“Iowa I can understand,” he began, measured, rubbing a reassuring circle into his agent’s hip. “South Dakota was the same place with different tornadoes. I left for a reason. The rest I have no frame of reference for.”
Arthur pressed a distracted kiss to his forehead, brow furrowed. “When you’re a high school sports all-star from a conservative flyover state, your options are more or less join the service, hope for a football scholarship, or stay there, marry a nice girl, have kids, and die. I turned eighteen right before 9/11. Everyone was perfectly proud to see me off to boot camp and it didn’t require explaining that I was breaking up with the local prom queen because I was deep enough in the closet to be halfway down Narnia fucking Lane.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yes, the Army in the era of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ was preferable to staying in Fuck All Nowhere, Iowa.”
Syler gripped him tighter, suddenly aware that the seven year age gap between them meant Arthur had grown up in a very different world. “Were you ever out to anyone?”
“Fuck no,” he breathed. Like a dam breaking, Syler thought. “I learned to walk the walk a long time ago, Syler. I know damn well people still don’t clock me as a gay man. I had every intention of doing my time, taking my GI Bill, and carving out a life in the open for myself. I just turned out to be a better fit for this life than any other one.”
“Joining Delta?”
“They were more willing to turn a blind eye to my indiscretions on account of me being very good at killing people, but even DADT getting repealed didn’t mean I felt safe going in for more than a one night stand. Besides,” he laughed, empty, an entire story in the space between, “who wants a soldier they can’t be seen with in public?”
“Oh Arthur—”
“Don’t,” he warned tersely. Syler froze. He sighed, mouth pressing an apology into his hair. “Sorry, I don’t do pity well. Never have.”
The younger man smiled, wry. “You? Say it isn’t so.”
“That’s my sweetheart,” he chuckled, relaxing. “Jeanette recruited me out of Delta almost eight years ago. One of the first things she asked once she saw my record was if I was ‘flexible’ about engaging potential partners in the field, presumably male. I’d already decided I was getting out if I had to hide any longer, so I just told her the truth. Do you know what she said?”
Syler raised a brow. He grinned, affecting the Director’s prim tone: “‘I meant women, Dufault. I don’t give a damn who you go home to in your off hours. Honestly, how stupid are the people you’ve reported to in the past?’ I signed the contract on the spot.”
Syler couldn’t help it. He lost it, laughing hysterically at the spot on impression. Arthur joined in almost immediately. “It is,” he wheezed, pressed helplessly to the other man’s chest, “so incredibly reassuring to know she does that with everyone when she hires them.”
Arthur snorted. “You should hear Benson’s retelling of Jeanette’s reaction to her engagement to Reyes’ sometime.”
“What?!”
“Yeah,” Arthur grinned, pressing a finger to the furrow in the other man’s brow. “You really should’ve figured that out by now, you blindly oblivious darling.”
“They’re engaged?”
“Well, they were. Two and a half years ago. They got married just before you were hired on. Seriously, it’s a running department joke to see how long it takes new hires to notice. You have the record by a landslide, S.”
Syler sputtered, face absolutely tomato red. Arthur hauled him in for a kiss, delighted even when the other man shoved him off to fix him with a glare. “I hate all of you just so you know.”
Blue eyes twinkled. “I don’t believe you for a minute, Mr. Perrin.” He ruffled Syler’s hair, amused when the slighter man tried to wriggle out of his grasp, pulling him in closer again. He eventually gave in, settling on top of his resident menace—his now, god help him—and kissed him soundly. He pulled back a while later, both wearing twin expressions of contentment.
Their phones, of course, choose that moment to sound with an emergency alert.
Twenty-Six
“Boss, get your ass in here!” Miranda announced the instant he accepted the call.
“Pyrona?” Syler replied, already resigned to the answer as he hauled on the first pair of pants he found. “Who the fuck launches an attack on the 1st of January?” Beside him, Arthur hustled himself into his own clothes, deep in a clipped conversation with the Director.
“Opportunistic assholes. Jason and I have the firewalls, but they’re tearing through them faster than we can repair them.”
“Be there in ten. I’ll log in on the drive.”
“Five would be better!”
“Can do,” Arthur cut in, loud enough for her to hear, already guiding them out of the apartment despite the fact Syler was still struggling to get his shirt on. He slung the younger man’s messenger bag over his shoulder as they passed the kitchen, while Syler keyed into their system from his tablet to survey the damage.
Arthur directed him along to the car, belting him into his seat before he tore out of the garage. For the best really; Syler was entirely immersed in his conversation with Miranda and Jason. “Fucking shit, did they bring more friends?”
“Sure looks like it. They’re focusing the brunt of the attack on our inter-agency communications system. They’ve already knocked most of it offline.”
“Oh good.” Syler snipped, already tapping along through their system layers. “They’re trying to blockade us before they breach. Please tell me you two have got help down there right now?”
“Maria just came through the door. Colonel’s on his way.”
“Oh thank god. Maria, try to isolate where they’re coming from so we can launch a
