Chapter 31 #2
“Good answer.” Zenko glanced down the hallway before looking back at him. “Now get over here and show me where I’m supposed to put my shit, because if I pick the wrong room, I’m claiming it permanently.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I know the plumbing still works.” He crossed the kitchen toward him, but whatever smart-ass response he’d expected died when Zenko caught the front of his shirt and pulled him the last few inches. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing my man.” Zenko’s mouth curved as he drew him closer, careful of his own neck even while his eyes made the challenge clear.
“We’ve been on military transports, civilian flights, and surrounded by people since we left the hospital.
I’ve been waiting since somewhere over the fucking Atlantic to do this. ”
“Then stop talking.” He closed the distance and kissed him, keeping it easy when every instinct wanted more.
Zenko tasted like coffee and barbecue sauce, and the first slow brush of his tongue had him forgetting about dust, questionable plumbing, and everything waiting to be dealt with beyond the two of them.
When Zenko tried to deepen the kiss, he held himself back, refusing to let the heat building between them make him careless with a man who still had a healing bullet wound beneath the collar of his shirt.
“You’re doing it again.” Zenko broke the kiss but stayed close enough that his breath still warmed his lips.
“I know what careful feels like, babe, and you’ve been treating me like I’m one wrong move away from breaking since I woke up in that hospital.
I’m standing here. I’m healing. You’re allowed to fucking kiss me. ”
“I know.” He kissed him again, deeper this time, until Zenko’s quiet sound against his mouth sent heat straight through him.
He pulled away before his body could start making decisions his brain wasn’t ready to approve.
“I also know you nearly died not so long ago, so if you’re expecting me to bend you over the nearest available surface tonight, you’re going to be seriously fucking disappointed. ”
“I can live with disappointed.” Zenko gave him one last kiss before releasing his shirt and looking toward the bags they had abandoned near the mudroom. “Go make sure your house isn’t about to flood itself. I’ll find sheets and towels, then we can eat before you fall over.”
“I’m not the one who got shot.” He headed for the utility room and turned the water fully on before making a slow circuit through the house, listening for anything that shouldn’t be running and checking beneath sinks as he went.
By the time he returned to the kitchen, Zenko had found towels and dumped them over the back of the couch.
“Everything works. Hot water might take a few minutes, but we have electricity, plumbing, and somewhere to sleep. Anything else can wait until morning.”
“Coffee can’t.” Zenko had already discovered the machine tucked beneath one of the cabinets and was studying it with the concentration he usually reserved for considerably more dangerous equipment.
“Tell me you have filters somewhere, because I refuse to wake up tomorrow and discover we have beans, a coffee maker, and no fucking way to introduce one to the other.”
“Cupboard above you.” He waited until Zenko found the filters, then pointed toward the grinder farther along the counter.
“Set it for seven. There should be bottled water in the pantry if you don’t trust whatever’s been sitting in the pipes, and make it strong enough that I can smell it from the bedroom. ”
“Seven it is.” Zenko started measuring beans into the grinder before looking over his shoulder.
“Now answer some important questions. Brisket or ribs? Potato salad or coleslaw? Pickles? Sauce on the meat or on the side? And how emotionally attached are you to eating at an actual table after spending most of the last twenty-four hours sitting in fucking airplanes?”
“Brisket, potato salad, pickles, sauce on the side, and if you make me sit at that table, I may reconsider how much I love you.” He leaned against the counter while Zenko finished setting the coffee and started sorting through the takeout containers.
“We can take it all to the bedroom, eat in bed, watch something completely fucking mindless, and leave every problem we have until morning.”
“Now that sounds like a plan.” Zenko found a couple of plates and started loading them before glancing toward the hallway.
“Point me at the bedroom, babe. I’ll get this set up while you grab whatever else we need, because if you tell me you haven’t eaten since Germany, I’m going to be seriously fucking pissed. ”
“I ate.” Shaun caught the look Zenko sent him and immediately knew that answer wasn’t going to survive interrogation.
“There was something on the plane that claimed to be chicken, and I had half a protein bar before we landed. I’ve had coffee since then, so technically I’ve covered most of the important food groups. ”
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Zenko added more brisket to the plates before taking both and nodding toward the takeout containers still spread across the counter.
“Grab the rest, get us some water, and bring the Jack if you’ve got any.
Then you’re going to sit your ass down and eat while I ask you approximately a million questions about the secret house you forgot to mention. ”
“A million?” He opened a cabinet and found the bottle of Jack exactly where he’d left it before collecting two bottles of water from the pantry. “You’d better make them good questions, because I’m invoking my right to refuse anything that might result in me having to kill you afterward.”
“Perfect.” Zenko started toward the hallway with the plates balanced carefully in his hands. “First question. Which door is the bedroom?”
“The one at the end.” He followed Zenko into the bedroom and found the bed still made beneath the lightweight cover he’d thrown over it before leaving eighteen months ago.
“Well, shit. Apparently Past Me occasionally thinks ahead. Put the food down somewhere before you decide that plate belongs on my clean sheets.”