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Al was usually the one that got up early and made breakfast. He was a better cook. A better friend. A better lover. A better shot. Really, a better everything. People didn’t see it. They saw the way he stepped into Dirk’s shadow, the way he watched his back and didn’t try to take anything for himself. They saw a lack of ambition when it was really a show of love.
He let his hand run lightly over the soft tanned skin of his back; tracing the many scars, bullets and knives, shrapnel and rope burns that he’d received in the long years they’d been together.
Dirk had his girls, always had his girls but they were nothing compared to this and after their last adventure he’d finally given up an pretense at trying to have something other than this.
He leaned over and kissed the back of Al’s neck, taking in his scent and remembering too many nights spent together in huddled, crowded spaces trying to work one thing out or other. He remembered blood and sweat and tears and too many close calls and too many times getting thrown to the ground so that Al could take the pain instead.
“Dirk?” The voice was still half asleep and Al’s head just moved to the side, his eyes never opening. It was complete trust because if he had been anyone else Al would have woken and been wary.
“Sleep in Al. We have the day off.”
“Gonna do somethin?”
“Sleep.” Dirk said, crawling up the bed to pull his lover into his arms. “Sleep. Then… when you’ve slept yourself out, we’ll take the boat out. Go up the coast and maybe get in a little scuba? What do you say?”
“Snorkel.”
“Snorkeling?”
“S’easier to get your trunks off than the damn wet suit.”
Dirk laughed against this skin. “Snorkeling it is.”
