Harlequin's Slash Fic

Not Today

Title: Not Today
Author: Harlequin
Universe: Die Hard 4.0
Characters featured: John McClane/Matt Farrell
Category, Word count: Short story; 5001 words
Rating: R
Summary: Matt begins a brand new chapter in his life when he receives a job offer from the FBI’s Cyber Division, and he finds that legitimacy suits him. But of course nothing feels quite complete. We know what Matt is missing, but it takes him a while to figure it out.
First published: 29 June 2008 on Harlequin’s Slash Site; updated 30 June 2008


Not Today

‘Matt Farrell,’ he introduced himself to the feisty girl with the long reddish hair. She was John’s daughter, all right, except that her righteous fury made her spiky rather than molten.

‘Lucy McClane.’

He frowned. ‘I thought your name was Gennero. Lucy Gennero.’

‘Not today.’

And his heart went out to her; it was a physical sensation, as if his actual heart travelled through the intervening air to hers and doubled it. He loved her for backing John McClane so fiercely, so bravely. That’s when he should have known.

Of course Matt didn’t have medical insurance, but the FBI did the decent thing and told the hospital they’d cover his costs. The bed they gave him was in the far corner of one of the big wards. There was no window to look out of, but the bed itself was wider than he was used to, and way comfier than his own. Not that he was in it for long; late that night, as soon as he could sneak away, he hobbled off to find John, wheeling the drip with him.

John, of course, had a room to himself, with a window and armchairs for visitors. All very civilised. The place was dark except for a pool of light cast by the bedside lamp. John himself was asleep, his face more peaceful than Matt could ever have imagined it. He seemed free, almost, and Matt found himself deeply glad that John could lay down his burdens for a while, even if it was only while he slept.

‘Hey,’ someone said quietly from behind him.

Matt pivoted on his good leg. ‘Oh, hey, Lucy.’

‘Don’t stand there staring at him like that. You’ll wake him up!’

‘I dunno… He seems pretty far out of it.’

‘He never sleeps soundly,’ she told him. ‘It’s like part of him’s always on alert.’

Matt looked at John again, lying there solidly, heavily, with the sheets and blankets still neatly arranged over him and tucked in down the sides. ‘Must be damned good drugs, then,’ he muttered.


‘Nothing.’ He limped over to the chair beside her, sank down gratefully. ‘Is he doing all right?’

‘Yeah, they say he just needs to rest for now. Then physio for a while, and he’ll be fine.’

‘Good.’ Matt left a brief silence, but Lucy didn’t ask after his own wounds. Well, maybe they were both more interested in John McClane right now. ‘So,’ Matt started, ‘I get the impression he’s been in the wrong place at the wrong time before…’

Lucy grimaced. ‘Has he ever!’ And she started telling him about McClane’s adventures, starting way back when, before she was even born.

Eventually Lucy wound down. She seemed lost in contemplation, perhaps wondering how her father had even survived this long. After another quiet half-hour dragged by, she just curled her legs under her in the chair, found the right place to rest her head, and – without taking any notice at all of Matt – promptly dozed off.

He waited for a few minutes, a rueful smile hovering on his lips. He knew when a girl had dismissed his pretensions to her favour; it wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced that a hundred times before.

Once he was sure Lucy had settled, Matt got up and shuffled over to look down at John. Matt had already figured out that John was something special, but if even half of Lucy’s stories were true, then John was about as close as you could get to a hero in real life. There – under the bandages, wounds and scars, under the tough-guy attitude and the hard-worked muscle – there beat a good heart.

Matt pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed, and sat down. Let his hand rest on John’s where it lay on the blanket. ‘It’s the heart that makes you That Guy, isn’t it?’ he murmured. ‘It’s the good strong heart.’

John slumbered on, unaware, unmoved. Matt stifled a yawn, felt his eyelids droop. He really should get back down to his own bed. He really should. It’s not like he couldn’t do with the sleep…

Matt woke to find John smiling in amusement at him. It was dark and the whole bulding was quiet, and John was lying there in a golden pool of light, looking at Matt with fond humour. ‘Hey,’ the man said.

‘Hey, John.’ Matt lifted his head from where it had rested on their joined hands. Tried to surreptitiously wipe away a bit of drool from his mouth. He always did that when he slept, damn it… ‘How’re you doing?’ he asked brightly, hoping to divert the subject.

‘Fine. How’s the leg?’

‘Oh, fine,’ Matt said, trying to flex it. Dull pain stabbed through him, and he grimaced. ‘Well, maybe not so fine really, I dunno. D’you think they’d give me more of that morphine?’

John grinned. ‘You be careful of that stuff, kid. I got hooked once, after a couple of ops. It’s not much fun coming down off it.’

‘Oh.’ Matt sighed. ‘Oh well…’

‘Shouldn’t you be lying down somewhere?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I guess.’ He glanced at Lucy, still dozing on the armchair. ‘I guess we were both worried about you.’

John lay there for a long moment contemplating his daughter. Then he turned back to Matt. ‘Look, kid… I know you and Lucy had a, uh, a bit of a vibe going on there. But are you sure you wanna do something about it?’

‘Well…’ Matt looked nervously from one McClane to the other and back again. What exactly was he meant to say here? ‘I dunno.’

‘Cause I have to say, the first time I saw you, I kinda figured you were gay.’

Oof! Matt felt totally winded by that, as if John had suddenly punched him in the gut. ‘You did?’ he said weakly.

‘So I was kinda surprised that –’

‘Yeah.’ Matt cut him off. ‘Yeah, I get it.’ He looked down at their linked hands, and then belatedly whipped his own away as if John’s had suddenly turned to flame.

‘I just don’t want you leading my daughter on, that’s all.’

‘I get it,’ he repeated, starting to feel a bit aggrieved now.

‘Was I wrong?’

Matt sat there staring at nothing much. It was all too complicated to explain. And there was too much swirling around in his brain right now for Matt to know what to say or even what to think. ‘Well,’ he finally admitted, ‘maybe there’s something in that. Anyway, it’s not an issue. She already – she already made it clear she’s not interested.’

‘Oh. OK. That’s all right, then.’ And John sounded a bit chagrined, as if he regretted what he’d said, and would’ve preferred knowing it wasn’t an issue first so he needn’t have raised it at all.

Well, bad fucking luck, Matt silently retorted. He said, ‘I’d better get back,’ and started to stand up. His bad leg had stiffened, and his good leg was too tired to be happy about taking his full weight. John reached a hand to his elbow to help him, steady him, but Matt managed to hop back out of range. ‘Goodnight, John,’ he said, foolishly on his dignity.

‘Night, Matt.’

Matt started shuffling off, using the drip stand to lean on.

‘And thanks,’ John added.

‘For what?’ Matt asked, though he wondered if he really wanted to know.

‘For everything you did this weekend. Wouldn’t have gotten through it without you. The country would be in a lot worse shape right now, without what you did.’

‘Oh.’ Matt felt his hurt starting to melt away. Better than morphine, it was, praise from John McClane. Even when you were pissed off at him. Matt started to understand Lucy a bit better. ‘Oh, well, thanks. Goodnight!’ And then he was out of there, with John’s chuckle echoing in his ears. John was laughing at him.

Matt shuffled down the corridor, feeling bereft. Feeling as if he’d left something important of himself back in John McClane’s hospital room. As if he’d never be whole again.

Which was another moment in which he should have known.

As soon as Matt could get around with nothing more than a walking stick, the FBI had him in at headquarters for a marathon three-day debriefing, which became a consultancy to help them shore up national security again and design some new systems, which became a serious job offer with the Cyber Division.

‘Uh,’ was his initial intelligent reaction, ‘I dunno.’ He looked up at Bowman for a long moment. He was respecting Bowman and the brains in his fuzzy little head a lot more these days. ‘I dunno about cutting my hair, man…’

Bowman grinned. ‘You don’t have to cut your hair. Just wash it occasionally. And shave.’

‘Not to be all Show me the money, but how much are we talking about?’

Bowman told him straight, and then listed the benefits.

Matt whistled through his teeth. ‘The hell…’ Warlock would never talk to him again, but McClane would approve, if he ever found out. Matt would have to live in Washington DC. He’d finally have to ditch the student lifestyle he’d clung to for so long. He’d be indisputably one of the good guys, at least for a while; surely that would wipe the slate clean and give him some more options.

‘I’ll throw in your own office,’ Bowman said, ‘and every state-of-the-art gadget you need.’ But he was just humouring Matt now; Matt could see he wasn’t gonna take no for an answer.

‘All right,’ Matt finally said. ‘All right. Thanks.’

‘Good. When can you move down?’

Matt shrugged. His apartment and everything in it had been pretty much written off the night he met John McClane. He was carrying or wearing everything he owned. ‘Consider me moved.’

Bowman grinned at him again. ‘Good.’

Matt hadn’t seen or heard from John McClane since he’d checked out of hospital, but one day he walked out of headquarters at six o’clock in the evening, and there John was, sitting on a bench just down the street, waiting for him. McClane looked him up and down as Matt walked towards him, and cracked a smile. ‘Look at you, kid!’ he said with a liberal dose of sarcasm. ‘They got you all cleaned up.’

Matt glanced down at himself, thought back to the scruffiness of July, and ruefully acknowledged the transformation. He was in a dark blue suit and white shirt now, and his light blue tie was neatly rolled in his jacket pocket. He was wearing proper black lace-ups, and his laptop bag was smart leather. His hair was still shaggily long, it was true, but it was clean and tidily trimmed. In contrast, John was casual in jeans, t-shirt and baseball jacket. ‘It’s a wonder you even recognised me,’ Matt said.

John just looked at him, and for a moment – unless Matt was imagining things – his smile turned a little sweet. Definitely fond. But then he was back to John’s default expression of good-humoured but enigmatic. ‘You wanna beer, kid? Or coffee?’

‘Coffee would be good.’


Matt wasn’t quite ready to suggest his place. ‘There’s a Starbucks just round the corner.’

‘Of course there is,’ John flatly replied. But he immediately got up and set off at Matt’s side.

‘So how d’you know where I was?’ Matt asked once they were settled with their coffees at a little table hidden away in the back corner. McClane had just gone for brewed coffee with milk, while Matt had his usual Mocha Frappuccino with an extra shot and caramel drizzle.

McClane shrugged. ‘Bowman.’

Matt should have known. ‘Did he call you before or after he made me the job offer?’


‘You put in a good word for me?’

John glanced away, and muttered, ‘Something like that.’

‘He wanted to know which side I was on?’

Suddenly John was fixing him with a curiously intense stare, an intensely curious stare. Matt was caught there, pinned, breathless. Hearing another question: Which team do you bat for, kid? Matt mentally scrambled for an answer, something to tell himself. Something to tell John. Something that wasn’t too complicated.

But all John said was, ‘He already knew.’


John grimaced at Matt’s slowness. ‘He already knew you were on the side of the angels.’

Matt let out a surprised laugh at that: he was on John’s side, and he already had McClane pegged as a hero, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to add wings and a flaming sword.

But John was still grimacing, and now hanging his head. ‘He already knew,’ the older man said again. ‘When I called him from the truck, when you and Lucy were hostage in the hazmat truck, he asked where you were, and I just said, He’s with them, and it wasn’t until afterwards I thought he could have taken that the wrong way.’

‘But as soon as he came to the warehouse, he told them I was with you,’ Matt finished the story for him. ‘So he got it right. No harm done.’

John wouldn’t even look at him. ‘I could’ve got you shot!’

‘No harm done,’ Matt inanely repeated, not knowing what to do with this penitent version of John McClane.

Then John lifted his head and was fixing him with that intense stare again – and suddenly Matt knew exactly what to do with him. It was the moment in which it all finally came clear. ‘Come back to my place,’ he said on a breath. He’d lost his voice. ‘Now.’

John remained mute, and doubt now blunted the edge of his intensity. The curiosity was still there, though, in full measure. Finally he nodded, and stood. Led the way back out of the coffee shop.

They walked down the sidewalk together, and Matt was preternaturally aware of each of them, of their bodies from top to toe, from shoulder to shoulder, walking there side by side with a foot of cool air between them. They’d take the metro, they’d be at his place in about fifteen minutes. It would be the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

Matt was just about to point the way to the nearest metro station, when John stalled, came to a stop. Matt turned and stared at him, silently pleading with the man not to change his mind.

But John just shrugged, and indicated the building they were standing outside. ‘My hotel,’ he said. It was an offer, an invitation.

Matt nodded, and followed him inside. There could be no question now that they’d understood each other. A hotel room meant casual sex. It’s not like John had asked him over to watch the football or baseball or whatever. It’s not like he’d suggested a raid on the mini bar.

They avoided each other’s gaze as the elevator took them up to the fifth floor, as they walked down the long silent corridor. Then John was clumsily sliding the key through the lock – it took him three tries, and when had Matt ever seen him clumsy? – and standing back to let Matt inside.

Matt headed for the nearest chair, heard the door close solidly behind him, heard McClane shoot the bolt home. Lifted the laptop bag off his shoulder and put it down neatly on the chair. Shrugged off his suit jacket, and carefully folded it, draped it over the bag. The room was still dim; John hadn’t turned on the lights, and though he’d left the main curtains open, the evening was muted by the net curtains. Matt could hear a rustle behind him, and wasn’t sure what he’d find when he turned around. John, naked to the waist? The sheets and blankets already turned down? He took a breath and turned.

But John was simply sitting on the foot of the bed, still dressed. Like Matt, he’d taken his jacket off, that was all. Even now, either of them could deny what they’d come here for. Nothing had been said. Nothing had been done that couldn’t be undone. John was just sitting there. Matt could reach for the TV remote, distract him with the sports channels. Matt could suggest they call for a room service meal. Matt could go sit in the other chair, several feet away from the other man.

Matt refused to be that cowardly.

He walked steadily towards John, stood within the solid right-angle of his open thighs, bent his head as John lifted his, and their mouths met in a tentative kiss. Then John’s hands brushed around Matt’s waist, and his arms were encircling him, and Matt’s hands were on John’s face and throat, and he surrendered any last doubts with a groan.

A timeless while later, and they were still there on the foot of the bed. Matt was sitting on John McClane’s thigh, and his lips were sore from kissing, and he was so hot for this man he could hardly even string two thoughts together, and their arms and hands were hungry, greedy for each other. And yet they’d done nothing more than hold each other, and kiss, and caress.

John picked up on his stillness, and came to a halt himself, tucking his head into the juncture of Matt’s neck and shoulder. They held each other for a few minutes more.

Then Matt whispered, ‘Are we gonna go for this, or what? Cause, man, if we don’t, I am gonna need the world’s coldest shower. In fact, I think I’ll need a whole bathtub full of ice… Do they even have ice machines here?’

A huff of silent laughter blew past Matt’s throat. Then John was looking up at him, examining him, apparently still uncertain about something. Did he really still not trust Matt enough?

‘Come on, man,’ Matt pleaded. ‘Haven’t I proved myself yet? Side of the angels, remember?’

Another huff, and a wry smile. Then John slipped one arm under Matt’s thighs, lifted him in both arms, and fell back on the bed, taking Matt with him. A moment later he was leaning over Matt, a hand at Matt’s zipper, then burrowing down into his shorts – and Matt let out a yell as that knowing hand wrapped firmly around him and began a devastating rhythm.

‘Oh man…’ Matt was panting audibly now, and he didn’t even care. ‘Oh man!’ he yelled, and John didn’t even hush him. ‘No, no, no,’ he protested – and the climax was upon him, swamping him, and it was almost too exquisite to be pleasurable, but it was such a profound relief, such a pledge of future pleasures, that Matt loved it anyway. ‘Oh John,’ he breathed in the aftermath, as John’s clever hand teased the sensations out, led them on forever. ‘Oh John, my… my man, my hero, my angel…’

He looked up at John, and found cool amusement in answer to his endearments. But Matt didn’t care, and anyway it was his turn now. He hauled himself up onto his elbow, and reached down for John, just as John had reached for him. He pressed himself up against the older man, let his hand explore balls as well as cock, started another kiss, slipping his tongue into John’s mouth when it opened for him, and soon he was chasing down John’s orgasm, and John’s hips were rocking, John’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him close, so close, and then John came with a shout, his semen pouring out in a gratifying mess, and John clutching him up tight, groaning his name, ‘Matt… Matthew…’

And then they just lay there in each other’s arms. Bonded.

Eventually John heeled off his shoes, and shuffled back further onto the bed so he could rest his head on a pillow. He didn’t bother doing up his jeans again, Matt was pleased to note. Matt took off his shoes and belt, and then crawled up the bed – was absurdly pleased to find John lifting his arms towards him, welcoming him into a friendly embrace.

They lay there together some more.

But of course Matt couldn’t stay quiet forever. ‘John… John, you didn’t come to Washington just for me, did you?’ And he knew the answer. McClane would have needed another reason to be here.

Nevertheless, John squeezed him as a kinda apology. ‘No, kid. Police business; I can’t tell you what.’ Matt must have reacted with real wide-eyed naivety, cause John chuckled at him and confessed, ‘Nah, just a conference. Didn’t really wanna go, but as soon as they said Washington, I thought –’

‘What? What did you think?’

‘I wanted to check up on you, that’s all, make sure you’re doing OK. Though I knew Bowman would be keeping an eye on you.’

Matt felt dully aggrieved that even now – ‘Even now you guys still don’t trust me?’

‘You know what I meant,’ John grumbled. ‘Not keeping an eye on you, just looking out for you, is all.’

‘When I was hacking, well, I know it’s kinda a grey area, but I never really did anything illegal, not really, until – And I didn’t know it was wrong, I didn’t know what Gabriel was gonna do with that algorithm –’

‘Yeah, you did,’ John said easily, non-judgmentally. ‘You knew, or you suspected, and you still went ahead and did it.’

Matt thought about that for a moment, but he already knew it was the truth. He’d admitted as much to Warlock even before John came knocking on his door. He sighed. ‘Yeah. All right. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.’ He pulled away from John’s embrace, sat up with his back to him. Man, that had been nice, and he felt cold now that it was over. He felt like he was in that bath of ice. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘I know that,’ John said. ‘That’s why we’re looking out for you, kid.’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ he said, and even he thought that he sounded like a sulky little brat. Matt sighed. ‘So, you didn’t plan on finally getting into my shorts, then?’

‘No, kid.’

‘That was just an added bonus?’

John let out a dry bark of a laugh. ‘Matt – Matt – hell, I don’t know what it was. You’re gonna have to give me a while to figure that out. Sometimes us old guys have trouble keeping up.’ And John laughed again, a quiet kind of chuckle, as if he was genuinely bemused by all the curve balls that life kept throwing him.

Matt slowly turned around to consider the man. What the fuck…? He’d been assuming that John had had it figured out all along. ‘Even back in the hospital,’ Matt said. ‘Even that first day!’ he protested. ‘There you were, asking if you were sexy, all beat up. Then at the hospital you’re using the G word –’

‘What, gay?’ John asked in surprise.


‘I was talking about you,’ John explained. ‘Not me.’

‘Not you? You mean you’re not?’


‘You’re straight?’

John laughed again. And he was still lying there as if he was completely comfortable in the midst of all this chaos. ‘Straight…? Well,’ he answered with a chuckle, ‘not today, apparently.’

Matt was flabbergasted. ‘John – John – that was my first time. With a guy.’

That got his attention. John quit looking so amused, and instead stared up at Matt quite soberly. ‘But you said –’ Then he frowned, obviously trying to remember exactly what Matt had said.

‘I said maybe. It’s complicated! I’ve had – feelings. Inclinations, sure. But I never –’

‘What about girls?’ John quickly asked. ‘You’ve been with girls?’

‘Some,’ Matt grudgingly replied. ‘I guess I’m both, I’m bi. But I –’ Oh, he hated admitting this to another man. ‘It’s not like it’s my first time ever. But I never was the kinda guy who got lucky very often. I always thought that would change when I went to uni, when I graduated, when I started wearing a suit to work…’ But it never did. Until today.

‘Oh,’ said John. He withdrew into his own thoughts for a long moment. And then he started sitting up. ‘Well, I guess, uh…’ He stood up from the bed, barely glanced back at Matt. Tactfully rearranged himself and zipped up his jeans. ‘I guess I should let you go, you’re probably wanting to get home. Long day at the office, and all that.’

Matt looked out the window. It was almost dark already. He shivered, suddenly cold.

‘Unless you want something to eat first?’ John offered without any enthusiasm. ‘The restaurant here’s meant to be all right.’

‘No,’ said Matt. ‘No.’

John looked at him with misgivings that were plain even across the twilight of the room.

‘No. We can’t just part like this.’

‘Don’t make it harder than it needs to be, kid.’

‘If we part now, you’ll go back to New York, and Washington will seem like a really really long way away – and even if we meet up, it’ll seem like we’re still a long way away from each other – and getting together again would take so much effort, we’d have so much distance to cross. It would almost be impossible.’

John said quietly, ‘Maybe it is impossible, kid. Maybe it always was.’


‘When we started this, we were both making assumptions that were wrong. We each thought the other was gay, right? But the reality is we’re not.’

‘Well, I’ve already told you that I kinda am; half and half, maybe. And you sure seemed happy enough to go along with it! You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that. So maybe the reality is that we can be gay, with each other anyway.’

‘No, Matt.’ He was being excruciatingly gentle. ‘It doesn’t work that way.’

‘Who says?’ Matt demanded. ‘Who says that? Don’t we get to just figure it out for ourselves?’

‘I don’t know,’ said John. ‘I don’t know.’

Matt stopped and took a breath. I don’t know was an answer.

He let a few beats go by, and then he calmly suggested, ‘I’m just saying let’s keep our options open. If we part now, then we stand no chance. If we just hang out together for a while, then we can take our time figuring it out. And we’ll still be able to decide to be friends, to be lovers, whatever we want. You get what I’m saying? We can decide to part, if that ends up seeming right. But we’ll still have the other options, too, if we want them.’

‘Yeah,’ said John in a rough kind of voice. ‘I get it.’

Matt felt like collapsing, as if he’d just been fighting for his very life – but he didn’t dare collapse on John’s bed. Instead he hauled himself off the side of it, and tucked in his shirt, zipped up his suit pants, started feeding his belt through the loops. He was feeling damp and messy, but he didn’t really care. In fact, he was proud of it, and almost hoped it would be obvious what they’d been doing together.

‘Look,’ said Matt, ‘let’s just go grab a burger or something, yeah? I’m not in the mood for a restaurant. Then we could catch a movie. So we don’t have to talk.’

‘All right,’ John readily agreed, no doubt perfectly happy about the not talking bit.

‘All right,’ Matt replied, starting to feel confident again. He gave John his best dazzling smile.

John just shook his head. But not before Matt had glimpsed a sweet response in his eyes.

John went back to his hotel and Matt to his apartment alone that night. However, seeing as John had let Matt hold his hand for almost all of the movie, Matt’s confidence was building.

Nevertheless, Matt was quaking with nerves by six o’clock the next day. He hadn’t heard from John at all, and wasn’t sure he could face finding an empty bench outside headquarters.

But there John was, waiting in the same place with his enigmatic expression firmly fixed. Matt walked towards him, not bothering to hide his growing smile. Other bits of him were showing a definite interest, too.

‘Well,’ Matt said when he was finally standing there grinning down at the man. ‘I have to warn you. I am gonna need that bathtub full of ice if you’re expecting me not to jump you tonight.’

John’s mouth stretched into a smile, without him seeming too reluctant about it. ‘You won’t need the ice, kid.’

Yippee ki yay! Matt silently yelled.

‘But that’s just about the next hour, isn’t it? That’s easy to work out. It doesn’t say much about what happens after.’

Matt considered the man carefully, and wondered if he could start pushing his luck yet. John seemed quite comfortable, quite relaxed. John seemed to have done a lot of thinking that day, and perhaps he’d come up with the right answer. So maybe Matt could push just a little… ‘Oh,’ Matt lightly replied, ‘I’m thinking it says something about afterwards. I’m thinking it gives a hint.’

And John’s smile quirked. He stood up, and indicated the direction of his hotel with a tilt of his head. ‘Come on, then, Matt.’

‘Coming, ready or not!’ Matt burst out.

John shook his head in amusement. But then he quietly said, as they walked along side by side, ‘I’m ready.’

They got naked that night, and even though they didn’t do much more than they’d already done, even though they kept it simple, it still felt as if they were making love. Matt felt like he was whole again. Like he was doubled.

‘So, we’re not parting?’ Matt whispered as they held each other afterwards.

‘Not today,’ said John, his smile wry. It was almost midnight, so today wasn’t exactly an issue any more.

‘Not tomorrow, either,’ Matt asserted.

John kissed him gently. And then he whispered in Matt’s ear, ‘Maybe not ever.’

Matt grinned into the warm darkness that held them safe, and whispered a prayer, an order: ‘Make it so!’

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2 responses to “Not Today”

  1. avatar ceares says:

    there’s a tentative ‘delicacy’ about this I really like.

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