Title: Chris Pine: Bounty Hunter! 1/4
Title: Chris Pine: Bounty Hunter! (or The Difference Between a Good Cop and a Bad Cop) 1/4
Pairing: Chris/Zach, Brief mention of Chris/others
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: This part 4,524. Overall 18,000
Summary: Bounty hunter AU. Chris hunts Zach. Drugs! Prostitites! Murder! Doritos! All are inside.
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. I make no money by doing this. I only get the satisfaction of making the pintofest deadline on time. Thank GOD.
When I was twelve I received my first kiss from an older boy. His name was Joe and, immediately afterward, he punched me in the face.
I've since learned to pick my men a little better.
The other kids his age made some bet, which was how I wound up with my arms around his neck one minute and facedown in a dumpster the next. If only I hadn't had my moment of homosexual clarity so soon and realized I liked boys more than girls, maybe none of this would've happened.
Okay, so it would have all still happened, but maybe then I wouldn't have ended up walking home picking brown lettuce out of the back of my shirt.
Maybe I should back up a little bit. My name is Chris Pine, and I'm a fugitive apprehension agent. Or a bounty hunter, if you want to be a dick about it. My sister Kat thinks bounty hunter sounds way more cool, but what's a lesbian bulldyke to know about etiquette? I even have little cards with just my name, job title, and newest cell phone number. My 'assistant' (and I use the word 'assistant' very, very loosely here) Karl thinks it's stupid to get them, because my cell phones tend to go the way of the dodo every month or so, but I only order the cards twenty five at a time.
I work for my uncle, Bruce, who owns the illustrious Enterprise Bonds bail bonds office in Los Angeles. Bruce is mostly cool, although he can be severely unhinged. Right now, staring at his red face as I'm standing defiantly in his doorway, looks like one of those times.
"You can't quit on me again, Christopher! I need you." Bruce slammed his hand down on the desk, as though his show of virility was going to make me quiver in my Doc Martens. I knew better. "If this is about that Ayel fiasco..."
I huffed, throwing my hands in the air. "Oh, hang Ayel. That guy chained me to his bed, Bruce." I heard a muffled snort coming from somewhere behind me, most likely the origins of John's desk. "The man showers monthly, and changes his sheets even less than that. Do you have any idea how much lube and unidentifiable substances I had to roll around in to get free?"
"You were freed thanks to Nero, not because of any major feats of skill you possess." Karl called out from the front office, perched on John's desk. I glanced behind me to see the two traitors sharing a bag of Doritos and watching the scene avidly. Assholes.
"The point is I've been chained up, stunned, shot at, and, most recently, gassed far too many times for my health." To prove my point, I picked a stray piece of... something pretty fucking gross from my pant leg and shook it in his direction. "Do you know what this is?"
Bruce sighed and sat back, steepling his hands in front of him. "It looks like... straw?" He squinted and leaned forward a little. "Wait, didn't you do the Shields pick up today?"
"The guy threw me into a compost pile, Bruce!" I threw it in his face and pulled out my handcuffs from my back pocket. I tossed them onto the desk, along with my Bond Enforcement Agent ID badge. "You can't stop me from quitting."
"No, but maybe I can talk a little sense into you."
The voice. Oh, the voice. Something inside of me may have melted a little when that rough voice slid over my ear. I turned slowly, my eyes getting their fill of the hard body in front of me. Nero was sneaky like that. How the man moved without making a sound is beyond me. I didn't even hear the front door open.
Nero, or Eric Bana as I'd recently found out (and no wonder the guy went by a name like Nero; Eric was a pretty embarrassing name for someone so smooth), was another one of the bounty hunters in Bruce's little clan. He only came around when the really high profile guys went missing, or when the shenanigans I'd gotten up to recently reached his all knowing ears. So either Tony Soprano was on the loose or...
I threw a glare at Karl, who grinned through a mouthful of fake orange cheese. He was such a fucking traitor.
"No, no talking. No sense. I am done with all of this." I said, placing my hands on my hips. I firmly intended to stand my ground, even while those dark eyes raked over my body. "Nothing you can say or do will make me change my mind."
"Nothing?" Nero reached around me to pull the handgun from the back of my pants and I heard Bruce make a choked noise from behind the desk. Good. Give the bastard a thrill and hope for a heart attack.
I swallowed, caught in the web of musk and danger that seemed to ooze out of his pores. "Nothing."
Nero pulled the clip and sighed when he realized there were no bullets in the gun. He closed his eyes briefly and I was allowed to let my eyes wander over the tattoo that slid from around his neck into his shirt. "I thought we discussed this."
He reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a full clip. He expertly slid the full clip into the gun and wrapped both arms around me, tucking the gun back inside of my waistband. Karl was suddenly hit with a violent bout of coughing as Nero untucked my shirt over it, his hot hands leaving trails of fire in their wake.
"Zachary Quinto is wanted for murder." Nero told me quietly. I narrowed my eyes at him, even while I felt a phantom hand squeezing my insides.
***
The Thing about Zach and I
***
So. Zach and I may have this weird kind of relationship where we don't call it a relationship. I mean, he still tries to bully his way into dinner at my parents the occasional Sunday night, and he hates Nero (and the fact that I've slept with him) with a burning passion, and sometimes likes to crawl into my bed after he's come off of the night shift and spend the morning drowsing in between my sheets. But that doesn't mean that we're a couple or anything.
And yet when Nero tells me this something deep down grabs hold my of heart and squeezes. What the fuck?
"What the fuck?" I asked, eyes wide. "Murder?"
"He was found this morning in a back room at Harlot in bed with a dead prostitute." Nero kept his eyes on my face when Karl gasped and dropped the bag. "The kid was seventeen, and so full of speedballs it's a wonder he could even walk, let alone engage in the kind of activity it was obvious he was engaged in last night."
I crossed my arms over my chest while a ball of ice lodged its way into my stomach. This sounded a lot more like the 'Zach from the past', the one who used to screw girls and guys alike and then leave their undergarments hanging in the trophy case at school.
"Who found him?" I asked, even as my mind kept up an internal movie of the 'Zach from now' stripping someone else, smiling down while that stupid foppish hair curled against his forehead with sweat.
"Abrams." Nero said. I heard John and Karl murmuring quietly in the distance as I sucked in a breath. JJ Abrams was the chief of police. He was a proud man, a religious man, and a real stickler for rules. He also happened to be Zach's boss. Chances of him being lenient on Zach were slim to none, considering he thought Zach was going to burn in a fiery pit for being a gigantic, sinning homo. "Zach managed to incapacitate him long enough to make it out the back door, and no one's seen him since."
I breathed in as a million scenarios played out in my head. Okay, so Zach woke up in bed with a dead person, punched out his boss, and was now on the run. Things... really didn't look too good for him where I stood.
"He didn't do it." I shook my head, unable to comprehend. Zach was a pain in the ass, sure, and one of the most arrogant sons of bitches I knew, but he wasn't a killer. "There's no way. The hardest drug Zach's ever taken has been marijuana, and he doesn't even smoke that shit anymore. And he may have indulged himself in the wonders of percocet once or twice in the past, but who in LA hasn't? There's no way he could have even touched any form of powdered substance, except maybe pixie stix. He would never condone this kind of behavior, let alone give enough of it to kill a horse to a kid."
I was positive Zach didn't do it. I mean, he could get rough in bed at times but I kind of liked it when he tried to reassure me (read: himself) of his masculinity. And we might've done ecstasy together that one time last year, but we were both on vacation (not together) and got to spend the entire next day indoors. That was memorable. My kitchen table never quite recovered.
However, I was leaving the whole prostitute thing untouched. I mean, we aren't a couple, so it's not like he isn't entitled to getting his dick wet somewhere else if he wants. I didn't expect him to have to pay for it, though. This was strange. Zach, drugs and a dead hooker just didn't add up.
"He didn't die of an overdose. The kid was strangled." Nero told me. I shivered and one of those hard, tattooed arms wrapped around my waist, compost be damned. Sometimes Nero was such a gentleman. "Forensics is working to pull any kind of markers from his neck. If they find anything of Quinto's he's going to fry. Abrams is crying for his blood."
I nodded, distracted. I was too busy thinking, trying to sort this out somehow in my head. I bit my bottom lip and lost myself for a while until Nero squeezed. I let out a small 'eep' and heard something that sounded like a sigh from the vicinity of John's desk.
"You alright?" Nero asked. I extracted myself from his grasp before I could get lost in those eyes again. It took a few moments.
"I need to shower." I narrowed my eyes in Bruce's direction. He focused his eyes on the paperwork on his desk and wisely kept them there. "And I still quit." I watched Bruce's hands crinkle the edges of whatever bullshit forms he was reading over.
"Chris, Quinto needs you now more than ever and you're going to quit?" Karl pushed his leather clad ass off of John's desk and ambled over to where Nero was still breathing in my air. Karl smiled widely at him and cocked his hip out. "Well hello there, stranger."
Nero stared at the sheer black shirt that was failing to do its job of covering Karl's chest for just a second. Then he smiled fiercely at Karl, all teeth, and Karl took a hasty step backwards. I reached out and grabbed his arm before he could go too far.
"You're taking me home, so I can shower and change. And let me borrow your phone."
Karl rolled his eyes and caught the roll of trash bags John threw at him. "What happened to the red one? It was cute."
"If you want to go searching through Brother Shields compost to find it, you are more than welcome." I eyed his legs warily. "You might want to change first, though."
"C'mon, princess." Karl detached one of the garbage bags and draped it over my shoulders. His arm followed moments later as he ushered me through the front door. I managed a halfhearted wave over my shoulder to John and got a cheery 'Later pumpkin!' for my efforts. "Let's get you to your tower."
I looked around for Nero before walking out, but the bastard had done one of his melt-into-the-shadows routines and was nowhere to be found. I sighed.
I wish I had those kinds of skills.
Karl pulled out his keys and hit some complicated sequence into the remote. The alarm on his dark green Corvette started blaring loudly. I stared at Karl for a second, watching him curse and type in another sequence to shut it off. The lock finally clicked, two tries later, and I made to get into the car. Only Karl grabbed me by the scuff of my neck and yanked me backwards so hard I lost my footing.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Karl screeched, waving the trashbags. I fell back onto my very sore ass and watched Karl climb in. "Do you have any idea how much the interior of this car cost?! I can't have you killing the leather with..." he glanced over his shoulder at my and we both looked down at my brown legs. "Whatever that sludge is. Jesus."
Half a roll of trash bags later I was finally allowed in and we were off.
***
The Past Life of Karl Urban
***
"So, am I supposed to wait for you and take you somewhere when you're done, or do I just let you rot at the bottom of the tub while you listen to Barry Manilow for a few hours?"
I scooped a piece of brown goop from the crevice behind my left knee and reached out, smearing it down one of his scruffy cheeks as I opened the door. Karl squealed and planted one booted foot on my side, kicking me out of the car effectively enough to make me stumble into another car in the lot. I smiled as I waved goodbye and Karl drove off with his finger waving cheerfully out the window.
Depressed, confused and covered in filth I took the back entrance into the crappy complex I lived in. As I trudged up the stairs I ran what I knew over and over in my head. Zach had left mine early Thursday night, pissy I wouldn't go with him to Ben's stupid promotion party. Like I cared if his mentor was getting some kind of medal or whatever. He wasn't pissed enough to sleep with someone else, or murder them after. I was pretty sure of it.
He usually only threatened to sleep with someone else when I teamed up with Nero for a job.
I finally reached the seventh floor and by the time I stuck my key in the lock I was ready for a meal, a nap and a shower. I sniffed myself. Maybe not exactly in that order.
I opened the door and nearly dropped my keys. Zach practically pounced on me. Then he hastily recoiled as some of the gunk stuck to me latched onto his person.
"Jesus, Chris. What the hell?" Zach asked, staring at me. I stared back and there was quiet for a few seconds. Then I slammed the door and we both started yelling.
"I didn't fucking do it!"
"You're wanted for fucking murder!"
"Jesus Christ, you smell like a pile of shit!"
"You're going to drive me into an early fucking grave!"
"You?! You drive around with a hooker and zip tie criminals to lamp posts!"
"That was one fucking time and shut the fuck up! They think you killed someone!"
"You don't though, right?"
Zach looked at me pleadingly. I glared and yanked my button down out of my pants. The stare suddenly changed as Zach's eyes latched onto my waist.
"Hey, eyes up here asshole." I ripped at the buttons angrily. Zach seemed to realize at that moment that he now smelled like a pile of shit as well and tore off the stained Frankie Says Re- "That's my favorite fucking shirt!"
"Maybe if you didn't have a job that gives me gray hair and turns you into a walking compost pile you wouldn't have to worry about gunking it up with whatever substance you've been rolling around in with your puppy." Zach scowled as he worked at his belt. I pushed past him and stormed down the hall to the bathroom, tossing soiled clothing to the floor in my wake.
I turned the tap on as hot as I could handle and kicked my shoes off. Zach walked in in time to get hit in the leg with a flying green Nike.
"Ow." He deadpanned. Then he began to take off those deliciously tight jeans and I lost my train of thought momentarily. When my eyes made it back up to his face he was smiling. I huffed and stepped into the shower.
Fuck, I still had my pants on. I just shrugged and let them soak as well.
A pair of strong, lightly furred arms wrapped around my waist as Zach nuzzled into my neck. He pressed up against me from behind then sighed as he pulled away long enough to pull the gun from the back of my pants. He thrust his hand outside the curtain and placed it gently on top of the toilet, then returned and latched onto me like a damn leech.
"Tell me you know I didn't do it." He said quietly. I stood with my hands pressed to the ceramic and hung my head. I knew. Of course I knew. Only I was so pissed he managed to get himself into this kind of stupid situation that I wanted him to feel my fury.
"You need to get out of here." I told the tiles. The arms around my waist tightened. "Everyone knows to come here looking for you, idiot. What the hell made you think this was a good idea?"
Zach pressed his hot mouth to my throat and I couldn't help it. I tilted my head to the side and moaned.
"There. That sound." Zach purred into my ear. "Making you make that noise will always be a good idea." He slid his hands down and began to unbutton my pants. I let go of the wall long enough to halt his hand.
"Did you sleep with that kid?" I hated that my voice sounded so small. But I had to know. I mean, we never set any lines in this weird relationship we had going, but him actually sleeping with someone else would definitely be one that he crossed.
"Of course not, Chris." He actually sounded affronted that I would have to ask. He even pulled his hand away long enough to spin me around so I was staring at his wet, forlorn face. "How can you even? I thought you knew."
"We never made any promises, so." I held his gaze. This might not go over very well. "Hell, I slept with someone else while we were on that break."
"It wasn't a break." His face darkened briefly, eyes flashing before he let it go and began to work on my pants again with gusto. "And never mention him again ever while I'm trying to get you naked."
I smiled the tiniest little grin at his jealousy and allowed him to peel my soggy jeans down. We left them as a wet hunk of crap at the bottom of the shower while Zach tightly wrapped his wet hand around my dick. Jesus, he knew exactly to handle me.
"This is the only slice of beefcake I've had in two years." He told me while he slowly stroked. "I would prefer if you remained faithful to mine as well."
"How everyone thinks you're the top in this relationship when you call my dick a slice of beefcake blows my mind, it really does." I grabbed his hips and turned him around, pressing him up against the tile. Zach made a soft noise and braced himself.
"C'mon and do me already." He pressed his ass back and rubbed it against my beefcake. "I lubed up while I was waiting."
Something in my stomach flared white hot at that and without another word of encouragement I stabbed home. Zach made a high pitched noise and scrabbled at the tiles.
"God, fuck, yes." He moaned and began working his hips in short movements. I steadied myself and began a punishing, brutal rhythm that had the little cage I kept my products in rattling where it hung from the shower head.
"How the fuck do you get into these situations?" I muttered, pressing my chest against his back. Zach moaned in reply. "Last summer you got doped up in an investigation on insurance fraud. Now you're wanted for whacking a fucking prostitute." I shoved up hard and forced Zach to his toes.
"I think someone, ooh yeah, yeah right there." Zach let go of the wall with one hand and covered the arm I had wrapped around his waist. He threaded our fingers together. "I think some drugged me. I still feel woozy."
I laughed into his neck a little hysterically and closed my eyes. "Only you, baby." My breath hitched when Zach clenched his cheeks.
"If you'd just come with me last night none of this would've have happened, you know." He turned his head to the side and nosed at my cheek. I opened my mouth and obliged, stroking my tongue softly against his.
"Stop talking already." I grunted into his mouth, sliding our linked hands down to his cock. I stroked gently, knowing he didn't really need the added stimulation. But I was on edge already from all of this bullshit and I needed to let go now. I wanted him there with me.
Zach broke the kiss and dropped his head onto my shoulder. The pitch of his moaning changed when I adjusted the angle and his whole body started shaking.
"Just like that, Chris." He let go of my hand and brought it up to grasp at the short hairs on the back of my neck. I pounded fast and hard at that exact spot and opened my eyes. He was gorgeous when he came, every single time. His face relaxed and went all soft in a way that told me more than any words ever could.
I watched him try to open his eyes, groggy dark brown ones locking onto my own as he let out a quiet whine. I felt his come, hot and thick, cover my hand and had the presence of mind to let go quickly because he got extremely sensitive after orgasm. Zach sagged into me and pushed his ass back as hard as he could.
A few grunts later I melted into his back, hips jerking uncontrollably as I released inside of him. He scritched his short nails across my scalp as we both gasped for air in the thick fog. We remained like that for a few minutes, letting the water run over our spent bodies. Then Zach kissed my cheek and began to pull away. I let my cock slip out, but tightened my arms.
"You should turn yourself in." I told him. Zach looked at me like he thought I was crazy and yanked himself back. He tripped over the wet mess that once were my favorite jeans and almost gave me a heart attack when I thought he was going to split his head open on the tile. We clutched at each other while he regained his footing and then just stood there staring at each other.
"If you didn't do it, then there will be no problem proving your innocence." I tried to reason, running my hands up and down his arms reassuringly.
Zach looked like I'd suggested we take his dog and fry him up for barbecue tonight. "I need to disappear. I can't turn myself in for a crime I didn't commit. Haven't you heard of the little phrase 'guilty until proven innocent' Christopher?" He reached behind me and angrily turned the taps to the shower. A blast of cold water hit my back before it stopped completely. Cruel. "I can't go to jail, even for a few days. I'm a goddamn cop. Do you have any idea what happens to cops in jail?"
"Be reasonable, Zach!" I yanked the curtain open and stomped out. I grabbed the closest towel off the rack and threw it at his beautiful face. I pulled another down much more calmly and began to work it all over my body. "Disappearing right now makes you look guilty as sin. Just." I stopped and put my hand to my forehead, rubbing tiredly. "Let me look into this."
Zach shook his head and swiped at his hair with the towel. "Please. The last thing I need is for you and your puppy to go mucking about in this investigation." He brushed by me and walked down the hall into the bedroom. I heard him rummaging through my drawers and shook my head. I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered how in the hell my life ended up like this.
A bounty hunter. Working with an ex hooker. And a not-really-a-boyfriend wanted for murder. My life was like something the E channel should be video taping.
"Just so you know, I quit today." I told Zach as I entered my bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling a pair of thick gray socks onto his hairy feet. He looked up at me when I walked in and some of the darkness in his face disappeared.
"Really?" He asked, standing. I took a moment to be offended that he was wearing my favorite black cardigan over one of the pairs of loose yoga pants he kept at my house. He always seemed to search out my favorite articles of clothing. I would find it sweet if I thought I'd ever see it again. "It's about damn time. I can't handle the thought of you getting shot at on a daily basis."
"You and me both." I covered his head with the towel and walked over to the dresser. I pulled on a pair of dark blue sweatpants and a white tee. When I turned around Zach was lounging backwards watching the show. "I'm still going to look into this, Zach." I told him seriously while I climbed into bed over the covers. It was only four in the afternoon but I was exhausted.
Zach crawled up and met me in the middle, wrapping himself around me like a big human blanket. "I know." He pressed a kiss to my damp temple and we both shifted around until that silent 'click' happened and we sagged into the mattress. "Let's talk about it more in the morning."
"It's only four." I yawned into his neck. Zach's hands smoothed down my back and I nearly purred.
"In the middle of the night, then." He told me sleepily.
I hummed in agreement and fell asleep to the soft fuzz of my own sweater rubbing against my face.
***
Onwards and upwards.
Pairing: Chris/Zach, Brief mention of Chris/others
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: This part 4,524. Overall 18,000
Summary: Bounty hunter AU. Chris hunts Zach. Drugs! Prostitites! Murder! Doritos! All are inside.
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. I make no money by doing this. I only get the satisfaction of making the pintofest deadline on time. Thank GOD.
When I was twelve I received my first kiss from an older boy. His name was Joe and, immediately afterward, he punched me in the face.
I've since learned to pick my men a little better.
The other kids his age made some bet, which was how I wound up with my arms around his neck one minute and facedown in a dumpster the next. If only I hadn't had my moment of homosexual clarity so soon and realized I liked boys more than girls, maybe none of this would've happened.
Okay, so it would have all still happened, but maybe then I wouldn't have ended up walking home picking brown lettuce out of the back of my shirt.
Maybe I should back up a little bit. My name is Chris Pine, and I'm a fugitive apprehension agent. Or a bounty hunter, if you want to be a dick about it. My sister Kat thinks bounty hunter sounds way more cool, but what's a lesbian bulldyke to know about etiquette? I even have little cards with just my name, job title, and newest cell phone number. My 'assistant' (and I use the word 'assistant' very, very loosely here) Karl thinks it's stupid to get them, because my cell phones tend to go the way of the dodo every month or so, but I only order the cards twenty five at a time.
I work for my uncle, Bruce, who owns the illustrious Enterprise Bonds bail bonds office in Los Angeles. Bruce is mostly cool, although he can be severely unhinged. Right now, staring at his red face as I'm standing defiantly in his doorway, looks like one of those times.
"You can't quit on me again, Christopher! I need you." Bruce slammed his hand down on the desk, as though his show of virility was going to make me quiver in my Doc Martens. I knew better. "If this is about that Ayel fiasco..."
I huffed, throwing my hands in the air. "Oh, hang Ayel. That guy chained me to his bed, Bruce." I heard a muffled snort coming from somewhere behind me, most likely the origins of John's desk. "The man showers monthly, and changes his sheets even less than that. Do you have any idea how much lube and unidentifiable substances I had to roll around in to get free?"
"You were freed thanks to Nero, not because of any major feats of skill you possess." Karl called out from the front office, perched on John's desk. I glanced behind me to see the two traitors sharing a bag of Doritos and watching the scene avidly. Assholes.
"The point is I've been chained up, stunned, shot at, and, most recently, gassed far too many times for my health." To prove my point, I picked a stray piece of... something pretty fucking gross from my pant leg and shook it in his direction. "Do you know what this is?"
Bruce sighed and sat back, steepling his hands in front of him. "It looks like... straw?" He squinted and leaned forward a little. "Wait, didn't you do the Shields pick up today?"
"The guy threw me into a compost pile, Bruce!" I threw it in his face and pulled out my handcuffs from my back pocket. I tossed them onto the desk, along with my Bond Enforcement Agent ID badge. "You can't stop me from quitting."
"No, but maybe I can talk a little sense into you."
The voice. Oh, the voice. Something inside of me may have melted a little when that rough voice slid over my ear. I turned slowly, my eyes getting their fill of the hard body in front of me. Nero was sneaky like that. How the man moved without making a sound is beyond me. I didn't even hear the front door open.
Nero, or Eric Bana as I'd recently found out (and no wonder the guy went by a name like Nero; Eric was a pretty embarrassing name for someone so smooth), was another one of the bounty hunters in Bruce's little clan. He only came around when the really high profile guys went missing, or when the shenanigans I'd gotten up to recently reached his all knowing ears. So either Tony Soprano was on the loose or...
I threw a glare at Karl, who grinned through a mouthful of fake orange cheese. He was such a fucking traitor.
"No, no talking. No sense. I am done with all of this." I said, placing my hands on my hips. I firmly intended to stand my ground, even while those dark eyes raked over my body. "Nothing you can say or do will make me change my mind."
"Nothing?" Nero reached around me to pull the handgun from the back of my pants and I heard Bruce make a choked noise from behind the desk. Good. Give the bastard a thrill and hope for a heart attack.
I swallowed, caught in the web of musk and danger that seemed to ooze out of his pores. "Nothing."
Nero pulled the clip and sighed when he realized there were no bullets in the gun. He closed his eyes briefly and I was allowed to let my eyes wander over the tattoo that slid from around his neck into his shirt. "I thought we discussed this."
He reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a full clip. He expertly slid the full clip into the gun and wrapped both arms around me, tucking the gun back inside of my waistband. Karl was suddenly hit with a violent bout of coughing as Nero untucked my shirt over it, his hot hands leaving trails of fire in their wake.
"Zachary Quinto is wanted for murder." Nero told me quietly. I narrowed my eyes at him, even while I felt a phantom hand squeezing my insides.
***
The Thing about Zach and I
***
So. Zach and I may have this weird kind of relationship where we don't call it a relationship. I mean, he still tries to bully his way into dinner at my parents the occasional Sunday night, and he hates Nero (and the fact that I've slept with him) with a burning passion, and sometimes likes to crawl into my bed after he's come off of the night shift and spend the morning drowsing in between my sheets. But that doesn't mean that we're a couple or anything.
And yet when Nero tells me this something deep down grabs hold my of heart and squeezes. What the fuck?
"What the fuck?" I asked, eyes wide. "Murder?"
"He was found this morning in a back room at Harlot in bed with a dead prostitute." Nero kept his eyes on my face when Karl gasped and dropped the bag. "The kid was seventeen, and so full of speedballs it's a wonder he could even walk, let alone engage in the kind of activity it was obvious he was engaged in last night."
I crossed my arms over my chest while a ball of ice lodged its way into my stomach. This sounded a lot more like the 'Zach from the past', the one who used to screw girls and guys alike and then leave their undergarments hanging in the trophy case at school.
"Who found him?" I asked, even as my mind kept up an internal movie of the 'Zach from now' stripping someone else, smiling down while that stupid foppish hair curled against his forehead with sweat.
"Abrams." Nero said. I heard John and Karl murmuring quietly in the distance as I sucked in a breath. JJ Abrams was the chief of police. He was a proud man, a religious man, and a real stickler for rules. He also happened to be Zach's boss. Chances of him being lenient on Zach were slim to none, considering he thought Zach was going to burn in a fiery pit for being a gigantic, sinning homo. "Zach managed to incapacitate him long enough to make it out the back door, and no one's seen him since."
I breathed in as a million scenarios played out in my head. Okay, so Zach woke up in bed with a dead person, punched out his boss, and was now on the run. Things... really didn't look too good for him where I stood.
"He didn't do it." I shook my head, unable to comprehend. Zach was a pain in the ass, sure, and one of the most arrogant sons of bitches I knew, but he wasn't a killer. "There's no way. The hardest drug Zach's ever taken has been marijuana, and he doesn't even smoke that shit anymore. And he may have indulged himself in the wonders of percocet once or twice in the past, but who in LA hasn't? There's no way he could have even touched any form of powdered substance, except maybe pixie stix. He would never condone this kind of behavior, let alone give enough of it to kill a horse to a kid."
I was positive Zach didn't do it. I mean, he could get rough in bed at times but I kind of liked it when he tried to reassure me (read: himself) of his masculinity. And we might've done ecstasy together that one time last year, but we were both on vacation (not together) and got to spend the entire next day indoors. That was memorable. My kitchen table never quite recovered.
However, I was leaving the whole prostitute thing untouched. I mean, we aren't a couple, so it's not like he isn't entitled to getting his dick wet somewhere else if he wants. I didn't expect him to have to pay for it, though. This was strange. Zach, drugs and a dead hooker just didn't add up.
"He didn't die of an overdose. The kid was strangled." Nero told me. I shivered and one of those hard, tattooed arms wrapped around my waist, compost be damned. Sometimes Nero was such a gentleman. "Forensics is working to pull any kind of markers from his neck. If they find anything of Quinto's he's going to fry. Abrams is crying for his blood."
I nodded, distracted. I was too busy thinking, trying to sort this out somehow in my head. I bit my bottom lip and lost myself for a while until Nero squeezed. I let out a small 'eep' and heard something that sounded like a sigh from the vicinity of John's desk.
"You alright?" Nero asked. I extracted myself from his grasp before I could get lost in those eyes again. It took a few moments.
"I need to shower." I narrowed my eyes in Bruce's direction. He focused his eyes on the paperwork on his desk and wisely kept them there. "And I still quit." I watched Bruce's hands crinkle the edges of whatever bullshit forms he was reading over.
"Chris, Quinto needs you now more than ever and you're going to quit?" Karl pushed his leather clad ass off of John's desk and ambled over to where Nero was still breathing in my air. Karl smiled widely at him and cocked his hip out. "Well hello there, stranger."
Nero stared at the sheer black shirt that was failing to do its job of covering Karl's chest for just a second. Then he smiled fiercely at Karl, all teeth, and Karl took a hasty step backwards. I reached out and grabbed his arm before he could go too far.
"You're taking me home, so I can shower and change. And let me borrow your phone."
Karl rolled his eyes and caught the roll of trash bags John threw at him. "What happened to the red one? It was cute."
"If you want to go searching through Brother Shields compost to find it, you are more than welcome." I eyed his legs warily. "You might want to change first, though."
"C'mon, princess." Karl detached one of the garbage bags and draped it over my shoulders. His arm followed moments later as he ushered me through the front door. I managed a halfhearted wave over my shoulder to John and got a cheery 'Later pumpkin!' for my efforts. "Let's get you to your tower."
I looked around for Nero before walking out, but the bastard had done one of his melt-into-the-shadows routines and was nowhere to be found. I sighed.
I wish I had those kinds of skills.
Karl pulled out his keys and hit some complicated sequence into the remote. The alarm on his dark green Corvette started blaring loudly. I stared at Karl for a second, watching him curse and type in another sequence to shut it off. The lock finally clicked, two tries later, and I made to get into the car. Only Karl grabbed me by the scuff of my neck and yanked me backwards so hard I lost my footing.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Karl screeched, waving the trashbags. I fell back onto my very sore ass and watched Karl climb in. "Do you have any idea how much the interior of this car cost?! I can't have you killing the leather with..." he glanced over his shoulder at my and we both looked down at my brown legs. "Whatever that sludge is. Jesus."
Half a roll of trash bags later I was finally allowed in and we were off.
***
The Past Life of Karl Urban
***
"So, am I supposed to wait for you and take you somewhere when you're done, or do I just let you rot at the bottom of the tub while you listen to Barry Manilow for a few hours?"
I scooped a piece of brown goop from the crevice behind my left knee and reached out, smearing it down one of his scruffy cheeks as I opened the door. Karl squealed and planted one booted foot on my side, kicking me out of the car effectively enough to make me stumble into another car in the lot. I smiled as I waved goodbye and Karl drove off with his finger waving cheerfully out the window.
Depressed, confused and covered in filth I took the back entrance into the crappy complex I lived in. As I trudged up the stairs I ran what I knew over and over in my head. Zach had left mine early Thursday night, pissy I wouldn't go with him to Ben's stupid promotion party. Like I cared if his mentor was getting some kind of medal or whatever. He wasn't pissed enough to sleep with someone else, or murder them after. I was pretty sure of it.
He usually only threatened to sleep with someone else when I teamed up with Nero for a job.
I finally reached the seventh floor and by the time I stuck my key in the lock I was ready for a meal, a nap and a shower. I sniffed myself. Maybe not exactly in that order.
I opened the door and nearly dropped my keys. Zach practically pounced on me. Then he hastily recoiled as some of the gunk stuck to me latched onto his person.
"Jesus, Chris. What the hell?" Zach asked, staring at me. I stared back and there was quiet for a few seconds. Then I slammed the door and we both started yelling.
"I didn't fucking do it!"
"You're wanted for fucking murder!"
"Jesus Christ, you smell like a pile of shit!"
"You're going to drive me into an early fucking grave!"
"You?! You drive around with a hooker and zip tie criminals to lamp posts!"
"That was one fucking time and shut the fuck up! They think you killed someone!"
"You don't though, right?"
Zach looked at me pleadingly. I glared and yanked my button down out of my pants. The stare suddenly changed as Zach's eyes latched onto my waist.
"Hey, eyes up here asshole." I ripped at the buttons angrily. Zach seemed to realize at that moment that he now smelled like a pile of shit as well and tore off the stained Frankie Says Re- "That's my favorite fucking shirt!"
"Maybe if you didn't have a job that gives me gray hair and turns you into a walking compost pile you wouldn't have to worry about gunking it up with whatever substance you've been rolling around in with your puppy." Zach scowled as he worked at his belt. I pushed past him and stormed down the hall to the bathroom, tossing soiled clothing to the floor in my wake.
I turned the tap on as hot as I could handle and kicked my shoes off. Zach walked in in time to get hit in the leg with a flying green Nike.
"Ow." He deadpanned. Then he began to take off those deliciously tight jeans and I lost my train of thought momentarily. When my eyes made it back up to his face he was smiling. I huffed and stepped into the shower.
Fuck, I still had my pants on. I just shrugged and let them soak as well.
A pair of strong, lightly furred arms wrapped around my waist as Zach nuzzled into my neck. He pressed up against me from behind then sighed as he pulled away long enough to pull the gun from the back of my pants. He thrust his hand outside the curtain and placed it gently on top of the toilet, then returned and latched onto me like a damn leech.
"Tell me you know I didn't do it." He said quietly. I stood with my hands pressed to the ceramic and hung my head. I knew. Of course I knew. Only I was so pissed he managed to get himself into this kind of stupid situation that I wanted him to feel my fury.
"You need to get out of here." I told the tiles. The arms around my waist tightened. "Everyone knows to come here looking for you, idiot. What the hell made you think this was a good idea?"
Zach pressed his hot mouth to my throat and I couldn't help it. I tilted my head to the side and moaned.
"There. That sound." Zach purred into my ear. "Making you make that noise will always be a good idea." He slid his hands down and began to unbutton my pants. I let go of the wall long enough to halt his hand.
"Did you sleep with that kid?" I hated that my voice sounded so small. But I had to know. I mean, we never set any lines in this weird relationship we had going, but him actually sleeping with someone else would definitely be one that he crossed.
"Of course not, Chris." He actually sounded affronted that I would have to ask. He even pulled his hand away long enough to spin me around so I was staring at his wet, forlorn face. "How can you even? I thought you knew."
"We never made any promises, so." I held his gaze. This might not go over very well. "Hell, I slept with someone else while we were on that break."
"It wasn't a break." His face darkened briefly, eyes flashing before he let it go and began to work on my pants again with gusto. "And never mention him again ever while I'm trying to get you naked."
I smiled the tiniest little grin at his jealousy and allowed him to peel my soggy jeans down. We left them as a wet hunk of crap at the bottom of the shower while Zach tightly wrapped his wet hand around my dick. Jesus, he knew exactly to handle me.
"This is the only slice of beefcake I've had in two years." He told me while he slowly stroked. "I would prefer if you remained faithful to mine as well."
"How everyone thinks you're the top in this relationship when you call my dick a slice of beefcake blows my mind, it really does." I grabbed his hips and turned him around, pressing him up against the tile. Zach made a soft noise and braced himself.
"C'mon and do me already." He pressed his ass back and rubbed it against my beefcake. "I lubed up while I was waiting."
Something in my stomach flared white hot at that and without another word of encouragement I stabbed home. Zach made a high pitched noise and scrabbled at the tiles.
"God, fuck, yes." He moaned and began working his hips in short movements. I steadied myself and began a punishing, brutal rhythm that had the little cage I kept my products in rattling where it hung from the shower head.
"How the fuck do you get into these situations?" I muttered, pressing my chest against his back. Zach moaned in reply. "Last summer you got doped up in an investigation on insurance fraud. Now you're wanted for whacking a fucking prostitute." I shoved up hard and forced Zach to his toes.
"I think someone, ooh yeah, yeah right there." Zach let go of the wall with one hand and covered the arm I had wrapped around his waist. He threaded our fingers together. "I think some drugged me. I still feel woozy."
I laughed into his neck a little hysterically and closed my eyes. "Only you, baby." My breath hitched when Zach clenched his cheeks.
"If you'd just come with me last night none of this would've have happened, you know." He turned his head to the side and nosed at my cheek. I opened my mouth and obliged, stroking my tongue softly against his.
"Stop talking already." I grunted into his mouth, sliding our linked hands down to his cock. I stroked gently, knowing he didn't really need the added stimulation. But I was on edge already from all of this bullshit and I needed to let go now. I wanted him there with me.
Zach broke the kiss and dropped his head onto my shoulder. The pitch of his moaning changed when I adjusted the angle and his whole body started shaking.
"Just like that, Chris." He let go of my hand and brought it up to grasp at the short hairs on the back of my neck. I pounded fast and hard at that exact spot and opened my eyes. He was gorgeous when he came, every single time. His face relaxed and went all soft in a way that told me more than any words ever could.
I watched him try to open his eyes, groggy dark brown ones locking onto my own as he let out a quiet whine. I felt his come, hot and thick, cover my hand and had the presence of mind to let go quickly because he got extremely sensitive after orgasm. Zach sagged into me and pushed his ass back as hard as he could.
A few grunts later I melted into his back, hips jerking uncontrollably as I released inside of him. He scritched his short nails across my scalp as we both gasped for air in the thick fog. We remained like that for a few minutes, letting the water run over our spent bodies. Then Zach kissed my cheek and began to pull away. I let my cock slip out, but tightened my arms.
"You should turn yourself in." I told him. Zach looked at me like he thought I was crazy and yanked himself back. He tripped over the wet mess that once were my favorite jeans and almost gave me a heart attack when I thought he was going to split his head open on the tile. We clutched at each other while he regained his footing and then just stood there staring at each other.
"If you didn't do it, then there will be no problem proving your innocence." I tried to reason, running my hands up and down his arms reassuringly.
Zach looked like I'd suggested we take his dog and fry him up for barbecue tonight. "I need to disappear. I can't turn myself in for a crime I didn't commit. Haven't you heard of the little phrase 'guilty until proven innocent' Christopher?" He reached behind me and angrily turned the taps to the shower. A blast of cold water hit my back before it stopped completely. Cruel. "I can't go to jail, even for a few days. I'm a goddamn cop. Do you have any idea what happens to cops in jail?"
"Be reasonable, Zach!" I yanked the curtain open and stomped out. I grabbed the closest towel off the rack and threw it at his beautiful face. I pulled another down much more calmly and began to work it all over my body. "Disappearing right now makes you look guilty as sin. Just." I stopped and put my hand to my forehead, rubbing tiredly. "Let me look into this."
Zach shook his head and swiped at his hair with the towel. "Please. The last thing I need is for you and your puppy to go mucking about in this investigation." He brushed by me and walked down the hall into the bedroom. I heard him rummaging through my drawers and shook my head. I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered how in the hell my life ended up like this.
A bounty hunter. Working with an ex hooker. And a not-really-a-boyfriend wanted for murder. My life was like something the E channel should be video taping.
"Just so you know, I quit today." I told Zach as I entered my bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling a pair of thick gray socks onto his hairy feet. He looked up at me when I walked in and some of the darkness in his face disappeared.
"Really?" He asked, standing. I took a moment to be offended that he was wearing my favorite black cardigan over one of the pairs of loose yoga pants he kept at my house. He always seemed to search out my favorite articles of clothing. I would find it sweet if I thought I'd ever see it again. "It's about damn time. I can't handle the thought of you getting shot at on a daily basis."
"You and me both." I covered his head with the towel and walked over to the dresser. I pulled on a pair of dark blue sweatpants and a white tee. When I turned around Zach was lounging backwards watching the show. "I'm still going to look into this, Zach." I told him seriously while I climbed into bed over the covers. It was only four in the afternoon but I was exhausted.
Zach crawled up and met me in the middle, wrapping himself around me like a big human blanket. "I know." He pressed a kiss to my damp temple and we both shifted around until that silent 'click' happened and we sagged into the mattress. "Let's talk about it more in the morning."
"It's only four." I yawned into his neck. Zach's hands smoothed down my back and I nearly purred.
"In the middle of the night, then." He told me sleepily.
I hummed in agreement and fell asleep to the soft fuzz of my own sweater rubbing against my face.
***
Onwards and upwards.