#kitweewoos

Working with Intelligence was a desk job. He was downstairs most of the time, behind his computer and waiting for the clock to tick by until he could leave and pick up Noah from school - he was going to be ten in a month, and he'd started calling Mouse dad over the summer after the man who had taken his family from him was caught and convicted, something that he found himself not hating. In fact, if he asked for a favor, Trudy could pull some strings and call some friends and speed up the process that would make the statement a legal fact. He considered it, when he made his way to the front desk with the paperwork that needed her signature, a request from Voight for some new supplies. It could be a short conversation, just a passing mention until they had time to talk about it later.

Instead, all hell broke loose, and he found himself with a gun to his own head with the paperwork and planned conversation completely forgotten. Mouse knew he should have been more worried about the arm around his chest and the barrel against his temple, about the fact that his life could be ended in an instant, but all he'd been able to think about was the routine he was used to. He was going to be late picking up his son from school. Someone had to make sure Noah got home to their apartment safely, and he couldn't even ask anyone to do him the favor when he was locked inside an office and the only company he had had made it clear that he was armed and potentially dangerous.

Thank god for Jay Halstead. Though maybe that wave of emotion would be easier to handle if it didn't come with the longing he'd been pushing down for years, since that day in November when his life was saved by a little luck and the right timing.

Things were only okay again for a little while. There were some tough cases, a few nights when he had to get home late and immediately wanted nothing more than to sit on the couch with his kid and watch a movie, or plan a fun weekend with ice cream at the pier, or just hold on to the peaceful safety that existed within the walls of their home. Nothing could get them there - not disappointed parents, or killers, or even the chill that came with a Chicago winter. That taste of safety every night was all it took for him to know that he wanted it forever, wanted Noah to never remember a life without it, and it was becoming increasingly clear that couldn't happen in Chicago.

He saw an infant abandoned by the people who were supposed to take care of them the same week he finished the paperwork to submit it to make the adoption official.

Less than a month later, Justin Voight was discovered in the trunk of a car with too many wounds to count, and they all had to watch their sergeant grieve a child he never should have outlived.

They all knew what happened after that, even if no one said it out loud. They didn't know the details about it, and no one asked for anything they didn't already know. Mouse couldn't even pretend he didn't agree with the action that Voight had taken - maybe, in another life, he would have been more judgmental, but then he thought of his own son at home, the life he was responsible for. If anyone laid a hand on Noah, he probably would have killed them, too.

Somehow, none of that was the last straw. Chicago was still home, where their family was - after dad, it wasn't long before the people around them were referred to with their own titles. Uncle Jay and Auntie Kim and, well, Trudy was still just Trudy, after they'd been unsubtly warned that she was not anyone's grandmother. They still belonged there, with their family and their support system.

At least, that was the belief he held until the yearning in his chest became too painful again.

Mouse had been able to hold his unrequited feelings for years, make them his own problem and no one else's. For a while, they were at the bottom of his list of priorities - he'd been adjusting to being a father, without a lot of guidance or even memories of his own parents that were remotely helpful, and trying to keep his job with the CPD so that his schedule was as regular as it could be, and it was really hard to focus on how deeply in love he was with his best friend when he had so much else on his plate.

Then Jay was talking about moving in with Erin when he was over for a pre-season hockey game, and the bagels with pizza sauce and cheese tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He'd pushed down the feelings and ignored them for so long that he'd forgotten they existed until some new piece of reality made his stomach churn. It was easier when he could pretend - pretend that being just friends was enough, pretend that the on-again-off-again relationship he watched from the outside would be permanently off one day, pretend that his best friend taking a serious step in his relationship didn't feel like a stab to his chest.

Between the violence, and the death, and the ache, Chicago had stopped feeling like home. So, as soon as arrangements could be made to break his lease, and he had enough cushion in his bank account for the drive, he packed up everything they had into the car. They probably should have gotten out of the city a long time ago, escaped the trauma they both suffered within the city limits. They'd both lost their parents, though in very different ways, and a desk job with the police department was only safe until it wasn't.

Even if he was never held hostage again, there were risks Mouse didn't want to take. Noah had already lost so much, and the last thing he needed to worry about was losing another parent. Besides, they'd be in California before his eleventh birthday, and it would only be a few years before he forgot about it all. There wouldn't be memories around every corner, and the people in their lives wouldn't be getting shot at for their job, and there wouldn't be the ghost of some possibility he couldn't act on following him around like a storm cloud.

Los Angeles would be good for both of them, he was sure.

"What about my friends? Jack said his mom was gonna help him pick out something really cool for my birthday."

With a frown and a sigh, Mouse made sure Noah was safely buckled into his seat and had a water bottle within reach. "I'll talk to his mom and see what we can do about that. And you'll make lots of new friends when we get to LA who you can invite to your birthday party."

"I don't wanna move."

He bit his tongue and and leaned into the car enough to press a soft kiss to Noah's hairline. He'd known it wouldn't go over well, moving all the way to the coast with less than a month of proper notice, but he was trying to put on a brave face. For the last few weeks, he'd been avoiding having much time alone with Kim or Trudy, and for a few days, he was avoiding Jay entirely. They all wanted to convince him to stay, wanted to keep both of them in the family that Chicago had built. He'd even gotten a few texts from Will and Connor about getting together for dinner before the move, not that he'd taken them up on it. He had to go, and nothing was going to stop him from doing his best to take care of himself and the child he'd been tasked with looking after for almost four years.

"Sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to do. Like how Uncle Jay helped us get the car ready."

As if on cue, the trunk was closed over bags of clothes and boxes of books, everything that would fit arranged like a game of Tetris. Jay emerged from where he'd been unintentionally hidden behind the car, shaking his head with a smile that was more than a little forced. As least he wasn't the only one putting on a mask for the sake of the child in his life. It hadn't taken much convincing to get the help, which made him anxious - it meant he might still get talked into sticking around, and now he didn't even have an apartment to do that in. Spending any time alone with Jay was exactly what he still wanted to avoid. Even looking him in the eye hurt, the ache stronger and louder than ever when he remembered that Jay's own apartment, the one he'd crashed on the couch of too many times to count, was also in the past. He lived with Erin now, his girlfriend, the woman he had drunkenly brought up marrying one night when they were on the phone. They were both moving forward. Mouse was just adding distance to that, too.

"Is Uncle Jay gonna come see us? Maybe he can come to my birthday, too!"

It was a reasonable request, actually. Jay had showed up at their apartment every year on the same day, bringing coffee and cocoa from the café down the street bright and early, and stayed through dinner so that Noah could unwrap a gift and they could all have ice cream for dessert. Except that visit was going to happen every year on that day regardless of when his birthday fell, because it wasn't about that, not really.

It was about the night four months before the child entered either of their lives, when Mouse had made a decision about his own life, and the end of it, and Jay had gotten to his apartment just in time to get him to the hospital on time.

It was still an anniversary without the birthday to distract them from it, and there hadn't been a single one that Jay hadn't been there for.

"I don't think I'll be able to come all the way to California this year. Next year, definitely, but we can Skype this year instead. How's that sound?"

The words earned him a heavy sigh and a pout, and if they were being honest with themselves, tears probably weren't very far off. It was a big move, and an even bigger change, but they would be okay. They just had to get to the other side of it, first.

"We'll try to come back and visit Uncle Jay before then. You won't have to wait a whole year to see him again." Mouse shook his head and sighed when the eyes that usually looked up at him with wonder and awe were quickly turned away. He couldn't remember the last time Noah refused to even look at him, and maybe it was something as meaningless as the ratio between cereal and milk being off one morning. That was what he was used to, domestic life with easy to solve problems like getting a new bowl for breakfast, not being brushed off and potentially being ignored for an entire road trip. When he gently closed the car door and got no response, Mouse sighed again and bit the inside of his lip, shaking his head.

"He'll get over it." Jay stepped closer with a lowered voice, offering up a weak smile that was only slightly less forced than the last one. "He's a kid. As soon as he realizes how close he'll be living to Disneyland, he's going to forget about how much he misses it here. Just... can you tell me why, before you go? Why do you have to go all the way to California to get a fresh start?"

Mouse shook his head and looked away to avoid meeting his friend's gaze directly. It was a conversation he never wanted to have, never wanted to even hint at. The complicated truth would ruin everything between them, and even with the physical distance that would make keeping up difficult, he didn't want to lose his best friend over something he should have been able to handle on his own. He wouldn't let that loss for both of them be his fault.

"Jay..."

"It has to be big for you to do something like this, right? Talk to me. I just want to understand."

"I can't. If I do... you won't want to keep in touch." Shaking his head again, Mouse took a deep breath and glanced through the window of the car, where Noah was still pointedly looking away and likely paying no attention to what they were discussing. Still, he continued on in a whisper, just loud enough to be heard, just in case. "I can't do that to him. He loves you."

"I will still keep in touch, and visit when I can. I know he's going to miss everyone here. I would never just cut him off, either of you. So why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"Because I do, too."

They were both quiet for a long time, Jay trying to catch his gaze while he looked anywhere but straight ahead. It was a big admission, but at least he didn't have to live in the awkwardness of it forever. In a matter of seconds, he could be in the driver's seat and start down the road, and he'd never see Jay Halstead ever again. Maybe that would hurt less than trying to keep their friendship alive.

"Look..."

"Greg-"

"I know what I feel. And I know that you don't feel the same way. That's fine. I just... I need a little space right now, okay? I thought I would get over it and I just..." Mouse made himself stand up straighter, finally looking over to meet the wide eyes aimed so steadily on him. "I'm not mad. I'm not expecting anything from you. I never have, and I never will. But how was I supposed to bring this up? When was I supposed to bring this up? It's not your problem. It's mine. I just... all I ask is that we still keep in touch."

"Yeah, of course."

Jay's arm moved just enough that he could see it out of the corner of his eye, like he wanted to reach out but didn't quite finish the gesture. That made sense. Jay and the rest of his family had always been more touchy than he was. They hugged, pat each other on the back, bumped shoulders. Mouse was different, he didn't like to be touched like that, like it was a casual thing that didn't have to mean anything. The idea of it was too overwhelming, too assuming for him to ever reach out for something on his own. It was always Jay who initiated it, who was right by his side when he needed support, who had hugged him after the awful brunch with his parents, who had held his hand in the hospital a week and a half later so he wasn't alone. The distance he was putting between them would take all of that away, too.

"I... I know I'm the one asking for space, and taking it, but I... this can't be a goodbye. My feelings are my own, and you don't owe me anything, and I am trying to let go of them and move on because we both deserve that, it's..." Mouse paused for a moment, not looking away while he gave a small shake of his head. "If I let go of you now... then I'm letting go of you forever. And I don't know... I don't know if I can do that just yet."

This time, the movement in his peripheral vision didn't stutter stop after only a moment. Instead, two familiar arms went around him, and Mouse found himself leaning into the embrace, his chin resting on Jay's shoulder while he tried to keep his face neutral. It didn't matter if it couldn't be seen. If he let himself smile, let himself enjoy it, it would only hurt that much more when they had to let go.

"Drive safe, okay?"

Mouse had managed to avoid anyone from his previous life in Chicago for almost four months. He could ignore texts and phone calls, focus his attention on finding an apartment and a job, and pretend there was no old life to acknowledge in the first place. But there were only so many texts and calls he could ignore before they started coming from other people, too. It was probably only a matter of time before officers showed up at his door for a wellness check.

Besides, even using what disposable income he had to buy something that would get him around the city didn't completely distract him from the ache he still lived with.

He could have taken the offer to ride out to the property with Kim and Adam, meet their daughter during the drive that would take a few hours, but he was still trying to stick to his plan. He didn't want to get comfortable in that old life again, not when he would be ignoring everyone again after the wedding. He didn't even really want to go to the wedding, but it would have been cruel to deny his best friend his support, and he was hurt, not cruel. Just the weekend around everyone would be too much, and he was thankful that he'd have a hotel room to himself - a perk of not having a plus one to bring along.

Instead, he took his impulse purchase of a motorcycle on the road. He had to drive from Chicago to Wisconsin, to the cabin he'd actually been to once. It was hours of feeling the wind, listening to nothing else but the rush of air, and feeling the hum of the bike underneath him. It was great, more than enough to focus on that wasn't where he was going and what he would be there to do. It wasn't a perfect distraction, but it wasn't like he could go around hooking up with random guys all over the city. One rejection too many had stopped that habit in its tracks.

Riding alone to the property also meant that Mouse could time things so that he was a little late. Being late meant he could avoid seeing anyone when he showed up. The wedding and reception would be at the cabin, and from what he understood, Jay and Hailey would be spending their honeymoon there, too. But that meant everyone else had to stay off site, both before and after the ceremony. The details were vague, but the hotel rooms were a treat from Will, something about some reward from an FBI investigation, not that he'd asked any questions about it. If he could help it, he wouldn't talk about or to Will Halstead all weekend long.

At least, that was the plan until he met Jay in the lobby.

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for the last two hours."

"I can't see my notifications when I'm on my bike. I was focusing on the road."

"Yeah. Thanks for being safe," Jay said while he stepped forward, holding out a key card with a small frown. "That doesn't change the fact that there was an issue with the booking. I told Will to add another room, and he said he did, but then the hotel was overbooked-"

"Jay, hold on." Mouse took the key while he shook his head, his helmet tucked under his arm. "What does that mean? Who am I bunking with? Please don't say Kim and Adam..."

"First of all, Mack is more than old enough to sleep through the night, but no. We already had to put Kevin with them. We're three rooms short from what Will booked."

"Okay. So who am I stuck with?"

"Will."

The answer made him pause, and he almost handed the key back so that he could go back out to his bike. He would find his own motel room down the road for the weekend, get the solitude that he needed, and have minimal interaction with the rest of the wedding party. But that would be really hard to explain to Jay. What would he even say? No, I can't room with your brother. I tried to hook up with him and he rejected me so I can't actually look him in the eye ever again, let alone be alone in a room with him.

"And it was the last room they had available, so it's not very big. Not even a kitchenette."

"Okay? I'll eat plenty at the reception, then, and order in if I need to."

"Are you sure? It's really small. There's no couch or anything."

"Jay, I have shared a bunk with you under worse circumstances. I'm sure it will be fine. We'll barely be in there anyway."

"And there's only one bed."

No.

He probably could have handled sharing a hotel room under most circumstances. Will was the best man, and Mouse had his own tight schedule with being a part of the wedding party himself. They wouldn't have any time to be alone together when they were actually awake. Falling asleep in the same room and sharing a bathroom wasn't anything more than he'd done with members of his unit overseas. He'd even done it more than once with Jay when they'd come home again. But sharing a bed with the person who had pushed him away and rejected his advances was too far, even for him.

The second to last thing he wanted to do was be stuck in a room with Will Halstead all weekend. The last thing he wanted to do was get back into the same bed as him. He wouldn't survive the weekend if it came to that - at least, he wouldn't want to survive the weekend. Mouse would be watching the man who loved him get married to someone else, and have to sleep next to the man who had rejected even a single night of his company the entire time. Every new piece of information he got about the weekend only made things so much worse.

"Jay, when have I ever had an issue sharing a bed with someone? Besides, as a groomsman, I have a duty to the universe to get laid this weekend."

-

After using the card to open the door, Mouse leaned in the doorway itself so that he could peer into the room. He faced exactly what he expected to find there.

Will was sitting in the middle of the bed, his laptop perched on his knees while he held a pencil between his teeth. There were sheets of paper and a notebook on top of the blankets, spread out so that every scribble on them could be seen. He didn't even look up when the lock clicked or the door creaked open, at least not that Mouse could tell. He was entirely caught up in what he was doing, not even lifting his gaze when he opened his jaw to drop the pencil into his lap, and it was more attractive than it should have been. It wasn't fair.

"Jay, you might just have to consider that he won't be here tonight. Mouse is a grown adult and he's allowed to be late if something came up."

"I had to stop for gas. I'm not that late, am I?"

Familiar brown eyes finally looked up at him, tearing away from the computer screen for the first time since he'd entered the room. He still hadn't entered, really, lingering half in the doorway and half in the hall. Entering the room fully was dangerous. He could be told to leave, or rejected again, or told off. Leaving in the morning was his oldest habit, but he knew it could hurt from the other side of things. He'd gotten that rant in the middle of a bar before getting a drink thrown in his face. He hurt people, and he felt bad about it, and it would be more than reasonable if Will wanted nothing to do with him.

"Thank god you're here." There was some scrambling, ruffling of papers, long legs in grey sweatpants emerging from the form on the bed so that he could stand up. "I'm trying to finish planning Jay's bachelor party, and some asshole rode in here on the loudest motorcycle I've ever heard in my life. Can you do me a favor and figure out who it is? And tell them off for me? Use some made up army story to scare them, or something, I have work to do."

With a weak smile, Mouse straightened up so he could step into the room completely. He lifted the arm that had been hidden by the doorframe, the helmet he wore when he was riding in his hand. It was half an explanation and half an apology, the words coming out slow and hesitant. "Can't I just say my bad and buy you coffee in the morning, or something?"

Will stared at him for a long moment, blinking while he took in what he saw. The last time he'd seen Mouse, he had been drunk in his bed, wearing jeans and a patterned shirt buttoned up halfway. Now, he was sober and upright, the same jeans on, a different patterned shirt, and a leather jacket that he'd bought mostly as a joke. It just happened to look good on him, so it got worn more than he'd originally intended.

"Since when do you ride a bike like that? Last I heard, Jay was calling you a stereotype and refusing to let you even pass him the keys."

Shrugging, he walked far enough into the room to let the door swing shut behind him. They were properly alone, then, for the first time in more than half a year. It felt normal, as long as he didn't think about it too hard. "I got a good deal on it. It helped that my name is still legally Gregory Gerwitz. With the number on the end. It still means something, to some people."

"At least this time, when someone called you a parent's name, it wasn't in the throes of passion. I assume."

Mouse bit his tongue at the reminder of his weekend in Atlanta, not letting any of it show on his face while he gathered the energy to respond. If he wasn't successful, Will was at least respectful enough not to acknowledge it. "The saleswoman wasn't really my type, no."

"Well, that's something, at least."

"At least." Slowly, Mouse walked across the room to put his bag down next to the desk. He hesitated for a moment before setting his helmet on top of it and taking a seat in the nearby chair. If things between them hadn't been such a mess, he would have sat down on the bed, especially when they were going to be sharing it for multiple nights. He couldn't stop to think about that for very long, or else he'd remember how long it had been since he'd done something like that - which was never. One night was his maximum, historically, and that was something that almost everyone at the wedding that weekend knew. He didn't commit, even temporarily, and he'd left his comfort zone back in Chicago.

"If you need to rest after driving all day, I can finish party planning tomorrow. You might have more ideas than I do, actually."

Mouse watched him for a long moment, his eyes following Will's hands while he gathered up papers and closed his laptop. The last time there had been one queen bed between them, they hadn't exactly shared it, and there hadn't been any part of him that actually wanted to try to navigate that situation again. It was too terrifying to think about, especially when it would be entirely reasonable to throw him out of the hotel room. It wasn't like he was paying for a single penny of the weekend. He'd only rented his tux, and he had to give it back as soon as he was back in the city.

"What?" Will met his gaze with a small smile, shaking his head. "Am I going to wake up to you ignoring my texts and calls for six months again? I don't think that would go over well with Jay. We both have a wedding to be a part of this weekend, and that's kind of hard to do when you're avoiding me, isn't it?"

Dropping his gaze to the carpet at his feet, he bit his tongue and took a slow, deep breath. "You took up a lot of that bed just sitting on it. Is there going to be any room for me? Or are you going to go down the hall and borrow someone's couch?"

"Mouse, if this is because I didn't sleep with you-"

"You didn't even want to breathe the same air as me. It was a little offensive. But you did help prove my point, so thanks for that."

"You were drunk."

"That didn't sway you when we were making out in your kitchen."

"I made a poor decision. Those are allowed every once in a while. I changed my mind when the situation changed."

"Right, my bad." Standing up, Mouse grabbed his helmet with a frown and avoided looking over toward the bed. "You were fine with it until I reminded you that I'm just your brother's whore of a best friend. And then the idea of touching me became the worst idea ever. Fuck this. I'll get a room down the street. And don't worry about planning for me at the bachelor party. I'll make sure I stay far away from you."

"Mouse, wait a minute-"

"Why?" He stopped halfway to the door again, trying to hide how his hands shook. "It isn't enough to make me feel like ass. You have to keep rubbing it in? Can't I just leave without you drawing it out? Do you really hate me that much?"

The quiet that fell between them came on suddenly, and lingered for longer than it needed to. Mouse had plenty of time to flee, and he almost did, except he felt frozen in place. His feet wouldn't move, no matter how much he tried to order them otherwise. It meant he was standing in the exact same spot when Will finally spoke up, keeping his face carefully blank. He was good at that, not showing everything he felt. Practice had made it easy.

"Because... I know what it's like. To have someone have sex with you when they don't actually want you."

"Yeah, whatever, I heard about the failed wedding to Natalie. That's not really the same thing."

"I'm not talking about Natalie. I'm talking about the boyfriend I had in college."

That was almost enough to make him drop the bag in some kind of shock. It would be rude, but that didn't mean it didn't almost happen. After hearing about girlfriends like Nina and Natalie and Hannah, the idea of Will Halstead being in any kind of relationship with another man didn't cross his mind. After the night that ended in rejection, Mouse pointedly made sure he didn't think about anything close. A college boyfriend was further out of left field than a foul home run.

"Excuse me?"

"His name was Matt." Will let out a slow breath and looked down at his hands, his voice low. It sounded as careful and controlled as Mouse was desperate for, and it made him stay quiet so that he could just listen. "It was the first time I was ever with a guy. I met him at a party, and I was... pretty drunk, actually."

Slowly, Mouse lowered his bag to the floor again and bit the inside of his cheek while he frowned. "Like... two shots, four beers, and whatever the drink was that Adam bought us a round of drunk?"

"Not quite. More like... my first two beers ever drunk. And I let him convince me to go upstairs to his room. And it was... not great. But it was my first time, right? I thought it was going to get better the more we did it. It didn't. But, hey, at least someone wanted me."

Will finally looked up at him again when he took a small step toward the bed. He wasn't ready to close the space completely, especially when there was so little space to begin with. It was too soon, even if he could read the tone of the room, and nothing between them was actually fixed. He still wanted to run, wanted to get on his bike and go all the way back to Chicago, or further, and rushing whatever this was wouldn't make that urge any easier to ignore.

"And then what? He said your mom's name in bed?"

"Actually, he proposed to my cousin." The words were said with a small smirk, and Will actually met his gaze again as evenly as ever. It almost felt like any other conversation they'd had before the night of the engagement party, easy and natural. "And the worst part is, I was still letting him fuck me every weekend. I knew he was a piece of shit who didn't want me, and I still put myself through that regularly. And I felt worse about it every time. And I didn't even enjoy it. So, no, Mouse, I don't hate you. I just don't think that anyone should ever have to feel like that."

Mouse was the one who looked away, then, staring down at the shoes on his feet with a frown. He tried to take a deep breath, but it was like his body didn't let him. His lungs didn't want to fill up all the way, and the air stopped halfway down his throat, and he was trying to hide how much it physically hurt to stand there and listen to a story that cut into him so deeply. It hurt because he'd been there, because he knew exactly why someone would give, and give, and give, even at the cost of themselves, just to feel like they were wanted for a night or two.

He moved slowly, added his helmet back to his pile of things and toeing out of his shoes. There was no way he would be getting in bed yet, not when the floor looked perfectly comfortable from where he was standing, but he didn't really want to leave. Whether Will wanted to have sex with him or not, there were very few times when he actually wanted to leave someone. That was a habit of self preservation. Leaving hurt less than being pushed out.

"I, uh... I threw up."

Looking up from what he was doing, Mouse didn't look at Will directly while he shook his head. He didn't want to think about that weekend at all, let alone talk about it. It was something that only came up in his nightmares, especially when he pulled back from his usual weekly activities like alcohol and casual sex. Still, he forced himself to continue. If Will was going to open up to him, he should do a little bit in return, and building on what he'd already let slip was the safest way to do that without ripping open even more wounds.

"In Atlanta. He got off, I didn't. So, I excused myself to the bathroom to hide, and I threw up. And then... he was done with me, so I left. I took the hottest shower the plumbing would let me have, and... I threw up again. And I didn't sleep that night."

He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets just to have something to do with them, and his fingers were shaking too much to let them stay visible. His reputation was to sleep around and not care about any of it. Countless nights had been spent in countless beds, and he had fun. He enjoyed every second of it. Thinking about it for too long didn't make him feel sick, or like he wanted to cry, or like he wished that Jay had never shown up at his apartment on that cold November night. Sex was fun, and exciting, and took him higher than any opioid ever had.

He just had to ignore how much harder he crashed back down.

Will was quiet for a long moment, seeming to wait in case he wanted to say anything else. He didn't, but he appreciated the few extra seconds to gather his thoughts. There wasn't anything else to say. The experience had lasted less than a night, and he had shared every detail of it worth forgetting. And then the quiet lasted almost too long before Will dared to finally break it.

“If you still want to leave, I can cover the room for you. You were promised a free weekend in a hotel. It seems unfair to make you pay for it just because this hotel is overbooked.”

With a weak smile that appeared no matter how hard he tried to bite it back, Mouse slowly shook his head. He could survive being a little uncomfortable for a weekend. He was there for Jay’s big day, and it would be rude to make it about himself. “That seems a little silly, now, doesn’t it? No, I’ll stay. That chair seemed pretty comfortable, and I’ve slept in worse positions. Don’t go out of your way for me.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Will stood up slowly, just enough to move his laptop and the papers that went with it to a surface that wasn’t the bed. He turned to look at Mouse, after that, confusion clear in the eyes that swept over him. “No. You’re not sleeping in the chair. I didn’t offer to share a room with you just so you could sleep in a desk chair. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Mouse blinked at him and frowned at the words. Nothing had been said to him about an offer to share the tiny room. The way Jay explained it, it seemed more like they were the last two who didn’t come with a built in group of friends to bunk with.

“If I take the bed, where are you going to sleep?”

“I know you’re an only child, but there’s this thing the rest of us learned when we were three called sharing.”

He frowned at the hint of sarcasm in the words, though it probably lost a lot of its conviction when his eyes landed on the teasing smile. Mouse was reminded, ever so suddenly, that he was in a room with a Halstead. There were plenty of differences between the brothers, but a lot of their expressions were the same. That smirk, with the fond look that went with it, was not unfamiliar to him after spending so many years in Jay’s life. It was a warm thing, something that made him feel closer to home than anything had in years.

“I kind of packed to spend the weekend alone. And I had to travel light because I can’t really carry a lot on my bike.” Mouse shook his head and desperately tried to keep his frown in place. “I don’t have anything to sleep in. Just my underwear. Isn’t that gonna be a little…?”

Will, in his mostly modest shirt and sweatpants, scoffed and shook his head quickly. “Mouse, I’ve felt your dick on my thigh. I can be an adult about you taking your shirt off if you can.”

He bit down on his lip to keep from making an instinctive comment. Something about how his dick had been on Will's thigh, but it would feel even better somewhere else, probably. It wouldn't make the weekend easier if he kept deflecting the conversation away from anything of substance. Sexual jokes and suggestive comments and speaking only in innuendo hadn't actually gotten him that far with one Halstead, and he doubted it would do anything to help his relationship with this one.

"Okay. But if, at any point, you feel weird about it-"

"Mouse," Will's voice was steady and calm, everything Mouse wasn't feeling in that moment, and the tone made him feel like he couldn't look away no matter how hard he tried. "I will give you a treat, if you just lay down and go to sleep."

What kind of treat?

The question had to be bit back just like everything else, some defense mechanism turned instinct nearly stronger than him. He could behave, for a weekend, and not make things between them any weirder than they already were. He could survive three nights without sticking his foot in his mouth, surely.

"A... treat? Will, I'm not a dog."

"I'm not going to comment on that one. Take your clothes off and get comfortable."

"Wow..."

"You know what I mean." Will narrowed his eyes at him and quickly shook his head. "I have an extra pair of sweats in my bag if you want something to wear. They might be a little long, but they're soft."

Mouse opened his mouth to respond and closed it again when he realized he didn't know what he even could say in that moment. He was still stunned by the revelation that sharing the room was an intentional choice instead of a result of bad luck. The idea of getting to wear something that didn't belong to him, intentionally, instead of just grabbing the wrong shirt off the floor, had stopped all of his thoughts in their tracks. Something was going to be willingly loaned to him, something that would smell like someone else, something that would be soft. That had never happened before.

"Oh... yeah, okay."

He was too dazed to do much more than obey. He let Will get up and get into his bag, pulling out the pants and holding them up where they could be seen. Mouse really wanted to accept the offer, and he told himself it was only because he hadn’t even been in the position to swipe the wrong shirt in the morning for months. He was allowed to want proof that another person had wanted to be near to him, even if it was only for a night.

He almost felt silly, going into the small bathroom to change. Sure, he’d stripped down to his underwear, but it was only long enough to pull on the borrowed pair of pants. He felt even sillier walking out, the waistband folded down twice, because they really were long, likely because of the near half a foot Will had on him when it came to their height.

He felt like a little kid, dressed up as something he wasn’t, and he tried to keep that feeling off of his face.

Climbing into bed under the blankets, Mouse stayed as close to the edge of the mattress as he could. More space between them meant there was less of a chance that something would happen. He wanted to make sure there was as much space between them as possible, so he could leave Wisconsin at the end of the weekend without embarrassing himself further.

The blankets were very still for a moment, the only sound in the room the offset patterns of their breathing. He'd failed at preventing the awkwardness between them, that much was clear, but he didn't know how to fix it. Luckily, it seemed like he didn't have to, not when Will was going to be the one to break the silence for him.

"About that treat... you know that college boyfriend I mentioned?"

Mouse frowned a bit in confusion at the sudden shift in mood, and did his best to shrug his shoulders in the position he was in. It wasn't like it had been that long since they'd discussed it, if it had really been a discussion at all. It was all still fresh, and he almost gritted his teeth at the reminder that Matt existed at all. He'd known the Halsteads for long enough that he could barely remember a time when he didn't. If there was anyone who deserved that kind of treatment less than Will, he didn't know them. "Yeah? What about him?"

"Well..." The bed shifted with the movement of the body behind him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of it. They weren't touching, not when he was so stiff where he was on the very edge of the mattress, and he trusted that Will wouldn't force anything. That was something most people understood after knowing him for a couple hours, let alone more than a decade. "He was working at Med, for a while. They hired him on after I, you know, got fired."

"I heard about that." He stayed on his side and took a slow breath. There hadn't been any details given to him when Jay had mentioned it, just the direction to go easy on him if Will showed up at Molly's that first weekend he was back. He did, but their conversation hadn't lasted long enough for the topic to come up. In the months since, Mouse had almost forgotten about it entirely. "Not about Matt, but about the getting fired thing. I didn't hear how it happened, but that kind of thing always sucks. How are you doing with that?"

"I'm working at Med again, that's actually where this starts. I went back to working there with the condition that I would keep an eye on Matt and what he was doing. That was... actually the FBI investigation I've been helping with. I helped get evidence of him taking kickbacks from a medtech company, and all the deaths that resulted from their product because they were cutting corners and pushing it when it wasn't necessary... but. That's where Matt is, now. Rotting in some federal prison. And I got a reward check for helping to put him there."

"Good." Mouse felt himself actually relax at the idea that someone like that was getting what he deserved. It was for something unrelated to being a bad partner, but it was still comeuppance. It was still justice, in its own way. "I hope he stays there. You didn't deserve anything that he did to you. A life in prison is the absolute least he deserves after all of that."

The quiet that fell between them wasn't as tense as it had been before. When the bed shifted again, Mouse stayed relaxed and comfortable. Even if he was still worried about things potentially being awkward, they'd moved past the worst of it, and things almost felt easy again. It was progress.

"I think you hated me when we met." Will's voice was quiet, not a whisper, but low, careful. He said it like a truth he'd never admitted before, and Mouse tried to cling to it as if that changed the truth of the words. "You barely looked at me, and you didn't even shake my hand when Jay introduced us. Now, you're defending me against an ex who doesn't even pose a threat to me anymore."

"You'd moved to New York and didn't come home when Jay needed you." Mouse's tone matched Will's, steady and careful and low when the quiet of the rest of the room meant that it would carry. "You hurt my best friend. Of course I hated you. You've grown on me, since then. Even if I did still hate you, which I don't, obviously, I wouldn't wish that kind of relationship on anybody."

"Right..."

The quiet lasted so long that Mouse almost thought he'd fallen asleep. It wouldn't have been awful, laying awake in the peaceful kind of dim lighting and the hum of the air conditioner under the window. He could have laid there for hours, with his eyes closed but his mind awake, and he wouldn't have regretted a single moment of it. The bed was warm and comfortable, and the company wasn't bad. Of all the people he could have shared a room with that weekend, he didn't think there were any better options.

After a few minutes, it was clear he wasn't the only one still awake. The sound of Will's voice wasn't startling, and the gentle press of fingers to Mouse's bare back was even lighter than he expected it to be. It was brief, barely more than a brush of skin against his own, but he felt it, and he couldn't remember the last time he didn't flinch when someone was that close.

"Look, I know Jay said you're not super into touching, or anything, but..."

"What do you need?" The question was almost instinct. The Halstead family was made up of huggers, something that Mouse had learned to live with over the years. Sometimes, they needed more than he was used to giving, and he adapted to that. He liked to be useful. Being useful meant he would get to stick around longer. If that required adapting and sacrificing his comfort for a hug or two a year, then so be it.

"I kind of want to hug you, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable. If you don't feel up for it, I'm not going to push."

"Will, I can handle a-"

"I don't want you to handle it, Mouse. I'm a grown adult. I can manage not getting a hug if that's not something you're able to give right now. It's been a long day. It would be completely reasonable to tell me to fuck off so you can sleep."

With a frown, Mouse shifted so he could partially hide his face in the pillow under it, as if he wasn't already turned away. His needs and wants were never taken into consideration, not when someone else needed him. That applied no matter how long his days were, or how exhausted he was, or how overwhelmed a situation made him. Will had been talking about the worst relationship he'd ever been in, and discussions like that usually called for some kind of comfort. A hug was a reasonable request. Weighing his own comfort level with that was an entirely new concept.

"Uh..." He trailed off and licked his lips when they felt dry, breathing in through his nose slowly. Once he could actually find his voice again, Mouse gave a short nod of his head. "I think I'm good. I'm a little stressed, because of the whole weekend, and the sharing the room thing, but a hug should be fine. I'll let you know if it's too much. I might not be very receptive, but... go ahead."

The touch returned to his back, feather light and careful, and Mouse had to bite down on his tongue to keep from shivering. With his eyes closed, it almost felt like most other nights he shared a bed. It wouldn’t end the same way, but the touch moved over his skin in a way that felt familiar. At least, it was just familiar enough that he didn't pull away. He wasn't entirely comfortable, but discomfort was a baseline that he had resigned himself to.

When Will's hand settled, it was the same kind of barely there touch, a palm and fingers spreading out over his bare abdomen. It was warm, like everything else, and Mouse squeezed his eyes shut tighter. When Will gently guided him back, he went willingly, until his back was pressed to the soft fabric of a well worn tee and the chest within in. He didn't breathe, he couldn't remember how, and instinct made him prepare for the touch to wander, prepare to give up whatever his partner of the night wanted.

It didn't.

Will's hand didn't move.

He just... held him there. Gently.

Since when was being held supposed to feel good?

Mouse hesitated before shifting some of his weight and, when he lifted his head to adjust how it rested on the pillow, an arm slid into the space to cushion it instead. For a few moments, he let the muscle and flesh act as a pillow without complaint, the warmth of another body so close the soothing kind of familiar that made it easy to relax. Jay had been right when he'd warned Will about Mouse being wary of touch. There were very few occasions where he allowed it at all, and it was something that his best friend only halfheartedly complained about. Usually, it meant no hugs, very few supportive pats to the back, nothing that the Halstead family did regularly. It threw off a normally regular rhythm in the lives of the people around him, but physical affection just wasn't something he was used to.

Growing up, an arm around his shoulders was an act. A hand ruffling his hair was dismissive. A kiss to his cheek when he was too young to leave his mother's side at fundraisers was something for the cameras. Physical affection wasn't real. It was just a way for his family to pretend that they cared, that they weren't capable of kicking him out of their lives the second he did something to disrupt all of their plans for his life.

This felt different.

Maybe it was because it was a Halstead. He'd never doubted that Jay cared about him, especially not when he was pulled into a hug in the middle of Molly's during his goodbye party. He knew that every supportive pat on the back or shoulder was genuine. He was fairly certain that Jay didn't know how to be fake. He'd make the same assumption about Will, but he was starting to learn that there were parts of him that no one got to see.

Shifting again, Mouse settled in closer and focused on his breathing. He wasn't uncomfortable, not really, but the feeling of someone else so close usually came with expectations. He was fighting the urge to roll over and offer himself up, to casually squirm until the sweats slid down off his hips and left more of him bare. But if there was one person in the world who didn't want him to do something like that, it was the person he was stuck with for the weekend.

"Can I ask you something?"

Will's voice was startlingly close, his breath stirring up the ends of his hair before it reached his ear. It was enough to make him tense up, and the arm already loose around him immediately gave him more room to move. He was still being held, but it would be easy to pull away when he wanted to, whenever that ended up being. Unable to find his voice right away, Mouse gave a slow nod of his head.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Still all but whispering, Will let out a slow breath - this time very pointedly aiming away from Mouse when he did so. "I'm just curious. About Atlanta... Did you know? About his ex?"

Mouse took a deep breath at the mention of the memory, and the hand at his abdomen started to pull away slowly. He didn't know where it came from, the foreign instinct to reach down and grab onto the hand before it could get too far. He even laced their fingers together, holding on as tightly as he dared while he kept his eyes closed. "I found out at the same point of the story that you did. So, the short answer? No. I didn't know."

The hold on him got tighter again, and he could feel the pressure that came from a face being tucked into his shoulder. It was a position that was as familiar as most other things about that moment. And he was still struggling with all the things that weren't as familiar.

"You're holding on pretty tight for someone who doesn't like to be touched."

"Please don't leave me alone again."

She couldn't resurrect anyone. She couldn't go back in time and stop anyone from pulling a trigger. She couldn't make any surgery go faster so that he could get updates. Of everyone who had been shot that night, exactly two of them had survived. With the FBI apparently watching his every move, he shouldn't go visit either one of them, but it had been a very long night already.

Nate had seen the aftermath of the massacre at the bakery, the flashing lights of the police cars and the ambulance. He didn't stick around long enough to figure out if anyone had survived, or who it would have been, not after he talked to his sister. His goal after that phone call was just to get to the hospital, to be there when his mother and Constantine got out of surgery. The last thing he'd been letting himself think about was the massacre - most likely, based on what carnage he'd seen, no one had survived that. Gus, Stavos, Gio...

He could internalize those losses while he sat by his mother's bed and waited for her to open her eyes. As long as he had something else to focus on, the rest of his grief could wait. He could mourn as soon as his heart stopped racing, as soon as he stopped holding his breath.

Except, the mourning started before he was ready for it.

The flatline was still ringing in his ears while he sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair. He'd shrugged his flannel shirt off when things felt more than a little overwhelming, and it had started in his lap. During the time he sat there - he could have been minutes, or hours, or even days - it had slid off of his knee enough to brush the floor with one of the hanging sleeves, and he didn't have the energy to change that. Every inch of him was exhausted, and it didn't feel like he should have any tears left. Surely, the pain was bad enough that he should have been more than numb.

When the chair next to him moved and he felt the gentle squeeze to his shoulder, Nate made himself look up. There was nothing left of him to be surprised when he saw his sister there, the weak offer of support the best either of them could muster. No one could expect anything more, not after the day they'd had - the truth about Constantine's connection to their family, the shock of both attacks, the sudden wave of grief that came with their mother's death, the knowledge that the death toll was so much higher than anyone wanted it to be...

Grace had mentioned, when he arrived, that there was one survivor from the attack on the bakery. He hadn't asked who it was, and she hadn't had time to keep him updated before she ran off to handle something else. And he understood that, with everything else going on. Someone had to check on Constantine, and field questions from the FBI agent who was poking around. He didn't need to know who it was then. He wasn't even thinking about it.

But getting the news when he had just recovered from his latest bout of sobs was more overwhelming than he could have imagined.

Gio.

Of all the people they'd lost over the span of a few months, the trigger he'd pulled himself, the bombs and the kidnapping and the horse that had nearly gotten him killed, he didn't know he was still able to feel relief. So much of it seemed stupid and avoidable when he looked back at it, and the things that were too big to be avoided weighed heavier on his shoulders. He still had someone left besides his sister and Constantine, and that was more than he knew he had any right to ask for.

Nate should have avoided visiting, with a federal agent lurking around the hospital hallways, and it would only put an even bigger target on his back. It would probably put a bigger target on Gio’s back, too, which wasn’t recommended when he was recovering from three gunshot wounds. But where else was he supposed to be?

His mother was dead.

Grace was balancing Constantine and the FBI.

Everyone else had been shot down in the bakery.

The only place it made sense for him to be was sitting at another bedside. He even took a moment to silently thank God that Gio was awake when he slipped into the room. Awake and responsive was good, even if they spent their shared time in silence. They had the beeping of the heart monitor, and the hum of the lights overhead, and steady breathing. It was a lot better than sitting in a silent hallway where he was stuck in his own head. Out there, it was all storm clouds and thunder. At least that room had a silver lining.

Nothing about the lack of conversation worried him. Nate had been a part of the group for long enough, had interacted with the man in front of him more times than he could count, and that was just how things were. Sure, Gio liked to talk when he had something to say, but too much had happened. No one had anything to say about the events of that night, let alone the last few days, not even someone who typically had a comment for everything.

Nate probably still had tearstains on his cheeks, and his eyes still felt puffy, and were definitely still red. There weren't many people who would want to talk to him when he looked like that. Most people would want to be careful about what they said and be too afraid to say anything at all, and he had resigned himself to the quiet that came with new grief. Still, it wasn't that surprising when the voice came from the bed and pulled him out of a daze.

"How bad is it, kid? How many did we lose?"

It took a few tries for him to make sound come out. His mouth was open, but it didn't work as readily as he'd like it to. Listing all the losses of the night, both the lives and the fights they didn't know they were in, would be too exhausting. They'd already lost so much. He was desperately trying to cling to the few good things he could claw from the rubble his life had become.

"It's uh... you, me, Constantine. We're the only ones left."

"Fuck..."

They fell back into the quiet that they'd created before, the air heavier with the truth in it. Nate felt the shift in his gut that came with it - feeling both more and less alone in his little corner of the universe. Saying it made it true. There were less than a handful of people left that he could trust, and that was even including himself. But at least the grief was shared, split between the two of them instead of weighing only on his shoulders. It was another small wave of relief that felt impossible, especially when it was accompanied by the regret of having to share the news at all. Gio could have gotten better rest and had a smoother recovery if he'd said nothing. Grief and stress could make things harder, or something like that. He was struggling to remember what Grace had told him over the years, different pieces of advice getting twisted up with other ones.

"Well, chin up, kid. It could have been worse." He glanced toward the bed to see a familiar smirk, something that had been constant through the last few months of his life. Usually, it came with a lewd comment, or some story that he couldn't stop himself from telling for the third time. It was almost comforting to see, a reminder of what he still had to ground him in the middle of the earthquake of everything else. "You could have been stuck with a buzzkill like Stavos. At least I know how to have fun. Everything will be back to normal in no time."

Nate tried to return the expression, he really did. But the idea of normal that he'd had in his head couldn't ever really come back. He wouldn't be able to go home to his mother's cooking ever again. He wouldn't be able to sit at the table for a game of poker or go for a walk without looking over his shoulder. He would probably be lucky if he managed to drag himself out of the hospital once the night was over instead of wasting away right there in the chair.

He wanted to be a part of the light teasing, the easy energy that came with every ridiculous conversation he had with Gio, but that was hard. The whole truth was still close to his chest, pulling him down too far into the darkness to reasonably reach for the light.

"Yeah... normal..."

"C'mon, no one with us is worth your tears. We'll be fine."

Hiding his feelings used to be easier. The tears on his face didn't help when he was trying to put an uncaring mask in place, the air of nonchalance he'd learned over the years of working with and around mobsters. He was too much of a mess to be relaxed about any part of it. Gio was alive, but so was his mother, and they thought things were going to be fine. Should he really get attached to this new version of his life before it settled? Or was he getting ahead of himself and welcoming more grief into his future?

He knew he was a mess before it was even brought up, before he was called out on it and had the fact presented to him so bluntly. The rest of the mess had brought him along with it, and he hadn't seen the point in trying to clean himself up yet. No one but Grace was really going to see him like that, and it was still up on the air on whether or not he cared about Gio seeing him like that, too.

"Any other losses you need to get off your chest, kid? Is your sister okay?"

"Grace is fine." That was the truth, at least when it came to physical injuries. He wasn't the only one grieving a mother, and she had even more on her plate after talking about Constantine. Nate was in pain, but he wouldn't pretend that he was the only one in pain, or that his pain outweighed anyone else's. "But, uh... they followed Constantine to the house. Shot it up. He's out of surgery and he's supposed to be okay, but my mom..."

The words caught in his throat, and Nate quickly looked down at his hands so that they didn't escape with a new round of tears. He didn't think he was capable of sobbing anymore, not without a good twelve hours of sleep, but his eyes found a way to make more tears no matter how many he'd already shed.

"Hey..."

He didn't have to move his head to see the hand at the edge of vision. That hand had been on the bed just a few seconds earlier, minding its own business instead of intruding on his grief. Now, it was stretched out toward him, an offering of comfort when he didn't know where to look to ask for it. It was something he didn't know he desperately wanted to cling to until he took what was offered, curling his fingers around a warm, alive hand. It was the eye of the storm, a brief pause before everything went to hell again. It was enough.

"That's rough. I'm sorry."

The fingers squeezed his gently.

"Don't worry. If you need anything, you've got me behind you. You and Grace both."

Another squeeze to his hand reminded him to breathe, and Nate slowly shook his head. He took a few moments to breathe again, a big, deep breath that he needed just to find his voice again. It kept escaping him, running away when he needed it most, and it wasn't a solid thing he could cling to like the hand in his and the body attached to. It was a flighty thing, something he was still trying to pin down after years of practice. He could act tough, like the job he didn't wasn't dangerous and didn't risk his life on a daily basis - or at least like he didn't notice or care. Death was a terrifying thing he had to look in the eye and face down more often than he liked, and it was getting all too close. It kept coming in and taking people away from him, and there were only so many losses he could handle on his own. There were too many to carry, and it was only a matter of time before he was next on Death's list.

"That seems like a lot to take on, when there's rebuilding to worry about. And you almost died. You shouldn't be worrying about anyone else-"

"Kid," Gio cut him off sharply, "you're family. I'd crawl out of a grave if it meant helping out when you need something."

The words made Nate pause, biting the inside of his lip to keep from saying something without thinking. The idea of still having a family when all that was left of his own was himself and his sister was odd, but comforting, like the hand he was still holding onto just a bit too tight. He should let go, he knew that, but he really didn't want to. If he let go, the last few good things in his life might burn down, too.

"I'll try not to be too needy while you're stuck in a hospital bed."

That was enough to draw out a laugh that ended with a cough and a quiet wheeze, and he was quick to let go of the hand in his so that the newest problem could be taken care of. He didn't mean to cause this kind of reaction, and there was very little he could actually do that was helpful.

"Damn, Devlin, I just got shot in the chest. You can't make me laugh, of all things." But Gio was smiling, and still trying to hold back his reaction to the comment, not that Nate really understood what was so funny in the first place. "Or maybe it's impressive that you got me to laugh, considering almost everyone we know is dead."

Nate couldn't help the small expression that tugged at the corner of his mouth, though he didn't know if his own weak shadow of a smile counted for much. He didn't really feel better about anything, and he doubted that would change any time soon, but it was nice to have a little proof that he wasn't alone in any of it. He had Grace at his side when they needed to grieve the more normal side of their lives, and Gio for when he needed to grieve the crazy parts. That counted for something.

"How impressive is it, really? You laugh in your own face in the mirror. Though, I see why."

"Low blow, kid. Leave my face out of this. It didn't do anything to you." Gio waved a hand in his direction, the familiar smile growing further into his cheeks. "And it is impressive. Tonight was a shit show, and that's putting it lightly. Seriously, you should get an award for managing this. As soon as I'm out of here, I'm getting you a prize."

Nate felt his own smile widen while he shook his head, leaning forward in his seat. It was an automatic reaction, something that hadn't been entirely uncommon in the last few weeks. Since they had to start covering for each other's felonies regularly, they'd gotten closer, formed an actual friendship outside of the bonds that came with what they did for a living. As awful as it might sound, there was a part of him that was glad that, if only one person could have survived the attack on the bakery, he wanted it to be Gio.

"What kind of prize would I even get for this? A plastic statue with a cheap engraving? A gold medal that's actually chocolate?"

"A chocolate medal? No, it'll be way cooler than that."

They were quiet again while he seemed to genuinely think about the options he had as potential prizes. He'd have plenty of time to think of something while he was recovering. He'd have days, if not more than a week, and all the quiet time on his own to just brainstorm. But he seemed intent on coming up with an answer before Nate inevitably had to leave the room to find his sister again, hopefully before the FBI agent found him.

A few drawn out moments of quiet was all it took, and then Gio snapped his fingers just in time to stop him from drifting back into his thoughts. "I know what it is. Nathaniel Devlin,-"

"That is not my full name."

"-for the ability to make someone laugh in the middle of a fucking shit show, you've won one free pass to my bedroom."

Nate coughed out a laugh at the decisive tone that formed the words, shaking his head. He was too stunned to fight the grin that had formed on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the offer. Maybe they both deserved prizes for the ability to make each other laugh when they really shouldn't be able to. Though he wasn't going to make quite the same offer, not even close.

"Yeah, to change your bedpan, maybe." He shook his head again when his ability to speak returned, unobstructed by swallowed laughter. "Someone's going to have to take care of you until you're back on your feet, and you don't have a lot of options. And, in case you haven't already noticed, I'm technically in your bedroom, right now."

Gio scoffed and glanced around the sterile hospital room with a frown, most likely feigning his offense. "Then this is breaking and entering. I need to have you removed. Hit the button that calls a nurse into here?"

Rolling his eyes, Nate made himself stand up from his seat, his grin fading into something softer. It was a weak smile, but still there. "I should go see if I can find Grace again, anyway. I'll be back again later. Get some rest so we can get you out of here sooner."

"You're ungrateful. I offered you a wonderful prize, and you made a joke about it. At least revisit the idea once this shit show is over."