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To be perfectly honest, Shiloh had spent almost zero time dwelling on the subject that was Ian, almost. It’s wasn’t that he wasn’t curious about the guy, or whether or not he’d actually show up, but truth be told, they’d only shared some pleasant conversation and, of course, a kiss. That wasn’t really enough information for his brain to process any sort of thoughts about the situation other than ‘let’s see what happens’.

He didn’t have a lot of experience in telling people off, however, and so he hadn’t gotten his hopes up about anything happening. He wasn’t sorry for what he had said and though he’d been surprised at his own tenacity, he’d say it again if he had to. He was used to invading other’s people’s space, the proverbial excited puppy, not the other way around and certainly never in that sort of context. Still, he didn’t know yet if what he had said meant that he’d turned Ian down, to the other hunter and to himself. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, and he’d been reluctant to let himself think about it. He’d never had the freedom to think about those sorts of things before.

Three days had passed and Shiloh hadn’t seen the hunter at all. There was a knock on the door, and he figured it would be Maebe or Quinn, and he called out to the visitor,

“Door’s unlocked!”

He was sprawled out on his bed in a shirt and his boxers, though admittedly the dark material could have passed easily for shorts. It’s not like those two hadn’t seen him in worse, anyway, and it was far too hot inside to even remotely think of adding more clothes. He was fanning himself with the Life Lab manual he was supposed to be reading, thinking it was also too hot for that.

The door opened, and hearing the nickname had Shiloh bolting up in surprise. He hadn’t expected it at all to be Ian. Shiloh dropped his book and scooted to the edge of the bed, snatching at his actual shorts. He shimmied them on as quickly as he could, hopping on one foot towards the door.

“Hey Ian, sorry, I forget not everyone I know has seen me sans pants,” he said apologetically, until he straightened up and it finally dawned on him was Ian was wearing. His own expression quickly changed to mirror Ian’s. He stared at him, and then broke out into laughter.

“Could say the same for you, you know. Does this mean we’re trading?”

He gestured at the shirt in Ian’s hands, grinning.

“Hey, it’s not like I’m completely naked,” he sulked. “Besides, it’s too hot in here for pants.”

It was true, without power, the dorms were far warmer than they usually were. The only condolence was that the sun didn’t bore through the ceiling as it did through the sky, and after having spent most of his time outside, whether on duty or off, Shiloh was ready for a day of reprieve. That, and he was pretty sure if he spent anymore time in the sun, his tan was going to turn into a burn so bad that his skin might very well fall off. He had no intentions of going anywhere outdoors in the immediate future and had been quite enjoying being uselessly curled up on his bed.

He ignored the first question, which he was sure would only get him into trouble. Instead, his gaze lifted from the shirt in Ian’s hand, to Ian, and he stared at the hunter pointedly.

“Because that one fits you so well.”

Shiloh perked up at the mention of a gift, and his eyes went wide at the chocolate bar sailing towards him. He caught it excitedly, grinning at Ian.

“Yes! This is excellent! it’s been like a month since I’ve had chocolate. You’re the best,” he laughed, tossing himself onto his bed and waving Ian to come in. “Thank-you.”

He appreciated the gesture, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the subject of ‘last time’ either. So he settled for smiling as he unwrapped the candy bar, snapping off a piece and offering it to Ian.

Shiloh frowned while he chewed the chocolate. Ian had ignored his offered spot on the bed and settled against the dresser, and Shiloh wasn’t entirely sure why. It’s not like he was the one who had problems controlling his instincts. Instincts that he reminded himself, were not there, no matter how well a tight fitting shirt conformed to Ian’s torso. But considering how well Ian had managed to control his during their last meeting, maybe it was for the best. Still, it cramped Shiloh’s attempts at being friendly and putting what had happened behind them.

Ian cleared his throat, and spoke first, Shiloh lifting his head to glance at him. Small talk, huh?

“’M fine,” Shiloh mumbled with his mouth half full, swallowing quickly before he continued. “Hot, as per usual. Really tempted to brave that ocean. You?”

Shiloh looked at the chocolate in his hand, and debated saving it for later. Chocolate wasn’t exactly a plentiful commodity on the island. But judging by the way the candy bar was quickly turning into a sweet gooey mess, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t last any long outside of his stomach.

“If it’s too hot for chocolate,” he said with laugh, both to himself and Ian’s mention of his outfit, “Then it’s definitely too hot too be fashionable.”

He finished the last of it then, watching Ian with a careful expression. The man seemed to be searching for words, and with a mouth full of chocolate, Shiloh had no way of helping him out. But after another moment of silence, it seemed that Ian found his voice, or at least, enough of it to begin getting to the point. Shiloh waited, patient only because of the chocolate he chewed on, wondering why Ian was apologizing.

The answer came slowly, and in parts, and Shiloh crocked his head to the side in confusion.

“You already apologized for that, and you gave me chocolate. You don’t need to keep saying sorry, I think it’s pretty clear I accept your apology,” he grinned, waving the empty candy bar wrapper.

“Well, the chocolate felt like it was too hot for chocolate, but I guess it wasn’t too hot for me to enjoy the chocolate.”

Shiloh was, admittedly, a bright sort of person, so it confused him when Ian’s expression failed to lighten. The man looked increasingly uncomfortable, and Shiloh was unsure what exactly was wrong, or if he had been the one to cause the problem. His face was serious as Ian explained his inability to make friends, but instead of making things clearer, the Mist hunter only made things foggier.

He was quiet for a minute, mulling over what Ian had said, but he failed to come to any logical conclusion. Shiloh had no problem making friends, and he never had. Even with people who hadn’t necessarily liked him, it had always seemed easier to exact revenge through kindness and hospitality, rather than turning nasty. He never really been nasty, even when provoked, at least, not until just before he’d come to the island. But the island had been a fresh slate, where he could forget the things he’d left behind, and where he could go back to being himself. His happiness might have been his own sort of shield, or a mask that he hid behind, but he was content that way, and everyone seemed to enjoy his upbeat personality.

Except for Ian.

His very personality seemed to puzzle Ian as much as Ian puzzled him.

“What does interested mean? Can’t you be interested in being someone’s friend? It’s not really that hard, we’re being friendly right now, aren’t we?”

He didn’t dare ask if Ian was interested in him, for a multitude of reasons.

“Oh,” was all Shiloh managed to squeak out at first.

It wasn’t that he was entirely innocent, he knew how things worked, and besides, he was a guy and it wasn’t exactly something that guys didn’t think about. He just had never been in this sort of position before, or ever really. Back home, it was the guys that approached the girls and he’d never been so inclined as to approach any of them beyond platonic means, and he’d certainly never considered approaching another guy, regardless of his preferences.

It was just the way things were. So he had had a vague inkling of what interested might mean, but to him, there was lots of things it could mean. It could mean dating, it could mean… Well, it could mean a lot of things, and the awkward turn their conversation had taken made it pretty clear what exactly Ian was interested in.

Shiloh’s cheeks turned the faintest shade of red, almost lost beneath his tan, and he scratched the back of his head. He looked up at Ian, trying to figure him out.

“We’re just hanging out, and talking. Is it that hard?