Page 6 of Before They Were Lovers

“What are you doing back here?” Day asked.

“I had to take a piss.” The guy shrugged, voice shaky, his eyes shifting back and forth between them.

Day knew they had their peeper. He looked to be in his late forties, early fifties. He wore a University of Miami hoodie, buttoned but unzipped ratty black jeans, and a black beanie.

“What else you been doing tonight?” God rumbled with his lip curled. “Beating off while watching women undress in their bedrooms?”

The guy balked. “No.”

As God continued to stare, the man tried to race around them, but before he made it three steps, God reached out, gripped the man’s wrist, spun him, and slammed him against the concrete wall.

God shook his head, wasting no words.

“Put your hands behind your back, Tom. You’re under arrest for indecent exposure and for being a fuckin’ disgusting pervert.” Day cuffed their suspect, touching the man’s hands as little as possible.

Gross.

Day recited their peeper’s Miranda rights before they led him back to their patrol car.

God got in the driver’s seat since he said Day drove too slow. In his opinion, God drove like a raging lunatic whether they were responding to a call or just going to lunch.

“I should leave the back door open so when you turn the corner, heaccidentallyfalls out.” Day got in the passenger seat of their squad car and slammed his door. “Now we’ve got an hour of paperwork because this shit-dick couldn’t beat off at home watching porn on his phone like normal people.”

God snorted.

Day smiled, knowing that was as close to hearing God’s laugh as he would get.

Day

It was almost ten when he and God stepped out of the precinct, showered and back in civilian clothes after a long shift. His body was worn and running on fumes, desperately needing the day off tomorrow.

They walked in silence, God wearing his usual closed-off expression that was a regular companion between them.

Day waited until they’d crossed the cracked pavement in the parking lot and were almost to their vehicles before he spoke.

“Man,” he started, stretching his arms high over his head. “I’m not getting out of bed tomorrow until my stomach is growling too loud for me to stay asleep.”

God hummed as if he felt the same.

Day tossed his car keys up and down with one hand, trying to appear casual.

“You got plans…a date…or are you just heading home to crash into bed?”

God didn’t answer right away, allowing the question to hang suspended in the humid air.

Finally, God spoke, his voice rough, low, and sluggish. “No plans. No one waiting for me.”

That almost sounded sad. However, just because God didn’t have anyone waiting tonight didn’t mean he wouldn’t tomorrow. Day didn’t think his partner had a hard time finding company. He was densely packed with muscles, tall, and sexy as hell.

“I’ll just crash.”

God’s answers were always short and to the point, and Day had learned to just roll with it. The guy was an enigma wrapped in solid, silent armor that Day couldn’t fucking figure out.

He needed to change that.

“Well…” Day grinned despite the exhaustion surrounding every muscle. “I’m not doing anything either. You wanna go shoot the shit over some beers and wings at the Ben Bar?”

God’s light green eyes flicked toward him, his lids narrowing a bit, but Day didn’t see rejection. For a moment, he thought God would turn him down. It was rare that God wanted to do anything after work except go home, sleep, and then get back to work.

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