Page 62 of The Bartender Special

Benny made a sound of distress that was caught somewhere between fear and exhaustion.

Yet his words were absolutely commanding.

“Get me out of here, Jack!”

Jack might have been an asshole sometimes but he knew when to not argue.

Not when Benny’s arm was a vise grip around his neck. A hold that tightened when he tried to bend down and grab the discarded shirt first.

“Leave it,” Benny yelled. “I have others.”

“Yes, sir.”

The walk into and through the kitchen didn’t show any signs of Benny loosening until the man checked, double checked, and triple checked that the spider hadn’t followed them.

“Not to sound like a broken record, but I think you’re good,” Jack tried again.

Benny didn’t seem convinced, but he did nod.

Jack made sure not to fully detach his arms until Benny’s feet were firm on the ground. Even still, he kept his grip on the man’s waist.

And, would you look at that, he did fit in between Jack’s hands.

“That thing was huge,” Benny said, eyes still facing towards the garage door they’d just flown through. “I mean, I’m not anti-spider but that thing was big enough for Callum to claim on his taxes. He should charge that sucker for rent while he’s at it.”

Benny fanned his face and added a little bounce up and down, anxiety as clear as his bare nipples staring right at Jack.

It was cute.

It was a sure sign that Benny hadn’t really put together their current situation.

“I’m not sure sacrificing your shirt to it is exactly frugal, though,” Jack pointed out. “And I’d hate for you to lose out on being sexy.”

It was like putting a drop of red food dye into a glass of water. Benny’s eyes widened and he threw his arms over his chest so quickly that they slapped his skin.

The reaction went from cute to concerning.

It was one thing to be shy and awkward and embarrassed for a moment. It was another to self-drown in mortification.

Especially over something that wasn’t something.

So, Jack reached out and touched the spot that he believed needed reminding that it was okay to scream and shout and throw clothing sometimes.

Benny’s cheek was warm against the palm of Jack’s hand.

“When I first moved to Arbor Bay, I had no idea what a cicada was. You know, those big-ass bugs that are loud as hell and leave those empty husks lying around everywhere? I had no idea they were a thing until Dixon thought it would be peak comedy to catch one and put it under my covers while I was sleeping.” Jack crinkled his nose at the memory. “I’m also not anti-cicada, but when I woke up with it on my neck, it forever gave me the fight reaction when I think something crawly is on me. I almost punched Mrs. Gert last year when a beetle managed to hitch a ride inside the bar and got on me.”

Benny didn’t blink, face still fully in Jack’s hold.

He did, however, become curious.

“Mrs. Gert. As in Mrs. Gertrude Langley? She’s on the beautification committee, right? The one Cal said tried to make all of Downtown’s mailboxes into farm-animal themed boxes. That’s the Mrs. Gert you almost punched?”

Jack nodded, the movement lightly moving Benny along with it.

“Let’s just say that she came real close to seeing something ugly hurled her way,” he said. “If Santana hadn’t acted as fast as she did, I wouldn’t be standing here to work a deal to save the bar. I would have long since been run out of town.”

Benny didn’t smile.