Brostowski.
So, Brett decided to follow his co-workers down the stairs and out to the truck bay. He also decided that the better part of valor would be to keep his fucking trap shut no matter what they said during the verbal ass kicking he was sure they were going to lay on him.
“What the hell is your issue with the rookie?” Flame asked, but the heat in his voice from ten minutes earlier was gone.
Brett suspected, based on Flame’s question, that Tig hadn’t outed him. Just the thought that his closet door was still safely closed, allowed the tension that he wasn’t aware he carried in his shoulders to dissipate.
“I just don’t like him, alright?” Brett finally answered when the silence stretched and the intense looks from Flame and Brostowski didn’t let up.
Flame and Brostowski shared a glance during a long pause before looking back to Brett. Whatever the look that passed between the best friends was about, Brett didn’t know and really didn’t care about.
“Look,” Brostowski started. “You can dislike the kid all you want, but you have to be able to work with him.”
Flame picked up where Brostowski left off. They did that shit all the time. They seem to finish each other’s sentences or thoughts and it was unnerving as hell.
“We need to be able to have each other’s backs.”
“Trust we have each other’s backs,” Brostowski finished.
“We never know which one of us will be paired with the rookie,” Flame added. “Tension between any of us only makes our job more dangerous.”
“You think I don’t know that shit?” Brett couldn’t stop his anger from rising toward his co-workers who were just trying to help. “I know what it’s like to work under a fucking blanket of tension. I was here last year when the two of you practically smothered us with it.”
Brostowski had the decency to wince and look away. Flame, however, just continued to stare at him. Brett felt like he was under a microscope and fought not to fidget. Silence stretched between them again while Flame continued to study him. He was about to speak when Flame beat him to the punch.
“Is that what’s going on here?” Flame raised a brow and his voice was full of curiosity. “You attracted to the rookie?” Flame lowered his voice before he asked and his question was laced with sincerity.
“What?” Brett felt himself pale and felt cold sweat breakout all over his body as he practically stumbled back from his co-workers. “No!”
Flame and Brostowski shared another one of the looks that made Brett think they could speak telepathically. Both men turned back to look at him and their gazes were too full of understanding and concern for Brett’s liking.
“No, I’m not attracted to him,” Brett hissed lowly. “I’m not into guys.”
Brett hoped they bought the load of shit he was selling and knew that if the men before him were any two of his straight co-workers, he would walk away as if severely insulted. However, if he did that to Flame and Brostowski, he knew they would interpret his storming off for what it really was. Fleeing.
“Alright,” Flame replied, but Brett had the distinct feeling that the man didn’t totally believe him.
There wasn’t shit he could do about whatever Flame believed. Aside from praying that Tig kept his trap shut or he suddenly found a beard to pass off as a girlfriend. The first he had no problem doing since he was raised Catholic after all.
The second, nope, never going to happen. He had too much respect for women to use them that way even if they were willing. He also had too much respect for himself, closet non-withstanding, to pass off the lie more than the words that passed his lips already had.
“Well, whatever gets you so fired up over the rookie,” Flame started.
Brett had to resist a groan at the images from earlier on truck duty that had gotten him so fired up. Fired up enough to beat the fuck off in the station’s shower.
“You need to squash that
So, Brett decided to follow his co-workers down the stairs and out to the truck bay. He also decided that the better part of valor would be to keep his fucking trap shut no matter what they said during the verbal ass kicking he was sure they were going to lay on him.
“What the hell is your issue with the rookie?” Flame asked, but the heat in his voice from ten minutes earlier was gone.
Brett suspected, based on Flame’s question, that Tig hadn’t outed him. Just the thought that his closet door was still safely closed, allowed the tension that he wasn’t aware he carried in his shoulders to dissipate.
“I just don’t like him, alright?” Brett finally answered when the silence stretched and the intense looks from Flame and Brostowski didn’t let up.
Flame and Brostowski shared a glance during a long pause before looking back to Brett. Whatever the look that passed between the best friends was about, Brett didn’t know and really didn’t care about.
“Look,” Brostowski started. “You can dislike the kid all you want, but you have to be able to work with him.”
Flame picked up where Brostowski left off. They did that shit all the time. They seem to finish each other’s sentences or thoughts and it was unnerving as hell.
“We need to be able to have each other’s backs.”
“Trust we have each other’s backs,” Brostowski finished.
“We never know which one of us will be paired with the rookie,” Flame added. “Tension between any of us only makes our job more dangerous.”
“You think I don’t know that shit?” Brett couldn’t stop his anger from rising toward his co-workers who were just trying to help. “I know what it’s like to work under a fucking blanket of tension. I was here last year when the two of you practically smothered us with it.”
Brostowski had the decency to wince and look away. Flame, however, just continued to stare at him. Brett felt like he was under a microscope and fought not to fidget. Silence stretched between them again while Flame continued to study him. He was about to speak when Flame beat him to the punch.
“Is that what’s going on here?” Flame raised a brow and his voice was full of curiosity. “You attracted to the rookie?” Flame lowered his voice before he asked and his question was laced with sincerity.
“What?” Brett felt himself pale and felt cold sweat breakout all over his body as he practically stumbled back from his co-workers. “No!”
Flame and Brostowski shared another one of the looks that made Brett think they could speak telepathically. Both men turned back to look at him and their gazes were too full of understanding and concern for Brett’s liking.
“No, I’m not attracted to him,” Brett hissed lowly. “I’m not into guys.”
Brett hoped they bought the load of shit he was selling and knew that if the men before him were any two of his straight co-workers, he would walk away as if severely insulted. However, if he did that to Flame and Brostowski, he knew they would interpret his storming off for what it really was. Fleeing.
“Alright,” Flame replied, but Brett had the distinct feeling that the man didn’t totally believe him.
There wasn’t shit he could do about whatever Flame believed. Aside from praying that Tig kept his trap shut or he suddenly found a beard to pass off as a girlfriend. The first he had no problem doing since he was raised Catholic after all.
The second, nope, never going to happen. He had too much respect for women to use them that way even if they were willing. He also had too much respect for himself, closet non-withstanding, to pass off the lie more than the words that passed his lips already had.
“Well, whatever gets you so fired up over the rookie,” Flame started.
Brett had to resist a groan at the images from earlier on truck duty that had gotten him so fired up. Fired up enough to beat the fuck off in the station’s shower.
“You need to squash that
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