He's done his best to drive carefully in Zaf's baby, actually stopping at intersections rather than the casual roll through them he usually practices, keeping to something vaguely resembling the speed limit, and he's mildly concerned by the fact that no remark follows the ride to Zaf's flat - that in itself is a miracle. But adding to his unease is the way the younger agent visibly pales with each step on the two story climb to his door, the beating he took earlier obviously having exacted a heavier toll on his body than he was letting on, and Adam follows him into the flat with a familiarity born of years of friendship, watching as Zaf more or less falls onto the couch with a groan.
"Not a debrief. I just wanted to...talk. Away from the grid," he amends, his gaze settling upon the cuts and bruises that decorate his best friend's face, knowing how much they must be paining him. Adam moves into the kitchen for a moment, fetching a bottle of water from the refrigerator and an ice pack from the freezer, pausing at a cupboard long enough to grab the bottle of Motrin before making his way back out to where Zaf is patiently waiting for him. Adam presses the bottle of pain reliever into the other man's hand, watching as Zaf pops a few into his mouth and swallows them down with a deep pull from the water bottle, and it's with careful hands that the older man rests the ice pack against the colorful bruise that decorates his best friend's brow, studying the damage to the familiar features he's grown so fond of over the years.
His thoughts are jumbled, disjointed...up until the moment his gaze catches the younger man's dark eyes, and in that moment it all becomes perfectly clear to him what he wants to say - what he needs to say. Adam moves the laundry basket from the couch rather than settling himself upon the chair adjacent to where Zaf was sitting, and he swears he can see a flicker of surprise cross the younger man's face when he sits beside him, not so close as to crowd him but close enough that he can feel the warmth from Zaf's body radiating across the space between them to chase the chill from his own bones.
"You mentioned Blackpool." Adam's voice is low, soft, and he studies his best friend's face as he speaks, reading every miniscule reaction with the ease of one who is fluent in the language of Zaf. "I've been struggling to remember a lot of what happened there, but I have a few vague...images. Things I thought must have been a dream." He pauses for a moment, gathering his courage around him like armor in case this went very badly before forging on. "It wasn't a dream, was it Zaf?"
There is a moment of silence where he can see the other man hesitate, probably trying to gauge Adam's tone, his mood, to determine the proper way to answer the question, but before Zaf can respond the older man gives a quiet huff of amusement, blue eyes holding that dark gaze despite his own need to look away, to hide the feelings that must be written plainly upon his own face.
"Something you said earlier clicked with me, and...you're right. We've lost enough friends today. I don't want to waste any more time being afraid..." Adam swallows hard, his heart beating a staccato rhythm in his chest as he runs one hand through already tousled hair, glancing away for a scant moment before meeting the intensity of Zaf's gaze once more. "I can't lose you. You are...I want..." A frustrated sound escapes his throat as he struggles to find the words, finally settling on the ones that would either earn him the very thing he wanted more than anything on earth...or cost him his best friend.
"I've fallen in love with you."
