Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Michael Quinn x James Harding (Project Blue Book)
The room is in silence, and near-darkness, the sky still pitch black. Not that it makes much difference with the blinds closed, the lamp on the desk in the corner of the room keeping them in a dim, copper glow.
Michael doesn't do anything to try and break the quiet. He just sits there on the edge of his bed. His hands are busy with doing up the buttons on his shirt, but his eyes keep sliding away to the mirror. It's better than outright watching Harding's back as he pulls his clothes back on. At least this way he can see his face.
Which means when Harding happens to glance at him, their reflections' eyes lock.
"Something to say, Quinn?" he asks, that hard tone of voice telling him not to answer that as he wants to.
"You're being too harsh on Hynek," he says flatly, and Harding scoffs, looking away. "He's a scientist, of course he's going to chase fact over fiction--which is what we're giving to the public every time we cover something up."
"We cover things up for their benefit, so that they don't go into mass hysteria," Harding retorts. "And I do not appreciate anyone questioning my judgment or decisions, especially not some professor."
Michael rolls his eyes, but he can't let it drop, gesturing an exasperated hand. "You wanted me to bring him on board because he could explain all of this better than we can. He's just trying to find the right way to do that, but you coming down hard on him is making him trust you--and me--less. Keep pushing him and he's going to go rogue, I can feel it, and what then?"
"He won't if you keep him in check," Harding insists, raising his eyebrows at him in the mirror. "Or do you not think you're up to the task anymore?"
The way he asks makes Michael's hands falter. He just stares for a moment, and try as he might, he can't fight off the faint smile that finds itself on his face.
Still, he does try, pressing his lips together and looking back down as he does the third to last button. Professional, he reminds himself. But something tells him that nothing about having his boss in his apartment at two in the morning is professional in the slightest.
He hears Harding sigh. Then muffled footsteps on the carpet until he's in front of him and his hand is cupping his chin. He tilts his head back up.
Michael looks up at him, raising his eyebrows. It's so much easier than it is at work, when his rank actually matters. Here, it always feel like they're on equal enough footing that he can challenge him openly. And something always sparks alive in Harding's eyes every time, as if, just for a few moments, he likes not having to control everything. Doesn't have to keep on all the masks he's been wearing for so long.
Voice softer now but not surprising, Harding says, "I just want to make sure nothing is jeopardized. You know how important it is that Hynek is on our side."
He does know. Blue Book needs his intellect and ability to convince anyone of anything, no matter how ridiculous it may sound.
"I can work with him," Michael promises.
Harding smiles back. "I know you will."
His eyes dart down, then he drops his hand to Michael's shirt, slipping the last button through the other side.
Michael stands up, bringing them face-to-face now. Surprise briefly crosses Harding's face but then it fades and he doesn't pull his hands away.
"Now that that's sorted..." Michael says slowly, voice quiet and pointed, eye dropping down for a moment.
Harding tries for a disapproving look that just ends up more amused than anything as he says, "Now, Captain, you have to be in the office by four-fifteen to get a briefing on a new assignment and collect Hynek."
Michael smirks, not bothering to hide it. "I don't think my boss will mind if I'm a little late."
He's already leaning in, catching a glimpse of Harding's grin before he feels the curve of his smile against his lips. He kisses him hard and Harding eagerly returns his passion, pressing forward. His hands are still on his shirt, now running over his chest, across his shoulders.
When they break apart, it's because of Harding. He blows out a breath and Michael grins.
"Another time," Harding says, now gently running his fingers along the buttons of his shirt as if he'd rather be saying something else.
Michael rolls his eyes, but he gives in. He nods as Harding then drops his hands back to his sides.
"Fine," he says, smiling, and curls his own hand around the back of Harding's neck. "I'll keep you updated on the case. Then when I get back..."
He draws him back in for another kiss, deliberately slow. He can feel Harding's reluctance to pull away when Michael does.
"...we can pick this back up."
Harding has no protests. He just nods his agreement, and Michael chuckles, pleased, but makes himself pull away fully.
