“Some paramedic you are.” Mal shoves him gently in the arm, making Rowan stagger a foot away before bouncing back with his own light push.

“I’m fantastic at my job, dick.”

“Fantastic dick, that’s for sure.”

Rowan laughs again but takes the rare compliment. “Going to babysit my brother’s two kids on Thursday too. Caleb and Jacob.”

“How old?”

“He’s a year older than me.”

“Wh—no, the fuckin’ kids. Jesus, Red.”

Rowan’s face turns about as bright as the nickname.

“Right. Uh, Caleb is three, and Jacob just turned one.”

“Sounds like a fucking nightmare.”

“I love ’em. They’re cute as hell at that age. How ’bout I send you a pic of us?”

Mal’s quiet, mouth snapping shut from whatever reply he’d been about to make. Like maybe he realizes at the same time as Rowan does that that’s toeing a line that they’d agreed to set in stone at the beginning of their sexual relationship. Even after opening up somewhat about their pasts tonight, it’s still another step closer to that line.

“The fuck would I want a pic of your ugly mug for, huh?” Mal says eventually, but it’s soft.

“Could send you a dick pic instead,” Rowan offers, trying to lighten the suddenly tense mood.

“That’s more like it.”

By the time Rowan looks up to catch Mal’s profile against the yellow streetlights, they’ve reached their destination. And this time Rowan hesitates. Every other week, there’s been a clear decorum dictating how they should separate—a wave, a chaste see ya. Last time, a one-sided hug.

But for the umpteenth time tonight, Mal surprises him by dipping into a quick side hug that has every nerve on Rowan’s right side lighting up before he’s across the street and shouting, “See ya next week, Firecrotch.”

As far as partings go, this one is much better than the last, but somehow it feels much worse.

AS ROWAN lies in bed that night at nearly 2:00 a.m., once again staring at the blank expanse of his ceiling, he doesn’t know what to think about anything. Mal’s attitude toward him has been a fucking roller coaster this past week. Crawling up, spiraling down, and throwing Rowan for one loop after another. He only hopes that Mal opening up to him tonight means that he’s started to trust him with more than his body.

Though that trust apparently comes at the cost of his body. The new physical barriers that they need to have in place for the foreseeable future is an unfortunate price to pay for getting closer to Mal, though it’s one Rowan’s almost glad to pay.

But what keeps him awake long into the night is wondering if he’ll ever get to have both simultaneously. Eventually he falls into a deep sleep, dreaming of jasmine petals fluttering in the wind.