Title: Unknown

Chapter 3

Warnings: Slash, domestic abuse. Nothing graphic, but it's in there.

Author's Notes: A word about Speed's POV in this chapter: Please remember that he is not in a good state of mind. Much of his logic regarding his situation is flawed!

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"So, tell me you'll think about the Cuban band."

Eric looks hopefully at me while he twists the last of his fettuccine onto his fork. He takes the forkful of pasta, dips it into what's left of his salad dressing, and then shovels the whole concoction into his mouth.

"Why do you do that?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"Why do I do what?" Eric asks.

"Why do you dip your fettuccine into your salad dressing?" I point at the empty salad plate. "I've been trying to figure that out all night."

Grinning, Eric leans back in his chair. "It's good. I don't know. I've done that since I was a kid."

I shake my head. "The fettuccine has sauce on it already."

Eric laughs. "I'm glad we did this, Speed," he says. "It's good to have you around to ask the important questions."

"Funny," I say.

I'm glad we did this, too, though. I've missed spending time with Eric. I've missed everybody actually. I mean, I've never exactly been a social butterfly, but it's nice to just hang out and relax with friends once in a while.

Taking a sip of my lemonade, I glance at my watch. Cool. I've still got a little while before Mark gets home.

"Why do you do that?" Eric asks.

I let out a breath. "I'm meeting somebody later. Don't worry. I have plenty of time."

"So," Eric says slowly. "Who are you meeting? I mean, you've been hinting around that there's someone special. When are we going to meet this person?"

Licking my bottom lip, I say, "All right. You win. I'm seeing someone." I pop a piece of pepper into my mouth and say, "I'm just not ready to go public."

"That's cool," Eric says. "I've just been trying to figure out what's been going on with you."

"Nothing's been going on with me. I'm fine."

Eric opens his mouth as if he's going to disagree, but instead, he nods. "Okay," he says. "So, the Cuban band?"

I raise my eyebrows. "If I say I'll go with you, will you stop bugging me?"

Eric grins. "If you don't, I'll bug you mercilessly all month." He reaches across the table, and smacks my arm. "I need you with me, so I look even hotter to all the ladies, you know?"

"So, I'm a date-getter?" I say, fighting the temptation to smile.

"The term is 'wing-man'," he says proudly.

It's times like these I start to question my relationship with Mark. Don't get me wrong. I love him, and I know he loves me. But when I'm with Eric, I feel almost free, like I can do no wrong. With Mark, I sometimes feel like I'm walking on eggshells. Most of the time, he's great, but sometimes…

Granted, most of that's my doing, though. Like last night…I knew he'd had a hard day, and I should've given him more attention. But I was tired and sore, and I wasn't there for him. It wasn't his fault he lost his temper with me. Still, he called me this morning to apologize even though he didn't have to.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I were with Eric instead of Mark. Okay, that's dangerous thinking. I'm pretty sure Eric is totally straight. But even if he wasn't, there are so many reasons why it would never work. For one thing, I don't think I could stand to let my guard down around Eric. I try really hard keep my defenses up around everyone, but especially Eric. I couldn't stand to look weak to him.

I feel my cell phone vibrate, so I pull it out of my pocket.

Mark.

"Hang on a sec," I say to Eric, and then into the phone, I say, "Hey."

"Hey!" Mark says cheerfully, "You still at work?"

I shift in my seat. "I'm on my way home. I missed lunch, so I stopped to get something."

"Oh," he says. "Okay. Well, I just got to your place. Want me to meet you?"

"No, I'm about done." The last thing I need is for Mark to find me with Eric.

"Well, we could go out or something. How about a movie?"

"I'm really tired," I say. "I'll just come home."

Mark is dead silent for a long couple of seconds. Finally, he asks, "Are you with someone?"

I take in a deep breath, and then exhale. "Yeah, a co-worker."

"So, you're not that tired," Mark says evenly.

"I'm on my way home," I say. "If you want to go to a movie…"

I glance up at Eric, who's watching me intently.

Mark lets out a frustrated sigh. "I just don't understand why you were trying to hide it from me. I mean, I'd love to meet your friends."

"I know," I try to soothe, "I just…I've had a hard day. New case."

Mark understands what I do for a living. I'd just been through an emotionally-draining case when we met, so he saw me when I was really vulnerable. Because of that, I can sometimes get a little slack if I tell him I'm having problems at work.

After a long pause, Mark says, "We'll talk about this when you get home, all right?"

"All right."

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I keep my eyes down, trying to avoid Eric's gaze.

Swallowing, I bite my bottom lip. Mark's tone of voice is unreadable. I can't tell if he's still upset with me, or if he's concerned about my hard day at work. I guess I'll find out when I get home.

"Hey, Delko," I say, still averting my eyes, "I have to get home."

"You all right?" Eric asks, concern lacing his voice.

"Yeah." I point at the phone. "Got off early. We're going to do something."

"Okay, man," he says.

As I walk toward the counter to pay my bill, Eric calls after me. "Hey, Tim."

"Yeah?"

"You need anything, you call me, all right? Day or night."

We lock eyes for a second, and I almost think he knows the truth. Breaking Eric's gaze, I say, "Thanks, Delko. But I'm a big boy."