Page 6 of Watch Over Me

James stared at the offered bar for a moment, as if he had forgotten what it was, but then he took it with a quiet thank you.

"Sure thing." Eddie picked up the travel mug. "You saved me earlier, and I'm happy to return the favor."

"I feel like I got more out of it than you did," James told him with a shadow of a smile right before he bit into the bar.

"Unlikely," Eddie whispered, and,fuck, the surprise on James's face made him backtrack fast. There was being obvious and there was throwing oneself at somebody. "My love for coffee cannot be overstated. Between coffee and a protein bar, there's no competition. Come to think of it, coffee has no competition in my book, period."

James chuckled lightly. "How could I forget?"

Eddie raised the mug in a gesture of a toast and finished what was left in it.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and the silence was comfortable, born out of many hours spent in similar fashion. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they didn't, but Eddie was happy either way. As much as he liked his fellow communication specialists, he also didn't mind having the whole office to himself, if only so he could have this—a little piece of James's time.

A little piece of James.

"I should probably get going," came the expected words after a few more minutes, and Eddie glanced at him as James stood up and stretched his arms again.

There was no way to stop Eddie's gaze from slipping to where the shirt rode up and uncovered a sliver of James's stomach, with toned muscles and a dark trail of hair that disappeared under the waistline of his trousers.

Eddie licked his lips and turned away, hoping James didn't catch it.

"Get some sleep. In a real bed this time," he suggested, staring at the monitor without really seeing anything.

"I'm gonna do that." James's voice was slightly hoarse, but that could be from a variety of things. "Have a quiet night."

"You too. Drive safe."

After the door closed behind James, Eddie slumped in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. "Fuck it all to hell."

CHAPTER THREE

Sitting in his car in the HQ garage, James replayed the whole night in his head.

He blamed Ryan for planting ideas in his head with his comments about Eddie. Everything had been fine before that, and James had been looking forward to his after-action routine, but then…

He'd spent the entirety of the drive back to the HQ arguing with Ryan in his head, coming up with new ways to tell his partner that there was nothing going on between James and Eddie and that Ryan needed to back off.

A runaway thought that maybe he wasn't trying to convince Ryan but himself had been solely a figment of a tired brain, nothing more.

To distract himself before heading to the comm center, James decided to make himself coffee, but as he stared at the liquid dripping from the coffee machine, he realized that the last thing he needed was to amp himself up even more.

The moment he walked into Eddie's domain, though, everything else became a background noise. Who could blame him for wanting to come back here, when this was what greeted him every time—the flash of recognition in those warm brown eyes, the ever-present joy at seeing him, that smile James might be a little addicted to?

He didn't get it anywhere else. Going home meant something important for a lot of people here, but for him, it had little value. He had nothing, and no one, to come back to. And while he had long ago gotten used to being alone—the years spent bouncing between different foster homes taught him that, at least—it didn't mean he particularly liked it this way. Heaccepted it, sure, but didn't like it.

And was it so wrong that he sought Eddie's company after work? Was it so wrong that he didn't want anyone messing with their friendship? He believed Ryan had the best intentions, but it didn't mean James was going to risk losing a good friend over Ryan's said-so.

Eddie created space for him in all sorts of ways—the easy smile, the jokes, never making James feel like he was getting in his way. Sometimes, when Eddie needed to get something done, they didn't talk at all. James would lounge in the chair he considered his and rest, relaxing to the hum of computers and typing.

Tonight, though, thanks to Ryan's earlier words, there were moments when James paused and looked at the whole picture from a different angle.

And he didn't know what to do with it now.

The lights in the parking lot dimmed, pulling James out of his head. He needed to get home, not sit around in an empty underground garage overthinking his life choices.

His home might not be what many people had, but at least it had a bed, and it was time he went and used it. Eddie would still be there in the office, tonight, on Monday, and every day after that.

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