Nick woke up slowly.

It was the comfortable, quiet kind of morning that he so rarely got. Usually, he’d have overslept his alarm by at least twenty minutes, exhausted from being at the bar too late and having to close up on his own. Or he’d be woken up by his mom calling his cellphone, reminding him of whatever he’d promised to help her with that day.

But today, there was no beeping alarm or cell phone. The pillow smelled like fresh detergent and the sun beamed down warmly at him, as if it was happy he was there, warming him and the blankets until he was so comfortable he didn’t want to move.

He yawned into the pillow and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms above his head and his toes curling. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

It wasn’t until he had been staring at the ceiling for a full minute that he realized where he was.

The Cetokavich beach house.

Nick’s good mood evaporated and he groaned, throwing an arm over his head to block out the light. Of course he had woken up in the best mood he’d ever had and it was here.

He swallowed hard, his throat clenching a little and his eyes burning. If this had turned out any other way, he would have woken up with an ear-splitting grin, the memories of Joel’s mouth and hands and breath replaying over and over until he leapt from bed to see if they could create new ones. But instead—all Nick could think about was the look on Joel’s face, half horrified and half furious, as he pulled away before it disappeared completely behind a mask of indifference.

It hurt. He couldn’t stop picturing the way his eyes had turned blank, his lips pursing. His chest ached and he tried, tried desperately, to push the thought away.

But underneath it was the image of Janie, crying. And that hurt in a whole new way.

Nick forced himself to sit up, shoving the blankets down to pool around his waist. He ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed them furiously over his face.

He had no idea what time it was—he had forgotten to plug his phone in last night after everything. But the house outside of the room seemed quiet and the sun was beating down hotly on his face.

He carefully folded the blankets and set them at the end of the futon, glancing down at his pajama bottoms and ratty t-shirt. He should probably change.

His stomach gurgled and the urge for coffee suddenly overpowered any sort of decency. He tugged his shirt down and ran his hand through his hair again, the nervous tick probably making things up there worse instead of better.

“God, settle down,” he hissed at himself, shaking his arms out. He crossed the room, shoulders pushed back, and slowly left the office. He tiptoed to the bathroom, splashing water in his face and brushing his teeth with vigor, and then walked out to the kitchen with as much mock-confidence as he was capable of handling.

Joel sat on the couch, legs stretched out to the coffee table with his ankles crossed, and a book in his hands. He had reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and Nick fell short at the edge of the counter, just staring.

His short hair was smoothed down and he wore another thin button down, this one a soft blue that was the closest thing to his eye color as Nick had seen. His linen pants were white and he looked exactly like the kind of stay at home dad that lived in a beach house that he was. Nick’s lips curled up in a half smile at the sight.

It wasn’t Joel’s fault that he wasn’t interested in Nick that way. Sure, they got along okay and their chemistry—well, kisses like that didn’t happen for no reason, that was for damn sure—but Joel wasn’t actually interested and it wasn’t like Nick couldn’t respect that.

He would respect that. He'd have to, if the guy was going to let him keep talking to his kid.

“Morning,” Nick cleared his throat.

Joel jumped, the book falling to the floor with a loud thud. A hand flew to his chest and he glared at Nick for a long moment, just hunched over on the couch.

His glasses slid off his nose and fell to his lap. Nick’s eyes glanced down at them and then back up to Joel’s face. He was still glaring. Nick tried very, very hard not to laugh.

He failed.

Joel’s lips twitched, breaking the concentrated anger. “It’s almost noon.”

Nick whistled and leaned backwards against the counter, elbows catching him. He crossed his ankles and felt a shiver run through him when Joel’s eyes flickered down, crawling back up slowly.

Not fair, Nick thought, only barely stopping himself from glaring. Heat crept up his spine even as he told himself that Joel didn’t mean it the way that Nick did.

“Well,” he swallowed hard, clearing his head of the fuzzy, half-aroused, half-angry feelings that Joel’s attention brought on. “Good afternoon, then.”

The glare broke. Joel smile almost imperceptibly. The way it was indistinct and vague made Nick feel like he earned it more. “Afternoon.”

“Janie at school?” He figured, because it was a Tuesday and where else would she be, but it didn’t hurt to check. She’d been kind of upset yesterday. He definitely would have demanded a Mental Health Skip Day from his mom for that.

But Joel just nodded, confirming. “Yes, despite her protests that it was against her constitutional right to ‘the pursuit of happiness’ to do so.” He used finger quotes and Nick’s heart leapt. Dammit, he needed to get in control of his emotions.

Nick shook his head and chuckled. He was more on Janie’s side with that than Joel would appreciate so he wisely decided not to say anything. Instead, he nodded his head towards the coffee pot. “Any chance I can get some of that?”

“Oh, of course.” Joel made to stand up and Nick quickly waved him away, turning towards the pot. He grabbed a mug from the drying rack and shook it over the sink, small droplets of water falling.

“Nah, I can get it. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping.”

Nick winced. If he was worried about coffee being an overstep, he probably ought to worry about making out with the host and giving advice about parental grief to the daughter. He poured the coffee until the mug was full and then shrugged at himself. At least his heart was in the right place.

He turned back around and took a long gulp of his coffee. He hummed with satisfaction. “Do you just keep brewing fresh coffee all day?”

Joel lifted his eyebrows. “I own my own company and have a twelve year old daughter. My entire life revolves around fresh coffee.”

Nick laughed loudly, the sound surprising both of them. Joel’s eyes widened and he smiled wider. Nick grinned back. “Fair enough, man.”

“I imagine you drink a lot of coffee, what with working such a late job.” Joel folded his glasses and sat them on top of the book he’d already collected from the floor. He sat them both on the coffee table and turned to look at Nick fully. He held his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on the arm of the couch.

It was a sweet, domestic image. Nick wondered if he imagined the anger from last night.

“Well, yeah,” Nick said. “I have some late nights.”

“You like it, though?” Joel asked. His lips tipped down at the edges, not quite a frown but a look of total concentration. Nick pressed his lips tightly together as he contemplated his answer.

“Yeah,” he said after a minute. He re-filled his coffee mug to the brim, took a large slurping drink, and then maneuvered until he had hopped onto the kitchen counter, feet resting on the stool. Joel raised his eyebrows but otherwise didn’t comment. “I’ve been working there forever. It’s a nice place, the only one in town, so it’s almost exclusively regulars. It can get a bit repetitive, but all jobs can.”

“No dream job you’ve been avoiding?” Joel asked.

It was the same kind of question he always got when people heard he was a bartender. He bristled, but Joel’s expression was more open than judging and he tried to focus on that. “No.”

“That’s good,” Joel said, nodding to himself. It surprised Nick.

He smiled tentatively. Joel replied with a smaller version of his own.

He drank his coffee and Joel watched him.

The way that Joel stared was a little disconcerting but mostly it felt warm. Like when he had woken up with the sun on his skin. He knew that Joel’s gaze must have a purpose but it never felt like it was digging for anything. Just that it was willing to take whatever Nick had to offer.

It was nice. It hurt a little, how nice it felt.

“Oh my God,” Nick said suddenly, shooting up straight. He looked between the guest room door and Joel. “I was sleeping in your office! You couldn’t do work!”

Joel blinked at him and then threw his head back, laughing.

“Stop laughing!” Nick cried, swatting his hand uselessly at the air. “I’ve ruined your productivity.”

“You ruined my productivity yesterday and you weren’t apologetic,” Joel said.

Nick’s mouth went dry. “Did I?”

Joel swallowed, humor drying up on his face. “Well. Yes.”

Nick weighed his options very carefully. His fingers tightened around the mug so tightly they hurt. They could clear the air, right now, or he could make things a thousand times worse.

He was never very good at deciding things. His heart hammered in his chest. “You distracted me, too.”

It was halfway between what he wanted to say and what he shouldn’t. Joel’s eyes widened and his lips parted. Nick imagined the brush of air bursting from between them. Goosebumps rose on his arms.

Joel’s eyes dropped, pressing against Nick in a slow way that he could almost feel. His gaze locked with Nick’s, and his tongue flickered out to lick across his bottom lip. It was a look of blatant interest and Nick felt all his resolve from the previous night crumble into a thousand little useless pebbles.

“Did I?” Joel repeated.

Nick twisted his hands and raised the mug to his lips. Swallowing a slow, long pull to buy himself time, his pulse fluttered weakly and violently.

“Why did you push me away?” Nick asked the words too fast, a blur of syllables and breathes that were barely recognizable as words. The interest Joel had been displaying disappeared in an instant. Joel’s face hardened the second the understood.

“I don’t want to discuss this,” Joel said, standing smoothly from the couch. He squared his shoulders and locked his jaw.

Nick toyed with the idea of dropping it and immediately dismissed it. Watching as Joel bent over to gather abandoned dishes from the coffee table, he swallowed hard. “Well, I do.”

“You are a guest,” Joel snapped, storming past him to drop the dishes in the sink. They clattered loudly and he turned to Nick with a hard look in his eyes. “Perhaps you should act like it.”

Anger and embarrassment slammed through him as loudly as his pulse did. “I’m also the guy you made out with and then pushed away.”

“I don’t—” Joel cut himself off and Nick watched with rapt fascination as he managed to swipe the frustration off his face with a single breath, blank mask replacing it. Nick’s throat felt tight. He wondered how many things Joel had to suppress, how much pain and feeling he had to hide away, to make him so good at doing that. “This discussion is over.”

He turned on his heel and made his way to his office. Nick hopped off the counter and followed after him. He caught the door when Joel tried to throw it closed and stepped into the room after him.

Joel whirled around on him, eyes narrowed and mouth already opened, but he froze instead.

Nick closed the door gently behind him. “Listen,” he could hear the tremble in his voice. From the slight softening of his eyes, he thought Joel must have heard it, too. “If you’re not interested, tell me.”

Joel stared at him with those wide, unblinking, pale blue eyes that were definitely going to be Nick’s undoing. His jaw unlocked. His shoulders sagged. “I don’t do this.”

“Date?” Nick joked, taking a half step forward. He was about to take another when Joel’s next words cut him short.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t date.”

Nick had been down this road before. “Men?” he guessed, barely suppressing a sigh.

Joel’s head tilted. “Yes. No. Anyone.” He lifted his hands before letting them fall.

Nick waited. Joel’s head cocked further. “If you’re not interested,” he repeated. “Just tell me.”

Joel’s eyes fell to Nick’s lips.

And then Joel was pressed against the wall, Nick’s hands held tightly in a fist above his head and hard, bruising lips were crushing against his own.

Sweet merciful God, yes.

This kiss wasn’t anything like their first one. There was nothing soft or gentle about it. It wasn’t two bodies accidentally drawn to one another, tasting like beer and nerves. This one—

Nick nipped at his bottom lip and Joel groaned, the sound sweet tasting as Nick swallowed it down. He could feel teeth clash and bites on his lips that were half a thought away from bleeding, and he pressed harder, harder, trying to undo Joel in the same way that Joel was undoing him.

Joel’s hands fell to his side hard when Nick dropped them, instead raising to his neck, thumbs brushing against his jaw as his fingers brushed into the thin hair at the nape of his neck. Nick used the freedom to dig his fingers into Joel’s hip and he spun them quickly, slamming Joel into the door and slipping one knee between Joel’s legs. Joel let out a strangled sound that heated the entirety of Nick’s body instantly.

He pulled back when his lungs started to burn. They took huge, gasping breaths and stared at each other, chests heaving so close together they brushed with every inhale.

When Joel didn’t move, Nick leaned in and pressed his lips gently against Joel’s a second time.

Nick’s head hurt from the whiplash of emotions, the indecisiveness that wracked through him, and he decided that any decision he made didn’t matter half as much as the feeling of Joel’s hands on him and his breath mingling with his own.

Nick decided that maybe nothing mattered half as much as Joel.