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“Honest to God. I think I have sleeping sickness.”

Beau made a sound of amusement. “Weren’t you still in the hospital this time last week?”

Archie sighed.

Beau said, “Anyway, I like being naked with you. Even if we’re just sleeping.”

Yes. Naked was nice. Definitely.

Truthfully, Archie was touch starved. When he did manage to hook up, it was always with men like himself, fellow emotionally unavailable LEOs looking for sexual release. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just slept with someone, let alone slept in someone’s arms. Could not remember the last time he’d let himself be vulnerable or the last time another man had tried to, well, take care of him.

But if this was a one off, if this was going to be it—he would never get over sleeping through it.

Although, it probably said something that even lying here, with his groin nestled up against Beau’s moist, half-erect cock, his own cock was curled up like a sleeping kitten.

What. The. Fuck.

In every way.

But maybe Beau read his mind, because he said casually, “I’m coming by tomorrow night after the séance, right? You can brief me then.” He added playfully, “Or debrief me.”

There was a little silence. Beau said, without any hint of playfulness, “Or no?”

Was that a serious question?

“Well, yeah. I hope so. Of course.”

Beau mimicked softly, “Of course.”

Archie craned his head, though there was not enough moonlight to make out Beau’s expression. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. You’re…pretty damned forgiving.”

How to respond to that?

The difference was, not only had he never hated Beau, he had not had a convincing reason to stay angry with him. He had believed Beau meant it when Beau told him they had nothing in common, that their lives were going in different directions, and Beau was through. Beau had made it sound like the real problem was he had outgrown Archie, that Archie didn’t fit in with Beau’s plans for the future.

It hadn’t been kind. But it had sounded like the truth. And it had hurt—it had been devastating, in fact—but Archie had believed it. However painful it was, you couldn’t blame someone for falling out of love. In Archie’s youthful experience, and with the exception of his own parents, that was usually what happened between people.

The darkness made it easier to be honest, to say things he hadn’t planned on admitting. “I don’t know if I’m so forgiving. It’s just… If it was over for you. It’s not like I could force you to feel something you didn’t.”

The most he had ever hoped for was that he and Beau might one day talk it out and reach some kind of understanding. Because he had missed Beau’s friendship as much as he’d missed all the rest of it. Beau had been his favorite person in all the world. That was the sad and simple truth.

As far as this? He had never let himself even imagine this.

Beau made a pained sound, shifted, rested his face against Archie’s. His eyelashes flickered against Archie’s cheek. Beau whispered, “I can’t tell you how much I wanted to take it back. Even when I still thought I had a reason not to.”

Archie’s kiss landed on the bridge of Beau’s nose. “Sure,” he said gently. “I know. So. I’m just…adjusting for windage.”

Beau huffed a shaky laugh.

They lay quietly for a time. Beau was absently scratching Archie’s back, which was another something Archie didn’t remember ever happening before, but it was nice. The slightly callused tips of Beau’s fingers started at his shoulder blades, moving in slow, steady strokes down the length of his back. Beau’s fingernails weren’t long, but they were there. Beau didn’t scratch hard enough to leave marks, nor so light as to be ticklish. Just a gentle, comforting scratch that made Archie’s skin prickle a little. Made him feel sort of tingly all over. Every so often, the pads of Beau’s fingers would push a little harder into a knot of muscle that Archie hadn’t realized was even there, knead it, prod it until the knot would unravel, the tension slipping away. It left Archie feeling sort of melty and weak.

He murmured softly, approvingly, and Beau’s fingers dipped a little lower, finding the small of Archie’s back and making small, soothing circles, sending warmth radiating through all those overloaded nerves and strained muscles.

Archie could easily have drifted off—he longed for nothing more than to do that very thing—but he couldn’t help noticing that Beau did not appear to be equally relaxed. Or rather, he seemed relaxed, but fully awake, alert. He could feel Beau thinking, which started Archie thinking.

He considered how uncharacteristically tired Beau had sounded when he’d answered the phone, and he remembered Beau had been in court that day. He thought about Beau saying he wasn’t sleeping, and that his parents would watch his son that night. And this back-scratch, though definitely pleasurable, reminded Archie a little of the way parents calmed restless children.