---
“We never did finish our conversation,” Arthur began, cutting the engine as they pulled into the apartment parking garage an hour later.
“No, I suppose we didn’t.” The agent glanced over at the other man who sat very still, face inscrutable, breathless exhilaration from their impromptu trip vanished in an instant. Neither made a move to exit the vehicle.
Arthur waited, blue gaze steady. “Well, sweetheart? What do you want here?”
“I told you I’m not very good at this,” he hedged, voice trailing off, posture finally breaking as he started nervously toying with the handles of the plastic carry out container. “The talking bit, anyway.” Hazel eyes met his, more than a bit helpless.
It would seem, Arthur thought, that one of them would have to take the lead and it was never going to be Syler, for all that the other man was bossier than sin in every other situation. May as well lay his cards on the table now and hope for the best. He pasted on an easy smile, going for casual as he cupped his hand around the other man’s neck, leaning over to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. “Believe it or not, I’m the patently boring monogamous type, Syler. If you’ll let me, when this is over I want to take you out properly. Somewhere nice. See if we can be as good together as I think.”
Syler blinked owlishly. “I don’t think anyone has ever been that blunt before. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s an android?”
“Syler,” he warned.
“Yes. Yes, please, that sounds wonderful.” Arthur grinned, rubbing a thumb into the knot of tension in the side of his handler’s neck, relishing in the way he melted into him. His expression went a touch rueful. “I’ve never had the opportunity to try your version of patently boring. I might be shit at it.”
“Well, you never know until you try,” he teased, filing away that hint of insecurity for a later discussion. “Come on, let’s eat. And not in here. I like you, but the upholstery is sacred.”
“I see how it is,” he groused, exiting the vehicle all the same. “You’re actually in a monogamous relationship with your car. How can I ever hope to compete with that?”
“She’s my girl, you’re my sweetheart. Totally different,” he responded, tugging Syler to him as they headed for the elevator. “Besides, I don’t have sex with my car.”
“Oh, so there are places you refuse to tread.”
---
They settled on Syler’s couch to eat, mostly because it was that or the bed and Arthur absolutely refused to contemplate eating in bed. God, the man really was particular. Career military through and through, Syler thought, not for the first time. It seemed burned into him right down to the meticulously efficient way he cleared his plate.
“Out of curiosity,” the blond drawled, setting his container aside before fixing a stare at something over Syler’s shoulder. At what, Syler had no idea. In his home, it could be just about anything. “The floor lamp. I mean, I assume it’s just a lamp. It’s definitely producing light, but…”
He gestured towards his metal monstrosity composed of mismatched old steel pipes, three bicycle wheels, a copper pressure gauge, exposed wires, various buttons that might be triggers of some sort, and half a dozen spokes radiating randomly from the top, each ending in between one and three bulbs, among other bits and bobs. Syler reached a hand back to adjust one of the spokes, hinged joints rattling ominously as the bulbs swayed, expression rueful. “Yeah, that’s what happens when narcoleptic engineering meets a manic cleaning spree at three a.m.”
Arthur blinked. “Does it explode?”
“Not so far.”
“Huh.” The older man turned in a slow circle, settling his attention on the workbench nearest to them. It was strewn with the cannibalized remnants of vaguely saucer shaped devices painted in various shades of blue and green. “And those?”
“Rejected iterations of my drone project. Still not totally happy with their ability to hold both payload and surveillance equipment, but their adaptive tracking technology is coming along well.” Arthur gestured towards the next bench, eyebrows slowly climbing upwards. “I’m toying with robotic spies disguised as common animals that move and look real. Got it off of a late night nature documentary for filming in the wild using decoys.”
“So you’re trying to put me out of a job,” he grinned, slinging a hand around Syler’s shoulders and pulling him in closer, shamelessly indulging in his love of physical affection. Syler huffed, all show as he easily went along with it, curling into his warmth. The man was like a damned furnace.
“Replicating your unique brand of carnage and chaos may be beyond even my abilities, nearly unlimited budget for AI and robotics or not. Hell, the combined forces of the entire scientific community couldn’t isolate the genes responsible for that level of talent if you gave them three human lifetimes.”
Beside him, Arthur laughed. “God, the mouth on you.”
Syler glanced up at him slyly. “You’re very welcome to try to shut me—”
His agent had him pinned to the sofa before he could finish, eyes entirely predatory as he graced him with a hungry look. “My pleasure.”
“Less talking, more doing,” he replied, clever fingers already hard at work undoing the buttons of his shirt. Arthur drew back just enough to shrug it off and Syler immediately tugged him back down, slipping his hands greedily around the other man’s broad shoulders. Arthur’s mouth found his neck with unfailing accuracy, mouthing his way down to his handler’s collarbones and sucking lightly, hands rucking up the bottom hem of Syler’s shirt.
Syler pushed him up, pulling both hoodie and shirt off in a clumsy motion that nearly took his glasses off along with them. Arthur chuckled, reaching up with both hands to resettle the frames before sliding his hands around his head, pulling him in for a kiss. “Eager,” he commented, grinding down into Syler’s lap, pushing him back down. The other
