#jackbaetillo

Heists are hard.

Its taken years for Adam to perfect the art of being a crime boss, one he knows he’ll never do as well as Ramsey, and all it does is wear him out. Sure, it brings in the money, and nothing really makes him feel better than seeing his best friends in the whole world cheering and celebrating with expensive liquor on fancy couches after they’ve done something right. But there’s a deep set ache in his bones, from too many hours spent hunched over a desk covered in plans, an exhaustion behind his eyes from all the sleepless nights, and an itch in his skin from all the things he could change, right now, about everything, even though it’s all fine. Adam Kovic doesn’t know true rest anymore, and it makes him feel like a frantic college kid, always one bad job away from collapsing.

It’s after a heist, one that goes extremely well, when Adam’s trying to make himself part of the celebrations, despite the fact he was practically dead on his feet, that Spoole sets his foot down. Adam had been watching his boyfriend since they all met up that morning, had noticed his worried glances and furrowed brow at every yawn and pained groan. And, it seems, Adam finally tipped the scales, and Spoole had decided that enough was enough. He leaves supervision in Omar and Matt’s hands, before pushing Adam off toward their bedroom, ignoring his grumbled complaints.

“You’ve looked like a zombie for weeks, Adam, you’re taking an actual break,” Spoole tells him once they stop in the bathroom.

“Alcohol is a break,” Adam answers.

He gets a frown in return, before Spoole fiddles with the bathtub and starts filling it. “Alcohol isn’t a break. You get riled up when your drunk and you need to rest.” Adam scoffs. His patience is a little fired, and his eyelids are heavy, and he feels almost like a little kid. Spoole turns to him, poking his chest with a hardly felt jab. “Clothes, off. We’re taking a bath.”

Adam’s seen Spoole naked, oh has he seen him naked. Getting undressed in front of the smaller man isn’t an issue. But suddenly he feels almost vulnerable at the idea. He blames it on the exhaustion, the lack of sleep, the six cups of coffee he had this morning after the all nighter he pulled. But he doesn’t argue, pulling off his shirt that still smells like gunpowder and then slipping off his jeans.

Spoole’s undressed by the time the bathtub’s filled. Adam settles in first, thanks all the gods he can name off that he got a big bathtub with his apartment, then sighs once Spoole sits between his legs, leaning back against him. He takes it back whatever sleepy complaints he had with this before, because he feels the ache slide off his body immediately. He slides his arms around Spoole and holds him close, feeling his laughter through his back. “Someone’s content.”

“Why don’t we do this more often,” he murmurs softly, pressing his face into his hair and slipping his eyes closed. He could fall asleep like this, he really could, and he doesn’t think Spoole would complain if he did.

He feels Spoole trace over the tattoo on his arm with gentle, exploring fingers. “Because you’re a giant baby.”

“I resent that.”

“I’m sure you do, Adam.”

They go quiet. The noise from the living room comes in waves, and Adam can hear Joel’s boisterous laughter mixed with Bruce’s yelling. He still feels Spoole’s touch against his skin, feels the way he breathes when he leans back against him, and it feels so calm, so pleasant. It feels like home.

Adam lets out a quiet breath, pressing his lips against Spoole’s shoulder. “I love you.”