atwt - i fell heavy into your arms (2/2) - nukebigbang
Title: i fell heavy into your arms (2/2)
Author: the_beccaroo
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Noah/Luke (also peripheral Dusty/Reid. No, I'm not kidding.)
Characters: Noah, Luke, Dusty, Reid, Captain Winston Mayer, Holden Snyder, etc.
Warnings: Guns, shooting, nonsensical police talk that I've gathered only from watching cop procedurals, man love.
Words: ~12,400 (this part, ~5,800)
Disclaimer: These boys are not mine not mine not mine not mine - but this universe is.
Summary: AU - Noah Mayer is a good cop. He is. And he's got a good life. He thinks. It seems like a routine call out to a crime scene the day he finds Damien Grimaldi dead on the floor of his office, but that call leads him into a world he's not sure he was ready to stumble into. Mostly thanks to meeting one Luke Snyder, who strides into his life and cubicle like he owns the world, forcing Noah to face feelings that he's been burying his whole life.
-
Noah stood by the Snyder family farm kitchen table, feeling awful and awkward as he tucked his hands into his pockets, watching as the small children were quickly herded upstairs, Snyder faces drawn and angry and resolute. Dusty stood silent and steady just behind him, at his right shoulder. Noah was glad he was here - he was absolutely sick to his stomach as he watched Natalie stare at him as she started up the stairs. For a brief second, Noah felt like he couldn’t breathe - this was wrong, this was so wrong. He could feel it so deep down in his bones that for a moment there he was convinced that liar was carved into his ribs.
So he glanced down, the kitchen table before him filled with half finished food, toys, books, papers, keys, a flipflop, two half cut lemons and… a notebook. Noah’s eyes were immediately drawn to the handwriting on the page - familiar. Luke’s.
It was a poem.
I know you by heart
Robin’s egg blue blood
Rivers of veins pouring past
Acres of pale soft wrist and bone
Memorize (mesmerizeprioritize)
The art in arteries
Of
Red paint splashed across pure machine
Thumping pumping whistling
Tearing sewing sew so
So you
So me
I know you by heart
By heart I mean
As if of
Crinkled worn x’s marking
Jagged dark spots
Never been but seen
Drawn by scarred cartographers
Ink and blood and callouses
But known
But loved
I know you by heart
Knowing like
The bucking noise of thump and thunk
And life’s pursuit in blood and awe
Iron and pride
Cannot willnot shan’tnot not knot
Knotted pumping lines
Pausing clogged wait
Wait. Wait. wait
I know you by your heart
Brain and matter and grey
Bound tight to
thump and soul and crimson
scarlet scarred scared please
please.
don’t leave.
I know you by your
you
me
your
heart my heart same heart
thump thunk bluescarlet wait.
wait.
please.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” Luke snapped, snatching the notebook from the desk, his face furious. “Get out of my house. Both of you”
“Luke!” His mother and grandmother spoke in unison, faces identical expressions of disapproval, though Noah was under no delusions that he was welcomed here by them too.
“Sorry,” Noah said, quietly, awkwardly, his hands clenching in his pockets. The poem was… well, Noah didn’t know much about poetry and maybe it was absolute shit, but Noah couldn’t help but relate down to his deepest marrow, each thunk of his heart reminding him how little he knew everyone and how little everyone knew him. And how that probably wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not with Luke. Noah wished that he had a photographic memory, the idea of Luke murmuring those words to him, breath hot against Noah’s ear - Noah had to force himself to stare at his feet.
Finally, a minute later, Holden joined the small clan forming downstairs, looking utterly at ease, eyes only for his family. “I think we know what this is about,” he said calmly, wrapping an arm around his mother and his wife each, tugging them close as they held back on tears.
“You don’t have to do this Dad,” Luke started, furious and vibrating with pent up energy. “We’ll fight this, you can run. We can figure something out.” Holden pressed a kiss to the forehead of each of the women in his arms before crossing the room to wrap an arm around Luke’s shoulders and shake him gently.
“I’m not running anywhere,” Holden said quietly. “You know me better than that Luke.” Luke stared up at his father desperately, clearly wanting to help but not knowing how. “It’ll get sorted out, don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.” He wrapped Luke in a hug and Noah could only watch with a detached sort of envy, before Holden turned to Dusty and was read his rights, quietly and respectfully.
Luke whirled on Noah. “You sicken me,” Luke said, betrayal on his face. Noah could only stare in response, his heart thudding and his mouth hot and dry. “You’re just like everyone else in this town, small minded and stupid. No wonder your father thinks you do shit work!”
“Hey, watch your mouth,” Dusty said, starting forward with a scowl. Noah laid a hand on his chest, face still calm and implacable.
“Mr. Snyder’s upset,” Noah said, almost robotically. “I understand. C’mon. Let’s just head back to the precinct.” With a heavy heart and a throbbing, aching knot in his stomach, it was all Noah could do to turn away from Luke and head out the door and far, far away.
-
“Noah, have you been in the financial files again?”
Noah had just stepped into lock up to head towards Holden Snyder’s holding cell for the night - it was only about ten feet down the aisle - but he paused and turned to face his father as he stepped inside after him. “Yes sir,” Noah answered after hesitating a moment. He’d been worried for the past few weeks about what the budgets were coming out with and the results that some of the financial offices had been talking about - it was looking like pay cuts for some people and perhaps even some layoffs if the budgets didn’t sort themselves out - which was suspicious in its own right. Noah’s curiosity had led to a little digging within the files themselves - which wasn’t illegal, just uncommon.
The look on his father’s face was pure fury and Noah had to resist taking a step back from him, his father’s body language all aggression and
“You need to watch yourself son,” the Captain said, eyes narrowing, voice carrying easily through lock up and probably outside to the cubicle forest. “You are working above your paygrade and what you need to focus on is your fucking case, because your typical substandard work won’t cut it on this one Noah.” Noah nodded, chest hurting something fierce. “Also, you need to tell Donovan that he needs to keep his hands off the Reid Oliver case. You two have been following that fag’s case too closely and now you both look like fags. I can’t have weakness in this precinct and you are setting the example for how to screw up. No son of mine is a fag.” Winston scowled. “Your mother would’ve been disgusted.”
Noah flinched.
The Captain used to forbid Noah to do lots of things. Talking about his mom was forbidden, as was looking at the picture he used to keep under his bed of her. He was forbidden from being impertinent and talking back. Forbidden. It was a word with weight, with a solidity and certainty that little else in Noah's life had. To be forbidden was to have boundaries, to set walls, to draw lines in the sand.
Sometimes Noah relished the abrupt commands issued by the Captain. For Noah, rules were the answers to questions he had yet to ask. If he pretended hard enough, he could almost believe that the Captain decreed such things out of love and affection and worry. That he anticipated Noah's actions and set these rules to remind him that there was always someone watching, ready to pick him up if he fell. If Noah tried hard enough, he could almost believe that the Captain cared.
Almost.
His picture of his mother… it wasn’t the best picture of her. Time and the eager, heartbroken fingertips of a child had worn away at her face, leaving Noah with only a vague silhouette remaining. She had often been hastily squashed between the pages of books, leaving her edges crinkled and torn. Noah loved his mother very much, but his father did not agree. To bring her up like this, in this fashion - to insult her so blatantly to Noah’s face. To call attention to every part of Noah’s failings that he tried so hard to correct - it was clear that the Captain was trying to strike now and strike hard. Noah just let out a shuddery breath and nodded. “Yes sir,” he enunciated, not moving until his father’s indifferent flick of the hand seemed to say ‘I’m done with you now, please leave.’
Noah’s face burned as he turned away from his father, unceremoniously dismissed, and headed down the concrete aisle, deeper into lock up. He paused in front of Holden’s cell and forced himself to raise his head and square his shoulders and look the man in the eye, even as his hands shook and shame rushed through him. “Sorry you had to hear that,” Noah got out thickly, folding his arms across his chest, unsure of how to react to Holden’s implacable expression.
Holden turned his head to glance back down the aisle to where the Captain had been standing moments before, his face still unreadable. “I’m sorry you had to hear it son,” he said finally, glancing up at Noah. Noah’s throat tightened and he shrugged a shoulder simply.
“I’m also sorry I had to bring you in,” Noah said honestly, taking a step closer to the cell. “I…” He couldn’t believe he was telling an in-custody suspect this, but Noah knew his instincts and he knew, more than anything, that he was right. “I don’t think you killed Damien.” Holden blinked slowly, his lips quirking slightly.
“Well,” he drawled, “I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is to hear. Though I’m a little confused as to how that belief landed me here for the night” Noah bit down on the slight smile that wanted to appear.
“Some higher ups didn’t want to see past the obvious,” Noah said carefully and Holden nodded in understanding.
“I see,” he said, thumbing the five o’clock shadow that was starting along his jaw. “I don’t suppose they took into account that despite how much I hated Damien, I thought what he had done for Luke, finding him a job that Luke loves and enjoys and excels at, meant more than how much I wanted to punch him every time I saw him?”
“They don’t believe it’s relevant,” Noah parroted, eyes narrowing in anger at his father, at this precinct, at this stupid town for crucifying a great man like Holden before evidence was even gathered. “I believe you,” he says fiercely. “God, I don’t know why but I know you didn’t do this.”
“And that’s good enough for me son,” Holden said placidly, settling back casually on his cot, catching Noah’s eye with a firm nod. “I know you’ll do right by me and Luke on this case. I know you’ll catch the real killer. You’re too smart and dedicated not to - I trust you.”
Noah’s throat felt tight as he stared at Holden wordlessly. Was that… was that was having a dad felt like? When your world was slowly collapsing and all you could do was get tugged along by the current, were dads supposed to have the ability to make you feel better about it? The Captain had never said anything resembling those words to him and it was all Noah could do not to beg to hear more.
“I’ll do my best,” Noah said instead, his rote reply to the Captain when he told Noah to step up his game, to stop being a pussy, to get the job done, to stop being a disappointment.
“I’m sure you always do,” Holden said quietly in response and Noah nodded his head jerkily and all but fled, not sure how to deal with someone believing in him.
-
When Luke had started towards the precinct late that evening, he’d had grand and glorious plans of storming the building courageously, punching out anyone who stood between him and freeing his father, perhaps bumping into fucking Detective Mayer and… well, Luke couldn’t decide between shooting him or kissing him, so perhaps both.
But when he pushed through the enormous front doors, he wasn’t greeted by swarms of angry cops - all he saw were tired men and women, peering over paper work, looking like they’d much rather be anywhere but here.
Luke spotted Dusty Donovan at his desk, though the one across from him was empty. He supposed that if he was going to start anywhere, Dusty would be a good place. “Where’s my dad?” Luke demanded, folding his arms as he neared Dusty’s desk. “And where’s Detective Mayer, I want to give him a piece of my mind. And you! What the hell were you thinking, arresting my father? Do you know who he is? What kind of person he is? He’s the most level headed, responsible, kind-”
“If this is all there is kid, please go home,” Dusty said tiredly. “I’m sorry we arrested your dad, but I just don’t have time for this.” Luke’s glare narrowed and he saw red.
“You don’t have time for this? For what? Doing your job? Acting like a detective? Or at least a sentient human being? And where the hell is Mayer, I need him to hear this too-”
At that, Dusty’s face went hard. “You stay the hell away from Mayer. He’s been working is ass off on this case and he doesn’t need a yappy little kid in his face, telling him what a piece of shit he is again.” Luke scowled. “He thinks your dad is innocent and he hasn’t slept in three goddamn days, hunting for proof of it so that we can send him home. Some higher ups got involved and we were forced to arrest your father - and now we’re trying to make sure he doesn’t stay in lock up.”
Luke was quiet for a moment. “He thinks my dad’s innocent?” Luke asked, eyes wide.
“He knows it,” Dusty affirmed. “And he’s driving himself crazy trying to find evidence.” Dusty sighed. “He’s going to kill himself if he keeps moving at this pace.”
Luke couldn’t deal with the twisting, warm feeling in his stomach - part guilt and part inexplicable happiness. He didn’t care what Mayer thought, what Mayer thought was ultimately unimportant - but the idea that he’d been killing himself trying to help Luke’s dad… well, it wouldn’t hurt to thank him for that, right? Luke’s whole face felt warm and he felt a little dizzy as he considered what he might say to the tall, blue eyed officer who he’d purposefully hurt terribly only hours before.
He wasn’t sure he could do that.
“How does he like his coffee?” Luke demanded of Dusty when he neared his desk again. Dusty looked up, blinking.
“Mostly black, half a sugar,” he said slowly, the smirk growing on his face.
“Shut up,” Luke growled, stomping away to the coffee pot and pouring a large cup and half a sugar in, before stomping back and leaving it on Detective Ma… Noah’s desk.
“Bye Mr. Snyder,” Dusty called after him and it was all Luke could do not to turn back and punch him in the head. Instead, he ignored him and left the precinct, feeling shaky and warm on the inside, thoughts of blue eyes again creeping in.
-
Days passed and Luke was close to just running into the precinct screaming for more information. He tried, through his various connections, some more ethically sound than others, to figure out just how the investigation into his father was going and whether any new evidence had been discovered. He’d encountered Noah at several different places about town, talking to different people, that same quiet, calm smile on his face as he spoke politely and nodded interestedly. Every time Noah had given him a dirty look for interfering, but Luke couldn’t help it. This was his father after all.
“Stay out of the case,” Noah warned. “This is for your own safety Luke.” Luke ignored him utterly - he was solving this case and setting his father free and that was that. But, despite his best efforts, nothing seemed to be coming of his own private investigation. Until one night, a few days later.
The phone rang that evening, sounding the same as it usually did, foretelling no terrible omen, hinting at nothing. Luke answered it, the same as usual - except perhaps slightly more frustrated than usual. Detective Noah Mayer was being an absolute idiot and Luke could hardly stand it - if only he’d just let Luke in on the investigation, Luke was sure that he could help. He had the resources to do much more than what the Oakdale PD was capable of, but every time he proposed the idea to Detective Mayer, he was greeted with the same imperturbable smile and refusal. “Yes?” Luke snapped into the phone.
“You interested in clearing your father’s name?” came the muffled voice on the other end, unidentifiable as a man or a woman. Luke blinked - stunned into silence for a very brief moment.
“How?” he demanded, all common sense flying out the window as his mind latched onto the idea that there was evidence to exonerate Holden - a video tape? A picture proving he was at home the whole time? “Who is this?”
“A friend,” the voice replied, quiet. “Come to Grimaldi Shipping tonight at eleven. The evidence will be in Damien’s office.”
Luke... well, he didn’t have a choice, did he?
-
On second thought, Luke considered as he faced down the barrel of a gun, perhaps he had been a bit hasty in charging forward in an investigation he had barely managed to catch a glimpse at, never mind understand fully.
Because they had been so wrong, Luke marveled. Well, at least he had - Luke had been investigating some of Damien’s less than savory ties to certain Maltese shipping syndicates and had been very carefully prodding some of the least savory characters who were most likely related to mobs of various sorts. He had no idea where Noah was going with this case, considering how little information Noah was handing off to him - “for his own good.” Luke had scoffed but he was realizing now that Noah had probably been right.
Dammit.
This… Luke stared at the woman behind the gun, perfectly pressed and hair curled precisely. She had always looked so beautiful every time Luke had seen her; her soft polite smile, quiet but whip smart. But now her eyes were crazed, her smile crooked and cruel. Luke had rather liked her when he met her.
But apparently Edith, Damien’s secretary, had liked Damien a lot too.
“You were having an affair with Damien?” Luke asked, his voice quiet.
“It wasn’t an affair!” Edith snapped, gun in her hand shaking violently and Luke held his breath. “He’s not married, he’s not attached - he was mine! We were in love!” Luke could see so clearly how it all went down. Despite Luke’s insistence that Damien would never again stand a chance with Lily, Damien refused to let go of that memory of them together. He was almost obsessed with the idea of reclaiming the family he’d had once ago. Luke had told him time and time again that it would never be - but he could see how Damien would brush off a fling if he’d come up with some new, ridiculous plan to win Lily back.
“But it didn’t last,” Luke said, forcing his tone to be sympathetic, even as Edith focused the gun’s sight on him.
“Because I wasn’t enough!” Edith insisted, “I didn’t do enough for him! I wasn’t good enough at my job, I wasn’t pretty enough! He loved me! I just needed to be enough for him!” Luke’s stomach twisted, whether with terror at being in the room with a cold-blooded, clinically troubled murderer - or at the idea of a terrified woman, clinging to someone who treated her terribly.
“Of course you were,” he said softly, taking a small step backwards as Edith’s gaze whirled around the room.
Edith’s eyes zeroed in on him and her smile turned soft - and terrifying. “You were always so nice to me,” she said wonderingly. “You always remembered my birthday and my mom’s name. You got me flowers that one time - my favorites.” Luke’s eyes widened. He took another step back as Edith reminisced aloud, eyes on the ceiling.
“A friend,” he said quickly, “I was being a friend. Edith, Edith - why did you bring me here? Why did you call me?”
“You! For us!” she said, eagerly. “You could be with me! We could be happy together! You even look like him!” Luke’s urge to vomit increased exponentially as he tried taking another step backwards, creeping closer to escape. “I want us to be happy!”
Luke’s fists clenched and he shook his head. “Edith, we can’t,” he said, “I’m gay Edith, I can’t be with you. You need to let me go - you’ll find someone new, I promise,” he said earnestly, eyes wide, face honest.
Edith’s face went hard. “You’re gay,” she said flatly. “If you’re gay, you’re of no use to me,” she said, hefting the gun again and pointing it at Luke’s face. “If you’re gay, you’re abandoning me, just like he did. And I hurt the people who hurt me,” she said simply. “You’re dead.”
Heart pounding, pulse racing, Luke watched in slow horror as Edith cocked the pistol and steadied it. Words failed him and so he dove behind Damien’s desk, the whole moment feeling as if it passed in slow motion. He could hear the bang of the gun in the large office, thundering in his ears and deafening him for a brief moment. His ears rang loudly as he lay there and for a second, all Luke could do was wonder why Edith hadn’t circled the desk and shot again. But the ringing died away enough that Luke realized that it wasn’t buzzing beneath the ringing - but shouting.
“-your hands in the air!” shouted Noah. “I said drop the gun and put your hands in the air!” Luke peered around the corner of the desk, too low for either Edith or Noah to be able to see him - Edith’s back was to him now and her gun was pointed directly at Noah. Luke’s heard thudded wildly, breath catching in his throat.
“You’re surrounded,” Noah said loudly and calmly. “Please drop your gun and no one will get hurt.”
“Fuck you!” Edith screeched, “All I want is love! And you all keep ruining everything!” She fired and for a split second, Luke’s heart stopped and it was all he could do to keep from lunging after Edith and taking her down - because if Noah was dead… Luke wasn’t sure what he’d do.
But Noah was fine, crouched on one knee, gun still in hand. “Drop the gun!” Edith took aim again - and there was a bang from a gun, but this time it was Noah’s - Edith screamed and her gun clattered to the floor as she clutched at her arm, squeezing and crying. A second later, the room was filled with people - at least five people went to subdue and treat Edith, who was scratching and screaming at anyone who came close. SWAT filled the room, confiscating the gun and trying to speak to Noah - but Luke watched as Noah brushed past them all, rounding the desk to stare down wordlessly at Luke. Luke stared back up silently at him. Noah’s eyes roved over him, anxious - Luke realized he’d had no idea whether or not Luke had gotten hurt or not.
“You absolute idiot!” Noah shouted, as soon as he was assured that Luke was alive and well. He grabbed at Luke’s arm and hauled him off the floor, hands clutching at Luke’s arms, as if assuring himself that Luke was whole and okay. “Are you absolutely insane? You came here alone, without backup, without a weapon, without your brain - and you expected to survive?” Noah stared wildly down at Luke, who was staring up at him with that intoxicatingly aggravating look of embarrassment and defiance. “You could have died!” Noah said, insistently.
Without a second of hesitation, Noah hauled Luke close with one arm, their chests pressed close together and took his mouth in a desperate, fervent kiss. Detectives and SWAT around him ignored the two, collecting Edith from her crumpled mess on the floor, reporting to each other, speaking into radio comms on their shoulders. At least twenty people surrounded them and all Noah could think about was the frustrating, aggravating, beautiful man in his arms who was kissing back with everything he had.
When they broke away, it was only to take a breath before pressing back against each other, hands clutching tightly at the other.
“I hate you,” Noah muttered, his eyes bright with happiness and relief.
“Hate you too,” Luke murmured. “Kiss me again.”
-
When they got through the gauntlet of SWAT team members who needed to hear the story of how Luke and Noah came to be in Damien’s office and finally managed to get outside, Luke glanced at his watch and groaned. It was nearing three AM and all he wanted to do was collapse in sleep far from anyone - except maybe… he glanced up at Noah, was smiling down at him, looking exhausted and utterly worn out.
The smile quickly disappeared as Noah realized who was coming towards them - Captain Winston Mayer of the Oakdale PD strode towards them, face furious. “What the fuck was that Mayer?” he asked. “I specifically told you to stay away from this building, you went against direct orders. This is the last fucking straw.” The Captain was shouting and Noah flinched as he spoke - every SWAT member and cop within a half mile was staring at them. His dressing downs had never been so public before. “ Disobeying direct orders from your superior and your father! You’re already a useless detective, you’ve just proven yourself to be a worthless son,” Winston snarled and Noah stared down at the ground. “Fucking around to help some faggy kid? Some faggy doctor? You are a disappointment Noah and first thing in the morning I’m recommending to IA that you be let go.”
“Don’t you speak to him like that!” snapped Luke, nudging past a silent and stunned Noah - ignoring the looks he got from those watching this horrific scene. “Noah’s the only reason you got your thumb out of your ass and found the real murderer! He’s smart and clever and calm and you’re fucking lucky to have him as a cop and a son! You-”
“Keep your nose out of it!” Winston snarled, turning his attention onto Luke and taking a threatening step towards him. “I’m going to-”
“Captain Winston Mayer,” called a voice from just at the edge of the audience that had formed during Noah’s dressing down. “If you could put your hands behind your back for me please.”
Captain Mayer whirled, face mottled red in fury. “What the fuck did you say to me?” The suited man stepped forward, followed by another, followed by a smugly, smiling Margo.
“I said put your hands behind your back, because you’re under arrest,” the man repeated. His partner crossed to the captain, who took two steps back, moving for his gun. Every officer for twenty feet made the same aborted gesture - the tension in the area rocketing up exponentially. Noah pushed Luke back out of the center of the circle, keeping him away.
“Internal Affairs finally found proof of you skimming off of your department budget,” said the partner with the cuffs. “You’re going to jail for a long time buddy.”
“That’s not true at all!” Winston snarled. “This is a set up, this isn’t-”
“I’m afraid not Winston,” Margo said coolly. “I’m rarely wrong about these things - plus the evidence is pretty damning. Recorded phone calls to shady characters, ledgers kept in a secret drawer in your desk. You’re done.” Margo glanced over at Noah and managed a soft smile. With the help of three of the precincts officers - who looked entirely too pleased to be arresting their own captain - the IA official managed to lock the cuffs around the Captain’s wrists.
“Margo Hughes will be acting Captain of the precinct until further notice,” said the other IA officer, speaking to the group at large.
“Noah!” shouted Winston as they dragged him again. “Noah, don’t let them do this! I’m your father!” Noah watched him silently, stomach twisting with guilt - a moment later, Luke slipped his hand into Noah’s, squeezing gently. Noah glanced down at him, smiling gratefully. “No son of mine is a fag!” shouted Winston as they shoved him in the car, looking furious at the sight of Noah and Luke together.
“No son of yours,” Noah agreed aloud.
“Well, well, well. Does this mean you’re not going to be taking Donovan off my hands Mayer?” Reid asked dryly from behind them, arm still in a cast and his left leg in a brace, but generally looking much healthier than he had in days.
Dusty snorted. “You know you love me Oliver. What the fuck would you do without me driving everywhere?”
“Probably have less panic attacks you jackass,” Reid replied promptly but Noah spotted the hint of a smile at the corner of Reid’s lips and how their shoulders brushed when Reid turned to find a bench to settle into so that he could still watch the goings on and make snarky comments about people’s stupidity, but he could be comfortable and still do so.
“You’ll have to deal with Donovan on your own Oliver,” Noah said with a smirk, hand still caught in Luke’s and having no plans of moving it anywhere else.
Margo strode towards them a moment later - the crowd finally clearing some, moving back to doing actual jobs, especially knowing that their new Captain would have something to say about it.
Noah watched as she drew closer, his expression nervous - hand still in Luke’s. What would she say? How would she react? Margo looked at him, her expression unreadable. A long moment passed before a wide smile broke out on her lips and she turned to look at Luke. “Hi Luke,” she said simply, offering her arms for a quick hug, which Luke took gladly.
“Hi Margo,” Luke said with a smile, “it’s nice to see you again, congrats.”
“Thank you,” she replied with a warm smile. “How is your family? Faith and Natalie doing well? And little Ethan? And remind that son of mine to call me every now and again.”
“Of course,” Luke said easily. “But you know Casey.”
“I do,” Margo said, rolling her eyes and smiling. “That I definitely do. You have a good one on your hands, you know,” Margo added, glancing over at the dumfounded Noah.
“Oh,” Luke replied with a smile, “I had an inkling.” Noah flushed. Margo fortunately left them in peace a moment later, leaving Noah to just stare at Luke - unable to believe how everything turned out.
Without hesitation, Luke reached up and tugged Noah down again for another kiss, somehow this time even better than the time before - and Noah had an inkling too, that it would probably just better every time they tried it.
Noah’s name was called and they broke away, Noah glancing over his shoulder at an officer, needing a report. Luke rolled his eyes, but pulled back, still smiling slightly. “Go,” he said, nudging Noah in the right direction. Noah took a reluctant step back, before realizing something.
“Call me,” Noah said, smiling as he pressed one of his cards into Luke’s hand - a perfect mimicry of the first time they met - but this time, Noah’s cell number was scribbled hastily on the back.
Luke smiled up at him, smile sly, eyes bright and made a non-committal noise. “We’ll see,” he said, biting his lip. Noah swooped in for one last quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd of officers, Luke smiling after him.
-
-
-
epilogue
“Noah, you’re going to be late,” Luke reminds him smugly from the kitchen table, wrapped warmly in a bathrobe and slippers, hair still rumpled from bed, hands clutched around a giant mug of coffee.
“Hate you,” Noah mutters, struggling with his tie like every other morning of his entire life. “Hate you so much.”
“Doubt it,” Luke says around a grape, which he crunches almost as punctuation to his statement, his emphasis sending an affectionately amused expression across Noah’s face. Luke stands as he shoves a handful of grapes into his mouth and crosses to Noah, tugging at Noah’s tie and retying it until it lays perfectly against Noah’s throat, the light blue of the tie matching his eyes almost perfectly. “Dere yoo goh,” Luke mumbles around the twenty grapes he shoved into his mouth gleefully.
“Oh god, you are so unattractive right now,” Noah groans, laughing and hiding his face in his hand. Luke snorts around the mouthful of grapes he is currently storing in his cheeks like a chipmunk. He makes a noise of disagreement and Noah peeks his head above his fingers.
Luke tries to raise one eyebrow appealingly, but only succeeds in losing a few grapes from his mouth - they all land on Noah’s hand and arm and Noah squawks and bats them away, sending them rolling off of him and under the fridge and table.
“Why is my boyfriend so gross?” Noah half-wails, laughing despite this. Luke is chomping away at his huge mouthful of grapes, grinning wickedly. Finally swallowing hard, Luke smiles more broadly.
“Guess you just got lucky, huh?” Luke says sweetly, offering a grape from the bowl to Noah, eyes wide and innocent.
“Or someone up there hates me,” Noah mutters, still smiling. He reaches up to take the grape from Luke’s fingers, but Luke yanks it away and makes a noise of protest. When Noah’s brow furrows, Luke simply presses the grape to Noah’s lips and smiles.
Noah gets the picture.
One by one, Luke offers a few grapes to Noah, pressing them teasingly to his mouth and letting the tips of his fingers brush Noah’s lips and tongue as Noah swallows the grapes down.
“Have to go to work,” Noah says hoarsely, barely pulling away in the slightest. “Just because some of us are lazy-”
“Self-employed,” Luke corrected, smiling coyly. “Some of us are just luckier than others.”
Noah smiles. “Some of us are,” he agrees simply, drawing Luke in for a lengthy goodbye kiss.
(And another.)
(And another.)
-
now i'll be bold
as well as strong
use my head alongside my heart
so take my flesh
and fix my eyes
that tethered mind free from the lies
part one | part two | art post
Author: the_beccaroo
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Noah/Luke (also peripheral Dusty/Reid. No, I'm not kidding.)
Characters: Noah, Luke, Dusty, Reid, Captain Winston Mayer, Holden Snyder, etc.
Warnings: Guns, shooting, nonsensical police talk that I've gathered only from watching cop procedurals, man love.
Words: ~12,400 (this part, ~5,800)
Disclaimer: These boys are not mine not mine not mine not mine - but this universe is.
Summary: AU - Noah Mayer is a good cop. He is. And he's got a good life. He thinks. It seems like a routine call out to a crime scene the day he finds Damien Grimaldi dead on the floor of his office, but that call leads him into a world he's not sure he was ready to stumble into. Mostly thanks to meeting one Luke Snyder, who strides into his life and cubicle like he owns the world, forcing Noah to face feelings that he's been burying his whole life.
-
Noah stood by the Snyder family farm kitchen table, feeling awful and awkward as he tucked his hands into his pockets, watching as the small children were quickly herded upstairs, Snyder faces drawn and angry and resolute. Dusty stood silent and steady just behind him, at his right shoulder. Noah was glad he was here - he was absolutely sick to his stomach as he watched Natalie stare at him as she started up the stairs. For a brief second, Noah felt like he couldn’t breathe - this was wrong, this was so wrong. He could feel it so deep down in his bones that for a moment there he was convinced that liar was carved into his ribs.
So he glanced down, the kitchen table before him filled with half finished food, toys, books, papers, keys, a flipflop, two half cut lemons and… a notebook. Noah’s eyes were immediately drawn to the handwriting on the page - familiar. Luke’s.
It was a poem.
I know you by heart
Robin’s egg blue blood
Rivers of veins pouring past
Acres of pale soft wrist and bone
Memorize (mesmerizeprioritize)
The art in arteries
Of
Red paint splashed across pure machine
Thumping pumping whistling
Tearing sewing sew so
So you
So me
I know you by heart
By heart I mean
As if of
Crinkled worn x’s marking
Jagged dark spots
Never been but seen
Drawn by scarred cartographers
Ink and blood and callouses
But known
But loved
I know you by heart
Knowing like
The bucking noise of thump and thunk
And life’s pursuit in blood and awe
Iron and pride
Cannot willnot shan’tnot not knot
Knotted pumping lines
Pausing clogged wait
Wait. Wait. wait
I know you by your heart
Brain and matter and grey
Bound tight to
thump and soul and crimson
scarlet scarred scared please
please.
don’t leave.
I know you by your
you
me
your
heart my heart same heart
thump thunk bluescarlet wait.
wait.
please.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” Luke snapped, snatching the notebook from the desk, his face furious. “Get out of my house. Both of you”
“Luke!” His mother and grandmother spoke in unison, faces identical expressions of disapproval, though Noah was under no delusions that he was welcomed here by them too.
“Sorry,” Noah said, quietly, awkwardly, his hands clenching in his pockets. The poem was… well, Noah didn’t know much about poetry and maybe it was absolute shit, but Noah couldn’t help but relate down to his deepest marrow, each thunk of his heart reminding him how little he knew everyone and how little everyone knew him. And how that probably wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not with Luke. Noah wished that he had a photographic memory, the idea of Luke murmuring those words to him, breath hot against Noah’s ear - Noah had to force himself to stare at his feet.
Finally, a minute later, Holden joined the small clan forming downstairs, looking utterly at ease, eyes only for his family. “I think we know what this is about,” he said calmly, wrapping an arm around his mother and his wife each, tugging them close as they held back on tears.
“You don’t have to do this Dad,” Luke started, furious and vibrating with pent up energy. “We’ll fight this, you can run. We can figure something out.” Holden pressed a kiss to the forehead of each of the women in his arms before crossing the room to wrap an arm around Luke’s shoulders and shake him gently.
“I’m not running anywhere,” Holden said quietly. “You know me better than that Luke.” Luke stared up at his father desperately, clearly wanting to help but not knowing how. “It’ll get sorted out, don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.” He wrapped Luke in a hug and Noah could only watch with a detached sort of envy, before Holden turned to Dusty and was read his rights, quietly and respectfully.
Luke whirled on Noah. “You sicken me,” Luke said, betrayal on his face. Noah could only stare in response, his heart thudding and his mouth hot and dry. “You’re just like everyone else in this town, small minded and stupid. No wonder your father thinks you do shit work!”
“Hey, watch your mouth,” Dusty said, starting forward with a scowl. Noah laid a hand on his chest, face still calm and implacable.
“Mr. Snyder’s upset,” Noah said, almost robotically. “I understand. C’mon. Let’s just head back to the precinct.” With a heavy heart and a throbbing, aching knot in his stomach, it was all Noah could do to turn away from Luke and head out the door and far, far away.
-
“Noah, have you been in the financial files again?”
Noah had just stepped into lock up to head towards Holden Snyder’s holding cell for the night - it was only about ten feet down the aisle - but he paused and turned to face his father as he stepped inside after him. “Yes sir,” Noah answered after hesitating a moment. He’d been worried for the past few weeks about what the budgets were coming out with and the results that some of the financial offices had been talking about - it was looking like pay cuts for some people and perhaps even some layoffs if the budgets didn’t sort themselves out - which was suspicious in its own right. Noah’s curiosity had led to a little digging within the files themselves - which wasn’t illegal, just uncommon.
The look on his father’s face was pure fury and Noah had to resist taking a step back from him, his father’s body language all aggression and
“You need to watch yourself son,” the Captain said, eyes narrowing, voice carrying easily through lock up and probably outside to the cubicle forest. “You are working above your paygrade and what you need to focus on is your fucking case, because your typical substandard work won’t cut it on this one Noah.” Noah nodded, chest hurting something fierce. “Also, you need to tell Donovan that he needs to keep his hands off the Reid Oliver case. You two have been following that fag’s case too closely and now you both look like fags. I can’t have weakness in this precinct and you are setting the example for how to screw up. No son of mine is a fag.” Winston scowled. “Your mother would’ve been disgusted.”
Noah flinched.
The Captain used to forbid Noah to do lots of things. Talking about his mom was forbidden, as was looking at the picture he used to keep under his bed of her. He was forbidden from being impertinent and talking back. Forbidden. It was a word with weight, with a solidity and certainty that little else in Noah's life had. To be forbidden was to have boundaries, to set walls, to draw lines in the sand.
Sometimes Noah relished the abrupt commands issued by the Captain. For Noah, rules were the answers to questions he had yet to ask. If he pretended hard enough, he could almost believe that the Captain decreed such things out of love and affection and worry. That he anticipated Noah's actions and set these rules to remind him that there was always someone watching, ready to pick him up if he fell. If Noah tried hard enough, he could almost believe that the Captain cared.
Almost.
His picture of his mother… it wasn’t the best picture of her. Time and the eager, heartbroken fingertips of a child had worn away at her face, leaving Noah with only a vague silhouette remaining. She had often been hastily squashed between the pages of books, leaving her edges crinkled and torn. Noah loved his mother very much, but his father did not agree. To bring her up like this, in this fashion - to insult her so blatantly to Noah’s face. To call attention to every part of Noah’s failings that he tried so hard to correct - it was clear that the Captain was trying to strike now and strike hard. Noah just let out a shuddery breath and nodded. “Yes sir,” he enunciated, not moving until his father’s indifferent flick of the hand seemed to say ‘I’m done with you now, please leave.’
Noah’s face burned as he turned away from his father, unceremoniously dismissed, and headed down the concrete aisle, deeper into lock up. He paused in front of Holden’s cell and forced himself to raise his head and square his shoulders and look the man in the eye, even as his hands shook and shame rushed through him. “Sorry you had to hear that,” Noah got out thickly, folding his arms across his chest, unsure of how to react to Holden’s implacable expression.
Holden turned his head to glance back down the aisle to where the Captain had been standing moments before, his face still unreadable. “I’m sorry you had to hear it son,” he said finally, glancing up at Noah. Noah’s throat tightened and he shrugged a shoulder simply.
“I’m also sorry I had to bring you in,” Noah said honestly, taking a step closer to the cell. “I…” He couldn’t believe he was telling an in-custody suspect this, but Noah knew his instincts and he knew, more than anything, that he was right. “I don’t think you killed Damien.” Holden blinked slowly, his lips quirking slightly.
“Well,” he drawled, “I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is to hear. Though I’m a little confused as to how that belief landed me here for the night” Noah bit down on the slight smile that wanted to appear.
“Some higher ups didn’t want to see past the obvious,” Noah said carefully and Holden nodded in understanding.
“I see,” he said, thumbing the five o’clock shadow that was starting along his jaw. “I don’t suppose they took into account that despite how much I hated Damien, I thought what he had done for Luke, finding him a job that Luke loves and enjoys and excels at, meant more than how much I wanted to punch him every time I saw him?”
“They don’t believe it’s relevant,” Noah parroted, eyes narrowing in anger at his father, at this precinct, at this stupid town for crucifying a great man like Holden before evidence was even gathered. “I believe you,” he says fiercely. “God, I don’t know why but I know you didn’t do this.”
“And that’s good enough for me son,” Holden said placidly, settling back casually on his cot, catching Noah’s eye with a firm nod. “I know you’ll do right by me and Luke on this case. I know you’ll catch the real killer. You’re too smart and dedicated not to - I trust you.”
Noah’s throat felt tight as he stared at Holden wordlessly. Was that… was that was having a dad felt like? When your world was slowly collapsing and all you could do was get tugged along by the current, were dads supposed to have the ability to make you feel better about it? The Captain had never said anything resembling those words to him and it was all Noah could do not to beg to hear more.
“I’ll do my best,” Noah said instead, his rote reply to the Captain when he told Noah to step up his game, to stop being a pussy, to get the job done, to stop being a disappointment.
“I’m sure you always do,” Holden said quietly in response and Noah nodded his head jerkily and all but fled, not sure how to deal with someone believing in him.
-
When Luke had started towards the precinct late that evening, he’d had grand and glorious plans of storming the building courageously, punching out anyone who stood between him and freeing his father, perhaps bumping into fucking Detective Mayer and… well, Luke couldn’t decide between shooting him or kissing him, so perhaps both.
But when he pushed through the enormous front doors, he wasn’t greeted by swarms of angry cops - all he saw were tired men and women, peering over paper work, looking like they’d much rather be anywhere but here.
Luke spotted Dusty Donovan at his desk, though the one across from him was empty. He supposed that if he was going to start anywhere, Dusty would be a good place. “Where’s my dad?” Luke demanded, folding his arms as he neared Dusty’s desk. “And where’s Detective Mayer, I want to give him a piece of my mind. And you! What the hell were you thinking, arresting my father? Do you know who he is? What kind of person he is? He’s the most level headed, responsible, kind-”
“If this is all there is kid, please go home,” Dusty said tiredly. “I’m sorry we arrested your dad, but I just don’t have time for this.” Luke’s glare narrowed and he saw red.
“You don’t have time for this? For what? Doing your job? Acting like a detective? Or at least a sentient human being? And where the hell is Mayer, I need him to hear this too-”
At that, Dusty’s face went hard. “You stay the hell away from Mayer. He’s been working is ass off on this case and he doesn’t need a yappy little kid in his face, telling him what a piece of shit he is again.” Luke scowled. “He thinks your dad is innocent and he hasn’t slept in three goddamn days, hunting for proof of it so that we can send him home. Some higher ups got involved and we were forced to arrest your father - and now we’re trying to make sure he doesn’t stay in lock up.”
Luke was quiet for a moment. “He thinks my dad’s innocent?” Luke asked, eyes wide.
“He knows it,” Dusty affirmed. “And he’s driving himself crazy trying to find evidence.” Dusty sighed. “He’s going to kill himself if he keeps moving at this pace.”
Luke couldn’t deal with the twisting, warm feeling in his stomach - part guilt and part inexplicable happiness. He didn’t care what Mayer thought, what Mayer thought was ultimately unimportant - but the idea that he’d been killing himself trying to help Luke’s dad… well, it wouldn’t hurt to thank him for that, right? Luke’s whole face felt warm and he felt a little dizzy as he considered what he might say to the tall, blue eyed officer who he’d purposefully hurt terribly only hours before.
He wasn’t sure he could do that.
“How does he like his coffee?” Luke demanded of Dusty when he neared his desk again. Dusty looked up, blinking.
“Mostly black, half a sugar,” he said slowly, the smirk growing on his face.
“Shut up,” Luke growled, stomping away to the coffee pot and pouring a large cup and half a sugar in, before stomping back and leaving it on Detective Ma… Noah’s desk.
“Bye Mr. Snyder,” Dusty called after him and it was all Luke could do not to turn back and punch him in the head. Instead, he ignored him and left the precinct, feeling shaky and warm on the inside, thoughts of blue eyes again creeping in.
-
Days passed and Luke was close to just running into the precinct screaming for more information. He tried, through his various connections, some more ethically sound than others, to figure out just how the investigation into his father was going and whether any new evidence had been discovered. He’d encountered Noah at several different places about town, talking to different people, that same quiet, calm smile on his face as he spoke politely and nodded interestedly. Every time Noah had given him a dirty look for interfering, but Luke couldn’t help it. This was his father after all.
“Stay out of the case,” Noah warned. “This is for your own safety Luke.” Luke ignored him utterly - he was solving this case and setting his father free and that was that. But, despite his best efforts, nothing seemed to be coming of his own private investigation. Until one night, a few days later.
The phone rang that evening, sounding the same as it usually did, foretelling no terrible omen, hinting at nothing. Luke answered it, the same as usual - except perhaps slightly more frustrated than usual. Detective Noah Mayer was being an absolute idiot and Luke could hardly stand it - if only he’d just let Luke in on the investigation, Luke was sure that he could help. He had the resources to do much more than what the Oakdale PD was capable of, but every time he proposed the idea to Detective Mayer, he was greeted with the same imperturbable smile and refusal. “Yes?” Luke snapped into the phone.
“You interested in clearing your father’s name?” came the muffled voice on the other end, unidentifiable as a man or a woman. Luke blinked - stunned into silence for a very brief moment.
“How?” he demanded, all common sense flying out the window as his mind latched onto the idea that there was evidence to exonerate Holden - a video tape? A picture proving he was at home the whole time? “Who is this?”
“A friend,” the voice replied, quiet. “Come to Grimaldi Shipping tonight at eleven. The evidence will be in Damien’s office.”
Luke... well, he didn’t have a choice, did he?
-
On second thought, Luke considered as he faced down the barrel of a gun, perhaps he had been a bit hasty in charging forward in an investigation he had barely managed to catch a glimpse at, never mind understand fully.
Because they had been so wrong, Luke marveled. Well, at least he had - Luke had been investigating some of Damien’s less than savory ties to certain Maltese shipping syndicates and had been very carefully prodding some of the least savory characters who were most likely related to mobs of various sorts. He had no idea where Noah was going with this case, considering how little information Noah was handing off to him - “for his own good.” Luke had scoffed but he was realizing now that Noah had probably been right.
Dammit.
This… Luke stared at the woman behind the gun, perfectly pressed and hair curled precisely. She had always looked so beautiful every time Luke had seen her; her soft polite smile, quiet but whip smart. But now her eyes were crazed, her smile crooked and cruel. Luke had rather liked her when he met her.
But apparently Edith, Damien’s secretary, had liked Damien a lot too.
“You were having an affair with Damien?” Luke asked, his voice quiet.
“It wasn’t an affair!” Edith snapped, gun in her hand shaking violently and Luke held his breath. “He’s not married, he’s not attached - he was mine! We were in love!” Luke could see so clearly how it all went down. Despite Luke’s insistence that Damien would never again stand a chance with Lily, Damien refused to let go of that memory of them together. He was almost obsessed with the idea of reclaiming the family he’d had once ago. Luke had told him time and time again that it would never be - but he could see how Damien would brush off a fling if he’d come up with some new, ridiculous plan to win Lily back.
“But it didn’t last,” Luke said, forcing his tone to be sympathetic, even as Edith focused the gun’s sight on him.
“Because I wasn’t enough!” Edith insisted, “I didn’t do enough for him! I wasn’t good enough at my job, I wasn’t pretty enough! He loved me! I just needed to be enough for him!” Luke’s stomach twisted, whether with terror at being in the room with a cold-blooded, clinically troubled murderer - or at the idea of a terrified woman, clinging to someone who treated her terribly.
“Of course you were,” he said softly, taking a small step backwards as Edith’s gaze whirled around the room.
Edith’s eyes zeroed in on him and her smile turned soft - and terrifying. “You were always so nice to me,” she said wonderingly. “You always remembered my birthday and my mom’s name. You got me flowers that one time - my favorites.” Luke’s eyes widened. He took another step back as Edith reminisced aloud, eyes on the ceiling.
“A friend,” he said quickly, “I was being a friend. Edith, Edith - why did you bring me here? Why did you call me?”
“You! For us!” she said, eagerly. “You could be with me! We could be happy together! You even look like him!” Luke’s urge to vomit increased exponentially as he tried taking another step backwards, creeping closer to escape. “I want us to be happy!”
Luke’s fists clenched and he shook his head. “Edith, we can’t,” he said, “I’m gay Edith, I can’t be with you. You need to let me go - you’ll find someone new, I promise,” he said earnestly, eyes wide, face honest.
Edith’s face went hard. “You’re gay,” she said flatly. “If you’re gay, you’re of no use to me,” she said, hefting the gun again and pointing it at Luke’s face. “If you’re gay, you’re abandoning me, just like he did. And I hurt the people who hurt me,” she said simply. “You’re dead.”
Heart pounding, pulse racing, Luke watched in slow horror as Edith cocked the pistol and steadied it. Words failed him and so he dove behind Damien’s desk, the whole moment feeling as if it passed in slow motion. He could hear the bang of the gun in the large office, thundering in his ears and deafening him for a brief moment. His ears rang loudly as he lay there and for a second, all Luke could do was wonder why Edith hadn’t circled the desk and shot again. But the ringing died away enough that Luke realized that it wasn’t buzzing beneath the ringing - but shouting.
“-your hands in the air!” shouted Noah. “I said drop the gun and put your hands in the air!” Luke peered around the corner of the desk, too low for either Edith or Noah to be able to see him - Edith’s back was to him now and her gun was pointed directly at Noah. Luke’s heard thudded wildly, breath catching in his throat.
“You’re surrounded,” Noah said loudly and calmly. “Please drop your gun and no one will get hurt.”
“Fuck you!” Edith screeched, “All I want is love! And you all keep ruining everything!” She fired and for a split second, Luke’s heart stopped and it was all he could do to keep from lunging after Edith and taking her down - because if Noah was dead… Luke wasn’t sure what he’d do.
But Noah was fine, crouched on one knee, gun still in hand. “Drop the gun!” Edith took aim again - and there was a bang from a gun, but this time it was Noah’s - Edith screamed and her gun clattered to the floor as she clutched at her arm, squeezing and crying. A second later, the room was filled with people - at least five people went to subdue and treat Edith, who was scratching and screaming at anyone who came close. SWAT filled the room, confiscating the gun and trying to speak to Noah - but Luke watched as Noah brushed past them all, rounding the desk to stare down wordlessly at Luke. Luke stared back up silently at him. Noah’s eyes roved over him, anxious - Luke realized he’d had no idea whether or not Luke had gotten hurt or not.
“You absolute idiot!” Noah shouted, as soon as he was assured that Luke was alive and well. He grabbed at Luke’s arm and hauled him off the floor, hands clutching at Luke’s arms, as if assuring himself that Luke was whole and okay. “Are you absolutely insane? You came here alone, without backup, without a weapon, without your brain - and you expected to survive?” Noah stared wildly down at Luke, who was staring up at him with that intoxicatingly aggravating look of embarrassment and defiance. “You could have died!” Noah said, insistently.
Without a second of hesitation, Noah hauled Luke close with one arm, their chests pressed close together and took his mouth in a desperate, fervent kiss. Detectives and SWAT around him ignored the two, collecting Edith from her crumpled mess on the floor, reporting to each other, speaking into radio comms on their shoulders. At least twenty people surrounded them and all Noah could think about was the frustrating, aggravating, beautiful man in his arms who was kissing back with everything he had.
When they broke away, it was only to take a breath before pressing back against each other, hands clutching tightly at the other.
“I hate you,” Noah muttered, his eyes bright with happiness and relief.
“Hate you too,” Luke murmured. “Kiss me again.”
-
When they got through the gauntlet of SWAT team members who needed to hear the story of how Luke and Noah came to be in Damien’s office and finally managed to get outside, Luke glanced at his watch and groaned. It was nearing three AM and all he wanted to do was collapse in sleep far from anyone - except maybe… he glanced up at Noah, was smiling down at him, looking exhausted and utterly worn out.
The smile quickly disappeared as Noah realized who was coming towards them - Captain Winston Mayer of the Oakdale PD strode towards them, face furious. “What the fuck was that Mayer?” he asked. “I specifically told you to stay away from this building, you went against direct orders. This is the last fucking straw.” The Captain was shouting and Noah flinched as he spoke - every SWAT member and cop within a half mile was staring at them. His dressing downs had never been so public before. “ Disobeying direct orders from your superior and your father! You’re already a useless detective, you’ve just proven yourself to be a worthless son,” Winston snarled and Noah stared down at the ground. “Fucking around to help some faggy kid? Some faggy doctor? You are a disappointment Noah and first thing in the morning I’m recommending to IA that you be let go.”
“Don’t you speak to him like that!” snapped Luke, nudging past a silent and stunned Noah - ignoring the looks he got from those watching this horrific scene. “Noah’s the only reason you got your thumb out of your ass and found the real murderer! He’s smart and clever and calm and you’re fucking lucky to have him as a cop and a son! You-”
“Keep your nose out of it!” Winston snarled, turning his attention onto Luke and taking a threatening step towards him. “I’m going to-”
“Captain Winston Mayer,” called a voice from just at the edge of the audience that had formed during Noah’s dressing down. “If you could put your hands behind your back for me please.”
Captain Mayer whirled, face mottled red in fury. “What the fuck did you say to me?” The suited man stepped forward, followed by another, followed by a smugly, smiling Margo.
“I said put your hands behind your back, because you’re under arrest,” the man repeated. His partner crossed to the captain, who took two steps back, moving for his gun. Every officer for twenty feet made the same aborted gesture - the tension in the area rocketing up exponentially. Noah pushed Luke back out of the center of the circle, keeping him away.
“Internal Affairs finally found proof of you skimming off of your department budget,” said the partner with the cuffs. “You’re going to jail for a long time buddy.”
“That’s not true at all!” Winston snarled. “This is a set up, this isn’t-”
“I’m afraid not Winston,” Margo said coolly. “I’m rarely wrong about these things - plus the evidence is pretty damning. Recorded phone calls to shady characters, ledgers kept in a secret drawer in your desk. You’re done.” Margo glanced over at Noah and managed a soft smile. With the help of three of the precincts officers - who looked entirely too pleased to be arresting their own captain - the IA official managed to lock the cuffs around the Captain’s wrists.
“Margo Hughes will be acting Captain of the precinct until further notice,” said the other IA officer, speaking to the group at large.
“Noah!” shouted Winston as they dragged him again. “Noah, don’t let them do this! I’m your father!” Noah watched him silently, stomach twisting with guilt - a moment later, Luke slipped his hand into Noah’s, squeezing gently. Noah glanced down at him, smiling gratefully. “No son of mine is a fag!” shouted Winston as they shoved him in the car, looking furious at the sight of Noah and Luke together.
“No son of yours,” Noah agreed aloud.
“Well, well, well. Does this mean you’re not going to be taking Donovan off my hands Mayer?” Reid asked dryly from behind them, arm still in a cast and his left leg in a brace, but generally looking much healthier than he had in days.
Dusty snorted. “You know you love me Oliver. What the fuck would you do without me driving everywhere?”
“Probably have less panic attacks you jackass,” Reid replied promptly but Noah spotted the hint of a smile at the corner of Reid’s lips and how their shoulders brushed when Reid turned to find a bench to settle into so that he could still watch the goings on and make snarky comments about people’s stupidity, but he could be comfortable and still do so.
“You’ll have to deal with Donovan on your own Oliver,” Noah said with a smirk, hand still caught in Luke’s and having no plans of moving it anywhere else.
Margo strode towards them a moment later - the crowd finally clearing some, moving back to doing actual jobs, especially knowing that their new Captain would have something to say about it.
Noah watched as she drew closer, his expression nervous - hand still in Luke’s. What would she say? How would she react? Margo looked at him, her expression unreadable. A long moment passed before a wide smile broke out on her lips and she turned to look at Luke. “Hi Luke,” she said simply, offering her arms for a quick hug, which Luke took gladly.
“Hi Margo,” Luke said with a smile, “it’s nice to see you again, congrats.”
“Thank you,” she replied with a warm smile. “How is your family? Faith and Natalie doing well? And little Ethan? And remind that son of mine to call me every now and again.”
“Of course,” Luke said easily. “But you know Casey.”
“I do,” Margo said, rolling her eyes and smiling. “That I definitely do. You have a good one on your hands, you know,” Margo added, glancing over at the dumfounded Noah.
“Oh,” Luke replied with a smile, “I had an inkling.” Noah flushed. Margo fortunately left them in peace a moment later, leaving Noah to just stare at Luke - unable to believe how everything turned out.
Without hesitation, Luke reached up and tugged Noah down again for another kiss, somehow this time even better than the time before - and Noah had an inkling too, that it would probably just better every time they tried it.
Noah’s name was called and they broke away, Noah glancing over his shoulder at an officer, needing a report. Luke rolled his eyes, but pulled back, still smiling slightly. “Go,” he said, nudging Noah in the right direction. Noah took a reluctant step back, before realizing something.
“Call me,” Noah said, smiling as he pressed one of his cards into Luke’s hand - a perfect mimicry of the first time they met - but this time, Noah’s cell number was scribbled hastily on the back.
Luke smiled up at him, smile sly, eyes bright and made a non-committal noise. “We’ll see,” he said, biting his lip. Noah swooped in for one last quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd of officers, Luke smiling after him.
-
-
-
epilogue
“Noah, you’re going to be late,” Luke reminds him smugly from the kitchen table, wrapped warmly in a bathrobe and slippers, hair still rumpled from bed, hands clutched around a giant mug of coffee.
“Hate you,” Noah mutters, struggling with his tie like every other morning of his entire life. “Hate you so much.”
“Doubt it,” Luke says around a grape, which he crunches almost as punctuation to his statement, his emphasis sending an affectionately amused expression across Noah’s face. Luke stands as he shoves a handful of grapes into his mouth and crosses to Noah, tugging at Noah’s tie and retying it until it lays perfectly against Noah’s throat, the light blue of the tie matching his eyes almost perfectly. “Dere yoo goh,” Luke mumbles around the twenty grapes he shoved into his mouth gleefully.
“Oh god, you are so unattractive right now,” Noah groans, laughing and hiding his face in his hand. Luke snorts around the mouthful of grapes he is currently storing in his cheeks like a chipmunk. He makes a noise of disagreement and Noah peeks his head above his fingers.
Luke tries to raise one eyebrow appealingly, but only succeeds in losing a few grapes from his mouth - they all land on Noah’s hand and arm and Noah squawks and bats them away, sending them rolling off of him and under the fridge and table.
“Why is my boyfriend so gross?” Noah half-wails, laughing despite this. Luke is chomping away at his huge mouthful of grapes, grinning wickedly. Finally swallowing hard, Luke smiles more broadly.
“Guess you just got lucky, huh?” Luke says sweetly, offering a grape from the bowl to Noah, eyes wide and innocent.
“Or someone up there hates me,” Noah mutters, still smiling. He reaches up to take the grape from Luke’s fingers, but Luke yanks it away and makes a noise of protest. When Noah’s brow furrows, Luke simply presses the grape to Noah’s lips and smiles.
Noah gets the picture.
One by one, Luke offers a few grapes to Noah, pressing them teasingly to his mouth and letting the tips of his fingers brush Noah’s lips and tongue as Noah swallows the grapes down.
“Have to go to work,” Noah says hoarsely, barely pulling away in the slightest. “Just because some of us are lazy-”
“Self-employed,” Luke corrected, smiling coyly. “Some of us are just luckier than others.”
Noah smiles. “Some of us are,” he agrees simply, drawing Luke in for a lengthy goodbye kiss.
(And another.)
(And another.)
-
now i'll be bold
as well as strong
use my head alongside my heart
so take my flesh
and fix my eyes
that tethered mind free from the lies
part one | part two | art post