“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m very concerned.” He pointed to his face. “This is my concerned face.” He could tell Dex was trying very hard not to laugh. Sloane was a lot better at pulling it off.
“It looks a lot like your pissed-off face.”
Sloane shook his head. “The two are very different.”
“Really?” Dex’s eyes lit up with amusement. He sat back, stretched his legs out in front of him and laced his fingers over his flat stomach. “Because the two look the same to me.”
Sloane walked around him to take a seat on the edge of Dex’s desk beside him, one arm resting on his leg as he leaned forward. “I’ll make it easy for you. This face means you’ve done something that concerns me. While this face, accompanied by physical pain upon your person, means you’ve done something to piss me off. Face and no pain, equals concern. Face and pain, equals pissed off. Easy as that.”
“I really appreciate this. Is this part of the training?”
“Yep. You’ll find I can be a very nurturing partner if you do exactly as I say without question.”
Dex let out a snicker before sitting up and leaning forward, his grin wide. “Is that also your sex face?”
“I’m not touching that.” Sloane narrowed his eyes as Dex invaded his personal space. He was onto Dex, and there was no way Sloane was about to break first. There was nothing Dex could do to get under his skin.
“Will you at least poke it?”
Damn it. Sloane found himself laughing. “You’re an idiot.”
“Actually, I’m pretty smart.” Dex wheeled his chair an inch closer. “I like to lull my victims into a false sense of security.”
“And what exactly am I a victim of?”
Dex wriggled his eyebrows and Sloane braced himself. He clearly would never know what was going to happen with Dex. That thought was either very frightening or strangely entertaining. He still hadn’t figured out which.
“There’s one thing I need you to clarify,” Dex said.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
His partner gave a slow nod, his expression growing somber before he started rambling on about someone putting out Sloane’s fire. It sounded oddly like an old Eagles song. Wait…
“Are those song lyrics?” Sloane let out a groan and sat back. “That’s a song, isn’t it?”
Dex jumped to his feet as he sang and played invisible instruments around Sloane.
“Oh dear God, it gets worse.” Sloane let his head fall into his hand.
Dex’s earpiece flashed blue and Sloane watched in amusement as Dex tapped it. “You’ve reached the voice mail of Agent Dexter J. Daley. I’m away from my desk at the moment having hot monkey sex in the archive room with my partner Agent Sloane Brodie. Please leave a message after the snarl.”
“You son of a bitch.” Sloane jumped to his feet and made a swipe for him. Dex laughed and darted around to Sloane’s desk.
“Relax, it’s only the sarge.”
“What?” Sloane squawked.
Dex doubled over laughing. “Oh shit! You should see your face!”
“I’m going to kill you,” Sloane ground out through his teeth.
“I’m kidding, man. It’s my brother, and he’s on a private line.” Dex tapped his earpiece again. “What up, nerd?”
Sloane stormed over to his desk, pushing Dex out of his way so he could sit down. Dex laughed as he ambled to his own chair and dropped into it.
“Yep, I’m still alive,” Dex glanced over at Sloane with a grin. “But if looks could kill, it’d be a different story. I don’t know.” He checked his watch then glanced up at Sloane. “Depends on whether our Team Leader has some more training—”
“Get out.”