“I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
“Thanks,” Sloane grumbled. He put away his phone and informed Dex about Isaac. Hi
s partner’s expression remained unmoved. Sloane smiled at Dex. “So, what will it take to get you to stop looking at me like that?”
Dex perked up. “Can you plug my iPod in?”
Sloane eyed him warily. “That depends. What hellish sounds are you going to violate my ears with?”
Dex wrinkled his nose and gave a haughty sniff. “I find your lack of melodic finesse disturbing.”
“Yeah?” Sloane plugged the iPod into the dock on the mantel and pressed play. Another electro-pop, disco-sounding melody started thumping through the speaker system. He turned, arching an eyebrow at Dex. “ABBA?”
“What kind of gay man are you?” Dex thrust a finger toward the door. “Out of my house. Your kind isn’t welcome here.”
Sloane chuckled and took a seat on the armchair, propping his sock-covered feet on the coffee table. “Okay, fine. ABBA’s acceptable. I’ll give you that.”
“No, ABBA is awesome.” Dex subtly moved his shoulders to the beat, the only movement he could get away with without wincing before he broke off into a husky version of “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!”
“No singing,” Sloane groaned.
“You seem to be forgetting where you are. You’re in Casa de Dex, and in Casa de Dex, there is much singing.” Dex continued to sing, and Sloane let his head fall back, his eyes closed. In truth, he didn’t mind Dex singing. He had a rather nice singing voice. It was more the principle of the thing. He didn’t like Dex getting his way. He liked Dex being right even less.
Once Dex’s medication started doing its thing, Sloane was pleasantly surprised to find his partner became more subdued. Not being able to get up and wreak havoc was painful for Dex, which in turn became painful for Sloane, but with his meds, and his annoying pop music, Dex spent a good deal of his time napping and zoning out. This allowed Sloane to catch up on his paperwork on his tablet connected to Themis. He even did some reading and managed to catch a nap himself. Maddock had authorized him to have the time off providing nothing urgent came up. Sloane could do most of his work from his tablet and if he needed to check in at the office in person, Cael or one of their other teammates would stay with Dex. Sloane glanced over at his slumbering partner. Dex was still a rookie. He’d only had a taste of what it was like to be a THIRDS agent. Sloane had been part of the THIRDS since he was sixteen, though he’d been with the government longer. After all these years with the THIRDS, a guy got to enjoy his downtime whenever he could.
“What’re you thinking about?”
Dex’s voice was quiet, his drowsy gaze on Sloane as he sat back against a garrison of fluffy pillows. He’d been asleep for the last four hours and looked sweeter than Sloane wanted to admit. His hair was sticking up in all directions, his blanket was wrapped around one leg, a sock had somehow come off while he slept, and he had a hand clutching onto the corner of the blanket over his chest. He really was such a man-child. Sloane cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his tablet.
“Just thinking about how long I’ve been doing this.”
“How long?”
“Twenty-one years.”
“Wow. You love it that much?”
Sloane shrugged. “Not so much love it as never done anything else. It’s what I was trained to do. As far as government organizations, if I had to choose, I’d still go with the THIRDS.”
“Why?” Dex watched him intently, and Sloane mulled over his answer. He didn’t want to get into his history with the organization, but Dex was his partner, and he deserved as much of the truth as Sloane could bring himself to part with.
“Because I promised myself a long time ago that I would do what I could to help those like me. It’s not about catching the bad guys. It’s about helping Therians who are scared and lost, who’ve made mistakes or haven’t had anyone to guide them and giving them the chance to find a better path, showing them they have the chance to lead better lives.”
Dex was quiet for a moment, his pale blue gaze turning sympathetic. “It must have been rough.”
“Yeah.” Sloane instinctively scratched along long-healed wrist scars, only realizing too late what he’d done. Dex’s eyes went wide, tears pooling in them.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a humorless laugh. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Hey, no.” Sloane got up and gently nudged Dex so he could sit on the large couch beside him. “What’s this?” he asked, his thumb gently wiping away the wetness under Dex’s left eye.
“Nothing,” Dex replied, closing his eyes and letting out a shuddering breath. “It’s the meds.”
“Dex,” Sloane prompted, receiving a sigh.
“You said you didn’t want to talk about it.”
Sloane averted his gaze, his jaw muscles tightening. “I don’t. And I won’t either. I’m saying you don’t need to feel bad about it. I don’t. It was a long time ago. I was young, on my own, and scared. It’s all I had left. At least I thought so. I know now how wrong I was.” Dex took his hand and turned it over, his thumb stroking Sloane’s wrist and the barely visible line. The THIRDS had done a hell of a job stitching him back together. Then again, Sloane had been naïve and cut in the wrong direction. The doctors had told him he’d been lucky. Biting down on his bottom lip, Dex took Sloane’s other hand and turned it over, cursing under his breath. Sloane pulled it away.