“You smell like the wind,” Mal said, as Knight entered the room.
“I wen’ f’r a ride.”
“Kitty’s fixed already?”
“Valko’s bike.”
Mal chewed the inside of his cheek. “Valko’s bike.”
Knight nodded and waited. He waited for Mal to say something, do something, be angry, frustrated or bring out the fact that he had been waiting at home for a while for him, when he could have been out with his stripper friends. Knight stood there, his jacket in his hand, and waited.
Mal got up. He walked – glided, like a cat – over to him. He stood looking into Knight’s eyes, and then draped his arms around Knight’s shoulders. Knight flinched.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I though’…you’d be mad…”
“Len, I’m not mad. You told me you were going to be late.” He leaned forward and nuzzled the bite mark on his neck. Knight closed his eyes, and cupped one hand behind Mal’s head.
“I shoulda tol’ ya why.”
“Yes,” Mal said quietly, “you should.”
Knight inclined his head and kissed Mal’s hair. “Sorry,” he murmured quietly. “Won’ do it again.”
“Won’t go for a ride again or won’t not tell me?” Mal raised his head, his ice blue eyes boring into Knight’s gray ones.
“I’ll tell ya if I go f’r a ride again.”
Mal smiled. “Good. I want you to go for a ride. He’s your friend.” Mal put his hands on Knight’s waist. “I want you to spend time with him.”
“I’d like t’ spend time wi’ you, too.”
“You do. You are. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Neither ‘m I.” Knight gently touched Mal’s face, and his thumb caressed his cheek. “Hungry?”
“You cooking?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m always hungry.” Mal planted a kiss on Knight, and went to the kitchen table. Knight smiled, watching him walk, watching his butt. Knight sprinted after Mal, caught him up in his arms, and carried him up the stairs, both of them laughing like fools.