“No way. Knoxville isn’t that small.”

Dustin stared doubtfully at the collection of photos and forensic reports from the investigators on scene. Among them all, he couldn’t help but notice one signature: unmistakably Leo.

It was a simple case: break and enter, but they’d found a few trace materials on the scene. The lead investigator was even sure he knew who did it. It was Dustin’s job to figure out if they were indeed fibers from their suspect’s shirt.

Sometimes he could tell after one glance at the tiny strands that their working theory was shit. His colleagues always hoped that things would be easy, and it was often his job to screw up their hypothesis, which didn’t always make him popular.

But the photographer’s name… Leo?

Dustin’s curiosity was itching terribly. Even by the time he’d finished cataloguing the last of the materials found on scene—white cotton fibers consistent with a thick sweater like the victims’ son had been wearing the night before—he couldn’t stop wondering.

“Got good news for me?” That was Jonathon, the lead investigator on this one, anxiously ducking into the lab. They always wanted things done twice as fast as possible, with half as much trace evidence as was ideal.

“Good for you, bad for your perp. The fibers were thick, white cotton. The photographer caught them on the broken window, right?”

“Yeah. And a few more on the floor.”

“Where exactly?” Dustin dropped into his rolling chair and flipped through the photos in the file. “Ah, there we are. On top of the glass.”

“So there’s no way it was left over from their fight the night before.” Jonathon pumped his fist. “I knew it.”

“The red powder is definitely a kind of paint from whatever was used to break the window. A hammer?” Dustin guessed. “I want to double-check where that was found. Is, uh, Leo in?”

“The new guy? Yeah, I think he’s here for a few more hours. I’ll grab him.”

Jonathon was gone, leaving Dustin barely enough time to prepare himself before Leo was walking into the room, Jonathon by his side.

One and the same.

“You had some questions?” The question died on Leo’s lips as he caught sight of Dustin, his eyes widening. “Oh, hey. Dustin.”

Dustin was feeling the same way. How the hell hadn’t he noticed this man before? And why hadn’t he recognized him last night? “Leo,” he greeted with a courteous nod, trying not to let his surprise register. Jonathan was right there, after all. “I don’t think we’ve met here.”

“No.” Leo’s lip quirked into a half-smile, reminding Dustin of the way he’d kissed him so thoroughly last night.

Fuck. He wasn’t lying about having to go to work.

“I think my shifts hadn’t lined up with yours yet.”

“Must be that,” Dustin agreed.

“So,” Jonathon interrupted, clearly impatient, “the paint flecks.”

“Right.”

Dustin could almost—almost—forget last night’s activities with his mind on work. He bounced around theories with them for a minute, double-checking that Leo had captured photos of the location of the paint fleck-dusted shard before they’d collected it for him.

Leo seemed almost offended. “Of course.”

“Then it’s watertight.” Jonathon nodded to himself. “We just gotta find the hammer, or whatever it was. Crowbar? Can you tell me what brand of paint those flecks are?”

Dustin gave him an icy look. “If you find me a tool, I can test it for a match. I don’t do color matching for living rooms or thieves’ tools.”

Leo choked back a noise of amusement, and Jonathon looked embarrassed for a moment. “Oh. Yeah,” Jonathon quickly muttered.

“I’d check the hardware stores nearby,” Dustin suggested. “Those are red flecks. Look for red tools.”

“And their garage, of course. Could have stolen something and returned it afterward…” Jonathon wandered out of the room, muttering to himself.

Leo glanced between the now-empty doorway and Dustin, and then laughed. “Good job, detective.”

“It’s my job.” Dustin shrugged and cleared his throat. “Sorry for asking about the photos earlier.”

“Nah. It’s okay. I am new,” Leo shook his head. “But you can count on me.”

Dustin gave him a quick, secretive smile. “I hope so.”

Leo cleared his throat. “I like your… attention to detail.” He gestured around. “I didn’t know… I mean, it fits. It’s cool. Good work. Not that you need my praise. I better make sure I’m not neglecting mine, hah. See you around.”

With that, he strode out, leaving Dustin blinking and staring after him. No sign of Jonathon returning, either.

“Men,” Dustin concluded after a few moments. Typical. Got what they needed and left. He was still trying not to smile as he looked at the doorway again.

Enough time wasted on men, anyway. He pulled the photos toward himself and paged through them again.

Leo had an eye for detail himself, and clearly good training: the photos were properly exposed, the depth of field was as broad as possible, and every piece of evidence was meticulously catalogued.

That kind of eye for detail was hot.

But why run away so fast? Maybe Leo was struggling with his own attraction. He had strongly implied he wasn’t gay at the bar, but he’d certainly been good in bed.

Could this be a thing? Or become one?

Dustin sank into a chair, pulling his keyboard closer. He had a report to type up. He didn’t have time to be daydreaming.

It didn’t stop the series of thoughts occurring to him: dating coworkers was never a good idea. Hookups never became real relationships in his experience. And in any case, a forensics guy was not the kind of man his family wanted him to end up with.

He already had a voicemail he was ignoring from his mother about the guy they’d made him go to dinner with last weekend. He was apparently looking for a date for some charity event. Dustin was damned if he was going to be someone’s arm candy when he didn’t even like the guy.

Leo, though? He could spend time around Leo and see what happened.

Nothing about this screamed fairytale romance, but it didn’t stop him wanting to pursue the possibility anyway.

Just in case. You never know.