In the Spotlight (Uraki/Zakary)
Title: In the Spotlight
Author: voiceofshadow
'Verse: What Goes Around (Original)
Claim: Uraki/Zakary
Rating: MMMMMM....
Warnings: Just some groping here and there.
Summary: Poor officer Zakary Steele has to follow his nemesis-- the insane killer he's been following for weeks-- to a night club in hopes of finally capturing him.
Table/Prompt: Slash/Femslash #7 Music
If my mother were alive today, she would be having a heart attack. Here was her precious little boy, standing in front of the creepiest night club in existence.
The club looked like a gothic castle-- fifteen feet, at least, of imposing granite brick, enormous stained-glass windows, and enough buttresses to make the entire thing look like it was encased in petrified spider webs.
“Hard to believe so many people are lined up to get inside this place,” my partner muttered, staring at the ever-growing mass of teenagers dressed in Lolita clothing.
Azrael is six feet of tanned Irish muscle, complete with the stereotypical mop of apple-red hair. His green eyes make anyone weak in the knees and his wife would probably kill the college student staring at him while running a finger down her pale chest.
We had exclusive rights to get into the club, if need be, but standing in line gave the opportunity to search the crowd for our criminal friend. Not to say I particularly wanted to find the guy. The last time I tried to arrest him, he had me pinned against a wall and his hand was down my pants faster than I could draw my gun. Not a pleasant report to fill out.
“Don’t worry,” Azrael said, patting my shoulder. “We’ll get him this time.” He nodded to the bouncer blocking our entrance to the club and the 300-pound mass of muscle shifted to the side so we could get through. As we passed, he shoved his bulky hand into his pocket and I saw a flash of crisp, green paper. My partner thought of everything.
Inside the club did nothing to lift my spirits. The darkness was overwhelming, and the black lights hanging from the stone ceiling offered little visibility. Flashing strobe lights on a stage in the back of the main room outlined the occupants’ motions in rapid chartreuse pulses, which was oddly comforting. I could see the tables sprawled about the room for the duration of each flash. “I can’t believe he picked here to meet,” I shouted over the booming music. If the bass were any louder, we’d be standing in a pile of Medieval rubble.
Azrael flashed a smile at me, a spot of white in the ultraviolet dark. “Oh calm down,” he replied. “Live a little!”
Living doesn’t usually require stepping into certain death, but hey, whatever. I returned Azrael’s smile with the cockiest grin I could manage and waded into the squirming mass. “Meet me back here in an hour,” I called over my shoulder. If we hadn’t found him by then, at least we could regroup and try a different approach.
The dance floor was a sea of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume. It was horrifyingly easy to get lost in the crowd of featureless people squirming in the dark, but colors were somewhat distinguishable now that I was in the thrall. Not to say they mattered, unless I felt like pressing charges against the girl trying to shove her barely-clothed chest into my face. I raised an eyebrow at her, shook my head, and she skittered away. If only all my problems were so easy to fix.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “You’re forgetting what you’re here for. Get off the floor and find a table, in a corner.”
The problem was, searching a crowd in a club is harder from a distance. So, I wandered, lost in my own thoughts, until someone grabbed me from behind.
“Detective,” he greeted, smoothly, letting the word wash over the back of my neck. “Or, are we on a first-name basis? Shall I call you Zakary?”
“Detective is fine,” I replied, calmly as possible. I refused to give this man any sort of leverage, refused to show any sign he had startled me. “I have some questions to ask you.”
“Always with the questions.” He dragged me out of the crowd by both arms and I stumbled backward, regrettably against his chest. “What on earth could you possibly want me to tell you?”
I snorted, still trying to act brave, though whether I was trying to fool him or myself wasn’t clear. “Let’s start with where you were Friday, when Mr. Yamaguchi was murdered.”
“Oh, is he dead?” He sounded surprised, but I knew better. “I am afraid I missed the news report. What time frame am I supposed to recount to you?”
I struggled out of his grasp and turned to face him, hands on my hips, palm rested unconsciously on my hidden gun. Of course, I couldn’t see him, dark as it was, which was probably the entire idea behind meeting in the club. “You know damn well what time frame. Quit toying with me.” Cat-and-Mouse had never been my strong point, and if I didn’t move this game somewhere more favorable, he would eat me alive. I glanced at the crowd, tempted to worm my way in and find Azrael, so we could both deal with this psychopath.
“I think we both know why you really followed the directions on my note.” His arms were around me again, hands drawing random patterns on my bare arms. “And it has nothing to do with Mr. Yamaguchi.”
Of course not. This man murdered more important people than one politician. He broke more laws in the tri-state area than any other criminal, simply by waking up in the morning.
Rational thought left me for just a moment when he clawed my chest. Blood pooled around the scratch, soaking into my shirt, gluing the charcoal fabric to my skin. He leaned over my shoulder, grinned and ran his tongue across his upper lip. “Do I scare you?” he asked, casually. “Would you prefer to move somewhere… less secluded?”
Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrists and headed to the dance floor. The crowd shifted to let us through and for the first time, I wondered how many of these high-strung drug addicts were under his control. Several dancers paused in their gyrations to leer at me, but no one moved any closer. The strobe light finally flashed, and I had a clear view of his face. It wasn’t long enough to notice any significant details, of course, but the brief lighting was enough to confirm this was, in fact, the man I was searching for. Only one person in the world had eyes that blue.
“Do you find me so attractive,” he hissed in my ear, “that you feel the need to stare?” He punctuated the question with his hips and I shifted uncomfortably. Another flash of light showed his grin, insanely wide and absurdly seductive.
“No. I was trying to determine if someone could pick you out of a line-up.”
He was so close to my face, there wasn’t any reason to shout over the music. Not that I would have shouted anyway; if he had to strain to hear what I was saying, oh well. I had every intention of bellowing his rights, for everyone to hear, of course. No way was he getting out on a liability.
“I sense you dislike me.”
“Try hate.”
His laughter was low, dark, and it went straight to my groin. “And you call me a pathological liar, Detective.”
“Good to know I amuse you.” I tilted my head back so I could pretend I was glaring at him. “Are you going to answer my previous question?”
Another flash of light, another grin. “No. I came to tell you something much more interesting.” He ran his fingers through his ebony hair and produced a folded piece of paper. “This is where I am going to be next Thursday.” His hand walked down my chest, leaving tiny goose bumps. “I do hope you will come. I would be delighted to see you.” Fingers slipped under the waistband of my jeans, shoved the paper into my briefs. Suddenly, it felt like the music had paused mid-note and the entire room was watching us, staring at me.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I muttered. “Am I allowed to bring friends?”
“Bring whomever you wish.” He licked the side of my mouth before pulling back and disappearing into the crowd. “I am certain they will enjoy the show.”
His absence was more draining than the rest of the encounter and I stumbled to a table and rested my head on my forearms. A corner of the note stabbed into my thigh, but there was no way I could make it to the bathroom, and I was certainly not going to pull it out in public.
Half an hour later, Azrael joined me at the table, two club sodas in his hands. “I didn’t have any luck,” he said, flopping into the chair beside me. “How about you?”
Luck was not the word I would use, so I shook my head. I could share everything about the night with my partner at work, after a long shower.
Azrael patted my shoulder. “We’ll get him,” he said, trying to be comforting.
Somehow, his statement made me feel worse than I thought possible.
Author: voiceofshadow
'Verse: What Goes Around (Original)
Claim: Uraki/Zakary
Rating: MMMMMM....
Warnings: Just some groping here and there.
Summary: Poor officer Zakary Steele has to follow his nemesis-- the insane killer he's been following for weeks-- to a night club in hopes of finally capturing him.
Table/Prompt: Slash/Femslash #7 Music
If my mother were alive today, she would be having a heart attack. Here was her precious little boy, standing in front of the creepiest night club in existence.
The club looked like a gothic castle-- fifteen feet, at least, of imposing granite brick, enormous stained-glass windows, and enough buttresses to make the entire thing look like it was encased in petrified spider webs.
“Hard to believe so many people are lined up to get inside this place,” my partner muttered, staring at the ever-growing mass of teenagers dressed in Lolita clothing.
Azrael is six feet of tanned Irish muscle, complete with the stereotypical mop of apple-red hair. His green eyes make anyone weak in the knees and his wife would probably kill the college student staring at him while running a finger down her pale chest.
We had exclusive rights to get into the club, if need be, but standing in line gave the opportunity to search the crowd for our criminal friend. Not to say I particularly wanted to find the guy. The last time I tried to arrest him, he had me pinned against a wall and his hand was down my pants faster than I could draw my gun. Not a pleasant report to fill out.
“Don’t worry,” Azrael said, patting my shoulder. “We’ll get him this time.” He nodded to the bouncer blocking our entrance to the club and the 300-pound mass of muscle shifted to the side so we could get through. As we passed, he shoved his bulky hand into his pocket and I saw a flash of crisp, green paper. My partner thought of everything.
Inside the club did nothing to lift my spirits. The darkness was overwhelming, and the black lights hanging from the stone ceiling offered little visibility. Flashing strobe lights on a stage in the back of the main room outlined the occupants’ motions in rapid chartreuse pulses, which was oddly comforting. I could see the tables sprawled about the room for the duration of each flash. “I can’t believe he picked here to meet,” I shouted over the booming music. If the bass were any louder, we’d be standing in a pile of Medieval rubble.
Azrael flashed a smile at me, a spot of white in the ultraviolet dark. “Oh calm down,” he replied. “Live a little!”
Living doesn’t usually require stepping into certain death, but hey, whatever. I returned Azrael’s smile with the cockiest grin I could manage and waded into the squirming mass. “Meet me back here in an hour,” I called over my shoulder. If we hadn’t found him by then, at least we could regroup and try a different approach.
The dance floor was a sea of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume. It was horrifyingly easy to get lost in the crowd of featureless people squirming in the dark, but colors were somewhat distinguishable now that I was in the thrall. Not to say they mattered, unless I felt like pressing charges against the girl trying to shove her barely-clothed chest into my face. I raised an eyebrow at her, shook my head, and she skittered away. If only all my problems were so easy to fix.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “You’re forgetting what you’re here for. Get off the floor and find a table, in a corner.”
The problem was, searching a crowd in a club is harder from a distance. So, I wandered, lost in my own thoughts, until someone grabbed me from behind.
“Detective,” he greeted, smoothly, letting the word wash over the back of my neck. “Or, are we on a first-name basis? Shall I call you Zakary?”
“Detective is fine,” I replied, calmly as possible. I refused to give this man any sort of leverage, refused to show any sign he had startled me. “I have some questions to ask you.”
“Always with the questions.” He dragged me out of the crowd by both arms and I stumbled backward, regrettably against his chest. “What on earth could you possibly want me to tell you?”
I snorted, still trying to act brave, though whether I was trying to fool him or myself wasn’t clear. “Let’s start with where you were Friday, when Mr. Yamaguchi was murdered.”
“Oh, is he dead?” He sounded surprised, but I knew better. “I am afraid I missed the news report. What time frame am I supposed to recount to you?”
I struggled out of his grasp and turned to face him, hands on my hips, palm rested unconsciously on my hidden gun. Of course, I couldn’t see him, dark as it was, which was probably the entire idea behind meeting in the club. “You know damn well what time frame. Quit toying with me.” Cat-and-Mouse had never been my strong point, and if I didn’t move this game somewhere more favorable, he would eat me alive. I glanced at the crowd, tempted to worm my way in and find Azrael, so we could both deal with this psychopath.
“I think we both know why you really followed the directions on my note.” His arms were around me again, hands drawing random patterns on my bare arms. “And it has nothing to do with Mr. Yamaguchi.”
Of course not. This man murdered more important people than one politician. He broke more laws in the tri-state area than any other criminal, simply by waking up in the morning.
Rational thought left me for just a moment when he clawed my chest. Blood pooled around the scratch, soaking into my shirt, gluing the charcoal fabric to my skin. He leaned over my shoulder, grinned and ran his tongue across his upper lip. “Do I scare you?” he asked, casually. “Would you prefer to move somewhere… less secluded?”
Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrists and headed to the dance floor. The crowd shifted to let us through and for the first time, I wondered how many of these high-strung drug addicts were under his control. Several dancers paused in their gyrations to leer at me, but no one moved any closer. The strobe light finally flashed, and I had a clear view of his face. It wasn’t long enough to notice any significant details, of course, but the brief lighting was enough to confirm this was, in fact, the man I was searching for. Only one person in the world had eyes that blue.
“Do you find me so attractive,” he hissed in my ear, “that you feel the need to stare?” He punctuated the question with his hips and I shifted uncomfortably. Another flash of light showed his grin, insanely wide and absurdly seductive.
“No. I was trying to determine if someone could pick you out of a line-up.”
He was so close to my face, there wasn’t any reason to shout over the music. Not that I would have shouted anyway; if he had to strain to hear what I was saying, oh well. I had every intention of bellowing his rights, for everyone to hear, of course. No way was he getting out on a liability.
“I sense you dislike me.”
“Try hate.”
His laughter was low, dark, and it went straight to my groin. “And you call me a pathological liar, Detective.”
“Good to know I amuse you.” I tilted my head back so I could pretend I was glaring at him. “Are you going to answer my previous question?”
Another flash of light, another grin. “No. I came to tell you something much more interesting.” He ran his fingers through his ebony hair and produced a folded piece of paper. “This is where I am going to be next Thursday.” His hand walked down my chest, leaving tiny goose bumps. “I do hope you will come. I would be delighted to see you.” Fingers slipped under the waistband of my jeans, shoved the paper into my briefs. Suddenly, it felt like the music had paused mid-note and the entire room was watching us, staring at me.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I muttered. “Am I allowed to bring friends?”
“Bring whomever you wish.” He licked the side of my mouth before pulling back and disappearing into the crowd. “I am certain they will enjoy the show.”
His absence was more draining than the rest of the encounter and I stumbled to a table and rested my head on my forearms. A corner of the note stabbed into my thigh, but there was no way I could make it to the bathroom, and I was certainly not going to pull it out in public.
Half an hour later, Azrael joined me at the table, two club sodas in his hands. “I didn’t have any luck,” he said, flopping into the chair beside me. “How about you?”
Luck was not the word I would use, so I shook my head. I could share everything about the night with my partner at work, after a long shower.
Azrael patted my shoulder. “We’ll get him,” he said, trying to be comforting.
Somehow, his statement made me feel worse than I thought possible.