Chapter One
The back of Daniel’s neck is warm when Tony’s nose collides with it.
“Good morning,” Daniel laughs. He’s in the middle of making tea, ladling out two scoops of his expensive, possibly pretentious chai vanilla looseleaf into the tea egg. The teakettle is about to boil.
“Mm.” Tony buries his face into Daniel’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his middle. “Why are you like this?”
“Awake?” Daniel twists in Tony’s grip until he’s leaning against the counter, arms around Tony’s shoulders.
His skin is still sleep-warm, and he hasn’t shaved yet. It rasps a little when Tony kisses him, which is kind of thrilling.
“Hi,” Daniel says when they pull apart.
It’s one of those things he does that should be insufferably reminiscent of one of the Netflix Hallmark knockoffs Gianna mainlines in December. But because it’s Daniel, because his eyes crinkle in the corners when he says it, because his thumb is stroking gently down the side of Tony’s neck, it’s adorable.
“Hi.” Tony says, Daniel’s lips soft against his.
The water boils; the switch on the electric kettle flips.
Tony keeps right on kissing Daniel, forcing him to ignore it.
“You in a hurry?” Tony asks when they pull apart.
“I’m doing extra office hours at nine thirty. Lily Peterson—”
“Great.” Tony pulls Daniel toward the bathroom by the hips. It’s only seven thirty. plenty of time.
“Hey!” Daniel sounds indignant, but he’s laughing.
Tony walks backward as he kisses Daniel some more. They have to sidestep the low, wobbly bookshelf in the hallway between the kitchen and the bathroom. Tony’s spent enough time here that he can do it blind, and Daniel seems happy to let him.
The bathroom ceiling slants under the roof of the building, barely leaving space for the cupboard Daniel keeps his five Target-bought towels in. It has a window, which Daniel tells Tony is prime real estate in terms of apartment hunting. Tony wouldn’t know as he’s never gotten quite that far.
They step out of their boxers, leaving them on the floor. Tony pulls his hair out of its ponytail and leaves the hair tie next to the sink as he climbs into the tub.
Two groups of fish in different shades of blue cover the shower curtain, swimming in different directions. It’s one of the few things in the apartment Tony’s sure Daniel picked solely because he liked it, along with the couch taking up half the living room and the table with a stand in the shape of bird’s leg. A lot of the other stuff in the apartment is functional and plain, such as the bookshelves groaning under the weight of Daniel’s collection. The shower curtain is functional and fun.
With two grown men trying to crowd into the shower, it’s also a pain in the neck. In the small tub, the curtain always sticks to someone’s legs.
Daniel grimaces as he disentangles himself from the cold, clinging material. “This is not how I pictured this.”
“Bet I can make it worth your while anyway,” Tony offers.
“I know you can.”
The showerhead sprays to life above them, and Tony leans against the cold tiles, pulling Daniel against him. He shivers at the sharp contrast of the tiles at his back and Daniel’s warm body against his front. With one hand cradling the base of Daniel’s head, Tony angles his head to kiss Daniel deep and slow.
Under Tony’s fingers, Daniel’s light brown hair goes dark and sleek, plastered to his head. The air around them becomes humid. Daniel lets his mouth slide past Tony’s to his jaw and then his neck.
Tony’s skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Not fair,” he breathes. “I was seducing you .”
Daniel hums against his skin. “Seduce me more later.” His mouth is as hot as the water sluicing around them.
Between their bodies, Tony’s cock twitches. He woke up kind of horny anyway, and Daniel’s mouth on his neck, Daniel’s body against his— Daniel is enough to get him there. Tony juts his hips up, rubbing himself on Daniel’s thigh.
Daniel’s hand wanders down, stroking across Tony’s sensitive side. He wraps Tony’s cock in a firm grip and strokes him slowly, root to tip.
Tony lets himself relax, lets the wall hold him up. “Feels good.” His voice comes out low with the water pounding around them.
Daniel hears anyway. “Yeah?”
Tony cups a hand loosely over Daniel’s ass. “Yeah. You always feel good, baby.”
He can feel the curve of Daniel’s lips as he smiles against Tony’s neck.
Tony breathes in thick steam. “So perfect for me. Getting me off just how I like it first thing in the morning as if you have nothing better to do—”
Daniel’s mouth cuts him off, his fist speeding up on Tony’s cock.
“I don’t,” Daniel says.
Tony would understand, he’s sure, but Daniel sweeps his thumb across the head perfectly, and Tony’s so close, and Daniel’s got this look like he’s ready to eat Tony alive. All he can manage in response is, “Huh?”
“I don’t.” Daniel’s lips curve in a smile, too soft to be sexy, too private to be anything else. “There’s nothing better to do than this; there’s nothing more important than making you feel good.”
Tony’s breath hitches in his chest. Daniel’s hand tightens around him a fraction, and Tony comes, spurting up and over Daniel’s fist and dripping to the shower floor. The water washes it away instantly.
It takes Tony a moment to catch his breath. Daniel’s hands are steady at his waist.
When he can think again, he pushes away from the wall and slides to his knees.
“Tony,” Daniel gasps above him.
Tony doesn’t wait. He opens his mouth around the head of Daniel’s cock and takes it in. There’s barely enough space for him to kneel at Daniel’s feet, and the porcelain isn’t easy on the knees. But under Tony’s hands, Daniel’s thighs tremble. Daniel’s broad shoulders stop the spray of water from hitting Tony, leaving him to concentrate fully on sucking Daniel’s cock as sloppy and wet as he knows how.
“Oh, shit.” Daniel moans as Tony speeds up.
Tony’s learned after a few months that Daniel likes it messy. He’d never admit it. It sounds too crass for his delicate sensibilities. But he flushes all the way up his chest and neck when Tony lets spit drip out of his mouth and over his fist as he pumps the base slowly.
Daniel lets out a breathy, “Ah!”
It’s Tony’s sign to speed up his fist and to stop sucking, just holding the head in his mouth and tracing patterns on the underside with his tongue. A minute, maybe two, and Daniel groans low in his throat and almost doubles over as he comes. It draws him out of Tony’s mouth, and the come runs across Tony’s lips, shooting over his cheeks.
“Sorry.” Daniel’s out of breath when he realizes, which is gratifying.
Tony blinks up at him through eyelashes gone sticky.
They both burst into laughter.
“C’mon, help me up,” Tony demands through chuckles.
Daniel helps him to his feet and graciously cedes his spot under the spray so Tony can get his face clean.
“Ugh.” Tony groans as the hot water makes Daniel’s come turn from sticky and wet to oddly flaky. “Why does that always happen?”
“It’s protein,” Daniel explains absently, uncapping his three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel. “Heat makes it break up.”
Tony squints at him through the water. “Like when you skim the white gook off of chicken stock?”
Daniel pauses in lathering up his hair. “Okay, one, thanks for comparing those two things. Two, what kind of chicken stock are you making?”
“You know, when you put the bones in a pot and—”
“You use bones ?”
Tony sighs. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty. And smart.”
Daniel rolls his eyes as he does every time Tony implies he might think Daniel is attractive—as if he can’t believe the man dating him might legitimately think he’s hot. He hands Tony his shampoo. He must have started buying it sometime a few weeks ago when Tony wouldn’t stop complaining about Daniel’s.
Showering together is nice.
In a very practical sense, it’s awful. Their elbows and knees are always in the way, and sidling past each other to get under the water is fraught with the risk of slipping. The shower curtain keeps clinging to Tony’s calves. But when they pass each other, Daniel’s body brushes up against Tony’s. When he needs to rinse out the shampoo, Daniel helps, running his hands through Tony’s hair. When they get out, Daniel hands Tony the second towel he keeps out all the time for Tony these days.
“I could get used to starting the day like this.” Tony’s head is hidden under the towel as he rubs his hair dry, which is the only reason he says it. It would be too direct otherwise.
Daniel probably thinks he’s being smooth, grinning into the mirror and not straight at Tony. “Me too.”
It’s enough to keep them both smiling as they run through their morning routine. Daniel brushes his teeth and shaves once the mirror defogs enough while Tony blow-dries his hair. While Tony’s brushing his teeth, Daniel wanders back to the kitchen to finish up his tea.
“Hey, have you seen my hair tie?” Tony asks when he’s put on fresh boxers and the T-shirt he accidentally left at Daniel’s two weeks ago. Daniel must have washed it; it smells of his detergent.
Daniel sets his phone and his teacup down, looking over at Tony.
His eyebrows shoot up. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you with your hair down.”
Tony strikes a pose. His hair is pretty much covering his eyes. “How do I look?”
“You remind me of something…”
“A supermodel,” Tony suggests. “One of those pictures of Saint Sebastian you were showing me the other week. An international soccer star who regularly gets his ass fondled by other dudes on the pitch but exclusively fucks women.”
“No…” Daniel shakes his head. “Have you ever seen those Highland cows? With the fringe?”
“Asshole,” Tony grumbles. “Seriously though, have you seen my hair tie? I left it by the sink. It’s my last one.”
“Sorry. Maybe it fell?”
They wander through the hallway and the bathroom, examining the floor.
Behind the cracked bedroom door, an ominous noise alerts Tony, and he pushes the door farther open.
On the floor in front of the bed is the cat, purring his heart out and pushing the hair tie back and forth between his paws.
“Worf,” Tony admonishes, torn between amusement and frustration. This fucking cat. “You have toys.” He snatches up the hair tie and sets about finger-combing his hair into a ponytail.
Daniel shakes his head sadly. “Those were legally acquired. Nowhere near as exciting as contraband. You want coffee?”
“Not yours.” Tony kisses his cheek placatingly before he can get upset about it. Daniel is not a coffee drinker, and his coffee supplies show it. “We need to go?”
Tony opens the fridge and pulls out his sandwich, neatly arranged in one of Daniel’s extensive collection of plastic boxes with click-lids that, despite being different sizes, are all exactly the wrong size for a large slice of bread. It’s an excuse to slice a sandwich diagonally, which secretly thrills Tony by virtue of being nostalgic. Figuring out which is his and which is Daniel’s distracts him—Daniel prefers two slices of bread with cheese and nothing else between them, the weirdo—and it takes him a moment to notice Daniel hasn’t answered.
“Sweetheart?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Daniel looks up from his phone. “Just checking what I’m meeting Lily Peterson about.”
Tony makes a noncommittal humming sound, passing Daniel his sandwich.
“I forget how young students are sometimes.” A rueful little smile plays around Daniel’s lips as he turns his phone screen so Tony can read.
…want to make sure I’m starting this semester on track. I’m doing really well. I found a great therapist in Hudson, and my boyfriend said he’d drive me. He’s the same age as me. I promise! The boyfriend, not the therapist.
“Cute.”
“Yeah.”
Tony hesitates a second. “You think she’s ready for all that?”
“All what?”
“School, therapy. Dating.”
“Oh.” A frown line tightens on Daniel’s forehead. “I guess it’s up to her. After what happened to Mario…I don’t know. I mean, she was never with him, so she might be able to bounce back faster.”
Tony swallows his instant reaction, which is to ask faster than who ? Gianna, Mario’s only other victim, as far as they know, is aggressively fine about the death of her daughter’s father. Tony would risk a family fight if he so much as breathed the word “therapy” in her direction. And neither Daniel nor Colette, who were arguably closer to Mario before his murder, have tried to find a therapist or even talked about how they feel about his death. Then again, unlike Lily, they didn’t attempt suicide in reaction to Mario’s death. “She’s young.”
“Yeah. I guess I’ll see how she’s doing in…” Daniel checks his phone. “Fuck. Soon.”
“Which brings me back to my original question. Do we need to go?”
“You’re the one who keeps to business hours,” Daniel says.
“Eh.” Tony grins. “The boss has a soft spot for me.”
“Well, I’d like him not to start hating me, so you should probably put on some pants.”
Tony sighs. “What a cruel world.”
Daniel squeezes his ass through the thin boxers. “I’d keep you this way all day if I could. Unfortunately, we are slaves to capitalism.”
As Daniel finishes his tea, Tony fishes his second-best pair of jeans out of Daniel’s dresser. He pulls them on then grabs his sandwich off the kitchen counter.
On the way downstairs, they stop at Colette’s door.
She takes a few moments to answer.
“Colette?” Daniel calls through the door. “My office hours start in—”
“I’m coming.” Her voice is loud, bare inches away.
The door flies open, and Tony jerks away.
Colette stands before him in her trademark black slacks with a blouse in a bright shade of aquamarine. Her long gold necklace has a pendant that reminds Tony of a wire whisk.
Her hair frames her face in a loose, hazy Afro.
“Nice,” Tony says.
She smiles tightly. “You think?”
“Oh, yeah.” Tony’s not about to start telling people new and drastically different haircuts aren’t working for them. He’s not an idiot, but he’s also not lying this time. The looseness of the hairstyle highlights Colette’s high cheekbones and lends her professional outfit a softness he only sees in her at the end of particularly long nights otherwise.
“What brought this on?” Daniel’s voice is weirdly high and tight.
Tony elbows him.
“I mean, uh, it looks great, Colette,” Daniel adds hurriedly.
She shrugs, resettling the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “I was due for a change.” She starts to walk down the stairs, reminding Tony they do actually need to get going.
“It does look wonderful,” Daniel repeats. “Um, this isn’t a post-traumatic hairstyle change or anything, is it?”
Colette glares at him over her shoulder as she pushes open the door and steps out into the early September sunshine. “Mario died ten months ago. My cosmetic decision-making is wholly unconnected.”
“Just checking. Any other big life changes I should worry about? Are you getting a pet? Or a new girlfriend?”
In the time he’s known her, Tony has never known Colette to express an interest in either.
She sighs, exasperated. “No, Daniel, and if I were, it wouldn’t be cause for concern. I just thought… I don’t know. I didn’t quite feel myself anymore. Anyway, there isn’t much to do around here these days; it seemed like an adventure.”
“That’s not true. You singlehandedly started a whole new advisee program this summer.”
The look Colette gives Daniel could kill a less oblivious man. “What an adventure. Offering more office hours in my free time to students who couldn’t pass their classes last year.”
“I thought it was a cool thing to do.”
“Yes, well. It was brought to my attention last year that perhaps my engagement with the students has been…too academically oriented.”
It’s Colette’s way of saying she still feels guilty she didn’t realize her friend was preying on his students. Daniel grimaces and says nothing.
“I agree,” Tony says to break the awkward silence. “Cool idea. Definitely not an adventure.”
“And a haircut is?”
“Would you like the reading list about Black culture and hair in MLA or Chicago?”
“MLA, please, Chicago is so ugly.”
Colette shakes her head, affronted. “Your poor taste and your lack of awareness about other cultures have been noted. Is there anything else we need to cover, or can we get to work?”
Daniel presses the unlock button on his car key. “I really do think the advisee program for summer school was a great idea, and I’m glad you’re doing it.”
Tony can tell he’s feeling guilty. He’s been making noises for a while now about how he wonders whether Colette is coping as well as she claims to be.
True to form, Colette is not one to accept vulnerability or praise easily. “Yes, well. There isn’t much to do around here.”
“I heard the movie theater closed.”
“The AMC?” Tony asks, alarmed. He knows small town America is dying and all, but he assumed the massive chains were safe for another year or two.
“No, the independent theater in Germantown,” Colette corrects. “I used to go with…well, you know.”
“Right.”