OOOOH NO She Didn't!
OOOOOOOH YES I DID!
This chapter is MADE of squicks.
TITLE: Tread On Me 2
RATING: R
PAIRINGS: Nicholas/Danny, Andrew/Andy, Nicholas/Andrew, Tony/Andrew, Andy/Turner(ftw!)
WARNINGS: Manipulation, squicky pairings, language, sex-bunnies, AMAZING emo-ness.
A/N: Andrew and Andy are on the breaks. Who's in line to mend their broken hearts? A lot of people, apparently!
Soundtrack
La Dee Da - Hector On Stilts
Words So Leisured (Acoustic) - Franz Ferdinand
With My Voice - ActionReaction
Sinking Ship - Gosling
“Tony, can I talk to you for a second?” Nicholas asked, tapping the edge of Fisher’s desk to get his attention as Tony scribbled away at two of Doris’s botched reports.
Tony looked up sharply, giving Nicholas a calculating stare; he was busy, damn it, and of all the people in the world, Tony figured Nicholas would know how much of a pain in the ass it was to get interrupted in the middle of something complicated. Throwing his pen aside, he shoved his chair back and rose with a flourish.
“Fine,” Tony grumbled, “But you’re going to finish these if I don’t, Nick.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes; Tony always called him that recently, ever since he’d given him permission in a moment of weakness, and Nicholas was glad that Danny wasn’t around to hear it. Tony slouched into his office, falling into the seat that Andrew had occupied less than ten minutes before, as Nicholas shut the door behind them and took up his old place, still set beside Tony’s. He pursed his lips and regarded his fingernails with utmost interest, making Tony wait on purpose.
“What is it…Chief?” Tony finally grumbled. He’d been messy with the Name Game again; Nicholas hated the familiarity his officers used, even though it’d been years since he’d been working in a strictly structured station. Everyone assumed it was just something you couldn’t take out of a person.
“I was hoping you could spend some time with Andrew,” Nicholas replied, sitting back in his chair and staring imploringly at Tony, seeing the other officer’s look of trepidation. “He’s going through…a hard time right now, and I know you two used to be close.”
“That was some time ago…Chief,” Tony responded, purposely adding the honorific late.
“Ugh, fine, call me Nick, you wretched poof,” Nicholas sighed, ignoring Tony’s smug smile. “Just…give him a try, please? For the sake of Sandford. Andy’s a good detective, but Andrew’s the brains, and we all know it. We need him, alright?”
“Take one for the team, you mean?” Tony snickered. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip, slowly considering the repercussions if he accepted.
He and Andrew were the exact same age, their births separated by 2 days and 2 miles. They’d grown up together, gone to school together, found women and finally men together. Until they graduated and went to college, they were inseparable, but following those epic years and finding themselves reunited in Sandford, their attitudes were never the same. The weren’t friends anymore. They had changed.
Tony admitted to himself that, despite everything, he missed Andrew, or at least the way he used to be. He might as well try…
“If I do this,” Tony said slowly, flicking his eyes toward Nicholas now and again, “You can never tell Andrew we set it up, alright? It has to seem…right.”
“Of course,” Nicholas said, giving him a thin smile. Anything to make Andrew happy…But then again, why the hell did Nicholas care so much all of a sudden?
“Well, where’d he go, then?” Tony sighed, getting to his feet. “We’ve a lot of catching up to do…apparently.”
Andrew sent another rock skipping across the serene surface of the pond, hugging his knees to his chest as he settled back from the throw. It was only a bit chilly, summer just ending, and the leaves overhead were just beginning to show rust around their edges. Overhead, the sky was endless azure, deep and calm like the water at his feet. He cherished moments like these, when the world seemed cool and clean, and nothing could taint it.
Except the sound of approaching footsteps…
“Hey there,” Tony called, seeing Andrew twist around to stare accusingly at the interloper. Tony kept trudging, ignoring Andrew’s continued glower.
To be perfectly honest, Andrew was pleasantly surprised to see Tony. Years ago, he’d always looked to him for help and support, when they were cutting school and stealing over fences into pumpkin patches and corn fields, taking whatever was ripe. It wasn’t until they were older, when…
“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” Tony said gently, reaching Andrew’s side and interrupting his thoughts.
“S’better when it’s quiet,” Andrew muttered.
Tony chuckled dryly, sitting heavily in the grass at Andrew’s side, finding a flat rock and flipping it across the water. Of course, it went farther than Andrew’s had gone, but they never brought things like that up, even in the old days.
“You seemed pretty shook up earlier,” Tony said, staring across the water and into the distance. He inhaled deeply, letting the pre-autumn air fill his body with peaceful energy, giving Andrew an opportunity to speak. Of course, he held his tongue. Reaching over, Tony placed a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, making him jump; “You still are, too.”
“So what?” Andrew said, scowling. “What the hell is it to you?”
“Andy, don’t be like that,” Tony sighed imploringly. He purposely used the contracted version of Andrew’s name; he knew he liked it, but had dropped it for Cartwright’s sake. Now, Tony would give it back to him.
“Don’t call me that,” Andrew replied slowly. He turned to face Tony directly, giving him a ponderous look, as if wanting to hit him but afraid of him, too.
“That’s your name, Andy,” Tony smiled, playing dumb. Andrew stared flatly back, brow furrowed and mouth agape, switching between a glower and a confused vapidness.
“M’Andrew, idiot,” Andrew pressed. “And what’re you doing out here, anyway?”
“Andy,” Tony said, putting his hand purposely close to Andrew’s as he shifted closer, “You may be a bit daft, but I care about you. I…don’t like seeing you hurt, is all. I know we haven’t been the closest these past years, and that really hurts. I’ve missed you, and-”
Tony shut his mouth quickly. Yes, he was supposed to help Andrew, but he was letting too much out too quickly. Either Andrew would take it the wrong way, or he’d sock him in the jaw.
“Go on,” Andrew cut into his worrying. Looking up, Tony saw Andrew’s eyes were no longer deadened, his posture less defensive. Could it be…?
“I…you went to Nick first,” Tony murmured, looking away. He was giving up a part of himself he hadn’t meant to, letting Andrew know the truth when he’d wanted him at arm’s length. That was why they’d stopped being friends, wasn’t it? “That really hurt, I guess, knowing you trusted him more than me. I…I know you…Well, you’re you, Andy, and I’m…boring, or…I don’t know…But we used to be-”
He was silenced quickly as Andrew grabbed his jaw and tipped his head back, bringing his face close enough to Tony’s that their breath intermingled. Andrew regarded him for a moment before reaching up with his free hand and plucking the glasses from Tony’s nose, before leaning in and pressing his mouth to Tony’s.
It felt so much like coming home, tasting the familiar essence of Tony’s tongue, feeling that distinct musculature in his arms, the strange jump his heart sometimes made in its normal pattern. Memories of youthful summers flooded back to him, trapped in Tony’s embrace, just like so many times before in corn fields and pumpkin patches. They had taken what was good, what was ripe, what was worth having. They had taken each other on a whim, on a passion, out of need eventually. So much of Tony became so much of him, and Andrew could feel the old scars from that loss opening as they embraced, mutually reaching to rebuild the old connections.
He was giving himself away too quickly, yes, but in many ways, he told himself, he was simply returning to what was lost.
Andy was enraged.
Three years he’d wasted on Andrew, three years filled with conflict and agony, three years he could never have back and that he’d never wish to repeat. Now, though, he was agonizingly adrift, aching for someone to hurt or to hold, and someone to do the same to him. Despite Andrew’s suspicions, Andy wasn’t seeing anyone else, and he’d no current intention to, either.
He slammed his open palm against the side of the filing cabinets in their office, making the unit rock dangerously before settling back with a cacophonous crash.
Andy threw himself into Andrew’s seat and rested his head on the desk, staring forlornly at the wall. What was Andrew thinking, anyway, getting all bent out of shape over who Andy chose to associate with? It wasn’t his fault Andrew was such an over-protective prick. And besides, Andy was…well, a bit lascivious, and Andrew wasn’t quite so fond of sex as his younger partner-
“Not anymore,” Andy breathed, the cold metal desktop making it hard to annunciate, even though he was only speaking to himself.
They weren’t partners anymore, not in that sense, at least. In Andy’s mind, they still were, though, they were. Even though Andrew really over-reacted, even though he was a total twat, even though he couldn’t seem to talk to Andy without insulting him on a moment-to-moment basis, Andy still loved the wanker. He still loved Andrew.
He sat up, rubbing his surprisingly numb cheek, and stared blankly at the door. He’d give Andrew a chance to come back, of course. He’d act as if nothing were wrong, ignore Andrew’s inevitable questions and glances, and he’d find himself somebody else in the meantime. He’d make Andrew jealous. What better way to get back at him?
“What d’you think’s going on today?” Evan half-muttered, only partially addressing his twin as they sat at the reception window and read conflicting authors, as usual. They didn’t go shopping together, yet they always ended up with strangely disassociated material.
“I’unno,” Owen grumbled, licking his index finger before flipping his page back. Sometimes, he really just liked to re-read chapters before moving on, in case he missed something. Consequently, he found most authors to be annoyingly redundant in their writing.
“Doris said something about Andrew being all bent out of shape,” Evan pressed, refusing to let his curly-haired twin drop the matter without further discussion. “And I saw Andy having at Tony earlier. You don’t suppose-?”
“What, the benders are trading?” Owen chuckled, seeing Evan’s subsequent scowl.
“S’not nice, Enn,” Evan grumbled, making a show of going back to his reading.
“Piss of, Ev,” Owen grinned, feeling genuinely smug for once at his brother’s expense.
A moment later, Evan dropped his book over his knee, biting the inside of his cheek and screwing up his face in thought. Owen knew what was coming-
“D’you really think they’re trading?” Evan asked.
“Ugh, I think I’m reading,” Owen sighed, dropping his book and looking pointedly at his brother. “F’you’re so concerned about it, go ask one of ‘em. I dunno. Nobody tells me nothin’ ‘round here, anyway.”
“You’re always saying that,” Evan replied, picking up his book. “Well, if they are-”
“Reading here,” Owen said forcefully, reducing his brother to muttering. At least he had some peace and quiet-
A tremendous crash shook the ceiling overhead, making Evan yelp and Owen leap out of his seat, both of their books tumbling to the floor.
“What the hell was that??!?” Owen shouted, his heart racing.
“Christ, sounds like Andy killed someone up there,” Evan panted, clutching his chest. “Oi, where’re you going?”
He was yelling at Owen, who had just shot down the hall in what Evan knew to be his angry stride. Apparently, he was about to hand Andy his ass. So be it. Evan shrugged, picked up his book, and licked his forefinger before turning to the next page.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” Owen snapped, nearly kicking in the CID door.
Andy cocked an eyebrow at him from where he sat behind his desk, midway through procuring a cigarette from his shirt pocket.
“M’sitting,” he replied with a sneer. “What’re you doin’ up here, Sergeant?”
Owen stepped into the office, letting the door swing shut behind him, crossed his arms and put his back to the wall just beside the door frame, giving Andy an accusatory glare.
“You’re having a fit, aren’t you?” Owen said slowly.
Andy scoffed, placing a cigarette to his lips before fishing through his pockets for his lighter. “Everybody gets pissed, mate. S’nothing new.” He kept digging, every pocket turning up empty. Where the hell could he have left it-? That’s right, he lent his last one to Andrew…
Owen cleared his throat, making Andy glance up at him. He tossed his Zippo over the desk with a flick of the wrist, Andy catching it without consciously thinking to. Their eyes met for a second too long before Andy smirked, inclining his head in thanks, flipping open the lighter and taking a prolonged nicotine drag before tossing the lighter onto the desk with a clatter.
Owen knew he would hate himself before he even opened his mouth, but Andy wasn’t acting like his normal, annoyingly sanguine self. Having the inklings of a conscience, Owen felt compelled to inquire.
“What’s the matter, Cartwright?” Owen sighed, shoving off the wall and snatching up his lighter before sitting heavily in the chair opposite Andy.
“Sorry?” Andy asked,a hint of smile in his tone. “Nothing’s wrong-”
“Come off it,” Owen said, waving a hand dismissively at Andy. “You’re acting like a ponce and Wainwright is menstruating. You girls broke up, didn’t you?”
Andy gave him a disheveling look but secretly appreciated the metaphors. And Andrew said he acted like a girl…
“Andrew and I…aren’t together anymore,” Andy said gently, finding the words harder to get out than he’d anticipated. His eyes began to burn and his sinuses welled, making him sniffle and wipe at his face angrily. Fuck’s sake, he wasn’t a little girl! What was he crying about?
Owen’s stomach lurched. He couldn’t stand seeing people cry, especially not grown men, but the nausea filling his mouth with acrid bile was only half from personal dogma. Part of him genuinely pitied Cartwright. Andy. He felt bad for Andy.
“C’mon, Andy,” Owen said quietly, trying to look compassionate; it was more a weird squint, but it made Andy laugh, which threw Owen for a loop. “What’re you laughin’ about? Are you going mad?”
“No, no, s’nothing like that,” Andy sniffled. He looked at his lap, fidgeting, thinking, daring…
He got up and came around the desk, Owen pushing his chair back until it almost hit the low shelf at his back. Andy perched on the front lip of the desk, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. He wanted to play this one cool, but his composure was threatening to fracture in earnest.
‘Fuck, is he coming on to me?’ Owen wondered. He didn’t really know what he thought about that. Really. He’d never considered kissing anyone of the same gender. Sure, he’d once had a nightmare than he was trapped in a dog suit, getting walked by Frank, with Andrew and Fisher trying to squeeze him, but that was after too many screwdrivers and a few ‘special’ brownies.
“I…I just…” Andy sighed, weighing his horrible acting skills against his real emotions, praying he wouldn’t have to tease Owen too much, because he didn’t have it in him. In the back of his mind, images of Andrew started to form, like silken shadows condensing into picturesque perfection; little smiles, softly whispered words, warm hands comforting and clutching. “We were so…I dunno,” Andy choked, the weight of his sorrow finally catching up, despite his façade. He let out a weak whimper and curled into himself, shuddering with stifled sobs.
Owen hesitated for only a moment before getting to his feet, looking anxiously at Cartwright. What the hell was he supposed to do? What did you do at times like these? He’d never fretted over ex’s like this, what was Cartwright’s problem? FUCK!
In desperation, he threw his arms around Andy and pulled him close, shushing him as he rocked gently from side to side, like he’d done once with his teething nephew. He only knew how to deal with non-verbal persons and sexual partners, not co-workers.
He stroked Andy’s hair, finding comfort in it as well. On a whim, he turned his face and felt the detective curly hair brush against his nose, catching hints of lilac and vanilla, some sort of strange product. It was…nice.
Andy choked and tried to bite back his tears, but feeling himself so cared for, memories of Andrew rushed back double-quick, like a thousand lances slicing bits of flesh from his body and carrying them off.
“I-I-I…I c-c-can’t-” Andy hiccoughed, shaking his head slowly against Owen’s chest. He clutched the Sergeant’s vest desperately, as if he would fall into eternity without someone to anchor him.
“You’re alright,” Owen reassured, repeating it over and over, continuing to shush him. “I’ve got you.”
Without thinking, he bowed his head and pressed his lips to Andy’s temple, just as he did with his nephew, but realized too late this wasn’t a child, but an adult, and a slightly homosexual one at that. Would he take it the wrong way? Did he mean it the wrong way…?
Andy tipped his head back, giving Owen a ponderous look, the two of them studying one another’s faces for minuscule clues. Neither of them knew what to do.
It was Owen who moved first, coming closer by quick degrees until their mouths met, slowly touching lips and tasting foreign flesh. A jolt rushed through their bodies, like fire and lightning at once, making them grip tighter from the shock. Owen’s fingers tangled in Andy’s hair and pulled him to his feet, controlling the angle of his head, leading him backward until Owen felt the wall at his back and spun to pin Andy. Their bodies, flush together, betrayed emotions they never recognized in each other’s company, but now were painfully exposed. Owen tried to pull back, afraid and ashamed, but Andy grabbed his hip, cupped his ass, yanked him back.
Smiling to himself mentally, Andy surreptitiously reached down and to his right, flipping the lock on the office door.
This chapter is MADE of squicks.
TITLE: Tread On Me 2
RATING: R
PAIRINGS: Nicholas/Danny, Andrew/Andy, Nicholas/Andrew, Tony/Andrew, Andy/Turner(ftw!)
WARNINGS: Manipulation, squicky pairings, language, sex-bunnies, AMAZING emo-ness.
A/N: Andrew and Andy are on the breaks. Who's in line to mend their broken hearts? A lot of people, apparently!
Soundtrack
La Dee Da - Hector On Stilts
Words So Leisured (Acoustic) - Franz Ferdinand
With My Voice - ActionReaction
Sinking Ship - Gosling
“Tony, can I talk to you for a second?” Nicholas asked, tapping the edge of Fisher’s desk to get his attention as Tony scribbled away at two of Doris’s botched reports.
Tony looked up sharply, giving Nicholas a calculating stare; he was busy, damn it, and of all the people in the world, Tony figured Nicholas would know how much of a pain in the ass it was to get interrupted in the middle of something complicated. Throwing his pen aside, he shoved his chair back and rose with a flourish.
“Fine,” Tony grumbled, “But you’re going to finish these if I don’t, Nick.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes; Tony always called him that recently, ever since he’d given him permission in a moment of weakness, and Nicholas was glad that Danny wasn’t around to hear it. Tony slouched into his office, falling into the seat that Andrew had occupied less than ten minutes before, as Nicholas shut the door behind them and took up his old place, still set beside Tony’s. He pursed his lips and regarded his fingernails with utmost interest, making Tony wait on purpose.
“What is it…Chief?” Tony finally grumbled. He’d been messy with the Name Game again; Nicholas hated the familiarity his officers used, even though it’d been years since he’d been working in a strictly structured station. Everyone assumed it was just something you couldn’t take out of a person.
“I was hoping you could spend some time with Andrew,” Nicholas replied, sitting back in his chair and staring imploringly at Tony, seeing the other officer’s look of trepidation. “He’s going through…a hard time right now, and I know you two used to be close.”
“That was some time ago…Chief,” Tony responded, purposely adding the honorific late.
“Ugh, fine, call me Nick, you wretched poof,” Nicholas sighed, ignoring Tony’s smug smile. “Just…give him a try, please? For the sake of Sandford. Andy’s a good detective, but Andrew’s the brains, and we all know it. We need him, alright?”
“Take one for the team, you mean?” Tony snickered. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip, slowly considering the repercussions if he accepted.
He and Andrew were the exact same age, their births separated by 2 days and 2 miles. They’d grown up together, gone to school together, found women and finally men together. Until they graduated and went to college, they were inseparable, but following those epic years and finding themselves reunited in Sandford, their attitudes were never the same. The weren’t friends anymore. They had changed.
Tony admitted to himself that, despite everything, he missed Andrew, or at least the way he used to be. He might as well try…
“If I do this,” Tony said slowly, flicking his eyes toward Nicholas now and again, “You can never tell Andrew we set it up, alright? It has to seem…right.”
“Of course,” Nicholas said, giving him a thin smile. Anything to make Andrew happy…But then again, why the hell did Nicholas care so much all of a sudden?
“Well, where’d he go, then?” Tony sighed, getting to his feet. “We’ve a lot of catching up to do…apparently.”
Andrew sent another rock skipping across the serene surface of the pond, hugging his knees to his chest as he settled back from the throw. It was only a bit chilly, summer just ending, and the leaves overhead were just beginning to show rust around their edges. Overhead, the sky was endless azure, deep and calm like the water at his feet. He cherished moments like these, when the world seemed cool and clean, and nothing could taint it.
Except the sound of approaching footsteps…
“Hey there,” Tony called, seeing Andrew twist around to stare accusingly at the interloper. Tony kept trudging, ignoring Andrew’s continued glower.
To be perfectly honest, Andrew was pleasantly surprised to see Tony. Years ago, he’d always looked to him for help and support, when they were cutting school and stealing over fences into pumpkin patches and corn fields, taking whatever was ripe. It wasn’t until they were older, when…
“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” Tony said gently, reaching Andrew’s side and interrupting his thoughts.
“S’better when it’s quiet,” Andrew muttered.
Tony chuckled dryly, sitting heavily in the grass at Andrew’s side, finding a flat rock and flipping it across the water. Of course, it went farther than Andrew’s had gone, but they never brought things like that up, even in the old days.
“You seemed pretty shook up earlier,” Tony said, staring across the water and into the distance. He inhaled deeply, letting the pre-autumn air fill his body with peaceful energy, giving Andrew an opportunity to speak. Of course, he held his tongue. Reaching over, Tony placed a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, making him jump; “You still are, too.”
“So what?” Andrew said, scowling. “What the hell is it to you?”
“Andy, don’t be like that,” Tony sighed imploringly. He purposely used the contracted version of Andrew’s name; he knew he liked it, but had dropped it for Cartwright’s sake. Now, Tony would give it back to him.
“Don’t call me that,” Andrew replied slowly. He turned to face Tony directly, giving him a ponderous look, as if wanting to hit him but afraid of him, too.
“That’s your name, Andy,” Tony smiled, playing dumb. Andrew stared flatly back, brow furrowed and mouth agape, switching between a glower and a confused vapidness.
“M’Andrew, idiot,” Andrew pressed. “And what’re you doing out here, anyway?”
“Andy,” Tony said, putting his hand purposely close to Andrew’s as he shifted closer, “You may be a bit daft, but I care about you. I…don’t like seeing you hurt, is all. I know we haven’t been the closest these past years, and that really hurts. I’ve missed you, and-”
Tony shut his mouth quickly. Yes, he was supposed to help Andrew, but he was letting too much out too quickly. Either Andrew would take it the wrong way, or he’d sock him in the jaw.
“Go on,” Andrew cut into his worrying. Looking up, Tony saw Andrew’s eyes were no longer deadened, his posture less defensive. Could it be…?
“I…you went to Nick first,” Tony murmured, looking away. He was giving up a part of himself he hadn’t meant to, letting Andrew know the truth when he’d wanted him at arm’s length. That was why they’d stopped being friends, wasn’t it? “That really hurt, I guess, knowing you trusted him more than me. I…I know you…Well, you’re you, Andy, and I’m…boring, or…I don’t know…But we used to be-”
He was silenced quickly as Andrew grabbed his jaw and tipped his head back, bringing his face close enough to Tony’s that their breath intermingled. Andrew regarded him for a moment before reaching up with his free hand and plucking the glasses from Tony’s nose, before leaning in and pressing his mouth to Tony’s.
It felt so much like coming home, tasting the familiar essence of Tony’s tongue, feeling that distinct musculature in his arms, the strange jump his heart sometimes made in its normal pattern. Memories of youthful summers flooded back to him, trapped in Tony’s embrace, just like so many times before in corn fields and pumpkin patches. They had taken what was good, what was ripe, what was worth having. They had taken each other on a whim, on a passion, out of need eventually. So much of Tony became so much of him, and Andrew could feel the old scars from that loss opening as they embraced, mutually reaching to rebuild the old connections.
He was giving himself away too quickly, yes, but in many ways, he told himself, he was simply returning to what was lost.
Andy was enraged.
Three years he’d wasted on Andrew, three years filled with conflict and agony, three years he could never have back and that he’d never wish to repeat. Now, though, he was agonizingly adrift, aching for someone to hurt or to hold, and someone to do the same to him. Despite Andrew’s suspicions, Andy wasn’t seeing anyone else, and he’d no current intention to, either.
He slammed his open palm against the side of the filing cabinets in their office, making the unit rock dangerously before settling back with a cacophonous crash.
Andy threw himself into Andrew’s seat and rested his head on the desk, staring forlornly at the wall. What was Andrew thinking, anyway, getting all bent out of shape over who Andy chose to associate with? It wasn’t his fault Andrew was such an over-protective prick. And besides, Andy was…well, a bit lascivious, and Andrew wasn’t quite so fond of sex as his younger partner-
“Not anymore,” Andy breathed, the cold metal desktop making it hard to annunciate, even though he was only speaking to himself.
They weren’t partners anymore, not in that sense, at least. In Andy’s mind, they still were, though, they were. Even though Andrew really over-reacted, even though he was a total twat, even though he couldn’t seem to talk to Andy without insulting him on a moment-to-moment basis, Andy still loved the wanker. He still loved Andrew.
He sat up, rubbing his surprisingly numb cheek, and stared blankly at the door. He’d give Andrew a chance to come back, of course. He’d act as if nothing were wrong, ignore Andrew’s inevitable questions and glances, and he’d find himself somebody else in the meantime. He’d make Andrew jealous. What better way to get back at him?
“What d’you think’s going on today?” Evan half-muttered, only partially addressing his twin as they sat at the reception window and read conflicting authors, as usual. They didn’t go shopping together, yet they always ended up with strangely disassociated material.
“I’unno,” Owen grumbled, licking his index finger before flipping his page back. Sometimes, he really just liked to re-read chapters before moving on, in case he missed something. Consequently, he found most authors to be annoyingly redundant in their writing.
“Doris said something about Andrew being all bent out of shape,” Evan pressed, refusing to let his curly-haired twin drop the matter without further discussion. “And I saw Andy having at Tony earlier. You don’t suppose-?”
“What, the benders are trading?” Owen chuckled, seeing Evan’s subsequent scowl.
“S’not nice, Enn,” Evan grumbled, making a show of going back to his reading.
“Piss of, Ev,” Owen grinned, feeling genuinely smug for once at his brother’s expense.
A moment later, Evan dropped his book over his knee, biting the inside of his cheek and screwing up his face in thought. Owen knew what was coming-
“D’you really think they’re trading?” Evan asked.
“Ugh, I think I’m reading,” Owen sighed, dropping his book and looking pointedly at his brother. “F’you’re so concerned about it, go ask one of ‘em. I dunno. Nobody tells me nothin’ ‘round here, anyway.”
“You’re always saying that,” Evan replied, picking up his book. “Well, if they are-”
“Reading here,” Owen said forcefully, reducing his brother to muttering. At least he had some peace and quiet-
A tremendous crash shook the ceiling overhead, making Evan yelp and Owen leap out of his seat, both of their books tumbling to the floor.
“What the hell was that??!?” Owen shouted, his heart racing.
“Christ, sounds like Andy killed someone up there,” Evan panted, clutching his chest. “Oi, where’re you going?”
He was yelling at Owen, who had just shot down the hall in what Evan knew to be his angry stride. Apparently, he was about to hand Andy his ass. So be it. Evan shrugged, picked up his book, and licked his forefinger before turning to the next page.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” Owen snapped, nearly kicking in the CID door.
Andy cocked an eyebrow at him from where he sat behind his desk, midway through procuring a cigarette from his shirt pocket.
“M’sitting,” he replied with a sneer. “What’re you doin’ up here, Sergeant?”
Owen stepped into the office, letting the door swing shut behind him, crossed his arms and put his back to the wall just beside the door frame, giving Andy an accusatory glare.
“You’re having a fit, aren’t you?” Owen said slowly.
Andy scoffed, placing a cigarette to his lips before fishing through his pockets for his lighter. “Everybody gets pissed, mate. S’nothing new.” He kept digging, every pocket turning up empty. Where the hell could he have left it-? That’s right, he lent his last one to Andrew…
Owen cleared his throat, making Andy glance up at him. He tossed his Zippo over the desk with a flick of the wrist, Andy catching it without consciously thinking to. Their eyes met for a second too long before Andy smirked, inclining his head in thanks, flipping open the lighter and taking a prolonged nicotine drag before tossing the lighter onto the desk with a clatter.
Owen knew he would hate himself before he even opened his mouth, but Andy wasn’t acting like his normal, annoyingly sanguine self. Having the inklings of a conscience, Owen felt compelled to inquire.
“What’s the matter, Cartwright?” Owen sighed, shoving off the wall and snatching up his lighter before sitting heavily in the chair opposite Andy.
“Sorry?” Andy asked,a hint of smile in his tone. “Nothing’s wrong-”
“Come off it,” Owen said, waving a hand dismissively at Andy. “You’re acting like a ponce and Wainwright is menstruating. You girls broke up, didn’t you?”
Andy gave him a disheveling look but secretly appreciated the metaphors. And Andrew said he acted like a girl…
“Andrew and I…aren’t together anymore,” Andy said gently, finding the words harder to get out than he’d anticipated. His eyes began to burn and his sinuses welled, making him sniffle and wipe at his face angrily. Fuck’s sake, he wasn’t a little girl! What was he crying about?
Owen’s stomach lurched. He couldn’t stand seeing people cry, especially not grown men, but the nausea filling his mouth with acrid bile was only half from personal dogma. Part of him genuinely pitied Cartwright. Andy. He felt bad for Andy.
“C’mon, Andy,” Owen said quietly, trying to look compassionate; it was more a weird squint, but it made Andy laugh, which threw Owen for a loop. “What’re you laughin’ about? Are you going mad?”
“No, no, s’nothing like that,” Andy sniffled. He looked at his lap, fidgeting, thinking, daring…
He got up and came around the desk, Owen pushing his chair back until it almost hit the low shelf at his back. Andy perched on the front lip of the desk, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. He wanted to play this one cool, but his composure was threatening to fracture in earnest.
‘Fuck, is he coming on to me?’ Owen wondered. He didn’t really know what he thought about that. Really. He’d never considered kissing anyone of the same gender. Sure, he’d once had a nightmare than he was trapped in a dog suit, getting walked by Frank, with Andrew and Fisher trying to squeeze him, but that was after too many screwdrivers and a few ‘special’ brownies.
“I…I just…” Andy sighed, weighing his horrible acting skills against his real emotions, praying he wouldn’t have to tease Owen too much, because he didn’t have it in him. In the back of his mind, images of Andrew started to form, like silken shadows condensing into picturesque perfection; little smiles, softly whispered words, warm hands comforting and clutching. “We were so…I dunno,” Andy choked, the weight of his sorrow finally catching up, despite his façade. He let out a weak whimper and curled into himself, shuddering with stifled sobs.
Owen hesitated for only a moment before getting to his feet, looking anxiously at Cartwright. What the hell was he supposed to do? What did you do at times like these? He’d never fretted over ex’s like this, what was Cartwright’s problem? FUCK!
In desperation, he threw his arms around Andy and pulled him close, shushing him as he rocked gently from side to side, like he’d done once with his teething nephew. He only knew how to deal with non-verbal persons and sexual partners, not co-workers.
He stroked Andy’s hair, finding comfort in it as well. On a whim, he turned his face and felt the detective curly hair brush against his nose, catching hints of lilac and vanilla, some sort of strange product. It was…nice.
Andy choked and tried to bite back his tears, but feeling himself so cared for, memories of Andrew rushed back double-quick, like a thousand lances slicing bits of flesh from his body and carrying them off.
“I-I-I…I c-c-can’t-” Andy hiccoughed, shaking his head slowly against Owen’s chest. He clutched the Sergeant’s vest desperately, as if he would fall into eternity without someone to anchor him.
“You’re alright,” Owen reassured, repeating it over and over, continuing to shush him. “I’ve got you.”
Without thinking, he bowed his head and pressed his lips to Andy’s temple, just as he did with his nephew, but realized too late this wasn’t a child, but an adult, and a slightly homosexual one at that. Would he take it the wrong way? Did he mean it the wrong way…?
Andy tipped his head back, giving Owen a ponderous look, the two of them studying one another’s faces for minuscule clues. Neither of them knew what to do.
It was Owen who moved first, coming closer by quick degrees until their mouths met, slowly touching lips and tasting foreign flesh. A jolt rushed through their bodies, like fire and lightning at once, making them grip tighter from the shock. Owen’s fingers tangled in Andy’s hair and pulled him to his feet, controlling the angle of his head, leading him backward until Owen felt the wall at his back and spun to pin Andy. Their bodies, flush together, betrayed emotions they never recognized in each other’s company, but now were painfully exposed. Owen tried to pull back, afraid and ashamed, but Andy grabbed his hip, cupped his ass, yanked him back.
Smiling to himself mentally, Andy surreptitiously reached down and to his right, flipping the lock on the office door.