Brendan & Vincent's Place

Plus a bonus double-drabble, because I had screencap love this morning.




This was the guy?

The man closed the door. Tall, a little pasty for color, but those eyes... that rumpled blue shirt and nondescript navy tie he must have borrowed from his grandfather.

He seemed rushed as he walked to the table, tucking the last of his shirttail, still not really making direct eye contact. This was the guy the NSA had sent to find him? At the moment, he didn't look like he could find his ass with both...

Did his hair always look like that? Like he'd just rolled out of the sack? Nice.

He was staring now. When he brought his hands to rest on his hips, he still had one cuff unbuttoned, offering an enticing view of dark hair against the pale skin. This was Agent Brendan Dean? The same agent Dean who'd sent the Harbor Master into a major freak-out?

Vincent smiled back at the wide-eyed stare. There was something in the way Dean's collar flipped up in back and the way that bit of color flushed high on his cheeks... something about the way those broad shoulders balanced the brown leather holster slung low on his hip... and Vince was half in love already.