Scent of Fear: Chapter Twenty-Eight
Title: Scent of Fear
Chapter: Twenty-Eight
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway/Green Screen
Genre: Slash; Murder mystery; Thriller
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan. Drew/Greg. Colin/Wayne.
Warnings: One use of strong language and suggestions of sex.
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AU. A fic based on Kay Hooper’s Fear series.
This chapter has a LOT of recapping and not a lot of forward momentum, but it does pave the way for Karen's plot. And some Drew for BK :)
-----
Drew gently stroked the edge of the picture frame as he gazed lovingly at Greg's image. A warm tear dropped down his cheek.
"It was you, wasn't it?" He listened for a response but none came. He sniffed and smiled, "You want me to figure it out myself? Sorry, honey, but it's pretty damn clear. If you wanted to be subtle, you shouldn't have teased me in the bathroom yesterday morning."
Yesterday morning? It couldn't have been... So much had happened since then, it felt like a month ago. But it hadn't even been forty-eight hours.
Less than forty-eight hours ago he had been splashing freezing cold water on himself, trying to rid himself of his hangover, like life was normal. Then a cop and a psychic had entered his house, reopened Greg's case and changed Drew's perception of 'normal' forever.
Less than forty-eight hours ago he had been talking to two strangers in a bar, spilling his heart, treating them like old friends...until he accused one of them of murder. And now they were guests in his home.
Yes, Drew Carey's life would be very, very different from that moment on. And he knew it even then.
He jumped as the fridge door opened, spilling artificial light across the darkened floor. He glanced up towards the ceiling and choked back his laughter, "Very funny, Greg."
-----
'The Game.'
Wayne underlined the two words with his pencil, then tapped it on the edge of the paper.
"Games..." he muttered under his breath, "Games. Playing...play...fun...sport....ru-rules!"
He scribbled the word 'rules' just underneath the title then paused. He didn't know the rules this guy was playing by, if in fact he was playing by rules at all; if he was willing to commit murder, what would rules matter? He was already defying a pretty big one.
He took a sip of coffee. What had Chip seen? Wayne against who they had assumed was the murderer, playing chess.
Fuck.
Wayne didn't know anything about chess. The only rules he had subconsciously absorbed from vaguely listening to others talk about it were that the queen was the most powerful piece on the board and pawns were usually sacrificed.
After a moment's thought he wrote down 'PAWNS', and underneath that, Greg's name. One pawn. That didn't seem right. There had to be more, some other killings that had similar circumstances. He flicked open Greg's file and started to read, yawning heavily.
"Come to bed," Colin whispered in his ear, tenderly rubbing Wayne's tense shoulders.
"I can't, I need to-" he stopped himself. The phrase 'I need to work' had got him in trouble with Colin before, and was the reason he had taken off last night. Wayne clicked the desk light off and swiveled his chair around, taking the older man's hands in his own, "I'll be right in."
Colin smiled and kissed him lightly on the forehead before heading towards the bedroom. Wayne sat still for a little while. He had the uneasy feeling he was being watched; if there was someone out there playing a game with him, he or she would want to know what Wayne's next move was and when he was going to make it. He blinked and shook the thoughts from his head, realising that they weren't going to put him in a particularly sexy mood.
"If you are out there watching me, you sick bastard," he muttered to himself, "I'll give you a show." And he turned into the bedroom to join Colin.
-----
"We should visit Karen tomorrow."
Brad looked up at Ryan without removing his head from his chest.
"You reminded me this afternoon at the apartment," Ryan continued, "We should see how she's doing."
Brad bit back a tear, "She won't know we're there."
"Still," Ryan said, obviously hiding his own anguish, "We should go."
Brad nodded, "Yeah. Good idea."
Ryan sighed dolefully and held Brad a tiny bit closer to his body. This was proving to be one of the most depressing and taxing weeks of his life; passing out, hearing voices, murder accusations, psychics, mediums, illness and death...
Yet as long as Brad was near, he kept his hope. He pressed a kiss into the younger man's soft, slightly curly hair, "I love you."
"I love you, too."
There was that sincerity again. Ryan smiled, and within five minutes they were both sound asleep in each others' arms.
.x.Sess.x.
Chapter: Twenty-Eight
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway/Green Screen
Genre: Slash; Murder mystery; Thriller
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan. Drew/Greg. Colin/Wayne.
Warnings: One use of strong language and suggestions of sex.
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AU. A fic based on Kay Hooper’s Fear series.
This chapter has a LOT of recapping and not a lot of forward momentum, but it does pave the way for Karen's plot. And some Drew for BK :)
-----
Drew gently stroked the edge of the picture frame as he gazed lovingly at Greg's image. A warm tear dropped down his cheek.
"It was you, wasn't it?" He listened for a response but none came. He sniffed and smiled, "You want me to figure it out myself? Sorry, honey, but it's pretty damn clear. If you wanted to be subtle, you shouldn't have teased me in the bathroom yesterday morning."
Yesterday morning? It couldn't have been... So much had happened since then, it felt like a month ago. But it hadn't even been forty-eight hours.
Less than forty-eight hours ago he had been splashing freezing cold water on himself, trying to rid himself of his hangover, like life was normal. Then a cop and a psychic had entered his house, reopened Greg's case and changed Drew's perception of 'normal' forever.
Less than forty-eight hours ago he had been talking to two strangers in a bar, spilling his heart, treating them like old friends...until he accused one of them of murder. And now they were guests in his home.
Yes, Drew Carey's life would be very, very different from that moment on. And he knew it even then.
He jumped as the fridge door opened, spilling artificial light across the darkened floor. He glanced up towards the ceiling and choked back his laughter, "Very funny, Greg."
-----
'The Game.'
Wayne underlined the two words with his pencil, then tapped it on the edge of the paper.
"Games..." he muttered under his breath, "Games. Playing...play...fun...sport....ru-rules!"
He scribbled the word 'rules' just underneath the title then paused. He didn't know the rules this guy was playing by, if in fact he was playing by rules at all; if he was willing to commit murder, what would rules matter? He was already defying a pretty big one.
He took a sip of coffee. What had Chip seen? Wayne against who they had assumed was the murderer, playing chess.
Fuck.
Wayne didn't know anything about chess. The only rules he had subconsciously absorbed from vaguely listening to others talk about it were that the queen was the most powerful piece on the board and pawns were usually sacrificed.
After a moment's thought he wrote down 'PAWNS', and underneath that, Greg's name. One pawn. That didn't seem right. There had to be more, some other killings that had similar circumstances. He flicked open Greg's file and started to read, yawning heavily.
"Come to bed," Colin whispered in his ear, tenderly rubbing Wayne's tense shoulders.
"I can't, I need to-" he stopped himself. The phrase 'I need to work' had got him in trouble with Colin before, and was the reason he had taken off last night. Wayne clicked the desk light off and swiveled his chair around, taking the older man's hands in his own, "I'll be right in."
Colin smiled and kissed him lightly on the forehead before heading towards the bedroom. Wayne sat still for a little while. He had the uneasy feeling he was being watched; if there was someone out there playing a game with him, he or she would want to know what Wayne's next move was and when he was going to make it. He blinked and shook the thoughts from his head, realising that they weren't going to put him in a particularly sexy mood.
"If you are out there watching me, you sick bastard," he muttered to himself, "I'll give you a show." And he turned into the bedroom to join Colin.
-----
"We should visit Karen tomorrow."
Brad looked up at Ryan without removing his head from his chest.
"You reminded me this afternoon at the apartment," Ryan continued, "We should see how she's doing."
Brad bit back a tear, "She won't know we're there."
"Still," Ryan said, obviously hiding his own anguish, "We should go."
Brad nodded, "Yeah. Good idea."
Ryan sighed dolefully and held Brad a tiny bit closer to his body. This was proving to be one of the most depressing and taxing weeks of his life; passing out, hearing voices, murder accusations, psychics, mediums, illness and death...
Yet as long as Brad was near, he kept his hope. He pressed a kiss into the younger man's soft, slightly curly hair, "I love you."
"I love you, too."
There was that sincerity again. Ryan smiled, and within five minutes they were both sound asleep in each others' arms.
.x.Sess.x.