Page 124 of Walking Wounded

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“Home sweet home,” Hal says as he pushes the apartment door open, and that’s what it feels like, in this moment: home.

Luke follows him in, carrying only his messenger bag because Hal had insisted (the life of an invalid is rapidly getting on Luke’s very last nerve), breathing deep the clean-closet smell of a place that hasn’t been lived in for almost three weeks. It’s possibly the best thing he’s ever smelled.

In the wake of finding Davis, the Maddoxes decided to stay in Leesburg for a couple weeks and let the worst of the media storm blow over before they came back to the city. Sandy insisted that Luke and Hal stay until Luke was “better,” a state she only just deemed him this morning. Luke didn’t feel that hiding out was necessary…until he caught sight of the news van trying to creep up the driveway. Lee got Channel Five turned around fast, but it was only the first of dozens of attempts. Calls came in to the house, big name TV journalists looking for the first scoop. Luke had inquiring emails stacking up on his phone, and a few calls to boot, interviewers wanting to talk to the “star witness.” He sat quietly hyperventilating in the library after talking to CNN for ten minutes one day, until Hal found him and pressed a hot coffee mug into his hand. “Ignore them,” he instructed.

They stayed in Leesburg for as long as possible.

“I can carry my own shit, you know.”

Hal relocks the doors and lifts both heavy totes to carry them into the bedroom. “Are you going to be this much of a pain in the ass every time I do something nice for you?” he calls over his shoulder. The duffels hit the rug with a thump and Hal returns, in the process of shrugging off his coat. He’s in a baggy red sweater and jeans, and Luke silently laments the fact that this is Hal’s last day looking like a comfortable, rumpled L.L. Bean model before he goes back to work, and suits, and ties, and firearms tomorrow.

“Probably,” Luke says, shooting for smartass…but coming off as pathetic, more than anything.

Hal comes to stand in front of him, right up close, like always, and Luke wonders why it took him so long to see that Hal wants this closeness, that he has distinct not-friend-like feelings about them sharing space like this. “Why?” he asks, and cups a hand loosely around Luke’s neck, a sweet, possessive touch that draws them even closer together. He grins. “Just can’t help it?”

Luke swallows, throat suddenly dry. “Something like that.” He doesn’t think he can explain his complicated need not to feel like Hal’s kept little woman. And also the strange reticence that lingers; he’s afraid to let himself believe that this is it, that it’s happening, that he has Hal in this way now.

“Hey,” Hal says, inching even closer. Close enough for Luke to feel his breath against his hairline. “This doesn’t have to be home sweet home. We can look at other places. Somewhere that we pick out together.”

Luke can’t describe the awful tenderness that unfolds in his chest to hear Hal offer something like that. Like finding a new home in Georgetown wouldn’t be a hellish chore. Like he doesn’t mind giving up his beautiful, modern apartment so Luke can feel like he has a hand in choosing their home.

“Nah,” he says, voice rougher than he wants it to be. “If we have a fight, I can always sleep on the couch.”

Hal leans their foreheads together.

“Or make you sleep on the couch,” Luke amends.

“The offer stands, though.”

“I hear you.”

Traffic passes on the street outside, a gentle shushing made sharper by the cold, dry air. Faint sounds of other inhabitants drift up through the floor. They breathe, a quiet, complimentary rhythm.

“I promised I’d call our moms when we got back safe,” Hal says, softly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the moment.

“Hmm. Sandy too, probably.”

“Yeah.”

“You probably have all kinds of paperwork to deal with at work,” Luke says.

“And you’ve got a book to write,” Hal counters.

They acknowledge both truths with silence.

Luke takes a deep breath. “I love you so much it actually hurts.”

Hal says, “I want us to get married.”

Luke stretches up the last fraction and kisses him.

He won’t ever get tired of this. Kissing Hal is like the first breath after a long swim every time; oxygen straight to his starved bloodstream. It’s the quiet after a storm, a warm hearth on a cold night. It transcends the exercises of the lips, and teeth, and tongues. And that’s even before Hal puts his hands on him, and reels him in close, so there’s no air between them, just the rustle of impatient clothes and the competing rhythms of heartbeats.

“Hal,” Luke gasps against his mouth. “Will you fuck me?”

A full-body shiver grips Hal, rattles his whole big frame. His hands tighten on Luke’s hips and he rakes his teeth down Luke’s chin. “If you want, baby, whatever you want. Yeah, yeah, I will, I want to.”

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