Page 13 of Dance in the Stones

He barely noticed the hours passing as he reviewed documents, authorized raids, and talked his team through the delicate balance of building an airtight case while keeping it from human authorities.

The only thing he saw, or paid the slightest bit of attention to outside of his computer, was Damon. Or more specifically, the way Damon was caring for him.

A mug of coffee appeared at his elbow precisely when he needed it. Damon never interrupted him too early, and he made sure Redford wasn’t on a call when he entered the room. The first time, Redford had glanced up to find Damon already retreating. Damon just pointed at the coffee mug and made his way out the door.

“Thank you.” The least Redford could do was show he was appreciative, but Damon had already disappeared, and from the noise going on over at the castle, Redford guessed he was there.

Around noon, a sandwich materialized on a plate beside his laptop. Turkey and cheese between thick slabs of fresh bread. Damon didn’t know they were mates, so Redford didn’t think that had anything to do with how Damon seemed to know how he liked his sandwiches. But if it was Damon’s lucky guess, it hit the nail on the head…and soothed the rumbling in Redford’s stomach.

It was clear, when Redford had two minutes to think about anything except the case, that Damon was taking care of him, not because of the mate bond, but because he wanted to. The thought settled warm in Redford’s chest, right where his gargoyle had been rumbling possessively for days.

“Oh, good, you’ve got a minute,” Damon said later, appearing at the door. “You’ve been staring at the screen for four hours. Your eyes are going to fall out.”

“That’s not physically possible.” Redford leaned back in his chair, trying to stretch out the ache in his shoulders.

“Humor me.” Damon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He’d clearly come from the castle, dust on his jeans and one of those worn T-shirts that showed off his arms. “You need to take a break and walk around. It wouldn’t hurt for you to look at something that isn’t a computer for a few minutes.”

“I can’t, I’m waiting for…”

“You’re waiting for them to send files that won’t arrive for another twenty minutes according to what you told them. I was listening.” Damon’s smile was gentle. “Twenty-minute break. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“I’m older than most doctors, and I’m older than you. That should count for something.”

Despite the stress of the case, Redford found himself smiling as he pushed himself out of his chair. “That’s terrible logic.”

“And yet you’re standing up.” Damon pushed off the doorframe. “Come on. Fresh air. The case isn’t going to fall apart if you take a few moments out of this room.”

Redford saved his files and followed Damon outside. The Highland air was crisp and clean, and he inhaled, letting every exhale reduce his stress. His gargoyle stretched beneath his skin, pleased to be outside and pleased to be near their mate.

The stones were singing – they wouldn’t stop until Damon was claimed. But Redford noticed other things too. The gentle breeze, the smell of heather, and the absolute quiet now the contractors had gone for the day.

“Better?” Damon asked.

“Yeah.” Redford rolled his shoulders and stretched out his arms. “Thanks for forcing me outside.”

“That’s what...” Damon trailed off, looking away toward the castle. “That’s what people do, right? Make sure you don’t work yourself to death.”

That’s what mates do, Redford’s gargoyle supplied helpfully. That’s what partners do.

And it was. Damon had been looking after him for three days now, quietly making sure Redford ate, slept, and took breaks. Never hovering, never intrusive, never demanding Redford share details about what he was doing. He was just...there, and while Damon might not know it, it meant the world to Redford.

“How’s the castle work going?” Redford asked, because he needed to think about something other than how badly he wanted to pull Damon close and kiss him senseless.

“Good. We’ve got the west wing stabilized and found some interesting stuff in one of the old storage rooms – a few really old weapons and some bits of pottery that are about your age.” Damon’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Duncan, the local mail delivery person here, thinks some of it might be valuable. We’ve been careful with it.”

“You like the work.”

“I like using my hands. Making things solid again.” Damon glanced at him. “The castle has good bones. It deserves to stand for another few centuries.”

“Maybe longer, if we do it right.”

“We?” Damon’s eyebrows rose.

Redford hadn’t meant to say that. He had come to the castle intending to fix it and sell it and definitely hadn’t meant to include himself in the castle’s future. But with Damon by his side, the word had slipped out naturally. “I mean...you’ve been doing most of the work. I should probably say you’ll do it right.”

“No, I liked ‘we.’” Damon’s smile widened. “It sounds better.”