Chapter Text
Chris stood up without answering, went straight to the bar, and ordered three shots and a beer. Leon's favorite draft. Or used to be, ten years ago. Fuck if Chris knew anything anymore. He stood and watched the tender pour out the drinks, broad back turned tensely on the others.
Behind him, seated, Leon said quietly, "I'd say that went well."
Grace's frown only deepened. Her knee bounced under the table.
"Hey," Leon's hand slid confidently onto her thigh, stilling her. "Either way, it's gonna be fine."
"Okay," she said, unconvincingly. Then, all in one breath, "I just don't want him to hate me."
"He doesn't. He won't." Leon leaned into her. "And I can tell, because he definitely hates me."
"Oh, yeah?" Grace cracked a slight smile.
Leon's shoulders loosened. "Keeps things fresh. Spice of life. You know how it is."
"I'm not sure I... Hi," Grace chirped.
Chris was back, unloading drinks onto the table before sliding heavily into the opposite side of the booth from Leon and Grace. Both sat up a little straighter.
"Chris?" Leon said, reluctant. "I, ah... heh. You know I don't do shots."
"Yeah, that's why I didn't get you any." Chris pawed the shot glasses over towards his side of the table, then slid the beer in Leon's direction. "You still drink that Zapata shit?"
Leon set aside his soda and wrapped a hand around the frosty glass. "On special occasions."
The two men narrowed their eyes at each other in some unspoken negotiation via mutual frowning that Grace couldn't follow. Chris broke away first, turning sharply towards her. "You driving?"
"Uh, n-no." His gaze was like a spotlight pointed directly at Grace. "W-w-we're not, um... we're parked..." She looked to Leon for help.
Chris's eyes followed, eyebrow raised in an unasked question.
"Got a room," Leon answered. "Couple blocks down the road."
"Of course you did." Chris shook his head. The two of them had prepared for this. Discussed it amongst themselves. Even dressed up for it, with Leon in one of his sluttiest V-necks — the kind he knew Chris had a terrible weakness for — and Grace in a pretty little number that flattered her figure. The color of its floral pattern matched Leon's shirt. Chris wondered if they chose the outfits together, or if they just had similar taste. Either made his stomach flip. He looked from one to the other: a matching pair, hope and anticipation, aimed at him point-blank. Then he downed a shot.
Leon started in on his beer. Grace finished the drink she ordered when they sat down, the last drops of it rattling the straw.
Chris wiped his mouth, picked up one of the remaining shots, and plunked it in front of Grace. "You sure about this?"
Leon huffed. "It was her idea—"
"I didn't ask you," Chris said, loud enough to shut Leon up. He'd done nearly all of the talking to this point, and Chris was over it. "I asked her."
Leon had cautioned Grace that his husband was a big, tough guy, but nothing could have prepared her for the big man's hulking intensity, or his dark-eyed glowering stare. He towered above her, broad and muscular and slightly terrifying, and... she understood a little better now what Leon had tried to explain to her, about his husband and their sex life. It was hard to imagine Leon being manhandled, lifted off his feet, fucked senseless, made to beg. Easier to picture with hundreds of pounds of husband sitting right in front of her. He looked like he could do all that and more. But— oh god, she was thinking about this a little too long, wasn't she? "Y-yeah. Yes."
"This guy didn't pressure you into it?" Chris tipped his head toward Leon without taking his eyes off Grace, as if examining her for tells.
"No!" she said, a little too forcefully. Leon's head turned towards her too, and Grace had to make an effort not to squirm. "I-I-I w-w-w-want to."
"Want to what?" Chris challenged.
And it was, Grace realized, a challenge. Now that she understood the nature of the thing, it was easier to hold up under his glare. "W-w-want to see what he's like. W-with you."
Chris digested this, scrutinizing Grace. Something about the way her eyes wanted to flick downward made him wonder. He made a calculated move towards his shot glass, leaning forward on one elbow, forearm stretching, bicep flexing as it took his weight. Pitched his voice low. "Is that all?"
Grace considered that outstretched arm for a long moment before forcing her attention back to Chris's rugged face. His dark, piercing eyes. The knowing look they carried, having tracked her gaze.
Her shoulders pulled in, half-shrug, half-squirm. "W-we didn't know if, if y-you'd want more, so... I-I dunno."
At the word we Chris looked to Leon. Eyes on Grace, beer halfway to his lips, mouth open, tongue frozen behind the curve of his bottom lip. Not expecting the conversation to go this way, it seemed. The sudden attention stirred Leon into motion, blinking in Chris's direction, glass finally finishing its journey to his mouth. He took a modest sip. Cleared his throat, but held his tongue. Shrugged at Chris with his eyebrows, as if to say the decision's all yours.
"Hm." It was Chris's turn to consider. The girl was pretty, alright — far too pretty to have anything to do with the mass of scar tissue he'd made of himself. Her thing for Leon, he could understand. But him? Nah. Ten, twenty, thirty years ago maybe. Yet here she was, looking him straight in the eye with obvious interest.
Though he had some lingering concerns. "How old are you?"
"She's a grown woman," Leon cut in. "An FBI agent—"
Grace reached for Leon under the table, quieting him with a touch. His solidity was grounding, his heated defense emboldening. "Old enough to know w-what I want."
Chris frowned like that wasn't good enough — the kind of frown that could make one of his Hound Wolves wither — but Grace coolly held his gaze. Chris had to hand it to her. The pretty girl had guts. "Huh," he breathed. He'd thought he was done with first times. Maybe not.
He raised his last shot to her. Grace lifted hers in return, neon lights glinting in her smiling eyes. They tossed it back in unison.
Grace, trying not to wince, reached for Leon's soda.
Leon surfaced from his matching swallow of beer. "Is that a yes?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "I need a fuckin' cigarette," he said, sliding out of the booth.
Leon rose to follow. To Grace, "Watch our stuff?"
She nodded nervously. Leon shot her what he hoped was a reassuring thumbs-up before jogging after Chris, who hadn't waited for him. He caught up just in time to slip out before the door fully closed behind him.
"So?" Leon prompted as Chris lit up.
Chris exhaled. Took another drag before answering. Let his thoughts settle around the pretty blonde in the cute dress who'd saved his husband's life. "I see why you like her."
"And?"
Chris looked sidelong at Leon. "You really want me to fuck your girlfriend?"
"Kinda hoping we'd both get involved," Leon said, more seriously than Chris had expected. He clasped his hands in front of him, squeezed as if praying, released into a gesture that suggested sending it towards Chris for approval.
Chris squinted, evaluating Leon. Eager, antsy. Maybe a little tipsy. Looking damn good in that fucking V-neck, showing just enough chest hair to tease at what's underneath. Leon only wore stuff like that anymore when he expected to get laid.
It kinda pissed Chris off. "If I don't like sharing?"
"Then say no." Leon huffed. "We go back to don't ask don't tell. Pretend we never had this conversation."
As if that'd be possible. Chris snorted. "Maybe I bend you over and make her watch?"
"Sounds hot," Leon said, calling his bluff. "I'm in."
Chris pretended to contemplate this. He puffed on his cigarette and watched Leon fidget for a while. "Could I bend her over? Make you watch?"
"Not sure she'd be into that, but we could ask her."
A real consideration struck Chris amidst the banter. "So what is she into?"
"Older men, apparently." Leon's mouth quirked into a smile.
Chris hissed out a low amused curse amid a cloud of smoke. "No shit. But like... rough, gentle, oral, anal... missionary?" Leon was laughing. It felt good to see him laugh. "I haven't done a girl in twenty years, man. What are the kids into these days?"
"Ah, missionary's very popular," Leon chuckled. "Cowgirl, oral, side by side... not a lot of doggy. She likes to look, and touch. Real grabby. Sensitive nipples too, so that's nice. Haven't done much anal—"
"Alright," said Chris, waving him off, not really expecting such a detailed answer.
Leon wouldn't be dissuaded, "—but the night's still young." He gave Chris a pointed look. "She's kind of a size queen."
"Come on."
"Seriously. She's got a silicone tentacle the size of my fuckin' forearm." Leon made a demonstrative fist.
"Sure." Chris grinned. "So you told her about me."
"What else did you expect?" Leon smiled back. "My husband's packing heat, I'm not gonna brag?"
Chris waved him off again, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Chris smoked. Leon fidgeted. Before it could burn too low, Leon reached for Chris's cigarette.
Chris let him take it, but not without objection. "The fuck? You don't smoke."
Leon took a long drag. "I don't drink, either." Smoke curled out of his mouth with each word. He blew the rest away from their conversation.
Chris stole his cigarette back. "And I don't fuck girls." He took the last two hits quickly, back to back, and tossed away the butt.
"So we're doing this?" Leon asked. Practically wagging his tail.
"Yeah." Chris was never going to say anything else. "Come on."
Inside, the waitress was at their table. Grace was saying, "Uh I-I-I dunno." She looked up at the men, raising her voice. "Do we want another round?"
Leon's wallet was already out. "Nah." He shoved too much cash at the waitress. "Keep the change."
"Ahp, ahp, ahp," Chris held up a hand, then gestured towards Grace. "Unless you wanna stay a little while longer?"
"Oh." Grace grabbed her purse. "No, I'm ready."
They set off down the weeknight-quiet street, past closed storefronts and weedy vacant lots, with Leon and Grace leading Chris back towards the motel the way they came. Barely half a block down the road, Chris called out, "Grace. C'mere." She fell back to walk beside him, while he moved towards the curb, boots crunching over the grass between the sidewalk and road.
"Should probably get to know each other a little, huh?" Chris started, after a few paces.
"I-I guess so," Grace responded. "Leon told me a lot about you."
"Is that right?" Chris asked. Grace nodded. "Did he tell you I'm gay?"
Leon turned around. "Seriously?" He walked backwards for a few steps, to shoot Chris a what gives look and a wide-armed gesture.
"What?" Chris argued, "I've been calling myself that for 15 years."
"To who?" Leon argued right back.
"To you, jackass. The man I gay married."
Leon turned back around with a dismissive wave.
"I-I-I don't mind," Grace assured. "Or, it's okay, i-if you'd rather not, uh... or don't want me to... um..."
"Eh," Chris said mildly. "Just want to be up front. Set expectations real low. I haven't touched a woman in..." The pause stretched long enough for Grace to peek at him, then glance away when she saw how openly he was looking at her. Her dress tastefully cupped her cleavage, cinched around her high skinny waist, flared over her peach of a backside, its hem floating just above her knee. His eyes caught on each feature, but lingered longest on her pale slim legs. Swishing under her skirt, moving quickly, two strides for every one of his. Her sneakers looked to Chris like they might have been child sized. "Too goddamn long." Not just since he last slept with a woman, but since he spent any time around civilians. Anyone who didn't specialize in anti-B.O.W. combat for a living. Normal people.
Grace glanced at him again, then hastily blinked away.
Shit. Chris realized he might be spooking her and shifted his gaze. He supposed he couldn't blame her for being apprehensive. Meeting her boyfriend's husband for the first time, trying her best to make a good first impression even though he's being kind of a dick about it. And she was so slight compared to him. Chris could probably pick her up and throw her like a javelin. With one arm. It's no surprise she might not be comfortable with a guy like him leering at her.
Chris took a swing at lightening the mood. "So you won't freak out if I touch his asshole?"
Grace giggled nervously. "I, uh, we've, I mean..." She forced herself to take a steadying breath. "Tried it, once? But I wasn't any good at it."
Leon spoke over his shoulder. "You were fine."
Grace raised her eyebrows and mouthed the word fine. Amused eyes met hers as she glanced sidelong at Chris.
"Trying to steal my technique?" he prodded.
Grace raised a hand, spreading dainty fingers wide. Two of hers together might be as thick as one of Chris's, but they'd never be as long. "As if I could."
"Lemme see that," Chris said, reaching. He grasped her hand, oddly Grace thought, tight around her first three fingers like an overzealous handshake. "That's it, squeeze 'em together."
"Oh," Grace realized. She curled her fingers in Chris's grip.
"There you go," he said, with more of a smile in his voice than on his face. "And if that's not enough..." He readjusted his grip on her, tightening around all five fingers at once. "You can use the whole damn hand."
Grace raised disbelieving eyebrows.
"I didn't say I could. I said you could. Look." He let go of Grace and pinched his own fingers demonstratively. "You see this? You ease it in, like it's— graduated. Not all at once. You see how my fingers are?" She watched him like she was taking internal notes. "Sure it's called fisting, but you don't wanna actually make a fist. Unless he really pisses you off. Then, y'know," Chris clenched his hand, mimed punching upwards. Grace laughed at that — not a nervous giggle, but an honest-to-god lung-filling laugh.
Chris remembered this feeling from his Air Force days, back when it was a point of pride to make a pretty girl smile. The distance of memory had let him dismiss all that as something he did for bragging rights with the guys, having nothing to do with how he felt (or didn't feel) about women. But with Grace smiling away like he'd done something right, filling him with warmth...
Chris caught Grace's hand again, this time holding it properly. If loosely, in case she wanted to draw away.
She didn't. Her thumb fell comfortably over his.
They walked together hand in hand following Leon, whose stride had grown visibly more confident, hips swaying a little more suggestively. Presumably because they'd been talking about his ass. Chris admired it as they walked.
"So..." Grace lifted their joined hands. "This is... okay?"
"Sure," Chris said easily. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Since y-you're g-g-g-g-gay."
The word seemed to give her extra trouble. Chris tried not to read too much into it. "Yeah, well, don't expect me to dive face first into your snatch or anything, but I'm not scared of catching cooties. Touch all you want. And anyway, a hole's a hole."
Grace's other hand came up to cover her mouth, cheeks burning red. Ahead of them, under his breath, Leon swore, "Jesus."
"Not trying to be an asshole," Chris said, in a tone Leon recognized as an apology. Or near to one as Chris usually got. "Just saying how I see it."
"No, i-it's, fine," Grace said haltingly. "I-if we're going to do it, w-w-we should be able to talk about it, right?"
"Right," Chris agreed.
The silence that followed was a little awkward. Chris sank into it, letting his attention wander down the quiet street, expecting Grace to tug her increasingly sweaty hand out of his grasp. Any second now.
Instead, she spoke up. "The w-way Leon talked about it... so y-you have a... an open relationship?" She phrased it like a question, but there wasn't much else Chris could say. He nodded. Watched, from the corner of his eye, the way her gaze lingered on him. "I-I wasn't sure I believed him."
"Hey," Leon said, playing up an artificially hurt tone of voice.
"It's awfully convenient," Grace said, voice firming up.
"It is," Chris agreed. "That's how we like it."
"I-i-it always kind of felt like I was... I-I dunno. The other woman."
Chris snorted. "Hey, Leon. You got another woman?"
"Just the one," came the snappy reply.
"See? You're good." Then again, on second thought, Chris added, "At least until Ada rolls into town."
Leon didn't have any smart-ass response to that. Grace probed, "A-Ada?"
"An ex," Leon said curtly.
Chris teased, "Is she?"
"Haven't seen her in years."
"Yeah, but she does that," Chris argued. There wasn't any heat or bitterness to it, only amused resignation. To Grace, he said, "She's the one you gotta worry about. Me, I'm a cream puff compared to her."
"Could we not?" Leon said, startlingly aggrieved. "Thought we were having a nice... uh..." He'd turned sharply, for emphasis, trailing off when his eyes caught the conjoined hands between Chris and Grace. His head snapped forward, gait returning to a casual saunter. "Of all the things to bond over," he snarked.
"You'll get over it," Chris said. Then, to Grace, barely above a whisper, "He's not over it."
Grace laughed, but quietly this time, and Chris could tell that he stepped in it. Again. "Me and my big mouth. Forget I mentioned his shitty ex."
"Please," Leon agreed.
Grace still hadn't removed her hand from Chris's. He gave it a light little squeeze, drawing her attention, reorienting. "What about you?"
"W-what about me?"
"Mm." Chris thought hard about how to phrase it, since his track record on that wasn't so hot at the moment. He started by giving her hand a little wobble, and echoing what she'd asked him about it. "This is okay, yeah?" Grace nodded, doe-eyed. "Okay. What else?"
"Um." She blinked down at the pavement as it passed under her feet. "W-w-whatever you want."
"Oh, don't say that." Chris couldn't help himself. "What if whatever I want is to tickle your feet and throw you out the window?"
Grace was smiling again. "I-is it?"
"No, you fuckin' kidding me? You're way too cute to throw out a window." There was that laugh again, high and girlish, a delight to Chris's ears. But he wasn't entirely joking. "It's the principle of the thing. Never tell a man to do whatever he wants to you."
"Even if he's—" The next word caught in Grace's throat.
"Gay?" Chris presumed. "Yeah, we can still be pigs."
"No, I wasn't—" Grace blushed. "I was going to say, what if he's—" Her voice caught again. Chris waited this time. "Handsome?" Her eyes flicked to Chris's face. "Like, scary handsome? A-and maybe, y-y-you've heard he's a, a g-g-g-g-good person, a-and g-g-g-good in bed, too." Now Chris was threatening to blush. "A-and y-you feel lucky just to be a-allowed in the room, but then y-y-you start to hit it off, and he says that thing about— holes—" Chris laughed, surprising no one more than himself. Grace concluded, all in a rush, "And you just, really hope he might want to? But if not that's okay."
"I think I get it," Chris said, smiling. Genuinely smiling.
Something still worried her. "I-I-I know you and Leon have been together a, a long time."
Chris almost laughed again. Longer than you've been alive, probably. "Yeah."
"A-and what you have is... you're married. That's..." She gathered her thoughts. "I don't want to come between you."
Ahead of them, Leon scoffed. "Not what you said to me earlier."
"W-w-what?"
Chris picked up on it before Grace did. "Pretty sure we could make her come, between us." Grace's free hand returned to her face. Chris gave a little squeeze to the other, keeping his voice light and friendly. "Hey, I'm down if you are."
"You know it," Leon said, facing forward, not realizing Chris wasn't talking to him.
Beside him, Grace mouthed into her fingers, "Um. Okay. Maybe?"
She really was cute, Chris thought. The tips of his ears were burning, and an unexpected anticipation had begun bubbling inside him. Wasn't he too old for butterflies in the stomach?
He put his eyes back on the road and tried not to overthink it. The next block coming up had a motel, two stories, on the cheaper side from the looks of it, with doors and parking around the back, away from street view. "This the place?"
"Yeah," Grace and Leon said, nearly in unison.
"Cameras?" Chris checked.
This Leon answered alone. "Mysteriously on the fritz."
"Nice."
Grace figured out what they were getting at. "Is that what you were doing while I was— Leon. That's a crime."
"Not a federal one," he said, but quietly, turning his head to make sure he'd be heard. "Don't think it falls under FBI jurisdiction." Grace scoffed, and Leon's broad shoulders rose in a mock-innocent shrug. "Crazy what people get away with."
Grace shot Chris a look, wide-eyed, concerned.
Chris met it with a tight what-can-you-do smile. "Crazy," he echoed Leon, "but it keeps us off record. You never know who might be spying through those things." The alarm on Grace's face shifted, deepened. Appropriately, in Chris's opinion. He'd read her files; he knew she was familiar with the usual suspects.
As they rounded the building, Grace hesitated. "Um." She hurried just ahead, turning, stepping in front of Chris to stop him. Tugged his hand up between them and clasped both of hers around it, as if she was about to start begging. "So, uh..."
He could see the question on her face. In her big pale eyes, twinkling under the dim outdoor lights. Chris watched words form behind her lips, lingering there without being spoken. Whatever was on her mind, she seemed nervous as hell about it. "Yeah?" he prompted, kindly as he could.
"W-w-would it be okay if... c-can I kiss you?"
She was so maddeningly cute Chris could weep. There was only one way to answer: with action. He brushed a knuckle over the softness of her flushed cheek, crooked it under the point of her chin. Her face tipped eagerly up. His head bowed to meet it.
His lips were softer than she expected, gentler than Grace could have imagined, covering hers with shocking tenderness. Leon had warned her that his husband was rough; everything about the man suggested violence and grit. The very last thing Grace expected was for her mouth to melt into the sweetest kiss she'd ever tasted. Her mouth opened for a real taste. Smoke, liquor, want.
"Wow," Leon said, dryly, from a distance. "Get a room."
Grace jumped out of her skin and practically whirled to face him. Chris just looked up, to see Leon cat-standing in an open door.
With a beckoning wave, he disappeared inside.
