Ryder let himself into his apartment just after nine, shoulders aching and jaw tight from another twelve-hour shift. It hasn’t been a terrible day, not by any measure. There were no major accidents or tragedies, but the smaller calls still added up. A woman broke her wrist when she slipped on an icy sidewalk. A diabetic episode across town from one of their frequent flyers. A teen tried something stupid with a bottle rocket, but he’d live to tell the tale.
Fatigue crept under his skin and settled there. It wasn’t exhaustion, but instead a slow weariness that all first responders shared. Ryder could handle it. It was his job to handle it.
Dropping his keys into the dish by the door, he bent down to give Ritz a few head scratches. “Hey, Ritzy. Always good to come home to your face.” He crouched to give the lab a bit more attention, but the sour whiff of sweat drifted up from his shirt. “You don’t want to cuddle me until I shower. Go on.”
With a friendly push, Ritz headed to his spot on the rug by the couch. He circled once before settling in with a sigh. Ryder toed his boots off and headed for the bathroom, peeling his shirt off as he went.
Half an hour later, well-scrubbed and with some stress relieved from a hasty jerk-off session, he stepped back into the bedroom. He tried to ignore the fact that his usual porn scene turn-ons had transformed into fantasies of a certain slender man with long brown hair and a wide smile. When his gaze landed on the folded pile of Lucas’s borrowed clothes, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know exactly who he’d thought about when he came all over his fingers.
He reached out and picked up the clean t-shirt, rubbing the soft fabric. He should’ve returned them by now, but every time he thought about driving over to Lucas’s tiny apartment, he hesitated. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see him. That was the problem. He wanted it so much it worried him.
Ryder stared at the shirt in his hands while fantasy images of Lucas with his head tipped back and eyes half-closed in pleasure floating through his mind. A now familiar warmth curled low in his chest, and he fisted his thick fingers in the fabric.
The phone buzzed, and Ryder snapped back to reality. It was the group chat with his three closest friends, Mav, Jax, and Zane. They’d gravitated together over the years, joined by LGBTQ+ status and originally being gym buddies.
Mav:Finn’s visiting family, and I’m bored. Bar time?
Jax and Zane agreed quickly. Ryder glanced back at the folded clothes but shook his head and added his own thumbs up to the chat. It wasn’t like he could just show up at Lucas’s place, and maybe his friends could help somehow. They’d all helped Mav get his head out of his ass about Finn, his adorable coworker turned boyfriend.
By the time Ryder walked into the busy bar, Mav and Jax had already claimed their usual booth. He grabbed a drink at the bar and, by the time he slipped onto the worn vinyl bench, Zane showed up and was pulling off his coat.
“Hey, it’s good to see you, Zane.” The others nodded and welcomed their quieter and less social fourth member. They got through the usual hey-how-are-you stuff and, by the time they were all on their second drinks, they’d fully sunk into their usual comfort.
Jax launched into a story about a hookup gone sideways. A woman – Jax was the only non-gay one in the group, being pansexual – kept a parrot in her bedroom, and it yelled out “Oh baby” every couple of minutes. After the third or fourth time, Jax asked to move the bird while they got it on, the lady got offended and said that Rupert’s happiness was very important to her, and he left.
Zane listened and laughed, but didn’t share much. Ryder always got the impression he didn’t have much of a life and liked it that way. The man did something with computers from home, and they’d all learned a while ago not to force him to hang out too much.
Ryder sipped his beer and let the chatter wash over him. He felt a bit disconnected from the usual friend bonding. He was tired, for one thing. Longer shifts were kicking his ass. He missed Lucas, too. It was the first time in a very long time that he felt the draw to someone else while hanging out with his friends.
“You good?” Mav asked eventually, nudging his arm across the table.
“Sure,” Ryder said with a shrug.
Mav arched a dark eyebrow and leaned over the table. He wasn’t the type to back down.
“There’s this guy…” Ryder started before picking up his bottle and taking a slow sip.
Mav’s face broke into a wide grin, and Jax turned away from his phone, where he’d been showing off a new hookup app to Zane, who looked vaguely horrified. “Ooh,” Jax said. “Spill.”
“It’s the photographer for that charity calendar I told you guys about. We’ve been hanging out.” At the eyebrow bounce from Jax, Ryder shook his head. “Not like that.”
“Why not like that? The guy gave you his clothes to wear, right? That’s a sign.”
“A sign?” Zane asked.
“Yeah, that he wants your skin touching his skin. Or like, something that touched his skin touching—”
“Shut up, Jax,” Mav laughed and knocked his elbow against the other man, nearly spilling his beer. “Not everyone’s all about skin touching like you are.” Before he could respond, Mav continued. “So, what’s the deal, Ry?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I like him more than I probably should. I mean, I’m always on call, and I already work weird hours. How do you date someone when your whole life’s a series of emergencies?”
“I thought you were already hanging out with him. You said you were over his place last week.” Mav frowned. “And you’re doing the calendar thing, too.”
“We just hung out and talked, took Ritz for a walk, and made fun of the stories on this podcast we both listen to. Dating’s different. You’re supposed to dress up and go out to dinner and stuff, right?”
Jax humphed and turned back to his bottle. “I can’t help you there.”
Mav rolled his eyes again. “It’s whatever works for you two. It doesn’t have to be fancy. You make room and make things work.”
