Coming Home

[bringstheheat]

They were home. The ride back to the prison had been a quiet one, with Mick drifting in and out of a doze while his partner took the wheel. Every so often a bump would jostle Mick awake, prompting a disoriented look around before remembering. He was himself again. Legs and all.

In the privacy of their own place, touch comes easier. Len helps him back to his cell and Mick leans into it, takes the help without having to put on any airs that he can handle being ripped apart and remade yet again. But there's a relief at being able to move only two feet and have a far easier time with his overall center of gravity that somehow made it all worthwhile.

He needs a hot shower and sleep. What he wants, on the other hand, is something more intimate. He wants to reach out, to touch and to see if his partner intended to make good on the promise behind that kiss they'd shared weeks ago.

As Mick levers himself down onto his bed, he catches Len's wrist before he can leave or find something else that he has to attend to.

"Stay."