Page 67 of Ethan

Ethan looked so good. Smelled so good.

Fate was such a fucking bitch.

It didn’t take Ethan very long to figure out something was wrong. Maybe a second. Maybe two.

In those two seconds, Hank stared at him and imagined what this would’ve been like if Inverness hadn’t just called him an hour ago.

Wondered what would have happened. If Hank’s hands would’ve ended up tangled in Ethan’s curls, finding out if they felt as soft as they looked. If his blue eyes went hazy and pleased when Hank leaned in to kiss him.

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked, frowning.

That lump was still there, despite all of Hank’s best efforts. Despite Hank practicing saying it out loud half a dozen times as he’d driven over.

The moment came, and Hank couldn’t quite get it out.

Ethan stared at him expectantly, and then his expression shifted. It was worse than he’d dreamed, Hank being front and center for the moment he figured it out.

“Oh, shit, not really? Fuck,” Ethan muttered. He put a hand out and wrapped it around Hank’s arm, tugging him over the threshold and into Ethan’s embrace.

Hank didn’t know how long they stood there, holding each other, but it was long enough. Long enough for the lump to finally,finallydissipate, and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Ethan was the magic ingredient that made all the difference.

Finally, he pulled back. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said in a voice that sounded too rough to be his. “I didn’t—”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Ethan reassured him.

“I don’t—”

But Ethan shot him another look. “Come in. We don’t have to go out.”

“But isn’t Barney here?” he asked, before he could overthink the question.

It was embarrassing to admit it—honestly, humiliation piled on more humiliation—but he didn’t want to see Charlie now. Charlie wouldn’t be shitty about this. He wasn’t a bad person, not by any means, but Hank felt too raw. Ethan was just the right kind of soothing and reassuring, but anyone else? Hank didn’t want to see them. He just wanted to sit in the quiet and let his wounds close over.

“He’s at Max’s, of course,” Ethan said and tugged Hank more firmly into the apartment, until the door closed behind him. “It’s just us. We should order something? Are you hungry?”

Hank, who was typically a bottomless pit, thought if he had to put food in his mouth now, he’d probably throw it up. He was churning too much. Too many emotions swirling inside him.

“Not . . . not right now, but if you want . . .”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ethan said, and Hank was surprised by how right it felt when Ethan’s fingers slid down his arm and tangled in his, tugging him into the living room.

He’d been in Barney’s apartment a handful of times over the last two years. A few team events, and when he’d first come up, fresh out of juniors, for the Bandits’ playoff run, Charlie and Max had hosted him for dinner, but it had been in this apartment and not in Max’s a few floors up.

That had been Hank’s first inkling that his new captain and the middle Barnes brother were kind of weird about each other.

Ethan took the couch and pulled Hank down next to him, but didn’t let go of his hand, and Hank liked that, too. Even though it broke him, a little.

“What did Inverness say?” Ethan asked.

That was one of the things Hank always liked about Ethan. He was direct; no games, unless they were of the fun variety. When it mattered, when it came down to it, he was honest. Didn’t beat around the bush. Didn’t let Hank sit there in silence and wallowin all the things he wanted that he wasn’t going to get. At least not yet.

Andnot yetfelt almost worse thannot ever.

“The expected bullshit,” Hank said. “Something about leaning on Niko while he’s hot. Putting him on the trade block.”

Ethan nodded. “Charlie thought that Niko might end up trade bait. He’s streaky. Can’t depend on the guy.”

“And they can depend on me?” Hank hated that he’d questioned it out loud the moment the words left his mouth.