Fic: Going 'Round in Circles Part 1
Title: Going 'Round in Circles Part 1/2
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Blake/Jayden
Summary: A rainstorm, the electricity goes out, an argument, and why does Norman have all those weird German sex books?
Word Count: 4,670
Warnings/Rating: D/s, exploring themes of submission
Notes: Written for ravenspear 's prompt over at comment_fic; “ Author's choice; author's choice; rainstorm!sex.
Detective Matthew Blake died in the line of duty on April 12, 1974. Thirty-two years old. He was shot twice, in the left shoulder and upper left quadrant of his chest by a dealer in the Bronx, Samuel “Sammy” Bishop. Detective Blake was not assigned to be patrolling that area but offered his help to aid a sting that was understaffed. He was the only casualty. His wife accepted his medal and certificate posthumously. He has been married for fifteen years to Isabel Malcolm Blake and has a son with his her, Carter Blake. Thirteen years old.
It was raining on that day, too. Blake rubbed at his forehead. The officers had been wearing ponchos and holding a big gray umbrella over their paperwork when they came. It was nine-thirty because his mom had just come home, and she always caught the eight forty - five train. Since he had started middle school, she trusted him to be able to mind himself. He liked that feeling, knowing Mom trusted him to make his own snack and catch the trains all by himself. He had even bought his own metro card. Dad always made him call the station, though, and tell Pam, the dispatcher, that he was home from school. If he didn't, he would get a call from the station and a lecture with the possibility of a spanking.
His mom was in the kitchen making lasagna because they could eat it later in the week as leftovers. He was sitting at the table doing math problems and drawing in the margins.
“Watch the stove,” she had said and left to answer the door.
He remembered her screaming and crying, clutching him close and not understanding.
“But, when's Dad coming home? Mom? Mom, why are you crying? Mom?”
Carter hadn't thought about that day in a long time. He got out of his car and was drench by the rain. His coat clung heavily to his body
The small house in front of him looked cozy. Smoke was rising from the chimney and a few of the lights were on. It seemed to glow with a comfort that Blake couldn't seem to remember anymore. Abruptly, the door flung open, and Norman Jayden was standing there.
“Jesus! Carter, come in. It's pouring.” He waved his hands. “Hey!”
After the first step, the rest came easily, and he followed Jayden into his home.
*
“Are you hungry?” Jayden handed him a towel and started making coffee.
Blake's coat was hanging in the front room, and he toweled off his hair. “I never thought I'd be sitting in your kitchen and you would be making me coffee,” he mused.
“Hmm? I always figured you'd find a way to invade my personal life a lot faster than you have.”
“I'll take that as you think my intellect knows no bounds.”
“Take it however you want.” He toyed with one of the dials on the stove. “Are you hungry?” he repeated.
Blake made as if to say something, but his stomach growled ravenously.
Though he couldn't see the other man, Blake had a feeling that Jayden was grinning. “I was cooking chicken. Is that alright?” His voice gave no indication of whether or not he was laughing.
“Fine I guess.” He sighed. “Aren't you pissed off?”
“Why? Should I be?”
“I know that I would be.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
The silence stretched, and Blake fidgeted from the awkwardness. It had been too long since he had seen Jayden. Poking at him, just to get a reaction, wasn't as fun as he remembered it being.
“You look better.”
It was true as well. Jayden looked rested, happy even. The dark circles were gone from his eyes, he had color in his face and that gaunt look was gone. He was dressed in a heavy dark sweater and jeans. The green of his eyes was bright and playful.
“I needed some time to work it out.”
He grunted and took the cup of coffee Norman offered him. It tasted strong and chocolatey. “Did you make me a mocha?”
“Of course not.” He took a deep swallow. “I made myself a mocha coffee and shared with you.”
“Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm here.”
Irritated, Jayden set down his mug. “I know why you're here. The papers are on the counter. Although, I never would have pegged as someone willing to partner with the FBI. Got your eye on a promotion there, Blake?”
“Not me.” He stared into the dark contents of his own cup. “Perry does, though. There's a new commission they're creating between local PDs and FBI. He wants to head the first one.” Blake fell silent and Jayden waited for him to continue. With a shaky breath, he finally did, “They want you to serve as a consultant.”
“So you're here to convince me that it would be in my best interests to return all those phone calls?”
Blake wouldn't say it, but he didn't want to come. He admired what Norman had done. He had broke off, taken time to fix a problem that he had. Drugs took time, energy and, more often than not, money to kick. He'd kept up with the kid's file, had read up on the handful of times he'd ended up in the ER with the symptoms of withdrawal and had watched closely that he attended his DA meetings. After the hospital had given him the okay, he'd switched careers and now worked at a psychiatric hospital for children. Blake knew that he saw Shaun on a weekly basis. At least.
Perry had threatened him with suspension if he refused to come and try at all.
“More or less,” he muttered, looking down. “Listen, can I use your bathroom?”
Jayden looked up, puzzled that Blake hadn't risen to the challenge. “Sure. On the left, up the stairs.”*
He hadn't really needed to use the bathroom, but the brief respite had given him a chance to wash off his face and calm his nerves. He had forgotten how much fun it had been to talk to Jayden. The man never quite and always gave as good as he got. It was great, and he almost wished that he didn't have to be the one to try and sway him back into the FBI fold.
In the hallway, there was a large China cabinet that gave him pause. The glass had been removed, and it looked like Norman was using it like a bookshelf. An incredibly expensive one, but a bookshelf nonetheless. He tried to read the titles until he realized that most of them were in German. A small smile he couldn't stop broke out over his face as he imagined a much younger Norman slaving away over grammar rules and English to German dictionaries. It was adorable actually. He would have had longer, unruly hair and wide eyes without the knowledge that seemed to dull them.
He chuckled, trying to pick out familiar words in the titles. His eyes fell on a slim English volume entitled The Art of Submission, next to Finding A Worthy Master. They were all pretty similar from the look of it: Power and Surrender, Need and Want. Even the German was beginning to look less vague and more part of the pattern.
“There you are. I thought you'd gotten lost.”
“I just...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”
Jayden followed his gaze towards the books. He sighed. “No. You just didn't know that this was what you were going to find out. It's alright, Blake. If this makes you uncomfortable, you can always leave.” He looked up with a smirk and grinned at Blake's discomfort. “Come on. Let's go eat. I'll make you something stronger to drink this time. You look like you need it.”
Surprisingly, Jayden was very good at cooking and generous when it came to liquor. They sat down to eat and talked. Blake would occasionally try to bring up the topic of working for the commission, but Jayden would tactfully change the topic and not comment.
“It rains so much here!”
“Rains everywhere, Norm.”
Jayden shot him a look. “Not like this.”
“It rained a lot when I lived in New York, too.”
He looked curious now. “When were you in New York?”
“Grew up there. Moved down to Pennsylvania when I was thirteen.”
“Did you like it?”
“The move?” Jayden nodded. “Not really. It was just after my dad died.” He sighed heavily, not liking the look that Jayden gave him. It was somewhere between sympathy and something that made Blake feel extremely uncomfortable. “Don't do that please.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking away quickly. “Would it be rude of me to ask you how he died?”
“Yeah. Probably.” He leaned back and swallowed the vodka laden cocoa with gusto. “But it's okay. He was working in narcotics and got shot by a hopped up drug dealer. His product was laced with sort of alkaline poison. My mom decided that we should leave the city and go live with her sister.”
Jayden was a psychologist at heart. It was hard wired into him to assign character traits to people corresponding to events and reactions. So much was running through his mind at Blake's story. The anger and resentment, the bitterness in a man who didn't have much reason to be bitter or angry. It was just that he had so much practice at it. Too much. A twinge of regret went through him at that realization.
He wanted to say something clever and witty, sincere even, but he said, “I like you better with vodka.”
Blake laughed so hard tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “A lot of people would agree with you, pretty boy.” Their mutual silence became a lot more comfortable after that. “Can I ask you something? About those books upstairs?”
The tone of his question was sobering. Norman stilled, then stood and poured himself a glass of wine. “My mother was Italian,” he said by way of explanation. “I need something to drink if we're going to talk like this. What did you want to ask?”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't get you. Why are you even letting me in your home? You hate me.”
“We were under a lot of stress. It wasn't a good time in my life.” He sipped at his glass. “You got under my skin,” he smiled at the memory, “but I have a feeling that's not what you wanted to ask me.”
“Is that how you got into drugs? The BDSM stuff I mean?”
Jayden paused, thinking. “You were in that drug bust in '08. The one at Madame's, right?” Blake nodded. “Not every club is like that. And not everyone in the scene does lines of coke off of stranger's stomachs. I never have. I always got my tripto from the department. I saw too many junkies getting bad stuff. I got into drugs because of ARI.” After a beat, he added, “But it's probably tied in with the submission as well.”
“You're submissive?” he asked with a raised brow.
“I've always identified that way. Submission isn't about being in charge or not being in charge. It can be sexual but not always. I like it when someone I trust is in control. That's highly erotic for me. It can be a sexual situation, but it doesn't have to be.”
“Why you always follow the rules, isn't it?”
He shrugged. “I find it satisfying to follow the rules if I agree with them.”
“You didn't find it too convenient to listen to me.” There was a note of hurt in his statement that made Jayden uncomfortable.
“I don't know if you're aware of this, Lieutenant, but you don't always make the right choices. Even if you're are in control of the situation. I still disagree with how you handled the Origami Case. I understand better, now. I think. It was your case since the beginning. It's a long time to deal with something, and then I came in. New and uninitiated. That must have frustrated the hell out of you.” He grinned. “And I'm younger than you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean!”
“Nothing,” he said, smiling behind his wine glass.
Outside the storm was picking up. The cracking of electricity was in the air and the thunder was getting closer. The lights flickered, then went out.
“Carter?”
Automatically, he reached out and put his hand on Jayden's arm. “Right here. You got candles or something?”
“Yeah, just give me a sec.”
The warmth from underneath Blake's hand pulled away, and it was several moments before a lit candle was on the table. A flashlight also came out of a utility drawer, which Jayden set on the table.
“Conserve the battery.” They both stared at the window, watching the rain pour out of the sky in thick sheets, blowing back and forth in the window disrupted by the smattering of thunder and lightening. “I don't think it's such a good idea for you to drive in that.”
“All part of your plan there, Norm?”
“Not particularly.”
“You'd prefer me to be the one plotting instead?”
He made a small squeaking sound. “No! Jeez. Go away!”
Blake cleared his throat. “You want to clean this up or head upstairs or...”
“I'll deal with it tomorrow,” he said glancing down at the plates. “When I can see. I'm exhausted.”
He followed Jayden up the stairs, giving the bookcase another serious glance on the way.
“I don't have another bedroom. We can share, or you can take the coach downstairs.”
“Then why did you lead me up to your bedroom?” He waggled his brows, but the effect was lost in the dark. “Oh, fuck!”
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Like he was going to admit that he stubbed his toe because he was too distracted by kinky porn. Intellectual porn but still porn.
“I didn't think that you'd mind. I'm gonna change.” Blake felt Jayden's gaze on him. “I'll look to see if I have something that will fit you.” His sigh at the end was not encouraging.
What he could make out of Jayden's bedroom from the glow of the flashlight that escaped the bathroom was cozy, comfortable and very lonely. Jayden obviously slept on the right side because there was nothing else on the other side of the bed. No table or rug and the pillows looked completely untouched. Jayden's side was cluttered with papers and books, a pair of glasses and a half eaten package of oreos. He made a note of dark jeans and a crisp white shirt, folded neatly and placed on the dresser.
The bathroom was off to the side and the flashlight reflected on the tile. Jayden's voice made him look up. “I have some sweats that are big on me.”
“That supposed to mean something FBI?”
“Not particularly.” He emerged from the bathroom wearing boxers and a t-shirt. “Here, hold this. I'll go find them.”
Blake took the flashlight and loosened his tie before pulling it off. He toyed with the flashlight for a while, switching it off, moving the light around until Norman turned around, hands on his hips and growled, “If you don't knock it the fuck off you can go sleep downstairs in your cold wet clothes. Stop it!”
Feeling mildly successful at getting a rise out of him, Blake settled down. It felt incredibly private to be sitting on the other man's bed. This was Jayden's bedroom, his home, where he did all that kinky shit he read about.
“You're being really nice to me. You know, considering.”
“Considering that you're a psychopathic asshole?”
“Something like that.” He swallowed, as Norman knelt down to search through the bottom shelf. “Any particular reason you're being so hospitable?”
“Found them.” He stood and stretched, several pones popping as he did so. “Not really. I don't have you, Blake. You irritate me, but that's all.”
“Sure it's not my incredibly sexy physique and rugged demeanor that isn't getting the better of you?”
“It doesn't hurt.”
Blake colored and heat rose up his neck. “I'll go change.” He shut the bathroom door but could still hear Jayden laughing at him behind it. “Shut up,” he said emerging.
Jayden shrugged and offered him the blanket. “You're an attractive man. Don't deny it.” His teeth seemed to glitter. “And it makes you uncomfortable when I say it. It's a bonus.”
“You're really fucking annoying.”
“Perry called me this morning.” Blake tensed and stopped lifting the covers. “He said that you were coming and that he suspected that you were going to be a jerk about it. He didn't want me to feel pressured. In fact, if I chose to go work for him he'd make sure that you would never have any contact with me again.”
“That so?”
“I told him that you weren't as bad as he was.” He chuckled. “At least you're upfront about what you do and don't expect. Get in. You're letting in a draft.”
Blake felt unexpectedly touched by that. “Thanks.”
“It was the truth.” He turned to face Blake. “Now why did you really come to see me?”
He debated not saying anything, just closing his mouth and rolling over to sleep. “I saw you at the hospital.”
“Oh.” Jayden pulled away. “You were watching me?”
“I kept tabs. I didn't tell anyone. I was...impressed. Not every junkie checks into rehab and stays on their own.”
“It's just weird.” He curled up into himself. “I didn't know you were always there. Watching me. It's a bit obsessive, you know?”
Blake knew that. It was beyond obsessive. He made himself nervous.
“Everyone was talking about you leaving the FBI. It was all over the office. Curiosity got the better of me.”
Blake could feel the tension radiating off Jayden in waves. He abruptly sat up and glared down at Blake.
“I'm not a social experiment! I know I shouldn't have ever thought you'd respect my privacy, but I thought that working together personalizes things a little! Well, fuck me was I wrong.”
“It's not like that!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I was...I didn't want you to do something stupid. You didn't even get a sponsor. What kind of idiot junkie doesn't get a sponsor?”
There was a long pause. Jayden sat against the headboard, his knees under his chin. Blakes eyes were finally adjusting to the light. He could see that Jayden had wrapped his arms around his knees and pillowed his head in the crooks of his arms.
“You weren't an experiment.”
His laugh was hollow. “Was the great Carter Blake worried about me?”
“A little,” he conceded, and his voice was shockingly soft, coaxing almost. It was as if he was trying to sooth a small animal. “I didn't tell anyone. I found out on my own, and I kept it to myself.”
That was the truth. He had found out the name of the hospital, the rehab center, Jayden's new address and drove out every month to make sure that he was taking care of himself. The house was always in order. There was even that time Jayden didn't come home until past ten. Carter sat in his car, antsy, until he finally pulled up. He had looked exhausted but was carrying a bag full of work not recreation. After that night, he stayed away. The feeling of relief that had overwhelmed him when he saw Jayden walk up the drive and unlock the front door, finally coming home, had confused him. He didn't like to analyze his feelings when they were as complicated as that.
“I promise. No one else knew anything.”
“Perry found out.”
“He called the FBI. I can't tell them what to do.”
Jayden fell silent, pouting. “I'm sorry I raised my voice at you. It's just a lot to take in.”
The soft apology was out of sorts with what Blake was used to. Like usual, it made Blake more curious than angry. Except now, he had permission to ask when before he was only permitted to respond with anger.
“It's alright. I owe you a couple of those apologies, too.” He sat up, too. “Norman, were you angry because I'm the one who came to try and convince you to work with the commission? Or, is it something else?”
“You mean am I still angry with you?”
“I-”
“No,” he said slowly. “You want to know if I respond to you.” Blake was silent. “Well, shit. Really?”
“It's not that odd a question.”
“No. But it is pretty forthright.”
Jayden shook his head. “And if I say yes? Then what? We fuck right here, and you magically know everything that I like, what I want, what turns me on? You don't even know if I like men or not.”
“You like men.”
“That's not the point.”
Lightning illuminated the room in a series of bright bursts followed by a loud boom.
“Fuck.”
“Scared of lightning, kid?”
“Shut up! Why aren't you asleep anyway?” Jayden scooted up on the mattress and tugged the covers up to his chin. “You had three beers, and you're exhausted!”
Blake paused, smirking to himself and considering the other man. “What do you normally during a storm like this?” He was genuinely curious. Maybe this irrational fear of storms was why people had always described him as perpetually exhausted.
“Carter, please be quiet. I'm tired.”
He looked Jayden up and down. It didn't look like he was anywhere near close to sleep.
“What is it? One in the morning? Two maybe? You don't look like you're going to sleep.” He toyed with what little blanket Jayden had let him keep. Wisely, he chose not to comment on it. “Doesn't it help to talk about this kind of shit?”
Jayden sighed and put his hands over his eyes in surrender. “Jesus! Did you take any psychology in school? It doesn't help to make people talk about things they don't want to! Talking about trauma won't help unless the patient wants to talk about it.” He seemed to calm down a little and got more comfortable, laying down and wrapped in the blanket. “Do you really want to know?”
He shrugged. “It might pass the time.”
The storm rumbled outside, a dull sound like a tired beast. Jayden unconsciously pressed his thigh against Carter's.
“My grandpa'ents had a cottage in the mountains. I'd go the'e every summa',” he cleared his throat, nervously glancing out the window. “Sorry, comes out when I get ne'vous. I've been trying...” he trailed off, and Carter motioned for him to keep talking.
“There was this storm one night. My gran was in my room - we were playing some game. I don't remember, charades I think, waiting for Grandpa to come back from the dock. It wasn't even a big dock. Five boats I think. All retired couples, and this one college age guy who did all the maintenance for the tech on board. A tree came down nearby and broke through the front door. We were in the basement because that's where we were supposed to be. The storm kept howling and I was terrified.”
He broke off. At some point while he was talking, he had intertwined his fingers with Carter's and leaned against his shoulder, still hogging the blanket Carter noted.
“The cottage was in shambles. Grandad had gotten hurt by falling debris on his way back. He was in the hospital for a long time, he caught pneumonia and died a couple weeks later. I never...I didn't like it. I was seven and scared. It still scares me. Now, I try not to be alone when there's a storm.”
Carter thought about the clothes he saw earlier. “You were going out tonight.”
“I had a date tonight.”
“Boyfriend?”
Jayden laughed. “Nothing like that. A friend I scene with occasionally.”
Carter shook his head. How the fuck you had regular sex with someone and didn't get a little attached was lost on him.
“If you start to think about it that hard, you'll never be able to go to sleep.”
“It's just...not normal.”
“Maybe not, but it helps me. I don't need your approval.”
He looked up at the note of hurt evident in Jayden's voice and felt a surge of protectiveness at the sleepy, frightened look in his eyes. In that moment, he saw a vulnerability in Jayden that he had never seen before.
“Come here.” He pulled Jayden's blanket wrapped form against his chest. “Sleep now.”
Despite himself, Norman snuggled into his chest. Carter smelled warm and spicy, like toothpaste and aftershave. Beer somewhere in the mix.
“You'll stay?” he asked tiredly.
Blake cleared his throat. “Be quiet and close your eyes.”*“I'm fine, Cole. Yes. I promise. No I - ah - had a friend stay over.” There was silence for a moment. “Yes. Of course. Take care. You, too.” There was the sound of the phone being set on the cradle.
“I know you're listening. Get up. I washed your clothes and there's breakfast.”
Detective Blake opened one eye and checked his watch. Seven -fifteen. The time seemed to mock him. Groggily, he stumbled out of bed and showered with Jayden's fruity shampoo. Grumbling the whole while, he dressed and went through the motions.
He sniffed at his clothes, the lilac out of place with what he was used to. A scent he couldn't describe as anything except familiar. Although, this smell wasn't unpleasant. He was contemplating a shave he definitely needed when he crossed into the kitchen.
“Bacon alright?”
“Are we married now?” He shot back and then did a double take.
Norman was dressed up. His jeans were tight on his ass and thighs, and the shirt from the night before looked even better hanging off his shoulders.
“You going somewhere?”
Jayden blushed and turned to spoon eggs and bacon from the stove onto two plate. He added toast and gestured to the table, where they had dinner the night before.
“I guess I owe you lunch.”
“Dinner would be more appropriate.”
He laughed and dug in. “Yeah. Dinner sounds fair.”
“You weren't that difficult to convince.”
They ate together in an awkward silence that made Jayden fidget, and Blake resolutely chose not to say anything.
“What are you going to tell Perry?”
“That you didn't want to come work for the commission. I don't see the problem. You want me to tell him something else?”
“That's fine.” He paused, then set down his fork. “Carter?”
“Hmm? What?”
“Do you have plans for next Tuesday?”
“No. I usually have Wednesdays off.” He looked up. “What are you getting at?”
“I'd like to take you with me to see Master Cole.”
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Blake/Jayden
Summary: A rainstorm, the electricity goes out, an argument, and why does Norman have all those weird German sex books?
Word Count: 4,670
Warnings/Rating: D/s, exploring themes of submission
Notes: Written for ravenspear 's prompt over at comment_fic; “ Author's choice; author's choice; rainstorm!sex.
Detective Matthew Blake died in the line of duty on April 12, 1974. Thirty-two years old. He was shot twice, in the left shoulder and upper left quadrant of his chest by a dealer in the Bronx, Samuel “Sammy” Bishop. Detective Blake was not assigned to be patrolling that area but offered his help to aid a sting that was understaffed. He was the only casualty. His wife accepted his medal and certificate posthumously. He has been married for fifteen years to Isabel Malcolm Blake and has a son with his her, Carter Blake. Thirteen years old.
It was raining on that day, too. Blake rubbed at his forehead. The officers had been wearing ponchos and holding a big gray umbrella over their paperwork when they came. It was nine-thirty because his mom had just come home, and she always caught the eight forty - five train. Since he had started middle school, she trusted him to be able to mind himself. He liked that feeling, knowing Mom trusted him to make his own snack and catch the trains all by himself. He had even bought his own metro card. Dad always made him call the station, though, and tell Pam, the dispatcher, that he was home from school. If he didn't, he would get a call from the station and a lecture with the possibility of a spanking.
His mom was in the kitchen making lasagna because they could eat it later in the week as leftovers. He was sitting at the table doing math problems and drawing in the margins.
“Watch the stove,” she had said and left to answer the door.
He remembered her screaming and crying, clutching him close and not understanding.
“But, when's Dad coming home? Mom? Mom, why are you crying? Mom?”
Carter hadn't thought about that day in a long time. He got out of his car and was drench by the rain. His coat clung heavily to his body
The small house in front of him looked cozy. Smoke was rising from the chimney and a few of the lights were on. It seemed to glow with a comfort that Blake couldn't seem to remember anymore. Abruptly, the door flung open, and Norman Jayden was standing there.
“Jesus! Carter, come in. It's pouring.” He waved his hands. “Hey!”
After the first step, the rest came easily, and he followed Jayden into his home.
*
“Are you hungry?” Jayden handed him a towel and started making coffee.
Blake's coat was hanging in the front room, and he toweled off his hair. “I never thought I'd be sitting in your kitchen and you would be making me coffee,” he mused.
“Hmm? I always figured you'd find a way to invade my personal life a lot faster than you have.”
“I'll take that as you think my intellect knows no bounds.”
“Take it however you want.” He toyed with one of the dials on the stove. “Are you hungry?” he repeated.
Blake made as if to say something, but his stomach growled ravenously.
Though he couldn't see the other man, Blake had a feeling that Jayden was grinning. “I was cooking chicken. Is that alright?” His voice gave no indication of whether or not he was laughing.
“Fine I guess.” He sighed. “Aren't you pissed off?”
“Why? Should I be?”
“I know that I would be.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
The silence stretched, and Blake fidgeted from the awkwardness. It had been too long since he had seen Jayden. Poking at him, just to get a reaction, wasn't as fun as he remembered it being.
“You look better.”
It was true as well. Jayden looked rested, happy even. The dark circles were gone from his eyes, he had color in his face and that gaunt look was gone. He was dressed in a heavy dark sweater and jeans. The green of his eyes was bright and playful.
“I needed some time to work it out.”
He grunted and took the cup of coffee Norman offered him. It tasted strong and chocolatey. “Did you make me a mocha?”
“Of course not.” He took a deep swallow. “I made myself a mocha coffee and shared with you.”
“Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm here.”
Irritated, Jayden set down his mug. “I know why you're here. The papers are on the counter. Although, I never would have pegged as someone willing to partner with the FBI. Got your eye on a promotion there, Blake?”
“Not me.” He stared into the dark contents of his own cup. “Perry does, though. There's a new commission they're creating between local PDs and FBI. He wants to head the first one.” Blake fell silent and Jayden waited for him to continue. With a shaky breath, he finally did, “They want you to serve as a consultant.”
“So you're here to convince me that it would be in my best interests to return all those phone calls?”
Blake wouldn't say it, but he didn't want to come. He admired what Norman had done. He had broke off, taken time to fix a problem that he had. Drugs took time, energy and, more often than not, money to kick. He'd kept up with the kid's file, had read up on the handful of times he'd ended up in the ER with the symptoms of withdrawal and had watched closely that he attended his DA meetings. After the hospital had given him the okay, he'd switched careers and now worked at a psychiatric hospital for children. Blake knew that he saw Shaun on a weekly basis. At least.
Perry had threatened him with suspension if he refused to come and try at all.
“More or less,” he muttered, looking down. “Listen, can I use your bathroom?”
Jayden looked up, puzzled that Blake hadn't risen to the challenge. “Sure. On the left, up the stairs.”*
He hadn't really needed to use the bathroom, but the brief respite had given him a chance to wash off his face and calm his nerves. He had forgotten how much fun it had been to talk to Jayden. The man never quite and always gave as good as he got. It was great, and he almost wished that he didn't have to be the one to try and sway him back into the FBI fold.
In the hallway, there was a large China cabinet that gave him pause. The glass had been removed, and it looked like Norman was using it like a bookshelf. An incredibly expensive one, but a bookshelf nonetheless. He tried to read the titles until he realized that most of them were in German. A small smile he couldn't stop broke out over his face as he imagined a much younger Norman slaving away over grammar rules and English to German dictionaries. It was adorable actually. He would have had longer, unruly hair and wide eyes without the knowledge that seemed to dull them.
He chuckled, trying to pick out familiar words in the titles. His eyes fell on a slim English volume entitled The Art of Submission, next to Finding A Worthy Master. They were all pretty similar from the look of it: Power and Surrender, Need and Want. Even the German was beginning to look less vague and more part of the pattern.
“There you are. I thought you'd gotten lost.”
“I just...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”
Jayden followed his gaze towards the books. He sighed. “No. You just didn't know that this was what you were going to find out. It's alright, Blake. If this makes you uncomfortable, you can always leave.” He looked up with a smirk and grinned at Blake's discomfort. “Come on. Let's go eat. I'll make you something stronger to drink this time. You look like you need it.”
Surprisingly, Jayden was very good at cooking and generous when it came to liquor. They sat down to eat and talked. Blake would occasionally try to bring up the topic of working for the commission, but Jayden would tactfully change the topic and not comment.
“It rains so much here!”
“Rains everywhere, Norm.”
Jayden shot him a look. “Not like this.”
“It rained a lot when I lived in New York, too.”
He looked curious now. “When were you in New York?”
“Grew up there. Moved down to Pennsylvania when I was thirteen.”
“Did you like it?”
“The move?” Jayden nodded. “Not really. It was just after my dad died.” He sighed heavily, not liking the look that Jayden gave him. It was somewhere between sympathy and something that made Blake feel extremely uncomfortable. “Don't do that please.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking away quickly. “Would it be rude of me to ask you how he died?”
“Yeah. Probably.” He leaned back and swallowed the vodka laden cocoa with gusto. “But it's okay. He was working in narcotics and got shot by a hopped up drug dealer. His product was laced with sort of alkaline poison. My mom decided that we should leave the city and go live with her sister.”
Jayden was a psychologist at heart. It was hard wired into him to assign character traits to people corresponding to events and reactions. So much was running through his mind at Blake's story. The anger and resentment, the bitterness in a man who didn't have much reason to be bitter or angry. It was just that he had so much practice at it. Too much. A twinge of regret went through him at that realization.
He wanted to say something clever and witty, sincere even, but he said, “I like you better with vodka.”
Blake laughed so hard tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “A lot of people would agree with you, pretty boy.” Their mutual silence became a lot more comfortable after that. “Can I ask you something? About those books upstairs?”
The tone of his question was sobering. Norman stilled, then stood and poured himself a glass of wine. “My mother was Italian,” he said by way of explanation. “I need something to drink if we're going to talk like this. What did you want to ask?”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't get you. Why are you even letting me in your home? You hate me.”
“We were under a lot of stress. It wasn't a good time in my life.” He sipped at his glass. “You got under my skin,” he smiled at the memory, “but I have a feeling that's not what you wanted to ask me.”
“Is that how you got into drugs? The BDSM stuff I mean?”
Jayden paused, thinking. “You were in that drug bust in '08. The one at Madame's, right?” Blake nodded. “Not every club is like that. And not everyone in the scene does lines of coke off of stranger's stomachs. I never have. I always got my tripto from the department. I saw too many junkies getting bad stuff. I got into drugs because of ARI.” After a beat, he added, “But it's probably tied in with the submission as well.”
“You're submissive?” he asked with a raised brow.
“I've always identified that way. Submission isn't about being in charge or not being in charge. It can be sexual but not always. I like it when someone I trust is in control. That's highly erotic for me. It can be a sexual situation, but it doesn't have to be.”
“Why you always follow the rules, isn't it?”
He shrugged. “I find it satisfying to follow the rules if I agree with them.”
“You didn't find it too convenient to listen to me.” There was a note of hurt in his statement that made Jayden uncomfortable.
“I don't know if you're aware of this, Lieutenant, but you don't always make the right choices. Even if you're are in control of the situation. I still disagree with how you handled the Origami Case. I understand better, now. I think. It was your case since the beginning. It's a long time to deal with something, and then I came in. New and uninitiated. That must have frustrated the hell out of you.” He grinned. “And I'm younger than you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean!”
“Nothing,” he said, smiling behind his wine glass.
Outside the storm was picking up. The cracking of electricity was in the air and the thunder was getting closer. The lights flickered, then went out.
“Carter?”
Automatically, he reached out and put his hand on Jayden's arm. “Right here. You got candles or something?”
“Yeah, just give me a sec.”
The warmth from underneath Blake's hand pulled away, and it was several moments before a lit candle was on the table. A flashlight also came out of a utility drawer, which Jayden set on the table.
“Conserve the battery.” They both stared at the window, watching the rain pour out of the sky in thick sheets, blowing back and forth in the window disrupted by the smattering of thunder and lightening. “I don't think it's such a good idea for you to drive in that.”
“All part of your plan there, Norm?”
“Not particularly.”
“You'd prefer me to be the one plotting instead?”
He made a small squeaking sound. “No! Jeez. Go away!”
Blake cleared his throat. “You want to clean this up or head upstairs or...”
“I'll deal with it tomorrow,” he said glancing down at the plates. “When I can see. I'm exhausted.”
He followed Jayden up the stairs, giving the bookcase another serious glance on the way.
“I don't have another bedroom. We can share, or you can take the coach downstairs.”
“Then why did you lead me up to your bedroom?” He waggled his brows, but the effect was lost in the dark. “Oh, fuck!”
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Like he was going to admit that he stubbed his toe because he was too distracted by kinky porn. Intellectual porn but still porn.
“I didn't think that you'd mind. I'm gonna change.” Blake felt Jayden's gaze on him. “I'll look to see if I have something that will fit you.” His sigh at the end was not encouraging.
What he could make out of Jayden's bedroom from the glow of the flashlight that escaped the bathroom was cozy, comfortable and very lonely. Jayden obviously slept on the right side because there was nothing else on the other side of the bed. No table or rug and the pillows looked completely untouched. Jayden's side was cluttered with papers and books, a pair of glasses and a half eaten package of oreos. He made a note of dark jeans and a crisp white shirt, folded neatly and placed on the dresser.
The bathroom was off to the side and the flashlight reflected on the tile. Jayden's voice made him look up. “I have some sweats that are big on me.”
“That supposed to mean something FBI?”
“Not particularly.” He emerged from the bathroom wearing boxers and a t-shirt. “Here, hold this. I'll go find them.”
Blake took the flashlight and loosened his tie before pulling it off. He toyed with the flashlight for a while, switching it off, moving the light around until Norman turned around, hands on his hips and growled, “If you don't knock it the fuck off you can go sleep downstairs in your cold wet clothes. Stop it!”
Feeling mildly successful at getting a rise out of him, Blake settled down. It felt incredibly private to be sitting on the other man's bed. This was Jayden's bedroom, his home, where he did all that kinky shit he read about.
“You're being really nice to me. You know, considering.”
“Considering that you're a psychopathic asshole?”
“Something like that.” He swallowed, as Norman knelt down to search through the bottom shelf. “Any particular reason you're being so hospitable?”
“Found them.” He stood and stretched, several pones popping as he did so. “Not really. I don't have you, Blake. You irritate me, but that's all.”
“Sure it's not my incredibly sexy physique and rugged demeanor that isn't getting the better of you?”
“It doesn't hurt.”
Blake colored and heat rose up his neck. “I'll go change.” He shut the bathroom door but could still hear Jayden laughing at him behind it. “Shut up,” he said emerging.
Jayden shrugged and offered him the blanket. “You're an attractive man. Don't deny it.” His teeth seemed to glitter. “And it makes you uncomfortable when I say it. It's a bonus.”
“You're really fucking annoying.”
“Perry called me this morning.” Blake tensed and stopped lifting the covers. “He said that you were coming and that he suspected that you were going to be a jerk about it. He didn't want me to feel pressured. In fact, if I chose to go work for him he'd make sure that you would never have any contact with me again.”
“That so?”
“I told him that you weren't as bad as he was.” He chuckled. “At least you're upfront about what you do and don't expect. Get in. You're letting in a draft.”
Blake felt unexpectedly touched by that. “Thanks.”
“It was the truth.” He turned to face Blake. “Now why did you really come to see me?”
He debated not saying anything, just closing his mouth and rolling over to sleep. “I saw you at the hospital.”
“Oh.” Jayden pulled away. “You were watching me?”
“I kept tabs. I didn't tell anyone. I was...impressed. Not every junkie checks into rehab and stays on their own.”
“It's just weird.” He curled up into himself. “I didn't know you were always there. Watching me. It's a bit obsessive, you know?”
Blake knew that. It was beyond obsessive. He made himself nervous.
“Everyone was talking about you leaving the FBI. It was all over the office. Curiosity got the better of me.”
Blake could feel the tension radiating off Jayden in waves. He abruptly sat up and glared down at Blake.
“I'm not a social experiment! I know I shouldn't have ever thought you'd respect my privacy, but I thought that working together personalizes things a little! Well, fuck me was I wrong.”
“It's not like that!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I was...I didn't want you to do something stupid. You didn't even get a sponsor. What kind of idiot junkie doesn't get a sponsor?”
There was a long pause. Jayden sat against the headboard, his knees under his chin. Blakes eyes were finally adjusting to the light. He could see that Jayden had wrapped his arms around his knees and pillowed his head in the crooks of his arms.
“You weren't an experiment.”
His laugh was hollow. “Was the great Carter Blake worried about me?”
“A little,” he conceded, and his voice was shockingly soft, coaxing almost. It was as if he was trying to sooth a small animal. “I didn't tell anyone. I found out on my own, and I kept it to myself.”
That was the truth. He had found out the name of the hospital, the rehab center, Jayden's new address and drove out every month to make sure that he was taking care of himself. The house was always in order. There was even that time Jayden didn't come home until past ten. Carter sat in his car, antsy, until he finally pulled up. He had looked exhausted but was carrying a bag full of work not recreation. After that night, he stayed away. The feeling of relief that had overwhelmed him when he saw Jayden walk up the drive and unlock the front door, finally coming home, had confused him. He didn't like to analyze his feelings when they were as complicated as that.
“I promise. No one else knew anything.”
“Perry found out.”
“He called the FBI. I can't tell them what to do.”
Jayden fell silent, pouting. “I'm sorry I raised my voice at you. It's just a lot to take in.”
The soft apology was out of sorts with what Blake was used to. Like usual, it made Blake more curious than angry. Except now, he had permission to ask when before he was only permitted to respond with anger.
“It's alright. I owe you a couple of those apologies, too.” He sat up, too. “Norman, were you angry because I'm the one who came to try and convince you to work with the commission? Or, is it something else?”
“You mean am I still angry with you?”
“I-”
“No,” he said slowly. “You want to know if I respond to you.” Blake was silent. “Well, shit. Really?”
“It's not that odd a question.”
“No. But it is pretty forthright.”
Jayden shook his head. “And if I say yes? Then what? We fuck right here, and you magically know everything that I like, what I want, what turns me on? You don't even know if I like men or not.”
“You like men.”
“That's not the point.”
Lightning illuminated the room in a series of bright bursts followed by a loud boom.
“Fuck.”
“Scared of lightning, kid?”
“Shut up! Why aren't you asleep anyway?” Jayden scooted up on the mattress and tugged the covers up to his chin. “You had three beers, and you're exhausted!”
Blake paused, smirking to himself and considering the other man. “What do you normally during a storm like this?” He was genuinely curious. Maybe this irrational fear of storms was why people had always described him as perpetually exhausted.
“Carter, please be quiet. I'm tired.”
He looked Jayden up and down. It didn't look like he was anywhere near close to sleep.
“What is it? One in the morning? Two maybe? You don't look like you're going to sleep.” He toyed with what little blanket Jayden had let him keep. Wisely, he chose not to comment on it. “Doesn't it help to talk about this kind of shit?”
Jayden sighed and put his hands over his eyes in surrender. “Jesus! Did you take any psychology in school? It doesn't help to make people talk about things they don't want to! Talking about trauma won't help unless the patient wants to talk about it.” He seemed to calm down a little and got more comfortable, laying down and wrapped in the blanket. “Do you really want to know?”
He shrugged. “It might pass the time.”
The storm rumbled outside, a dull sound like a tired beast. Jayden unconsciously pressed his thigh against Carter's.
“My grandpa'ents had a cottage in the mountains. I'd go the'e every summa',” he cleared his throat, nervously glancing out the window. “Sorry, comes out when I get ne'vous. I've been trying...” he trailed off, and Carter motioned for him to keep talking.
“There was this storm one night. My gran was in my room - we were playing some game. I don't remember, charades I think, waiting for Grandpa to come back from the dock. It wasn't even a big dock. Five boats I think. All retired couples, and this one college age guy who did all the maintenance for the tech on board. A tree came down nearby and broke through the front door. We were in the basement because that's where we were supposed to be. The storm kept howling and I was terrified.”
He broke off. At some point while he was talking, he had intertwined his fingers with Carter's and leaned against his shoulder, still hogging the blanket Carter noted.
“The cottage was in shambles. Grandad had gotten hurt by falling debris on his way back. He was in the hospital for a long time, he caught pneumonia and died a couple weeks later. I never...I didn't like it. I was seven and scared. It still scares me. Now, I try not to be alone when there's a storm.”
Carter thought about the clothes he saw earlier. “You were going out tonight.”
“I had a date tonight.”
“Boyfriend?”
Jayden laughed. “Nothing like that. A friend I scene with occasionally.”
Carter shook his head. How the fuck you had regular sex with someone and didn't get a little attached was lost on him.
“If you start to think about it that hard, you'll never be able to go to sleep.”
“It's just...not normal.”
“Maybe not, but it helps me. I don't need your approval.”
He looked up at the note of hurt evident in Jayden's voice and felt a surge of protectiveness at the sleepy, frightened look in his eyes. In that moment, he saw a vulnerability in Jayden that he had never seen before.
“Come here.” He pulled Jayden's blanket wrapped form against his chest. “Sleep now.”
Despite himself, Norman snuggled into his chest. Carter smelled warm and spicy, like toothpaste and aftershave. Beer somewhere in the mix.
“You'll stay?” he asked tiredly.
Blake cleared his throat. “Be quiet and close your eyes.”*“I'm fine, Cole. Yes. I promise. No I - ah - had a friend stay over.” There was silence for a moment. “Yes. Of course. Take care. You, too.” There was the sound of the phone being set on the cradle.
“I know you're listening. Get up. I washed your clothes and there's breakfast.”
Detective Blake opened one eye and checked his watch. Seven -fifteen. The time seemed to mock him. Groggily, he stumbled out of bed and showered with Jayden's fruity shampoo. Grumbling the whole while, he dressed and went through the motions.
He sniffed at his clothes, the lilac out of place with what he was used to. A scent he couldn't describe as anything except familiar. Although, this smell wasn't unpleasant. He was contemplating a shave he definitely needed when he crossed into the kitchen.
“Bacon alright?”
“Are we married now?” He shot back and then did a double take.
Norman was dressed up. His jeans were tight on his ass and thighs, and the shirt from the night before looked even better hanging off his shoulders.
“You going somewhere?”
Jayden blushed and turned to spoon eggs and bacon from the stove onto two plate. He added toast and gestured to the table, where they had dinner the night before.
“I guess I owe you lunch.”
“Dinner would be more appropriate.”
He laughed and dug in. “Yeah. Dinner sounds fair.”
“You weren't that difficult to convince.”
They ate together in an awkward silence that made Jayden fidget, and Blake resolutely chose not to say anything.
“What are you going to tell Perry?”
“That you didn't want to come work for the commission. I don't see the problem. You want me to tell him something else?”
“That's fine.” He paused, then set down his fork. “Carter?”
“Hmm? What?”
“Do you have plans for next Tuesday?”
“No. I usually have Wednesdays off.” He looked up. “What are you getting at?”
“I'd like to take you with me to see Master Cole.”