Page 8 of Static/Cling

Leif guided Bjorn down to the couch next to him, off his wobbling legs. He pushed him back against the arm, then stuffed a pillow behind his back so he could sprawl. He’d never say it out loud, but Leif knew Bjorn loved this part best, right after they’d orgasmed and he was boneless and relaxed like he never otherwise was.

Once he was situated, Leif stood and fastened his jeans. “Hungry?”

Bjorn grunted. “I could eat, I guess.” When he looked like he was going to get up, Leif pushed him back.

“Relax. Enjoy the static-free life for a minute.”

“I can help.”

“It’s fine. I got it.”

“Whatever,” he said on a sigh.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” Leif smiled at him but didn’t get the expected lazy grin back.

“You don’t really think I’m an idiot.” He didn’t say it like he was asking, which was good. But he did say it, which made Leif wish he’d never brought it up. He would have a few more words with Kassian about it, though.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he assured Bjorn.

“Because I know I’m not the smartest guy around.”

“So?”

“That Kassian guy.”

“Don’t do that.” Leif sat on the arm of the couch near Bjorn’s feet. He didn’t want to crowd his post-sex bubble.

“Do what?”

“Don’t compare yourself to him. I mean, you’re built, but for fuck sakes. The guy looks like he was engineered.”

“And he’s probably extra smart.”

“Brains aren’t everything.”

“But he’s got me beat in both.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I saw your jaw drop when you saw him.”

Leif gave his friend a sideways grin. “Yeah, but dude, I mean…” He waved a hand. “You noticed, too.”

“I know.” He sighed and heaved himself up. “He probably stops traffic.” Tossing Leif’s shirt over his head, he stood and yanked up his jeans, though he didn’t button or belt them, which Leif sort of loved.

They might be best friends and not a couple, but he was never going to say he didn’t enjoy Bjorn walking around their apartment in no shirt and with his jeans open.

“Anyway, you’re the one he thinks is cute,” Leif pointed out, because he was not going to get between Bjorn and his forever guy—whoever that turned out to be. Bjorn deserved someone who didn’t keep secrets from him. Someone way more honest than Leif.

He only noticed he’d been rubbing his scar when Bjorn pulled his hand away from his face with a light grip on his wrist. “Make me toast,” he demanded in the soft voice he used when he required Leif’s full attention.

He got it, because his eyes did a soft, shining thing when he used that voice that always made Leif feel like he should do whatever it was Bjorn was telling him to do. Leif could usually convince himself the light was the electricity. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was just how Bjorn felt, and he didn’t let it show anyplace but when they were here, alone.

“Make your own toast,” he griped, even as he pulled on his shirt.

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