Page 101 of Ethan

“Charlie thought we’d have dinner with him and Max tonight, but I told them we had plans,” Hank said in as neutral voice as he could manage.

“Ah,” Ethan said knowingly.

“And I said, you should come over after and watch something with me and Max,” Charlie added.

Ethan was much, much more honest than Hank. He didn’t tell his brother to fuck off, but his meaning was clear enough. “No. And text me which place you and Max end up in so we can go to the other one.”

“What?” Charlie squawked.

Hank almost wanted to laugh. But he didn’t, because that was going to make everything worse. But of course, even though Hank refrained,Dannylaughed.

“Dude, let them have some alone time,” Danny said, and Hank supposed it wasn’t surprising that some of the team, besides just Max and Charlie, had guessed what was going on. “You don’t have to micromanage everything.”

“Fuck off, please,” Charlie said primly and marched away.

“You’re welcome,” Danny said, still chuckling under his breath.

“I’m not sure that actually helped,” Hank suggested.

“It got you a date without having to spend the whole night pretending like Barney and Max’s deal isn’t weird as hell,” Danny pointed out.

Ethan sighed. “True. But now he’s gonna be all worked up.”

“Isn’t he always though?” Danny said philosophically.

The laugh escaped from Hank before he could reel it back in, but even Ethan joined in then.

“Fair,” Ethan finally said, patting Danny on the shoulder. “He’s kind of high-strung.”

“Kinda?” Danny questioned.

Ethan made a face, and Hank was reminded of a thought he’d had last year. That the Barnes brothers were allowed to say things to and about each other that nobody else was. They lived in this special bubble where they could give each other shit but would bristle defensively if anyone else did.

But if Danny knew he’d crossed the line, he clearly didn’t give a shit. Which also tracked. Danny didn’t give a shit aboutmostthings.

“It’s not that serious, baby bro,” Danny said and then sauntered off, leaving Ethan and Hank by themselves,finally.

“Ugh,” Ethan said. “I don’t know whether weshouldbe thanking him or not. Did Charlie really try to get us to come over after dinner?”

“Uh, yeah. He did.”

“Well,hopefully, even if he was pissed, and he probably was, he listens to me,” Ethan said.

Hank swallowed hard. “But—”

Ethan wouldn’t let him finish though. Just pinned him with a firm and surprisingly hot look. “Don’t even,” he said.

“Just . . .” Hank trailed off. He didn’twantto tell him that they needed to wait til they had real privacy—and God only knew when that would happen—but he really should.

Ethan just sighed. Patted him on the shoulder, his touch lingering. Caressing, almost. “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised. “Just don’t overthink it, okay?”

But overthinking was kind of Hank’s specialty.

Still, he could attempt it, especially if Ethan wanted him to try. That was what made relationships work, right? And hewantedthat, with Ethan. Had wanted it even when he hadn’t been sure of what the shape or the definition was.

“Okay, yeah,” Hank agreed. He motioned towards the parking lot. “I’m gonna call the restaurant. What time do you want to go?”

Ethan drifted a little closer. They weren’t touching, but theycouldbe, and it was an intoxicating possibility. “Don’t care, as long as we’re going,” he murmured.