Disclaimer- Pendergast belongs to Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. However, Halo Spencer belongs to me and he will eventually be in my Harry Potter fic "The Prince of Flame", which I'm still sort of working on… Enjoy!

Chapter 2

"What kind of man interests you, Spencer?" I asked abruptly. I'd like to say I didn't know what made me ask, but I did. Helen had only been gone…been dead for a little over five months now and I was still aching for her company. For any companionship truthfully, it was only lucky for me that Spencer and Helen had the same color hair. I've always had a likening for black hair, and his was wavy, the ends of his bangs touching the bottom edge of his dark glasses.

"Wha -?"

His mouth was hanging open, showing the edge of sharp looking teeth just past the full lips. He must have taken after his mother in his looks; he was just so effeminate to be more pretty than handsome.

I put my hands on my hips, leaning slightly on one foot. "I asked what kind of man interests you." I said. "What you're attracted to, hair, eyes, build, that sort of thing."

"I, um," He stammered and I went and sat on the bed across from his. I could feel his eyes following me behind the sunglasses and I wanted to see them. "Blondes, redheads mostly…"

"Eye color?" I asked, trying to see past his shades, wanting a look at his eyes.

"It doesn't matter to me."

"Age? Build?" I wondered how he'd react if I reached out and took the sunglasses from his face.

He shrugged. "My age, a little older is nice. Like me, slender. Sometimes taller, sometimes shorter, it just depends on what I want."

I ran my hand through my hair. I missed Helen, missed holding her, and missed falling asleep while wrapped around her. I looked at Spencer out the fringe of my eyelashes; they were nearly the same size. I wondered if their eyes were the same, but I didn't think anyone would ever have the same warmth or depth in their eyes that Helen had. It just wasn't possible.

"And what is it you want Spencer?" I forced myself to ask.

His dark eyebrows shot up above the rim of his sunglasses. He got to his feet slowly and crossed the short distance to me, I looked up at him, arching my brow, hoping he would get the unasked question. He reached out with one hand and took hold of my jaw, his other hand wrapped around the back of my neck and I felt his fingers snake their way into my damp hair. I could feel him looking at my lips, but still, I couldn't see his eyes. I wanted to, but I couldn't move, couldn't make my hands touch him. He lowered his head and kissed me gently, a chaste touch of his lips to mine. Once again I found myself comparing him to Helen and my heart clenched viciously in my chest.

The kiss was over all too soon and he released me, backing away to fall onto his bed. He then crawled in reverse, pushing his back to the wall as he hugged his knees to his chest. Neither of us spoke for several minutes. I was thinking about how soft his lips had been, comparing them to the softness of Helen's lips while I remembered the times I had kissed my childhood friend Charles Duchamp. Spencer could never compare to kissing Helen, but it had felt better than kissing Charles ever had. I looked over at him, once again wondering if he was looking in my eyes, once again not being able to tell.

I watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest and shoulders with his heavy breathing and came to the conclusion my actions had shocked him. But reading body langue without being able to read the mood in his eyes only made it more difficult to gauge his reaction. Again I debated taking the sunglasses from his face. Would he want me to take them off physically or would he rather I just asked him to take them off on his own?

He said he liked men his size or smaller, but always slender, never bigger than him. This told me he preferred the dominant role, to be the one in charge. I looked at his hands, long slender fingers with rounded tips; his thumb and little finger, if placed side by side, were the same length. I let my eyes travel back to his face, the button nose, the full and girlish lips, and the high cheek bones. He had to know he looked feminine, and I was willing to bet he used it to his advantage. He wanted to be the one in charge, but I got the feeling he wouldn't mind someone trussing him up once in a while.

I stood, reached out and grasped the side of the sunglasses in my hand. I sensed him stiffen as I pulled them off, setting them on the small dresser next to the bed. His arms were still wrapped around his legs protectively, and his eyelids were tightly closed. The long lashes lying across his tanned cheeks, he was so cute in that moment, so desirable to me that I wanted to kiss him again. But not before I saw his eyes.

….

"Open your eyes Agent Spencer," Pendergast commanded softly.

Halo licked his dry lips, his tongue absently searching for another taste of the man standing just before him. But the taste wasn't there, not even a little. He could smell Pendergast, like a mix of sandalwood, vanilla and sage.

"Open your eyes for me, Spencer." Pendergast said again, a little softer this time.

"Only if you promise to call me Halo," He muttered. "And to kiss me…"

"I promise Halo. Just let me see your eyes…"

Halo opened his eyes slowly, as if lifting the blinds on a window. He saw Pendergast standing over him, a heated look on his face. Halo recognized the look as lust; strange, he'd never pegged the older agent as a homosexual. He stared up at the man, waiting for the look of horror and shock at his odd eyes. The familiar look never came, instead, Halo saw Pendergast blink. The only show of his surprise and he felt the tension leave his shoulders.

Pendergast tipped Halo's head up toward the ceiling, letting the light reflect off his exposed eyes. He felt his thumbs stroking the skin just above his jaw line. He performed the caress over and over again, looking in Halo's eyes the entire time.

"Hmm," He said. "I've never seen eyes like yours… Is it because of your gifts?"

Halo swallowed. "I doubt it; I'm an oddity even among wizards…. Will you kiss me now Pendergast?"

….

Halo's eyes were indeed different from any I'd ever seen before. The irises were yellow with spines of gold throughout, the pupils large and oval-shaped. I couldn't understand why he covered them behind the veil of dark glasses, but then I realized maybe he was afraid of them. Afraid of their exoticness; I'd had the same problem with my eyes in my younger years, and he wasn't too far into young adulthood. I supposed he was maybe in his early twenties, mid-twenties at the very oldest. It still made him ten years younger than me either way, as I was nearing thirty-five.

I hooked my arm under his legs and jerked him forward so that his legs were on either side of mine. I took hold of his head and angled it back, kissing him roughly. I kept my eyes open; I wanted him to see that they didn't bother me.