Squared Away (Out of Uniform 5)

“What?” Isaiah raised an eyebrow at him. “I got some on my face?”

“No, you’re fine.” Mark looked away fast. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him. Maybe just stress. Stress was the reason he was suddenly desperate to know what ice cream would taste like on Isaiah’s full lips. That was all. Like post-mission adrenaline drop. He’d be back to normal soon enough. No more rogue impulses.

* * *

“I think I love them most when they’re sleeping.” Isaiah laughed softly as he followed Mark out of the girls’ room. Poor exhausted pumpkins, they’d gone to bed with minimal complaints but had wanted both him and Mark to do the story and tuck-in. Mark was surprisingly good at stories—did different voices for the characters and really threw himself into it, making the girls laugh and laugh.

“Three down. Is it bad if I say I really need a beer?” Mark groaned. Liam had fallen asleep in the car, and Mark, in another shocker, had been the one to manage the car seat to crib transfer, showing that Isaiah wasn’t the only one capable of that trick.

“I’m in.” Grabbing the baby monitor, Isaiah followed him back to the kitchen. After removing the top, Mark handed him a beer from the fridge.

“Try again for steak tomorrow?” Mark asked, gesturing at the untouched food in the fridge.

“Definitely. Right now though I’m gonna go collapse on the couch.” Isaiah headed for the family room, flopping onto the couch in an undignified heap, narrowly avoiding spilling his beer. He tossed the baby monitor on the floor with a fast prayer that Liam would sleep through the night. And the girls. Isaiah wasn’t sure that they’d stay asleep though—both girls had been having bad dreams ever since their parents’ accident, and the stress of the day would undoubtedly affect them both even more.

“Man, that was a day.”

“I’m sorry.” Mark took a seat next to him, not at the other end of the couch like Isaiah would have expected. He picked at his beer’s label. “For today. I should have watched them better. Shouldn’t have freaked out. I’m a fucking medic and I couldn’t do jack shit.”

“Mark.” Isaiah lifted his head enough to look Mark in the eyes. “I know they call you Wizard, but you’re still human. And kids are different than big SEALs. It’s okay that you got scared—”

“I don’t do scared.” Mark thumped the couch with his free hand. “I should have been able to control the situation. Shouldn’t have needed to lean so heavily on you. Should have had my kit. And kept my head about me.”

“Kit or no kit, you weren’t putting in sutures yourself.” Isaiah laughed. “Even the doctor said she couldn’t treat her kid. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I still could have acted better.” Stubborn as always, Mark’s jaw jutted out.

“And as for needing me, that’s what I’m here for.” If Mark was going to sit so close, Isaiah was totally going to use his knee as a pillow, avoid getting a pinched nerve in his neck. And happily, Mark didn’t object. His jeans-covered leg was warm under Isaiah’s head, and Isaiah had to work to find his train of thought. “Seriously. I meant what I said in front of the girls—we’re a good team. I’m not too proud to admit I needed the extra set of hands tonight.”

“Were you really worried about the social worker?” Mark stared down at him like part of him couldn’t believe Isaiah’s audacity at using him as a headrest. But he wasn’t pushing Isaiah away, so win.

“Yeah.” Isaiah wasn’t getting over the terror anytime soon. His arm ached, an old wound that wasn’t going away any time soon, but he wasn’t telling Mark about that.

“I would have had a lawyer there fast.” Mark’s hand came to rest on Isaiah’s hair. “I wouldn’t let them take the kids.”

“Thanks.” Isaiah was still a bit salty at how the social worker had calmed way the fuck down after Mark reappeared with the other kids. Calling him “next of kin” like Isaiah was an old shoe. And the military ID and take-charge attitude probably hadn’t hurt either. When he wasn’t doing the nervous dad freak-out, Mark had a way of filling up a room, where even the way he stood was impressive. He could get people to listen to him, something Isaiah had often struggled with. Shit wasn’t fair, but Mark’s hand in his hair felt too damn good to dwell on injustices right now.

“I like your hair grown out like this,” Mark said absently, fingers continuing to sift. “You used to wear it shorter.”

“So did you.” Isaiah laughed. Damn. This was nice. Lying here like this, Mark touching him like this, made his stomach all warm and tingly. “Just lazy really. Same deal with the face fuzz. Half the time I just can’t be bothered to shave.”