Daniel's touch on his arm was unexpected, but so much of what had happened between them tonight had taken him by surprise. Ethan hadn't expected Daniel to be so receptive to his idea, or to seem as concerned for his safety as he did. The small, comforting touches the other man had offered in the cafe were perhaps the most surprising thing of the evening. Daniel had seemed so cold and impersonal at the police department, but seeing him out of his uniform and out in public made all the difference.

"Yeah, alright," Ethan finally agreed. "I'll text you or something tomorrow. They'll probably look through my phone at some point, so I can't say anything too obvious, but… I'll be in touch." Daniel nodded, his hand falling away from Ethan's arm. Ethan felt the loss of the warm touch more than he wanted to admit.

"Good. Talk to you tomorrow," he said, before turning to leave. Ethan shut the door behind him, flipping the lock and setting the chain before stepping away.

Ethan went to bed early that night, and had dreams of the sort he hadn't dealt with since high school. It had certainly been a while since he'd been with another man, but waking up with wet boxers and Danny's name on his lips still came as somewhat of a surprise. With no small amount of frustration, he cleaned himself up and tried to go back to sleep.

It didn't work. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Steve waiting there, leering or threatening. He wasn't sure which was worse, but he was certainly left wishing for the dreams from earlier in the night to make a return.

When the morning came, Ethan went for a run to try to clear his head. He hadn't had the time to work out as much as he'd like recently with his long shifts at work, so he only made it a couple miles before his legs started aching. Frustrated, he turned back home, jogging and trying not to think about what he had to do when he got there. After showering, he sat on his bed, staring down at his phone. He had probably been staring at it for a good ten minutes before he finally sucked in a deep breath and tapped out a message.

He knew he wouldn't get a response right away -- Steve wouldn't want to appear desperate -- but the fifteen minute wait was still agonizing. Finally, finally, his phone dinged.

Ethan looked at the clock -- only 9 in the morning. He had 12 hours before he was supposed to meet Steve. It was going to be a long day.

He spent the day doing literally anything he could think of to distract himself. He read books, watched TV, worked out some more, showered again. At 8, it was finally time, so he started walking.

The seedy bar Steve called his own was just a few blocks away; one of the downsides of living in a smaller city. The Shooter Bar was a dingy dive of a place, with a long bar and a few tall tables -- not the kind of place people came to socialize. The lights were dim, likely to hide the grunge and dirt caked into every corner.

When Ethan entered, a couple of people turned to look, but most of them were too deep in their cups to take much notice. He paused at the bar to get a whiskey, figuring he'd need the liquid strength to get through the next few hours. He threw it back and got a refill before looking around the bar.

The place was only sparsely populated, but the music was pumping loudly, as if to discourage conversation, and there was still a bouncer lounging against the back wall by a door. Ethan walked up to him, hoping he was projecting more confidence than he felt.

"I'm here to see Steve," he said bluntly. "Tell him Ethan's here." The man looked down his nose at him and grunted, tilting his large, lumpy head to nod at the door.

"I ain't no messenger boy. Tell 'im yourself." The bouncer had been told to expect him, then. Ethan hoped that was a good sign, and took a deep breath as he pushed the door open.

The room was much nicer than the rest of the bar. It was likely meant to be an office, but since most of Steve's work took him away from the bar, it almost looked like more of a throne room. He sat on a plush couch, looking bored as he scrolled through his phone. When he heard the door open, he sat up, an almost manic grin on his face.

"Ethan!" Steve crowed. "I wasn't sure if you'd come. Glad you did, though" He gestured, motioning for Ethan to join him on the couch. Ethan only hesitated a moment before doing so, though he sat as far away as possible from the other man. He wouldn't put it past him to try to get a little handsy, and that was the last thing Ethan wanted.

"Yeah, well, I'm here," Ethan said blandly.

Steve narrowed his eyes as Ethan sat. "Why did you come? What made you change your mind?" He leaned forward, pushing just a little too close into Ethan's space. "Did you miss me?" Ethan scoffed.

"I have no interest in you," he said, crossing his arms. "Not in that way. I just want back in." Steve looked momentarily surprised, but covered it quickly, leaning back onto his own side of the couch.

"Ah well, might be for the best, can't be having you get too attached again," he said smoothly. "But you seemed pretty adamant the other night that you weren't interested in my offer -- either of them. What made you change your mind?"

"I'm just tired of my shitty job," Ethan replied, and, well, at least that much is true. "I work a shitty job and go home to a shitty apartment and… and I remember when things were better. I liked the pay working for you guys, and if there's new leadership in place, I figure it's worth giving it a chance." Steve stared at him a long moment, his thumb brushing lightly over his goatee as he thought.

"Well, it was a pretty shitty job," he finally agreed. "And I have to give you credit, you made it longer than most. You have to know, though, you won't be jumping right back in where you left off. We just can't trust you that quickly, unfortunately." Ethan shrugged.

"I've worked my way up once, I can do it again. Besides," he added. "I know the value of my skills. And so do you." That last part was a gamble; Steve never liked it when Ethan showed much backbone. But he was gambling on the fact that someone on the inside wanted him back specifically. When he saw Steve's eyes narrow in anger before he very slowly, deliberately calmed himself down, he knew he was right.

"Well, I guess you'd better hope the others agree," Steve said mildly, not looking up as he tapped something on his phone. He stood suddenly, sliding the phone into his pants pocket. "Let's go."

Steve led Ethan out a back door, where his flashy red convertible waited. Ethan felt his stomach churn as he slid into the passenger seat; he wasn't sure which he trusted less, where they were going or Steve's driving.

They managed to make it to their destination with a minimal number of near-death experiences, though Ethan hoped he wouldn't have to take the same ride back. They parked outside a club on the northern side of town, where Ethan could feel the thumping bass of the music vibrating the ground. He recognized the building; it was a warehouse the organization had used as a front. Previously, it had supposedly been a kitchenware import business, but apparently that had changed in the past months.

He followed Steve to the front door, where both men were waved in by the bouncers checking IDs. Steve pushed easily through the milling, pulsing, dancing crowd, Ethan trailing along in his wake to a set of metal stairs along the right wall. The bouncer guarding the foot of the stairs nodded at Steve, giving Ethan a suspicious look, then let them pass.

The stairs led to a metal door that, once closed behind them, blocked out an impressive amount of the noise from below. Another bouncer stood inside the door who, as Ethan had predicted, checked him thoroughly for both bugs and weapons. Steve watched on, not bothering to hide his enjoyment. The bouncer also took Ethan's phone, and he spared a moment to hope Danny wouldn't do anything stupid like send him a message.

The large room looked a lot more like the old warehouse Ethan remembered. A few people were scattered around the open space, but no one paid them much attention as they walked through.

"Why the change in venue?" Ethan asked, now that he could speak without having to yell. Steve glanced back at him.

"There were some changes in leadership," Steve said. "That came with a new way of thinking. The import business was just a front, but the club provides that and more income than importing ever did. It also offers an alibi for any of our members that get called in for questioning about our… activities," he added. Ethan nodded. Made sense.

"So what am I doing here?" he asked, glancing around. He didn't like not knowing what was going on.

"Your job interview, of course," Steve replied. He led the way across the mostly-empty room to knock on one of the office doors.

"Come in," called a voice from inside. Steve opened the door to reveal a surprisingly familiar face.

"Michael?"

"Ethan!" Michael stood, arms outstretched. He looked exactly how Ethan remembered him, wearing slacks and a collared shirt, his dark blond hair parted neatly to one side. Despite his illicit activities, Michael had always styled himself as a businessman, to the point of giving preferential treatment to those who treated him as such.

"Michael," Ethan greeted him, extending a hand. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise," Michael said, smiling broadly. "I was so glad to hear you'd decided to give us another chance." Ethan smiled, the expression feeling tight on his face.

"Well, a little time on the outside is enough to drive anyone crazy," Ethan offered. Michael nodded in agreement.

"Too true, too true. Please, have a seat," he said gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Steve, thank you for bringing him here. I'll let you know if we need anything." Steve's smile looked forced, but he inclined his head to Michael and shut the door behind him as he left.

"Wouldn't I love to learn that trick," Ethan said under his breath. Michael chuckled, sitting down in his own chair.

"Steve does require some handling," he acknowledged. He paused, looking across at Ethan. "Will your… history with him be a problem?" Ethan shook his head.

"Not on my end, no sir. He does like his power plays, but nothing I can't handle," Ethan said firmly.

"Good, good. Now, I remember your abilities with computers and other tech, and I think that's something we can really make use of with the direction we're going now," Michael said. "Jack ran a good operation, it worked for many years, but he was behind the times. There's so many new options open to us now, so many new ways to use technology to our advantage. If we are smart and use tech without overreaching, I think we can really do well for ourselves." Ethan nodded along.

"That's good to hear, sir. I do want to be of use."

"Oh, you will be," Michael assured him. "I'm sure you understand that we'll have to start you out on some small jobs at first, just to make sure you can be trusted, you see. Once you've proven yourself, you'll learn more, and I really think you'll be impressed with what we're doing." He paused, before pressing his hands to the top of the desk. "Alright, then. Let's start with something small… but important," he added quickly. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small box. "This is a tracker, off-the-shelf," he explained. "I need it altered so its signal is at least twice as strong. Is that something you can do?"

Ethan reached out to accept the slim box, reading over the specs on the side.

"I think I can," he said, nodding. "I'll need a workspace and some pretty niche tools, though," he said. Michael nodded.

"Of course. I had the boys start setting up a new workstation with some of your toys as soon as Steve let me know you might be returning."

"And… I don't want to push my luck," Ethan said slowly, "but if I am to give up my job for this, there is the matter of payment." Michael threw up his hands.

"Yes, yes, of course! You know we never skimped there, and the payouts have only increased under my leadership, I assure you." He reached into another drawer and pulled out a few bills. "Here's a five hundred dollar advance. You'll get that much again when the device is proven effective." Ethan stared down at the money in silence. He hadn't seen more than a couple hundred in cash at a time since leaving the world of crime, and it was a little disconcerting. Michael noticed and shot him a wink. "The private sector has its perks, right?"

Michael leaned forward, pressing one of several buttons on a sleek intercom system on his desk. Barely five seconds passed before the bouncer from the top of the stairs opened the office door.

"Phone's clean, sir," he said, holding Ethan's cell back out to him. Ethan accepted it, feeling relief wash over him. "Other than the thirsty bitch texting you," he added with a chuckle. Frowning, Ethan looked down at his phone to see two new texts.

He blinked in confusion for a moment, then realized it was Danny's number. He'd had the sense to text something innocuous to get his attention. He stuffed the phone in his pocket, looking up at Michael sheepishly.

"Sorry about that." Michael shook his head, chuckling.

"Don't even mention it -- go have fun. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Ethan followed the bouncer out in a daze, and turned down the offer of a ride home, instead pulling open his phone and calling a Lyft. It arrived in less than three minutes -- not surprising at a club where people would be doing far too much drinking to drive home -- and by 11 he was trotting up the stairs to his apartment, the roll of money a reassuring weight in his pocket.