Page 27 of Flint's Arrow
“Renaldo eventually flew away, and I took my shot, completed the contract, and went home. But for about ten minutes, I genuinely considered abandoning the job because I didn’t want to disturb my new feathered friend. He seemed very interested in what I was doing.”
Arrow laughed - a real, unguarded sound that transformed his entire face. “You named the pigeon.”
“Renaldo deserved a name. He had personality.” Flint took a bite of his chicken, pleased with how relaxed he felt. It all seemed very natural, as though they were actually getting to know each other instead of just dancing around the disaster of their first meeting.
They traded more stories over dinner. Arrow described the banker who’d tried to bribe him with a limited edition comic book. “It was actually worth about fifteen grand, so I appreciated the effort.” Flint told him about the time he’d had to abort a shotbecause his target stopped to help an elderly woman carry her groceries.
“It turns out that was one instance where the man was a decent guy being framed by his business partner. When I saw what he was doing, I asked Cyrus to check out the sources again, and it turned out we’d been given details on the wrong guy.”
“Wait.” Arrow set down his fork. “You investigate your targets?”
“Well, I don’t, but Cyrus insists on it.” Flint met Arrow’s eyes. “We don’t take jobs where the target is innocent. Every contract gets vetted. If something smells wrong, we dig until we find the truth.”
“That’s...” Arrow shook his head slowly. “That’s more than most law enforcement does.”
“We’re assassins with a conscience.” Flint’s mouth quirked. “Strange concept, I know.”
“No, it’s…” Arrow paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “It’s honorable. You could just take the money and not care, but you choose to care anyway.”
The sincerity in Arrow’s voice made Flint’s chest warm. He wasn’t mocking or being condescending - he seemed to have a genuine respect for what Flint and his friends did.
By the time dessert arrived - tiramisu for Flint, cannoli for Arrow - Flint found himself leaning forward on his elbows, gesturing with his fork as he made his point. Arrow’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and he’d stopped sitting so rigidly straight in his chair.
“Pineapple is afruit,” Flint said, wrinkling his nose. “It has no business on pizza.”
“Your loss.” Arrow speared a bite of cannoli. “Sweet and savory is a classic combination.”
They moved on to superhero movies - Arrow defendingThe Dark Knightwith the passion of someone who’d clearly had that same argument before, while Flint pointed out thatIron Manhad started an entire universe. Then, somehow, they ended up on reality TV, both of them dancing around whether or not they watched it, until Arrow’s careful phrasing gave him away.
“I’m not saying IwatchThe Bachelor,” Arrow said, fighting a smile. “I’m just saying if it happens to be on while I’m eating dinner, I don’t change the channel.”
“Right. And I don’t have a spreadsheet tracking who’s dated who across all fifteen seasons ofDrag Race.” Flint grinned. “It just exists.”
“You have a spreadsheet?”
“It might even be color-coded.”
Arrow’s laugh made something in Flint’s chest settle into place. This was what he’d needed to see. Not just apologies or grand gestures, but proof that Arrow could be someone Flint actually enjoyed spending time with, someone he could talk to and who made him laugh instead of feeling small.
When the check came, Arrow reached for it immediately. Flint let him, knowing it was important. Arrow needed to show he could provide and take care of things - it was the wolf way. Flint could give him that without losing anything of himself.
Outside, the evening air was crisp and clean, stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on dark velvet. Flint breathed deep, tasting pine and the promise of snow on the wind.
“Would you like to walk for a bit?” Flint asked, surprising himself.
Arrow’s face lit up before he carefully schooled his expression to something more neutral. “Yes, I’d like that.”
They started down the sidewalk, past the warm glow of storefronts and the handful of people enjoying the evening. Flint was hyperaware of Arrow beside him - close enough that their arms occasionally brushed, far enough that Arrow wasn’t crowding his space.
After half a block of comfortable silence, Arrow asked quietly, “Would you mind if I held your hand?”
Flint stopped walking. Arrow stopped too, patient and waiting. He didn’t reach out, he didn’t assume, he was just asking…
He asked.
“Yes,” Flint said softly. “You can.”
Arrow’s hand was warm when it closed around Flint’s, not a hint of grabbing or pulling Flint closer. Just their palms pressed together, with their fingers interlacing slowly. The mate bond sang at the contact, easing the ache that had been building since they’d first met.
