His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

Free wasn’t shy as he eyed Hart appreciatively, from the tips of his big toes all the way to his… Free’s smoldering appraisal stopped at his beard.

“You cut some just now?” Free blurted out.

Hart chuckled at how perturbed Free looked. Like he’d missed the dead strands he’d clipped and let wash down the drain. “Only a bit. Gotta trim it regularly or I’ll end up looking like one of those guys in Duck Dynasty.”

Free barked a laugh, his entire face brightening his dimly-lit home. He stepped forward, his intense gaze still on Hart’s facial hair. “Are you ready to eat?”

Hart was always ready for that. He’d gotten used to eating on the fly and at crazy hours. Now that Free had mentioned it, he realized there was an amazing aroma coming from the kitchen. “Yeah. Smells good.”

“I hope that pasta and meat I warmed up was still good. Smelled fine,” Free said, following him into the kitchen.

“Should still be. It’s only been in there one—” Hart stopped short at the sight of a steaming plate on the table beside a large glass of ice water, even a neatly folded paper towel. Free had placed it out for him as if he were royalty…as if he was something special. Hell, even his wife had never done this. They used to eat buffet-style. There was no way he’d imagined that a man would do something like this for another. So considerate. He stood there stunned speechless.

“I um. I didn’t want to just leave it in the microwave.” Free wrung his hands. “I shouldn’t have…I thought…or do you eat in front of the television?”

Hart’s words were lodged in his throat but he managed to shake his head and sit at the table. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that was most likely just a thoughtful gesture. Nothing more. But, it still felt damn good. Free’s anxiety was quickly replaced with a relieved grin as he sat across from him.

“You’re not hungry?” Hart asked digging right in.

“No. I ate earlier.” Free drank from the bottle of water he’d taken out of the fridge. “I could never eat this late. I’d be up all night.”

Hart didn’t want to make Free sit there and watch him wolf down his dinner, so he drank half the glass of water and hurriedly wrapped it up. When he was scraping the plate with his fork, Free asked him, “So, how long have you and God been friends?”

Hart grumbled, “I’ve known bighead for too damn long. Since he was an oversized rookie. I was stationed at HQ, and God and Day were quickly making a name for themselves on the street. We got lots of history. Surprisingly, SWAT kept getting called in on their arrests. So, we interacted a lot. Long story short; when God got his own task force, he recommended me for his backup.”

Free was watching and hanging onto his every word as if he was telling some magnificent story. His life wasn’t anything to make a big deal about. He was a big boy from the most backwoods ass town in the country. Married for all the wrong reasons and still living with the repercussions. “I have a feeling your life was far more interesting than mine. I remember you said you were born in Baltimore, but raised in eastern England. I know I’ve told you this already but your accent drives me crazy.”

Free’s bright smile beamed all the way to the pit of his stomach, lighting his dreary world. “Thanks, handsome.”

Hart’s cheeks burned under his beard. What are we doing? They were flirting and blushing like school kids. Hart finished his water, needing the coolness to quench the fire in his gut.

“Yeah. I grew up in Peterborough. It’s a huge city full of culture, and my mom loved the arts. We could walk the British towns for hours…just she and I. She’s an artist and I was a techy. Our conversations would often get passionate.” Free laughed softly.

“She sounds fun,” Hart said, pushing his plate to the side and giving Free his full attention. He thought of getting up and putting on a pot of hot water for tea or coffee, but chose to let Free keep sharing.

“I only came back to the States to go to MIT. I…I hate I had to leave my mom. I was always the one that kept my dad in check and out of her face.” Free’s smile faded. Hart swallowed, not sure if he wanted to hear about anything bad done to the man in front of him. Free was such a gentle spirit. Hart had a hard time understanding who would want to destroy that. It was silent for a moment as Free picked at a few nicks on the oak table as if he was contemplating what to say.