Page 10 of Hold Me Down (KRK Security #4)

Dave looked on in astonishment as Ian unloaded a full bag of food containers out onto the counter.

"You really didn't have to do that."

"You say that, but my grandmother would rose from her grave to kick my ass if I hadn't.

" Ian folded a cotton bag and put it inside the second one he came with.

"There's nothing better for the recovery process than a load of comfort food, ready for you to eat.

And don't worry, I toned it down on the spice front for your white man sensibilities. "

Dave nodded, not offended in the slightest. He'd once taken a spoonful of a chili Ian had prepared for himself and he had to drink a full glass of milk before he could even think of eating anything else.

"Honestly, man, thank you."

"No problem, it really doesn't take that much longer to prepare twice the amount.

I usually meal prep on Sundays, but we were working yesterday, so I did it today after the company meeting.

I should get these enchiladas into the freezer, though.

" He picked up the top two of the three containers.

"There are written instructions on the lid. "

Once Ian put away the rest of the food, the fridge was full to the brim. It was looking kind of sad before that, since Dave and Travis hadn't gone on their usual weekend shopping trip, but even if they had, it would never come close to what Ian's must be like on a regular basis.

"I'm envious of your kitchen skills," Dave admitted as he leaned against the counter a bit more, keeping the weight off his left leg. "We do okay, but we still end up ordering dinner more often than not."

"You can always learn. Many people don't, because they prefer to spend their time on other things, and I don't really blame them." Ian shrugged. "I'd probably be the same if my grandmother hadn't taught me from a young age. Now it's more than just useful—I honestly enjoy it. It relaxes me."

Dave shook his head. "Lucky you. I'm more like, the faster I'm done, the better."

"Do you two alternate who's doing the cooking?"

"No, we tend to work together, since it speeds up the process. There are days when only one of us handles the prep, and the other handles the dishes, but it's rarer and less fun."

Mostly because they teased each other with lingering touches and light groping when working together. Ian didn't have to know that part, though.

"My grandmother never let anyone into her kitchen unless she was teaching us something, and now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think I've ever cooked with anyone but her, so maybe I'm the same."

This could have offered a nice segue to teasing Ian about ever having cooked for a certain rock star who had hired KRK quite often over the years and always asked for Ian specifically after the first time.

The company rumors had these two anywhere from only flirting to secretly married by now, and Ian had to endure a lot of ribbing, which he used to handle with grace.

However, recently it seemed like the jokes had started to rub him the wrong way, so Dave bit his tongue.

"Hey, how about we move to the living room?" Ian gestured towards the couch. "I'd happily kick back for a while."

"Subtle, you are not," Dave told him dryly, even as he grabbed the crutches. "After you."

Ian shook his head. "You wouldn't know subtle if it bit you in the ass."

"I would if it asked nicely first."

Still, Dave couldn't hold back a sigh of relief once he was sitting down again, with his leg on the throw pillow lying on the coffee table.

Ian settled sideways on the couch, facing Dave.

"Be honest, how are you doing with this?"

"Impatient and grumpy, mostly."

"So, the usual?"

As Dave glared at him half-heartedly, Ian broke out a grin.

"Couldn't resist."

"I can tell you I'm not missing the constant abuse to my person." Dave sighed. "I'm living in peace and quiet—"

"You live with Travis, that's not—"

"—and away from the peanut gallery. It's glorious."

"I bet."

"I don't miss you at all," Dave declared, but his grin was probably ruining the effect. "None of you."

"Well, we do miss you. There's only so much shit Martinez can take, and we prefer to even it out between the three of you."

"And who is this 'we', exactly? Because last time I checked, everyone was getting their share, not just us three."

"Fine, you may be my favorites."

Dave snorted. "Aww, you say the sweetest things… in between all the shit you say."

"I do like mixing it up."

"Any new gossip to share?"

Ian tossed his hair back with a grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

Interest piqued, Dave sat up. He'd stopped pretending he wasn't a big gossip a long time ago, so he didn't even try to fool Ian.

"Jeremy's thinking of proposing."

That brought Dave short, and for a long moment he did nothing but stare at Ian.

"Wow," he finally muttered.

"Right?! I swear, I want to see the two of them at the altar so badly."

Dave cleared his throat. Get it together .

"You want to see everyone at the altar."

Ian chuckled. "Fair enough. But admit it, Jeremy and Pascal are at the top of everyone's list."

As Dave tilted his head, he went over the available options. Some people were too early into their relationships to get hitched—although he wouldn't count James and Eddie out, they might end up eloping any day now—but some…

"I'm still hoping the Judge pops the question," Dave admitted. "There's no way Martinez would say no."

"If that ever happens, we're popping the champagne, but you know that's unlikely."

Dave nodded. The scuttlebutt was that the Judge had sworn off marriage after his divorce, which was why the chances weren't high. And yet, there was something in there that kept Dave's hopes alive.

"Have you noticed that our top picks are the guys with the most famous partners?" Ian asked. "I haven't, before now."

"Ryan's boyfriend may actually be the most famous, since more people follow sports than politics."

"They're too new right now, despite their history, but if they slide into our top three within the year, we know we have a problem."

"Nah, we're more into the longest of long-term couples."

"There's that." Ian smiled. "You're right, I like that interpretation better."

"But Jeremy!" Dave shook his head, still in disbelief. "I assumed it would be Pascal who asked."

"Most of us did, which is why Martinez will end up with quite a payout once that bet is called."

"Do we know when or how?"

"Nope. We don't even know this much, officially. Someone who shall not be named overheard Jeremy and Martinez this morning, and the news spread like fire."

"Damn."

As Dave imagined that, the excitement of the news and the rush to share it with others, he felt a pang in his chest. The work itself was one thing, but he missed the office, and his friends, and how invested—or over -invested, depending on the interpretation—they got in each other's lives.

"I can't wait to tell Travis," he said. "He's going to love that."

"I bet. How's he handling this, by the way?"

Dave frowned. "He doesn't know yet."

"I meant this," Ian waved at Dave. "You with a broken leg, him working from home, the whole thing."

"He's been a great help, honestly. I'm a terrible patient—"

"Noo," came Ian's exaggerated protest, which made Dave laugh.

"Shocking, I know. But he's great, and careful, and he seems to know what I need before I tell him."

"That telepathic thing you two have going on comes in handy in situations like this, I imagine."

"Well, there's nobody to call you out on your bullshit like a person who's known you since before you could grow out a proper beard."

Ian shrugged. "There's only one guy I still talk to from basic training, and that's every couple of months at best. You may envy me my cooking skills, but I envy you a relationship like that, and something tells me you wouldn't trade one for the other for anything."

Hoping he wasn't burning red, Dave waved him off.

"Not even your tamales are worth breaking in somebody new."

There was a pause, and when Dave glanced back at his friend, Ian had lost his smile and he was picking at the thread in the couch back cushion.

"I bet it would be a hard transition," he offered in a lowered voice, as if he was talking more to himself than Dave, but before Dave could react to that—how, he wasn't quite sure—he heard the front door open.

Turning around too fast made him hiss as pain shot down his leg, but what made him want to hiss even harder was the expression on Travis's face.

Or Travis in general, because the man looked like he'd been run down and then someone backed up one more time to finish the job.

The moment Travis noticed Ian, he straightened, but it was already too late. They were all paid big bucks to notice things, after all.

Thankfully, Ian didn't say anything, only stood up from the couch.

"Okay, I really have to go now," he said. "I'm going to make another delivery on Sunday, so if you want more of any particular dish or don't want a repeat of something from today, let me know before Saturday, okay?"

"You really don't have to—"

"Yeah, yeah, we've gone over this." Ian waved him off as he passed him. "Like I said, the deadline is Friday night, because I'm going shopping first thing on Saturday. See you, guys," he added, patting Travis on the shoulder on his way out.

And then he was gone, and Dave was perched on the couch while Travis was still too far away, looking like he wasn't sure how he'd gotten there.

This wouldn't do.

Dave got up slowly and grabbed his crutches but stopped himself before heading towards Travis, somehow sensing he should give him space.

It didn't mean he couldn't do anything, though.

After all, Ian's grandmother was right—food definitely helped with various ills.

"Our fridge is full, thanks to Ian, so we have our picks for dinner tonight. Tamales or a burrito the size of your forearm?"

Travis blinked once, then again.

"I'm not—" He paused before shaking his head. "I'd love some tamales, actually. But I need a shower first."

"Sure thing. I won't reheat them until you're back."

There were several questions Dave wanted to ask—what happened? How was the therapist? Was Travis going to go back there?—but he swallowed them all down.

An avalanche of questions wasn't what Travis needed from him right now, and Dave didn't need any telepathy to know that.

"Thanks." Travis finally moved from his place by the door and crossed the space in quick, easy steps, bypassing Dave altogether and heading straight upstairs. "I'll be back soon."

Narrowing his eyes at the loss of the touch that hadn't happened, Dave stared after Travis long after he disappeared from sight.

"One thing at a time," Dave muttered to himself in the end, returning to the couch. "One thing at a time."

It wasn't enough—far from it—but it was the best he could do right now.

Hopefully, the food and the company would be enough for Travis to lose some of the tension before bed.

And if not, there was more than enough food for Dave to try again tomorrow.