Page 51 of Under Cover
“That’s dumb,” Manny said. “That’s like actuallybeingblind and hating yourself for not knowing what the color blue looks like. Even ifboom, you can magically see, you still have to learn the difference between red and blue and yellow, and then you have to decide which one you want to paint your walls with, and then you have to accept that someone you love might want to paint your walls a totally different color.”
There was a silence—almost puzzled but mostly thoughtful—and then Garcia, oh God bless him with the quip or the retort or the one-liner, said, “Is this a nice way of telling me I should let him keep the chair in the living room?”
There was general laughter, and Crosby followed it up with, “I’m not giving up this chair. Your scrawny ass fits in anything. I got this chair and the department issue, and that’s about it.”
More laughter, and Garcia stood to collect trash. The rest of the team rose to help him clean up, and it was time to break up the party.
Gail was the last to leave, and she stood on tiptoe and kissed Crosby on the cheek before she followed Swan out the door. “Judson?” she said softly.
“Yeah?”
“I’m… I’m glad you found a place. You know. Where you can sleep.” Her eyes kept darting to the guest room, and he had a cold feeling at the base of his spine.
“Uh, Elsa?”
She blew out a breath through her nose. “Olaf, if you want people to think you’re staying in the guest room, you need to keep Garcia from bitching about your choice in sheets, okay? I’m not sure if anyone else caught it, but me and Swan—”
“Oh God,” he said, his stomach a ball of icy hell.
“Yeah, well, Chadwick and Carlyle don’t care either. I’m just saying, McEnany might.” She gave him a sudden, fierce hug. “But anyone who’s been working with you—and isn’t phobic and blind—has seen it brewing for months. Swan made you the day he got recruited and realized you were hurt. I was like, ‘He’s in the hospital,’ and Swan said, ‘His boyfriend is probably losing his shit.’ I was like, ‘Hey, they just met,’ and he was like, ‘My bad.’ But he saw it. I saw it. I’m glad you’re in this place now, but… but don’t lie and say it’s to protect Toby, okay? Garcia deserves better.”
Crosby wanted to argue. Hell, he wanted to tell her the whole story and explain they reallywerenew, but now was not the time.
“He does” is what he said instead, because it was true. “I won’t do him dirty.”
She smiled a little and nodded. “Take care. See you day after tomorrow, ’kay?”
“Yeah, Elsa. Thanks for having my six.”
“Always.” And with that, Gail waved gaily at Garcia, calling loudly, “Gotta go. Swan’s gonna leave without me, and I don’t want to take the train from Queens!”
“Later!” Garcia called, in the middle of shoving the trash down so he could take the bag out to the can on the side of the building. “Hold the door for me,” he told Crosby, easy as breathing, as he left. The rapid patter of his feet could be heard down the walkway, and Crosby leaned against the door idly, watching as Gail hopped into the SUV Manny had pulled around the curb. He wondered if all of them would be couples, Chadwick and Carlyle, Swan and Pearson. The thought broke off with Harding and Denison because Natalia had a wife, and as far as he knew, Harding had no life.
No. Maybe just him and Garcia. Or maybe that’s all he needed to know about for now.
Garcia walked up the steps, and Crosby backed up to let him go by and lock up. As Garcia walked through the house, he turned off the lights—the living room, the kitchen, the hall—and Crosby followed him through the house, getting a feel for the place, listening for the noises, wondering what it was like to live in a tiny house in the middle of the city. Then Garcia passed the guest room and turned to him as he switched on the light in his own room.
His dark eyes glinted slightly, and Crosby was remembering that hit, that kick to his stomach he’d felt the first time Garcia had walked into the conference room. He was remembering the way he’d longed to crush Garcia’s mouth to his for months and the raw noises he made when Crosby had been deep inside his body and how there’d been nothing in those moments of their jobs or law enforcement or pretend.
“Whatya thinking, Cowboy?” Garcia murmured as Crosby drew near.
That was easy. “Thinking I want you,” he said softly, bending his head to breathe in Garcia’s ear. With one hand he tilted Garcia’s head so he could kiss along his neck, while with the other, he switched off the light Garcia had just switched on.
“Yeah?”
Crosby ran his lips down from earlobe to shoulder, flickering his tongue along Garcia’s skin as he went. “Yeah.”
Garcia shuddered against him. “Anything else?”
“Thinking we’re not fooling anybody with this guest room bullshit,” he said, thrusting his hands up under Garcia’s T-shirt and hoodie. Garcia lifted his arms above his head and let Crosby pull the shirts off, and Crosby grew a little giddy with the thought of his naked body, the smoothness of his shoulders, the little bit of hair on his chest, the puckers of his nipples, all there for the taking.
Feeling decadent, he lowered his mouth to a brown nipple and welcomed Garcia’s fingers tightening in his hair. But not to stop him.
To urge him on.
“Only person you were fooling,” Garcia gasped, “was yourself.”
Crosby pulled hard at his nipple, and when those fingers tightened in his hair, he moved to the other one. He only teased this one, tickling with his tongue, until Garcia whimpered and bucked against him.