Page 17 of Sullied Saints

Dirk softly closes the door as I turn to him. He's wearing grey sweatpants hung loose on his hips, a white long-sleeved t-shirt, a tea towel draped over one shoulder and a wooden spoon with red sauce on the tip in one hand. His hair is slightly damp, the ends flicking up in points like he just got out of the shower. That is all to say, he looks extremely fuckable.

He even smells nice, like spiced soap. "Well,you'rehere now, I guess," he answers.

There's the unspoken question ofwhy. "I want to talk about our problems. And I want you to admit you're being unreasonable."

"Okay."

I blink. "Okay?"

He shrugs. "The things I blamed you for at the station were unreasonable. Not all of them… but a couple of them."

"Right." I didn't expect that part to be so easy. "But I still want to talk. I'm tired of the limbo we're in. And of you avoiding me."

Dirk sighs, pulling the tea towel off his shoulder, and I'm momentarily distracted by being able to see his chest muscles through his shirt. I probably should have masturbated before coming here. "All right. You hungry?"

"What?"

He points towards the kitchen, separated from the living room by a bar counter. "I don't think this is a conversation I'm up for on an empty stomach."

Well, Iamhungry, and he's probably right. Not sure if I should let go of the bravado that brought me this far, I meet his eye. "We eat, then we solve all our problems."

He chuckles, and the sound is sweet, the first real mirth I've heard from him in too long. "Sure."

We eat at the bar counter, him standing on the other side, me perched on one of the two bar stools. "You're actually a good cook," I comment.

"It’s hard to screw up spaghetti."

"Just take the compliment." Never mind that I skipped lunch.

"Good point."

As Dirk clears the crumbs off the bench with a tea towel, I shrug out of my formal work shirt, down to just my singlet. He glances up and asks, "How’s your talks with Needler going?"

I shrug, leaning my elbows on the counter. "Not very productive from a case standpoint. But he does think I should take my problems by the balls."

"Really? What does he think your problems are?"

I avoid meeting his eye, clearing my throat awkwardly. "It’s hard to know what he thinks."

"Hmph."

"I've missed you."

Dirk drops his gaze, idly moving specks of parsley into a pile with his finger. "Yeah."

"I just…"

Looking up, he cuts me off. "Want things to go back to normal?"

Right, that’s what I said last time. "Would that be so bad?"

"What’s 'normal' now?"

"I don't know. Before, we were partners, friends."

"Right. Friends." Dirk runs a hand through his hair. "Sure, let’s go back to that."

I narrow my eyes at him, hardly convinced. "So you'll come back in to work even when you know I'm there?"

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