atwt - i fell heavy into your arms (1/2) - nukebigbang
Title: i fell heavy into your arms
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
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.
i fell heavy into your arms;
-
i came home
like a stone
and i fell heavy into your arms
these days of dust
which we've known
will blow away with this new sun
-
“What’ve we got Doc?” Dusty asked as he lifted the police tape to help Noah duck his lanky frame under it with practiced ease.
“Surprisingly enough Donovan, it’s a dead body,” Reid drawled, giving Dusty his standard ‘are you seriously that stupid?’ look.
“What’s surprising is the fact that I haven’t killed you yet Oliver,” Dusty said pleasantly, making a few of the surrounding beat officers chuckle.
“No, the most surprising fact is how long you’ve survived despite the fact you only seem to be functioning on two brain cells rubbing furiously together.”
“Can you guys keep your verbal foreplay to a minimum?” Noah cut in absentmindedly, his focus on the body in front of him. “We kind of have work to do.” Dusty and Reid both gave him dirty looks but Noah hardly noticed.
“The kid who found the body is in the next room over,” Reid added a moment later, gesturing to the door that led to the land of secretary cubicles.
“Kid?” Noah asked, bracing himself for the worst. Would they have to call Special Victims?
“Eh, like your age,” Reid said blithely, ignoring the scowl Noah sent his way. He hadn’t been a kid since about the age of eleven when his dad handed him a gun and told him he was going to learn how to shoot and then become a cop. “Short blonde, cute in that yappy dog way.” Considering Reid would sooner kill a tiny fluffy dog than be in its presence for an extended period of time, Noah deduced this was not a compliment.
“Not your type then Doc?” Dusty smirked, leaning his elbows on the body stretcher the morgue assistants had brought in and resting his head on his hands cheerfully. Reid glanced up at Dusty, who was now fluttering his eyelashes obnoxiously down at the coroner.
A wicked smirk crossed Reid’s face and he stood swiftly and crossed to where Dusty was standing. “No,” Reid replied slowly, his voice deep and thoughtful. “My type is definitely… rougher,” he leaned closer to Dusty’s face, which had gone pale, “Tougher… more…” Reid paused for a long moment, the room silent as Reid’s lips drew closer to Dusty, who was frozen in place. “More… fucking moronic Donovan!” Reid bellowed suddenly, shoving at the rolling stretcher and sending Dusty to the ground in a heap. “Get the fuck away from my body,” Reid snapped.
Dusty stared up at the looming coroner for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Sure thing Doc,” Dusty said, smirking as he stood and brushed himself off as Reid rolled his eyes and turned to crouch beside the body of a tall blonde man in an extremely expensive suit, his watch worth more than Noah’s yearly salary.
“How long you been a fag, Oliver?” snickered Wallace, the beat cop who’d been the first car to the scene. His partner, Davidson, snorted into the coffee he was holding.
“Since birth, thanks Wallace,” Reid replied, rolling his eyes. The two cops paused and glanced at the coroner.
“For real?” Davidson asked, his expression shuttered.
“Yeah Davidson, for realsies,” Reid replied in a dry tone that said clearly, fuck off and die.
Noah ignored them all and crossed to the far room that Reid had gestured to, nudging the door open to reveal several older women, all crying, all crowded around - Noah’s stomach knotted violently, more bothered by the thoughts that followed than the dead body next door. There was something terribly twisted about that, said a voice in the back of his brain, but he wasn’t much inclined to listen to that. Not when he was staring at the man in front of him and thinking the things he was thinking.
He was beautiful to look at, all broad straight lines in a perfectly tailored suit. His blond hair was just the slightest bit too long and he constantly ran his hands through it - in agitation? habit? - but it always fell back into his eyes. Noah just stared for a moment, trying to decide whether he should be terrified or turned on - or just terrified that he was turned on. He paused in the doorway just long enough for Dusty to make an impatient noise behind him, nudging past him easily.
“I’m Detective Donovan and this is my partner, Detective Mayer,” Dusty said, in his best Hello, I Am A Non Threatening Officer of the Law voice, forcing Noah to snap to attention and actually start doing his job, beautiful blond bedamned.
“I was told you found the body sir?” Noah said, his voice steady and even, specifically designed to say hi, you can trust me with your secrets and your feelings and maybe even a confession if you’re so inclined. The man lifted a hand from where he had been comforting one of the older secretaries with red eyes and tearstained cheeks and stared at Noah for a long moment before nodding, long hair flopping back into his eyes.
“That’s right,” he said, frowning a little as he shoved it out of his face again. “I’m Luke Snyder, I’m Damien’s marketing manager,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the office door behind him - which read Luciano Grimaldi in gold lettering. Noah read the sign with a furrowed brow before turning back to gaze questioningly at Luke, who frowned further. “Oh…” Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. “It’s a little complicated.” Noah raised an eyebrow - complicated always made for interesting motives. “Damien was also my biological father.” Noah’s hand slipped slightly from the pad he was writing notes on and he stared at Luke. “I was adopted when I was young,” Luke clarified - which made absolutely nothing clearer - something that was obviously apparent on Noah’s face because Luke sighed in frustration and gestured Noah to follow him further down the hallway. They paused outside what seemed to be a custodian’s closet. Luke didn’t seem to notice.
“You have to understand,” Luke said in a tone that clearly intimated that he didn’t expect Noah to understand in the least. “My family has gone through some extremely turbulent times and although Damien i-is-” Luke stuttered, blinking, an odd expression on his face, “-was my biological father, I didn’t really have a relationship with him.”
“Firstly,” Noah said dryly, dropping his you can trust me, I promise tone without realizing it, the man before him drawing out a bit of snark before Noah could reign it back properly. “I’m not brand new to Oakdale. I’m a little bit familiar with how this town works.” Luke had the decency to look slightly abashed - Noah tried not to think about the attractive blush that colored his cheeks. “Secondly,” he continued bluntly, but not coldly, “As far as I can tell, you were his second hand man here. In what world is that not a relationship?”
Luke scowled. “It’s complicated.”
Noah smiled pleasantly. “Try me. Sir,” he tacked on belatedly, remembering at the last second that he was supposed to be the polite one within his set of partners and that snarking at the blond was no way to achieve a damn thing. Not that he knew he wanted to achieve anything. Well, anything relating to the blond. Well, anything related to certain aspects of- okay, he was confusing even himself. Moving on.
“When I came out, he was less than thrilled,” Luke said after a long moment of consideration, his face still screwed up into a tight, impatient expression. “In several very mentally destructive ways. So we parted ways.”
Noah’s throat caught tight - Luke was… Noah’s mind struggled around the word. “I’m sorry,” Noah said, honestly and sincerely, his eyes meeting Luke’s with much more ease than Noah would have originally anticipated. Because their gazes were locked, Noah managed to spot the brief moment of surprise in Luke’s eyes, before it was smoothed away under the perfectly calm and collected surface of the rich, spoiled son with little talent and no drive.
Six minutes with Mr. Grimaldi-turned-Snyder and already Noah knew that was utterly false.
“He needed someone he could trust with the company,” Luke continued, his tone more carefully modulated. “He asked me to step in, since I was between… engagements. I agreed and I’ve been here for several years.” Noah nodded in response, making note of it.
“You don’t see very…” Noah began, pausing as if he was searching for the right word, an easy tactic to get a person talking - whatever they inevitably filled in told him something about them.
“Torn up?” Luke offered. “It’s not really any of your business Detective…” he trailed of just as meaningfully as Noah, who almost let his impressed smirk show on his lips but managed at the last second to hide it.
“Mayer,” he said instead, helpfully, handing Luke a card. “Detective Noah Mayer. Call me if ever you remember anything, anything at all,” he said, the words falling off his tongue naturally after years of doing it. “Please call me.”
Luke made a non-committal noise.
-
“Thanks for all your help. Remember, if you think of anything that may seem pertinent, please don’t hesitate to call, my number’s right there at the bottom,” Dusty was saying for the fourteenth time, handing over yet another business card as he sent a sympathetic smile towards Damien’s head secretary, who had been sobbing harder than any of the others and had nearly had a conniption fit when Luke had to untangle himself from her embrace to speak to Noah for a few minutes. A few seconds later, Dusty was striding away and heading straight for Noah. “You ready to kick this popsicle stand?”
“Pretty sure you’re mixing metaphors,” Noah muttered, but nodded and held the door open for Dusty to pass through.
“What a gentleman,” Dusty teased, frowning when his comment didn’t even get a hint of a rise out of Noah. They traveled the short elevator ride down and out towards the parking lot, Dusty speaking only when they’d both slid into the Crown Vic, Noah hauling his lanky frame into the seat specifically set up to accommodate his ridiculously long legs. “Hey, what’s up?”
Noah glanced at Dusty after a long moment of silent contemplation - the sudden urge to tell someone about what he’d felt was overwhelming for a brief second. Looking at Dusty, Noah realized that he was tired of hiding, tired of not saying a damn word aloud, tired of not saying anything. He felt so confused all the time, so trapped and for once he just wanted to say something to someone; he was sure if he just said the words aloud he’d know if they felt right or not. He stared at Dusty for a long, long moment before realizing he hadn’t said a damn thing. “Nothing,” he said lamely, knowing Dusty would give him shit for it.
Instead, Dusty looked sideways at Noah and quirked an eyebrow. Noah just stared straight ahead, trying not to let any of the fear and uncertainty cross his face. After a long moment Dusty just sighed and started the car, glancing halfheartedly either way down the road before pulling out with a squeal of the tires. Noah snorted, far too used to his partner’s daredevil driving to give Dusty the reaction he wanted.
“Guess it’s time to go report to Captain Hardass,” Dusty muttered, cutting off a BMW with enthusiasm and enjoying the look on the driver’s face when he realized he had flipped off a police officer.
Noah barked out a laugh, covering his mouth a second later. “Dusty,” he said warningly, glaring at his partner - though the quirked smile on his lips lessened the severity of the expression.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dusty grunted, waving one hand in a careless gesture, “I know. Rule number seventeen. Try not to make you laugh when I call your dad names,” he recited mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I know it’s not your fault kid, but damn - your dad’s got issues.”
Noah just grunted in response - Dusty didn’t take any offense to this though, he knew his partner well enough to understand that for the tacit agreement that it was. Being a detective under the tyrannical rule of Captain Winston Mayer wasn’t any walk in the park, but everyone at the precinct knew Noah had it worst. The amount of times the Captain had reamed Noah out in front of the whole precinct numbered high enough that Dusty had stopped counting.
The radio crackled to life on the dashboard, the familiar voice of dispatch coming over the speaker. “Car 147, dispatch is calling you back to the precinct. Your ETA?”
Noah cast a glance at the traffic in front of them before reaching to lift the radio to his lips, “Gonna call it about twenty, twenty five minutes Dispatch, some nasty traffic right on the corner of Main.”
“Gotcha.” The car fell back into silence as both detectives stared at the unmoving truck in front of them, listening to the seconds tick away and the occasional burst of radio noise.
“Wanna gumball it?” Dusty asked a second later, looking like a kid on Christmas Eve. Noah snorted again, this time an actual smile crossing his lips.
“Go for it Donovan, just don’t get us killed.” Dusty whooped and slapped the flashing blue light on top of car, already pulling around the truck in front of them.
“Killed in the line of duty?” Dusty asked incredulously, “Dying a hero? Me? Not a chance Mayer. Your precious royal ass is safe for another day,” he said, though considering the speed to which he accelerated was at least double the listed speed limit, his words were less than comforting.
“Your concern for my ass is both touching and disconcerting,” Noah said dryly, startling a full belly laugh from his partner even as he swerved around a tiny compact car.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dusty snorted, “Someone’s gotta watch out for you kid.” The unspoken ‘because your dad sure doesn’t’ sat in the air uncomfortably a moment before it was dashed away by yet another whoop from Dusty - this time he’d swerved around a Hummer, horn blaring. Noah just smiled tightly.
-
Dusty winced - hard. The second Noah had stepped foot back inside the precinct, the Captain’s voice had boomed across the forest of desks, shouting for Mayer to get his ass in here right now. Noah’s face had set into the expression that Dusty was beginning to absolutely despise - there was no emotion there, not a flash of damn personality. It was like Noah shut himself down like a computer to deal with his father. He had set his files on his desk promptly and headed over towards the Captain’s office. The door slammed loudly behind them, but the Captain’s shouts could easily be heard through the door.
It was generally the same old stuff - Noah wasn’t working hard enough, his close rate wasn’t high enough, he was being a disappointment to the Mayer name, yada yada. Dusty wanted to storm right in there and beat the shit out of the Captain some days. Noah worked harder than any other detective on the force, his close rate was the second highest and that’s only because the first highest had been doing it about fifteen years longer. Also, Dusty knew that if Noah was his son, Dusty would be proud beyond measure. Not that he’d ever tell the kid that.
Noah escaped several minutes later, looking like he’d gone ten rounds with a professional boxer. “’Nother cup of coffee?” Dusty asked, not looking up from his work, knowing how pity made Noah feel useless.
“No thanks,” Noah said softly, eyes traveling the precinct, though not settling on anything - as if unsure of what he was looking for.
-
Though he wasn’t sure he would ever get the hang of wearing a suit and tie every day to work, Noah knew that they lent him a certain air of respectability that otherwise his beanpole stature and young face would erase completely. Dusty was also capable of looking respectable every now and again, though Noah would never understand why the man chose a profession that forced him to wear a tie every day when he clearly hated them more than anything.
“Stop fussing with your clothes, you look like a five year old going to church,” Noah muttered as they started across the Snyder farmyard, hands in their pockets, Crown Vic parked out by the road. The Snyder farm was famous for being ground zero for what amounted to the best pies in three states and also the best swimming hole for amorous lovers during the summertime. Each member of the Oakdale PD had had to do a round up at one point or another at the Snyder farm to find at least one “kidnapped” kid, who had just decided to head out with a boyfriend or girlfriend and spend some time skinny dipping at the Snyder swimming hole.
The morning had started at Snyder manor to talk with Lily Snyder and Lucinda Walsh, easily the two people, other than Luke and his father, who had had the most connection to Damien while he was here in Oakdale. Both had confirmed alibis for the estimated time of death - nearly one am in the morning, two days ago. They’d been shopping for several new pieces of art for Worldwide offices and the Lakeview and at least three separate gallery owners confirmed video conferencing with them between the hours of eleven pm and two am. Holden Snyder, on the other hand, had no alibi. He had been napping at the farm and woke up only a few hours later to start cleaning out the barn, but neither Lily nor Lucinda, nor any of the three smaller children running around at the time could confirm that.
So Dusty and Noah were headed to Snyder farm to see if Emma Snyder could - and also to see if they could establish an alibi for her.
“Only if you stop staring at this farm like a four year old at a petting zoo,” Dusty replied, elbowing Noah in the ribs and making it look like he was just resettling his jacket.
“Shut up,” Noah replied lamely, making Dusty chuckle as they started up the old creaky porch steps, the wood groaning comfortably with their weight as they paused at the front door. In unison they knocked and waited.
The door swung open and the kindly face of Emma Snyder, pie baker and master cook extraordinaire, greeted them with a smile. “Well hello officers, what can I do for you today? Another child lost to the lure of the swimming hole?”
Dusty laughed, shaking his head. “No ma’am, unfortunately we’ve got a bit more unpleasantness than that to discuss. We’re here to see whether or not you can confirm your whereabouts and the whereabouts of some of your family members on the night of Damien Grimaldi’s death.”
“Oh,” Emma said, her face serious for a moment. “That is some very nasty unpleasantness. Why don’t you come in and sit down, and I’ll make you each a nice cup of coffee.”
“That sounds wonderful Emma, thank you,” Dusty said with vehemence - Noah had woken up late this morning and it had been his turn to grab coffee. Noah ignored the nasty look Dusty sent him and instead gestured to the wide fenced in area where several horses were meandering about, nosing at each other.
“Do you mind I go take a look at your horses Mrs. Snyder?” Noah asked, smiling a little sheepishly. “I’ve always loved them.”
“Oh, of course honey. But beware of Foster and Wallace over there on the end. They’ve each got a nasty bite to them this morning. Don’t know what’s gotten into them.” Noah nodded his thanks and started across the yard, avoiding the random chicken or stray cat every now and again.
For the most part, Noah was telling the truth. He rather liked horses, not that he’d gotten to ride much in his life. He and his father moved around every now and again as Winston got assigned to better and better posts in different cities within different police departments and they’d spent the better part of two years in Kentucky where Noah had learned to ride. He’d liked it there a lot, but they’d moved the next year and Noah had spent his senior year in the worst school in New York City, barely passing most of his classes and ruining all chances he’d had for perhaps finding something else to do other than being a cop for the rest of his life.
But truthfully, Noah wanted a look around the farm. He wanted to see if there was anything of note there, perhaps anything worth investigating. He wasn’t exactly expecting a bloody gun and a note from Damien explaining how his murder had gone down, but he was still hopeful for something interesting.
“What the hell are you doing here?” came a voice from behind him and Noah started from where he was petting a dark horse down the nose, sending the horse snorting in dissatisfaction. He turned and just behind him was Luke Snyder, leading a sweating horse back to the barn - shirtless. Noah swallowed.
“Just asking your grandmother a few questions,” Noah said politely. “Detective Donovan’s inside, I just asked Mrs. Snyder if I could hang out with the horses while they chatted.”
“You mean, hang out on our property to see if any one of us left a gun and a detailed plan of how we killed Damien around,” Luke snarked, absent mindedly patting the neck of the horse shifting behind him, getting a little restless. Noah couldn’t help but smirk at how Luke had nearly read his mind.
“Or something like that,” Noah agreed amiably.
“Well, you’re not going to find anything,” Luke said, scratching at his very distracting collarbone. Noah was doing his best not to stare but Luke was… Luke was incredibly attractive. The suits had only hinted at the shape beneath and now that Noah was observing first hand, he could say with certainty that Luke was hot.
The thought itself made his stomach ache unpleasantly; he was still so unsure of telling anyone or even saying the word aloud to himself, alone in his apartment. For now he would just observe Luke and try not to tear everything apart in his head.
“Probably not,” Noah replied, just as politely as before. Luke glared at him - it was kind of amusing. Noah was almost sure that no one had just tried to maintain politeness in the face of Luke’s high powered, bossy, know-it-all routine. It seemed to set him entirely on edge.
They stood in silence for a moment, Noah watching Luke with careful eyes, Luke glaring back, before Luke strode by him and nudged the gate of the corral open, slapping the rump of the horse to get him to push past and join the other horses in the circular fenced space.
“So, you really think that someone in my family did this?” Luke asked, his tone dangerously quiet. He settled his arms against the fence just a few inches from Noah’s arm and Noah was sure he could feel the warmth of Luke’s skin from beneath his layers of shirt and suit jacket.
Noah thought for a long moment, taking time to both consider the question and consider how honest he should be. “Although all signs point to yes, I’m not convinced,” he eventually replied - an answer that seemed to just make Luke more frustrated.
“No one in my family would ever do anything like this,” Luke said firmly. “And to think so is just poor detecting.” He glared at Noah out of his periphery - Noah’s eyes were now on the horses in front of them, still begging for treats and pets.
“You wouldn’t be the first to accuse me of that,” Noah muttered without thinking, Luke looking at him sharply. Noah, suddenly tense with how much he had revealed in that simple statement, studiously kept his gaze forward, refusing to look at Luke. “My Captain, my boss, believes that I should be focusing all my energy on your family,” Noah said eventually, slowly, a moment later.
“Well, he’s wrong,” Luke said bluntly. “And that’s that.” There was a pause. “The Captain… that’s your father, right?” Noah hmmed affirmatively, considering his next words for a long moment.
“My father’s convinced of a lot of things,” Noah said meaningfully. “A lot of things I don’t agree with, or that he doesn’t know and I don’t think I could ever tell him.” Luke looked at him steadily for a moment without blinking. “Apparently this case is one of them,” he added quietly, turning back to gaze at the horses.
Luke was quiet for a moment and for a second there, Noah thought that there was something in the air, a soft, warm feeling that could possibly have led to something… more. Luke was looking at him with quiet wonder and for the first time, his eyes were kind. Noah got the sense that for people who weren’t trying to tear apart Luke’s family, Luke was probably quite kind. Noah knew he was passionate and protective of those he loved - things that Noah could only respect and appreciate. But the quiet huff of horses and the soft thud of hooves on grass were broken by Dusty’s voice calling over to him.
“No alibi for Holden, probably going to have to investigate further, he might be our guy,” he said loudly as he strode over the hill towards where he’d seen Noah disappear to. At the sight of Luke beside Noah, Dusty winced and Noah could only imagine the faintly horrified look on his own face.
Luke’s face turned sharp and hard and he glared venomously at the two of them. “Stay the fuck away from my family,” he snarled, shoving past Noah and Dusty and stomping away and back up to the house. Noah watched him silently, eyes sliding over his tanned shoulders and down his back, stomach tight with guilt and frustration.
“Nice Donovan, let’s alienate the whole family while we’re at it,” Noah said gruffly, pushing away from the fence and giving the dark horse another pat on the nose before striding up the hill towards Dusty.
Dusty gave him a long look before shrugging a shoulder. “Never learned how to play nice,” he said simply. “Missed that day in preschool.”
“Considering how lacking your social skills are, I think you probably missed a couple years in there too,” Noah responded dryly, though his brain was still spinning around Luke. They started up the hill back to the main part of the farm too - though instead they turned towards the Vic and headed back to the precinct.
-
Noah stood, mouth even and breathing steady, as he readied the gun in his hand, taking aim at the target down at the far end of the shooting range. He forced his mind to clear, wanting nothing but the feel of the gun in his hands, the slight jerk of the kick, the burn in his muscles as he strained to stand perfectly steady.
He could barely hear the echo of his own gun over his ear guards but he felt each jerk of the weapon as he pulled the trigger, again and again, venting his frustration at the inanimate target at the end of the row. Thinking about Luke just increased his aggravation and frustration exponentially. It was like everything that man did was specifically designed to drive Noah insane - in every manner possible. Noah resolutely didn’t think about what he thought about at night when he was alone in his apartment. Instead, he allowed the slight burn of the kick to erase everything but the rhythm and the feel of the gun in his hands.
The light in his lane flashed and he realized that he could sense someone behind him. He tapped his safety on, lowered his weapon, setting it down carefully, and turned. Before him stood a haggard, terrified, vibrating version of his partner who was staring at him with wide, furious eyes.
Noah tugged off his ear guards with wide eyes. “Dusty, what the fuc-”
“Rei- Doctor Oli- fuck, Oliver’s in the hospital,” Dusty said tightly, collecting his gun and badge from the ledge against the back wall of the shooting range, fumbling with shaking hands to put his jacket on. Noah reached out, snagging his elbow quickly.
“What happened?” Noah asked, eyes wide, feeling off kilter now that his stress-relieving activity had been interrupted - and by such startling news. “Will he survive?”
“Fucking bashed,” Dusty spat and both Noah’s cop instinct and survival instinct sat up and stared in response. “And I know who fucking did it too.”
“Wh-what?” Noah asked, sounding like a broken record but unable to help himself as he just stared - he’d seen bashings before obviously, had seen broken bodies on sidewalks, bruised and mangled and bloody. But Reid? Their ridiculously annoying, brash, assholish genius of a medical examiner? It didn’t seem possible. “Who?” he demanded.
“Wallace,” Dusty bit out. “Wallace and Davidson. I’d bet my fucking badge on it. They’ve been bullying Reid for weeks, leaving notes and making comments like fucking grade school kids. Tonight they were like the second car to hit the scene even though they were supposed to be fucking patrolling by Old Town and not the fucking opposite side of Oakdale. I’m gonna fucking kill them. I’m going to find them and fucking show them what bashing looks like.” With that, Dusty turned and started towards the stairs that led back into the precinct - but not before Noah snatched at Dusty’s elbow again, holding him in place.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, “What are you going to do?”
“I fucking told you,” Dusty snarled. “I’m going to teach them a lesson.”
“We are officers of the law Dusty,” Noah snapped, his hand tightening around Dusty’s arm to an almost painful degree he was sure, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do to make sure his partner wasn’t going to run out on him. “This is not how we do things! There are protocols and standard operating procedures and-”
“And all of that can go kiss my ass!” Dusty snapped back. “This may not be how you do things kid, but in the big leagues we have our own rules.”
“There aren’t any rules but the law,” Noah argued, half terrified that he had to be arguing this with his partner, the person on whom he relied the most, the guy who held Noah’s life in his hands every time they stepped out of the precinct and into the real world.
“The law won’t do shit Mayer, you just don’t care, do you?” Noah opened his mouth to argue, but Dusty plowed on in his typical way, unseeing and uncaring. “Bet you’re just like your fucking homophobic dad and the rest of this piece of shit department. What, you want to punch a couple fags too? Can’t ever stand up to your fucking father, your fucking priorities are so screwed. It’s probably ‘cause you fucking believe every word he says,” Dusty spat, tearing his arm out of Noah’s now suddenly loose fingered grip and moving towards the staircase.
Noah was frozen for a moment, heart thudding in his chest, his pulse racing so loud that all he could hear was the rush of it in his ears as he stared at Dusty moving away from him. His partner, the one who he’d pathetically thought of as his best friend in this godforsaken town, the only one who Noah had thought might get him - had just told him everything he was terrified of hearing.
“I’m gay,” Noah said quietly - but it echoed in the empty shooting range and Dusty froze. “I was going to tell you soon, was kind of working my way up to it. Scary shit, right?” He laughed dully. “So no, I don’t agree with my father or this precinct. The opposite, actually. And what I know is this - you go out there and find Wallace and Davidson and you teach them a lesson, right? You give them a little hell, tear them new ones, smack them around a bit - and then what? You get arrested? You leave Reid out in the open for more attacks? Let him wake up in the hospital alone?” Noah shook his head and started for the stairs, brushing by Dusty gently. “I don’t think I’m the one with the fucked priorities.”
He headed up the stairs and out of the precinct in silence. Dusty didn’t follow.
-
When Noah woke the next morning, he was exhausted. Having stopped by the hospital late last night to check in on Reid, which he hadn’t been allowed to do, Noah had only managed to collapse into bed several hours before his alarm went off.
He laid there, just breathing for several minutes, trying to consider exactly how this day could go worse than yesterday. He came up with several likely options and discarded them all to convince himself to roll out of bed. His morning routine and drive over to the station was utterly silent as he picked through just how terrible yesterday had been, how terrible today would probably be and whether or not Dusty would tell anyone what he’d told him.
Most of Noah was saying absolutely not, but the constantly terrified part of his brain was still anxious and could not be comforted in the slightest. Noah strode into the precinct, his typical business face on, making a point not to look at the empty seat across from him as he slid into his seat, settling his papers in the center of his desk.
Most of the cubicles were empty, hardly anyone in the precinct early. There were of course a few stragglers from the midnight shift since the police station was never not on duty, but for the most part Noah was alone with his thoughts. One by one, his fellow detectives filed in and every time the door swung open, Noah tensed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to look Dusty in the eye and say anything that wasn’t rude or anything that wasn’t straight out pleading to keep what Noah had told him to himself.
But of course Dusty eventually had to appear. Noah made sure not to watch Dusty as he moved towards their desks - but he couldn’t help it when the larger man hovered obnoxiously over Noah’s shoulder - something he knew well that Noah hated.
There was a quiet thunk as Dusty set his gift down at Noah’s elbow before crossing to his own desk. Noah stared at the enormous coffee cup with something like wonder. It was completely obvious that it was from the expensive store on the opposite side of town, the one that Noah preferred and Dusty hated. Noah tried to hide a smile and failed miserably. His shoulders slumped slightly in relief and for once in his life, he slunk down into his chair, perfect posture obliterated by the relief coursing through him.
“So,” Dusty began seriously and quietly, leaning forward so that only Noah could hear him, setting Noah’s teeth a little on edge. “On a scale of one to ten, how hot am I to gay guys?” A split second passed and Noah blinked, stunned - before following it up by pegging Dusty in the head with a pen. Dusty just laughed and Noah finally broke into a grin.
“We’re fine,” Dusty assured his partner and for once, Noah felt like that wasn’t a complete lie.
-
so break my step
and relent
you forgave and i won't forget
know what we've seen
and him with less
now in some way
shake the excess
-
The nights passed and Noah was close to wanting to tear his hair out as he stared at the whiteboard he and Dusty had covered with information and pictures, trying to piece the murder together visually and trying to find a path that wouldn’t lead them to yet another dead end. It didn’t help that their concentration was split between the Grimaldi case and both his and Dusty’s determination to keep the Oliver case floating above obvious internal attempts to sweep it away. Cops stuck together, but unlike some in the precinct, they were both determined to make sure that Reid’s case didn’t disappear.
“It’s not Holden,” Noah insisted, tapping his dry erase marker against the eight by eleven version of the glossy photo they had of Holden. “It can’t be, it doesn’t add up.”
“Correction,” Dusty said with a sigh. “It makes perfect sense. It’s too perfect.” Noah nodded in agreement, twisting the cap of the marker about thirty times as he stared at the murder board - which wasn’t providing a lot of developments.
“Mayer!” came the shout from behind Noah’s shoulder from the Captain’s office.
“Christ Mayer,” Dusty said, rolling his eyes. “What did you do now?” Noah hushed Dusty and started with speed towards the Captain’s door.
“Arrest Holden Snyder, he did it,” were the first words out of the Captain’s mouth as Noah slid through the door and nudged it close, standing at attention beside his father’s desk.
Noah blanched. “Uh, I, uh, sir, I’m not really sure that’s…”
The Captain leaned over Noah, looming threatening. “Did I make myself not clear?”
“Perfectly clear. I’m just wondering if we’re being a little hasty.”
“It’s not your job to question me,” the Captain said dangerously. “Your job is to fucking do as I say and not fuck up. But you seem to be failing in both of those regards Noah. I’m constantly seeing shoddy work from you on all of your cases - if you’re missing Holden Snyder as the murderer on this one, maybe you need to realize that you’re not cut out for police work,” the Captain said disgustedly.
Noah couldn’t swallow or breathe or move. All his life, all he’d worked for, all he’d ever done or excelled at was to impress his father and become a cop. Not just a cop, but a good one - a great one. He wanted to help people, catch the bad guys and save the day. And not once had his father ever recognized that. “No,” Noah said without thinking. “I’m not going to arrest Holden.”
Captain Winston Mayer looked down at his son as if he were scum on the bottom of his shoe. “I could fire you for insubordination,” he growled. “You add nothing to this force, I’m sick and tired of having other, better detectives pick up the slack for you and Donovan. You will go arrest Holden Snyder and you will do it tonight, or I’m suggesting to the higher ups that we let you and Donovan go for inferior and inadequate work.” And his father would, Noah realized. In a heartbeat, his father would tear this department apart to keep his name on top.
Noah’s skin crawled and he nodded slowly. “Fine. Leave Dusty out of this. We’ll go pick Holden up.” He felt sick as he spoke the words, but Dusty’s life was the job. Without it, Noah knew he’d crawl right back into the bottle and Noah would lose him forever.
“Good,” the Captain said simply. “Now get out.” I’m sick of you was unspoken but heard.
Noah moved slowly, as if walking through water, as he left the office, closing the door behind him quietly. He started back towards his desk, startling when Margo, one of the detectives who’d been at the precinct for the longest, snagged him around the elbow and tugged him to a stop. “I believe you,” she said firmly but quietly. “I know the Snyders, I know the family, Holden didn’t do this.”
Noah just nodded and pulled away from her grip gently. That was good to hear, but it didn’t change anything. Noah nodded at Dusty and grabbed his jacket, badge and gun. Dusty followed suit without words and they strode from the precinct in silent unison.
-
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
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.
i fell heavy into your arms;
-
i came home
like a stone
and i fell heavy into your arms
these days of dust
which we've known
will blow away with this new sun
-
“What’ve we got Doc?” Dusty asked as he lifted the police tape to help Noah duck his lanky frame under it with practiced ease.
“Surprisingly enough Donovan, it’s a dead body,” Reid drawled, giving Dusty his standard ‘are you seriously that stupid?’ look.
“What’s surprising is the fact that I haven’t killed you yet Oliver,” Dusty said pleasantly, making a few of the surrounding beat officers chuckle.
“No, the most surprising fact is how long you’ve survived despite the fact you only seem to be functioning on two brain cells rubbing furiously together.”
“Can you guys keep your verbal foreplay to a minimum?” Noah cut in absentmindedly, his focus on the body in front of him. “We kind of have work to do.” Dusty and Reid both gave him dirty looks but Noah hardly noticed.
“The kid who found the body is in the next room over,” Reid added a moment later, gesturing to the door that led to the land of secretary cubicles.
“Kid?” Noah asked, bracing himself for the worst. Would they have to call Special Victims?
“Eh, like your age,” Reid said blithely, ignoring the scowl Noah sent his way. He hadn’t been a kid since about the age of eleven when his dad handed him a gun and told him he was going to learn how to shoot and then become a cop. “Short blonde, cute in that yappy dog way.” Considering Reid would sooner kill a tiny fluffy dog than be in its presence for an extended period of time, Noah deduced this was not a compliment.
“Not your type then Doc?” Dusty smirked, leaning his elbows on the body stretcher the morgue assistants had brought in and resting his head on his hands cheerfully. Reid glanced up at Dusty, who was now fluttering his eyelashes obnoxiously down at the coroner.
A wicked smirk crossed Reid’s face and he stood swiftly and crossed to where Dusty was standing. “No,” Reid replied slowly, his voice deep and thoughtful. “My type is definitely… rougher,” he leaned closer to Dusty’s face, which had gone pale, “Tougher… more…” Reid paused for a long moment, the room silent as Reid’s lips drew closer to Dusty, who was frozen in place. “More… fucking moronic Donovan!” Reid bellowed suddenly, shoving at the rolling stretcher and sending Dusty to the ground in a heap. “Get the fuck away from my body,” Reid snapped.
Dusty stared up at the looming coroner for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Sure thing Doc,” Dusty said, smirking as he stood and brushed himself off as Reid rolled his eyes and turned to crouch beside the body of a tall blonde man in an extremely expensive suit, his watch worth more than Noah’s yearly salary.
“How long you been a fag, Oliver?” snickered Wallace, the beat cop who’d been the first car to the scene. His partner, Davidson, snorted into the coffee he was holding.
“Since birth, thanks Wallace,” Reid replied, rolling his eyes. The two cops paused and glanced at the coroner.
“For real?” Davidson asked, his expression shuttered.
“Yeah Davidson, for realsies,” Reid replied in a dry tone that said clearly, fuck off and die.
Noah ignored them all and crossed to the far room that Reid had gestured to, nudging the door open to reveal several older women, all crying, all crowded around - Noah’s stomach knotted violently, more bothered by the thoughts that followed than the dead body next door. There was something terribly twisted about that, said a voice in the back of his brain, but he wasn’t much inclined to listen to that. Not when he was staring at the man in front of him and thinking the things he was thinking.
He was beautiful to look at, all broad straight lines in a perfectly tailored suit. His blond hair was just the slightest bit too long and he constantly ran his hands through it - in agitation? habit? - but it always fell back into his eyes. Noah just stared for a moment, trying to decide whether he should be terrified or turned on - or just terrified that he was turned on. He paused in the doorway just long enough for Dusty to make an impatient noise behind him, nudging past him easily.
“I’m Detective Donovan and this is my partner, Detective Mayer,” Dusty said, in his best Hello, I Am A Non Threatening Officer of the Law voice, forcing Noah to snap to attention and actually start doing his job, beautiful blond bedamned.
“I was told you found the body sir?” Noah said, his voice steady and even, specifically designed to say hi, you can trust me with your secrets and your feelings and maybe even a confession if you’re so inclined. The man lifted a hand from where he had been comforting one of the older secretaries with red eyes and tearstained cheeks and stared at Noah for a long moment before nodding, long hair flopping back into his eyes.
“That’s right,” he said, frowning a little as he shoved it out of his face again. “I’m Luke Snyder, I’m Damien’s marketing manager,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the office door behind him - which read Luciano Grimaldi in gold lettering. Noah read the sign with a furrowed brow before turning back to gaze questioningly at Luke, who frowned further. “Oh…” Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. “It’s a little complicated.” Noah raised an eyebrow - complicated always made for interesting motives. “Damien was also my biological father.” Noah’s hand slipped slightly from the pad he was writing notes on and he stared at Luke. “I was adopted when I was young,” Luke clarified - which made absolutely nothing clearer - something that was obviously apparent on Noah’s face because Luke sighed in frustration and gestured Noah to follow him further down the hallway. They paused outside what seemed to be a custodian’s closet. Luke didn’t seem to notice.
“You have to understand,” Luke said in a tone that clearly intimated that he didn’t expect Noah to understand in the least. “My family has gone through some extremely turbulent times and although Damien i-is-” Luke stuttered, blinking, an odd expression on his face, “-was my biological father, I didn’t really have a relationship with him.”
“Firstly,” Noah said dryly, dropping his you can trust me, I promise tone without realizing it, the man before him drawing out a bit of snark before Noah could reign it back properly. “I’m not brand new to Oakdale. I’m a little bit familiar with how this town works.” Luke had the decency to look slightly abashed - Noah tried not to think about the attractive blush that colored his cheeks. “Secondly,” he continued bluntly, but not coldly, “As far as I can tell, you were his second hand man here. In what world is that not a relationship?”
Luke scowled. “It’s complicated.”
Noah smiled pleasantly. “Try me. Sir,” he tacked on belatedly, remembering at the last second that he was supposed to be the polite one within his set of partners and that snarking at the blond was no way to achieve a damn thing. Not that he knew he wanted to achieve anything. Well, anything relating to the blond. Well, anything related to certain aspects of- okay, he was confusing even himself. Moving on.
“When I came out, he was less than thrilled,” Luke said after a long moment of consideration, his face still screwed up into a tight, impatient expression. “In several very mentally destructive ways. So we parted ways.”
Noah’s throat caught tight - Luke was… Noah’s mind struggled around the word. “I’m sorry,” Noah said, honestly and sincerely, his eyes meeting Luke’s with much more ease than Noah would have originally anticipated. Because their gazes were locked, Noah managed to spot the brief moment of surprise in Luke’s eyes, before it was smoothed away under the perfectly calm and collected surface of the rich, spoiled son with little talent and no drive.
Six minutes with Mr. Grimaldi-turned-Snyder and already Noah knew that was utterly false.
“He needed someone he could trust with the company,” Luke continued, his tone more carefully modulated. “He asked me to step in, since I was between… engagements. I agreed and I’ve been here for several years.” Noah nodded in response, making note of it.
“You don’t see very…” Noah began, pausing as if he was searching for the right word, an easy tactic to get a person talking - whatever they inevitably filled in told him something about them.
“Torn up?” Luke offered. “It’s not really any of your business Detective…” he trailed of just as meaningfully as Noah, who almost let his impressed smirk show on his lips but managed at the last second to hide it.
“Mayer,” he said instead, helpfully, handing Luke a card. “Detective Noah Mayer. Call me if ever you remember anything, anything at all,” he said, the words falling off his tongue naturally after years of doing it. “Please call me.”
Luke made a non-committal noise.
-
“Thanks for all your help. Remember, if you think of anything that may seem pertinent, please don’t hesitate to call, my number’s right there at the bottom,” Dusty was saying for the fourteenth time, handing over yet another business card as he sent a sympathetic smile towards Damien’s head secretary, who had been sobbing harder than any of the others and had nearly had a conniption fit when Luke had to untangle himself from her embrace to speak to Noah for a few minutes. A few seconds later, Dusty was striding away and heading straight for Noah. “You ready to kick this popsicle stand?”
“Pretty sure you’re mixing metaphors,” Noah muttered, but nodded and held the door open for Dusty to pass through.
“What a gentleman,” Dusty teased, frowning when his comment didn’t even get a hint of a rise out of Noah. They traveled the short elevator ride down and out towards the parking lot, Dusty speaking only when they’d both slid into the Crown Vic, Noah hauling his lanky frame into the seat specifically set up to accommodate his ridiculously long legs. “Hey, what’s up?”
Noah glanced at Dusty after a long moment of silent contemplation - the sudden urge to tell someone about what he’d felt was overwhelming for a brief second. Looking at Dusty, Noah realized that he was tired of hiding, tired of not saying a damn word aloud, tired of not saying anything. He felt so confused all the time, so trapped and for once he just wanted to say something to someone; he was sure if he just said the words aloud he’d know if they felt right or not. He stared at Dusty for a long, long moment before realizing he hadn’t said a damn thing. “Nothing,” he said lamely, knowing Dusty would give him shit for it.
Instead, Dusty looked sideways at Noah and quirked an eyebrow. Noah just stared straight ahead, trying not to let any of the fear and uncertainty cross his face. After a long moment Dusty just sighed and started the car, glancing halfheartedly either way down the road before pulling out with a squeal of the tires. Noah snorted, far too used to his partner’s daredevil driving to give Dusty the reaction he wanted.
“Guess it’s time to go report to Captain Hardass,” Dusty muttered, cutting off a BMW with enthusiasm and enjoying the look on the driver’s face when he realized he had flipped off a police officer.
Noah barked out a laugh, covering his mouth a second later. “Dusty,” he said warningly, glaring at his partner - though the quirked smile on his lips lessened the severity of the expression.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dusty grunted, waving one hand in a careless gesture, “I know. Rule number seventeen. Try not to make you laugh when I call your dad names,” he recited mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I know it’s not your fault kid, but damn - your dad’s got issues.”
Noah just grunted in response - Dusty didn’t take any offense to this though, he knew his partner well enough to understand that for the tacit agreement that it was. Being a detective under the tyrannical rule of Captain Winston Mayer wasn’t any walk in the park, but everyone at the precinct knew Noah had it worst. The amount of times the Captain had reamed Noah out in front of the whole precinct numbered high enough that Dusty had stopped counting.
The radio crackled to life on the dashboard, the familiar voice of dispatch coming over the speaker. “Car 147, dispatch is calling you back to the precinct. Your ETA?”
Noah cast a glance at the traffic in front of them before reaching to lift the radio to his lips, “Gonna call it about twenty, twenty five minutes Dispatch, some nasty traffic right on the corner of Main.”
“Gotcha.” The car fell back into silence as both detectives stared at the unmoving truck in front of them, listening to the seconds tick away and the occasional burst of radio noise.
“Wanna gumball it?” Dusty asked a second later, looking like a kid on Christmas Eve. Noah snorted again, this time an actual smile crossing his lips.
“Go for it Donovan, just don’t get us killed.” Dusty whooped and slapped the flashing blue light on top of car, already pulling around the truck in front of them.
“Killed in the line of duty?” Dusty asked incredulously, “Dying a hero? Me? Not a chance Mayer. Your precious royal ass is safe for another day,” he said, though considering the speed to which he accelerated was at least double the listed speed limit, his words were less than comforting.
“Your concern for my ass is both touching and disconcerting,” Noah said dryly, startling a full belly laugh from his partner even as he swerved around a tiny compact car.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dusty snorted, “Someone’s gotta watch out for you kid.” The unspoken ‘because your dad sure doesn’t’ sat in the air uncomfortably a moment before it was dashed away by yet another whoop from Dusty - this time he’d swerved around a Hummer, horn blaring. Noah just smiled tightly.
-
Dusty winced - hard. The second Noah had stepped foot back inside the precinct, the Captain’s voice had boomed across the forest of desks, shouting for Mayer to get his ass in here right now. Noah’s face had set into the expression that Dusty was beginning to absolutely despise - there was no emotion there, not a flash of damn personality. It was like Noah shut himself down like a computer to deal with his father. He had set his files on his desk promptly and headed over towards the Captain’s office. The door slammed loudly behind them, but the Captain’s shouts could easily be heard through the door.
It was generally the same old stuff - Noah wasn’t working hard enough, his close rate wasn’t high enough, he was being a disappointment to the Mayer name, yada yada. Dusty wanted to storm right in there and beat the shit out of the Captain some days. Noah worked harder than any other detective on the force, his close rate was the second highest and that’s only because the first highest had been doing it about fifteen years longer. Also, Dusty knew that if Noah was his son, Dusty would be proud beyond measure. Not that he’d ever tell the kid that.
Noah escaped several minutes later, looking like he’d gone ten rounds with a professional boxer. “’Nother cup of coffee?” Dusty asked, not looking up from his work, knowing how pity made Noah feel useless.
“No thanks,” Noah said softly, eyes traveling the precinct, though not settling on anything - as if unsure of what he was looking for.
-
Though he wasn’t sure he would ever get the hang of wearing a suit and tie every day to work, Noah knew that they lent him a certain air of respectability that otherwise his beanpole stature and young face would erase completely. Dusty was also capable of looking respectable every now and again, though Noah would never understand why the man chose a profession that forced him to wear a tie every day when he clearly hated them more than anything.
“Stop fussing with your clothes, you look like a five year old going to church,” Noah muttered as they started across the Snyder farmyard, hands in their pockets, Crown Vic parked out by the road. The Snyder farm was famous for being ground zero for what amounted to the best pies in three states and also the best swimming hole for amorous lovers during the summertime. Each member of the Oakdale PD had had to do a round up at one point or another at the Snyder farm to find at least one “kidnapped” kid, who had just decided to head out with a boyfriend or girlfriend and spend some time skinny dipping at the Snyder swimming hole.
The morning had started at Snyder manor to talk with Lily Snyder and Lucinda Walsh, easily the two people, other than Luke and his father, who had had the most connection to Damien while he was here in Oakdale. Both had confirmed alibis for the estimated time of death - nearly one am in the morning, two days ago. They’d been shopping for several new pieces of art for Worldwide offices and the Lakeview and at least three separate gallery owners confirmed video conferencing with them between the hours of eleven pm and two am. Holden Snyder, on the other hand, had no alibi. He had been napping at the farm and woke up only a few hours later to start cleaning out the barn, but neither Lily nor Lucinda, nor any of the three smaller children running around at the time could confirm that.
So Dusty and Noah were headed to Snyder farm to see if Emma Snyder could - and also to see if they could establish an alibi for her.
“Only if you stop staring at this farm like a four year old at a petting zoo,” Dusty replied, elbowing Noah in the ribs and making it look like he was just resettling his jacket.
“Shut up,” Noah replied lamely, making Dusty chuckle as they started up the old creaky porch steps, the wood groaning comfortably with their weight as they paused at the front door. In unison they knocked and waited.
The door swung open and the kindly face of Emma Snyder, pie baker and master cook extraordinaire, greeted them with a smile. “Well hello officers, what can I do for you today? Another child lost to the lure of the swimming hole?”
Dusty laughed, shaking his head. “No ma’am, unfortunately we’ve got a bit more unpleasantness than that to discuss. We’re here to see whether or not you can confirm your whereabouts and the whereabouts of some of your family members on the night of Damien Grimaldi’s death.”
“Oh,” Emma said, her face serious for a moment. “That is some very nasty unpleasantness. Why don’t you come in and sit down, and I’ll make you each a nice cup of coffee.”
“That sounds wonderful Emma, thank you,” Dusty said with vehemence - Noah had woken up late this morning and it had been his turn to grab coffee. Noah ignored the nasty look Dusty sent him and instead gestured to the wide fenced in area where several horses were meandering about, nosing at each other.
“Do you mind I go take a look at your horses Mrs. Snyder?” Noah asked, smiling a little sheepishly. “I’ve always loved them.”
“Oh, of course honey. But beware of Foster and Wallace over there on the end. They’ve each got a nasty bite to them this morning. Don’t know what’s gotten into them.” Noah nodded his thanks and started across the yard, avoiding the random chicken or stray cat every now and again.
For the most part, Noah was telling the truth. He rather liked horses, not that he’d gotten to ride much in his life. He and his father moved around every now and again as Winston got assigned to better and better posts in different cities within different police departments and they’d spent the better part of two years in Kentucky where Noah had learned to ride. He’d liked it there a lot, but they’d moved the next year and Noah had spent his senior year in the worst school in New York City, barely passing most of his classes and ruining all chances he’d had for perhaps finding something else to do other than being a cop for the rest of his life.
But truthfully, Noah wanted a look around the farm. He wanted to see if there was anything of note there, perhaps anything worth investigating. He wasn’t exactly expecting a bloody gun and a note from Damien explaining how his murder had gone down, but he was still hopeful for something interesting.
“What the hell are you doing here?” came a voice from behind him and Noah started from where he was petting a dark horse down the nose, sending the horse snorting in dissatisfaction. He turned and just behind him was Luke Snyder, leading a sweating horse back to the barn - shirtless. Noah swallowed.
“Just asking your grandmother a few questions,” Noah said politely. “Detective Donovan’s inside, I just asked Mrs. Snyder if I could hang out with the horses while they chatted.”
“You mean, hang out on our property to see if any one of us left a gun and a detailed plan of how we killed Damien around,” Luke snarked, absent mindedly patting the neck of the horse shifting behind him, getting a little restless. Noah couldn’t help but smirk at how Luke had nearly read his mind.
“Or something like that,” Noah agreed amiably.
“Well, you’re not going to find anything,” Luke said, scratching at his very distracting collarbone. Noah was doing his best not to stare but Luke was… Luke was incredibly attractive. The suits had only hinted at the shape beneath and now that Noah was observing first hand, he could say with certainty that Luke was hot.
The thought itself made his stomach ache unpleasantly; he was still so unsure of telling anyone or even saying the word aloud to himself, alone in his apartment. For now he would just observe Luke and try not to tear everything apart in his head.
“Probably not,” Noah replied, just as politely as before. Luke glared at him - it was kind of amusing. Noah was almost sure that no one had just tried to maintain politeness in the face of Luke’s high powered, bossy, know-it-all routine. It seemed to set him entirely on edge.
They stood in silence for a moment, Noah watching Luke with careful eyes, Luke glaring back, before Luke strode by him and nudged the gate of the corral open, slapping the rump of the horse to get him to push past and join the other horses in the circular fenced space.
“So, you really think that someone in my family did this?” Luke asked, his tone dangerously quiet. He settled his arms against the fence just a few inches from Noah’s arm and Noah was sure he could feel the warmth of Luke’s skin from beneath his layers of shirt and suit jacket.
Noah thought for a long moment, taking time to both consider the question and consider how honest he should be. “Although all signs point to yes, I’m not convinced,” he eventually replied - an answer that seemed to just make Luke more frustrated.
“No one in my family would ever do anything like this,” Luke said firmly. “And to think so is just poor detecting.” He glared at Noah out of his periphery - Noah’s eyes were now on the horses in front of them, still begging for treats and pets.
“You wouldn’t be the first to accuse me of that,” Noah muttered without thinking, Luke looking at him sharply. Noah, suddenly tense with how much he had revealed in that simple statement, studiously kept his gaze forward, refusing to look at Luke. “My Captain, my boss, believes that I should be focusing all my energy on your family,” Noah said eventually, slowly, a moment later.
“Well, he’s wrong,” Luke said bluntly. “And that’s that.” There was a pause. “The Captain… that’s your father, right?” Noah hmmed affirmatively, considering his next words for a long moment.
“My father’s convinced of a lot of things,” Noah said meaningfully. “A lot of things I don’t agree with, or that he doesn’t know and I don’t think I could ever tell him.” Luke looked at him steadily for a moment without blinking. “Apparently this case is one of them,” he added quietly, turning back to gaze at the horses.
Luke was quiet for a moment and for a second there, Noah thought that there was something in the air, a soft, warm feeling that could possibly have led to something… more. Luke was looking at him with quiet wonder and for the first time, his eyes were kind. Noah got the sense that for people who weren’t trying to tear apart Luke’s family, Luke was probably quite kind. Noah knew he was passionate and protective of those he loved - things that Noah could only respect and appreciate. But the quiet huff of horses and the soft thud of hooves on grass were broken by Dusty’s voice calling over to him.
“No alibi for Holden, probably going to have to investigate further, he might be our guy,” he said loudly as he strode over the hill towards where he’d seen Noah disappear to. At the sight of Luke beside Noah, Dusty winced and Noah could only imagine the faintly horrified look on his own face.
Luke’s face turned sharp and hard and he glared venomously at the two of them. “Stay the fuck away from my family,” he snarled, shoving past Noah and Dusty and stomping away and back up to the house. Noah watched him silently, eyes sliding over his tanned shoulders and down his back, stomach tight with guilt and frustration.
“Nice Donovan, let’s alienate the whole family while we’re at it,” Noah said gruffly, pushing away from the fence and giving the dark horse another pat on the nose before striding up the hill towards Dusty.
Dusty gave him a long look before shrugging a shoulder. “Never learned how to play nice,” he said simply. “Missed that day in preschool.”
“Considering how lacking your social skills are, I think you probably missed a couple years in there too,” Noah responded dryly, though his brain was still spinning around Luke. They started up the hill back to the main part of the farm too - though instead they turned towards the Vic and headed back to the precinct.
-
Noah stood, mouth even and breathing steady, as he readied the gun in his hand, taking aim at the target down at the far end of the shooting range. He forced his mind to clear, wanting nothing but the feel of the gun in his hands, the slight jerk of the kick, the burn in his muscles as he strained to stand perfectly steady.
He could barely hear the echo of his own gun over his ear guards but he felt each jerk of the weapon as he pulled the trigger, again and again, venting his frustration at the inanimate target at the end of the row. Thinking about Luke just increased his aggravation and frustration exponentially. It was like everything that man did was specifically designed to drive Noah insane - in every manner possible. Noah resolutely didn’t think about what he thought about at night when he was alone in his apartment. Instead, he allowed the slight burn of the kick to erase everything but the rhythm and the feel of the gun in his hands.
The light in his lane flashed and he realized that he could sense someone behind him. He tapped his safety on, lowered his weapon, setting it down carefully, and turned. Before him stood a haggard, terrified, vibrating version of his partner who was staring at him with wide, furious eyes.
Noah tugged off his ear guards with wide eyes. “Dusty, what the fuc-”
“Rei- Doctor Oli- fuck, Oliver’s in the hospital,” Dusty said tightly, collecting his gun and badge from the ledge against the back wall of the shooting range, fumbling with shaking hands to put his jacket on. Noah reached out, snagging his elbow quickly.
“What happened?” Noah asked, eyes wide, feeling off kilter now that his stress-relieving activity had been interrupted - and by such startling news. “Will he survive?”
“Fucking bashed,” Dusty spat and both Noah’s cop instinct and survival instinct sat up and stared in response. “And I know who fucking did it too.”
“Wh-what?” Noah asked, sounding like a broken record but unable to help himself as he just stared - he’d seen bashings before obviously, had seen broken bodies on sidewalks, bruised and mangled and bloody. But Reid? Their ridiculously annoying, brash, assholish genius of a medical examiner? It didn’t seem possible. “Who?” he demanded.
“Wallace,” Dusty bit out. “Wallace and Davidson. I’d bet my fucking badge on it. They’ve been bullying Reid for weeks, leaving notes and making comments like fucking grade school kids. Tonight they were like the second car to hit the scene even though they were supposed to be fucking patrolling by Old Town and not the fucking opposite side of Oakdale. I’m gonna fucking kill them. I’m going to find them and fucking show them what bashing looks like.” With that, Dusty turned and started towards the stairs that led back into the precinct - but not before Noah snatched at Dusty’s elbow again, holding him in place.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, “What are you going to do?”
“I fucking told you,” Dusty snarled. “I’m going to teach them a lesson.”
“We are officers of the law Dusty,” Noah snapped, his hand tightening around Dusty’s arm to an almost painful degree he was sure, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do to make sure his partner wasn’t going to run out on him. “This is not how we do things! There are protocols and standard operating procedures and-”
“And all of that can go kiss my ass!” Dusty snapped back. “This may not be how you do things kid, but in the big leagues we have our own rules.”
“There aren’t any rules but the law,” Noah argued, half terrified that he had to be arguing this with his partner, the person on whom he relied the most, the guy who held Noah’s life in his hands every time they stepped out of the precinct and into the real world.
“The law won’t do shit Mayer, you just don’t care, do you?” Noah opened his mouth to argue, but Dusty plowed on in his typical way, unseeing and uncaring. “Bet you’re just like your fucking homophobic dad and the rest of this piece of shit department. What, you want to punch a couple fags too? Can’t ever stand up to your fucking father, your fucking priorities are so screwed. It’s probably ‘cause you fucking believe every word he says,” Dusty spat, tearing his arm out of Noah’s now suddenly loose fingered grip and moving towards the staircase.
Noah was frozen for a moment, heart thudding in his chest, his pulse racing so loud that all he could hear was the rush of it in his ears as he stared at Dusty moving away from him. His partner, the one who he’d pathetically thought of as his best friend in this godforsaken town, the only one who Noah had thought might get him - had just told him everything he was terrified of hearing.
“I’m gay,” Noah said quietly - but it echoed in the empty shooting range and Dusty froze. “I was going to tell you soon, was kind of working my way up to it. Scary shit, right?” He laughed dully. “So no, I don’t agree with my father or this precinct. The opposite, actually. And what I know is this - you go out there and find Wallace and Davidson and you teach them a lesson, right? You give them a little hell, tear them new ones, smack them around a bit - and then what? You get arrested? You leave Reid out in the open for more attacks? Let him wake up in the hospital alone?” Noah shook his head and started for the stairs, brushing by Dusty gently. “I don’t think I’m the one with the fucked priorities.”
He headed up the stairs and out of the precinct in silence. Dusty didn’t follow.
-
When Noah woke the next morning, he was exhausted. Having stopped by the hospital late last night to check in on Reid, which he hadn’t been allowed to do, Noah had only managed to collapse into bed several hours before his alarm went off.
He laid there, just breathing for several minutes, trying to consider exactly how this day could go worse than yesterday. He came up with several likely options and discarded them all to convince himself to roll out of bed. His morning routine and drive over to the station was utterly silent as he picked through just how terrible yesterday had been, how terrible today would probably be and whether or not Dusty would tell anyone what he’d told him.
Most of Noah was saying absolutely not, but the constantly terrified part of his brain was still anxious and could not be comforted in the slightest. Noah strode into the precinct, his typical business face on, making a point not to look at the empty seat across from him as he slid into his seat, settling his papers in the center of his desk.
Most of the cubicles were empty, hardly anyone in the precinct early. There were of course a few stragglers from the midnight shift since the police station was never not on duty, but for the most part Noah was alone with his thoughts. One by one, his fellow detectives filed in and every time the door swung open, Noah tensed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to look Dusty in the eye and say anything that wasn’t rude or anything that wasn’t straight out pleading to keep what Noah had told him to himself.
But of course Dusty eventually had to appear. Noah made sure not to watch Dusty as he moved towards their desks - but he couldn’t help it when the larger man hovered obnoxiously over Noah’s shoulder - something he knew well that Noah hated.
There was a quiet thunk as Dusty set his gift down at Noah’s elbow before crossing to his own desk. Noah stared at the enormous coffee cup with something like wonder. It was completely obvious that it was from the expensive store on the opposite side of town, the one that Noah preferred and Dusty hated. Noah tried to hide a smile and failed miserably. His shoulders slumped slightly in relief and for once in his life, he slunk down into his chair, perfect posture obliterated by the relief coursing through him.
“So,” Dusty began seriously and quietly, leaning forward so that only Noah could hear him, setting Noah’s teeth a little on edge. “On a scale of one to ten, how hot am I to gay guys?” A split second passed and Noah blinked, stunned - before following it up by pegging Dusty in the head with a pen. Dusty just laughed and Noah finally broke into a grin.
“We’re fine,” Dusty assured his partner and for once, Noah felt like that wasn’t a complete lie.
-
so break my step
and relent
you forgave and i won't forget
know what we've seen
and him with less
now in some way
shake the excess
-
The nights passed and Noah was close to wanting to tear his hair out as he stared at the whiteboard he and Dusty had covered with information and pictures, trying to piece the murder together visually and trying to find a path that wouldn’t lead them to yet another dead end. It didn’t help that their concentration was split between the Grimaldi case and both his and Dusty’s determination to keep the Oliver case floating above obvious internal attempts to sweep it away. Cops stuck together, but unlike some in the precinct, they were both determined to make sure that Reid’s case didn’t disappear.
“It’s not Holden,” Noah insisted, tapping his dry erase marker against the eight by eleven version of the glossy photo they had of Holden. “It can’t be, it doesn’t add up.”
“Correction,” Dusty said with a sigh. “It makes perfect sense. It’s too perfect.” Noah nodded in agreement, twisting the cap of the marker about thirty times as he stared at the murder board - which wasn’t providing a lot of developments.
“Mayer!” came the shout from behind Noah’s shoulder from the Captain’s office.
“Christ Mayer,” Dusty said, rolling his eyes. “What did you do now?” Noah hushed Dusty and started with speed towards the Captain’s door.
“Arrest Holden Snyder, he did it,” were the first words out of the Captain’s mouth as Noah slid through the door and nudged it close, standing at attention beside his father’s desk.
Noah blanched. “Uh, I, uh, sir, I’m not really sure that’s…”
The Captain leaned over Noah, looming threatening. “Did I make myself not clear?”
“Perfectly clear. I’m just wondering if we’re being a little hasty.”
“It’s not your job to question me,” the Captain said dangerously. “Your job is to fucking do as I say and not fuck up. But you seem to be failing in both of those regards Noah. I’m constantly seeing shoddy work from you on all of your cases - if you’re missing Holden Snyder as the murderer on this one, maybe you need to realize that you’re not cut out for police work,” the Captain said disgustedly.
Noah couldn’t swallow or breathe or move. All his life, all he’d worked for, all he’d ever done or excelled at was to impress his father and become a cop. Not just a cop, but a good one - a great one. He wanted to help people, catch the bad guys and save the day. And not once had his father ever recognized that. “No,” Noah said without thinking. “I’m not going to arrest Holden.”
Captain Winston Mayer looked down at his son as if he were scum on the bottom of his shoe. “I could fire you for insubordination,” he growled. “You add nothing to this force, I’m sick and tired of having other, better detectives pick up the slack for you and Donovan. You will go arrest Holden Snyder and you will do it tonight, or I’m suggesting to the higher ups that we let you and Donovan go for inferior and inadequate work.” And his father would, Noah realized. In a heartbeat, his father would tear this department apart to keep his name on top.
Noah’s skin crawled and he nodded slowly. “Fine. Leave Dusty out of this. We’ll go pick Holden up.” He felt sick as he spoke the words, but Dusty’s life was the job. Without it, Noah knew he’d crawl right back into the bottle and Noah would lose him forever.
“Good,” the Captain said simply. “Now get out.” I’m sick of you was unspoken but heard.
Noah moved slowly, as if walking through water, as he left the office, closing the door behind him quietly. He started back towards his desk, startling when Margo, one of the detectives who’d been at the precinct for the longest, snagged him around the elbow and tugged him to a stop. “I believe you,” she said firmly but quietly. “I know the Snyders, I know the family, Holden didn’t do this.”
Noah just nodded and pulled away from her grip gently. That was good to hear, but it didn’t change anything. Noah nodded at Dusty and grabbed his jacket, badge and gun. Dusty followed suit without words and they strode from the precinct in silent unison.
-
part one | part two | art post