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“You had this look on your face like you were ready to murder someone.”

“That’s just my face.”

“Nah, it’s a little different. It’s in the eyes.”

Carter rolled them. “How romantic.”

“Romantic would be telling you I like your eyes. Which is true, by the way.”

Carter squinted at him. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

Marco laughed. “Trust me, you’d know if I was drunk.”

Before Carter could think what to say, he felt Marco’s hand slip under the table. Confusion filled him when, instead of his thigh, Marco’s hand curled against his, twining their fingers together.

“Drunk,” Carter repeated.

“I had a couple of drinks and danced with my friends. Now, I get to spend the rest of my time with you. I’m not drunk, just in a really good mood.”

Carter scowled. “Remember when I told you that you have shit judgment?”

“I do. You were bruised and bleeding on the street after helping someone who needed it. I have to say, as far as first impressions go, that’s a pretty good one.”

Carter stared at him in bewilderment. While he was willing to accept Marco wasn’t drunk, he honestly had no idea where this sudden shift in personality had come from.

Then again.

He had to admit there had been something playful in Marco's actions. It was hidden behind quiet smiles and gentle laughter, but there had been a spark of something waiting to come out. Was that all it had taken to drag Marco out of whatever shell he’d wrapped around himself? For Carter to ask him out for the night? Could it really bethateasy?

“Did I break you?” Marco asked with a wicked grin.

“Fuck off,” Carter shot back gruffly.

“I mean, I could,” Marco said, leaning away slowly.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Carter wrapped his hand tighter around Marco’s so the man couldn’t escape. An instant later, he was reminded that he’d practically broken a guy’s arm for doing the same thing. It was gone almost immediately when Marco grinned knowingly at him and leaned back in, their shoulders brushing together.

“Fuck off,” Carter repeated, lacking any real heat.

“I’m glad your Sergeant decided to play nice. I’ll have to thank him,” Marco said.

Carter snorted. “If you make him think he’s doing anything nice for me, he’ll figure out how to take it away as quickly as possible.”

Marco’s eyes brightened with a delight Carter couldn’t understand. That was until a moment later when he realized he’d just admitted that letting Carter come out with Marco was nice. Carter barely managed the scowl he shot at Marco, already distracted by how often he must have done that before. Because he sure as hell had seen that delight on Marco’s face in the past.

With a huff, he realized that maybe seeing it wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Marco?”

The loud voice brought their heads up to stare at the man standing in front of their table. Carter’s brow fell again into a heavy frown as he recognized the medic.

“Dean? Hey,” Marco said in surprise but grinning all the same.

“What are you doing here?” Carter asked.

Dean cocked his head, eyes darting between Marco and Carter. “Having a night out.”

“With who?” Carter asked, wrinkling his nose.