Chapter 8 #2
Things had been weird between them since the locker room, and Hudson’s default response to weird was to walk directly at it until it stopped.
So maybe if he just... grabbed a chair. Acted normal. Proved they could exist in the same room without it being a thing.
Completely absorbed, Shaw turned a page every other minute. Hudson could leave him alone. Probably should. But that would be so unlike him.
He moved to his side.
"Shaw." Hudson leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the cover. "What're you reading?"
Shaw shifted the book slightly, angling it away. "A book."
"I got that, genius. What book?"
"Does it matter?"
“Yeah, it does. You're being weird about it." Hudson reached for it.
Shaw pulled it back way too fast.
"Oh, now I have to see it."
"Hale—"
Hudson lunged for it.
Shaw twisted away, protecting the book with his good hand while trying to keep Hudson at bay with the wrapped one. It didn't work. Hudson moved faster, a little reckless, and he managed to get his fingers on the spine.
“Come on.” Hudson laughed.
"No."
They grappled, half-standing, as Shaw's chair scraped backward. Hudson got a better grip and pulled, using his weight for an advantage, but Shaw refused to budge.
For a second they stilled, both gripping the book between them. Shaw's shoulders bunched under his shirt, every muscle in his neck pulled taut with determination. Their faces were inches apart, both grinning like morons.
A grinning Shaw was so off-brand that Hudson nearly forgot what they were fighting over.
Then he yanked harder and the book came free. He stumbled back, holding it up like a trophy.
Shaw glared at him with an intensity that was probably supposed to be intimidating. Hudson raised his eyebrows. The Art of War by Sun Tzu. "Seriously?"
Oh, if looks could kill.
"Give it back,” Shaw said.
"You're reading military strategy? For fun?"
"It's not for fun."
"Then what's it for?"
Shaw crossed his arms, careful with his wrapped hand. "Understanding."
Flipping through a few pages, Hudson scanned the text. The spine was cracked with wear, pages dog-eared, notes filling the margins in Shaw's precise handwriting. "You know we're already in the military, right? This feels a little overkill."
"Give. It. Back."
Hudson held it out of reach, smirking. “Nah.”
Shaw closed the distance fast, reaching for the book. Hudson dodged, laughing, keeping it just out of reach. Shaw followed, and suddenly they were moving around the clunky worn-down furniture like idiots—Hudson holding the book high; Shaw trying to grab it without hurting his hand.
"Hale, I swear to God—"
"You swear what?" Hudson taunted, backing toward the wall.
Shaw lunged. Hudson tried to sidestep but Shaw anticipated it, cutting him off. They collided, shoulders bumping, and Shaw used the momentum to reach past his guard and snatch the book back.
Hudson felt Shaw's exhale against his mouth.
Color flooded Shaw’s cheeks. His eyes shone a bright green, clearer than usual. His lips parted slightly, breath coming fast. He didn’t step back, he just studied Hudson’s face with an unreadable expression.
If Hudson just leaned forward maybe six inches— Heat crawled up his spine, and he was very aware it had fuck-all to do with wrestling over a book.
"Got it," Shaw said quietly, voice dropping lower.
Hudson swallowed, mouth dry. "Yeah. Gotta win at something, I guess."
Neither of them moved.
He should though. Should step back, make a joke, do literally anything except stand here staring at Shaw's mouth and wondering what the fuck he was doing thinking about—
Someone cleared their throat from across the room.
Shaw stepped back instinctively.
Leaning against the door frame stood Briggs. How long had he been there?
Briggs's expression shifted, mouth curling.
Shaw shot Hudson one last look, then he turned toward the door and left, leaving Hudson behind.
Briggs watched him go, before shooting a calculating look at Hudson. "Interrupting something?"
"No," Hudson said flatly.
Casually, he entered the room. "You and Shaw are pretty tight these days."
Hudson forced himself not to look at the door where Shaw had just left, or to react to Briggs's tone. He would do nothing that would confirm whatever the fuck Briggs thought he'd seen.
"We get partnered a lot. Not our decision." He kept his voice level.
"Right." Briggs let his gaze drag over Hudson. "You two ever take a break from each other?"
He let it hang there—not quite an accusation, but close enough.
Hudson grabbed the deck of cards someone had left on the table and started shuffling, keeping his hands occupied. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Just here to pick up my jacket." He grabbed it from the back of one of the couches and headed for the door. "See you around, Hale.”
The door closed behind him.
Cards moved through Hudson’s fingers on autopilot.
Shit.
A few minutes ago, Hudson had been standing there thinking about closing that six-inch gap between him and Shaw.
What even was that? Hudson had never thought about kissing another guy. Not once in his entire life.
And now, if Briggs had walked in thirty seconds later—
Hudson dropped into the nearest chair.
He was so fucked.