"So, what are you doing for Christmas?"
It was the question Danny had been dreading. He just hadn't expected it to come out of a sleepy silence, on a rainy morning at four a.m., on the drive back from a crime scene in Rockaway Beach. Trapped in a black SUV, the raindrops obscuring everything except for the path cleared by the wipers, he had no where to run, nothing to turn to. He couldn't even pretend he was asleep; he'd just answered a call from the Maryland state police about the missing victim they'd found trapped in an abandoned truck.
He'd thought he'd had his answer to that ubiquitous question ready. As Christmas approached, the office was abuzz with the sound of people's plans with their families or exciting trips to warmer climates. Danny knew that Sam's mom was visiting and he also got the feeling that Samantha was more resigned than excited. Marie was bringing the girls to the city and consequently, Jack's mood had improved a lot. Viv always had family at her house, coming in and out at all hours since several of them were in law enforcement.
He even knew what Elena was doing for the holidays. Things had never gone back to what they were before Sophia's kidnapping, and though Danny cared for them both, the temporary bond that had been forged between them had slowly unraveled until they found themselves regarding each other as close friends, not lovers. They'd both tried to drown their loneliness in a place they never should've gone, and the fact that they'd salvaged their friendship was something that Danny cherished.
"Hey, you awake?"
"Yeah."
The one person who'd made no mention of his Christmas plans, the guy who liked to wear Santa hats around the office and had a true, childlike love of all the commercialism and over-the-top traditions, had been noticeably silent this year.
"So, you have plans?"
Martin was clearly just making conversation. The adrenaline from finding the vic, alive and mostly unharmed, had faded fifty miles back. Danny searched for his planned response, once ready and now nowhere to be found.
"Not really. Sylvia's invited me over for tomorrow night for Christmas Eve dinner."
There was no mistaking the lack of enthusiasm in Danny's voice and Martin picked up on it immediately.
"You don't sound too thrilled. Is everything okay?"
"No, everything is not okay," Danny snapped. "She's a single mother raising two kids on a limited income while the father of her children sits in prison for God knows how long. Makes for a hell of a Christmas, doesn't it."
Uncomfortable silence thickened the air between them. Danny wanted to kick himself—it was hardly Martin's fault that his family was screwed up. Even worse, that wasn't what was really bothering him.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"No problem," Martin replied easily. "I can't imagine how tough it is for her. How's Rafi doing, anyway?"
Danny didn't want to discuss his brother, but in the wake of one already rude response, he resolved to be civil.
"Okay. He's done enough good time to be allowed back in the auto shop. He told Sylvia they have some decent vocational counselors there."
"That's good." Diplomatically, Martin stayed away from asking how long Rafi was going to remain in prison, and Danny was surprised when, instead of letting the topic drop, he found he wanted to continue the conversation.
"I guess so. You know, with his record, it's gonna be even harder when he gets out. Odds of him even getting a job to support his family are pretty slim."
He felt Martin shift in the seat beside him, settling more comfortably in the driver's seat. "Yeah, on the other hand, he has you and Sylvia to support him. Most cons don't have that kind of luck."
"I don't know if that's enough."
Before Danny knew it, another fifty miles had been chewed up as they talked about Rafi and Sylvia and their kids. Danny even fished out a picture of his niece Angela and held it up so Martin could admire it in the light of the overhead lamp. Soon, it was quiet between them again, but the knots of tension in Danny's neck had eased.
An hour outside of New York, Danny realized that he hadn't asked Martin about his plans. He'd successfully avoided revealing that his own Christmas was going to be spent alone in his apartment, but his curiosity about Martin's unusual reticence to talk about his holiday resurfaced.
"How about you? Going to D.C.?"
He glanced over at Martin in time to see Martin turn his head toward the driver's side window. "Not this year."
"Ah, everyone's coming to your place."
"Nope. No family this year."
There was a wistful note in Martin's flat statement but there was also no encouragement to pursue the topic. Danny scrubbed his hand over his mouth and thought about letting the subject drop, but some Martin-centered intuition told him to press on.
"How come?"
Beside him, Martin stiffened, then blew out a long breath. "My folks are divorcing. Mom's going to be at her sister's in Santa Fe. Dad—he hasn't let anyone know what his plans are yet."
Danny heard a world of hurt in those few simple sentences. He knew that Martin's relationship with his dad was problematic at times, but Martin's sense of family had always been so strong. To have it blown apart, especially around the holidays, had to be rough.
"I thought," Martin continued softly, "that I'd be okay about this, you know? Hell, I'm forty years old, I'm not a kid. People get divorced all the time and my parents haven't been happy for years."
"Doesn't matter how old you are. When did you find out?"
"Last week. I'd called down there to find out what time dinner was tomorrow night and Mom told me then. I guess Dad's been living in a condo in Georgetown for the past two months."
There was an edge of bitterness to Martin's voice now, and Danny understood. Two months had passed before they'd let their son know that his family had fallen apart. No, age didn't matter at all.
"God, Martin, I'm so sorry."
"Thanks. Anyway, my cousins invited me to hang out with them, but I said no."
Danny turned in his seat, curling one leg beneath him so he could see Martin's profile. That was very unlike Martin, since he was so close to his cousins. Much like Martin had admired Angela's picture earlier, Martin always had new pictures of his cousins' kids on his cell phone and loved to share them.
"Sounds like that's just what you need," he ventured. His own troubles forgotten, Danny somehow couldn't bear the thought of Martin without his family at Christmas. He was used to being alone; Martin most definitely was not.
But Martin was shaking his head. "I love being with the kids, but in between football games and Scrabble tournaments, their parents will either be feeling sorry for me or asking about my love life or telling me that they know someone I should meet. I'm just not up to that right now."
"Yeah, I hear that. Ever since Elena and I broke up, Sylvia's been trying to get me to meet some of her friends."
Lights from an oncoming car flashed across Martin's face just long enough to reveal a sharply clenched jaw.
"Had any luck?"
Danny shook his head. "Haven't tried."
Martin laughed softly. "What a couple of losers, huh?"
Danny's answering grin was forced. "Yeah, guess we are. Still think you should go see your family, though."
"Only if you come, too."
At first, Danny didn't believe what he'd heard. It took him a moment, then he chuckled. "You want me to go as your date? That'd sure stop them from trying to fix you up."
Martin didn't echo Danny's amusement. "They wouldn't mind if I brought a friend."
"They wouldn't?"
"Hell no, they'll love you. Matter of fact, they'll probably forget all about me once they get a good look at you."
"I don't know, Martin. Crashing someone's family celebration really does make me sound like a loser."
"Listen, people come in and out all the time and half of them have several friends or significant others in tow. Come on, say yes. What would you rather be doing on Christmas?"
Making love to you.
The thought was an old refrain, painful, but not new to Danny. The one thing that his ill-fated romance with Elena had proved to Danny beyond all reasonable doubt was that he'd never gotten over loving Martin and that stubborn hope and unending despair would always be associated with the man at his side.
Martin was warming to the idea. "It's really pretty casual. Everyone shows up after the kids have opened their presents, but if we time it right, we'll be in time for breakfast leftovers. There's usually a touch football game in the yard in the afternoon, or board games, whatever. Dinner's early because everyone has other places to go."
Danny could feel himself wavering. Martin was painting a Norman Rockwell picture with his offhand but affectionate description, but for Danny, it was the temptation of seeing Martin happy, seeing him with people that he loved, that was making the word 'yes' form on his lips.
Abruptly, Martin hit the brakes and Danny was propelled forward. Martin's arm shot out and braced him, preventing him from straining against the seatbelt.
"Sorry, you okay?"
Danny blinked at the sea of red lights filling the windshield of the SUV. "Yeah, I'm okay. Think there's an accident?"
"I can't see anything on this side. Anything on the right?"
"No, I can't—wait, hang on. I see a van pulling over to the shoulder. Back tire's blown out." He sighed and rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes. "They're about eight cars ahead of us."
"Great." Martin rocked his head from side to side, working out the kinks. "At this rate we won't be home before sunrise."
"Man, no kidding."
The SUV crawled forward. With the break in the conversation, the prospect of spending Christmas with Martin's family lost its appeal. Danny was glad the subject had been dropped and figured he could bow out gracefully. He was just about to officially decline Martin's offer when something caught his eye.
"Oh, no. Hey, Martin, pull over. Up ahead of the van up here."
"Huh? Why?"
"There's some woman trying to change that tire on the van all by herself."
"Yeah, okay. Check the right side, let me know if it's okay to move over."
Danny craned his head toward the back of the SUV. "Yeah, go, move."
Martin flipped on the emergency lights and pulled over onto the shoulder several yards ahead of the van. Both men unsnapped their belts and opened their doors, the steady December rain chilling them instantly. They grabbed their FBI windbreakers from the back seat and as Martin popped the hatch to grab a flashlight, Danny half-trotted over to the van where a middle-aged woman stood staring disconsolately at the ruptured tire. In one hand was a jack and in the other a wrench, but the spare was nowhere in sight.
He had to raise his voice over the sound of the rain pounding on the roof of the van. "Ma'am? Ma'am, do you need some help?"
The woman turned and dropped the jack as she backed up a step. Martin joined them and flipped out his I.D., shining the flashlight so she could see the badge.
"I'm Special Agent Fitzgerald, this is my partner, Special Agent Taylor. Can we give you a hand?"
"God, yes." The woman sagged with relief. "I don't know how to change a flat."
Danny picked up the jack. "I'll start this," he said to Martin. "You find the spare."
"Got it." Martin turned to the woman. "Why don't you go sit down in the back seat in our car, get out of the rain."
The woman nodded and trudged toward the SUV. Danny started pumping the jack, pausing occasionally to wipe the rainwater from his eyes. He'd just gotten the van lifted when he felt Martin's hand fall on his shoulder.
"Never mind," Martin yelled. "Spare's flat, too."
"Crap." Danny quickly lowered the jack and tossed it and the wrench into the back of the van. They ran back to the SUV and climbed inside, both of them turning in their seats to face backward. The woman sat shivering in the back seat, her black nylon raincoat shining in the overhead light. Her plain, plump face looked back at them with an admiring smile.
"Is it fixed? You boys are fast."
Danny shared a glance with Martin. "No, ma'am, it's not fixed. Your spare is flat, too. Do you have Triple A?"
The woman seemed to fold in on herself, her smile fading as her face crumpled. "No. We're a non-profit, we don't have any money for that."
"A non-profit?" Martin asked.
The woman scrubbed her hands over her face, then sat up. "Sorry, it's been a bad, bad day. My name is Loretta Keys. I'm the director of the Campbell Foundation."
"Campbell Foundation. I've heard of that." Danny looked at Martin. "They run inner city urban camps for kids, right?"
"Right. And in the back of that van are ten dozen eggs and forty pounds of butter that I need to get to the kitchens by seven. By the time I get a tow truck back here and get that thing changed, it may be too late."
Danny looked at Martin, to find Martin looking back at him, unsmiling but with that tiny crease near his mouth making an appearance. Normally bright blue eyes were heavy-lidded with fatigue, but an unspoken agreement was already being arranged between them.
"Too late for what?" Danny asked.
Loretta stared at her hands. She was obviously exhausted, a woman nearing the end of a very long rope. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes. "Every year we supply cookie dough to the facilities, so that the kids can bake and decorate them. They in turn distribute them to local children's hospitals and to kids that are house-bound on Christmas. And they get to take some home to their families, too. But this year, our supplier couldn't provide enough butter and eggs, so we had to go begging. One wholesaler came through for us but he couldn't deliver, so that's why I had to go pick it up myself."
She reached for the door handle. "I'd better go get my phone and call for a tow truck. Maybe things will just have to be a little late this year."
"Wait, hold on." Danny, after receiving an affirming nod from Martin, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his own phone. "I'll arrange for a tow truck and let New Jersey State Police know not to give you a ticket."
"Meanwhile," Martin continued, "let's get your stuff in the back of our car. I think we can have it all delivered on time."
Loretta stared from one agent to another. "You gotta be kidding me. Somehow I can't imagine the federal government paying you for delivering groceries, especially at five o'clock in the morning."
"Hey, what happens in Jersey, stays in Jersey, right?" Danny grinned as Loretta laughed, shaking her head.
"I won't tell if you won't. Okay, let's go."
Danny made his calls and then went back out into the rain to help Martin and Loretta shift the boxes of butter and crates of eggs into the back of the SUV. After moving all the contents, Martin and Danny huddled under the SUV's open hatch as Loretta retrieved her purse from the van.
Martin pushed one of the crates more firmly into alignment with the others, then turned to Danny with a grin. "All right, who's staying with the van until the truck shows up?"
In reply, Danny rested his fist in the open palm of his other hand. "Ready?"
Martin's mouth twitched as he imitated Danny's pose. "Go."
"One, two, three—damn." Martin's paper beat out Danny's rock, but Danny didn't mind, as Martin covered Danny's fist and gave it a squeeze. "Two out of three?"
"Sorry, man," Martin said, his fingers wriggling until they rested inside Danny's half-closed palm. His eyes searched Danny's as the gentle, unconventional handshake continued "Give me a call when you get the van up and running again and we'll meet somewhere. If you're up for it, maybe we can grab some breakfast."
Danny's hand tightened around the rain-slick fingers, then he let go. He thought about how tired he was, how his bones felt heavy with fatigue. "Sounds good. Drive safe, okay?"
Martin was silent, then nodded. "You, too."
They caught up with each other less than two hours later, just as the sky was lightening into a soggy, cloud-swept dawn. The van had been towed to a service station, where both tires had been patched up. As soon as it was ready, Danny had called Martin and found he was still at the Foundation's main office, having volunteered to help out until he'd heard from Danny. Martin gave Danny directions to the Brooklyn Heights address and was waiting for him at the Foundation's door.
In the time that they'd been apart, Danny's emotions had bounced from one extreme to the other. He wanted to retreat from the feelings that he'd fought so hard to hold back, like the simple pleasure of Martin's company, and the comforting certitude that they could still communicate without words. He'd clearly come too close to letting himself see things that weren't there, such as the sincerity of Martin's invitation to his family's holiday, or the warmth from their rock-paper-scissors moment. Martin was just being nice, because he was a nice guy. Martin's touch hadn't lingered any longer than a friendly pat on the back, it meant nothing.
And all those arguments faded as soon as he saw Martin leaning in the doorway, looking as tired and spent as he felt. But that smile, that damn smile, that mischievous, self-deprecating, inviting-Danny-to-share-the-moment smile—made Danny forget all about quick excuses and going home to get some badly needed perspective.
It got worse as he joined Martin in the small glass foyer that led into the Foundation's reception area. It seemed that Martin had done more than haul boxes since they'd been apart; there was flour in the hair near his temples and over his blue tee-shirt was a plain cotton apron with the Foundation's emblem stitched on the front.
"C'mon," Martin said. He clapped Danny on the shoulder and led him through the small office and into the industrial-sized kitchens beyond. "You gotta see this."
Once inside the warehouse-sized room, Danny could see why Martin was impressed. A series of long banquet tables stretched out before them, each one covered with all the ingredients for making cookies. There were six stations on each table, and each station had several people, including children, making dough according to a recipe taped to the table. Christmas music poured out of the sound system, and to one side was another table set up with coffee, hot chocolate and donuts.
"Isn't this great?" Martin pointed toward a stack of gallon-sized, unlabeled ice cream containers. "The dough gets loaded in those and then shipped out to the family centers. I've already made two batches."
He took Danny's elbow and led him over to a table where two adults and two kids in their teens were in the midst of making a batch of dough.
"Danny, these are the Hendersons. Loretta assigned me to their team while I waited for you. You guys, this is Danny."
Danny shook hands with the parents and received a beaming smile from Mrs. Henderson. "Nice to meet you, Danny. Martin told us you're his partner—how long have you boys been together?"
"Uh—" Danny stuttered. He shot a look at Martin, who instead of being embarrassed, merely looked thoughtful. "Not like that. We work together. See?" He turned his back to them so they could see the bold FBI lettering on the back of his jacket.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Mrs. Henderson was confused. "I thought—"
"Hey, it's okay," Martin broke in quickly. "Happens all the time."
"Yeah, right." Danny's sideways glance was eloquent, but he didn't say anything else. The noise level in the room was rising as more groups arrived to mix dough. It was only eight o'clock, but the atmosphere in the kitchens was suffused with the kind of holiday cheer that Danny thought only appeared in the movies. Watching Martin grab a handful of eggs and start cracking them into a bowl, he decided he wanted in.
"Hey, how can a guy get in on some cookie action around here?"
The shine in Martin's eyes belied the teasing tone of his answer. "Thought you wanted breakfast."
"I see donuts and coffee. That'll work for me." He reached up and brushed at the flour in Martin's hair. He'd been wearing it shorter than usual, giving the boyish face a leaner, more world-weary appearance. But this morning, even without having slept for over twenty-four hours, the lines around his eyes had faded. Danny didn't know what had eased those crinkles away, but he did know he wanted whatever it was to continue.
He laughed as Martin slapped his hand out of the way. "Knock it off, Taylor," he grumbled with a good-natured grin.
"Sorry," was Danny's insincere reply. "Food, then you can teach me the finer points of cookie dough."
"All right, c'mon."
Martin led Danny to the refreshment table, where they found a revived Loretta putting out more donuts.
"Hey, you made it." She beamed at Danny and handed him a plate. "You boys sure came through for me. Grab yourself some food for the road."
"We're not leaving quite yet." Martin began filling his plate with donuts. "Danny wants to try his hand at mixing up a batch of dough."
"That's great!" Loretta scanned the room. "But it looks like all the tables are full. Do me a favor instead? We need to get some supplies out of the walk-in and I'm short a couple of workers. Would you mind?
Danny set his plate aside. "Not at all. Right, Martin?"
Martin's cheeks were already bulging, but he nodded. After a quick sip of coffee, he and Danny followed Loretta to the large walk-in cooler and watched her pull at the heavy latch that opened the thick door.
"In the back should be some boxes of hamburger and hot dogs, and a couple of bags of frozen potatoes. We need them brought toward the front here so they're ready to be loaded later."
"Uh, Loretta?" Danny tugged at his ear. "I'm not familiar with any cookie recipe that calls for a dirty water weenie. Are you sure that's what you need?"
Loretta flipped on the light on the inside of the door. "We provide lunch for the kids at all our facilities. That's why we're mixing the dough here, so we get that step out of the way. We'll deliver the food with the dough later. Okay, I need to shut this door. Holler if you can't find anything."
She ushered them inside and closed the door, leaving them in the murky light of four naked bulbs hung from the ceiling. The room was too cool for comfort and smelled of soured milk and wilted vegetables. Danny wrinkled nose as he followed Martin into the back of the storeroom, glad he was still wearing his windbreaker but finding it was of little real help.
"You see anything?" he asked. The room will stacked with boxes and crates, making it possible for only one person to walk through the aisles at a time.
"Not yet. Man, I wish I had my flashlight. How does anyone see anything in here?"
"I can go get one out of the car, if you want."
"Yeah, good idea."
"Be right back."
As Danny turned to leave, the toe of his right foot bumped against the edge of the thick rubber mat covering the walkway. He stumbled and tried to use his left foot for balance, but it too gave out when it hit a sticky patch. With a muffled yelp, he twisted as he fell, ramming his shoulder into the hard concrete floor and knocking the wind out of him.
"Danny! Jesus, Danny, you okay?"
Clutching at his elbow, eyes tightly shut, he rolled over until his forehead collided with a cardboard box. He felt Martin's knees bump against his back as frantic hands stroked over his thigh and head.
"C'mon, man, talk to me! You okay?"
"Yeah," Danny squeezed out between clenched teeth. "Gimme a minute."
The pain in his elbow and upper arm was dulling to a sharp throb as he forced air in and out of his nose. As the discomfort receded, he noticed that his head was being supported by Martin's hand, his broad, warm palm a cushion between Danny's cheek and the clammy floor. Martin's other hand had moved upward until it rested on Danny's ribcage, holding him there beneath his injured arm.
"Let me get some help." Martin's voice was very close to his ear. "Can you sit up?"
"No, it's okay." Danny curled his legs and prepared to lift his head. "Don't think anything's broken. Just hurts like hell."
"No kidding," Martin said with ragged humor. "The girly scream was my first clue. Okay, easy now. Let me help."
With Martin's aid, Danny levered his body forward until he was upright. Still holding his stinging elbow, Danny started to scoot around so that his back would be supported by the nearby crates. He found his way blocked when Martin shifted behind him and slid his arms beneath Danny's in a loose embrace, guiding Danny into the curve of his body until he was enfolded by Martin's warmth.
Danny hesitated for only a second before letting his body slump against the solid comfort of Martin's chest. Martin hadn't put his windbreaker back on before entering the cooler and his arms were chilled, prompting Danny to tighten his hold in an attempt to warm them.
Even that movement elicited a gentle rebuke from Martin. "Hey, relax, get your breath back."
It was exquisite torture to be cradled in Martin's embrace, regardless of the circumstance, and Danny couldn't stop himself from taking advantage. With a strangled sigh he hoped was mistaken for pain-filled moan, he turned his face into the warm pocket of air created between Martin's jaw and shoulder. The odor of mildew and chlorine was lost in the clean, salty scent of Martin's skin, and Danny drank it in. When Martin's hand gently cupped the base of his skull to press him closer, his heart climbed into his throat and lodged there. There'd been so many lonely nights when he'd dreamed of something like this, of resting safely within a world made of just the two of them, that for a moment he let himself forget that world didn't exist.
The impromptu hug lasted only seconds, but for Danny, it rocked him to his core and shook apart his carefully constructed belief that his feelings for Martin were under his control. He forced himself not to jerk away and instead moved slowly away from Martin as if getting his bearings. Martin scrambled to his feet and grasped Danny's uninjured arm to guide him upwards. When they were both standing, Martin remained close as if afraid Danny was going to fall, his fingers still wrapped around Danny's wrist.
Even in the pallid glow of the low wattage bulbs, they were so near that he could see the delicate lashes that framed Martin's eyes. Martin was watching him, his expression open, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
"You are okay, right?" he asked quietly. "You're not just acting like a tough guy on my account?"
"Fine." It was all that Danny could manage, because Martin's gaze had fallen to Danny's mouth and was lingering there. For an instant, Danny thought he saw his own desires reflected in Martin, but the moment passed when Martin dropped his gaze to his feet.
"You scared the hell out of me." Martin's tone was lightly scolding, but there was an edge to it. He gave Danny's good arm a tiny shake before letting him go. "Do you know how ticked off Jack would be if I had to tell him that I broke you?"
Danny massaged his sore elbow. "Hey, I'm not exactly thrilled about it, either." He was about to continue when he saw Martin shiver. "Come, let's get out of here before you turn into an FBI slushy."
Once back inside the humid, vanilla-scented warmth of the kitchens, Martin led Danny to a chair and ordered him to sit down and take off his jacket.
"Why?" Danny argued, even as he was unzipping the jacket. "I said I was okay."
"Right, that's why you're clenching your teeth while you're trying to peel off that sleeve. Here, let me."
Martin removed Danny's jacket and nudged the chair with his foot in a not so subtle gesture. Danny rolled his eyes but sat down anyway. His elbow and shoulder were only raw from the impact, but he could see that Martin wasn't going to be satisfied until he'd seen it for himself. What he wasn't expecting was for Martin to blow warm air on his hands and then pull aside the collar of Danny's tee-shirt in order to run his fingers across Danny's clavicle.
Danny flinched away. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure you didn't crack your collar bone. Hold still." He finished his examination, then tugged the shirt back into place. "Let me see you straighten your arm."
"And just where did you study medicine, Dr. Fitzgerald?"
"Are you kidding? You play football as long as I did, you pretty much learn how to recognize a broken bone, either your own or your teammate's. Come on, just do it and get it over with."
Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Danny held out his arm for Martin's inspection. Martin offered him a ruthless grin before carefully rotating Danny's wrist, skimming his fingers over the rapidly bruising flesh near his elbow until he was satisfied.
Releasing Danny, he picked up his windbreaker and handed it to him.
"I didn't feel anything, but maybe you should see a doctor."
"Martin, I am fine. I don't need a doctor. An aspirin probably wouldn't hurt, but I'll live." He pulled on the jacket, wincing slightly as the fabric pulled across his arm. "And it wasn't a girly scream. More like a—a manly gurgle."
Martin bit his lip, obviously fighting a smile. "A manly gurgle, right. Thanks for clarifying that."
Danny struggled to his feet as the fatigue that he'd been ignoring bore down on him. "Think I'll pass on the cookies, though. I don't know about you, but suddenly I'm beat."
Martin nodded. "Yeah, me too. Let me go get my jacket and let Loretta know that we failed in our box moving mission."
"You do that, I'm gonna grab some donuts and coffee for the road."
"Hey, get some for me, too?"
"Otherwise you'll just steal mine, right?"
"Damn straight I will."
"Danny? Hey, Danny, wake up. We're home."
A light touch on Danny's shoulder awakened him from a light doze. He was smashed against the passenger side window, his sore elbow held close to his chest, and straightening from that position elicited a heartfelt moan.
"Home? My place?" he muttered. He blinked a couple of times to clear the cobwebs as the sounds of New York in the throes of its early morning rush began to penetrate his brain.
"Yeah, I thought about leaving you at Grand Central with a note pinned to your shirt but changed my mind."
Danny grunted as he rubbed at his shoulder. It had stiffened up during the final drive home and there was a dull ache spreading from his forearm to his neck. As much as he wanted to stay in the warmth of the SUV instead of venturing onto the icy sidewalk outside his apartment building, the lure of a hot shower and a soft bed was too strong.
His fingers were wrapping around the door handle when he was stopped by a quick tap on his wrist.
"How about eleven?"
"What?"
Danny turned to look at Martin, who was gazing back with an uncharacteristically shy smile.
"To pick you up tomorrow. That should get us at my uncle's house in plenty of time for post-breakfast, pre-dinner snacks."
Danny stared at him. He'd forgotten about spending Christmas with Martin's family, and after the morning they'd spent together, the prospect of being with Martin had turned bittersweet. It wasn't Martin's fault that Danny wanted something beyond friendship, but after that brief moment of innocent captivity in Martin's arms, Danny knew that viewing Martin as a co-worker, even a close friend, was something that was beyond him now.
But the hopeful gleam in Martin's bloodshot eyes was hard to resist. The intensity Danny saw there was too beguiling, and Danny knew if he squinted hard enough, he could convince himself that there was more in Martin's offer than a pity invitation.
"Sounds good," Danny murmured, regretting the agreement almost immediately.
The bloom of happiness that lit up Martin's face was startling, and Danny's heart flipped in his chest.
"Great! And don't worry about bringing anything because believe me, you'll be leaving with a plate full of leftovers. The good kind, too, not weird Jell-O salad or fruitcake."
Danny felt the tenuous hold on his doubts begin to slip in the face of Martin's genuine enthusiasm.
"All right," he laughed. "I'm sold. Eleven sounds good."
The promised hot shower did wonders for Danny's sore arm, but the fall had left him bruised along his entire upper arm as well his ribcage, where'd he bounced against his elbow. He'd certainly had worse and after a cursory examination, he didn't give the damage another thought. Within an hour of Martin of driving away from the curb, Danny had thrown on a pair of sweatpants and had crawled bare-chested in to bed.
The chime of his cell awakened him from a deep sleep. Without pausing to check the time, he stumbled to where he'd tossed his jeans and fished the phone out of the pocket. His stomach dropped when he read the caller's I.D.
"Elena?"
"Danny, hi! Feliz Navidad!"
Danny scrubbed a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was three in the afternoon and he'd slept hard, leaving him disoriented and dry-mouthed.
"Yeah, thanks. What's up?"
"My mom had this great idea. Why don't you come over and spend Christmas with us tomorrow?"
"What? Tomorrow? I don't know, I have—"
"Aw, say yes, please? Sophie misses you so much. She asks about you all the time."
Danny cringed as the playfully pleading tone scraped at his nerves. It was true that he missed Sophie as well, but no matter how many times he promised himself that he would make more of an effort to see her, somehow it always got placed on a back burner. He'd managed to avoid feeling guilty about it, but now he knew he'd run out of time.
"Maybe for a little while, yeah."
Elena laughed. "A little while? No, come for opening presents, stay all day. There's tons of food and we can go to church. They're having a concert there in the evening. Come on, say yes. It'll be fun!"
Danny dropped down on the edge of his bed and lowered his head into his free hand. All of his doubts about spending time with Martin came flooding back as he realized he now had the perfect out. Martin knew he had a special relationship with Elena's daughter, so if he decided to cancel with Martin in favor of spending time with Sophie, surely he'd understand? Of course he would, because what Martin didn't know, and never could know, was that Danny was in love with him, and that the truth of that unavoidable fact brought Danny no joy, only a pain that being near Martin did nothing to assuage.
Besides, Martin hadn't wanted to attend his family's Christmas, not with how things were with his parents. But by now, he'd probably already promised his uncle that he'd show up, and just because Danny was backing out was no reason for Martin not to go, something he would end up being glad he did. He really didn't need Danny to go along to make that happen.
"Yeah, okay. "
"Don't sound so excited," Elena teased. "Come over early, because you know kids, they can't wait to open presents. In fact, if you want to spend the night—"
"I can't. I'm going to Sylvia's for dinner tonight."
"Ah, right. Okay, I'm going to tell Sophie that Uncle Danny is coming for Christmas. She will be thrilled."
Danny disconnected and remained where he was, staring into space. After a moment, he brought up Martin's cell number on his phone, hesitating before pressing the button. Despite now having a perfectly good excuse for bowing out of sharing Martin's holiday, his stomach was tying itself into knots. It seemed that denying himself the simple pleasure of Martin's company, in spite of his best intentions, was going to be harder than he thought.
He disregarded any temptation to crawl back into bed and walked into his living room. Sitting on the coffee table was a pile of gift-wrapped boxes and festive bags, most of them for his niece and nephew and a few for Sophie. Figuring he'd never have kids of his own, he loved to spoil the ones in his life already.
Sitting next to the garishly wrapped presents was another small box, set off to the side, wrapped in dark blue paper and tied with a white bow. It had been an impulse buy, one of those instances where you see the perfect gift for someone, and even though you've never exchanged presents with that person before, you have to get it. Yet even as he'd purchased it, Danny had realized the foolishness of his actions. But there had been a sort of illicit pleasure in buying Martin a gift, like a secret Danny could keep close to his heart. He doubted he'd ever have the guts to actually hand it over to Martin, but having it tossed in amongst the other gifts let him pretend just a little. It would probably end up forgotten in a drawer somewhere, shoved away until the bright ribbon became frayed and dulled with time.
Danny knew he was putting off the inevitable as he wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of juice. Martin needed to know sooner than later that Danny wasn't going with him tomorrow, but the knots in his stomach wouldn't go away. He rehearsed what he was going to say, how he'd make Martin agree that this time of year was for children. Then he'd offer some kind of consolation arrangement, maybe suggest they have lunch at that new Italian place around the corner from the office. In his head it sounded reasonable, but the growing hollow feeling in his chest told him he was lying to himself, and lying badly.
He finally made the call an hour later, wanting to have it over before he left for Sylvia's. By then he'd showered again and dressed and had taken some ibuprofen for his sore arm. Nicky and Angela's gifts were in a bag by the front door, plus another for Sylvia. In another bag he had plates of pre-sliced meats and cheeses, packages of bread and cookies and anything else he could think of to make their holiday a little bit brighter. With Rafi in prison, he felt he couldn't do enough.
There was nothing left to do but phone Martin. He perched on the arm of the couch and fished out his phone, thumbing through the names until he found Martin's. With a deep breath, he pressed the number.
It was answered on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Martin, it's Danny."
"Hey, how's the arm?"
Danny bit his lip."It's good. No permanent damage."
"Glad to hear it. Listen, I'm glad you called. Turns out we have to bring something after all, so I'm going to pick you up a little earlier so we can stop at a store on the way out of town, say around ten thirty. Seems someone's forgotten to bring chocolate covered cherries, and apparently it's just not Christmas without them. Is that okay?"
"Listen, Martin, about tomorrow—"
"Yeah? Is that too early?"
"No, no, it's not. It's just that—I'm going to have to bail on you."
"Bail? Why?"
Crossing his arm over his chest, Danny bowed his head. "Look, I know you invited me just to be nice, and I really appreciate it, but I—I'm going over to Elena's instead."
A few seconds of silence ticked by. When Martin spoke, he sounded strangely breathless.
"Elena's? I don't understand. I thought you two were over a long time ago."
"Oh, yeah, we are. It's just that I haven't seen Sophie in a while, and I have some presents for her, so when Elena called and invited me, I thought it was a good idea."
"When did she call?" Martin asked quietly.
The gnawing in Danny's gut sharpened. "Couple of hours ago. Listen, I'm sorry that it's such short notice, but it's probably for the best, right? Now you don't have to come and get me and you can head out whenever you want to."
This time, the silence lasted so long that Danny as afraid they'd lost the connection.
"Martin? You still there?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Sorry. Uh, yeah, so have a good time, okay? Tell Elena I said hi."
"I will. And I was thinking, next week, you and I could—"
"Hey, I gotta run. Merry Christmas, Danny."
The line went dead.
"Danny, you know I love you, right?"
Danny looked up from the pile of wrinkled wrapping paper he'd been absently shredding and watched as Sylvia sat down beside him on the couch. Taking the offered cup of coffee, he nodded.
"Sure, why?"
Sylvia fidgeted with the mug in her hand and gave him a small smile. "Because, no kidding, you are terrible company tonight. I mean, you were great with the kids, but I can't get two words out of you. Something wrong?"
Danny shoved the paper away and leaned back into the sagging cushions. Since Rafi had gone back to prison, he'd become closer to Sylvia and Nicky. He'd been at Sylvia's side when Angela was born and had come to think of her as a friend. Right now, he was noticing how tired she looked, and with good reason. With two kids to care for, a lousy paying job, and her fiancé in prison, she had a lot on her plate. She'd probably been up half the night wrapping presents for her kids, and Danny had been touched that she'd gotten him a gift too, a Mets desk calender that pleased him more than any expensive trinket. She'd seemed thrilled with the sweater he'd gotten her, even though now he could tell that he'd gotten the wrong size.
After spending the evening with her and the kids and her parents, they were alone with their coffee and a plate of stale store-bought Christmas cookies. With all her own trouble, Sylvia had asked about Danny, and on this Christmas Eve, he really needed a friend.
"I think I screwed up," he confided with a lopsided grin.
Sylvia curled her legs beneath her and settled into the corner of the couch. "You think? People who say stuff like are usually pretty sure that they did."
"Yeah, very true." They shared an amused glance before Danny sobered. "So, yeah, I screwed up. I just don't know if trying to fix it will only make things worse."
"Worse for who?"
"For the person I hurt."
"I don't know, it seems like if you try and make things right, it can only be a good thing."
"But what if, by trying to make things right, I mess up our friendship?"
"Friendship with who? Danny, are you talking about Elena? Do you want to get back together with her?"
"No, not Elena. Elena was a distraction, a mistake. We both know that now."
"Then who? Whoever it is, to have you this upset, maybe she isn't so much of a friend."
Danny took a deep sip of coffee and debated disclosing the full measure of his troubles. His relationship with Sylvia had been forged under such harsh circumstances that Danny trusted her not to judge him, but he also didn't want to make her uncomfortable.
He felt a nudge on his sore shoulder and he winced, pulling away before he could stop himself.
"You okay?" Sylvia asked. "It still hurts?"
Danny rubbed his elbow, his mouth curling into a reminiscent smile. "A little."
"So what happened exactly? You didn't say."
His smile widened. "See, Martin and I helped this woman with a flat tire on the way back from Maryland, right? Turns out she was arranging for all this cookie dough to be delivered to these family clubs that bake them and decorate them and deliver them to kids in hospitals. Martin got there before I did and you could tell he was having so much fun, so we stayed and helped out for while. At least until I tripped over my feet and made an ass of myself."
"Sounds like you had fun, too."
Danny looked up in surprise. "Yeah, I guess I did. Why?"
Sylvia's expression was gently inquisitive. "Because you lit up when you talked about it. Like it was a happy memory." She set her mug aside and hugged her knees to her chest. "Listen, Danny, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, and I don't want to put you on the spot, but does this have something to do with Martin?"
Danny stared at her, unsure of what to say. When he didn't respond, Sylvia shrugged and reached for a cookie.
"You talk about him a lot, did you know that? Even when you're mad at him, you still have to bring him up." She popped the cookie into her mouth, then spoke around it. "Whenever you talk about work, you talk about Martin."
"No way, I don't do that."
"Yeah, you do, and that never happened with Elena. It was always Sophie this and Sophie that, and Elena is so beautiful and you were so lucky and it was, you know, cute. Maybe I'm out of line, but it also seemed like you were trying too hard. So when you told me that you and Elena had split up, I thought it was probably a good thing, but I never thought there was somebody else. And there is somebody else, right?"
Danny sat forward and placed his cup on the floor before burying his face in his hands. "My brother does not deserve such a smart woman," he muttered. He peeked through his fingers at Sylvia. "Why aren't you freaked out about this?"
Giggling, Sylvia snatched a throw pillow and wrapped her arms around it. "Which part? That Rafi Alvarez's macho brother is gay or that he's carrying a torch for that nice, WASP-y boy with the pretty blue eyes?"
"That's right, you met him at Rafi's hearing. I forgot about that."
"Did you also forget how he took Nicky out for a sandwich so he wouldn't have to see his father in handcuffs?" There was no bitterness in her voice, only a weary sadness that she didn't deserve.
"No." Danny reached for the coffee cup and stared blindly into the lukewarm liquid. "That, I didn't forget."
"So how did you screw up?"
Danny shook his head. "It's not important. I'm probably making a big deal out of nothing."
But he wasn't and he knew it. Martin's pleasure at having Danny with him on Christmas hadn't been faked and neither had the disappointment in his voice when Danny had begged off. In an attempt to stop himself from dreaming of something he could never have, Danny had damaged the one thing he cherished the most.
And he still didn't know how to fix it.
"It is a big deal, you just don't want to admit it." Sylvia stood up and began gathering dishes. "You're just like your brother that way. Too much pride."
Danny grabbed the plate of cookies and joined her in the kitchen. "What am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, call him, say you're sorry, try and fix whatever it is you did that hurt him." She began running water in the sink and handed Danny a towel, retaining an edge in her grip so he couldn't pull away. "Don't wait, Danny. Don't wait for something bad to happen, because whatever pain you're feeling now? It is nothing compared to that. You hear me? Nothing."
Her fervent words struck a chord of remembrance inside Danny. For an instant, he didn't see Sylvia's dingy kitchen or the cheap paper decorations taped to the cupboards. Instead he was transported to a rain-slicked street where blood ran in long crimson rivulets to the gutter, and the smell of cordite and rubber scorched his lungs and burned his eyes. He wanted to cry about that black, cold night, but he never had, and it always hurt.
"I know," he whispered. "I know."
After a night spent walking around his apartment interrupted only by brief naps on his couch, Danny was no closer to a resolution than he'd been when he left Sylvia's. He didn't bother going to bed and was at Elena's in time to see Sophie open up an embarrassing number of presents. And everything was fine while he watched her, that childish wonder and enthusiasm temporarily distracting him from his ongoing inner conversation.
If Elena noticed his preoccupation, she didn't comment on it, and soon her small house was brimming with family showing up for Christmas breakfast. He smiled and said all the right things, but all the while he was watching the clock.
What would Martin be doing now? Getting ready to go see his own family, probably with a carload of presents despite his earlier reluctance to spend the holiday with them. Maybe he'd be eating something disgusting over his kitchen sink with a towel wrapped around his neck so he didn't stain his sweater, because Danny pictured him in a sweater that Martin bought because it was on sale, not because the midnight hue matched his eyes.
Everyone was setting up food for a big breakfast when Elena approached him. He had been sitting on the floor with Sophie and her cousins, admiring their toys and trying to keep himself distracted, but he wasn't doing a good job. It'd just turned eleven and Danny had been tracking Martin's progress in his mind, not realizing that the kids had scampered off with their loot, leaving him staring at the floor, lost in thought.
A touch on his shoulder brought his head up to see Elena looking down at him with a small smile. She is so beautiful, he thought, but it was the kind of admiration a man had for a work of art, not for a lover. His pulse didn't race when she was nearby, he didn't seek her out when they were in a crowd. No, it was Martin he was always searching for in the morning, Martin who made the breath catch in his throat when they shared a smile across the bullpen.
He returned Elena's smile and rose to his feet. "Food ready?" he said on a hopeful note. He wasn't hungry but he was determined to behave as if he was enjoying himself.
Elena shook her head, her black hair falling in a shimmering cascade over her shoulders. She linked her arm through Danny's and started them moving toward the door.
"Let's take a walk."
Danny hit the brakes. "Now? Elena, it's like thirty degrees outside."
She grabbed his wool coat from the hook near the door and tossed it to him. "It won't be long. Come on."
Reluctantly, Danny pulled on his coat and yanked out the watchman's cap he'd stuffed in the pocket. He opened the door as Elena donned her bright red jacket and preceded him out onto the sidewalk. Once they were on the portion that had been shoveled of two days' accumulation of snow, she once again threaded her arm through his.
"Are you having a good time?" she asked. She nudged him with her body, giggling when it set him off balance.
"Sure," he answered easily.
They walked a few more steps, then Elena stepped in front of Danny, halting their progress and bringing them face to face. She raised a glove-covered finger to his face, running it lightly along his cheek.
"Danny, I want us to try again."
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather traveled down Danny's spine. There was no mistaking Elena's intent. Her eyes were wide and entreating as they gazed back at him, her lips trembling slightly. She was a perfect picture of feminine appeal, beautiful and vulnerable. Hopeful, too, but there was an edge of confidence to that hope that made Danny wary.
With little surprise, Danny realized that he was unmoved. Where he'd once been drawn to her like a bee to honey, those days now had a feeling of unreality to them. There'd been nothing solid between them, only drama and need and the temptation of getting caught up in a moment.
"Elena, I don't—"
Her fingers slipped over his mouth, stilling his words. "Shh, listen. I think we went about it all wrong last time, what with Sophie and Carlos and everything that was going on. Now that some time has passed, I think we can make a life together."
Danny gathered her hand and gently moved it away, holding on until their entwined fingers were swinging between them. The street was quiet and they were alone except for some kids playing in the yard a few door's down, their laughs and yells a comforting soundtrack of a normal life. It reminded him of Martin's description of his family and the football game they'd have if the weather cooperated. His imagination took flight and he could see Martin standing tall amidst a bunch of kids, directing everyone in complicated plays that no one could follow and laughing when it turned into a dog pile with him on the bottom.
The image opened up a pit of yearning inside Danny, followed by a wave of such pain that he nearly lost his breath. He gave Elena's hand a squeeze and released her, then took a step toward the street and closed his eyes so he could order his thoughts. When he turned back to Elena, she was waiting for him with a questioning look on her face. He didn't want to hurt her, but they both deserved more than the comfortable lie she was offering.
He trailed his fingertips along her jaw. "No, Elena. It won't work."
She tilted her head. "No? But we love each other, sí? Isn't that why you came today?"
"I care for you, you know that. But, Elena, I don't love you, not the way you deserve to be loved."
Almond-shaped eyes filled with tears. "But you used to. I know you did. Danny, tell me you didn't fake that!"
"I didn't, I swear. But it wasn't right, Elena. I wanted to protect you and Sophie, I wanted to be there for you. And I still can be, if and when you need me." He lifted his gaze to the sky, frustrated in his inability to articulate what was happening inside of him. "But I need things too," he finished quietly.
Elena was openly crying, her hands reaching toward him. "What, Danny? What? I can give you those things. I can be what you need."
Danny took her hands and held them close to his chest. "No, you can't. And I'm so sorry if you got the wrong idea because I came today. It was a mistake."
Elena pulled her hands away. "A mistake? Is that what I was?"
"Elena—"
"We were so good together, Danny. At least I thought we were."
It was as though she was trying to get Danny to admit that in some way, they belonged together, that their brief past was an indicator that they still had a chance. And while Danny couldn't find it in his to blame her, he felt his resolve strengthening.
"Good together? Maybe, yeah, once. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. Or what I don't feel about you. I don't want to hurt you, but I have to be honest, okay?"
She dashed the tears from her face. "No, Danny. It's not okay. I thought when you agreed to come here for Christmas that you missed us as much as I did. That was my mistake, not yours."
They stood silently for a few minutes, looking away from each other, then Danny cleared his throat.
"I'd better leave. Tell your mom and Sophie goodbye for me?"
"I will." Arms tight across her midsection, Elena seemed to relent. "You don't have to go, you know. It's still Christmas."
Relief, followed quickly by a growing excitement, brought forth a genuine smile. "Thanks, but that's okay."
"What will you do now?"
Thrusting his hands into his coat pocket, Danny's fingers curled around his cell phone. "I think I'm going to go see a friend."
It was like a scene out of a holiday movie, a two-story home dripping with icicle lights and Christmas greenery wrapped in tartan ribbons. Two large wreaths guarded the front doors, obscuring the door bell so well that Danny gave up and finally just rapped his knuckles on the wood. From inside the house he could hear the faint melody of a Christmas carol in between the outraged wails of a child. He was afraid that his knock hadn't been heard, but a shadowy figure appeared through the pebbled glass set in the door's frame.
A young woman with a toddler perched on her hip opened the door.
"Hi!" she said with a bright smile. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, is this the Toland residence?"
"Yes, it is. Is there something I can do for you?"
"No, I'm—is Martin here? Martin Fitzgerald?"
"Marty? Sure, he's around here somewhere." Her eyes widened in recognition. "Are you Danny?"
Surprised, Danny took a step back. "Yes, I guess I am. I work with—"
The woman reached through the doorway and grabbed Danny by the wrist, hauling him inside before he realized what was happening.
"He is going to be so glad you're here! Oh, I'm Jamie, Marty's cousin. Dad! Hey, Dad?"
Jamie headed down a hallway and a bemused Danny followed her, wondering for the hundredth time if this had been a good idea. He was in a house with a group of strangers, crashing their Christmas celebration, all in the hope of beginning something with someone who may not feel the same way.
But the faint flutter of hope that had gotten him this far would not be extinguished. Just getting here had been a test, since once he'd left Elena's he'd realized that he had no idea where exactly Martin was. He knew he could've just called him, but that wasn't in Danny's plan. Words spoken on a cell phone could be be misinterpreted and Danny desperately wanted to see Martin's face, to look him in the eyes and see if there was more between them than brotherly affection. He knew he hadn't imagined the moment in the cooler, after Danny's fall. Despite the chill in the room, there had been heat in Martin's glance, the mere memory of it unspooling a matching thread of warmth deep in Danny's belly.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he stepped into a large kitchen that opened into the family room beyond. There were clusters of people talking and laughing in nearly every corner, many of them with children in their arms or clinging to their legs. Half-empty platters of food seemed to be on every flat surface, and in one corner, a large screen TV was showing some animated Christmas show with the sound muted. It was almost exactly as Martin described, and aside from some curious looks and friendly smiles, no one paid him much attention.
He still felt ill at ease as Jamie spotted her father and motioned for Danny to join them in the one unoccupied area in the kitchen.
"Dad, this is Danny, Marty's friend? The one he invited? Turns out he could make it after all."
The man offered his hand. "Glad you could make it, Danny. I'm Roger, Marty's uncle. We were so disappointed when he said you had to cancel."
Danny shook his hand and tried to hide his reluctance to impose on Martin's family.
"I'm sorry I didn't call ahead," he said. "But my plans changed."
Roger clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, we're just glad you're here. Martin's been moping around all morning, so seeing a friendly face should perk him right up. Do you want something to eat? Maybe a glass of wine?"
Danny held up his hands. "No, no thank you, nothing for me." He scanned the room, but Martin was nowhere to be seen.
"Dad, why don't you take Danny out to the garage? I think Cindy's boys were going to drag Marty out there to look at the boat."
"Oh, yeah, sure." Roger set aside his glass and led Danny through a sliding glass window and into a backyard that even in the dead of winter showed off the loving touch of a serious gardener.
"It's beautiful back here," Danny murmured. "Really nice."
"Thanks." Roger stopped to brush a a pile of leaves off a chair protected by thick green canvas. "My wife, Martin's Aunt Bonnie, loved to garden. The kids keep it up now. Kind of a memorial to her, I guess."
Across the patio was a large, detached garage with a driveway that curled off to the left. The garage had a side entrance and that was where Roger led Danny, turning the handle and pushing the door inward to usher Danny inside.
It was a finished garage, cool and spacious, the rafters above filled with the storage of a busy family. Danny caught glimpses of sports gear and carefully hung dirt bikes among the boxes, but in front of him was a boat that blocked his view of anything else. In the far corner, fluorescent light dissipated into the shadows, and as Danny followed Roger around the boat's prow, he could see it illuminated a large work area.
"Marty?" Roger called out. "Hey, somebody here to see you."
From Danny's vantage behind Roger, he watched as Martin looked up from the work bench where he was bent over something gripped in a metal vise. His mouth automatically curving into a smile, it was obvious that he wasn't expecting anyone other than another family member.
Roger reached behind and guided Danny ahead of him with a hand on his shoulder. Danny shuffled forward, his mouth quirking as he tried to muffle an uncomfortable laugh.
"Hi," he said, simply because he had nothing else to say. He took in Martin's red and green flannel shirt with a hint of white tee shirt peeking through and the unbuttoned sleeves pushed to his elbows, the dark jeans and running shoes, and thought that Martin had never looked so good.
But it was the expression on his face as he stared back at Danny that turned his bones to jelly. He looked so adorably confused that Danny wanted kiss his face there and then, and to hell what Roger or anyone else thought.
"Danny?" Martin looked around for a rag and finding one, quickly wiped his hands. "What are you doing here? You okay?"
Danny nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Hope you don't mind me showing up late."
"No, no, of course not! I'm just surprised, that's all."
Danny pointed at the vise. "What have you got there?"
"Oh, that. Ten minutes after opening the presents the kids have already broken stuff off their toys. I'm just doing a little triage."
"Nice." Danny smiled but it faded as his gaze locked with Martin's. Martin still looked flustered, but he turned to his uncle and shrugged.
"Uh, Roger, can you give us a minute? I think we have some unfinished business from work yesterday."
"Sure, no problem. You boys stay out here as long as you like, but I'm not guaranteeing that there'll be any chocolate pecan pie left when you come in." Roger left after giving Danny another clap on his sore shoulder, but aside from a quick wince on Danny's part, neither he nor Martin moved, even after they heard the door shut.
"Still hurts, huh?" Martin inclined his head toward Danny's injured side.
"Only when I laugh."
Martin directed his swift grin to the cloth still in his hand.
"So, I thought you were at Elena's." Tossing aside the rag, he rested his hips against the work table and crossed his arms over his chest. Danny tried not to imagine that Martin's now composed demeanor was edged in reproach, but there was no denying the protective stance that he'd adopted.
"I was," Danny replied lightly. "But I realized that I'd much rather be here. With you."
"Right." Martin was obviously skeptical. "You left a beautiful woman and her kid on Christmas to come hang out with me?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I did." Danny stepped closer, positioning his body directly in front of Martin, who dropped his casual façade and was beginning to look a little spooked. He swallowed hard, blue eyes widening as Danny braced his hands on the table on either side of Martin's hips.
"Why?"
"Jesus, Martin," Danny whispered, "if you don't know by now, you are in for one hell of a Christmas surprise."
Martin started to reply, but whatever he was going to say was lost as Danny captured his mouth in a gentle kiss. At first Martin didn't react, and Danny felt heart his sink. Then Martin groaned softly, tilting his head so that the slant of their mouths fit together perfectly. Strong hands scrabbled at Danny's waist, latching on to his shirt and dragging him closer. Danny relinquished his hold on the table and wrapped Martin in his arms, the scent, feel and taste of Martin filling up his senses until he was soaring on glorious sensation. This was Martin, kissing him back, growling low in his throat, pushing his way into Danny's embrace as if he needed nothing else in the world. It made Danny dizzy, made him want to shout with joy, made him want to make love to Martin right there, to claim him and never let him go.
The kiss strengthened, changing character as they each became more bold. Martin's tongue dipped aggressively into Danny's mouth and Danny cherished it before chasing it back to Martin's mouth, there to drink in Martin all over again. To be kissing Martin was heaven itself, to have those capable hands holding him steady as Martin's mouth roamed over his cheeks and eyes was indescribably beautiful. The faint odors of motor oil and dust were replaced with the heady scent of Martin's skin, different now than the previous day, sweeter, warmer, a soft echo of aftershave put on hours before. Danny knew that fragrance, had detected it in suit coats casually tossed aside, or leaning over Martin's shoulder at his desk. At night, alone, he sometimes craved the scent like he craved alcohol and wished he had some inkling of what it was, so he'd know its name if he ever had the courage to seek it out and pretend that placing a dot of it on his wrist was bringing Martin closer.
But a bottled scent could never match the alchemy of Martin's sweat and skin and heat, and craving exploded into blazing need. Danny was desperate to be closer, oblivious to their surroundings, caught up in the whole-hearted enthusiasm of Martin's response. But it was as he was insinuating his fingers between Martin's tee-shirt shirt and the edge of his jeans that Martin placed his hands on Danny's shoulders and backed away.
It was a slight movement, no more than an inch, with Martin's grip remaining reassuringly firm. To Danny it was far too soon to face the consequences. He slid his hands upward until Martin's ears were cradled in his palms. Eyes tightly shut, he pressed his cheek to Martin's and began a whispered plea.
"No, no, don't say anything. Not yet, okay? This is so—I really just need a minute."
Holding his head still within Danny's clasp, Martin's response was tinged with gentle humor. "Afraid I'm going somewhere?"
Disconcerted to hear his barely formed fear so baldly stated, Danny tried to turn his face away, but Martin wasn't going to allow it. With two fingertips pressed to Danny's jaw, he forced Danny's eyes to meet his.
"Relax, Danny." The lines around Martin's eyes deepened, crinkling into that non-smile the Danny loved. "You and I aren't just a crazy moment in my uncle's garage. I cannot believe the guts it took for you to show up today, but you're here and I'm sure as hell not letting you go."
"Martin, I—"
"Aw, Danny, shut up."
Martin kissed him, a kiss of comfort and promise that reached into Danny's core and filled it with warmth. It was more than happiness that Danny felt, far more than relief. As he fervently returned the kiss, at once and briefly at a loss for words, he realized that he'd never met this Martin Fitzgerald, this sweetly possessive lover, and yet had fallen in love with him anyway.
Eventually they emerged, both of them flushed, their breath dissolving into little pants of silent laughter as they untangled from their tight embrace. Martin's expression was sheepish, a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, and Danny was entranced. He rubbed his hand over Martin's short hair and guided his head onto Danny's good shoulder, and he could feel the muscles in Martin's back loosen up as they both began to settle into the reality of what was happening. They had so much to talk about, but Danny knew that this moment of quiet was as important as the passion that had swept through them moments before. If it was love that they had to look forward to, it was their battered, sometimes patched-together yet abiding friendship that had laid the foundation for what was to come.
Martin straightened up and stroked Danny's nose with the edge of his finger. "All right, since you're the brave one, what do we do next?"
Too overwhelmed for a reasonable answer, Danny took refuge in humor. "Are you kidding me? Honestly, I don't remember much after your uncle mentioned chocolate pecan pie."
Martin ruffled Danny's hair, a gesture that Danny normally wouldn't appreciate but found charming when Martin did it. "Okay, after we load up on too much sugar and caffeine and my family asks you all kinds of inappropriate questions, then what do we do?"
"Oh, then." Danny shrugged. "Then we improvise."
"So how did you find me, anyway?"
It was early afternoon and things had quieted down. A lot of the family members with younger kids had left, leaving adults and the older teens hanging out, playing video games and chatting over coffee. Danny and Martin had come back from the garage in time to line up for a hastily thrown together lunch buffet and had volunteered to do some of the cleanup afterward. They were currently alone in the kitchen, trying valiantly to make order out of chaos, working companionably despite a growing sense of tingling awareness rising between them.
Danny stacked a dry dish on the counter. "I don't think I want to tell you."
Martin grinned at him and handed him another dish. "That sounds interesting. What did you do, call the office and have them put out an APB on me?"
Danny could feel his cheeks warm and seeing the telltale blush, Martin's eyes widened.
"Tell me you didn't."
"I didn't. At least not the APB part."
Martin took the dish towel in his hands and snapped it lightly in Danny's direction. "Talk, Taylor."
Danny held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. See, first, I had to call Sam, since she's been here before and she knew the name of your uncle."
The towel, primed for another swipe, went limp. "You called Sam?"
"Uh, yeah, so then I did call the office, but only because I was in my car and not near a computer so I couldn't look online myself. They gave me the address and directions and here I am."
Danny ended on a note of bravado, but he was watching Martin closely. He hadn't been too sure how Martin was going to react to having Sam involved. But after his initial shock, Martin remained relaxed, reaching for dirty glasses to load in the dishwasher.
"Why didn't you just call me? I could've given you directions."
Danny slid open several drawers until he found a spoon to scoop leftovers into a clean dish. "Because I wasn't too sure of my reception, to be honest. Pretty rude of me to cancel after saying I'd go with you."
Martin's shoulder lifted in a half shrug that told Danny that his instinct had been correct – Martin would've been polite and told him not to bother. It reminded Danny how close he'd come to screwing things up beyond repair, and he deliberately stepped across the kitchen floor and stood near Martin.
"What did you tell her?" Martin asked. The fleeting appearance of his dimple went a long way to alleviating the remainder of Danny's doubts. He lowered his voice so that only Martin could hear him, keeping his head down, his eyes focused on the spoon in his hand.
"That the only thing I wanted for Christmas was to make love to you."
The crashing of the glass on the tile floor brought everyone's head around and a few people took a step or two toward the kitchen, but Martin waved them off.
"It's okay, I got it. Danny, you wanna give me a hand here?"
Between the two of them they cleaned up the shards of glass and disposed of them. Danny couldn't read Martin's expression—he didn't seem angry, but he was completely intent on sweeping up the broken glass. Once that was accomplished, even though the kitchen still needed some attention, Martin called out to his uncle.
"Hey, Roger? Danny and I are gonna take off so we can beat the traffic back to the city."
"Aw, okay." Roger joined them and shook hands with Danny. "It was nice to meet you, Danny. I know Martin was disappointed when your plans changed, so it was great you could still make it. Come back anytime."
As soon as the front door closed behind them, Martin herded Danny into a secluded corner of the porch, ignoring all the unwritten rules about personal space. Danny went easily, not even bothering to put on a show of reluctance. He crossed his arms over his chest, defiance in every line of his body even though he trusted Martin to see through the false front, just as he saw through Martin's fake annoyance.
"Let's try this again. What did you say to Sam?" Martin spoke quietly, his menacing tone completely undermined by the gentle tug of his fingers on the shirt button at Danny's belly.
"I told her," Danny said with a tiny smirk, "that I had picked up your cell phone by mistake and that if I could call your uncle, I could arrange to get it to you."
"Oh, you're good."
"Yes, I am."
Martin leaned toward Danny and Danny tensed, his need for Martin flaring so brightly that he feared Martin would be scorched by his proximity. Just before their mouths met, a clatter at the door announced another family member's exit and they separated, leaving Danny physically aching. Martin said goodbye to whoever it was and then turned to Danny, shrugging apologetically.
"Okay, so my uncle's front porch isn't the best place to conduct this conversation. Any ideas?"
Hands on his hips, Danny hesitated. They both had vehicles parked on the street, and the thought of arranging to go anywhere separately scared him. He wanted to keep Martin close by, in his sight, because until he had Martin in his arms again, he couldn't be sure this was truly happening.
Martin seemed to be as frustrated as Danny, but suddenly his face cleared.
"Hang on a minute." Martin reached for the door handle. "Be right back."
Even in the few minutes that Martin was gone, Danny began to worry. He had enough time to pace the length of the porch almost three times before Martin reappeared, a broad smile on his face.
"Check it out." Martin tossed Danny a keyring with two keys attached. "You up for a drive?"
"A drive? Where?"
"Connecticut."
They took Martin's car, since it was recognizable to his family and he didn't want anyone wondering where he'd gone without it, pausing long enough for Danny to grab his weapon and a jacket out of his trunk. As Martin drove through light snow flurries toward the state line, he told Danny about the little cabin his uncle owned on a private lake where he and his cousins had spent part of their summer vacations every year. When Danny asked what excuse Martin used to get the keys, Martin confided that he told Roger that he hoped to spend some time there before New Year's, if the cabin wasn't occupied.
"And he believed that?"
Martin nodded. "It was the truth, more or less, right? The cabin's kind of like community property, anyone can use it if it's empty. You have to put in your request early if you want to stay there in the summer, but everyone's too busy around the holidays to get away."
"Lucky for us," Danny murmured. He turned to stare out the window at the passing countryside, wondering once again if agreeing to this was a good idea.
It wasn't that he didn't want to be with alone with Martin, but with Martin pursuing the same objective with such determination, Danny's never quite silent voice of self-doubt was beginning to undermine his confidence. He'd daydreamed about kissing Martin, about laying down with him and making him feel good, but Martin's reciprocation was a place he'd rarely allowed his imagination to roam—because it was a place he'd never actually been.
And just how was he going to tell Martin he'd never slept with a guy before? Bravado, and desire, and that reckless heart that had always been Danny's weakness—those were the qualities that had gotten him this far, but soon there would be no secrets between them, and of all things Danny could withstand, Martin's disappointment in him was not one of them.
Martin seemed oblivious to Danny's growing reticence and chatted unconcernedly on the hour-long drive to the lake. One of his reasons he'd convinced Danny to go was the proximity of the cabin; they both had to be at work the next day and so couldn't go too far afield. But going somewhere that Martin knew intimately felt like they weren't going to be on neutral ground, that it gave some kind of advantage to Martin. Danny, already unbalanced, found himself wishing there had been some other solution.
The sudden change to rough road jerked Danny out of his reverie. He straightened in his seat just as Martin pulled up in front of a small grocery store. It was a clapboard and whitewashed building, barely more than a shack, complete with a sagging porch and Coca-Cola signs straight out of the fifties, missing only a slack-jowled hound asleep by a rocker to complete the image.
"How did we end up in Mayberry?" Danny muttered. "Forget that, this is the Twilight Zone. What two-bit grocery story is open on Christmas?"
"Harry's is open three hundred and sixty five days a year. Only closes for baptisms and funerals."
"Not for weddings?"
"Harry doesn't believe in them." Martin grinned at him as he unbuckled his seat belt. "Look, there isn't any food left up there after October because of the mice, so let's grab something before we head to the lake."
The inside of the grocery store was only marginally more modern than its exterior. Martin moved through the aisles with ease, the handles of a metal basket looped over one arm. Danny wandered around the front of the store until the scrutiny of the less than friendly old man behind the counter convinced him to either go outside and back into the cold or deeper into the store to see what Martin had found.
He chose to stay warm. Martin had moved far enough away that Danny took his time, idly walking down an aisle that seemed to be mostly about personal items. Neatly stacked rows of overpriced deodorants and shampoos gave way to baby products and dog food, until finally Danny found himself standing in front of one small corner that held products that Danny figured he could really use, if he had the courage to buy them.
It wasn't that he was innocent—some discreet research and his own imagination had gotten him far enough to know what he would enjoy pretty damn much anything he and Martin decided to do—but the practical aspects of intimacy with Martin were sending alternating streams of heat and ice through his veins. Twice he reached toward the shelves and twice he lowered his hand, wishing he knew exactly what Martin was expecting out of this night. Were they just getting some privacy to talk, or maybe to kiss? To make love? Would it seem pushy if Danny somehow magically produced a condom—or anything else? Or would Martin appreciate the forethought?
"Danny? C'mon, man, let's get out of here."
Martin's voice cut through his fog of indecision and Danny walked away empty-handed. Martin was already paying and Danny hastened to join him, his thoughts in such disarray that he didn't even bother to check out what Martin had purchased.
He held the door open and let Martin walk through. "I'll pay you for half later."
"Forget it." Martin put the bags in the space behind the car's back seat, then turned to Danny with smile that weakened his knees and put a lump in his throat. "You can buy breakfast."
Silence reigned over the remainder of the drive, a white-knuckled five minutes down an icy road that bent sharply at the end to reveal a modest A-framed cabin beside a small lake. Danny left Martin to open up the cabin while he walked a few steps down a dirt path that led to a sturdy dock. It was almost dark and snowing lightly and his view of the lake was obscured, but he was reluctant to join Martin, the twin burdens of high expectations and lack of confidence making his stomach roil.
When he finally did follow Martin inside, he immediately started to relax. The cabin was cozy and informal, glowing softly with lamps that Martin had turned on as he moved around the large room. The main space served as kitchen, dining area and living room, and Martin pointed out that the doors that led to the bathroom and the downstairs bedroom. Danny noticed that Martin had removed his shoes and he did so as well, placing them beside Martin's near the door.
"Listen," Martin said, "I've started up the furnace but it'll take a while to warm up the place, so do me a favor and light the fire."
Danny stared at the pile of logs and newspapers already arranged in the fireplace.
"Uh, Martin? Where's the switch?"
Martin nailed him with a scornful glance. "Welcome to the wilds of Connecticut, city boy. There should be a box of long matches on the hearth."
"Oh, matches, sure. We're doing this old school, got it."
The fire started easily as Martin kept busy putting things away. Danny was becoming increasingly aware that the atmosphere between them was changing once more. Gone was Martin's cheerful commentary and as Danny wandered around the living room, he found himself searching for something to say to fill the quiet. He ran his fingers along the back edge of a leather chair and picked up a magazine, only to set it down without reading it.
"You know, when I was a kid, I dreamed about places like this. Places to go with your family, hang out with other kids, stuff like that."
Martin moved around the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and handed Danny a bottle of water. "You don't talk about your childhood much, but from what you have said, it doesn't sound like it was easy."
Danny twisted the top off the bottle and shrugged. "It had its moments, good and bad."
"You lost your parents when you were pretty young, right?" Martin gestured toward the suede couch beside them and they sat down, Martin curling his leg beneath him so that his body was angled toward Danny.
"Yeah. After that it was relatives and foster homes until I finally just left the system altogether. Rafi was in and out, mostly out, but when he was around, at least he was family."
"Family that took you out on drug drops." There was no reproof in Martin's voice and Danny didn't take offense.
"I'm not excusing him for what he did, but my dad did a real number on Rafi when I was pretty young. I guess Rafi did what he felt he had to do to survive." Danny took a swallow of water and leaned back into the couch. It was deep enough for him to be fully supported, the fabric soft and shiny with wear, inviting him to relax when it was the last thing he felt capable of achieving.
Nothing was said for a few moments until Danny set his bottle aside and shifted to face Martin.
"What are we doing here?"
Martin looked up from contemplating the bottle in his hand, startled at blunt question. "What?"
Danny waved his hand, indicating the cabin. "Here. What are we doing here, talking about anything but what we really need to be talking about?"
"I'm sorry. I knew this was a bad idea."
To Danny's consternation, Martin flushed and looked away. When he started to rise from the couch, Danny grabbed him by the arm. Martin fell back and stared at Danny, and that's when Danny realized that Martin was as scared as he was.
"Damn it, Martin, don't run away from me now."
"I'm not—" Martin stuttered, then stopped. "Hell, Danny," he continued with a broken chuckle, "I don't want to mess this up but I have no idea what to do next."
"What do you want to do?" Danny whispered. He hadn't released his grip on Martin's arm.
"I don't know," Martin rasped. "No, wait, that's a lie." He swallowed visibly. "I want—I want to kiss you again. Is that okay?"
Danny didn't know whether to shout or cry. Martin was looking at him like he had all the answers, his brow furrowed with worry as his eyes roamed almost desperately over Danny's face. Seeing all that trust coming at him from a man who'd normally have no trouble taking control of a situation humbled Danny and broke through his own paralysis. Martin needed him, and he wasn't going to fail.
Still, it was important to Danny that Martin make the next move. They had to be equal partners and until Martin showed him that this was what he truly wanted, Danny knew they couldn't move forward. Scooting across the couch until their knees collided, Danny took Martin's water bottle and set it aside along with his own. Then he gathered Martin's tight fingers with his own and rubbed at the knuckles until the tension eased.
"It's more than okay, " he said. "Go for it."
Keeping his grip on one of Danny's hands, Martin lifted his fingers to Danny's shoulder and rested it there. His movements were jerky and hesitant, and Danny found it endearing that Martin, who was probably captain of every sports team he was ever on, was uncoordinated when he was nervous. He held still, letting his eyes tell Martin that he was doing fine, until a light tug on his shoulder urged him forward.
It wasn't comfortable. Their knees and thighs were shoved together on soft cushions that dipped inward, and since Martin didn't seem inclined to let go of the hand he'd captured, Danny had to lean forward from the waist. He went only so far, keeping his body and head straight, watching with his breath trapped in his chest as Martin tilted his head and pressed their lips together in a kiss that was almost chaste, until Martin took Danny's lower lip into his mouth gave it a gentle suck that set off fireworks all the way down to Danny's toes.
Danny reached out blindly with his free hand and caught at the open fold of Martin's flannel shirt. It was all he could do to hold on as Martin released his shoulder and threaded his fingers through Danny's hair, the easy pressure instructing Danny to turn his head just so that Martin could kiss the other side of his mouth. Danny opened to him completely and was rewarded with Martin's tongue, first a gentle, inquisitive swipe, then a bold foray that teased the roof of Danny's mouth and drew a moan from his throat that he regretted instantly when Martin backed off.
"Sorry," Martin fretted, "was that—"
Danny unlinked their joined hands and released Martin's shirt. Before Martin could take that as another sign to stop, Danny cradled Martin's face between his palms and forced him meet his gaze.
"Amazing, that's what that was." Danny nuzzled Martin's cheek, right where that elusive dimple made its appearance. "Do it again, if you want to."
A breath of a laugh teased Danny's ear. "Oh, yeah, I want to."
They kissed again, both men gaining confidence as each caress was met with overwhelming approval. Martin was the first to become impatient with the barrier of clothing and started working loose the buttons of Danny's shirt. Danny was almost too busy discovering the soft skin behind Martin's ear to notice, until he became aware of Martin's hands sweeping over his ribcage, his thumbs tripping lightly over Danny's nipples. Even though he was still wearing a cotton tee shirt, the sensation ripped through him and the languid arousal that had been building inside flared higher. He rested his forehead on Martin's shoulder and breathed deeply, soothed by the strong strokes of Martin's hands on his back.
"Martin." Danny raised his head. "This isn't talking and in about two seconds I'm going to forget how to speak altogether. So I have to tell you, we need to put on the brakes here if talking is what you think we need to do."
Before answering, Martin brushed his lips over Danny's. "I think I'm about two seconds ahead of you." He took Danny's hands by the wrist and guided it to his own thigh, high on his leg where the fabric of his jeans creased toward the center seam. Moistening his lips, eyes locked with Martin's, Danny slid his fingers inward, where the warmth of Martin's skin beneath the denim intensified. The pace of Martin's breathing increased when Danny simultaneously rotated and lowered his hand, effectively cupping Martin in his palm. When he ran the ball of his thumb down the copper edge of the zipper, he felt rather than heard the muffled groan that had Martin biting his lower lip to fight back.
Fascinated by the view of his hand cradling Martin's covered but still vulnerable flesh, he was almost surprised when Martin dipped his head to steal a kiss. The simple pleasure of Martin's mouth once again on his made his fingers curl in pleasure, slipping deeper between Martin's thighs in the process.
Martin tore his mouth away. "Oh, Jesus, Danny," he panted, eyes fluttering until they closed.
Delirious power rushed through Danny's veins. Martin was shifting his body, inviting Danny's hand to further explorations, and Danny's fingers searched out and pressed against the firm and unmistakable curve of flesh trapped against Martin's thigh. The shudder that pulsed through Martin found its mate in Danny and he knew right then that this was going to be right, and good, and so beautiful.
But groping on the couch wasn't going to be enough, not even close. Danny wanted Martin naked and writhing beneath him, the details fuzzy but the intent tightening Danny's body unbearably. With a deep breath, Danny released his hand and lifted it to Martin's jaw. Martin's eyes were wide and shining, his expression so brilliant with yearning that Danny's heart skipped a beat.
"Martin." Danny brought Martin's hand to his mouth and placed a kiss in its palm. His next words were rushed. "I want to make love to you so badly but I've never been with a guy before. I need to know—is that going to be a problem?"
Martin bit his lower lip and looked at their clasped hands. "Wow, confession time, okay." Another swallow, followed by a crooked smile. "I'm gay, but I've fought that reality that for years. I swear to God, you're the only one I've trusted enough to open that closet door in a very long time."
"Trust?" Danny asked carefully. He wasn't sure what Martin was trying to tell him. "Is that all there is?"
"Oh, no, no." Martin seemed to sense Danny's uncertainty and moved closer. He held Danny's face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over his cheeks. "There's so much more I can't even begin to tell you. Maybe some day I'll find all the right things to say but hear me out now, okay?"
Danny nodded. It looked as though they were going to talk anyway, but Danny he needed Martin's words right now, more than he needed Martin's body. He needed to know that Martin wanted Danny, not some experience that would clear up years of doubt and confusion.
"You say you haven't slept with a guy." Martin's cheeks pinkened but his gaze was steady. "I'm not sorry and I don't want you to be, either. See, the only real relationship I had with a man, it was about seven years ago, and it—it wasn't a good time."
Danny swallowed and retook Martin's hand in his. "Seven years? Right before you joined us?"
Martin nodded, his gaze on Danny's thumb as it brushed against the skin of his palm. "I won't bore you with the details, but it was great at first, you know? It was freedom, like a drug, like I'd been waiting forever to finally live the way I was supposed to live. And for about five months, I was the happiest I'd ever been in my life."
Knowing it was foolish, Danny couldn't fight the sting of jealousy that some other man had made Martin happy, had been the recipient of all those slant-eyed looks of mischief and teasing remarks that made Danny's days brighter. "What happened after those five months?"
Martin's lips tightened, the way they did when he was trying to force a smile around a twist of pain. "He went straight."
"He what?"
"Went straight. That was how he put it, anyway. Came to me one day and told me that he'd met a woman and that we were over. He, uh, he also told me that he wasn't really gay. He'd just been bored."
The pink in Martin's cheeks darkened and the jealousy in the pit of Danny's stomach soured into a burning anger at this unnamed son of a bitch who'd used Martin that way.
"Martin—"
Martin tightened his grip on Danny's hand. "No, no, it's okay, it's old news, and he was more screwed up than I was after we broke up. And in a weird, backward way I have a lot to thank him for."
"Yeah? How so?"
Martin grinned as he reached over and stroked a fingertip down Danny's nose. "Because if he hadn't been such a jerk, I'd never have applied for the New York position and met this smart ass, half-crazy, sexy as hell Danny Taylor character who pissed me off every chance he got from day one."
Pretending to take offense, Danny tilted his head. "Yeah? I seem to remember that whole pissing off thing going both ways."
The skin around Martin's eyes crinkled, an obvious retort ready. Then his mouth softened as he ran his hand over Danny's head in a gentle benediction, guiding him forward so he could place a kiss against the side of Danny's head. "God, Danny, that's why I'm so fucking glad, because you are so worth waiting for. There's a hell of a lot of things I've regretted in my life, but waiting for you will never be one of them. And if you feel about me even half of what I feel about you, then I've got to be the luckiest damn man in the world right now."
And that was it for Danny. It was all he needed to hear or know, as Martin's quietly spoken vow found its resonance in the swiftly beating rhythm of Danny's heart. He rose to his feet and offered Martin his hand.
"Let me show you how I feel," he pleaded. "Come with me now."
Martin hesitated, then allowed Danny to pull him up. Danny kept possession of his hand as he walked them toward the bedroom door, stopping when Martin pulled up and squeezed his fingers.
"I don't know what we're going to find in there," Martin said with a nervous laugh that charmed away Danny's instant fear that Martin was calling a halt.
He used his free hand to slide a knuckle across Martin's cheek. "Me either, but I sure as hell am looking forward to finding out."
"Not that." Martin shook his head and pulled Danny into a loose hug. "I meant the bedroom. The furnace hasn't much of a chance to kick in, so it could be freezing in there."
Danny returned the embrace, turning his head to whisper in Martin's ear. "Not for long, mi amor. Not for long."
The room had been warmed enough to be comfortable and the bed was neatly made. Martin found a lamp on one bedside table and turned it on, its amber light carving the simply furnished room into stark shadows. Unwilling to be parted from Martin, Danny crowded up against him, locking his hands on Martin's hips and guiding them both until Martin's shoulders hit the paneled wall. They kissed deeply, a wilder, wetter kiss than they'd shared so far, as both men began loosening the grip they'd held on their desire. Martin pushed Danny's already unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, then grumbled playfully when the buttoned cuffs stopped his progress. Danny shoved his thumb into the slit of each cuff and stripped the off buttons, then shrugged off the shirt and let it fall to the floor.
Martin was kissing him again, nipping at his jaw, running his hands through his hair and yanking his tee shirt out of his jeans. Broad palms spread heat over his lower back and Danny moaned but even as his body thrummed with growing excitement, he was rapidly becoming obsessed with the removal of Martin's clothes and the discoveries that lay beneath them.
It wasn't an easy task. Martin seemed intent on driving Danny crazy with his mouth and tongue, and a tiny part of Danny's mind was surprised that white bread Martin Fitzgerald was one hell of a nasty kisser. But the rest of his attention was centered on revealing Martin's skin, and when Martin was finally naked to the waist, Danny realized not even that was enough. Before he could act on the hazy thought half-formed in his mind—that of taking the rest of his life to explore every inch of Martin's body—he felt his own tee shirt stripped over his head.
Desire and impatience slowed them down as they fumbled at each other's belts and zippers. They shared murmured encouragements studded with breathless laughter, a stumbling, sometimes awkward but urgent dance until they realized that only the person wearing the jeans could remove them without falling over. It was a measure of their sense of beginning this adventure together that they could steal kisses from each other as they went, impulsive reassurances that eased them both onto the bed. They tacitly agreed to retain their underwear, silently sharing the understanding that they needed to save that last step.
With deft touches and searing kisses, Danny maneuvered Martin crossways on the bed. The heat building in his groin was more painfully exquisite than any desire he'd felt before, piercing deeper into his veins with every shared caress. Long acquainted with the art of making love, he was unprepared for the sharp edge to the hunger that drove his need for Martin. Beneath his hands, Martin's body was firm and responsive, flinching only when Danny brushed his fingertips over the scars on his chest and abdomen. Silently asking forgiveness with kisses whispered across the marred flesh, Danny moved on, pressing down hard on the growing necessity to possess Martin, to sink himself into the tautly structured, beloved body that strained against him with insistent needs of its own.
Yet even in his fevered state, Danny conceded that some things would have to wait, despite the myriad fantasies flying through his head. Martin was an inventive and generous kisser as his hands roamed over Danny's bare chest, across his ribs, tracing patterns over the small of his back. There was toughness in those hands, but tenderness, too, and Danny had just enough coherency left to appreciate the distinction. Then Martin hooked his thumb into the waistband of Danny's shorts to slide them down off one hip, and subtlety was no longer an issue.
With a flex of quivering muscles, he pushed Martin's knee flat and rolled on top of him. Martin parted his long legs and Danny settled between them, resulting in the first deeply intimate contact that wrung astonished moans from them both. Strong fingers again scrabbled at Danny's shorts, shoving them down to his thighs, and Danny thought he'd never felt anything so glorious as the rough surface of Martin's palms cupping him tightly, fingertips fluttering where they met at the base of Danny's spine.
He raised his head and looked down into Martin's eyes. Martin looked as wildly desperate as Danny felt as he thrust upwards, his hands sliding up Danny's back to clutch at his shoulders. Only the thin cotton of Martin's shorts separated them and after sharing another explosive kiss, Danny pulled his body down. He grabbed the elastic waistband and lifted the fabric away from Martin's hips, quickly stripping the shorts off of Martin's legs. Martin began to sit up but Danny placed his hand squarely on his chest and with a shake of his head indicated that he wanted Martin to remain down. After fumbling to remove his own underwear, Danny eased Martin's legs apart again and knelt between them, rubbing his hands over the lightly furred surface of Martin's muscled thighs.
Martin had been transfigured into a vision straight from Danny's darkest imaginings. The dull yellow light reflected in the sheen of sweat on Martin's smooth chest, now rising and falling in rapid sequence. Hands clenched in the bedspread beneath him, his lower lip trapped between his teeth, he was looking up at Danny with an intoxicating mixture of trust and desire. Danny smiled at him and watched as Martin's expression altered, eyes widening as he discerned what Danny intended to do.
"Danny," his voice broke on the word, "you don't have to—"
Danny quieted him with a kiss to the inner curve of his knee. "Shhh, mi amor." Forsaking his goal for a moment, he positioned his body over Martin's, hands curled into fists bracketing the broad shoulders, knees snug against the smooth skin of Martin's hips. He was careful to keep his own hips lifted high enough so that they didn't touch, the effort straining the tendons in his arms. Martin slung his arms around Danny's neck and tried to pull him closer, but Danny resisted.
"Martin," he said, his voice a throaty purr, "do not think for a single minute that I'm not going to make love to you in every way possible." He dipped the lower half of his body briefly, wringing another moan from Martin. "Not this time, maybe not the next, but soon you are going to feel me hard inside you, a part of your body, and then you will do the same to me."
He ducked his head and licked a path along Martin's stubble-roughened jaw. "But not yet, not tonight." Biting lightly at Martin's earlobe, he whispered, "Tonight is about learning and trust, and you are so beautiful, and I need to learn what you taste like."
It didn't take courage or even a conscious thought. The idea of performing this particularly intimate caress on Martin had become an obsession ever since he'd run his fingers along the rigid flesh beneath Martin's jeans. Now with Martin beneath him as he'd dreamed, his flushed erection high and tight against his abdomen, Danny let instinct and love take over.
Tracing Martin's length with his tongue, Danny began an assault of unwavering erotic torture, taking his time to memorize taste and texture. He recalled what he liked and used that knowledge to drive Martin crazy, as evidenced by Martin's fists pounding uselessly into the soft bed beneath them. The jostling was distracting, and Danny paused long enough to grab Martin's hands and entwine their fingers together, giving them both the anchor they needed. Then he returned to his self-appointed task, thrilled to hear the sweetly vulnerable sound of his own name mixed in with Martin's hoarsely voiced pleas and uncharacteristically graphic words.
For Danny, it all happened too quickly. He knew he was clumsy but in light of Martin's wholehearted response, he allowed himself to lose his inhibitions and take Martin deeper than he'd thought he could manage. He'd never felt so defenseless and yet so incredibly powerful, and his disappointment was ravaging when Martin untangled their hands to push Danny away as his body began curving into the oncoming pleasure. Danny, his own release thundering down on him, flung himself onto the bed beside Martin and gathered him close, their bodies aligning with instinctive perfection. A few uncoordinated thrusts, the rasp of fingernails scraping along straining back muscles and unyielding flanks, and Danny felt Martin go rigid. Scalding moisture spread along his hip as Martin shuddered against him, his mouth searching out Danny's for a devastating kiss. Caught up in his own storm, his hold on his emotions forever breached by the man now gripping him tightly enough to bruise, Danny bucked against Martin's slick skin and let out a throat-scraping groan to signal his own completion.
For long, breath-catching moments they lay wrapped around each other, sharing one pillow, wringing out the last flutters of bliss that trickled across their nerves. Danny buried his face in the warm shelter of Martin's neck, lapping at the salt-tinged skin, greedily inhaling the scent of sweat and sex and Martin Fitzgerald. In turn he was gathered closer, enveloped by Martin's all-consuming embrace, soothed by sweet words and soft kisses that Martin dropped with gentle precision into the curve his ear.
Sooner than he wanted, the warm cocoon that Martin had created was taken away. Danny protested with a drowsy murmur as Martin withdrew his arms and sat up, although he didn't leave the bed. Instead, Danny, who kept his eyes closed in a stubborn rebuttal to a reality he wasn't ready to face, found himself rolling into Martin's side as Martin reached across him and yanked the other pillow from the far side of the bed. Peeling open one eye, he watched as Martin stripped away the cotton pillowcase and tossed the pillow away. Curious, he was about to ask what Martin was doing when Martin made his intentions clear by folding the pillowcase and beginning to gently blot away the sticky residue gathered on Danny's hip and thighs.
Danny closed his eyes again, unable to bear the expression of tender concentration on Martin's face. It was an act of intimacy that shook Danny unexpectedly, having never thought out some of the more practical aspects of making love with a man. It was somehow even more intimate than what they'd shared in the heat of passion, and he longed to find some way to reciprocate, to show Martin that he was eager to share everything.
Another shift on the bed beside him and Martin was pulling him back into his arms, arranging Danny's limbs to his satisfaction until Danny was once again surrounded. He'd never felt so cherished, so treasured, a sensation he'd always been sure to impart to his lovers but had rarely experienced himself. He was also more sexually replete than he could remember, and the knowledge that he'd reached that state with Martin barely touching him brought a lazy smile to his face. Martin must have felt the delicate movement against the skin of his shoulder, because he leaned back from Danny and combed his fingers through the damp strands of hair at his temple.
"What are you smiling about?" he murmured, a matching smile tugging at his lips.
Danny nestled his forehead into the curve of Martin's throat as he draped his leg over Martin's thigh. "I was just thinking."
"Mmm, God help us all," Martin muttered. "Ow! Watch what you're poking there."
"I was thinking that next time, you need to let me finish what I started."
Martin laid his palm on Danny's cheek and scooted closer until their noses touched. "Next time, it'll by my turn."
"Oh, yeah?" Danny pressed his mouth to Martin's in a fleeting caress. "I guess I could handle that."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you could. Not so sure you could handle anything else, first time out of the gate."
Danny pulled back and tucked his elbow beneath him so he could sit up. Martin was staring steadfastly at a crease in the pillow, his hand resting lightly on Danny's hip.
"Oh, Martin," he whispered, "you still don't have a clue, do you."
Martin looked up at that, the veil of his lashes lifting to reveal uncertainty mixed with burgeoning hope.
"About?"
The words blazed inside Danny's head, tumbling to his lips, his breath indrawn to speak the truth—and then he stopped. That Martin cared for him was incontrovertible, and that he wanted Danny as his lover was in no doubt. But was there a future for them, the kind of future that Danny longed to have with Martin? A future that included a life together in spite of the FBI, and a life together beyond it. A future that they could count on, the happy ending that Danny now realized could only be found in Martin's arms. But laying together, skin to skin, both of them raw from the experience they'd just shared, an unwary, unsolicited confession could strip away the tenderness and replace it with awkward silence.
Instead of the poignant admission that was begging to be released, Danny offered Martin a lighthearted smile.
"About it being your turn next time. Tell you what, I'll flip you for it."
A shadow drifted across Martin's face, though he covered it with a comic scowl. "I've got another idea, so you—wait, do you hear that?"
"Oh, God, I do."
Heaving a sigh, Danny climbed off the bed, unsurprised when Martin did the same. The sound was the faint, unmistakable chirp of Danny's cell phone, ringing from his jacket where it hung on a stool in the kitchen. Danny skidded into the front room and grabbed the jacket, shoving his hand into its pocket and pulling out the phone.
Before he'd even looked at the I.D. of the caller, he knew it was going to be Jack. Stomach churning with the familiar rush of adrenaline, he lifted the phone to his ear.
"Taylor."
"Where are you?"
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Jack."
"Yeah, sorry. Merry Christmas. Are you in the city?"
Starting to reply, Danny was distracted when Martin came up behind him and draped a thick blanket over his shoulders. Martin started to move away, but Danny held him back with a touch on his hand. When Martin paused, Danny pressed a swift kiss to his mouth. They stared at each other for a moment, until Jack's voice broke through.
"Danny? You still there? I swear to God, this damn phone, I—"
"Jack, yeah, yeah, sorry. No, I'm not at home. What's going on?"
Jack sighed. "Okay, wherever you are, stay put. In case you haven't been watching the news, everything south of Harlem is iced over and unless you can get here by subway or sled dog, don't bother trying to come in tomorrow. I don't need you splattered over a sidewalk somewhere."
Danny caught Martin's glance and rolled his eyes. "Gee, Jack, I didn't know you cared."
"Very funny. Listen, do you know if Martin stayed in town?"
"Martin? No, he went to his uncle's, I think."
Martin, wrapped in a blanket of his own, looked up from the refrigerator where he'd been rummaging as Danny spoke his name. He raised his eyebrows and Danny gave him a thumb's up.
"Great. Just my luck, you people actually have lives." There was another annoyed sigh before Jack continued. "Okay, I guess tomorrow's a loss. Now I gotta call Martin and Sam and give them the bad news. Or is it good news? Hell, I'm too tired to decide."
"Hey, I'll call Martin," Danny interjected.
"Yeah? Why? It's nearly midnight, and if he's not sleeping, he may be doing something else that he doesn't want to have interrupted. Meaning he's gonna be pissed."
Danny bit his lip as he tried not to laugh. "Well, I haven't pissed him off since he lost a bet to me a couple of days ago, so I think I'm due. I'll call him now."
"Okay, thanks. See you Thursday."
Clutching the phone, Danny raised his eyes and pumped his fists toward the ceiling. "Yes!"
Martin set a pair of plates on the counter. "What happened? And for the record, I was maybe ten minutes away from cracking that math problem."
"Sure you were, Einstein. Get this—apparently the city's covered in ice and the roads are so bad, Jack doesn't want us coming in until they're cleared up."
"Jack? Our Jack Malone just told us to take an extra day off?" Martin started stacking slices of bread on a paper towel. "The miracles of the season never cease, do they. Mustard and mayo, right?"
Danny hopped onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter. "Did you get some American cheese, too?"
Martin slipped the blanket off his shoulders and wrapped it around his hips, knotting the corners to secure it. "Yes, I did, you heathen. That crap is disgusting."
"Oh, like the stuff you eat on a regular basis isn't clogging your arteries, so don't give me any grief about what I eat."
Although the intimacy inherent in the aftermath of lovemaking had been lost, Danny found that chatting with Martin while he assembled their late night snack filled the atmosphere with a cozy vibe all its own. He hadn't even noticed that he was hungry until Martin had started making the sandwiches, a prosaic act that gave them both some breathing room. Danny also had to acknowledge that a bare-chested Martin absently ripping open a bag of pretzels with his teeth was giving him all kinds of ideas, and now that he and Martin were officially off duty for another day, he was hoping that he'd have the time to explore those impulses.
As Martin pushed a plate toward him, Danny let his blanket drop off his shoulders and pool around his hips and legs. His cell phone was in the way and he tugged at the jacket still hanging on the back of his stool. He burrowed into the nearest pocket and dropped the phone inside, surprised when he heard a dull thud. Martin was filling glasses with ice and was turned away, so Danny pushed his fingers past the phone and fingered whatever it was that the phone had hit.
He recognized the shape immediately and withdrew his hand. It seemed like years had passed since he'd stuffed the small wrapped present into his jacket, thinking that at some point he'd find the courage to give it to Martin. Now he feared it was a gesture that could work against him, a misguided gift that could be interpreted as a token of friendship and nothing else.
It was another wrinkle in an already complicated situation, but Danny was determined to find a way to make Martin understand not only how Danny felt about him, but what Danny needed from him as well. Danny would never accept just a casual affair with Martin and from what Martin had said earlier, neither would he. But there were so many intangibles, not the least of which was working together. If they were going to maintain this new relationship—something Danny was going to fight for with everything he had—then Danny wondered just how far Martin felt comfortable in living that truth out loud.
But for that moment, he was content to eat his sandwich and tease Martin over his eating habits, feeling ridiculously pleased when his nonsense coaxed that small crease in Martin's cheek to make a quick appearance. Despite the underlying thread of uncertainty between them, Danny felt comfortable with Martin as they ate their late supper. The large windows that looked down on the lake were edged in frost, but through them Danny could see a landscape softened by a glittering white coating of snow. The sky above was clear, a black expanse littered with pinpricks of sparkling light, and to Danny, used to the sounds of a city that was noisy even in the middle of the night, the silence of the woods added to the illusion that he and Martin were isolated solely for the purpose of beginning a love story six years in the making, yet still frighteningly, thrillingly new.
Their meal finished, Martin began gathering the plates and setting them in a sink running with hot water. Danny stuck his head out the door long enough to verify that Martin's car and the road behind it were both covered in snow.
"Good thing we don't have to go back tonight." He closed the door with an exaggerated shiver. "It is nasty out there."
Danny's breath caught at the wicked look Martin tossed his way. "Yeah? Who says I was going to drive us back tonight anyway?"
"Oh?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Were you planning on holding me hostage?"
Martin shrugged. "If I needed to," he said placidly. The casual admission put a wobble in Danny's knees, but he ignored it. "There's a stash of new toothbrushes under the bathroom counter, toothpaste in the drawer. Help yourself while I clean up."
It wasn't the first time Danny had brushed his teeth in a strange bathroom with a new lover in the other room, but never had he felt so exhilarated and at the same time, so unsure. Even with Elena, he'd felt more comfortable than this, knowing his role and his place in their relationship. Martin was keeping him unbalanced, with his mixed signals that careened from flirty to nonchalant to uncertain and back again.
And Danny couldn't stand the thought of sharing a bed with Martin now, if it meant simply getting beneath the covers with a muttered goodnight, each man rolling to his own side. As he washed his hands and threw water on his face, he resolved to never let that happen, not with Martin. Danny didn't want to plan a way out, didn't need an escape route—all he needed was Martin.
They switched places with a shared smile as they passed at the bathroom threshold. Martin closed the door and Danny wandered into the bedroom to find that Martin had picked up the clothing that had earlier been discarded with such enthusiastic abandon. Their things had been separated and neatly folded, two piles sitting on the top of a knotty pine dresser, a foot apart. Hitching the blanket around his shoulders a little tighter, Danny shoved the two piles together, then wandered out into the main room.
The expanse of white snow and the inky void of the lake beyond intrigued him and he parked in front of the tall windows, huddling deeper into the soft folds of the blanket. Staring out, he wondered if he had the nerve to be honest with Martin, to confide in him his doubts and his dreams. It wasn't in Danny's nature to be patient, and if Martin was going to be content with something less than a commitment, then Danny needed to know that.
In the reflection of the glass, he watched as Martin exited the bathroom. He didn't turn, instead choosing to wait for Martin's next move. He tracked Martin's movements behind him until Martin turned off all the lights, leaving only an orange glow from the dying fire. Now Martin was a shadow drifting around the room, checking on the door, straightening a pillow, until his meandering brought him up directly behind Danny.
Before Danny could say anything, Martin let his own blanket drop to the floor. Sliding his arms beneath the folds of Danny's wrap, he enveloped Danny in his arms, resting his chin on Danny's shoulder. The contact of their skin was immediately seductive, and Danny felt his reservations and doubts melt away in the face of sudden, swamping desire.
"You ready to come to bed?" Martin murmured.
Turning in the circle of Martin's arms, Danny let his blanket fall away. He took Martin's face between his hands and kissed him deeply. Martin returned the kiss, his hands caressing Danny from his shoulders to the top of his thighs.
So right, Danny thought hazily. He took control of the kiss, pressing his tongue inside Martin's mouth, reveling in the clean taste and warmth he found there, wondering how he'd worked beside Martin for so long and had denied himself this unparalleled pleasure. Arousal tugged at his belly and he could feel a similar stirring in Martin's body where it aligned with his own.
Martin brushed a kiss on the space beneath Danny's ear. "Know what?"
Danny closed his eyes and arched his neck. "What?"
Martin hesitated, then dropped his head onto Danny's shoulder as he tightened his embrace. "I know it probably didn't mean anything, but earlier, you called me—you said mi amor."
Something in Martin's tone caught Danny's ear. "Yeah? Did you like that?"
Martin laughed quietly as he slid his palm down Danny's arm and gathered his hand, guiding it upward between their bodies to drop a kiss on the knuckles.
"I have a confession. Whatever you say in Spanish always sounds beautiful to me, even if I pick up on only half of what you say. That kinda pisses me off, but I still like it."
A thrill that had little to do with Martin's naked body entwined with his in front of a ten foot high expanse of glass poured through Danny. Martin was asking a question in the guise of a statement of fact, and Danny understood that his response was going to be the turning point to this long Christmas day that had brought him so close to everything he'd ever wanted. As high as the hunger between them flared, as much as he wanted Martin and was distracted by Martin's hands and lips, he couldn't stop the words he'd been holding back.
"I meant it." Danny dropped a fleeting kiss on Martin's mouth. "Earlier, when I said you didn't have a clue, I should've told you then."
"Told me what?"
Danny placed his mouth to Martin's ear. "Te quiero, Martín," he whispered. "Tu eres mi vida, mi amor . Did you understand that?"
Danny felt the words reverberate through Martin's body in the form of a shudder that ran through the lean form.
"God—I never thought I'd hear that from you." Martin took Danny's mouth in a possessive kiss that seared them both, then pressed their foreheads together. "Jesus, Danny, I've loved you for years."
The impassioned declaration hit Danny unexpectedly hard. As much as they'd shared over the course of the day, it was heartbreaking to think of the time that they'd wasted. All those months that he was with Elena, trying to make himself into something he wasn't, Martin had been loving him. How far back had Martin been watching Danny with the eyes of love instead of friendship?
It was a question for another time, and Danny refused to let the quick flush of moisture in his eyes escape. Martin was beginning to make love to him where they stood, with a skill and tenderness that Danny knew was born of a love that had survived so many obstacles before it had ever been given a voice.
It was almost dawn before they fell asleep, loosely entangled as though they required a physical connection even in slumber. Their limbs heavy with repletion, the vows they'd both once found so hard to say had been shared in every possible way, including a sleepy declaration from Martin in faulty Spanish that Danny rewarded with a lazy kiss before they finally let happy exhaustion overtake them.
At first the sensation was vague, like a feather dancing on his back. Face down on the bed, forehead buried in a pillow, Danny swam up slowly through the layers of sleep, his mind lazily grasping at the feeling, trying to identify it. It was pleasant, comforting, and when it ceased, he hunched his shoulders in annoyance, wanting it back.
Then it began again, only the pressure had increased, and the sensation passed from nice to erotic when he realized it was Martin's lips playing up and down the length of his spine. Danny grinned into the pillow, then slowly rolled onto his side, the sheet and blanket that Martin had folded down to his waist falling to his hips.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Martin smiled down at him.
"Morning," he said.
Danny reached up and slid his hand around Martin's neck, guiding his head down until their mouths met in a gentle, lasting kiss.
"Morning," Danny echoed. He released Martin and frowned, taking in the damp hair and the tee shirt and jeans that Martin was wearing. "You're already dressed? What time is it?"
Martin placed his hand on Danny's sheet-covered hip, his thumb caressing the bare skin above its edge. "Just after eight. I haven't been up long, just long enough to make some coffee and grab a shower." He grimaced and plucked at his shirt. "I hate putting on dirty clothes."
Danny nodded in agreement, then moaned as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. When he glanced at Martin again, he was treated to a look of such unguarded love that it stunned him into momentary silence. When he found his voice again, it was shaking.
"What are you staring at?"
"You," Martin replied immediately. The grin reappeared as he reached over and ruffled Danny's hair. "You have bed head."
Danny batted away Martin's hand. "You're just jealous, crew cut boy. It takes a lot of money to achieve this look."
"Oh yeah?" Martin bent toward Danny until their noses were inches away. "I'd say you wasted your money. Hell, I'll do it for free."
Before Danny could move, Martin's hands were in his hair, but the passionate kiss that came with it made Danny forget all about his hair and concentrate solely on the luscious pleasure of Martin's mouth.
The kiss broke when Martin backed off and slapped Danny on the leg. "Sorry to break this up, but I need to get these sheets into the wash, along with any towels we use."
"Okay." Danny threw aside the covers and put his feet on the floor. "Let me go shower and then I'll cook breakfast while you start the laundry."
Martin nodded. "Works for me."
Danny stood up and caught Martin by the wrist. "This is nice," he said with a hint of warmth in his cheeks. "Domestic, I mean. I like it."
Martin kissed his cheek, a romantic gesture that stole Danny's heart more swiftly than any overtly sexual demonstration. "Me, too."
They met up again fifteen minutes later. Martin had stripped the bed and loaded the linens into the small washer off the kitchen. He took Danny's towels and added them to the load as Danny, clad only in jeans, socks and a thick green apron, began gathering the remnants of the leftover food. Martin had purchased a half dozen eggs and Danny used all of them plus the leftover meats and cheeses to make a frittata, all the while aware of Martin's movements as he straightened the cabin before going outside to begin scraping snow and ice off his car. All the activity meant that they'd be separating soon and it made Danny uneasy. He was sure of Martin, and he'd done everything he could in the last few hours to ensure that Martin felt the same, and yet the vague threat of the resumption of their outside lives hung over him.
He put the frittata in the oven and turned to find Martin on the other side of the kitchen counter, stripping off his jacket. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink and as he rubbed his reddened hands together, Danny poured him a cup of coffee that he accepted with a nod of thanks. Wrapping his hands around the mug, Martin looked at Danny over the rim.
"You look worried," he said. "What's up?"
Danny shrugged. "Maybe we should talk."
"Yeah? About what?"
Danny jerked his thumb in the direction of the road that would lead them back to the real world.
"What happens next."
Martin didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Okay, where do you want to start?"
"With this." Danny took the mug from Martin's grasp and set it on the counter before gathering Martin into his arms. Martin came easily and they shared a warm kiss before Danny moved away with a wink.
"Okay." Martin blinked away the dazed look in his eyes. "Now that we have that out of the way, tell me what you're thinking."
"Elena."
Martin frowned. "Right. Sam."
"Yeah, and Jack."
In unison, "Viv."
Martin picked up his coffee. "Okay, we've done roll call, let's break it down. How public are we going with this?"
"I don't know, Martin." Danny scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I just know I don't want to hurt anyone."
"Me either, but I've done the secret romance routine and we both know how well that worked out. You and Elena had better luck with that."
"True, but we were over almost before anyone found out.. And this—you and I—is going to be one hell of surprise for some people. Like, everyone."
"So why do you think Elena will be hurt? It's not like we're going to take out an ad in the Times, right?"
Danny's answering smile was brief. "You know I went over there yesterday, right?"
His expression turning wary, Martin nodded. "Yeah. Was there a problem?"
"Not a problem, exactly, but Elena wanted us to get together again."
"She did?" Danny saw Martin's swiftly hidden wince and his heart lurched. His own reaction must have shown in his eyes, because Martin threw back his shoulders and waved his hand. "Doesn't matter. But I can see why us showing up tomorrow holding hands could be upsetting."
"Right." Danny exhaled, grateful that Martin understood. "I think she'll need to see us together, but not together, if you know what I mean. Not for a while, anyway."
"Yeah, that's probably best. As much as Sam has her own drama going on, she's not going to understand this either, and I'm not up to dealing with her reaction. And Jack—"
"Jack is going to freak when he finds out."
Martin's grin was mischievous. "Damn right he is. But again, I'm not planning on wearing a Pride button on my lapel, so I think it'll be a while before anyone catches on that we're spending all our free time together."
Listening to Martin's practical view of the situation, Danny admitted that as far as their co-workers were concerned, it probably wasn't going to be an issue until some unusual circumstance outed their relationship. When that time came, there would be consequences, but he was growing more confident with each passing moment that he and Martin could handle them, as long as they were together.
"Speaking of the job," Danny continued, "working together may get complicated. In case you haven't noticed, you and I don't always agree on things."
Martin raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you mean like proper procedure, the relative innocence or guilt of a suspect, the correct way to conduct an interrogation, things like that?"
Danny smothered a laugh behind his hand. "Yeah, things like that."
"You forget," Martin murmured, "I've lived with this for a long time. And during that time, I've had no problem telling you were full of crap when I thought it was necessary. But it never changed how I felt about you. So, for me, I don't see a problem."
Danny stared at Martin, momentarily speechless. He still was getting used to the idea that not only did Martin love him, was in love with him, but had already come to terms with what it meant. Even now, he was looking back at Danny very calmly, as if ready to face down all of Danny's fears.
Unable to stop himself, Danny walked to Martin and enfolded him in an embrace. As Martin's arms wrapped around his waist, he closed his eyes and held on, the last of his doubts melting away in the face of Martin's steadfast certainty.
He turned his head enough so that he could whisper into Martin's ear.
"Know what, mi amor? If you want to walk into the bullpen tomorrow holding hands, that's okay with me."
"Morning, Danny. Have a good Christmas?"
Danny looked up from his monitor and smiled at Vivian. "Yeah. How about you?"
Viv shrugged. "I had a houseful of people trapped for too long with nothing to do after that damn ice storm hit. I'm telling you, coming to work was a relief."
Wagging a finger at her, Danny shook his head. "Come on, don't lie. You loved it and you know it."
Vivian looked back at him without expression, then leaned in closer. "Okay, next time I'm calling you and you can entertain ten adults, four teenagers and three kids under ten for twelve hours. Did I mention that the storm knocked out the cable?"
Danny folded his hands over his heart. "I take it all back," he vowed. "You are a saint."
"And don't you forget it."
She gave his a shoulder a playful nudge and walked away, leaving him with a clear view of Martin's profile as he sat at his desk. Danny didn't allow his gaze to linger, too afraid that anyone passing by could see the love shining clearly in his eyes. He turned back to his computer and took in a deep, calming breath.
He felt as though he'd just passed a rigorous test. Vivian was the first co-worker he'd seen that morning—besides Martin—and he was positive that everyone would notice the momentous change in his life. The happiness inside him surely glowed through his skin and he was almost surprised that sparks didn't fly from his fingertips when he typed on his keyboard.
Simply walking into the office that morning had been a nearly unbearable thrill. He'd gone in early, wanting to be at his desk to watch Martin walk in, his heart hammering with anticipation. It'd been almost twelve hours since they'd parted, and the giddiness of seeing Martin again filled even the elevator ride to the office with a secret, fluttery excitement.
He was only a little shocked that Martin had the same idea and had arrived before him. Sitting at his desk, tossing Danny's Christmas gift to him from one hand to the to other, Martin had grinned at Danny and said good morning, like it was any other day at the office. Danny had stopped by his desk and looked down at him, wishing above anything that he could yank Martin into his arms and kiss him good morning properly, but settled instead for the illicit rush of pretending to straighten Martin's pink and yellow paisley tie. Any disappointment at missing an opportunity to watch Martin saunter into the bullpen was lost in the warmth of Martin's eyes and the promise that at the end of the day, or the end of their next case, they'd be together.
But Danny knew that any wait was going to be too long.
After breakfast at the cabin, they'd finished cleaning up and re-made the bed. Martin scraped out the cold ashes from the fireplace and laid down another fire for the cabin's next inhabitants while Danny put away the dishes. It wasn't until Danny grabbed his coat to leave that he remembered the small box tucked away in its pocket. As Martin joined him at the kitchen counter after a last reconnaissance of the cabin, Danny had placed the box in his hand.
"What's this?"
"Open it and find out."
Running a finger along the edge of the ribbon, Martin had looked up at Danny through the veil of his eyelashes. "I don't have anything for you."
Danny rolled his eyes. "This isn't the office gift exchange, okay? Just open it already."
"All right, bossy, give me a sec." Martin had ripped at the paper and set it aside, then pried open the small white box and gazed inside. "Aw, man," he breathed, "this is so cool."
Danny had flushed with pleasure, both relieved and gratified that he'd given in to his impulse to buy the gift. As Martin reverently removed the Swiss army knife from its cotton bed, Danny could once again admire the cool, clear lines of the unusual Lucite casing that revealed the traditional tools inside. Slim and graceful with fastenings made of sterling silver, emblazoned with a red enamel logo, it was a beautiful and elegant twist on an everyday tool, and Danny had known intuitively that Martin would appreciate the craftsmanship.
"You like it?" Danny had asked, already knowing the answer. Martin was engrossed in the knife, checking out the various tools and running his thumb along the smooth silver edge, but looked up at Danny's question.
"Just a little," he said with a crooked smile, setting aside the knife. Then he'd slid his hand around Danny's neck and kissed him hard, shoving him against the counter, his other hand framing Danny's stubble-rough jaw. Danny had welcomed the ferocity of Martin's kiss, understanding both the love and the need that fueled it. Sometimes there were no words necessary or even possible, and in that moment at the cabin, he and Martin had shared something essential, an affirmation that the life they were starting to build would be stronger than the world they were about to rejoin.
Knowing that, even though the words remained unsaid, had made the rest of the day a little easier. The roads had been clogged with traffic, lengthening the trip back to Roger's neighborhood more than they'd expected. But it had given them the opportunity to talk about some of their plans for the near future. By the time they'd parted at Danny's car, they'd agreed that they'd go home for the night, but that they'd each pack an overnight bag so that as soon as the job would allow, they'd be ready to spend any precious free time together.
It had been a long night, made bearable by Martin's late night phone call when he'd confessed that he couldn't get comfortable. Danny had been laying in bed staring at the ceiling himself and when he'd disclosed that to Martin, they'd laughed like giddy teenagers before settling in to whisper silly confidences and tease each other to sleep. Danny had awakened with his cell phone still clutched in his hand.
It was useless trying to clean up his emails, but Danny kept up the pretense anyway. Martin was still on his phone, speaking too low for Danny to hear, which was just as well. Even though he'd had little sleep in the past three days, his body was still singing with desire, and all the fantasies about Martin that he'd kept at bay had now been given free rein. Even taking a shower that morning had been almost more than he could handle, thanks to his imagination that insisted on envisioning a wet, naked Martin spread-eagled against the tiles.
Sitting at his desk, the vision made Danny shiver once more. Aside from Danny's single desire-drenched vow, they hadn't explicitly discussed certain aspects of making love. But what had once been framed by nebulous, half-thought out daydreams was now a throat-drying necessity. He knew they were on that road and the only thing standing between them and that ultimate intimacy was time, but the want was always there, the need to touch and be touched never far from Danny's thoughts. He could still feel the impossibly soft surface of Martin's inner thigh on the pads his fingertips, could still see the defined muscles of Martin's shoulders as he bent down to press his mouth to the smooth skin beneath the scars on Danny's abdomen. And with each memory, no matter how quickly suppressed, the desire pushed closer to an edge that Danny was too ready to fall over.
A swirl of spicy perfume announced the arrival of Elena and Danny braced for the impact. She pushed aside a file on his desk and hitched her hip onto its edge, the fabric of her skirt twitched into place just above her knee.
"Good morning," she trilled, then continued in Spanish, "did you enjoy your extra day off?"
Danny leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, I did," he replied in English. "How about you?"
Elena frowned and Danny knew it was because he wasn't answering her in Spanish. When they'd been together, it had been like their own secret language in the office, but now he had no use for it, except to make Martin smile.
She nodded. "Sure, it was nice to spend the extra time with Sophie. What did you do after you left my place?"
Running a fingertip beneath the edge of his shirt collar, Danny replied, "Got together with Martin."
His brief answer caused another little frown that was quickly replaced with a flirty smile. "Yeah? What did you two boys get up to?"
Danny hesitated. He and Martin had decided to tell the truth whenever possible, but this was already crossing untested ground. "He'd invited me out to his uncle's place, so we met up there."
"Ah, that's nice," Elena said. "What's the matter with your neck?"
"My what?"
"Your neck. You keep rubbing at it."
Startled, Danny, dropped his hand and picked up a pen. He knew what was beneath the crisp fold of his gray dress shirt—a deep red mark that he'd discovered that morning when he'd shaved. Even with Elena sitting less than two feet away from him, Danny felt a quiver of desire deep in his gut as he recalled Martin's lips hot against his throat, sucking and kissing as they rode out the aftershocks of orgasm that had left them trembling in each other's arms before they'd finally fallen asleep in the cool dark of pre-dawn.
More than twenty-four hours later, Danny imagined he could still feel the sting.
His tone was bland as he tossed the pen from hand to hand. "My tie's twisted, I think. I was half asleep when I got dressed this morning."
Elena reached toward him, her long fingers aiming for his collar. "Here, you want me to fix it?"
"No, no," Danny said quickly. He made a show of tugging at the collar and squirmed a little in his chair. "I'll head to the men's room in a minute."
She was about to say more when a phone rang in the background, and judging by the way she stood up, it was hers. She placed her hand on Danny's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Okay, duty calls. We'll catch up later, si?"
"Yeah, sure."
As she left, Danny looked across the bullpen to see Martin gazing at him steadily. Danny gave him a slow wink that instantly relaxed the tight lines around his mouth. Standing up, Martin grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and put it on as he approached Danny's desk with a wry expression on his face.
"Man, wouldn't you know, the first voice mail I had waiting for me was my dad. You ready to go on a coffee run?"
Danny stood up and reached for his own coat. "Never thought you'd ask. What did he want?"
"He's going to be in town next week and wants to get together for dinner. He probably wants to talk about this whole separation thing now."
Dinner. That meant a night they couldn't share. It was going to happen more often than they'd like, but it was too soon. Ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach, Danny said, "That does not sound like fun to me. What did you say?"
"I called him and told him that dinner wasn't an option. I could fit in a lunch, if we weren't on a case."
Danny bit his lip to hide his relieved grin. "Yeah? How did that go over?"
"Not great, but he agreed. Not much more he could do." As they waited for the elevator, Martin picked at a piece of lint on Danny's shoulder, then brushed the fabric with the back of his hand. "He also wanted to know if that no dinners together meant that I had a girlfriend."
"And what did you say to that, young Martin?"
The elevator doors opened. "I said," Martin began, but was stopped when Jack stepped through the doors. He had his cell phone to his ear and he gathered in Danny and Martin with a glance.
"What are you two up to?" he asked, cupping his hand over the phone.
"Coffee," Martin answered. "You want something?"
"Yeah." Jack nodded and reached toward his jacket pocket with his free hand, but Danny waved him off.
"Forget it, Martin's picking up the tab. What do you want?"
As Martin started to protest, Jack switched his phone to his other ear. "Coffee. Black. No foam, no flavor, none of that crap. Just coffee." He pointed a finger at Danny. "And if Martin's buying, that means you're coming with me. I'm on hold with the NYPD. They think they've got a carjacking gone bad and the driver is missing. Trying to get a confirmation now."
Reluctantly, Danny stood back and watched Martin enter the elevator alone. As Martin turned around to face the closing doors, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, his hands spread apart in surrender. They had just enough time to share a rueful grin before the doors closed, and then Danny was on the move, following Jack as he stomped into his office.
Life was back to normal—but it would never be the same.
Dedicated to a friend who baked me "inspiration cookies," back when I couldn't write to save my life. Thanks, De!
Written because we all know this is probably how it all happens offscreen.
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