Chapter Nine #2
“Nope. The customs agent heard him sneeze and totally ignored the escort’s wishes and opened up the crate.
They found him curled up with a sleeping bag, a few bottles filled with piss, and about twenty granola bar wrappers.
” Arrow shook his head. “He’d embezzled two million dollars and spent a good chunk of it on the world’s most uncomfortable escape plan. ”
Flint laughed. “That’s amazing. You’d think he’d almost be glad someone got him out before he suffocated.”
“We’ll never know. But now it’s your turn.” Arrow pointed his fork at Flint. “Funniest job.”
Flint thought for a moment. “I was hired to take out a bear shifter who’d gone rogue, and he’d been killing humans in Seattle. I set up my shot in an abandoned building, and I had the perfect angle. Right before I pulled the trigger, a pigeon landed on my rifle barrel.”
Arrow’s eyebrows rose. “A pigeon.”
“A damned pigeon. And it wouldn’t leave.
I tried shooing it, but every time I moved, it flew away and then came right back.
Meanwhile, my target was walking around below, completely oblivious.
” Flint gestured with his hands. “Finally, I named the pigeon Renaldo and accepted my new life as a pigeon dad.”
“What happened? Did you get the shot?”
“Renaldo eventually flew away, and I took my shot, completed the contract, and went home. But for about ten minutes, I genuinely considered abandoning the job because I didn’t want to disturb my new feathered friend. He seemed very interested in what I was doing.”
Arrow laughed - a real, unguarded sound that transformed his entire face. “You named the pigeon.”
“Renaldo deserved a name. He had personality.” Flint took a bite of his chicken, pleased with how relaxed he felt. It all seemed very natural, as though they were actually getting to know each other instead of just dancing around the disaster of their first meeting.
They traded more stories over dinner. Arrow described the banker who’d tried to bribe him with a limited edition comic book.
“It was actually worth about fifteen grand, so I appreciated the effort.” Flint told him about the time he’d had to abort a shot because his target stopped to help an elderly woman carry her groceries.
“It turns out that was one instance where the man was a decent guy being framed by his business partner. When I saw what he was doing, I asked Cyrus to check out the sources again, and it turned out we’d been given details on the wrong guy.”
“Wait.” Arrow set down his fork. “You investigate your targets?”
“Well, I don’t, but Cyrus insists on it.” Flint met Arrow’s eyes. “We don’t take jobs where the target is innocent. Every contract gets vetted. If something smells wrong, we dig until we find the truth.”
“That’s...” Arrow shook his head slowly. “That’s more than most law enforcement does.”
“We’re assassins with a conscience.” Flint’s mouth quirked. “Strange concept, I know.”
“No, it’s…” Arrow paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “It’s honorable. You could just take the money and not care, but you choose to care anyway.”
The sincerity in Arrow’s voice made Flint’s chest warm. He wasn’t mocking or being condescending - he seemed to have a genuine respect for what Flint and his friends did.
By the time dessert arrived - tiramisu for Flint, cannoli for Arrow - Flint found himself leaning forward on his elbows, gesturing with his fork as he made his point. Arrow’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and he’d stopped sitting so rigidly straight in his chair.
“Pineapple is a fruit,” Flint said, wrinkling his nose. “It has no business on pizza.”
“Your loss.” Arrow speared a bite of cannoli. “Sweet and savory is a classic combination.”
They moved on to superhero movies - Arrow defending The Dark Knight with the passion of someone who’d clearly had that same argument before, while Flint pointed out that Iron Man had started an entire universe.
Then, somehow, they ended up on reality TV, both of them dancing around whether or not they watched it, until Arrow’s careful phrasing gave him away.
“I’m not saying I watch The Bachelor,” Arrow said, fighting a smile. “I’m just saying if it happens to be on while I’m eating dinner, I don’t change the channel.”
“Right. And I don’t have a spreadsheet tracking who’s dated who across all fifteen seasons of Drag Race.” Flint grinned. “It just exists.”
“You have a spreadsheet?”
“It might even be color-coded.”
Arrow’s laugh made something in Flint’s chest settle into place. This was what he’d needed to see. Not just apologies or grand gestures, but proof that Arrow could be someone Flint actually enjoyed spending time with, someone he could talk to and who made him laugh instead of feeling small.
When the check came, Arrow reached for it immediately. Flint let him, knowing it was important. Arrow needed to show he could provide and take care of things - it was the wolf way. Flint could give him that without losing anything of himself.
Outside, the evening air was crisp and clean, stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on dark velvet. Flint breathed deep, tasting pine and the promise of snow on the wind.
“Would you like to walk for a bit?” Flint asked, surprising himself.
Arrow’s face lit up before he carefully schooled his expression to something more neutral. “Yes, I’d like that.”
They started down the sidewalk, past the warm glow of storefronts and the handful of people enjoying the evening. Flint was hyperaware of Arrow beside him - close enough that their arms occasionally brushed, far enough that Arrow wasn’t crowding his space.
After half a block of comfortable silence, Arrow asked quietly, “Would you mind if I held your hand?”
Flint stopped walking. Arrow stopped too, patient and waiting. He didn’t reach out, he didn’t assume, he was just asking…
He asked.
“Yes,” Flint said softly. “You can.”
Arrow’s hand was warm when it closed around Flint’s, not a hint of grabbing or pulling Flint closer. Just their palms pressed together, with their fingers interlacing slowly. The mate bond sang at the contact, easing the ache that had been building since they’d first met.
They walked in silence for a while, and Flint realized this was the first time he’d felt completely comfortable with Arrow. The fear had gone, and so had the anger. Flint didn’t feel the need to defend himself; there was just peace and the possibility of something good.
“Thank you,” Arrow said eventually.
“For what?”
“For giving me a chance I don’t deserve.” Arrow’s thumb brushed across Flint’s knuckles. “For this.”
Flint looked up at the stars, feeling the weight of the decision ahead of him.
Arrow had changed so much in the space of a day.
And yet, even though the actions were huge, Flint didn’t get a sense for a second that Arrow had done any of it as a means to push him into more than he was ready for.
He’d done it as a chance to prove himself with actions, not words.
“You’re doing better,” Flint admitted. “I’m enjoying this. Tonight…tonight was good.”
Arrow’s hand tightened slightly around his. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”
Flint didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.” He smiled. “I’d like that. You have my number, now. Text me when you’re awake.”
They walked until the shops gave way to residential streets, when Flint’s phone buzzed with a text from Storm asking if he needed extraction. Flint assured him everything was fine and let Arrow walk him back to Angelo’s, where Storm and Pax were waiting in his truck.
Before Flint got in, Arrow squeezed his hand one more time. “Goodnight, Flint.”
“Goodnight, Arrow, and thank you.”
Flint climbed into the back of Storm’s truck, making sure the dessert cart that was lodged in there wouldn’t hit him on his hip, and Storm steered the truck into traffic. When Flint looked back, he saw Arrow still standing there, watching them go, something soft and hopeful on his face.
“Well?” Storm asked.
“It was good,” Flint said quietly. “Really good.” And for the first time since meeting his mate, he let himself believe it might actually work out. “Now, tell me why I’m sharing this back seat with a dessert cart? Did Pax do his invisible pixie stunt again?”