“He doesn’t have suitors. He doesn’t want them. Go easy.”

Blane cursed at himself as his hand slipped on the tie knot again. He was so fucking out of practice with these things. Maybe he’d look better without one anyway. If Falcon wasn’t wearing one, he might feel awkward otherwise.

Blane tossed it aside and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, then turned in the mirror. Simple navy blue button-down shirt and trousers, both ironed specifically for the occasion.

If he didn’t leave now, he was going to be late to pick up Falcon. That thought drove him toward the door, double-checking that he had everything.

He normally worried about his appearance before a date, but he’d taken even more time than usual tonight. He didn’t dare to think about why.

Falcon was already waiting by the time he pulled up to the curb and he frowned apologetically as his date climbed in. “Sorry, were you waiting long?”

“Not at all.” Falcon beamed at him and leaned across the seat. Halfway to a kiss, he froze, as if realizing he wasn’t sure what the etiquette was.

Blane had frozen for a second, too, out of sheer surprise. But it made sense, with the way Falcon threw himself into everything with cheer and determination: painting, blowjobs, maybe life. That kind of energy was nice to be around. He leaned in and closed the gap to peck Falcon’s lips. “Good evening to you, too.”

Falcon grinned sheepishly and buckled up. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I can categorically state I wouldn’t mind your lips literally anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

Gears in Falcon’s brain were turning, and Blane was equally aroused and worried. Why did he have the feeling that, if he were with Falcon, this would be a constant state of mind? Blane narrowed his eyes. “Probably anywhere. Don’t put that to the test.”

“Aww,” Falcon sighed and folded his arms. “I’ll keep my lips to myself in public. How was your day?”

“Quiet. Weekends usually are, when I’m not seeing my friends. I get errands done and walk around town, that’s about it.” And clean my house in case I get laid tonight. “You?”

Falcon groaned. “Work and more work. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Blane nodded sympathetically. He occasionally had to pull overtime hours when animals were gravely ill, in labor, or just settling in. But overall, the zoo hours were short enough that it was a simple full-time job. He couldn’t imagine the pressure Falcon lived under, and his respect for the man’s cheeriness despite his circumstances edged up. “That’s… a hard job.”

“It’s what I love. But you’re right, it can be.” Before he could answer, Falcon went on. “But it’s a hundred times better than some boring 9-to-5 job. No offense.”

“I was just thinking how horrible it must be to always be working,” Blane admitted with a laugh. “But then, I’m one to talk. My hours do get weird sometimes. This one time a couple weeks ago…” Wait. Do you talk to a guy about a hookup on a first date? His cheeks flushed.

“I smell gossip. Maybe embarrassing gossip. Spill,” Falcon ordered, then nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “Before I make you.”

“That sounds… oddly enticing.” Blane winked. “Fine. I was coming back from a first date, it seemed to go all right, but he was really pushing for sex. Which… well, you know me.”

“Easily enticed?” Falcon teased.

Blane grinned. “When the words are right. We got to my house, and… ah, the other detail… I was looking after Sheila. Our baby sloth. She was asleep in the kitchen and he was a little freaked out by that.”

Falcon gasped. “That must have been adorable! I saw her last week. Isn’t she only on loan temporarily or something?”

Blane reeled for a moment—instead of laughing, Falcon had gone into adorable animal mode. His hands were clasped together tightly, his voice higher. “What? I mean. Uh. Yeah. But it was kind of funny.”

“Oh yeah,” Falcon laughed. “But I wouldn’t be weirded out at all. As long as she was fast asleep…”

“I think I like you.” Blane kept his voice as light as possible, but the comment probably still came off more… well… revealing than he’d wanted it to.

“Good. You should.” Falcon grinned cheekily at him. “So there’s definitely a wine corner here, right?”

“There’s a wine corner. And h’ors d’oeuvres.”

“I vote we hang out there.”

“That’s exactly what I do, when I bother going,” Blane admitted. “It’s more fun with someone else.”

Falcon hummed. “Even though I’m, you know… I’ve always said I’m happily single… I get that. Especially living alone. You do too, huh? Aside from sloth visitors?”

“Yeah,” Blane chuckled. “The peace and quiet is nice, but sometimes prolonged.”

They moved on to talk about the weather and what was on the radio as Blane took them to the parking lot of the zoo. Luckily, both of them lived close by to it for different reasons—Blane because it was his workplace, Falcon because he’d got a studio apartment years ago while the rent was cheap and the landlord liked him enough to keep him around, he said.

That led them to talking about housing and renting versus mortgages as Blane handed over his tickets and offered Falcon his arm.

Falcon broke off in the middle of an opinionated sentence about houses being a liability and stared at him, then around. “You’re…?”

Right. Shit. He wasn’t out. Blane winced at the mistake. “Sorry, I’m not used to—” But before he could lower his arm, Falcon took it.

“Don’t take liberties,” Falcon warned him, his eyes sparkling. “I might just allow it.”

Blane didn’t know what to say, so he just led Falcon for the wine.

“We’re at the heavy drinking stage of the first date already, huh?” Falcon accepted the wine glass and clinked it against Blane’s, and they found a corner out of the way of the people who actually seemed interested in buying art. “This asshole ex I once had. Oh. Uh.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell asshole ex stories on a first date,” Falcon grinned, looking sideways at him.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell Grindr first date stories on a first date, either.” Blane smirked. “And technically, you could count it as our second. You may as well spill the beans now.”

“If that counts as a date…” Falcon snickered.

Blane hummed. “Well, I’d count it. I saw your place, you showed me your art. And then…”

“Huh. I suppose.” Falcon laced his fingers with Blane’s for a moment, then let go. “I’m just not used to there being another date afterward. Like we said.”

“Like we said,” Blane agreed in a murmur. “So, that ex?”

“Oh, right.” Falcon rolled his eyes. “He just brought me to an event at his school once, some scholarship banquet. But he was closeted—and I mean really closeted—so he barely looked at me. People thought I was his little brother.”

Blane laughed. “Awkward. How long did you date him?”

“About two years. I turned eighteen and… well, the closet thing got too much.” Falcon glanced earnestly at him. “So yeah, I’m fine being on your arm. Everyone knows anyway. They’re just waiting for me to actually say it.”

“That must be nice, though. Knowing they’re waiting and being supportive, huh?”

“And your family…?” Then Falcon winced. “Yeah, that’s probably not first date conversation either.”

“I think we already blew past that.” Falcon stared at him, his cheeks reddening, and didn’t seem to know what to say. He shook his head, then almost spilled his wine as he finished it.

Blane laughed and let him refill. When he came back, Blane told him, “But yeah, mine took adjustment. I wasn’t sure, before I did. I was just about to leave for vet school then. Nervous as all hell. But it worked out in the end. We don’t talk much, but just because… I’m an adult and I’ve got my own life, you know how it is. We’re not close, as a family. But they’re good now.”

Falcon slipped his hand into Blane’s again, and this time, he held it. “Good.”

“I’m glad you don’t mind weird first-date stories. Like being mistaken for brothers. That’s really weird, isn’t it?” Falcon laughed.

“Only if you fucked afterward. Did you?” Falcon’s sideways glance told him the answer. “Oh my god, you did.”

“I was staying in his dorm room! We were teens! Privacy, you know? We weren’t not gonna take advantage…”

Blane laughed. “So what do you want people here to think of us as?”

He hadn’t expected the question to make Falcon get so flustered, but he did. His grip tightened on Blane’s hand for a moment and he cleared his throat, looking around for h’ors d’oeuvres or some form of rescue.

Blane’s chest tightened. Is that a good thing or a bad one? I can’t tell. Either way, he knew how he was going to end the evening now.

Before Falcon could come up with an answer, the auctioneer tapped the microphone and tested it, and then the auction was in full swing.

Falcon never answered the question, but he hardly let go of Blane’s hand all evening, either.