THE ELEVATOR WAS EXACTLY as Anthony remembered it, even if their entrance had been less than typical. Elliot was still chuckling as the doors slid closed, though he quickly coughed it down when Anthony glanced at him.
“Sorry,” said Elliot, sheepish. “Guess it’s been a while since anyone was here.”
“We shut down during the inquest,” Anthony reminded him—already going through the familiar motions of his ascent into the DVM.
“Yes.” Elliot glanced around the elevator. “I almost expected all this to be gone, honestly.”
“Me too,” admitted Anthony. He fell silent, looking around the elevator as if trying to memorize it. Which was silly—it wasn’t going anywhere.
Not anymore.
“So,” said Elliot, sounding awkward. “I guess... you’re in charge now, huh?”
“Acting Head of the DVM, yes,” said Anthony. He glanced at Elliot. “But so are you. Acting Head Analyst.”
Elliot’s mouth quirked. “You aren’t even surprised, are you?”
“A little, maybe,” admitted Anthony. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if we’d shut down entirely. I’m very glad we aren’t, though. Dr. Diabolical has been doing some strange things in Australia with voice-activated chickens.”
“Don’t forget the Rubicon Gang in Sri Lanka,” added Elliot. “I don’t like the reports I saw about them and that weird potato cult they’ve been pushing.”
“I think we should put some kind of surveillance on the Barracuda as well,” said Anthony. “There’s something fishy about those restaurants, and I don’t mean the menu.”
“Agreed. Are you going to—”
“Me?” Anthony paused. “No. I was thinking Daniels.”
“Daniels?” Elliot wrinkled his nose for a moment, and then chuckled. “Maybe. At least he knows what questions to ask before going on missions.”
“I heard that,” said Anthony.
“Good, you were meant to.” Elliot paused. “Hard to imagine you sitting behind a desk for the rest of your career, though.”
“I know.” Anthony’s mouth twisted. Bea’s desk was long gone – and her office completely redesigned – but the thought of sitting in it wasn’t the least bit appealing. He’d have to add at least another dozen pillows, that might help. “It was part of the deal with reopening the DVM, though.”
“I know.” Elliot edged a little closer. “I have to say, I’m relieved that you won’t be in danger for a while.”
Anthony’s lips quirked into an almost-smile. It wasn’t much of a surprise; Elliot had made his relief about Anthony’s alive-and-safe status very clear every night for the last month. And most mornings, too. “Are you?”
Elliot elbowed him. “You know perfectly well I am.”
Anthony smiled. Elliot might have looked quiet and unassuming, but Anthony knew better.
Just as Anthony knew that what he was about to say needed saying, as much as neither of them wanted to say it.
No more charades, he told himself sternly. Not between us.
“Elliot. Speaking of....”
Elliot went still. “Yeah, I know.”
“It was all right, when we were in the field. But now....”
Elliot sighed. “You’re the head of the DVM, and I’m in charge of analysis. We should probably retain some kind of impartiality from opposite sides of the aisle.”
“Agreed.”
Elliot nodded, glumly. “So... that’s that. We’re going to be colleagues. No relationship.”
“Right.”
The applause started the moment the doors opened onto the DVM’s lobby.
“Woah.” Elliot probably didn’t realize he’d said it out loud, and Anthony resisted the urge to smile. He paused, per usual, and quietly straightened his sleeves as he waited for Elliot to acclimate himself.
Elliot readjusted his glasses, and by the time he finished, there was already a path to the elevators on the other side. Anthony started walking, cheers and applause on either side.
He took three steps before realizing that Elliot wasn’t next to him. Anthony glanced over his shoulder and saw Elliot still standing in the elevator door. “Are you coming?”
“They’re not actually applauding for me,” explained Elliot. “All I did was tag along.”
“Mmm,” agreed Anthony, even as he spotted the group of analysts in the far corner. They stood on chairs, every single one of them wearing pocket-protectors and glasses. One even held a sign reading YAY ELLIOT LIVE THE DREAM.
Anthony turned to Elliot, ready to point it out. Elliot, however, was already blushing up a storm. It was adorable.
“Elliot?” he said, gently.
Elliot took a breath. “Right,” he said, and stepped out of the elevator. Anthony waited until Elliot was next to him before starting to walk to the far end.
Elliot, much to his surprise and delight, didn’t fall back.
And the people crowding the lobby... didn’t care. He’d half expected gasps of shock and people holding Elliot back. In fact, he heard them whispering to themselves, “That’s Elliot! I’d heard he lost an arm—a leg—an eye!”
Just as many of them reached out for Elliot as they did Anthony. Just as many of them called Elliot’s name, too.
Anthony’s smile, when he finally reached the elevator on the far end, wasn’t forced in the slightest.
He turned and gave the crowds one final nod before the elevator doors closed. The sudden quiet when they did was almost too loud.
Elliot was still in shock. “Now I get why you use this for contemplation. That was... a lot.”
Anthony nodded. “It’s worse when I’m walking alone. All that attention can be very distracting. They saw you, though.”
Elliot’s blush was sweet. “Yeah, noticed that,” he muttered. “Well. It’s not like it’ll happen again. There’s too much work here; I can’t go gallivanting off after you anymore.”
“No more gallivanting,” Anthony reminded him. “Not if I’m running the place.”
“Yeah,” said Elliot, sounding just as glum as Anthony felt. “I guess we’re both stuck here.”
“Yes,” said Anthony.
They stood quietly, side by side for a moment.
“Oh, fuck it,” said Elliot, with sudden vehemence.
“Oh, thank God,” groaned Anthony with relief, turning to Elliot at the same time as Elliot turned to him in a brutal, searing kiss that had Anthony up against the wall of the elevator before Anthony could think twice about it.
“Sorry,” gasped Elliot.
Anthony pulled at Elliot’s shirt, untucking it from his pants, just to graze his fingers against Elliot’s skin. Tit for tat, really, considering Elliot was unbuttoning his shirt. One of the buttons popped off and zinged across the elevator.
“Sorry,” repeated Elliot.
“I’m not,” growled Anthony, and sucked a hickey into Elliot’s neck. “I have other shirts.”
“I can’t destroy them all.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Anthony, we’re at work.”