"If you'd listen to me, we wouldn't end up this dirty all the time." Stephen plopped into the kitchen chair, leaves in his hair and a dark smudge of mud on his cheek that stood out against his pale skin in the fading twilight.
"Yeah, yeah." Nick stumbled to a chair nearby, his own muscles trembling with fatigue. "Next time a Batrachotomus is headed my direction and you tell me to duck out of the way, I'll listen."
Stephen snorted softly. Nick smiled—he knew he wouldn't listen next time, either. He rarely did when he was caught up in a discovery. Not that it stopped Stephen from harassing him about it every time—it was something of a tradition at this point.
Nick scratched absently at a bug bite on his arm, then grimaced at the dirt under his fingernails. He needed a drink and a shower, not necessarily in that order. "Are you kipping here tonight?" Stephen nodded. "Go get cleaned up and I'll figure out something to eat."
"Sure, that sounds—" A soft ring interrupted, and a sigh seemed to work its way up from the soles of Stephen's feet as he slowly dug his mobile out of his pants pocket. A quick glance at the caller ID put a small grin on his face and he thumbed the answer button. "Hey there. Been a while."
The tone of Stephen's voice curled like a flame in Nick's chest. He knew it was ridiculous to envy the people Stephen dated—after all, Nick was the one Stephen spent his days with—but logic never worked for Nick where Stephen was involved. And Nick didn't know how—or even if—he wanted to deal with those feelings.
Turning away so Stephen couldn't see the expression on his face, the one that Nick was sure would give everything away, he put the kettle on, grasping at normality as he set their mugs on the counter. He leaned his hands on the edge of the sink and stared out of the window, out to the garden, trying not to listen but helpless to stop himself.
"Tonight?" Stephen said with obvious pleasure. "Sure, but I need to get cleaned up first. I'll meet you there."
Nick looked over his shoulder in Stephen's direction, and swallowed around the lump in his throat as Stephen shifted his hips to pocket the phone. The movement was sinuously graceful and sparked an all-too-familiar warmth low in his belly. "New plans, I take it?"
"Yeah, Zaf's in town, so we're going to meet up for a pint." Stephen started to run a hand through his hair, frowning when his fingers encountered a crumbling leaf. "I'll grab a shower and head out."
"All right." He turned back to the window, listening for a moment as Stephen left the room.
Nick turned to the fridge with a sigh and mentally revised his plans from company and conversation to a very quiet evening alone.
Nick's breath caught as Stephen came back through the door, flashing him an insouciant grin. Gone was the tired, grubby, and grime-covered man Nick had spent the day running after creatures with, and in his place was this gorgeous, dangerous predator. Stephen's shoulders were no longer slumped with exhaustion and the litheness of his body as he strutted into the kitchen was mesmerizing. The midnight blue jumper made his eyes seem more piercing than usual, flaying Nick open to the bone. Sliding into the chair across from Nick, he snatched Nick's sandwich from the plate and took a bite. Nick shook his head and reached for his tea.
"Tonight's one of those rare times when you make me feel old, Stephen. Stop it."
Stephen laughed. "You're not old, Nick. Just comfortably worn in." He winked as he stood up to grab his jacket. "I'll see you in the morning. Pick me up?"
"Sure. Have a good time."
"Thanks." With a clap on Nick's shoulder, Stephen was gone and the room felt empty, as if all life and illumination had departed with him.
Nick looked down at the half-eaten sandwich on his plate. He knew it wasn't fair, but he couldn't help but feel let down, as if he'd been stood up by his date.
They were in the pub surrounded by jubilant football fans a few days later when it happened again. Nick was about to suggest they should head somewhere quieter when a man about Stephen's age approached their table. Dark hair and eyes, Nick noticed, most likely of Middle Eastern descent. The man's confident movement and air of self-possession were strengthened by the unbuttoned collar and loosened tie that framed his prominent Adam's apple. He made something in Nick's hind brain want to push Stephen behind him and snarl "Mine!"
The man drew even with Stephen's chair, giving him a gentle nudge. "Imagine running into you here."
A look Nick couldn't decipher crossed Stephen's face, but it was swiftly replaced with a smile as he looked over. "Zaf! What are you doing here?"
The newcomer gestured with his glass to a group by the bar. "Meeting friends for a drink. I saw you over here and thought I'd stop by to say hi." Zaf held out his hand to Nick. "Zafar Younis. You must be Dr. Cutter."
"Call me Nick, please."
They shook hands and Nick tried not to bristle at the amused look Zaf shot Stephen before turning his full attention to Nick. "I've heard a lot about you, Nick."
Nick smiled in reply and glanced at Stephen, who was busy finishing off his drink. "Stephen tells me you're in town for work?"
"That I am. I'm running a six-week intensive on corporate computer security, helping companies that work with the government to verify they're dealing with the latest issues before their annual security audits." Zaf grinned. "But I won't bore you with the details. What are you two up to?"
"It's match day," Stephen said. "Where else would we be but in the company of our fellow fans?"
"Your fellow fans, you mean," Nick said, disgusted. "I just came for the drinks that you promised would get the vile taste of badly written dissertations out of my mouth. I think I've had enough for the day, however, since this won't get the papers I need to mark done. It was nice to meet you, best of luck with your seminar. Stephen?"
"Right. Zaf, are we still on for the weekend?"
"Yeah, I'll ring you up if anything changes."
As they stood to leave, Zaf caught Nick's eye. He lifted his glass infinitesimally in a toast as his glance flickered to Stephen and back to Nick, then grinned as he turned back toward his mates.
Over the next few weeks, Nick tried to think of a way to say something about how he felt—it shouldn't be this hard, it was Stephen, for God's sake, it's not like he had to censor himself around him—but then he'd think of Stephen and Zaf together. They were both gorgeous, poised, self-confident, talented, and evenly matched in so many ways that it seemed ridiculous to imagine Stephen would ever want to give a grumpy bastard ten years his senior a chance.
But dammit, he wasn't going to sit around moaning about it like a bloody great arse and give up without a lifting a finger.
Nick stood to grab a file from the cabinet and was surprised to find that the world outside the office was already fading into dusk. He turned back to his desk and flicked on the lamp that sat on the corner. "What do you say to curry and this week's Waking the Dead? There's no need to work all night."
Stephen set the box he was carrying on top of the stack in the corner with a low grunt of effort. "Zaf's going to pick me up and then we're meeting friends down at the pub. He's been offered a job doing security for a company here that he's thinking about taking."
"Ah." Nick stopped, unable to think above the racket in his head caused by that bit of unwelcome news. Stephen shot him a puzzled look, and the silence dragged out until Nick shook himself slightly. He gave Stephen a patently false smile and looked back down at the rock in his clenched hands—he had no memory of picking it up off his desk. "Well, then. Have a good time."
"What's the matter?"
"Hmm?" Nick ran shaking fingers lightly over the shale. He couldn't quite focus on it well enough to tell if the lines were an as-yet undocumented fin or just another fluke of the geologic processes that had created the fossil.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
"Don't give me that."
"Don't give you what?"
"That tone, the one that says you're upset about something but you don't want to fight about it."
Nick's gaze flew to Stephen's face. "I don't—you're imagining things. What would I want to fight about? I'm just going to go home and watch the telly, you're going to go out, and that's all there is to it. I'm not sure what you think there is to discuss." He nearly dropped the fossil on the desk as he fumbled to set it down.
A knowing smile slowly appeared as Stephen regarded him more closely. "You're jealous."
"Don't be stupid," he scoffed. "What would I be jealous of?"
Stephen shook his head in mock disgust as he rounded the corner of Nick's desk. "Twelve years, Nick."
"What?"
"I've known you for twelve years and not once did you hint that you might be interested in being something more than friends."
Nick crossed his arms over his chest. "How do you know I'm interested now?"
"Aside from the fact that you couldn't get me far enough away fast enough after we ran into Zaf at the pub? Or would you like the entire list?"
"Not really, no." Nick threw his hands up and tried another tack. "You were a student when I met you!"
"I haven't been a student for at least five years."
"But I'm your supervis—" Stephen glared at him, arms akimbo. "Fine, you're an adult and you know what you want. So why didn't you say something?"
"Do you really need me to answer that?" Stephen's eyes flitted to where Helen's pictures had sat on Nick's desk until a few months prior.
Nick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course not."
"I'm not dating Zaf again," Stephen said in a softer voice. "He wanted to, but I know it wouldn't have worked out any better the second time around than it did the first. Do you know why?"
Nick looked into Stephen's eyes and there it all was—the gentle amusement and fondness he saw there every day. He felt boneless with relief—it had been there the whole time, right in front of him, and he'd just been too stupid to see it.
"Apparently," Stephen continued, "I was a little too wrapped up in you. Which, oddly enough, is what Allison said when she got back last month, too."
The weight of the past few weeks lifted off Nick's shoulders. He framed Stephen's face with his hands, pulling him closer. Stephen's arms slipped around his waist, wrapping around him tightly as lips parted in welcome, and the tension and frustration of years melted away to nothing.
Nick pulled back just a little and murmured, "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"
Stephen didn't bother to answer. He simply smirked and kissed Nick again and again—on the lips, on the jaw, on the temple. Nick closed his eyes and revelled in the rare treat of following where Stephen led, responding without hesitation to the tender caress of a finger on his cheek and the unyielding press of a strong hand at the small of his back.
"It's not often you leave me an opening that big. Lucky for you that shot was just too easy." Stephen's husky voice sent a shiver down Nick's spine. "I should get a medal."
Nick laughed in spite of himself. "Oh shut it, Stephen."
"You really are an idiot. Do you honestly think I would have stuck around this long if I didn't love you?" Stephen leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "Which I do, by the way. Quite a lot."
Nick kissed him vehemently, intent on driving the truth into Stephen's very cells. "You have to know I do, too."
A moment later Nick leaned back and scowled. "I can't be blamed for thinking you were getting back together with him, you know, given the number of times you two have gone out in the last month."
"Admit it, you were jealous."
"Yes, fine, if it'll shut you up. I was jealous."
"Good, now you know how I felt about Helen." Stephen shrugged nonchalantly. "Hard to compete with a dead wife."
The guilt that quiet comment engendered was like a hand had grabbed his heart and squeezed until it stopped beating. "I take it back, we're both idiots."
That startled a short laugh out of Stephen. "Good to know nothing's changed, then."
Nick slid a hand behind Stephen's nape and pressed his own body closer, surprising a throaty moan out of Stephen when their hips brushed. Nick's tongue moved deftly along the seam of Stephen's lips, teasing them open to plunder the warm depths inside. He shifted back just enough—his breath mingling with Stephen's while his hands roamed—to whisper, "Oh, I don't know about that. I can think of a few things that are going to get much better, can't you?"
Jealousy is that Pain which a Man feels from the Apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the Person whom he entirely loves.
Thanks, as always: Veronica (my whip-toting editing goddess) and Alyse.
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