Chapter Fifteen

They claim it's the happiest place on earth, but Reid's inclined to believe that Mickey is a lying rat bastard.

Because even though it's nearly October the air is hot enough to boil the meat right off their bones, and the press of sunburned tourists crowding the Magic Kingdom does nothing to help.

But then Reid looks at Nate, who's grinning like he's a six-year-old who has suddenly found himself in Narnia or some shit, and Reid can feel his heart melting like the sweat sliding down his back.

It should be weird, walking through Disney World with a 30-year-old former mob boss, but Reid's learned that Nate is really so much more than that.

Witnesses usually come to him because they're scared - they heard a rumor that their people were going to kill them or the cops have busted them and they've cut a deal. They're just saving their own asses, really. And they usually miss their old lives, happy to wax on nostalgically for hours about their work, their family and friends.

But for Nate there's only now. He clams up the moment anything else is broached; he takes no pride in who he once was. And Reid respects that. (It does make him worry about how Nate will do on the stand, but that's the prosecutor's problem.) All Reid has to do is make it through this day at Disney where Nate is determined to give them both a bit of the childhood they missed.

And even though they've never done it before, it feels natural when Nate reaches over to take his hand, keeping Reid with him as they thread through the crowd on Main Street.

Reid wants to move his fingers until they're intertwined with Nate's, or better yet, shoved into the back pocket of his jeans, but he contents himself with the loose contact of their palms, the feel of his fingers wrapping around the side of Nate's calloused hand.

And he manages to keep his cool for the better part of the morning - until Nate buys a chocolate-covered frozen banana from one of those stupid ice cream carts and proceeds to slurp on the thing in a manner befitting a porn star. Then Reid has to shove his hand into his pocket and pinch his thigh viciously until the pain forces his traitorous blood to route itself back up into his brain.

But it's like Nate is spending the day intentionally taunting him with a hundred tiny touches and lingering glances, like when he slides right next to Reid in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, their legs pressed together from hip to knee, Nate's arm resting behind Reid's shoulders along the back of the boat.

Reid's heart is fluttering in his chest and his cheeks are growing warm; he's never felt more like a girl.

He's got no problem with the fact that he's attracted to a dude. He accepted his sexuality a long time ago, simply considering himself an equal opportunity fuck. What he's not okay with is what he became aware of on that mountaintop with Nate's hand in his and the fantasy of a simple kiss. This is more than sex; this is romantic. He can even feel a word that he won't allow himself to think yet dancing at the far edges of his consciousness.

An "L" word.

Which is foreign and terrifying and horribly confusing, because Reid doesn't do crushes, doesn't even date beyond a single night. He's always moving on, always with a new assignment in a new town, and never able to tell the truth about what he does for a living even on the very rare occasions where he'd actually like to grow closer to someone.

But on some level he thinks he must have known, fucking had to have known, that this would happen when he volunteered for this roaming bodyguard gig. Because how could he not fall for the brave idiot willing to go up against his entire family in order to do what he thinks is right? Especially with that messy sex hair and ridiculous, soulful eyes and those long, elegant fingers that promise sizable other appendages.

But it's not just the way Nate looks or that he wants to make amends for his past. Reid has fallen in love with him the same way he's gotten to know him - through a million seemingly insignificant moments, tiny gestures like the way him eyes squint when he frowns, or how he rubs at the back of his neck when he's feeling shy. How adorable he is in the morning, all blurry eyes and rumpled hair, a grumpy teddy bear until he has his coffee - and what a stark contrast that is to the sharp and skillful man he is afterward. How warm and soft his skin was two nights ago when he was having a nightmare that Reid had to crawl into bed beside him to soothe away.

Which is how he'd ended up at Disney in the first place. It was unprofessional to come here and Reid knows it; they're far too vulnerable in these crowds. But when Nate asked him he'd gotten this look, one that Reid is quickly learning he's completely incapable of resisting.

Fucking manipulative bastard.

...Why do I think that's so hot?

And then Reid finds himself paying an amount that should be illegal to park the Camaro under a sign with a cartoon dog painted on it while he spends all day traipsing around a princess' castle with a metric fuckton of people, any one of whom could recognize Nate and ruin everything.

*******

Late in the afternoon, they settle in on a curb in front of Cinderella's castle to wait for the fireworks and electrical parade, Reid careful to keep the cuff of his jeans pulled down so he doesn't accidentally flash his ankle holster at the gaggle of giggling teenagers across from them. His fingers twitch, checking to make sure he still has his gun, and he scans the crowds as well as he can. But he can't watch everyone, can't protect Nate the way he needs to.

And as they sit on the hard cement and wait for nightfall, Nate can read the tension in the clench of Reid's jaw and the watchful flick of his eyes. Their day at Disney was supposed to be fun, one last bit of relaxation before the deposition.

So he decides to do something about it.

He hops up, Reid automatically standing to follow.

"No, stay and hold our seats. I'll be right back."

Reid frowns but stays quiet, telling himself that if Nate goes any farther than 20 feet that he's chasing after him. But Nate doesn't go far, stopping at a vendor's cart rolling down the street with toys and balloons and snacks.

And in just a moment he's back, a pair of red, flashing, light-up Mickey ears on a headband clasped in his hands.

Christ, Nate, like you didn't have a big enough target painted on you.

But when he sits down, flushed and grinning, he doesn't put them on.

He signs, his hands so fast and giddy and full of bouncing Mickey ears that Reid barely catches what he says. "When in Rome, Reid."

And then he reaches over and perches them on top of Reid's head, flicking one of the ears so it jiggles around for a moment.

Reid Logan, professional badass on the run from assassins, is wearing a headband with glowing mouse ears.

He feels like a fucking moron.

He can see the flashing red light of the ears at the edge of his vision and hears the girls across from them start giggling again, but suddenly none of it matters. Because Nate is laughing, open and honest and adorable.

So Reid doesn't grumble, doesn't even think about taking them off. He just shakes his head, his face splitting into a huge smile against his will. And then he stands, jogging over to the same vendor with a wicked gleam in his eye.

It's a scrawny teenager with an acne problem and terrible body odor, but even he laughs when he looks up at Reid.

"Hey, man. Nice headband."

"Yeah, thanks," Reid mutters, barely paying attention. He's too busy darting his eyes between the selection before him and Nate, watching him from the curb with a curious expression.

There's too much to choose from, and Reid knows he has to find something more ridiculous than what Nate bought. There's all variations of mouse ears and Goofy faces and Daffy Duck bills, but none of them seem quite right. And then he sees it, tucked in the back and sparkling at him. Perfect.

Triumphant, he buys it along with a bag of cotton candy and heads back to Nate, who has sprawled out across his spot and Reid's as he watches a bee buzzing lazily above his head.

And then Nate can't see anything, because Reid has dropped something onto his upturned face. He snatches it away and stares.

It's a hat - a tall, conical, princess hat. It's pink and glittery, with a silver scarf flowing from the point and an elastic strap that Reid pops into place under Nate's chin.

"Payback's a bitch, Nate." Reid rips into the bag of blue cotton candy he bought, shoves a giant bite into his mouth. "Besides, pink's a good color on you."

Reid grins, the flashing light from the Mickey ears showing the blue stain the cotton candy left on his lips. And Nate is struck by the sudden, intense desire to lick them clean, to trace the perfect bow of Reid's mouth with his tongue, to nibble and suck on his bottom lip, to see if he could draw a groan out of Reid.

See how his desire would taste.

He's been indulging himself like this all day, with little fantasies and touches, and every time Reid has let him grab his hand or press against him, Nate has had to fight to swallow his heart back down into his chest. Because it shouldn't leap into his throat with hope; he knows this isn't his real life. This is a vacation, a bubble, a few short months of adventure in a lifetime that is too scarred to ever hold this kind of beauty in it for long.

The parade starts, the streetlights turning out as the lighted floats drive past.

And when Cinderella waves while costumed mice dance around her, Reid leans over and whispers to Nate.

"You ever tell Ben about any of this and I'll kill you myself, testimony be damned."

Nate just nods, mesmerized and letting a handful of cotton candy melt on his tongue, the glitter on his hat sparkling red with every flash from Reid's mouse ears.

They watch the parade in silence, happily looking like a couple of idiots.

*******

The fireworks start, the sudden booms making them both jump. Reid's hand is halfway to his gun before he stops himself; Nathaniel is instinctively reaching for a switchblade he hasn't carried in months. Their hearts are pounding and Reid's spinning in his seat, but everyone else is just staring up at the sky in awe.

And even after they realize that there's no danger, Nate grabs at Reid's knee to steady himself. He wasn't thinking, and he blushes when he feels the muscular thigh and the sharp bone of knee under him palm, but when he goes to pull his hand back Reid reaches down and traps it under his own.

So they stay like that through the choreographed flashes of light and cheesy Disney music, their fingers gummy with sweat and sugar and neither one minding that their skin is sticking together.

But it's not until the very end of the night, when they're spinning dizzily through the dark on the teacup ride, their hands tangled together as they grasp and pull on the wheel between them, Nate's eyes flashing as he laughs and Reid's ears sliding at a crazy angle across his head, that they both begin to think, maybe.

Maybe this thing between us is actually mutual.

Maybe we could really be together.

Maybe it could all be practically perfect.

For that moment, Nate forgets about his past. Reid forgets about his professional duty. They're too consumed by the beautiful possibility of maybe.