Joey nodded and reached out a hand.He couldn’t seem to stop himself, but that touching thing he and Gid had talked about was real—theytouchedbehind Gideon’s door, and itmeantsomething to him.
Gideon didn’t leave him hanging.He reached out and twined their fingers, and they drew close.Gideon leaned his forehead against Joey’s, and Joey supported some of his weight as they sagged against the door.
“I don’t want him to hurt you,” Joey confessed, his chest raw.
“Same, Joey.Do you think I’m not afraid for you?”
Joey nodded.He’d known that.He may not have articulated it in his head, but he’d known that’s why Gideon had been so angry.
“I can take care of myself there,” he whispered.“I-I don’t know how to take care of other people there.The only way to protect you, Gid, is to keep you secret.”He flashed, then, to the long-ago case with Jay Arnold, protecting his poor barista.Gideon had been so much kinder than Joey would have been—but that’s because Gideon had seen, even then, how sometimes what you wanted for your lover and what you had to offer were not the same thing.
Gideon nodded now and let out a sigh.“I don’t want to be your secret,” he murmured.“But we’ve been partners for a year and a half—nobody’s going to question that we’re close.We’ve both had other relation—” He paused, and Joey gave a green smile.“Sex partners,” Gideon finished dryly.“The squad has no reason to think we’ve changed.”
Joey put his hands on Gideon’s hips and drew him even closer, until they were no longer leaning against the door but on each other, Joey with his head on Gideon’s shoulder.
“Just stay safe, Gid,” Joey begged.
“You too,” Gideon said.“Or….God, Joey.Do you really have to go?”
“Yeah.But only for a few days.”Joey raised his face for a kiss, a thing he never thought he needed but had come to crave.
Gideon didn’t leave him hanging, lowering his head and taking Joey’s mouth with an aching tenderness Joey couldn’t ever remember being touched with.
“And not now,” Joey whispered, pulling back for a moment to smooth his hands through Gideon’s perpetually tousled hair.
“Not now,” Gideon echoed and bent his head to take Joey’s mouth again.
“YOU HAVEto go?”Gideon asked for the umpteenth time as they strode through the slush toward the subway that would take them to the train station.They each had their packed duffels over their shoulders, and Gideon wondered if anybody else could spot the military in the two of them, the way they carried their duffels, the way they marched.The synchronicity that had dogged them since Joey Carlyle had come pounding down the steps trying to shoot a stockbroker about to stab Gideon in the eye with a stiletto.
“If this goes south fast, I’ll be at your place when you get back,” Joey said, sidestepping Gideon’s question about their Christmas destinations easily.
Gideon’s place.Of course he’d be at Gideon’s place.
Joey and Gideon had made a couple of trips to Joey’s apartment since Joey had been texted, ostensibly to get something Joey needed for work, in the middle of the day, or after work on the way out to a venue, including the office Christmas party.Twice with Harding—and twice Harding had gone without them—to install new security attached toalltheir phones and sporadically timed lights to make it look as though Joey’s hours were so demanding that was the reason he was seldom there.
Of course Gideon had clued Harding in about Joey’s visit to his father.For one thing, since Stephen Carlyle was well known for illegal and dangerous activities, it was important Joey be aboveboard about his interactions so he didn’t get suspicion thrown onhim, but for another?Gideon wanted help with this one, and since his former CO was across the country hunting monsters, Harding was his best bet.And a good, good friend.
A friend who didn’t ask too many questions when asked to pick up spare sets of clothes for Joey so he could stay at Gideon’s one more night than planned.
Not that Carlyle didn’t have plenty of clothes at Gideon’s already.In the months since Garcia had arrived at the SCTF and Joey had ended up in Gideon’s bed, Joey’s clothes had been… well, everywhere in Gideon’s apartment.In drawers where Gideon kept tablecloths, hanging behind the valances in the living room.Three days before, Gideon had gone to pull down his duffel so it would be packed as soon as their leave came due, and he’d found three pairs of boxer briefs, black, microfiber, sized M.
Gideon wore size large tighty-whities himself.
Like so many things about what they’d been doing since the fall, Gideon had said nothing about it.He’d simply taken the underwear, put it in a drawer he’d emptied, and gone about his business.
The next morning he’d found one of Joey’s T-shirts doubling as a plant doily.
“It will get dirty here,” he told Joey, and draped it on the back of the chair, in place of the runner that normally went there.
He’d… oh God.He’d been so looking forward to spending the holidays with Joey Carlyle.Two Christmases they’d been partnered, and once they’d worked, giving Natalia the night off, and once Joey had spent the time getting laid and Gideon had spent it at his father’s.Not once had Gideon had somebody special (and wasn’tthata tepid word?) he wanted to spend a holiday with, somebody he wanted to see light up with simple things like kids’ movies or a dumb present, and God, wasn’t Joey Carlyle all the things he’d want in a Christmas lover?
But then Joey had gotten that fucking text, and all those visions had dissipated like the bubbles in flat champagne.Gideon had accepted his father and stepmother’s invitation to their second home outside of Philly and told Joey that if he managed to get away early, he could join Gideon there.
“Or you could come back to Manhattan,” Joey said stonily, although Gideon recognized by now that he was trying to mask the hurt of having to give up the same dream Gideon had cherished.
“Ilikemy family,” Gideon told him, hoping for gentleness.“My stepmother hates red meat, and she’s making aroast, medium rare, on Christmas Eve.That’s a big deal to her, Joey—I can’t shit on that.”
Joey frowned, his funk palpable.
