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    Summary

    They didn't actually agree on a time. They never do – Vos knows his shift patterns; Fox knows if he has an assignment, how long it takes him to get to the Guard from the Temple. Vos didn't say he'd come by tonight. It's been sixteen days, since he left, and neither of them are comfortable risking comm transmissions when he's working, and he does, more often than not, spend his first nights back in Fox's bed.

    Maybe he realised that. The significance of how much time he's been spending with Fox. Maybe he's decided it's gone far enough.

    Fox always wants to send him away. It's fucking stupid, what they're doing. He can nearly hear the lecture Jango would give every time he doesn't kick Vos out, every time he lets Vos curl close. But then Quinlan will make a content noise, or actually relax, or smile just at the corner of his eyes, and Fox's resolve will crumble to nothing.

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