Second Chance (Hudson Valley Murder Mysteries #2)

Chapter Eight

T here’s a package of Milano wafers in the back of the cabinet in the tiny faculty kitchen in Daniel’s office building.

In a minute, or ten, or whenever Daniel gets to the office he’s supposed to be waiting in, they’re going out to dinner. Right now, the locked door means there’s no hot professor for Tony to wine and dine, and Tony’s starving—he packed one sandwich for work again today.

He fishes out the packet of Milano wafers and tries one. It’s inedibly stale. Tony fills up a cup of water at the water fountain to wash away the disconcerting mouthfeel of crumbly chocolate.

The door to the building swings open. Condelmuir, being unbearably pompous, boasts a very big door. Not only do all the buildings on this campus have names as if they house British royalty, no, some of them also look like it, and Daniel’s office building is one of the worst offenders. Wood paneling covers everything. The floorboards squeak. The windows in the entrance hall—an actual room—have pointed arches above them.

In this building, it would be hard not to be aware of the door bursting open.

The sound is quickly followed by voices—tight, raised voices. Tony would recognize Daniel’s voice no matter the tone. He ambles toward the entrance, trying to make it seem as if he’s casually walking in that direction.

No one is watching.

He feels ridiculous.

The door to Daniel’s office slams shut as Tony reaches the hallway by the door, leaving Tony to wave awkwardly at the uniformed officer standing in front of it.

Through the door, Tony can make out the gist of what is happening.

“You seem to believe an unfounded suspicion is enough for administration to accept unconstitutional searches.” Daniel sounds prissy, which is a clear sign he’s very sure he’s right and being ignored. He gets like this about Tony’s approach to washing the dishes (nine times out of ten, Tony doesn’t see a need for detergent). Tony doesn’t care that much about the dishes. He does enjoy how Daniel starts overenunciating his consonants and picking unnecessarily long words.

“A woman is dead,” an exasperated voice says though the door. Having seen her recently, Tony recognizes Detective Taylor’s voice instantly. “I’m not looking to infringe on anyone’s rights, Professor Rosenbaum. Just trying to make sure no one else dies.”

“I understand your concerns.” The dulcet sound of Daniel Rosenbaum at a level eight priss, minimum, cheers Tony. “But I don’t think a mass search is the way to go.”

“It’s the only way to go. And if administration doesn’t budge, I’ll have to use my warrant.”

Tony winces.

He wonders if Detective Taylor would see it Daniel’s way if she knew the murder weapon is definitely not on campus but rather in the junk drawer in Daniel’s kitchen. That would be a fun way to announce his presence. And torpedo his relationship, while he’s at it. It would also be a fun way to get arrested for obstruction of justice.

The officer skulking by the door crosses his arms, eyebrows rising. It’s the first he’s acknowledged Tony’s presence.

“Imagine a thousand of him, and every single one wants to debate you about the room searches,” Tony says. “Now you’ve got the student body.”

The officer frowns. “We’re trying to—”

“I know. I get it, man. But this is not the right clientele for that kind of law and order.”

“What other kind is there?” The officer looks honestly baffled, but his tone is curious, not judging.

“The kind based on open conversation and consent.”

The officer snorts. “You don’t debate with murderers.”

Idly, Tony wonders whether this guy would debate with queers.

“What are you doing here, anyway? You don’t seem like…”

Tony raises his own eyebrows and crosses his arms right back at the officer.

“…a student,” the officer finishes.

“I’m not. Just waiting on Professor Rosenbaum.” We have a dinner date , he could continue. Or even, He’s my boyfriend , to see how this guy reacts. He’s probably Hudson Valley born and raised. Why else would a cop end up here?

He probably has more in common with Tony than Daniel does.

At least in terms of the things you can see easily.

The door to Daniel’s office bursts open. Detective Taylor stalks out, obviously frustrated, her hair coming loose from its standard twisty updo and her blouse wrinkled. Tony wonders about that. Is it the case? Two murders in a year in what’s supposed to be a sleepy precinct? Or is there more to it?

“Mr. d’Angelo,” Taylor says sharply. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into Professor Rosenbaum.” With a jerk of her head toward the officer, she bites out, “Jeffries,” and the officer follows her out of the building, giving Tony a nod as he goes.

Tony steps to the open doorframe of Daniel’s office.

Daniel’s slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the space where the detective was previously.

“Hey,” Tony says.

“Hi. I’m guessing you heard?”

“Enough. They think it was a student, huh?”

“Yup.”

Tony steps inside to lean against Daniel’s desk. “Well, it’s gotta be someone connected to the college. What else do you and Amelia Lawrence have in common?”

“I know.” Daniel rubs a hand across his forehead. “I still don’t want to believe it. I also don’t want a riot on my hands when the students find out about the room searches.”

“Or for the murderer to lash out at you when they find out.”

If Tony weren’t watching closely, he would miss the way Daniel’s entire body flinches.

“Or that.” Daniel’s voice is calm. “Do you think I’m insane?”

“No more than usual. I like that about you most of the time.”

“But not now.”

Tony sighs. “Daniel, you can either not tell the police about the legitimate threats of violence against you and the murder weapon in the kitchen, or you can be anxious about how it will affect our relationship. Both isn’t fair.”

To his surprise, Daniel laughs. “You’re right.”

For a moment, they stare at each other.

This is where Tony should comfort Daniel, should let him know it’s okay, that Tony supports him. Except the stakes are too high. Daniel’s choices are too dangerous, and Tony can’t do it.

Instead, he asks, “You think the students will riot?”

Daniel gives him a look. “Have you met Lobell students?”

“Christ, they’ll go on the barricades to avoid the cops finding all their drugs and alcohol.” Thinking of Lily, Tony’s not sure. If she did put the knife on Daniel’s door, she has nothing to hide. If she didn’t, well, she was still worried about being a suspect. A room search would prove her innocence.

Then, he thinks of Sean and wonders if he would care or if he’d want this whole situation over and done with as soon as possible.

“Yup. Can’t say I would have been different. At least it wasn’t only me. The administration vote was about seventy–thirty against. Which doesn’t mean anything if Taylor has a warrant. I don’t know why she even asked us.” Daniel leans back in his chair, exhaling in a long huff. He scrubs a hand over his face, and Tony decides not to present his theory that Detective Taylor is trying her best not to alienate the college completely. “I guess she’s on me because she thinks I’ll try to solve the case myself. Christ, I’m ready for pizza and beer.”

“Great. I’m starving.”

As they walk out the door, Tony adds, “Just checking—aren’t you trying to solve the case yourself?”

Daniel draws to a halt and studies him seriously. “I’m taking my responsibility to the student body seriously by providing counsel and protecting them from unfounded police searches. There isn’t any real evidence pointing to a student. We don’t know anything about the knife. And Taylor wouldn’t believe me either way.”

So, they’re sticking with keeping the murder weapon in the kitchen. Tony sighs and nods. It’s not worth fighting about.

In retrospect, they should have chosen a place farther from campus. But Daniel’s been craving the weirdly specific Cajun chicken pizza they do at the chain that opened right on the 9W across from campus. They also have an obnoxiously fruity IPA on tap, which is right up Daniel’s alley. Tony orders the plainest pizza he can find on the menu and a side order of garlic knots along with an apology to his Italian ancestors.

Their order has barely arrived when Gianna and her friends get there.

“Shit,” Daniel mutters and sinks low in his seat.

“Huh?” Tony looks over his shoulder to follow Daniel’s line of sight, and when he sees Gianna’s dark flannel shirt and bangs out of the corner of his eye, his stomach clenches. It’s probably hunger.

“Do you think they saw us?” Daniel asks.

Instead of answering, Tony stuffs a garlic knot in his mouth.

Gianna and her friends are seated kitty-corner to him and Daniel, which gives Tony a clear view of Sean’s caterpillar of a hipster mustache and the way Lily’s knee keeps bouncing incessantly through the entirety of his and Daniel’s meal.

“Should’ve known there would be too many students here.” Even under the restaurant’s dim lighting, Daniel looks a little pale, exhausted by the last few days. “I should probably say hi.”

Tony shakes his head. “Eat your dinner, baby. If they see you, fine, but you need a break.”

It gets them through maybe half of the meal, both keeping quiet.

Unfortunately, with no conversation distracting him, Tony can hear every inane college kid conversation happening around them.

“I swear,” one girl at the bar says loudly. “Birkenstocks! With socks!”

Two tables over, someone else explains what a rip-off the campus bookstore is.

Most immediately, diagonally across from him, Sean, who seems the type to always be complaining, complains. “Room searches,” he says seriously. “Are they fucking kidding? Room searches? That’s, like, unconstitutional.”

Daniel winces and bends over his pizza-shaped monstrosity. “They must have already sent out an email about it.”

There’s a high, nervous laugh from Gianna’s table as Lily Peterson wraps her arms tightly around her middle. She sips at an iced water on the table in front of her. Tony didn’t hear her order food. “They’re seriously…they won’t actually search our rooms, will they?”

Their other friend, the tall, skinny guy with the less obnoxious facial hair—the one whose name is the same as someone else Tony can’t remember, Fred or maybe Frank—shrugs. “They sure said they would. And you know the Dutchess County police are gonna blame this on a Black kid who stole a knife from the dining hall or some shit.”

Daniel closes his eyes with a pained expression, likely imagining that particular scenario.

“Ugh.” Sean groans. “It’s basically fascism in action. We should stage a protest or a walkout or something.”

“You just don’t wanna go to class.”

Tony’s proud Gianna isn’t letting herself get dragged into this. The last thing she needs is more police attention.

“That’s not the point. It’s about democracy and freedom and shit.”

Gianna’s eyes narrow. “You sound like you’re in the NRA.”

Sean scoffs. “I mean, they have a legal right to bear arms. If the police started searching people’s homes in Alabama or whatever for assault rifles after every school shooting, you can bet the NRA would drag them to court. The laws are shitty, but they should still count for us even if the dorm rooms aren’t technically our property.”

“Maybe they’ll change their minds.” Lily rests her elbows on the table, her fingers drumming against the linoleum. “If enough people speak out and tell them it’s…it’s…”

“Illegal and a blatant misuse of power?” Fred-Frank offers.

“Yeah. We could do, like, a petition. Stop this from happening.” Interesting. Lily isn’t acting like a cold-blooded murderer or someone who would relish the chance to prove she doesn’t have the murder weapon. She’s acting as if she has something to hide.

Sean sprawls out across the table, forehead resting on the sticky top. “That’s so much work. God, Gianna, you’re so lucky you live off campus.”

Gianna snorts. “Bet,” she says, which doesn’t mean anything to Tony.

“Come on; it must be so chill.” Sean looks up at Gianna balefully. “No shitty dining hall food, more than two square feet of space, no police presence searching your room…”

“It’s such a drag.” Gianna pushes her hair out of her face. She needs to get it cut, or tie it up, or something. Lia’s always pulling at it. “Like, I’ll be twenty-three in a month. I shouldn’t still have my mom asking me if I want a hot drink before bed.” She doesn’t mention the detective’s visit to the shop or that she’s probably next on the list if the police find nothing on campus.

“That sounds kind of nice though.” Lily has her arms folded around herself, and she sounds wistful. She’s much too skinny. She should be eating something. “My parents barely talked to me when I was at home.”

Sean snorts. “You could not pay me to move back in with my parents. Playing happy families in suburbia? No, thank you. Going on my dad’s dumb wilderness trips? Double no.”

Tony thinks of how his mom still makes enough food for four, though Tony stays at Daniel’s more nights than not. How she sat Tony down before he started his associate’s degree in Poughkeepsie and told him he was an adult, and he didn’t have a curfew anymore. She didn’t want to bother him by expecting him to be home for dinner every day, but she did want him to talk to her when he wouldn’t be, so she wouldn’t worry.

Sean’s a dick.

“I wish,” Gianna groans around some monstrosity with asparagus and hollandaise sauce this place sells as a pizza. “But my chances of moving out any time in the next five years are basically zero.”

“Must be real rough.” Tony says it before the words bypass his brain, way too loud and way too angry. “Paying nothing in rent and childcare to eat shitty pizza with your friends while Ma and Pa bend over backward so you can finish college.”

He notices, in an abstract way, how Daniel freezes on the other side of the table. Tony doesn’t make eye contact. Instead, he dips a garlic knot halfway into the marinara sauce until it glops out the side of the bowl and spills onto the table.

“Tony?” Gianna twists in her chair to see him.

“Hi.” Tony stuffs the entire garlic knot in his mouth to avoid saying anything else.

Gianna rolls her eyes. “Guys, this is my big brother Tony. He’s twenty-eight and still lives at home, so his opinion is worthless.”

Tony chews methodically. There was an apartment in downtown Kingston, close to the water. Big windows, lots of light. A studio, but what more did Tony really need? He didn’t have a boyfriend, then, just the vague idea of maybe wanting one someday. He filled out the application immediately after touring the place. He decided to sleep on it, scan it in on the work computer, and email it to the landlady the next day.

That was the night Gianna knocked on his door at three in the morning.

Nausea and anxiety kept her up, one feeling piling onto the next until she couldn’t take it anymore. She told him everything then—that she’d fallen for a professor and still loved him, that she wasn’t sure if she was eight or ten weeks pregnant because she didn’t understand how people calculated pregnancies, and that she didn’t know what to do.

The next morning, he wheedled his dad into letting him take the day off work and drove Gianna to the Planned Parenthood in Hudson.

He killed the engine on his car and asked her what she wanted.

They sat in complete silence for over an hour before she told him she didn’t want an abortion.

While she and the baby were being examined by a harried nurse, he drove to the nearest CVS, crumpled up the application for the apartment and threw it in the trash can by the door. Then, he went inside, armed with a list of things the internet claimed were good for morning sickness.

“Tell me,” Tony says when he’s swallowed the last of his garlic knot, and Gianna’s friends have stopped laughing. “Who’s taking care of your baby right now?”

Gianna falls silent.

“Ma, right? You know we’re all picking up extra shifts at the garage to make up for you not being there anymore, right? And that’s on top of your tuition.”

He regrets it before he’s even done saying it. Gianna’s tuition has always been a source of guilt. Lobell’s one of the most expensive colleges in the country, and while she has a generous package of federal aid and student loans, her education still puts a hefty dent into their parents’ savings. She was all set to go to community college instead, but Ma talked her around, said it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Said she should be proud.

Tony never disagreed with Ma before now.

“Geez, lighten up.” Sean’s stupid, smug little caterpillar of a mustache twitches on his face. Did he always look this punchable? Why did Tony feel sorry for him the other day at the memorial? “It was a joke, man.”

“Wasn’t very funny.” Under the table, Tony feels Daniel’s ankle knock into his.

“Christ, you’re the perfect fucking son.” Gianna sounds disgusted with him. “Sorry I don’t live up to your expectations or whatever. Guess I’d better go home and be a good little penitent nun since that’s the only acceptable thing for me to do.”

She grabs her jacket off the back of her chair—it’s eighty degrees out; no one should need a damn jacket—and stalks off.

“Gianna,” Tony calls after her.

“Hey, G, you didn’t pay!” Sean cranes his long, goose-like neck to see after her, but she ducks between two twentysomethings in basketball jerseys and leaves out the door.

Lily elbows her boyfriend. “Shut up, Sean. We can spot her.”

“She better pay us back.”

“He’s a real prince,” Tony mutters. “I can tell why Gigi’s friends with him.”

“Tony.” Daniel’s voice is gentle, probably more so than Tony has a right to at the moment.

Sighing, Tony rubs a hand across his forehead. “Sorry. Sorry. I…I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna get out of here?”

Wordlessly, Tony nods.

Daniel takes care of the check. He nods to Lily and Sean and their friend as they leave, wishes them a nice night.

Tony wonders what they think of him and Daniel here together. If they can guess.

“Hope I didn’t make you look bad in front of your students,” he mutters in the car.

Daniel laughs. “Tony, I caught a murderer last semester. A little family argument can’t kill my street cred.”

“Your street cred,” Tony repeats incredulously.

“I said what I said.” With the sun setting around them, Tony can’t see it properly but he thinks the tips of Daniel’s ears are going red.

It’s an effort, but Tony forces himself to relax, his shoulder blades pressed against the driver’s seat instead of hunched up over the wheel and lets go of all the frustration coiled under his ribs with a short, forced laugh. “You’re adorable.”

“Excuse you.” Daniel studiously examines his fingernails. “I am an adult, which means I am dignified and graceful.”

Tony pulls into the tiny parking lot by Daniel’s building, right under the streetlight that’s been out since June but apparently isn’t the landlord’s job to fix. “Whatever you say, baby.”

Daniel pokes him in retaliation, which means Tony has free range to slap his ass as he walks up the stairs in front of Tony, eliciting a squeak that belies Daniel’s claims of dignity.

“Can’t resist,” Tony says when Daniel glares at him.

“A likely story.” Daniel turns away to unlock the door. This leaves Tony free to crowd in close behind him, cupping his ass through his pants. He’s aware, in a distant way, that Daniel’s clothes are not sexy. He’s wearing a slightly creased light green button-down and a pair of gray pants. It’s not that they’re tailor-made; it’s that they look so much like clothes Daniel would wear they’ve become attractive to Tony because he likes the way Daniel looks.

Plus, he gets exclusive access to the ass under those pants, which is a bonus.

“You’re a tease,” Daniel accuses as he gets the door unlocked and steps out of Tony’s grip.

“Trust me, sweetheart.” Tony follows close behind, wraps his arms around Daniel’s waist, and presses his lips against the side of Daniel’s neck. “I fully intend on following through.”

Daniel kicks off his shoes and tilts his head, giving Tony better access. “Tell me more.”

Too busy kissing the juncture of Daniel’s neck and shoulder, Tony doesn’t answer. Instead, he slips his fingers into Daniel’s shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. With his chest pressed to Daniel’s back, he pushes slightly, propelling Daniel toward the living room. They should probably have sex in the bed at least sometimes, but why bother when the living room carpet is plush and soft, and Daniel’s letting Tony unbutton and unzip his pants before sinking them both to the floor?

He can’t say it’s intentional, but he likes the picture it makes, Daniel sprawled across the carpet, a long line of pale skin, arms above his head with Tony hovering over him, kissing him senseless.

Daniel reaches out to touch him, and Tony stops him with a firm grasp on his wrists.

“No.” The gravel in Tony’s voice is a surprise, even to himself. “Keep them there.”

Daniel’s mouth opens and then closes as if he reconsidered saying something. “Make me,” he says after a second’s pause. Despite the words, he puts both arms over his head again.

Rearing back to balance on his knees, Tony undoes his belt buckle and pulls his belt out of its loops. Between his legs, Daniel shifts. Tony wraps the belt around both of Daniel’s wrists and cinches it shut.

“Yeah?” Tony asks after he’s finished, a little belated.

Daniel nods furiously, his head rubbing against the carpet under him, causing his hair to frizz.

There’s no game plan here. Tony didn’t start this with anything specific in mind. The last time they tried something in this vein, it was prearranged, discussed, and Tony knew exactly what he’d do. This time, he just goes for it. He runs soft hands up and down Daniel’s sides, the way he knows will make Daniel squirm. He kisses and licks at Daniel’s nipples until Daniel pants out little breathless gasps. He strokes Daniel’s hard cock, slow and loose enough it won’t get Daniel off so much as tease him mercilessly.

Tony still has his jeans on, and it’s gone from mildly uncomfortable to downright painful in the time it takes Daniel to start pleading with him.

“Come on, Tony, please. Do something.”

“I am.” Tony says it lightly, guilelessly, as he continues to go as slowly as he possibly can. With his free hand, he unbuttons and unzips his pants. Immediately, his cock swells in the looser fabric of his boxer briefs.

For an instant, Tony tightens his hand around Daniel’s cock.

Daniel’s hips twist. “ Tony .”

Immediately, Tony takes his hand away.

Daniel whines . It’s really gratifying.

Tony rocks back onto his heels and stands. He strips off his pants and socks, and then pulls his shirt off over his head. It catches on his ponytail, and he ends up pulling that out as well, but he can’t say he cares. Not with Daniel shifting restlessly on the carpet, waiting for him. He grabs the lube from the coffee table drawer and settles over Daniel again, one knee either side of his hips.

The brush of his cock against Daniel’s sends a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Daniel’s eyes go wide as Tony shifts his hips to start a slow, filthy grind. His mouth parts, and he lets out a stuttering, “Ah—ah, yes.”

It’s too dry and not nearly enough to get either of them there, but it feels good, heat and sweat trapped between their bodies. Tony dips down to kiss Daniel, arching his spine to keep their hips aligned as he does. Daniel kisses him back sloppily, a sure sign he’s pretty far gone.

With Daniel distracted, Tony gropes for the lube and slicks up his fingers. He rubs them across his opening, quick, perfunctory, not terribly interested in drawing this out. When they first started doing this, when it was brand new for Tony, it was always kind of a production. He would make sure to shower thoroughly in advance, worried about any possible unattractive smell or sight. In a rare and uncharacteristically sanguine turn, Daniel assured him he didn’t need to worry too much, and if a person were going to kick up a fuss about unexpected or unpleasant bodily fluids, they probably weren’t ready to have sex in the first place.

At the same time, Daniel used to spend ages opening him up, fingering him and getting him relaxed, sometimes so thoroughly they didn’t make it to the main event. It led to a lot of slow, sweet, romantic sex Tony loved.

That’s not what he’s after tonight.

He’s gotten used to this, is the thing. He knows how to do a decent risk assessment of what he’s eaten in the last day or two, when he last used the bathroom, and when he last showered. He knows he doesn’t need much prep, not when Daniel’s this hard, not when Tony wants to feel it.

He just needs to take it slow to start.

When Tony wraps his slick hand around Daniel’s cock, Daniel’s hips twitch upward so hard he nearly unseats him. Tony strokes Daniel the way he wants but only for as long as it takes to get him wet.

He lets his hips hover over Daniel for a long moment, rubbing the head of Daniel’s cock against his hole until Daniel breathes out “please” in between hungry, panting sounds.

Finally, Tony grabs the base of Daniel’s cock in a firm grip and sinks onto it slowly. He keeps his breathing steady, in and out, keeps relaxed against the urge to tighten up.

“You feel good,” he sighs as he eases down as far as he can go.

“You feel…” Daniel’s trapped hands flex. “You feel…God, Tony…”

Tony keeps it slow to start, teasing. He circles his hips gently until he can get the angle right, massaging his prostate with the head of Daniel’s dick. It’s not enough for Daniel, definitely not, but it feels fantastic. Tony balances on his knees, circling his hips in a slow rhythm, and wraps his hand around his own cock.

He groans and lets his eyes flutter shut.

“The way you look…” Daniel’s one to talk. He’s flushed under Tony, panting for air as his wrists strain against the belt.

“Yeah?” Tony sinks a little deeper, pushes his chest out, and arches his spine more. “Tell me.”

“You look amazing. Fucking yourself on me, using me.”

“You like that, huh, baby?”

“I like being yours,” Daniel says, way too sincere and way too erotic.

Tony rests his hands either side of Daniel’s face and gives up the game. He starts to fuck himself properly, harder as Daniel’s knees draw up behind him, and his feet plant on the floor. “Come on. Give it to me.”

Usually, Daniel would grip his hips and use the leverage to hold Tony still and fuck up into him. Without the option, all he can do is use his legs and ass, making the fuck uneven, hard and soft by turns. It’s a tease as much as it’s fucking hot. When Tony’s knees skid on the carpet, his dick bounces against his own stomach, and rasps against the hair on Daniel’s. Sticky drops of precome leak from the head in the sweaty space between their bodies.

Tony wants it so badly.

He scrambles for the belt buckle, tugs it out, and then he’s got Daniel’s big hand on his hip, holding him down while Daniel drives up into him.

Tony makes sounds he’ll be embarrassed about later, moaning high and tight as he gets what he wants.

“I’m not gonna last,” Daniel pants. “You feel too good, fuck, Tony…”

“C’mon. Take what you want. I want you to. Want to be dripping with you. I need you, Daniel, need you, don’t—don’t stop, don’t leave me.”

It’s too much, too honest, and relief fills Tony when Daniel twists enough to get his other hand out of the tangle of the belt and between their bodies. He circles his thumb and forefinger around Tony’s cock and fucks his hips in hard, right where Tony needs it.

Tony comes immediately, crying out against Daniel’s skin when his knees buckle with the force of it, and he can’t stay upright anymore. His cock still drools out slow ropes of jizz when Daniel grabs his other hip and fucks up one more time with a groan.

His face is flushed red, his eyes are closed, and his mouth is open. He’s so fucking beautiful, and he’s all Tony’s.

After, it takes Tony a few tries to stand up properly. One of his feet fell asleep, circulation cut off from how he’s been sitting on it. Rug burn covers both his knees. Daniel has to help him stay upright in the shower, snickering.

“Shut up,” Tony mumbles. “Worth it.”

“Not arguing.” Daniel strokes a wet hand through Tony’s hair. “Not sure why you didn’t go for the handcuffs we specifically purchased for that kind of thing, but…”

“Oh fuck.” In early August, they went down to the city to visit Daniel’s grad school roommate, Paul. They took an afternoon to go to a sex shop, specifically because of how quickly they’d both come when Tony held Daniel’s hands down against the bed one time. They haven’t gotten around to trying the cuffs out yet. “I totally forgot.”

Daniel laughs, letting his head fall back in the spray. “You were a little focused.”

Tony drops his head forward to Daniel’s shoulder and breathes for a while.

“Hey, Tony?”

“Mm?”

“I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay. But, um…about before, with Gianna…”

“ Really don’t wanna talk about it.”

He feels more than hears Daniel sigh.

“Okay,” Daniel says. “If you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know.”

Under Tony’s head, Daniel’s chest rises and falls evenly. If he’s very quiet, Tony can feel Daniel’s steady heartbeat. He doesn’t want to talk about it; he wasn’t lying. He doesn’t want to fight. But he can’t quite let it go. “Hey, Daniel?”

“Hm?”

“Why’s Lily so upset about the room searches? If she was the one who left the knife?”

Daniel’s shoulders draw tight beneath him. “Good question.”

“You still don’t think she…”

“No.” Daniel heaves a big sigh, hampered by Tony’s weight. “I don’t think she’s the one who left it. It’s probably normal student things she doesn’t want the police to find. Alcohol and weed, right? She was worried about being a suspect just because she found Amelia Lawrence, remember?”

Daniel’s hand settles heavily on Tony’s head, rubbing softly against the shaved sides.

Tony leans into it. “I still have a bad feeling about her. You might be right about the knife, but I think maybe she needs more help than you can give her.”

Daniel doesn’t answer.

Like this, with his face buried in Daniel’s chest, it’s easy to add, “I think maybe I need more help than you can give me.”

“Tony…”

“No, I mean…I was out of line tonight. I don’t want to put all that on you.”

Daniel’s hand stays steady in his hair. “Let me worry about what I can take, okay?”

Tony wants to protest. A relationship should be a two-way street, and if all the restless, residual anger is too much for him, how can he expect Daniel to take it on? But Daniel’s fingers stroke his head so slowly, Daniel’s body is warm and safe under his, and Tony drifts off before he can.