Warnings: strong language, some homophobic language/behavior (period-typical)

The last month had been horrible. Roy honestly felt bad for the string of replacements standing in for Marco because the entirety of Station 51 was generally miserable. Chet and Johnny were always subdued now, Cap was cranky, and Mike was damn near silent, only speaking when spoken to. Roy tried to continue acting normally, tried to pretend nothing had happened, but it was difficult. He didn't want to point fingers, though in this case, he felt justified in saying it was Mike's fault.

When Marco got hurt last month, Mike all but disappeared during their four days off, retreating to his parents' house in Topanga Canyon. He told no one but Cap where he was going, and he apparently never contacted Marco. Chet told Roy and Johnny that he'd had to personally go to the Stoker house to talk to Mike. Really, if they were trying to hide the fact that they're in a relationship, it's gonna be a helluva lot harder now. Whenever they got the chance to speak with Marco, he was miserable, too.

"It's reaching a crisis point," Roy told Chet one day, "We're all gonna lose it soon if this keeps up. Nobody is actin' like themselves."

"It's just-… There's so much tension floatin' around. Mike comes in miserable, and that's it, just like that, we're all miserable," Chet said.

"Do you know why he's so upset all the time, Chet? I mean, you're closer to the two of them than any of us. Have they told you anything?"

Chet started chewing his lip and looking around, his eyes going everywhere but Roy's face. Oh, he knows. Roy carefully took Chet's arm and led him out the back door to the parking lot where they could talk more privately. The lineman looked nervous still, so Roy decided to pull out some of his paramedic techniques. He left his hand on Chet's arm and adopted a gentle tone, saying, "Chet, please, if you know why this is happening, I'd like for you to tell me. If it's about them bein' together, it's hardly a secret anymore, so you might as well tell me. We just cannot keep goin' like this."

"I guess they are bein' kinda obvious," Chet replied, scrubbing at his face.

"What do you know about it?"

"When Marco got hurt, Mike got scared. That's really the biggest thing, the tipping point, I guess you could say. Now, when Mike got scared, he decided just to fuck off, and he didn't contact Marco for, like, three days. Obviously, that pissed Marco off, so when Mike finally did go see him, it was basically too late, and now they're pretty much not speaking to each other and haven't seen each other since that day. They're usin' me as a-a go-between, and it's fuckin' me up a little."

For a moment, Roy just blinked. That's a lot goin' on that we didn't know about.

"I-… Really?"

"Yeah, really. Marco's been stayin' with his sister and her girlfriend, so-"

"Her girlfriend?"

"Mhmm. She's super nice. She works as a nurse, actually."

Roy had to blink again. So Marco's gay and his sister's a lesbian. Christmas dinners must be fun.

"Do you know-? Uh, what was Mike scared of? Why didn't he go see Marco?" he asked.

"What's anyone afraid of when someone they love almost dies?" Chet shrugged, "He was afraid Marco would die, and he'd be left alone. He was afraid of the hurt."

"And he thought he was makin' a good choice?"

"Hey, man, I tried to tell him it wasn't a good idea, but clearly, he didn't listen to me, so…"

"What can we do about it, though? How can we fix it?"

"Do wha-? Fix what?"

"Well, we weren't just talkin' about how to solve the energy crisis. Chet, how can we help Mike and Marco?' Roy asked pointedly.

"Shit, I dunno, Roy. We're not fairy godmothers here. We don't have fuckin' magic wands to get them back together. Honestly, I think it'll just run its course and blow over."

"I suppose it could… but what if it doesn't?"

Chet looked up at him, his eyes wide, his lips parting slightly. That Mike and Marco wouldn't make up was clearly a thought that hadn't occurred to him, not even remotely. What an optimist. Roy didn't like to think of himself as a pessimist, but he liked to be prepared for the worst. The worst-case scenario here was likely that the shift would be broken up. Mike and Marco would go their separate ways, one or both going to another station. If they were to leave, then it was conceivable that others would go, too. Me and Johnny could be the only two left. He suppressed a shudder. That was not something he wanted to see happen. Chet looked terrified by the prospect.

"You should talk to Marco," Roy said, trying to work out a plan, "You're his partner, so you're probably closer to him than you are to Mike."

"Then who's gonna talk to Mike?"

"Honestly, I was thinkin' Joanne could. She deals with that every day, with me comin' to work and maybe dyin' or being hurt real bad. She's had to sit with me in the hospital, brought the kids with her, gave me lectures on bein' safe at work, all of it. Her perspective might really help. She could probably talk to Marco, too, so he knows what Mike's goin' through. I mean, what could it hurt at this point?"

xXxXx

Marco's stomach rolled with anxiety. He hadn't seen or spoken to Mike in six weeks now, not since that day at the hospital. At first, he didn't want to see him because he was angry. Then, it was because he was a little afraid. He still loved Mike… but what if Mike didn't love him anymore? What if this fight was it and they were over now? Marco didn't even want to think about it. He took a deep breath before getting out of his car and heading up to the apartment.

Joanne's words really stuck with him. It was hard for her to kiss her husband goodbye in the morning and wonder if it would be the last time, to worry about every phone call and knock on the door.

"And just think," she told him, "how much worse it must be for him to actually be there, to be witness to any horrible thing that could happen to you and still be unable to help. Be patient with him, Marco, because he's going to be afraid sometimes, and there's nothing you can do about that except to make the best promises you can. Trust me."

He stared at the door for a long moment. Part of him, a very large part of him, simply wanted to turn around and leave and try to never see him again. He knew he couldn't, though. This was something they needed to fix, one way or another, whatever the outcome may be. Marco took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

Mike opened the door after a moment, surprised to see Marco standing there. Makes sense… I didn't call to say I was coming. Marco fiddled with his sling for a moment and asked, "Can I-? Can I come in? I'd really like to talk to you… if I could."

"I guess so… yeah."

He stood aside to let Marco in. Their apartment looked the same as it always did, everything in its place, looked lived in and well-loved. Mike stepped around and pointed Marco to the couch. Marco sat at one end; Mike sat at the other. It's like we're strangers, like we weren't everything to each other for about three years. A moment of silence passed between them.

"I'm sorry."

They spoke at the same time, looking at each other finally. Marco felt his lips quirk in a brief smile. Mike cleared his throat, looked down, moved fractionally closer to Marco on the couch, whispered, "Can I go first?"

Marco nodded. Mike wet his lips, shifted in his seat, and explained, "I'm really sorry, Marco. I just… I kinda panicked. Seeing you hurt like that… it made me look at the possibility that I could lose you one day, any day, and I wasn't ready to handle it. I let that fear take over, an-and I ran. I know it wasn't right to do, but I couldn't stop myself from doing it. I was so afraid of losing you that I-I tried to push you away. I don't really know what I was thinkin'… guess I-I wasn't thinkin'…

"Maybe-… Maybe I thought that if we weren't together, if something would happen to you, it wouldn't hurt as much. Lookin' back now, it sounds really stupid, but for some reason it musta seemed like a good idea at the time. I just couldn't deal with the thought that I almost lost you, Marco. I love you… I love you very much, and I was just so afraid. I know they're not good excuses, and I don't expect forgiveness right away, but… but I at least wanted to tell you that."

"Well, I'm sorry, too. I got mad. I was mad at you and I let it take over," Marco responded, "I woke up alone and scared, and I couldn't imagine why you weren't there. I thought… I thought somehow I'd done something to piss you off, something to make you hate me and this was your chance to be rid of me. I thought you'd abandoned me, and when Chet told me you didn't tell anyone why you left or where you went, I at least didn't feel so alone. When you finally came to see me, I took it out on you. I shouldn't have."

"Honestly, I kinda deserved it. It was a dumbass move."

"Maybe a little… but you didn't deserve what followed. You didn't deserve the coldness, the silence. You didn't deserve me making you think I didn't love you anymore."

"I never thought that," Mike responded almost immediately, "I never thought you didn't love me anymore."

Marco smiled. Mike continued, "See, I talked to Joanne, and she usually feels the same way. She told me she and Roy have had the same fight a few times, but every time they get through it because they love each other and talk it out. So… I'd like to talk it out now."

"I thought we just did."

"Yeah… yeah, I guess we did."

They together quietly for a moment before Marco spoke up, "I talked to Joanne, too. She put a lot of things in perspective for me. I never really tried to look at it from your point of view. I just figured since we'd both been doin' the same job for long, we were already used to stuff like this, to someone getting hurt. She told me to be patient when you're afraid. I think that's reasonable."

"And even when I'm afraid, I won't push you away because that makes things worse."

Mike's smile was sweet and shy as he leaned in, and Marco was ashamed when he didn't let the man kiss him. He sighed, "Shit, I'm sorry, Mike. I dunno-… I guess I'm still a little upset about everything."

"No, I understand… You, uh, you have a right to still be upset, I think. I knew we wouldn't fix this overnight. I just want it fixed. I-… I've really missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

He really meant it. The anger and hurt feelings weren't entirely gone, still simmered somewhere under the surface, but he had missed his lover dearly. He had missed the closeness they had, the intimacy, the love. He wasn't, however, able to entirely forgive just yet.

"Look, Mike, I-… It really hurt when I thought you abandoned me, especially since I was in the hospital. I think-… I'm sure I'll fully forgive you soon, but it's not gonna be immediate. I wish it would be, but that's just not how it works, querido."

"You called me 'querido' just now. That's a good start."

"Yeah, I'd say it is."

"Yeah… hey, did you eat lunch yet? I can make something."

"I'd like that."

xXxXx

"So, how was everyone at the station this past shift, honey?" Ginny asked.

Hank obediently stooped to kiss his wife, saying, "Much better. Not perfect, but better."

"Mike and Marco are back to being best friends again?"

"C'mon, Ginny, you know better than that."

He raised his eyebrows slightly. She sighed, agreed, "Alright, I do. I suppose they're a pretty poorly kept secret after this little spat. How long have you had your… suspicions?"

"Couple years now, I guess," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, "Them moving in together wasn't really a big thing. Bachelors do it all the time to save money, but they've stayed there… and they never talk about dating anyone… even though they've had some hickeys they thought they covered up. It's just-… Hell, I dunno, Ginny…"

He dropped into a kitchen chair, scrubbed at his face, heaved a sigh. His wife sat beside him, her gentle hand resting on his knee.

"Talk to me, Hank, honey."

"It's just kind of… weird, I guess, to know that two of my firemen are… intimate with each other. I just feel all mixed up about it."

"What has you mixed up?"

"C'mon, sweetie, you knew my parents. You remember what kind of people they were, the kinds of things they said," Hank whispered.

Hateful. They were hateful. He'd grown up in Missouri, and his parents were the kind of people who lamented the fact the South hadn't won the Civil War. They pushed all sorts of foul views and bigotry on him from an early age, tried to teach him to hate anyone who wasn't like them, to hate people of color and Catholics and atheists and the disabled and anyone who loved in a way that was not considered normal. Hell, my father was a card-carrying, hood-wearing member of the KKK. He only took Ginny (then Svoboda) to visit them once before they were married. His parents did not attend the wedding, and Hank was more than happy to cut them out of his life.

"Hank, you are not like them, not by a long shot," Ginny told him earnestly, "You are the sweetest, kindest, most understanding man I've ever known. You have overcome their hate in ways no one could ever imagine. Don't second guess yourself when it comes to your kindness."

"You just don't know what it's like in the department these days," he explained, "Every day you hear jokes about this and that, offensive jokes, and you just hafta sit there and pretend they don't bother you unless you wanna be labeled some way. A lot of them come from other captains, from chiefs, so then you gotta sit there and keep quiet because they're in charge and you like your job. I want to be a good man, Ginny, I really do, but sometimes it's hard… very hard."

"But you are a good man. I wouldn't have married you otherwise. When the time comes for you to make that all-important choice between what's right and what's easy, you'll pick what's right. You always do. You always have… like when you set McConnike's hat on fire."

Hank chuckled quietly. That was pretty funny. When McConnike was Hank's captain, they'd had a probie named Douglass Scott Hooper, a young black man. Some of the men in the station took to treating Hooper poorly, ragging on him more than usual for a probie. Hank had tried to put a stop to it, but they wouldn't stop unless their captain told them to, so Hank went to McConnike. He refused to put his foot down, to stop the outright racist behavior, and Hank resorted to drastic measures. McConnike made sure it ended after that. Hooper was an engineer now.

Ginny looked at him warmly. He always loved her beautiful personality, loved the way it reflected in her face. My sweetie still looks good. There were only a few strands of grey in her dark hair, gentle lines in her face, a certain twinkle still in her green eyes. She was at least a foot shorter than him but always knew how to put him in his place when needed. A fireman's wife: sweet as honey and tough as steel.

"I'm not sure what I ever did that was good enough to deserve you," he whispered.

"Oh, you were just you. That's good enough for me… always has been. Now, what you need to do is just be the same old you when you see the two of them again. Letting them know you don't think of them any differently is one of the best shows of support you can give, I think," she said gently, "They're your friends, and they're happy together. That's what's important."

"You're very inspirational, you know that?"

"With three girls and two of them teenagers? I have to be inspirational."

"I'm sure you do, and I'm glad you're here to do it."

"Are you also glad I made breakfast?"

"Ginny, sweetie, anything and everything you do makes me glad."

He leaned in and kissed her gently, lingering a moment, before she told him, "C'mon, honey, eat some breakfast. I'm sure you need it."

"As you wish."

Hank spent the rest of the day partially in deep thought. He was honestly having a bit of trouble with the knowledge that two of his shiftmates were in a relationship with each other and apparently had been for some time. It was just a strange thought. Homosexuals were supposed to be easily picked out of a crowd. They weren't supposed to be like everyone else, weren't supposed to fit in. Mike and Marco didn't fit the stereotype. They didn't even fit the stereotype of overcompensation, didn't act overly macho or aggressive for no reason. Mike and Marco were just themselves, just as they'd always been. Things were so different, but they had never changed.

He tried to imagine what he would do if one of his daughters came home with a young lady and told him they were dating. He liked to think he would handle himself with grace and tact; he hoped he would. His daughters were his whole world, and he always wanted them to know he loved and supported them. I mean, I don't really want them dating at all, but at least a girl can't get another girl pregnant if they make stupid choices. The men at 51s were as close as his family. It was only fair he offered them the same love and support. Hank wouldn't bring up their relationship and make them uncomfortable, but he would he would make damn sure Mike and Marco knew he still cared about them.

xXxXx

Johnny stood next to Chet outside the locker room, both waiting for the unsuspecting boot to emerge. Young Tim McClellan had not been endearing himself to the men of 51s lately, not with the way he'd been talking. Their shift was tight-knit, their own little family, and no one like this was going to have any influence on them. Still, there were some lines a person just didn't cross, and Johnny Gage and Chet Kelly were not a team to piss off.

They both looked up when they heard footsteps approach, but it was just Roy.

"Look, fellas," Roy said quietly, "just don't rough him up or do anything to compromise your careers, okay? I can only back you up so far."

"Aw, Roy, we're not gonna hurt him," Johnny said.

"We're just gonna shut him up," Chet added.

Roy rolled his eyes and simply told them, "Be careful," before heading out to his car. Johnny and Chet smirked at each other. Having one of them upset at you was bad enough, but combined… they became unholy terrors prepared to rain down destruction. Okay, maybe that's a bit much, but it's essentially true. Both were made in the same mold: fiercely loyal, incredibly protective, ready to fight to defend the people they loved. The poor boot didn't stand a chance.

The two 51s veterans grabbed McClellan by the arms as soon as he stepped out of the locker room. B-shift had been called out on a run, so the three of them were the only ones in the station. They dragged him back into the locker room and pinned him to the wall. The young man struggled wildly, flailing and tensing and shouting until Chet yelled over him, "So help me God, McClellan, shut the fuck up and keep still before we make you. I've got some rank socks in my locker I've saved for just such an occasion. I'll stuff one right in your damn piehole, dig?"

That stopped him. Johnny spoke now, drawling, "Now that's a good 'lil fella. See, we don't wanna hurt ya, we just- we wanna make ya see the error of your ways."

"But don't get me wrong, we'll hurt ya if you make us do it."

There was something like fear in McClellan's eyes, and it made Johnny feel good.

"What's this about?"

"You know what it's about," Johnny answered.

"What? About your friends bein' fag-"

"Ah ah!" Chet interrupted, "You better watch your pretty little mouth. It's not too late for me to get a sock. I know Gage here looks skinny, but he could hold ya down. He's stronger than he looks."

"Oh yeah, I could put ya in a hold and keep ya there easy. I used to steer wrestle, after all."

McClellan clamped his mouth shut. They smirked again. Johnny spoke up, "Here's the deal, man… Marco and Mike are our friends, have been for nigh on four years now. I don't know if you're a troublemaker or unable to keep your mouth shut or if you're just plain stupid, but you do not get to walk into a fire station and start talkin' shit on the guys that work there."

"It's a pretty simple rule, kid."

"Yup, very simple. Talk shit-"

"-get hit."

Chet's smirk was cruel and threatening. It was actually kind of scary.

"Now, me and Kelly here, we're lovers rather than fighters, but that doesn't mean we won't fight when we find a worthy cause. Our friends are that kinda cause."

"They're our friends. They've been there for us through shit you wouldn't believe, and they are better men than you could ever hope to be, and if I hear one more degrading thing directed at them come outta your mouth, I'll fuckin' close it."

"But-… But if they are queers… isn't that somethin'' you wanna know about? Don't you wanna be rid of guys like-ah!"

Chet didn't hit him, but his raised fist was enough, along with a hiss of, "The fuck did I just say?" and a little lunge.

"Here's the thing, McClellan," Johnny explained, voice dangerously low, "you don't know what you're dealin' with here. We couldn't give a shit what the two of them do in the privacy of their own apartment. They're two of the best firemen a guy could ever work with. You could learn from 'em if you weren't such a goddamn idiot. They are the best and the brightest."

"Now, we'd like to make a deal with you. We had better see some improvement in your language and behavior in these next few weeks before Marco comes back, or you're not gonna like the consequences."

"You can't hurt me," McClellan spat, "There's nothin' you can do- ow!"

A fist connected with his abdomen, doubling him over.

"That's where you're wrong," Chet hissed.

"He's right, y'know. See, there's plenty we can do to you. It's other firemen that make your reputation, and you'd do well to remember that. Word spreads like wildfire through the stations. I'm sure you don't want it gettin' around that you're difficult to work with and rude and- what else, Chet?"

"Disrespectful… unwilling to learn," Chet's eyes narrowed, "…untrustworthy."

The fear in McClellan's eyes deepened. He stammered, "Y-You wouldn't-! You can't-!"

"We would," Chet stated.

"We can."

"And we will, if you don't cut it out with that shit about Marco and Mike."

"We won't tolerate that bullshit anymore. Not another word."

"And if you don't cut it out, our vengeance will be swift and terrible."

"Are we clear?"

They looked at him with identical Chesire grins. I almost want him to keep it up so we can prove we mean business. A long moment passed.

"Yes… crystal clear."

They clapped him on the shoulders and left without another word.

"Did ya really hafta hit him, Chet?"

"I thought it would help. It shut him up anyway."

"S'pose it did… we had a little 'good cop-bad cop' goin' on there. You were a pretty good bad cop."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I? Y'know, that was fun, Gagey baby. We should intimidate people more often. Wrongdoers, of course. We could be like Batman and Robin."

"Oh yeah? Which one is which?"

"I'll hafta think about it. You wanna go get breakfast, man? All this intimidation got me hungry."

"Hell yeah, Chet. I'm starvin' like Marvin. Let's hit the Deepwater, huh?"

It was really a shame McClellan chose not to heed their warnings… a shame for him, anyway. The rest of 51s had a wonderful time. They got to see some of the most creative pranks of all time. Johnny's greatest reward was when Mike thanked the two of them profusely at the end of a week and half, after which McClellan had seemingly had enough and gotten transferred. Rumors do travel fast through the department. He'll learn. Word came around that McClellan did not last another two months in the department.

xXxXx

"Finally!" Marco exclaimed when they took off the cast, "Freedom!"

The orthopedist laughed, "That's about the usual reaction. Everything looks really good in there. You healed up great. Now, there might be some residual weakness just from disuse, and that's perfectly normal. I can give you a sheet with some simple exercises to get some of that strength back. It shouldn't be very bad, but it will be noticeable. Now then, don't hesitate to call or come in if something doesn't feel right, okay? I'm going to give you a note saying you can return to work in two weeks-"

"Two weeks?"

Marco's heart sank. He didn't want to wait anymore.

"Just to be one hundred percent sure everything healed up properly. We worked hard putting that arm back together. I don't want any unnecessary injury from premature activity."

He sighed, flexed his left arm and elbow and wrist. I suppose it does feel a little weak… The doctor gave him the exercise sheet and ushered him out. Mike sat in the waiting room, thumbing through an auto magazine, looking up when Marco entered.

"Look at you," Mike commented as they headed out of the building, "You're a free man."

"I know. It's amazing. I thought I was never gonna get out of that cast. Really sucks to have that much plaster encasing your arm in July. I don't even wanna think about how much sweat was in that thing."

"Ugh, yeah, I bet it was pretty rank."

"You have no idea…"

The small talk continued in Mike's truck. It felt easy again. They'd had a bit of a rough patch after Marco's injury, after Mike ran away, after their fight. Marco had been upset for a while, which he felt was fair. Mike was very good about giving him his space and giving him the time to forgive. Forgiving was easier now without a visible reminder on his arm… not that he hadn't forgiven him already. He wanted to give Mike some space, too, some time to think about their relationship. He always says he doesn't know what he'd do without me. I'm not sure I wanna know, honestly. The silence in the truck was no longer unforgiving but was warm and comfortable.

The cats greeted them at the door before bounding off to play with each other. Marco and Mike stepped into the apartment, and Mike started to head back to the bedroom. Marco stopped him, took his hand, murmured, "Querido, wait…"

Mike turned and fixed his gaze on him, the blue eyes wide as Marco held both his hands.

"There's so much I want to say to you, Mike. You took care of me. You looked after me. You made sure I was okay. Even when we were fighting… Cari told me you would call at least once a day and check up on me. So much to say… and I have no idea how to put it all into words. I was hopin'-… I was hopin' maybe if I could kiss you, we could figure it out."

"I thought you'd never ask."

The kiss was tentative at first. Marco looked up into those beautiful blue eyes, and he leaned in. Their lips brushed, just the barest touch, something like a promise. Mike's breath was warm and sweet. Marco pressed their lips together a little harder, making his presence known. He felt Mike relax, stroked his thumb over the rough knuckles, finally moved his lips against Mike's. A big hand disappeared from his and settled at the junction of his jaw and neck. Marco rested his now free hand on Mike's waist. Mike kissed back, his lips gentle and slow against Marco's, their warmth and softness reminding him of home. I am home.

After a moment, he let his tongue dart out against Mike's lower lip, a gentle question. What have you decided, mi amor? The lips answered, parted easily, eagerly. A soft noise escaped Mike's throat. Everything fell into place, the two men forcefully reminded of their love and connection, that this was where they belonged. Marco's hand slipped to Mike's lower back, pulling him slightly closer. The kiss was gentle and sweet and slow. It spoke of forgiveness and thanks and love and many other things that could not have been said with mere words.

They broke apart after a few moments, Mike's forehead resting on Marco's, both sets of eyes having slipped shut briefly. Warmth sat heavy and wonderful in Marco's gut, radiating out into his limbs, carried in his veins.

"I understand," Mike murmured.

"I knew you would."

xXxXx

Mike looked into the deep brown eyes. I was so stupid. Stepping away, distancing himself, had seemed so easy. If he was not in a relationship with Marco, then everything would hurt less should something happen to Marco. He'd come to realize, however, that doing that would only make things worse. He would miss out on so much, would regret so much. It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. That's what they say. He never thought that way before. He preferred to save himself the pain before, but Marco managed to get through his walls and find a place in his heart. Any kind of removal now would be too painful to bear.

He breathed, "I love you," into the space between them.

"And I love you."

The words were warm and bright, long held and long awaited. He stroked his thumb along Marco's cheek, said softly, "I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused you. I was just so afraid of losing you that I really almost did lose you, and I don't want that to happen. I'm gonna try to be better. I don't wanna run away when I'm afraid. I'm gonna try to be better, God forbid, if something like this happens again. I don't wanna lose you, Marco."

"And I don't wanna lose you. I'll try to be more understanding and not push you away. I was so afraid… and then I was angry."

"I know, I'm so sorry, babe. I didn't mean-"

"I know, I know. Mike, we just need to agree to communicate when somethin' like this happens again… because somethin' like this will happen again. I don't think either of us plans on quitting any time soon, so I'm still gonna be running into burning buildings on a fairly regular basis for a while to come."

"Maybe we can make you an engineer so I can keep you safe… well, safer."

"Maybe one day, but for now, I like where I'm at. I like bein' with you. I like the guys, too."

Mike leaned in and kissed him gently. I don't want you to go anywhere, either.

"Kiss me again," Mike murmured against his lips, "I've missed you."

Nothing made him feel at home so much as Marco's kiss.