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”So.”
He glances at Albert. It’s a mistake. The man is staring back at him as if there’s something stuck on his face. No wonder Harry doesn’t like Albert.
Sheriff Truman. Not Harry. He should get a grip of himself, especially now that Albert’s eyeing him as if it’s obvious.
“So,” he says and takes another sip of his coffee. As far as he knows, Harry is still at the corridor, talking to Lucy about donuts. In a few minutes, Harry will walk to the conference room and find the two of them sitting here, him drinking coffee, Albert picking up clues about how far he’s already gone.
Not far. He likes to think that. He’s not far gone. It’s just a tiny crush.
“Coop,” Albert says with the most infuriating but perfectly polite smile lingering on his mouth. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Do you have anything new? About the body? Or are we waiting for Sheriff Truman?”
Harry.
Shit.
“I can see his charm,” Albert says, shifting closer, “I mean, I can observe it. Obviously, I’m immune.”
“Albert,” he says and takes another sip of his coffee, “stop it.”
“Stop what?”
He glances at Albert. The bastard glances at him and then, as if it’s not enough, winks.
And of course that is the exact moment Harry picks to walk to the conference room.
“Good morning,” Harry says to Albert in an icy tone.
“Good morning,” Albert says in a voice that seems to hint the morning isn’t good and even if it was, Albert wouldn’t want to waste it on Harry.
Dale means to tell them to stop bantering and talk about the case. They have a job to do. But before he can say it, Harry throws a glance at him, a frustrated glance that seems to say why the hell did you invite this man to my town?
God, he likes Harry.
He only realizes he’s smiling when Albert rolls his eyes.
**
“It’s not that I don’t understand what you see in him.”
“Albert, fuck off,” he says, because it’s getting late and the day’s been long. He says it nicely, though.
“I always knew your taste in men is odd.”
“Not as odd as yours.”
“I told you I don’t want you to mention that Colorado case ever again,” Albert says in a whisper, even though they’re alone on the parking lot. Dale hides his smile under his collar. “Anyway, I’m not saying that I find the target of your affection strange. Obviously, I do. But I won’t say that. What I will say is, I don’t know why you haven’t done anything about it.”
“Albert –“
“I bet he likes you,” Albert says, leaning closer to him.
“Don’t.”
“And he’d be lucky as hell to even get a chance at being with someone like –“
“Albert.”
“Fine,” Albert says and pats him on the shoulder. “You know being lonely looks good on you. It creates an illusion of profound personality. But, you know.”
He shouldn’t ask. But goddamn it, it’s been a long day. “I know what?”
“Sometimes,” Albert says and takes a step away from him, “it’s nice to have someone to touch.”
**
“Coop?”
He blinks. He’s standing next to his car, ready to get in, ready to drive to the hotel. It’s been at least five minutes after Albert left, maybe ten. There’s absolutely no reason for him to be still here.
He turns. Harry frowns at him, then closes the front door of the police department and walks the stairs down onto the asphalt, watching him. He tries on a smile. It doesn’t quite fit. “Harry. I was just… I was just about to leave.”
“I thought you did already,” Harry says and pushes both his hands to his pockets as if he’s trying to lose them there. “The thing is, I heard the two of you talking before.”
“Yes. Albert’s going to make the report about how the body –“
“Not about that,” Harry says and flinches.
Oh, fuck.
“Odd taste in men?”
“It wasn’t…” Dale says, clears his throat, tries again. He can talk to people. He’s an adult. He can… “It’s not that odd.”
“The window happened to be, well, not really shut. So, I heard you.”
“Harry,” he says and takes a deep breath. He never knew how to do this part, to tell someone he likes them. And he shouldn’t. They’re on a case. They’re working. Maybe Harry doesn’t have a clue. Maybe Harry doesn’t even know what odd taste in men means. Maybe Harry is a kind of a man who’d never considered kissing another man, for example, a special agent on a parking lot.
“What does it mean? Odd taste in men?”
He stares at Harry, who is staring straight back at him, looking him in the eyes, which might mean that Harry is either clueless or not so clueless after all. “For Albert,” he says slowly, “it means that I like you.”
“Me?” Harry says, frowning, then taking a step closer to Dale. Damn. Either Harry didn’t realise what he said or…
“Yes.”
“You like me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“In a professional way,” Harry says slowly, “like you like Albert.”
Dale tries not to laugh. He tries.
“So, you don’t like Albert.”
“Not the way that I like you,” he says, “no.”
“Coop,” Harry says, watching him, inching closer, hands still hidden in the pockets. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Me, neither,” he says and stares at Harry, who takes another step towards him. A few more steps, say, eight or nine, and they’ll be standing face to face. He wonders what Harry’s scent is like. Woods, probably. Motor oil. Manly things. And coffee, of course coffee. Damn how he likes coffee. “Harry, what are you doing?”
“I’m walking to you on the parking lot.”
“Okay.” He swallows. “And generally speaking?”
“Coop,” Harry says and stops in front of him, too close to him for it to be an accident, too far that there’s any reason to believe he’d be considering kissing Dale. “I know the hotel is great. And I’m sure your room is very nice. But I live by the lake. It’s very nice, too. In a different way. In a… less-organized way. But the view is great. There’s a lot of… nature.”
“I like nature,” Dale says, his voice coming out oddly dry.
“Well, then, maybe we should, I don’t know, have a cup of coffee. At my place.”
He’s going to say yes. He is. But he has to know. “Harry, it’s almost midnight.”
“You can stay for a night if you want to,” Harry says, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I think you’re doing great,” he says. His voice is hoarse now. He sounds like he’s out of breath and Harry hasn’t even touched him.
Yet.
Oh, God. He has to stop thinking about thoughts like those.
And also, he has to make sure he’s not going to later try to kiss a local sheriff who’s completely unaware of both his sexual inclination and his affections. “Harry, I like you a lot.”
“Goddamn,” Harry says, staring at him. “Good.”
“I mean, I like you in a way that’s a bit romantical.”
“Romantical.”
“Also sexual.”
Harry opens his mouth and then closes its. “Fine. Fine, then. I won’t say that I know how to… that I might… I won’t even say that I want to… I mean, it’s been just… I have rarely…”
“Harry,” Dale says and pulls his shoulders back, “it’s okay. I don’t expect you to…”
“Listen,” Harry says, clearly holding his breath, “it’s almost midnight. Come to my place. I’ll make you coffee.”
**
“Coop.”
“Shut up.”
“I just meant to say, it looks good on you.”
He takes a deep breath, then glances at Albert. He shouldn’t ask. “What does?”
“A nice romance with a local sheriff,” Albert says, “and from twenty to thirty minutes of clumsy but averagely enjoyable sex.”
He stares at Albert for a few seconds. “It was very enjoyable.”
“Really?” Albert says with a frown.
“Also very clumsy. Mostly on my part.”
Albert shakes his head. “You’re odd, Coop. Damn, you’re odd.”
“I really like him, Albert.”
“I know,” Albert says and pats him on shoulder. “He’s odd, too. A perfect match.”
He smiles at Albert. Albert looks at him looking both mildly disapproving and bored, so he gives up and takes a sip of his coffee. It’s a very nice morning.