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North stared at him. Then, to himself, he said, “What the fuck did I get myself into?”
When he moved to shut the door, Emery said, “North, I still believe John did the right thing, ending your contract with the department. But I hope you’ll remember that the breakfast, it was a bribe too. Don’t leave.” North wasn’t sure how much it cost Emery to add, “Please. This isn’t over.”
“What are friends for,” North said sourly and then, because things were getting real grab-assy, he slammed the door.
Upstairs, Shaw was pretending to sleep.
“How much did you hear?” North asked as he shut the door.
A yawn. An elaborate stretch. “Hm? Oh, where’d you—”
“Cut it out, or I’ll drink this unicorn latte your best friend got you.”
“No!”
With a roll of his eyes, North delivered the food and then dropped into a chair to take off the Red Wings. Shaw tore into the breakfast sandwich—it reminded North of some of those animal shows Tean occasionally put on TV, the ones where John-Henry always had to say, “No, that deer is fine, it’s just sleeping,” before ushering Evie and Lana out of the room. Throughout the process, though, Shaw somehow managed to keep his eyes locked on North.
Finally, North said, “What?”
Shaw kept eating. And looking.
“It’s not a big deal.” But Shaw was still staring at him, and North found himself fidgeting in his seat. “He wanted to talk. He…he made some good points about, uh, the stuff with John-Henry. He doesn’t want us to go home. He practically begged me.”
“And?”
North shrugged. “That’s it. I’m ok with staying, I guess. For a little longer. If you are.”
“I don’t care about that. I want to hear the good part.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“When he asked you to be his friend!”
It wasn’t exactly a surprise; Shaw was a born snoop, and the whole sham sleep meant North already suspected Shaw had heard some of it. But the friend revelation made him think of a lot of screaming and a lot—like, seriously, an overwhelming amount—of shredded newspaper. A part of North’s brain felt a moment of dismay as he thought, What the hell was he saving them for?
“Uh, he asked me to be his friend.”
“And you said yes!” Shaw practically sang the words. He kicked back the covers, tossed aside the now-empty sandwich wrapper, and clambered over to North. The tone was confusing, but North was pretty sure Shaw would go for his eyes, so he was unprepared when Shaw climbed on top of him and wrapped him in a hug.
“What’s happening?” North asked. “Are we fighting?”
“Of course we’re not fighting.”
“Is this a trick?”
“Of course it’s not a trick.”
“I don’t even want to be his friend. Is that why this is ok? Is that why—well, we don’t have any newspaper.”
Shaw hugged him tighter. He kissed North on the temple, and North was surprised to feel tears on Shaw’s face.
“What’s wrong? Hey, it doesn’t mean anything. He just said it because he knew I was pissed—”
“Of course he didn’t! Oh North, I’m so happy for you!” More kisses. And definitely tears.
“Well—” North wasn’t sure what to say, so he went with “I’m not!”
Shaw ignored that. He made more of those crooning, contented noises, and he planted a lot of kisses—so many, in fact, that North finally had to shove him away a few times. They ended up with Shaw sitting sideways on his lap, one of North’s arms around his waist. Shaw was beaming and blinking his eyes, still trying to clear them.
