Page 126 of Under Construction

Dennis is up before dawn, going through motions. Shower. Clothes. Coffee. Sleep's been impossible anyway.

His phone shows a missed call from Chris. Then a message:

Downstairs to pick you up for work, Miss you like crazy

His heartbeat kicks up but he forces his movements to stay measured. Part of him wants to sprint down—it's beenforever—while another part remembers Chris has been protecting him from sickness and disease, not avoiding him on purpose.

Still, Dennis is a little mad at him. The unreasonable feeling simmers beneath his skin even as his fingers shake while buttoning his shirt.

Through the glass doors, he spots Chris outside Oakview Heights, hands in his pockets as he studies the building's facade. Dennis pushes through the door.

The new sunrise hits Chris's cheekbones just right, turning his skin golden as he turns. That smile breaks across his face—the one that makes Dennis forget how to inhale, that turns his brain to static, that makes everything else disappear.

Chris pulls him in without a word. Their lips meet and Dennis drowns in it, every emotion crashing through him at once—relief, joy, hurt, want, love.

"I missed you, you asshole," Dennis whispers against Chris's mouth.

Chris laughs softly, tucking Dennis’s hair behind his ear. "Missed you too princess, more than you'll ever know."

At the site, Dennis feels on top of the world until Jason pipes up: "Chris, how'd you fix the permit situation?"

"Called in some favors with city hall." Chris waves it off.

Jealousy flares hot and irrational in Dennis’s chest. He knows it's stupid—Chris has been sick, sounding like death warmed over on the phone, stuffy and miserable—but after days of silence, he can't help it. "What kind of favors do people owe you?" The words come out snippier than intended.

"Don't worry princess, the sexual favors are only for you." Chris winks.

They can't keep their eyes off each other all day. Lunch together feels like coming home. They skip dinner and unpaid overtime, heading straight to Chris’s apartment.

Half-finished medicine bottles line the counter but there's no other evidence of illness—no takeout containers, no tissues, nothing.

Between kisses and fumbled clothes, Dennis manages: "Did you even eat while you were sick? I should've brought you food."

The apartment feels unlived in.

"Just wanted everything clean for you coming back." Chris tugs him toward the mattress.

That night, Chris takes him slow and deep, never breaking eye contact. Every thrust comes with whispered endearments—"princess, darling, my baby"—until Dennis falls apart again and again.

Chris gives him everything. Leaves him limp and satisfied and cherished.

The next few days slip back to normal.

One morning after they wake at three AM, Chris slides into Dennis slow and lazy. They stay joined for what feels like hours, barely moving, just feeling each other in the dark.

At five AM, Chris eases out of bed with practiced stealth—movements too smooth for this to be the first time he's snuck away while Dennis sleeps.

"Site inspection?" Dennis mumbles into the pillow, half-conscious.

"Go back to sleep, princess." Chris's lips brush his temple. "I'll bring coffee later."

Things are okay now. They're more than okay. So Dennis drifts off to Chris's keys jangling, the quiet click of the door.

The coffee never comes.

Around ten, Jason bursts into Dennis’s office waving his phone. "Your father wants to see you both. Now."

"Both?"

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