Drew stared at the computer screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but he couldn’t make them move.

“This is not hard,” he muttered to himself. “Just type, for Christ’s sake. It’s no different than a work meeting, really.” But still the fucking words wouldn’t come.

He pushed the keyboard away and read the email once again, searching for subtleties and hidden meanings, re-re-rethinking his decision to go down this path at all.

Drew, so happy to get your email! I’d love to meet for coffee - I know a great place downtown with killer scones. Or maybe we could do drinks instead, depending on your schedule? Let me know what works for you. Feel free to give me a call, too. My number is below. - Mark.

Killer scones? Sounded pretentious and possibly dangerous. Also, who said things like that?

Was the “or maybe drinks” Mark’s way of pushing things? Drinks were at night, and could lead to dinner, which could lead to sex, or expectations thereof. Seemed like more of a commitment than coffee, which was casual and could be ended with an “emergency” work text when things got awkward. And what was with the phone number? Who called people anymore, for God’s sake? Were they married now?

Drew still couldn’t dredge up a single solid recollection of his conversation with the guy at The Station, even though Peter had helpfully pulled up Mark’s social media accounts and scrolled through shot after shot of the guy sitting at Fenway Park, hanging with friends at a winery, and even petting a little dog that looked like a Jack Russell Terrier. Drew couldn’t deny that Peter was right - the guy was objectively hot, and yet Drew had been more interested in the dog than the guy holding him.

Operation Get Over Sebastian was off to a great start.

Drew leaned his head back against his chair and rolled his neck from side to side. This was fine. This was normal. What else had he expected, really? You couldn’t just be hung up on a person for years and then switch gears. There would be an adjustment period. Maybe… maybe even a grieving period. But it would be easier if he had something else to focus on. Mending his friendship with Bas, and testing the dating waters with Mark.

He blew out a deep breath and forced his fingers to type.

Coffee sounds great. I work downtown, so we could meet at lunchtime. Or I’m free this weekend for dinner. -Drew.

He sent it before he could delete it entirely, then re-read it and covered his eyes with his palm. What the hell had he been thinking, suggesting a weekend date? Was that tantamount to an offer of marriage?

You’d never know he made his living crafting words.

He didn’t look up when Peter knocked on the door and pushed it open. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve embarrassed the hell out of myself, but I replied to Mark,” he mumbled.

“Should that make me happy?” Bas said, strolling over to the desk holding a cardboard tray of coffee. “Who’s Mark?”

Drew’s jaw dropped open. “Holy shit.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at Bas. “It’s ten in the morning.”

“Uh, yeah. Why?” Bas’s brow furrowed as he set the coffee on Drew’s desk and helped himself to a seat. “Do you have a meeting? Peter said your schedule was clear this morning.”

“Uh, no. I’m free. I’m just stunned to see you.” He leaned over the desk toward Bas. “Be honest. Does the sunlight burn?”

“Fuck off,” Bas told him, though his lips twitched, and Drew couldn’t help smiling in reply. “Bring your best friend coffee, get ready to tell him you’ve taken his freakin’ advice for a change, and what happens? You get mocked.”

Drew took the coffee Bas held out to him wordlessly and took a sip.

“Cinnamon?”

“Your favorite.”

Drew busied himself taking another sip. To say he was stunned to see Bas was beyond an understatement, but he couldn’t deny the way his stomach flipped at the sight.

Settle down. Would you be that excited to see Cam or Cain? Friends don’t go breathless when friends walk in the room.

But then again, none of Drew’s other friends looked quite as good as Bas did - suit pants hugging his thick, muscled thighs and form-fitting blue dress shirt showing off both his broad chest and his bright eyes. Even the stubble on his jaw - slightly auburn in the sunlight, made Drew’s chest seize.

“So, Mark? Is that the guy who says he was a friend of my dad’s?”

Drew blinked twice, shaking his head. Fucking idiot. “Huh?”

Bas’s smirk didn’t help Drew’s good intentions. God, even when the guy was insufferable, he was the hottest thing Drew had ever seen.

“You said you embarrassed yourself replying to Mark, and I was wondering who I needed to thank for flustering Attorney McMann. Was it the same guy who’s been emailing Margaret about having us work on a project? Or was that Michael somebody?”

“Oh, right. Peter mentioned that yesterday, but I haven’t looked into it yet.”

“Yeah, me neither. But the dude is relentless - sent another email this morning! - and he’s starting to piss me off. Says to remember Collier. Do you know who or what that is?”

“Uh… nope?”

Bas hummed a frustrated noise. “I’ll ask Margaret to look into it.”

“No need. I can have Peter work on it.”

“Where is Pete today?” Bas wondered. “He’s not breathing fire at your door.” He grinned. “That was a dragon joke. In deference to your game.”

Drew rolled his eyes and made a gagging noise. It was possibly the worst joke ever, but Drew couldn’t hide his grin.

“A bit oblique, I grant you,” Bas said, waving a hand.

Right. Fine. So Bas telling the world’s stupidest jokes made his heart pound faster than any of hot-Mark’s pictures. Adjustment period, Drew reminded himself.

“Peter is sorting out a mess with my mother’s apartment, actually,” he said with a sigh. “Something about her agreeing to renovations on her condo, but not providing the contractor with signed paperwork before she went out of town.” He rolled his eyes. “Peter’s lesser-known duties include attending to the daily Mary-Alice McMann drama. He should be back any minute.”

Bas nodded. “Your mom is lucky to have you.”

“I guess. I think Amy would’ve handled her better.” He shrugged.

“Nah. Amy wouldn’t have taken the time you do, and practical things weren’t her strong suit,” Bas said casually, sipping his coffee like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. But before Drew could recover from his shock, Bas continued, “If that’s not Mark, who is?”

Damn Sebastian Seaver for being so fucking single-minded. “No one important.”

Now Bas’s smirk turned to a frown, though his eyes still danced. “Is this a secret?”

“No.” Drew waved a hand in the air. They’d never talked about Drew’s dates, and it seemed particularly weird to start now, with Halloween still hovering in the air between them. “What brings you here today?”

Bas shook his head, refusing to be diverted. “You know when you resist, it only makes me more determined. You have met me, yes?”

But Drew hadn’t graduated at the top of his class in law school because he was easily distracted. “Ah. You came here to bait me? Then surely you’ve got something to say about my hair cut? Or my shirt?”

The weight of Bas’s stare as it moved from Drew’s hair down to his lavender shirt was slow, thorough, and nearly palpable.

Uh. Whoa.

Had Sebastian ever looked at him that way before? If so, Drew was pretty sure he would have memorized the date.

More likely, you’re misreading things, he told himself firmly. Seeing looks that aren’t there. That messed-up corner of his mind that seemed to live for self-sabotage was trying to derail him from what he knew was the right thing to do.

Well, it wouldn’t work.

“You look good,” Bas said in low rumble. “Purple is a good color on you.”

Drew blinked. He read people for a living, and he would nearly swear there was flirtation in Sebastian’s voice. But there couldn’t be. Could there?

And Jesus, why now? Why was the universe tempting him with hope just as soon as he’d recognized the error of his ways?

“Ah. Thanks?” Drew smoothed down the front of his shirt and couldn’t meet Bas’s eyes.

“So, I had an idea,” Bas told him, sipping his own coffee easily.

Drew darted a look from under his lashes. “Really? You? An idea? How odd.”

“Hush,” Bas said mildly, refusing to rise to the bait. Curiouser and curiouser. “I decided to take your suggestion from last night.”

Drew thought back to their conversation last night in the lab - how fucking good it had felt to be near Bas again, his resolve to keep things easy and peaceful between them, and then their near argument about Bas’s nearly-suicidal insistence on going after SILA on his own.

“Which suggestion?” he asked.

Bas raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just that all my ideas are good,” Drew said, spreading his hands wide.

Leaning forward into a shaft of sunlight, Bas set his cup on the desk.

“Specifically, the one about getting help before going after SILA.”

Drew frowned. “We’re calling a meeting for this weekend, right? Baking cakes and all?”

Bas nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. “But you know I can’t just sit still for two more days.”

“Uh huh.” Drew rolled his eyes. Imagine forty-eight whole hours without obsessing over a single thing!

“I realized I’ve been going about this all wrong,” Bas said, blue eyes serious. “Trying to hack their systems directly, when maybe I need to get a clearer picture of the organization.”

“Okay,” Drew said, drawing the word out. “Are you planning to join up instead? Get the inside track that way?”

Bas scowled and sat back, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s like you forget who’s supposed to be the smart-ass here.”

“Sorry.” Drew mimed drawing a zipper across his mouth.

“You’re not going to interrupt?” Bas demanded. “Oh, this will be great. I give you…” He pulled up his sleeve and consulted the thick platinum watch on his wrist. “Two minutes.”

Humph. Drew sat back, himself, folding his arms in conscious imitation of Sebastian’s pose. He would keep his mouth shut for two minutes if it killed him.

“Excellent,” Bas said, eyes alight. “I’ve waited so long for this moment. I’ve had so many things to say. Remember that time your dad got you that Bruins jersey? The one you wore for a solid week, until it went missing from your room randomly, and you could never find it again?”

Bas spread his hands out helplessly and hesitated like he was about to make a confession. Drew narrowed his eyes. He’d fucking loved that shirt, and Bas had insisted that he’d had nothing to do with its disappearance.

“I’ve always felt really sorry for you. And I’ve meant to tell you that.” Bas smiled beatifically. “That’s all.”

Drew felt his lips twitching, despite himself. God, he had no defenses when it came to this man. No matter that they were talking about something incredibly serious, no matter that they had so much unresolved bullshit between them, he couldn’t stop himself from appreciating everything about the man in front of him, even the parts that drove him crazy.

Drew tapped his own watch, raising an eyebrow in challenge, and Bas smiled.

“Right, back on topic. Remember when Cain was filling us in on everything his dad told him, right around Thanksgiving? He mentioned that there was dissension in the ranks at SILA. I was thinking maybe what we need to focus on is finding someone we can turn, finding someone who can be our Trojan horse. So, remember the reporter guy who did the interview with Cain Shaw a month or so back?”

A nod. Drew remembered it well. Cain, the son of a conservative Senator, had been closeted for years thanks to his father’s political ambitions, but he’d come out, not just to his family and friends, but spectacularly and publicly, with a well-publicized interview in The Herald. Drew remembered that the journalist who’d done the interview had been both fair and sympathetic, garnering publicity for the charity work Cain was doing, to boot.

“His name is Gary North,” Bas continued. “And before he covered national politics, he earned a name for himself doing investigative work on a certain Russian crime organization.”

Drew’s eyes narrowed. He recalled that, as well. Gary had written extensively about the power players within the organization, and although he’d never heard it officially, he wondered if the reason for Gary’s sudden shift to political work was really a shift at all. Emmett Shaw had been on SILA’s payroll, after all. And though that was an extremely well-guarded secret, it wouldn’t surprise Drew much if Gary had somehow learned the truth.

“I sent him an email asking him to meet,” Bas said heavily. “I’m not sure how much to tell him, or whether to pretend I have a sudden hypothetical interest in the Russian mob.” He shook his head. “That’s not my forte, as you know. Which is why I’m here.” He shrugged. “Will you come with me?”

Drew gave him a pointed look, glancing at his watch, and Bas let out a bark of laughter.

“You passed the two-minute mark, Attorney McMann. You win.”

“What do I get?” Drew asked. “For my fortitude?”

Bas shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m surprised that you were able to keep your mouth shut. You’ve clearly never had trouble keeping secrets.”

Drew cleared his throat. Yeah, Bas had mentioned that a couple of times this fall, like he somehow blamed Drew for keeping quiet about his feelings for so long. But Jesus, look at what had happened when he did mention it?

Nuclear fallout.

“Anyway.” Bas cleared his throat and looked out the window as he sipped his coffee, neatly closing the door on that conversation. “You can have the prize of your choice, if you come along for my meeting with Gary.”

Drew took a deep breath, trying to restore his mental equilibrium. “Ah, yeah. Yeah, sure.” He shook his head at himself, and called up the calendar on his phone, taking refuge in the simple task. “I’d be happy to. What time is the appointment?”

“This evening,” Bas said.

“This…this evening?”

“I told you I didn’t want to wait,” Bas reasoned.

Drew sighed, mentally reshuffling his end-of-day appointments. “What time?”

“Six. We’re meeting for drinks at some pub he likes.”

“I can do that,” Drew agreed. “Want me to meet you there?”

Bas looked at him like he had three heads. “Why the hell would I want to meet you there?”

Because after thirty years, things are awkward between us? Because I can barely hang onto my resolve to keep things platonic when you’re in my fucking office, let alone when we’re in a car together?

“Because you drive like Wiley Coyote on crack?” Drew offered, falling back on a decades-old joke.

“I drive like a Bostonian,” Bas corrected, pushing to his feet. “But that’s fine. You can drive.” He rapped his knuckles on Drew’s desktop and shot him a grin. “That’s your prize.”

“Lovely,” Drew said sourly, but he was actually glad. Much easier to be with Bas when he could focus on the road and there’d be no opportunity for deep conversation.

We’re friends. Friends, friends, friends.

“Have a good afternoon, counselor,” Bas teased as he strode gracefully to the door.

And Drew kept his gaze on Bas’s tight ass as he walked away… just like a friend.

He was so screwed.