They’d remained curled together on the soft cushions of the couch, just shifting around to spoon together and face the big picture windows, silently watching the fall afternoon sun give way to the blue velvet of evening. Chris enjoyed snuffling in the clean scent of Vin’s hair, reveled in rubbing his hands slowly over the soft fleece of the sweats covering his partner’s thighs. Somehow, with virtually no effort, it was back. That connection that had linked them from the moment their eyes met. They needed no conversation, no explanations, recriminations, excuses.

As the final glow faded from between the branches of the old tree, Vin finally shifted, sighing regretfully.

“Sorry, Chris. Gotta empty the tank.” He carefully extricated himself from Chris’s gentle hold.

Chris stretched. “Guess I’d better do something about the battlefield in the kitchen.”

Vin’s face scrunched into a regretful scowl. “Seems it should be me to do that.”

Smiling, Chris hauled himself to his feet. “You did the cooking; I’ll do the cleanup.”

With a reluctant little laugh, Vin headed down the hall to the bathroom. Chris grabbed a broom and dustpan from the utility closet in the hall, and braved the wreckage in the kitchen.

As he began scooping up the shards of stoneware, Vin appeared in the door. “I can help, Chris.”

“You keep those shoeless feet out of this room, buddy. Bad enough to explain the absence of crockery; I don’t want to have to deal with blood all over those fancy rugs.”

Vin grimaced, then watched as Chris finished the task. “Guess I’ll be spending tomorrow shopping for dishes.”

“Guess you will, Cowboy. Both of us will.” He smiled up from his crouch as he carefully swept the last splinters of glass from under the cupboard’s edge. “Figure we owe him the really expensive stuff, considering.”

“Reckon we do.”

Chris dumped the last load from the dustpan into the trash can.

“Hungry, Vin?”

Vin laughed.  “What we gonna eat on?”

“We could eat out of the pot,” Chris offered.

“Suits me.”

A companionable half hour later, they rinsed the pot and forks, still chuckling over their kitchen campout.

“Gettin’ past my bed time, pard.” Vin’s voice was softly regretful. “Kinda run out of steam pretty fast.”

“Better get yourself off to bed, then. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” Chris shooed Vin toward the stairs.

Vin hesitated, eying the other man doubtfully. “I… uh… will you… Oh, shit!”

“You got something you want to say, Cowboy?”

“I wanna… C’n I… Damn! Will ya sleep with me, Chris? Without… you know…”

Chris pulled him close, smiling into his hair. “Oh, yeah. We can mange that. I can behave for a few hours, I reckon.”

Vin huffed a little laugh against his chest. “Well, might be okay f’r ya t’ misbehave just a little bit…”

The rough little whisper went straight to Chris’s groin.

“Oh, damnit, Vin. You really don’t play fair, do you? Just let me take minute for a cold shower.”

Another laugh, and a tug on his hand propelled him toward the staircase.

Different. There was something different about this particular morning. Same warm sun through the windows of his room in Josiah’s house. Same furry comfort against his back.

And a bigger, harder, not-so-furry warmth pillowing his body.

Vin drew in a sharp breath, eyes snapping open.

Chris.

Memories of the previous evening’s cathartic events swarmed through his mind, and a ball of unbelieving happiness choked him.

Almost afraid to move for fear of banishing the illusion, he carefully lifted his head, feasting his eyes on the man who shared his bed.  Chris still slept, face relaxed and peaceful. The morning sun glinted on the tousle of blond hair falling over his forehead, on the pale, bristly whiskers dusting his cheeks. The glow stroked across the man’s forehead, limned his straight nose, caressed the beautiful curve of his mouth.

Vin leaned forward, sliding his tongue over that lower lip, with its intriguing dip. He felt the mouth move under his own lips, and smiled as he covered it with his own, offering a morning kiss.

Chris’s arms slid up to hold him close; his mouth livened, then opened under Vin’s.

“Mmmm,” Chris murmured through their kiss. His eyelids lifted with slow laziness.

“Shit!” he cried, body shooting upward, knocking Vin back onto the pillows. “What the hell…?”

Vin started laughing, rolling over to offer the offended Aristotle a position on his stomach.

“This here’s Aristotle. He’s sorta used to sleeping with me.”

Chris glared into the cat’s yellow eyes.

“Well, furface, you’ve just lost your privileges” The cat seemed unmoved. “Shit, what a sight to wake up to! That thing’s got a stare’d turn a man to stone!”

Vin snorted, stroking the cat’s long, soft fur. “Look who’s talkin’, pard. And he ain’t losin’ any privileges. I owe him. You do, too, ya know. Damn university oughta give him a diploma—best damn therapist I ever had.”

Chris stared doubtfully at the cat, watching the big gray paws as their claws kneaded in and out against Vin’s thinly covered stomach. He jumped slightly as the cat began to purr, the deep rumble echoing throughout the big, sunny room.

“Damn. Sounds like a two-ton truck.”

“Well, he’s a big fella,” Vin excused, fingers busily scratching around the cat’s ears.

“Yeah, well, that big fella’s mooching in on my territory.” Gingerly, he reached out and removed the heavy animal from his partner’s stomach, earning himself a hiss and a near miss from a vindictive paw.

“Hey!”

Dropping the cat over the side of the bed, Chris rolled over onto Vin’s still-chuckling body. “Like I said, my territory. And I recall receiving permission to get a bit frisky.”

“Frisky?”

“Yup. Frisky.” Vin squirmed as Chris licked a peaking nipple through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, then suckled gently. Laughter fading, he made a sort of surprised, huffing sound, then threaded the fingers of both hands through Chris’s hair, holding that mouth where it was having so effective an impact.

Chris tilted his head upward, meeting Vin’s eyes.

“Well, well, well. What’s that going on down south?”

Vin grinned at him, a bit giddy with relief. It had been a long time.

“Guess ya figured out that negotiation thing, Cowboy.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Chris drowsed in complete content, relishing the weight of the body draped over his.

Must be mid-morning. Hadn’t slept this late in a long time.

Of course, not a lot of sleeping had been going on for the last couple of hours.  He grinned smugly to himself. Hell, no. No sleeping at all.

Well, until this last bit.

Gently, he stroked his hand over Vin’s bare hip, enjoying the press of a bony knee against his own soft genitals, the warm moist breath against his chest, the arm loosely draped over his waist.

He could really get behind the idea of a lifetime of this.

His hand drifted up to card through tangled curls, carefully teasing out the snarls, gently rubbing the scalp beneath.

The stroking slowed as his thoughts drifted to those issues he’d created between himself and his partner. To ways and means of preventing any repetition of his own errors.

“Hey,” a drowsy voice murmured against his chest. “Whatcha stop for?”

“Oh, dear. Playing possum, were we?”

Mutely, Vin pushed his head against Chris’s still hand.  With a soft laugh, Chris resumed his stroking and carding.

Vin settled back against him, sighing in boneless contentment.

Chris shifted his hand down to rub sinewy shoulders. “You remind me of that big, fat cat.”

“Pahrrrrrrrrr,” rumbled against his rib cage.

Chris’s chuckles deepened to full laughter. “Never heard a cat with a drawl before, Cowboy.”

He felt Vin’s smile against his skin. “Texas variety. Best kind.”

“I reckon you’re right.” He continued to stroke and pamper, thoughts slow and languid.

“Y’know,” he yawned. “I figured out what I did wrong.”

“Mm?” Vin seemed to be drifting back toward sleep.

“Yup. From now on, you get to make the rules.”

For a long moment, there was no response, then Vin’s body began shaking, muffled sounds of laughter emerging from the vicinity of Chris’s right nipple.

“What?”

Vin lifted his head, vivid, laughing eyes brilliant in the light from the window. “Reckon that’ll last about a week, pard.”

Chris tightened his jaw stubbornly.

“You sayin’ I got control issues?”

Vin rolled over on his back, leaving Chris cold and abandoned. His laughter rang through the room.

“Cowboy, I figure you ain’t let anybody make your rules since ya learned your first glare. You’s probably about three.”

Pushing himself up on his elbow, Chris glared down at the laughing fool wriggling around in the scrambled sheets.

“Well, then, how about I make a new rule.”

Vin’s laughter faded. He stared affectionately up at the older man.

“We don’t need no rules, Chris.”

“Yeah, Vin. We do. Here’s our new rule. Nobody but us. Forever. Nobody else.”

Those too blue eyes glittered up at him from the pillow.

“That…” Vin’s voice was choked with emotion. “That sounds like a real good rule, Chris.”

He rolled over, wrapping his arms around Chris’s waist and pushing the other man back down on his back.

“Sounds like a rule I could really love,” he whispered, before lowering his head and pressing his mouth against Chris’s.

<<<<<>>>>>

Epilogue:

It had been a grim debriefing. The loss of two veteran agents guaranteed the gloomy mood.

Buck sighed, leaning back and glancing around the table. Despite the reduction of Team Five’s numbers, their conference room was crowded with the addition of the six on-duty members of his own team.

They were all satisfied that the deaths had been unavoidable under the circumstances; there’d been no misconduct, no bad decisions. Just a terrible outcome resulting from panic and unpredictable actions by the men they’d been hunting.

But that didn’t make it any easier to see the sad eyes of the five remaining team members, to see them flinch as Ezra and Nathan settled into the seats obviously usually occupied by the two lost men.

So it was all over now but finalizing the paperwork. A task which, thankfully, fell on the shoulders of the two team leaders.

Chris and Matt Fultz, leader of Team Five, were conferring softly as their teams waited in silence. Finally, with a nod, Chris moved again to the head of the table.

“Thanks, boys. This has been hard on all of us. Especially you guys.” He nodded toward the Team Five members.

“We’ve just got one final issue to take care of. Baker…”

The young sharpshooter straightened sharply, gazing back at Chris with that terrified look so characteristically attributed to startled deer.

“Baker, first I want to sincerely apologize again for the poor introduction you received to my team. You’ve done a great job. Delivered everything I had any right to ask of you. But I kind of figure that you’re never going to be comfortable on my team, thanks to my hard headedness.”

Chris smiled gently at the apprehensive young man. His attempt to ease Baker’s nerves didn’t appear to have much effect.

“Matt and I have been discussing this operation, and particularly your contribution. Team Five is now without a high man, and we both think that it would be best for all concerned if you accepted a lateral transfer from Team Seven to Team Five. Matt was impressed with your professional conduct and the intelligence and accuracy of your actions. Appropriately, I must say. You can start fresh with his team, without the baggage that I loaded on your shoulders when you came to us.”

“We’d be proud to have you, son,” Fultz added. “But it’s up to you.”

The other four members of Team Five were nodding encouragingly toward the young agent, whose face had finally begun to relax. He glanced at Ezra, who smiled and raised two fingers to an imaginary hat brim.

“You’ll receive a very good evaluation from me, Baker,” Chris promised. “There will be no negative impact on your career. Just a more appropriate work situation all around.”

Baker’s face brightened with a smile. “Yes sir… sirs. I’d like that. I mean… Mr. Larabee, I… It’s not that…”

Chris raised his hand. “No need, Baker. I know how uncomfortable you’ve been with us. You were doomed from the start. Congratulations, and the best of luck. You’ll be a valuable addition to Team Five.”

For a few moments, the room was noisy with the farewells and welcomes as the young man was metaphorically passed from one team to the other. Then they slowly begin drifting out the conference room door.

“Boys.”

The Team Seven members turned at Chris’s word.

“You all right with this?”

They exchanged glances.

“Certainly this change is an improvement for Mister Baker,” Ezra said. “However, we are once again without a sharpshooter.”

An odd little smile quirked around Chris’s mouth.

“I’m working on it.”

“Yeah?” Buck tilted his head, a slow smile stretching his mouth. “Anyone we know, stud?”

Chris just smiled smugly and headed for the elevator.

The rest hurried after him, voices tripping over each other as they tried to pry information from him. He just continued to smirk.

Buck trailed behind the others, his own face wreathed in a smile. He’d bet it was someone they knew.

As the elevator reached their floor, Chris reached out a finger and held down the button to prevent the doors from opening.

“All right, boys. I’ve got someone in mind for filling that spot, but he won’t be available for a week or so. You think we can survive until then?”

The others exchanged glances of varying degrees of puzzlement.

Chris’s smirk widened into a grin as they heard a commotion from the other side of the barrier. He released the control allowing the door to open, and stepped back as the others swept past him, then skidded to a halt, grins spreading across their features.

Josiah, enthroned in his rented wheelchair, was wedged in the doorway to the break room, yelling instructions to the thin young man crouched behind him, apparently responsible for his predicament.

At the various calls from the team members, Josiah’s attendant straightened, crooked grin brightening the room.

“Hey, y’all.”

Buck winced at JD’s answering shout of delight. He glanced at his old friend, heart warming at the broad smile stretching Chris’s mouth.

“So, boys. Will he do?”

As delighted noise rose around them, Buck threw an arm around Chris’s neck, hugging enthusiastically.

“All right, pard! You finally got it right!”