Chapter 3 Heat Between Us #2
He simply came back outside and continued walking toward the station.
Nico watched him disappear through the firehouse doors.
He smiled to himself.
The man had spent days making sure everyone believed he wanted to be left alone.
Yet he had noticed a stranger struggling from halfway down the block.
That evening, Gideon crossed the street again.
Nico was repairing a loose hinge on one of the cabinets near the front workstation.
“You're staring,” Gideon said.
Nico looked up.
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking.”
“About me?”
Nico smiled.
“Maybe.”
Gideon shook his head and walked farther inside.
His eyes moved toward the cabinet.
“What happened?”
“The hinge is loose.”
“You need a screwdriver.”
“I know.”
“Where is it?”
“Somewhere.”
Gideon looked at him.
Nico shrugged.
“I have one. I just don't know where I put it.”
Gideon sighed.
“You're a tattoo artist.”
“I know.”
“You use precision equipment all day.”
“Yes.”
“And you can't keep track of a screwdriver.”
“Apparently not.”
Gideon walked toward the back room.
Nico followed him.
“You don't have to fix it.”
“I know.”
“You just got here.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you fixing it?”
Gideon opened a drawer and found the screwdriver.
“Because it's broken.”
Nico leaned against the doorframe.
That was apparently all the explanation he was going to get.
Gideon crouched beside the cabinet and began tightening the hinge.
His large hands moved carefully, the same hands Nico had seen carrying equipment and handling heavy tools at the station. There was nothing rough about the way he worked. He tested the hinge, adjusted the screw, and checked the door twice before standing.
“There.”
Nico opened and closed it.
“Perfect.”
Gideon nodded.
“Thank you.”
He started toward the front.
“You know,” Nico said, “you don't have to pretend you hate helping people.”
Gideon stopped.
“I don't.”
“You carried Mrs. Alvarez's groceries.”
“She needed help.”
“You fixed my cabinet.”
“It was broken.”
“You're proving my point.”
Gideon looked back at him.
“You talk too much.”
Nico smiled.
“You like listening.”
“I don't.”
“You're still here.”
Gideon had no answer to that.
He walked toward the front counter.
Nico followed.
His apprentice, Mateo, was sitting at one of the workstations sorting tattoo needles into organized trays. Mateo had been working with Nico for almost a year and had a habit of asking too many questions when someone interesting entered the shop.
Gideon seemed to qualify.
Mateo looked up.
“You're the firefighter.”
Gideon nodded.
“Gideon.”
“Yeah.”
Mateo glanced at the scars visible near Gideon's collar.
Then he quickly looked away.
Gideon noticed.
Nico noticed too.
Mateo looked uncomfortable.
“Sorry.”
Gideon shook his head.
“You don't have to apologize.”
Mateo looked back at him.
“Were you burned?”
Nico expected Gideon to shut down.
Instead, Gideon answered calmly.
“Yes.”
Mateo hesitated.
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
Nico watched Gideon's face.
There was no anger in it.
No irritation.
Only restraint.
Mateo nodded.
“I've been trying to learn more about scar tissue.”
Gideon glanced toward Nico.
“Then ask him.”
“I have.”
Mateo smiled.
“He says I need more experience.”
“You do.”
Mateo looked offended.
Nico laughed.
Gideon looked at the apprentice for a moment.
Then he said, “He's right.”
Mateo frowned.
“You're supposed to support me.”
“I'm supporting him.”
Nico laughed again.
Mateo eventually joined him.
For the next several minutes, Gideon stayed.
He answered Mateo's questions about working around damaged skin without giving details about his own injuries. When Mateo showed him a sketch he had been struggling with, Gideon didn't pretend to understand tattoo design. He simply pointed out that the proportions looked uneven.
Mateo stared at him.
“How can you tell?”
“I work with measurements.”
Nico watched as Gideon patiently explained what he meant.
The man who had barely tolerated conversation during his first days at the station was now standing in the studio helping a young apprentice understand balance and proportion.
Nico couldn't stop smiling.
Gideon finally noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you know something.”
Nico leaned against the counter.
“Maybe I do.”
Gideon folded his arms.
“And what's that?”
“That you're not cold.”
Gideon's expression hardened.
“I never said I was.”
“You don't have to.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Gideon looked away.
Nico understood.
The walls weren't there because Gideon didn't care.
They were there because he cared too much and had learned what happened when he let people close.
That realization changed the way Nico saw him.
Gideon wasn't a man without softness.
He was a man who had buried his softness beneath layers of discipline because softness had become dangerous.
Later that evening, Mateo left for the night.
Nico finished cleaning the last workstation while Gideon stood near the front window.
The street outside was quiet.
“You're becoming a regular,” Nico said.
“I come here sometimes.”
“You've been here four times this week.”
“That's not regular.”
“For someone who claims he doesn't like being here, it is.”
Gideon looked at him.
Nico smiled.
“I'm just observing.”
“You observe too much.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Gideon shook his head.
Nico moved toward the counter and passed him a cup of water.
Their hands nearly touched.
Gideon's fingers stopped.
Nico noticed.
He didn't move closer.
Instead, he looked at Gideon.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Depends.”
“May I touch your arm?”
Gideon's expression changed.
The question seemed to surprise him.
Nico waited.
“You don't have to say yes.”
“I know.”
Gideon looked down at his forearm.
The tattoos on Nico's arms were visible beneath the studio lights, dark lines disappearing beneath his sleeves. Gideon seemed to study them for a moment before looking back at Nico.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
The honesty seemed to catch Gideon off guard.
Nico continued softly.
“But I won't unless you want me to.”
Gideon was silent.
Then he extended his arm.
“Yes.”
Nico reached out slowly.
His fingertips touched Gideon's forearm.
Nothing dramatic happened.
No sudden movement.
No kiss.
No confession.
Just skin against skin.
But Nico felt the change immediately.
Gideon's muscles were tense beneath his fingers, yet he didn't pull away.
Nico kept the contact light.
He didn't explore the scars.
He didn't move higher.
He simply rested his hand there for a moment.
Gideon looked down at their hands.
His breathing had changed.
Nico could feel the tension beneath his fingertips, but he also felt something else.
Trust.
It was small.
Fragile.
But it was there.
Nico removed his hand before Gideon needed to ask.
“Thank you,” he said.
Gideon looked at him.
“For what?”
“For trusting me.”
Gideon's jaw tightened.
“I don't know if I do.”
Nico smiled.
“You said yes.”
Gideon looked down again.
For a few seconds, he seemed unsure what to do with the words.
Then he nodded.
“Good night, Nico.”
“Good night, Gideon.”
Gideon walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he glanced back.
Nico was standing behind the counter.
Their eyes met.
Gideon gave him a small nod and stepped outside.
Nico watched him cross the street.
He knew the gesture had meant more than Gideon would ever admit.
A man like Gideon did not give trust away casually.
He measured it.
Tested it.
Pulled it back whenever he felt too exposed.
Tonight, he had allowed Nico to touch him and had stayed.
That was enough.
For now.
Nico turned off the studio lights one by one.
Across the street, Gideon entered the firehouse.
He stopped near the bay doors and looked down at his forearm.
He could still feel Nico's hand there.
The contact had lasted only a few seconds, yet Gideon couldn't remember the last time another person had touched him without making him feel like something was wrong.
Nico hadn't tried to examine him.
He hadn't asked about the scars.
He hadn't tried to understand the pain behind them.
He had simply asked.
And Gideon had chosen to say yes.
For a man who had spent years controlling every distance between himself and everyone else, that small decision felt far more significant than it should have.
He looked across the street one last time.
The studio was dark.
Gideon turned away.
But the memory of Nico's hand remained with him long after he went upstairs.
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