9. System Crash
SYSTEM CRASH
GREG
Magnus Trainor’s computer is on the floor.
And not just on the floor—more like in several distinct pieces on the floor.
The tower’s side panel is popped off, a chunk of casing cracked, cables splayed like spaghetti. The monitor face-planted so hard the screen cracked like a spiderweb. The mouse cable looks like it’s been chewed through.
I blink. “So, uh… what exactly happened here?”
Magnus, CEO of Labyrinth and all-around perfectly pressed, stands behind his desk looking uncharacteristically rumpled. His horns are tilted, his tie’s loosened, and—most alarming of all—his calm corporate smile has been replaced with something approaching sheepish guilt.
“Sorry. Jamie and I were going over some… reports, and um, well, moving things around and, well, um, I’m not exactly sure how the computer became a victim.”
I cough into my hand. Loudly. “Okay. Well. Moving past how the computer died and focusing on the fact that it’s dead, I can have you set up with a replacement by tomorrow morning.”
Magnus exhales. “Greg, you’re a miracle worker. Can you make sure my files are restored too? I’ve got a client presentation tomorrow afternoon.”
“Absolutely,” I say automatically. Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “Though maybe next time… keep the equipment off the battlefield.”
Magnus looks like he’s debating whether to blush or roar. “Duly noted,” he says finally. “Sorry about this. Again.”
“All in a day's work.” I smile and gather up what’s left of the system, trying not to notice the faint scent of cologne and something muskier in the air.
I don’t envy Dex, our floor’s custodian, a dragon with an engineer’s heart and a label-maker addiction.
He’ll take one look at this disaster and sigh smoke rings of disappointment.
By the time I get back to my desk, my cart’s full of wreckage. I’ve just started imaging a replacement tower when I hear footsteps in the hallway.
Sean’s voice.
“Greg?”
Just hearing his voice makes my pulse tick up. He leans through the doorway—collar loosened, sleeves rolled, messenger bag slung over one shoulder. His hair’s slightly tousled, like he’s been running a hand through it all day, and gods, I wish that hand had been mine.
“Hey,” I say, trying not to sound like I’ve been replaying the night in the server room every spare moment since it happened. “Burning the midnight oil?”
He grins. “That’s my line. You, on the other hand, look like you’re settling in for a long one.”
“Magnus’s computer met an untimely death,” I admit. “Apparently it… fell off his desk.”
Sean raises an eyebrow. “Fell.”
“Yup. Gravity’s a menace.”
“Was he alone?”
I give him a pointed look. “When he called me? Yes.”
He laughs, a bright, warm sound that fills the tiny space. “Poor Greg. Always the cleanup crew.”
“Someone’s gotta keep Labyrinth from imploding.”
“Want some help?” He smiles, a slight, barely there smile, like only half his face is on board.
The words throw me. “You? You don’t have to—”
“I mean, I can’t exactly rewire a server, but I can at least order food. You’ve been here all day already.”
My stomach growls in traitorous agreement. “You don’t have to do that,” I say again, even softer this time.
“I want to,” he says. “Come on. You’ve saved my ass like, what, three thousand times now? Let me feed you. Fair trade.”
That shouldn’t make me as happy as it does, but there’s no stopping the grin spreading across my face. “Okay. You win. Pizza?”
“Yes, it’s our thing, right?” He grins, and, gods, has there ever been a more perfect smile. “I’m on it,” he says, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll get three pies.” He pats his stomach.
I laugh. “You remember.”
“Of course I do. And I remember two wasn’t enough. You think I’d forget our first pizza date?”
I look at him, and something inside me aches a little. I thought he’d been avoiding me since that night. Maybe I pushed too far. Maybe he regretted it. But here he is—still smiling, still enticing. Maybe… not scared after all.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ve gotta grab a replacement system from storage. Meet me back here when it arrives?”
He gives a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain. I’ll bring rations.”
By the time I haul the new tower into the office, most of the building’s lights have gone into power-save mode, throwing the hallways into that strange half-light where everything seems to hibernate.
Sean’s not back yet, so I start setting up Magnus’s profile on the new system. My fingers move automatically over the keys, muscle memory taking over, but my thoughts drift.
To Sean.
To the way he’d looked that night, breathless and blushing and so alive.
To the soft noise he made when my hands touched his hips.
To the way he said my name—like it meant something.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. He’s my mate, sure, but that doesn’t mean I get to rush him. If friendship’s all he can handle, then I’ll take it. I’ll take every smile, every small kindness, every moment he gives me.
The door opens, and I swear the scent of pepperoni and sausage hits before the sound of his voice.
“Delivery for the overworked IT guy,” he announces.
He’s holding three greasy boxes, the kind that promise salvation, and a paper bag with drinks.
“You’re a hero,” I tell him.
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”
He sets the boxes down on my desk and slides into the chair across from me. “So, what did Magnus do, really?”
“I’ve been advised by counsel not to answer that question.”
Sean laughs. “He and Jamie...”
“Allegedly.”
He opens the first box, the smell of melted cheese and roasted peppers filling the room. “Okay, but hypothetically, if a certain someone managed to destroy the CEO’s computer in a fit of… enthusiasm, how bad would it be?”
“Hypothetically?” I grin. “They’d owe me at least three pizzas.”
“Then I’m saving you from filing that invoice.”
He hands me a slice, his fingers brushing mine, and for an instant, everything else fades—the whir of the servers, the dim office light, the rest of the world. Just him.
“So,” he says, sitting back. “Another late night, huh?”
“Yeah. I’ll have to rebuild his presentation files and make sure the backups sync.”
He tilts his head. “Do you want company while you work? I mean, I’m already here. There’s nothing waiting for me at home but crappy TV.”
The way he says it—light, almost shy—makes something in my chest squeeze.
“You don’t have to stay,” I repeat, because it’s the polite thing to say, even if every part of me hopes he will.
“Yeah, but maybe I want to.”
Sean looks down, picking at his crust, and I think I catch the faintest blush on his cheeks.
“Well,” I say finally, trying to keep my voice steady, “I can’t turn down good company. Especially when it comes with pizza.”
“Perfect.” He leans back, satisfied. “Then it’s settled. You fix the universe. I provide sustenance. Teamwork.”
And for the next few minutes, we eat in comfortable silence, side by side.
Sean tells me a story about a meeting in Franklin’s office that went off the rails when Magnus’s tail accidentally knocked over an entire pot of coffee. I counter with the tale of the time I shorted the building’s Wi-Fi by plugging a surge protector into itself. Oops.
By the time we’re laughing so hard our sides ache, I realize something dangerous: I’m falling. Fast.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s falling too.
I look down at my pizza, pretending to focus on the burnt edge of the crust. “Thanks again. For keeping me company. And the pizza.”
“Of course,” he says. “I didn’t want you to eat vending machine pretzels.”
“That and you just like being the hero.”
He grins. “Guilty.”
Our knees bump again, and this time neither of us moves away. The hum of the servers fills the silence between us, steady and warm.
I could live in this moment.
I could stay right here—half a slice of pizza in hand, Sean laughing softly beside me, the world outside fading into background noise.
And I don’t even realize I’m staring until he looks back and smiles, small and quiet and a little shy.
Something shifts, like a current catching me off guard.
I swallow hard. “I should, uh… probably finish up Magnus’s setup.”
“Sure,” he says, but he doesn’t move. “Or we could just… sit here for a bit.”
That hopeful lilt in his voice unlocks something in me.
“Yeah,” I say, softer. “We could.”
We don’t talk much after that. We just eat, side by side, sharing warmth and silence. Every so often, his shoulder brushes mine, and each time, I feel it all the way to my toes.