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Carter.

Had to bail so captain fuckface wouldn’t get pissy. Don’t sleep all day, lazy ass.

Marco chuckled, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but read more into the message than just taking the words at face value. Much like Carter hadn’t needed to pay Marco back for the food, there had been no real need to text Marco to explain why he’d left, especially because he’d warned Marco the night before. Yet he had, and that simple gesture was enough to make Marco hope he was right about there being more behind Carter’s casual, brusque attitude.

No worries, Marco texted back.Figured you would.

He set the phone down, hesitated, and picked it back up before he could second-guess himself.

Thank you for last night. You’re always welcome back here :)

He tapped the send button before tossing the phone back on the couch. If he was right about the possibility of something more meaningful between him and Carter and about Carter wanting something similar, he knew he had to tread carefully.

Sipping coffee, he remembered Carter’s look when Marco spotted him in the club. It was the first time he’d seen something on Carter’s face other than annoyance, anger, or deep thought. Marco couldn’t find the words for the emotions he’d seen, but they’d made Marco’s heart skip a beat.

There were signs, hints that Marco could see, lying just beneath the prickly, gruff surface that Carter held onto. At the same time, there were warning signs. Hesitancy and indecision, and Marco was pretty sure there was worry and probably fear. If that was the case, he needed to be cautious of pushing Carter too hard while trying to show him it was perfectly safe to step forward.

“And me with my shit sense of balance,” Marco told the empty room with a laugh.

A buzz brought his attention back to the present with a snap. Someone was buzzing to be let into the building. Marco’s heart skipped a beat as he hurried to the panel beside his door and pressed the unlock button without bothering to ask who it was. There was only one person he could think would be over so early on a Saturday, or at least, he hoped it was.

Marco waited until he heard someone outside the door before unlocking it and pulling it open. He tried not to look disappointed when he saw who it was, but from the raised brow on Dean’s face, Marco hadn’t done a very good job.

Rather than comment, Dean looked him over, cocking his head. “Nice shorts. Couldn’t find a pair in your size?”

Marco looked down, realizing he hadn’t thought to put on pants. “Like you haven’t seen more than this.”

“Not in a while. Not that I don’t appreciate a free view.”

“Don’t let Sloane hear you say that.”

“Sloane knows damn well the only person I want to see roaming around in a skimpy pair of underwear is him.”

To Marco’s dismay, he watched as a familiar wrinkled face passed behind Dean.

“Morning, Mrs. Palmer,” Marco called brightly, earning a disgruntled huff as she took her dog outside.

“That woman is convinced I’m a degenerate, I swear,” Marco muttered as he backed up to let Dean into the apartment.

Dean closed the door behind him. “I don’t want to know, and I’m not asking.”

“Probably for the best,” Marco said as he eyed the paper bag in Dean’s hand.

Dean looked up, brows stitching together as he stared at something on Marco. “Uh. I take it that guy from last night stayed over?”

Marco blinked, pushing aside the reminder of when he’d last seen Dean. “Yes, why?”

Dean cleared his throat, raising a free hand to tap his neck. “Oh, just a hint.”

Marco turned on the spot and strode toward the bathroom to stare in the mirror. He was sure Dean could hear his heavy sigh as he spotted what Dean had been staring at. There, at the base of his throat and on the underside of his jaw, were faint but still dark marks.

“I hope those are good marks,” Dean’s voice said as it floated into the bathroom.

Marco huffed, slapping his hand on the light switch as he glared at Dean. “Don’t start, Dean. If you came over to start round two with me over this, you can go right back out the door.”

He stopped when he saw Dean watching him with amusement. Worse yet, a devilish look in his eyes made his smile turn into a smirk.

“You’re not,” Marco concluded with embarrassment, which quickly morphed into annoyance. “You’re just screwing with me.”