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Uploaded	By : HazardousRaptor Category: +G through L > Heavy Rain Views: 2691 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Heavy Rain, and am not affiliated with Quantic Dream, or Sony. (Sad to say) I do not own Norman Jayden, Carter Blake, or any offical characters contained within. I earn no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, sex between two men, (In later chapters.) Masturbation. Drug use. Blood. You know, fun stuff.
Author's Note: Holy fucking-fuck. I took so long with this chapter, it was insane. I should be crucified. Do I have a reason for this inexcusable behavior? Well, Christmas for one, I work retail so I got hit hard. Then all the momentous effort put forth with the holidays in general. Then came both Red Dead Redemption and Fallout: New Vegas. BUT NOT TO FEAR, you can bet that sweet ass of yours that I'm gonna keep chugging right on along. Not because I HAVE to but because I WANT to. And yes, there is a difference. Hopefully, the next chapter will be shorter (I'll do my best) and can come out sooner. Damn you, sleep and work...
P.S. The first part of this chapter takes place after the second part. Sorry, I tried switching them around, but I felt it flowed better like this. I know, not very professional...It doesn't really matter, I guess. Please forgive any mistakes, there were several things I wrote and then removed, so if something feels out-of-wack please let me know, like continuity issues. Fuck, this was a long AN...
"Now I have you with me, under my power,
our love grows stronger now with every hour.
Look into my eyes, you will see who I am,
my name is Lucifer, please take my hand."
-"N.I.B."Black Sabbath
U p l o a d e d
Perry poured himself another bourbon, sighing heavily as he scratched the back of his neck. He barely missed the tie that hung unlaced from around the back of his shoulders, turning around as he took more a sip then a straight shot all at once. He glanced boredly at his current girlfriend, a red-haired, permed creature with moderately-sized tits and a sequin dress, arms and neck dazzling with jewelry. She hadn't even gone anywhere that entire day; this was her 'home' jewelry.
"Honey." She groaned, readjusting the Chinese Crested purebred in her lap as she rolled her eyes.
"Don't you have to be somewhere tomorrow?"
A sniffle, and uncaring glance her way later, he begrudgingly made his way over as he motioned into the air with his right hand- waving it in his careless attitude.
"Don't you have some legs you could be spreading?"
His condescending tone made her scoff; she practically threw the ugly dog off her, heedless of its yelp in surprise as she stood up.
"I told you I have my period."
"I don't mind if you don't…" His eyes were downcast, traveling over her closed legs. The balding police captain actually wasn't as sex-craven as he seemed; in fact he was practically bored with the concept. Yet it was the only thing she was good at- the pretty young thing never even lifted a finger when it came to anything resembling work either in or out of the house.
She grumbled deep in her throat, walking towards the roaring fireplace, pouring herself a drink as the sound of the liquid sloshing about filled the large, mostly-empty room. Taxpayer's money lined the place well, ornate pictures and fixtures making up the modest-sized estate. It was nothing compared to the mayor's mansion, Perry dreamed. Most of his money came from the mayor's generous outpouring of police dollars. Instead of being spent on new hires, it instead tended to go into his own pocket by one way or another.
"Who was it that croaked anyway?" She asked, her voice on a slightly irritating edge.
Perry sat at the edge of the couch, listening to the fire crackle as he tried to clear his head.
"Some little…prick- he was a Fed. Put his nose where it had no business being…"
A faint smile came to the girl's face as she sat back down beside the man that paid her way. She sipped hungrily, more attention being brought to finishing the liquor and becoming inebriated instead of actual enjoyment, savoring the drink was not her style. The feeling it gave her was far more satisfying.
"So, why are you going?"
"-because if I don't I'll never hear the fucking end of it, Angela-"
"Oh, hush…" She leaned over, his earlobe being toyed at with her sharp fingertip, a Cheshire grin spreading over her face. Perry winced at the small shot of pain that her nails caused, giving her a nasty look.
"I thought you were in charge?"
"I have my superiors, just like everyone else." He grumbled, taking a last sip of his drink in one swig as he stood up to full attention, sighing as he cracked his back.
"Gets me out of the office, I suppose. Free food- I get to see what the nosy son of a bitch's family looks like-"
"Oh? And flirt with the girls, huh? Is that why you're not taking me?"
It was a ridiculous concept, of course. Flirting at a funeral? Yeah, the perfect place for lusty thoughts, alright. Yet the girl's tone had been oddly serious. It ground at his nerves.
"I'm not taking you because you're a drunk." He shot, reaching over to his left as he took the remote and flicked on the widescreen the wall opposite them.
"-This is only my third drink-"
"In the last hour." He finished, switching the channels over to the local news.
Angela went to speak up again, but he shut it out for the most part. Something about not listening to her- he really didn't know, he wasn't paying attention- somehow that had to do with drinking like a fish. It was the same shit he'd heard all his life, excuses, excuses.
"-Ethan Mars is currently still being held as a person if interest. Out-sources tell us he will most likely be released very soon. An exact date has not been given. We have also been informed little Shaun Mars is recovering from his hypothermia, and is expected to make a full recovery. Norman Jayden, the Federal Agent who was killed investigating the Origami Killer case, will be laid to rest tomorrow-"
"Ah, I can't believe this shit."
Two seconds away from throwing the shot glass against the wooden floor, he hesitated and chewed on his lower lip in irritation, elbows on his knees as he hunched over.
"What?"
"-This whole time the press has been on my ass throughout this whole case, and when we finally solve it, all they care about is that damn little nosy bastard from Washington. Goddamn it! Not one word of recognition, not one "thank you" from anyone- Christ, do you know how many hours of overtime I had to pay the entire police force? Blake and Ash put in over twenty-five extra hours just last week alone- worked their asses off- and for what?"
Perry got up in a huff, gesturing wildly as he stormed up and refilled his drink, slamming the empty glass down on the small counter. He was going to need a lot more to settle him down.
"I thought you said you'd just be glad when this whole thing was over?" The too-young-for-him thing droned in a grating tone.
"Except it's not over! If we'd solved this thing I'd have it swept under the rug by now!" Lou did grand gesticulations as he made a sweeping motion with both hands, even the one clasping the bourbon.
"But no! It was that little shit from Washington that blew things wide open. Didn't even tell Blake where he was going before he went out- then he got himself killed. Now we have to deal with the aftermath! The FBI is still on my ass about negligence claims-"
"Shhhh!" Angela put a finger to her lips, a sudden fear creeping into her face as she tried to get an idea of the sound she somehow managed to pick up through her lover's rantings.
"Wha-"
"Don't you hear that? Someones here. I hear a car outside-"
"At this hour?"
Perry found himself exasperated and positively ready to explode, he put his empty glass on the fireplace mantle as he began to listen, and indeed heard the sound of a car approaching up the winding driveway. He was about to take off towards the front door when Angela sprung to her feet and took a few hurried steps in his direction.
"Wait! Wait…"
Turning around, the balding older man gave a blank stare back. He couldn't help but notice a sort of fear in her eyes, one that betrayed more behind them moreso then she could ever get out with words.
"What! What?What've you got to say to me?" He demanded, throwing his hands around in mock frustration.
"Spit it out- if you're running around behind my back, it'll be a hell of a lot easier to find out before that door opens-"
"No! It's not that…" She cupped her hands and meshed her fingertips together as she looked down, she wasn't afraid of Perry or his reaction as much as she was afraid of the situation itself. Simply avoiding the subject was far more comforting to her.
"All day today, I saw these black cars-" Angela said this as she watched Perry start to walk over to the nearby window in irritation, drawing back the curtains as he attempted to catch a glimpse outside. Not that it mattered much, there was nothing visible except an icy blackness, nothing illuminated due to the thick cloud cover obscuring the crescent moon.
"…Doing what?" He pursed out with a sigh, not at all sounding enthused.
"They were just sitting there outside the fence, I could see him sitting down there- then he'd leave, and another would come up and take its place- watching me when I went out to take Muffy to the bathroom. It was…creepy."
The police captain didn't for a minute really believe her. She was a drunk and usually had a breakfast consisting of a screwdriver followed by an early lunch of hard liquor of various kinds. If it wasn't for the fact that she ate like a cow at dinner, he'd wonder how she stayed alive. Obviously she saw something mundane and was blowing it far and away out of proportion; nothing new there.
"Probably just some journalists…Wouldn't get too bent out of shape over it if I were you..."
Practically brushing her off, her mouth worked as she tried to speak, but it just wasn't happening. There was no retort that she could think of. She was never taken seriously, for good reason, sure- but this time she couldn't help but feel a sort of worry nagging at her. Not the "it will be okay" concern that usually went unfounded, but a real fear she had a sneaking suspicion would become a reality.
She watched as Perry went to the door, licking her thin lips just a little as she again had a seat, resting her hand on the small, nearly hairless dog as it jumped back on her lap. In earnest, she observed as Lou looked through the peephole at the door, then stepping back with a sort of nervousness as he flattened his hair, pressed down his suit, and tossed his tie through the nearby empty doorframe and out of sight.
A knock, and Perry opened the door. At first all the older man could observe was a dark figure, watching him step into the light so he could see better. A flash of recognition flashed across the captain's face, and he extended his hand towards his guest to invite him in.
"Detective! To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Ash nodded as he stepped in, eyes darting about the room in a sort of nervousness as he eyed the lovely young lady on the couch. They locked eyes, then she looked away as heart rate went up. She had to admit she felt very relieved, even if it did sort of make her look like an idiot, what with there being no strange person at the door who belonged to the hunting black cars of earlier.
"Sorry sir, I thought about calling but-"
"Oh no, no, no-" Perry shut the taller man up, watching as he seemed both flustered and nervous, like he didn't want to be there but for some odd reason, had no choice.
"-You're always welcome here, Ash. You know that…Blake on the other hand- well after last time-"
A small laugh between them broke the ice a little, which helped Ash in the transition as he turned around, taking off his large trench coat then hanging it on the coat rack as the small droplets of water cascaded down to drip on a large mat below.
"-You've met Angela, right?" He indicated, holding a new bourbon in one hand and gesturing to her with the other. The young lady nodded curtly, a bit nervous as her tiny dog growled and issued a few barks of warning. Ash's eyes lit up at the sight of the pretty young thing- oh, they've "met" alright, and just like last time there was a couch involved.
"Now how could I forget that pretty face?" He cooed, nodding to her as she eyed him favorably- a small smile gracing her lips as Perry turned around to pour the detective a drink.
Ash cleared his throat nervously as the captain turned back around, offering him the glass of bourbon and giving a small "thanks" as he grasped it. He hated this place, and truth be told he had little respect for Perry as it was. Though he knew the feeling wasn't mutual, he had kept a sort of underlining distaste for the captain well-hidden, indeed.
"So- have you-" Perry released a disgruntled sigh as he went to sit next to his mistress, who nervously took her growling dog to her lap and scooted over, a small blush on her face. The older man simply assumed it was from embarrassment.
"-Uncovered the perpetrator of my own little uh…case, Ash?"
The detective grinned as he took a seat next to the fire, a loveseat with ornate embroideries that cradled him comfortably. Yes, Perry's 'little' door ding was a mystery indeed. Because the car was next to Blake's, he was the first suspect. Yet when the lieutenant swore up and down he had no idea- and the dent didn't match up, the mystery deepened.
"Sorry sir, nothing yet. The cameras don't go that far-"
"Well, we'll be changing that then." Lou reclined next to his girl, throwing his arm around her as Ash watched her react in a sort of unbearable irritation.
Ash tried to look calm and collected like his normal self- but instead found his whole body beginning to do small jolts and shakes, doing his best to keep himself under control. What had happened today wasn't what he was used to, to say the least. Had thrown him far out of his comfort zone and through a loop as he still strained to recover. His fire-licked amber eyes shone like the flames burning red in the hearth; the glow caused by its mighty reach glimmering on their pooled surface. He swirled the drink around in its glass, not even thirsty enough to take away his edge in one feel swoop.
"So, detective, if you don't mind me asking…What is it that was so urgent that you had to come knocking at my door at ten at night…Not that I mind, as I said…" It was obvious that the police captain did indeed mind; yet didn't want to fully make it apparent. He'd rather know if something serious was happening then not, however. His ass was always on the line.
"I didn't want to call…" Ash began, body leaning forward as his elbows hit his knees.
"…I don't trust my phone." His eyes darted a bit, climbing over dark corners and hidden recesses of the captain's home. Gaze poking past the dark windows and their eternal blackness, looking for any clue of what had happened to him; what was happening to Blake-
"What'd you mean?" Perry prodded; just a little impatient at this point.
"What happened?"
"I think someones watching me…"
"What on Earth for?" Perry's eyes widened a few inches, while Angela's focused darkly on the detective as she instantly knew what the other man was talking about, and it frightened her to death as her eyes quickly became moist from the fearful concept of being right.
"That's why I'm here." He said lowly, his eyes traveling downwards to stare at the wooden floor as he sought to get it all out; something he'd been holding in from earlier that day.
"There's something I need to talk to you about…"
Opening the door, Blake quickly scanned the interior of his home as he flicked the switch, the light illuminating his moderately-sized kitchen.
"You said you cleaned?"
Jayden followed him inside, body shivering from head to toe before releasing a tiny sneeze. It sounded something rather to the effect of a little puppy-dog instead of a grown man. It made Blake squint and look at him funny, watching as the agent's eyes opened from their closed state, then shake his head from the apparent "massive sneeze" he had just released.
"…Uh, bless you…" Blake muttered, unsure if that was a sneeze or…well, something else.
"Thanks." A modest acknowledgment, and Jayden closed the door behind him out of courtesy, turning the lock on the door knob.
Blake walked over, his wet heels making squishy squeaks on the floor as he dropped the large bag on the table. It made him frustrated all over again, contorting his face as he turned back around and took off the wet shoes, kicking them over to the side, but still remaining on a large mat to soak up the water. At this, Jayden did the same, stooping down and unlacing them carefully. He gladly kicked them over to the opposite side, glad the lieutenant wasn't as anal in this regard.
Jayden didn't have his coat, so only watched with slight interest as Blake stripped off his own and deposited on the hooks nearby. They hung from the wall and beckoned for the agent's, but he had to admit he didn't even know where it would be in this reality. Shivering again, he noticed the house was almost as cold as the outside.
"What's the temp'arature, anyway?" The young man asked, rather curious. It seemed almost unnaturally chilly for this time of year. He kept forgetting he was in an extremely somber part of the state.
"…How should I know?" The older man said under his breath, his blue shirt almost bright in the dimly-lit kitchen as he strolled over to his sink, turning on the tabs and washing his hands vigorously. He didn't exactly feel clean being around Jayden anymore; what with seeing what he was capable of doing; especially with his fingers.
Taking the towel next to the sink, he dried them off in a hurry as he yawned wide. Norman thought it looked almost cute; like how one sees a vicious lion or hyena yawn at the zoo, everyone going "awwww" despite the fact said animal could rip you to shreds if it had the chance. He spied some silver fillings on his back teeth, but looked down and away to avoid making Blake think he was being stared at. They had enough awkward moments as it was.
Then came the inevitable; Jayden found himself unwillingly opening his own mouth wide as he also yawned, moaning a little as he felt himself stretch his back and raise his arms to the sky.
"Damn, it's catchy…"
Norman looked towards the empty Mr. Coffee machine on the lieutenant's countertop, spying the black thing with eyes growing to the size of saucers.
"W'hant me to make some java'h?"
"No, I want you to go take a shower- I don't need you stinking up my house."
God, the agent had nearly forgotten how badly he craved a shower earlier that day. He was surprised he didn't rush through the door, knock Carter down and fly into the shower to begin with.
"Right now?"
"Yes, right now. Get going."
Blake said this as he looked Jayden in the eye, noticing their bloodshot, red appearance. He ignored it for now, turning around as he walked in front of him and headed towards the couch. Hearing him walk away and towards the bathroom, he plopped down and made a noise of relief, sighing in content as his heart simultaneously sped up from all the stress in the day compiling in his thoughts.
Scratching his beard, he sighed heavily and let his body sink into the couch. Letting all that body mass just relax completely, muscles softening and bones crying in joy. Taking the remote off the coffee table in front of him, he flicked the TV on and watched it come to life as the six-o-clock news came on to greet him. He'd rather not wait to the one at ten, some games were on tonight.
"-still being held as a person if interest. Out-sources tell us he will most likely be released very soon. An exact date has not been given. We have also been informed little Shaun Mars is recovering from his hypothermia, and is expected to make a full recovery. Norman Jayden, the Federal Agent who was killed investigating the Origami Killer case, will be laid to rest tomorrow in Washington D.C, reporters will be there to cover-"
In irritation, Blake hastily changed the channel as he scowled to nobody in particular. However, the thing wasn't working all of a sudden, and in irritation launched back as he fired the remote off towards the television, hearing it crack against the entertainment center and fly off into parts unknown. He'd done it a million times before, and both the wooden TV unit and the remote showed signs of it.
Jayden had just undressed and had slid into the shower, turning on the water and moaning happily as the liquid heat cascaded all over his tired, weak and practically starved body. His hands came up to rake through his hair, pulling up the strands as he began to finally relax-
"Crack!"
Looking up, he blinked to get the water from his eyes as the steam hastily rose in the room. What was that? The first thought, oddly enough, was that Carter had either hurt himself, or someone had broken in- he didn't know why he cared, but the surge flew through him as the noise shook him, it was loud and violent, his heart began to pound.
"Blake?"
Silence.
"Blake! Are yah' okah?" 'What if he fell or someth'n? I'd be the only one-"
"What!"
Irritation laced the yell, and for a moment the dead man breathed a sigh of relief.
"No-noth'n! Just…Mak'n sure y'ur okah!"
There came a cavalcade of cursing that Jayden preferred neither to hear nor answer, so he turned back to the shower as he turned the heat up. He shivered as the cold left his skin and bones, replaced by a flood of warmth. Turning around, he let the water rush down his back and shudder a sigh of content. He was in no hurry to leave, so he put off applying the soap that sat opposite of him- a dingy yellow bar with a few black hairs embedded in it. Norman's face scrunched up in disgust.
'I guess I really don't need to use soap…Gawd, but you're gross, you stink…'
An idea came to mind, and he shut the water off (with great regret) and stepped out of the shower. His lithe legs carried him over to a bathroom cabinet across from him, the same area he found the Gold Bond in earlier. This time he found a package of soap bars, smiling in victory as he reached forward and wrenched at the package as he acquired a new one. It was then when the door was knocked.
"Jayden?"
'No, don't open the door- don't open the door-'
"Everythin' alright? You better wash yourself inside an' out in there-"
Against his wishes, the door did open a little, and Jayden's heart caught in his throat as he stood behind the door.
"Yeah! I just- just had to get some soap!"
Except the door opened fluidly, and Jayden found himself sprinting into the shower right before it opened completely. Quite frankly, Blake found absolutely nothing wrong with what he was doing. They had the same thing; both pissed standing up, no surprises, here…Yet apparently Jayden didn't feel the same way, and hid behind the dappled, frosted glass of the stall.
"Jayden! For fuck's sake, why do you have to act like a little bitch-"
"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" He spat back, standing there in an awkward stance as he wished vainly for Carter to just leave already. At least he couldn't see anything from where he was.
"I'm tryin' to help you, you stupid shit! I wasn't expecting you to act like a fuck'n little girl about me seeing you naked. Christ…"
Norman dropped his head and frowned, doing his best to keep himself calm despite the unusual circumstances.
"Well- what was it?"
"I'm gonna do a load of laundry, where's your shit so I can wash it?"
"Uh…Th-thanks but, my suit's dra'h clean only-"
"That shirt you wore today- I need to wash it. Besides, I can at least get your underwear."
"I already threw 'em in there." He confessed. Yeah, no way in hell he wanted Blake to see his pissed-through briefs. He'd rather be killed again.
"…So you were wear'n my sweatpants commando this whole time?" Carter didn't sound exactly pleased at that.
The air in the room was laced with humidity as it was, but he could have sworn it just got heavier.
"…Yes?"
For a moment Blake didn't say anything, just made a gruff sigh in his throat, irritated but knowing there wasn't much to do about it at this point.
"…Keep them." He said after a dark, pregnant silence. "I don't have any more clothes for you. Just use my robe for now."
"…Okay…Thanks." Came a slightly confused response.
Hearing some slight cursing under his breath, he heard the door close. A thankful sigh of relief floated through him, and he again turned on the tabs as the water quickly reached a warm enough temperature to lavish himself in. The new, non-hairy soap bar dragged across his hide as a lather developed, rubbing the suds into his soft skin as he washed his nether regions, pulling slightly and yanking at the organs in an attempt to get them effectively clean and "whore-smelling" free.
Turning around, he reached for the shampoo. He held the plain-looking bottle up as he squinted at the name- some local store's generic brand. Norman had to admit he took his hair care seriously, not horribly so, but he took the time to choose a good shampoo and conditioner, fixing it every morning. Though he wasn't intense enough to check it throughout the day like a vain son-of-a-bitch.
This stuff…Eh, how much was it, he wondered? Probably a couple bucks- he knew Carter had to make a good living, what, he couldn't afford something decent? Popping the top on the white bottle and having a sniff- okay, not so bad. Actually, it smelled pretty nice. Not flowery or fruity, but just a pleasant, overall baby-powder-esque scent. Pouring a generous amount onto his palm, he replaced the bottle and began to work it into his scalp. It felt heavenly to begin feeling clean again, practically sensing the dirt and sweat rinsed from his worked body.
Leaning forward, he felt the searing hot water rinse through his hair, the suds running down over his subtle abs, dripping down his groin as it was rushed away into the drain. When he was thoroughly cleansed, he squinted through the irritation the soap provided, then reached for the conditioner where he repeated the process.
He didn't want to exit the shower; he'd live there if he could. Yet tomorrow was a big day, and in the back of his brain he told himself sleep would be that much closer. He wouldn't be able to crash in a real bed, but at least sleeping in this side of reality would yield far more comfortable results. Carter's couch wasn't actually so bad.
Stripping the towel from the hanger, he wrapped it about himself as he dried his chest, arms, rubbing it through his hair in an attempt to slick away the moisture. A grumble of satisfaction worked its way out of his throat as he felt himself renewed; clean and refreshed like a new man.
Now that he was naked and shimmering in the dull light, he looked over his body to spy his newly acquired bruises and scars. Several left deep, purple and blue marks over his chest, legs and upper arms. They had several days to mature after they were initially given. They looked tender and swollen, and feared touching them for fear of causing an immense amount of pain. He still had the deep, blue bruise on his right temple from Korda. Though at least it looked like it was going away.
There was a hesitation as Jayden reached for the older man's robe. It was like crossing a barrier that he knew there would be no turning back- draping something around him that was previously against the man's naked body the last time he saw it.
'It's just a robe, noth'n else. Don't think too much about it…'
Taking the dark blue thing down, he squeezed the fabric between his soft fingers as he threw it over his back. Jayden was the type to usually just stroll around half-naked until he got dressed, freezing half to death in the process. He was never a 'robe' person (if that was even a term) yet found himself synching the comfy article of clothing tight with its fabric belt, tying it loosely.
Blocking out and simply ignoring the fact that it was Blake's robe had done the trick, he felt thoroughly warm, toasty, and comfortable even. He opened the door and felt a sort of cool ambient air hit him as he walked out of the room, the steam making the space about him humid as he let the door hang open. Once outside the bathroom, he listened to the sound of a TV droning on, could swear he heard baseball-
Oh shit, that's right! The second game of the World Series! How could he forget? Not to mention…Blake's deal. He still owed him a backrub, no doubt Blake had completely forgotten about it, that son of a bitch. Well, not on his watch…
Blake let all the tension of his day wash away as he watched the beginning of the next World Series game. All the while, the ongoing thought that Norman was in the shower, using a large amount of his next water bill as he appeared to be in there for a good thirty minutes. When it turned off, he craned his neck as he peered over the top of the couch and looked towards the dead agent, finding the kid's wet hair plastered on the top of his head slightly diminutive as his pale skin contrasted highly with the dark blue of his robe.
"Damn, you're pale…" Blake commented, moving himself around a little to see him better.
"Though not much less then when you were alive…" He mumbled then turned back around to sit back on the couch, leaving Norman there to attempt and find something to say back.
"'Bein' Irish descent…Not someth'n much I can help…" The cop heard from behind him in a fractured mumble.
"Yeah? Can't get a tan you Irish son-of-a-bitch?"
"Oh, and you cahn? What're you-"
"Mom was mostly Italian…Dad was English. Even had the family's coat-of-arms in the basement when we were growing up."
Jayden had to admit that was pretty cool, his father was always proud of his grandfather's immigration story, escaping the dreary, depressive nature of Ireland at that time. Though he may have talked it up and celebrated plenty of St. Patrick's days with pride, something as simple as keeping a family's coat of arms was beyond him.
"Dad was Irish-" He breathed out with a sigh as he strolled over towards the kitchen, speaking as he opened the fridge and took a look inside.
"…Mom was Norwegian."
"Shit- no wonder you're white as fuck-"
"No wonder you're a loud, obnoxious, hairy bastard-"
Jayden turned around as he held a carton of milk, which he suddenly had a craving for. He wasn't expecting to come face-to-face with the lieutenant already. His breath trailed over his features, the sickly, wet warmth oddly giving him the chills.
"Gonna call me a dago like they did in school?" He didn't say it with malice, but with a smirk and a jokey-tone to his voice. It still nearly made the other man gulp as they locked their blue eyes. Yet as always, Jayden held his ground, doing his best not to appear uncomfortable. Blake very obviously had a habit of getting in his face.
"Wasn't plann'n on it-" Norman swallowed, eyes darting back and forth as he backed into the still-open fridge. The cold air bit at his back.
Blake hastily pulled the carton of milk away from Jayden, giving him a coy look that spoke volumes- a mutual understanding that actually existed between them for once. It was quite the change of pace.
"Use a glass…" He spoke as he turned around, placing the carton on the countertop and reaching up to get two from a plain white cupboard above him.
"Oh that's right…I'm talk'n to mister hygiene ov'ah here…"
A smirk crossed the older man's face as he poured both of their glasses full, leaving the carton empty, to which he turned around and casually tossed it into the trash with the resounding sound of it smacking the trash bag.
"What? You drink out of the carton? That's fuck'n disgusting, Jayden."
"Yah know, you're starting to sound like my mom-"
"No, to do that I'd have to moan like a whore."
A blush of anger later, Jayden clenched his teeth as he watched the older male take his glass of milk and nonchalantly walk back towards the couch, the commercials now playing. No doubt the game would be back on soon.
'Oh? Like you did in the car today?' The words were on his tongue, and he was so close to saying them. He once again reminded himself of the delicate situation he found himself in. 'Be…NICE.'
"Nice one…Calli'n my mom a whore…classy."
"Well, she was one, wadn't she? You said her and your dad were divorced-"
"And…? What about that leads you to believe my mom's a whore-"
"Norman…You still liv'in in that fantasy world? I would have thought killing a man would have snapped you out of that…"
Carter didn't even look at the younger man as he strolled out of the room, sipping at the milk. He returned to his seat on the couch as his guest in the house stood there, wet hair still dripping as he huddled in the home's owner's robe.
"What are you talking about-"
"I'm talking;" and he used a very condescending tone, one that ruffled Jayden's feathers the wrong way, "About the way the world works. Daddy's sleeping around, then so was you're mom. If not before, then after the divorce. Don't give me that bullshit; I've seen enough to know how it works."
Jayden didn't want to admit that he had been right, that his mother had been cheating on his father at about the same time he was doing the same. Yet he'd never admit that to the older man, not easily, anyway. He shook his head in slight frustration, then walked around to sit on the couch to Blake's side.
"I think 'ya just insecure…" Norman rattled off, eyeing the man as he tried to watch the game. Something, oddly enough, the agent seemed far less interested in today then yesterday. He could only catch the older male's blue eyes from the side, they looked just as irritated as the day they shared a meeting about the Origami Killer on their first day.
"…about…relationships. That's why yah still single…"
Blake scowled, chewing on his bottom lip in irritation, not even taking his eyes off the TV as he answered what he had considered the smug bastard.
"Is that you're little pencil-pushing psychobabble bullshit? Or is that just you're asshole opinion?"
The dead man looked into the empty space on the mahogany coffee table, mind aflutter with what to say next, he had talked his way into a conversation he was pretty sure he shouldn't have started. Who was he to talk?
"…Is that why you were single when you died? Eh? Come on, asshole! You got something to say?"
His partner was becoming belligerent again; time to douse the flames.
"No. Cartah, I've always been too busy…Couldn't even find time to jerk it if I could…"
That made Blake snort with laughter, placing his empty glass of milk on the coffee table.
"You had an office, right? With a door?"
"…Yeah."
"So…? When you felt like it, you never…?"
Blake put his hand to his crotch, as though he was gripping an invisible penis. He then made a jerking motion to indicate exactly what act he was talking about. This forced a smile from Jayden- why couldn't
he have been this much fun on the Origami Killer case? Why wasn't he- oh, that's right…Now he was sucking his dick.
"You couldn't get einteth'n less arous'n then that place. I just…Never had the urge, I guess."
"Ah, what a waste…" Blake shook his head, all the serious air draining from the room rather fast.
"When I get promoted, that's the first thing I'm gonna do…Fuck'n shut the door and pound one out. I bet that's what Perry does the minute he walks in n' shuts the door…"
Norman laughed a little, a smile spreading across his face along with an accompanying blush. He was beginning to warm up now, both literally and figuratively. The robe was insanely toasty and felt good against his equally soft skin, and the hard-ass man's attitude was beginning to falter, revealing his fun side.
He watched as Blake turned the channel, revealing a football game between the Washington Redskins and the Philidelphia Eagles.
"Fuck'n look at that score…Jesus- gett'n their asses handed to 'em…"
"Is that why you're not watch'n it? You strike me more as a football man."
"Yeah, they started off strong earlier this month, then Vick got suspended and McCoy hurt…Now they're circli'n the bowl."
Looking over, Blake watched the younger man nod as he stared almost blankly at the football game playing out. His face looked to have filled with color, an almost renewed vigor. Then he questioned himself why he cared, or for that matter, why he was even looking…
He supposed it was because both teams for the baseball game had honest-to-God been playing like shit. One point on each side, and it's been like that for the first and second inning. Normally this would get him excited, the idea that either team could strike a point at any minute and have the game potentially in the bag. Yet they seemed insanely disorganized, constantly fucking up on either side and becoming more frustrating to watch then it was worth it.
"Whatcha rather watch there; FBI?"
Surprised at the sudden hospitality, he appeared to be taken a little by surprise, slowly working his mouth as he struggled to answer.
"Well, I…I don't know, I don't care much for football- but from what I've seen th'a games goin' bad."
"They're play'n pretty shit tonight, yeah. 'Iggles aren't doin much better, but at least they have a shot."
"Jus' switch between the two on commercials…" Norman pointed to the screen as just such a commercial came on, and Blake surprisingly complied as he switched it back towards the baseball game, indicating that nobody had scored even still. They watched both their teams struggle in relative silence, only irritated grumbles and slight curses between them when their team made horrible mistake after horrible mistake.
On cue as another commercial sailed on, Norman's stomach made a very audible growl, one which even Carter could hear, and even turned his head to take a look. His eyes traveled from the lithe man to the clock over in the kitchen, noticing it was a good hour after his normal dinner hour/
"I guess it is that time."
Groaning in exhaustion as he took his time getting up, Blake made a visibly difficult effort to stand up, then hobbled towards the kitchen as he attempted to walk properly. The ex-agent couldn't help but watch this display with a strange sort of curiosity, he'd never seen Blake that weak. He had to keep reminding himself the lieutenant from hell was an older man, indeed. Most likely, things were beginning to ache, mood souring, drives fading, mind losing it's edge, energy waning. Though he had to admit, for his age Blake may not have looked as young as he was, but he did act it. His abilities both in terms of virility and strength seemed very much as strong as ever.
He heard that older man make some noises in the kitchen, pots and pans clanging and dishes being shuffled about. Craning that velvety-smooth, lily-white neck, he spied Blake searching the cupboards for something that was fitting to his taste buds. Licking his lips, an urge fell upon him that was rather unusual, even for him.
"I can cook someth'n…"
Blake paused, the silence between them awkward as the statement hung in the air.
"What?" He poked his head back from the cupboard, previously obscured by its open door.
"…You know, I could uh…Make someth'n. I can cook a little…"
Jayden knew he had made a mistake when he said it the first time, but couldn't take it back, now. Inside, the young man knew he didn't have it in him not to help. Besides…He owed him, big time. The money being spent on him was racking up, as well as the trivial tasks Blake had to perform just to keep him comfortable.
Shrugging his shoulders as Blake stood back from the mess he was almost making, he looked towards the bureaucrat meekly and shrugged his shoulders.
"Fine by me…I don't have much to work with, here."
Standing up, Jayden almost felt a whimsy in his heart when given the green light. He only moderately enjoyed cooking, in fact he'd avoid it if he had to. Yet there was a certain independence he enjoyed having when he'd make his own meals. Though truth be told, he often made either incredibly bare-bones, or incredibly unhealthy dinner spreads. Celery with peanut butter one night (and yes, that was all he would make) to sloppy joes with cheese melted all over them. In fact, cheese was his very favorite food. If he could cover something with it, he would. He'd put it in his coffee it that wouldn't be incredibly gross in more then a couple ways.
"Got anah' cheese?"
Norman asked, walked towards the fridge and glancing in, the cool air wafting into his face and making him shiver. It was surprisingly stocked for a bachelor's fridge, beer only taking up one whole shelf. The rest contained actual food, like wrapped sandwiches, lunchmeat, a container of chicken salad and some large bowl with a lid, filled with some unknown substance.
"I should. In the bottom drawer…"
Pulling out the drawer that would normally hold vegetables, Norman was a bit disappointed that no such veggies or fruits existed, instead finding bags of candy (he seemed partial to Snickers) and some grated cheese in ready-bought bags. He'd rather have the blocks so he could grate it himself- but this would certainly do. He pulled out the cheddar variety and closed the drawer.
"Anah' steak? Chicken?"
"'Bought a slab of steak a week ago, it's in the freezer."
Blake said this in a rather inquisitive fashion, now extremely curious as to what the younger man was doing. He stood back as he watched him rifle through his fridge, and pulled the packaged carton of steak from his freezer, which he had been saving for a special occasion. He only told Jayden it was there because it was beginning to amuse him; the idea of the little prick cooking for him was enthralling. He supposed he could start to use him in the kitchen just as much as he used him for other womanly tasks.
"What are you mak'n, exactly?" Blake finally asked, seeing him walk quickly over to the cupboard to look for something else, without even asking. He seemed renewed with a fervor that he couldn't quite place.
"Well, that depends…Do you have- never mind, I got it…"
A box of soft taco shells made its way out of the cupboard in his hands, and quickly tore at the top to open it.
"Hey! I just bought those-"
"Well, you want me to make you dinna'h? I'll need materials…"
"No shit, Sherlock. What 'r you makn' so I know if I'll even want that slop?"
Placing the soft shells on the counter, he looked around sheepishly as he sought to defrost the steak in the microwave, realizing he'd have to walk past that monster of a man in the process.
"I'm mak'in…Fajitas."
"I beg you're pardon?" Blake asked in an obviously patronizing fashion.
"I'm mak'in Fajit'ahs!'" He put, a bit louder then before. "I make the best 'round. Everyone I know- I mean 'knew'…Will tell you that."
There was a bit of an awkward silence as the black-haired male looked at Jayden practically slack-jawed, mouth slightly open as he eyed the younger man with suspicion more then hate.
"Really?" His tone was condescending. "You? Some bureaucratic, Boston-brat asshole can make the best fajitas in Washington? You bein' funny?"
A slight anger overtook the younger gentlemen, and he bit the inside of his bottom lip to resist retorting back full-force.
"You think it's funny?"
"I sure do."
"Then I guess I'll just be eat'n, then…By mah'self."
A small pause hung in the air as Norman once again strode towards the fridge, in a desperate search for some sort of vegetable, preferably green peppers and onions. Maybe some sour cream, guacamole-
"The hell you will. I'm startv'n."
'Ignore him and he caves. Remember that one in the future, Norm.'
"So, it's not so funny, then?"
"I never said it wasn't funny…" Blake chuckled a tad under his breath.
"Watch'n you make Mexican food for me is pretty fuckn funny, actually."
Norman put both eyebrows up, yet closed his eyes as he turned around and rubbed his knuckle into his left socket.
"Whatevah…So you want some?"
"You're using my food. So yeah, let's see what you got there, Mr. D.C."
"You run outta nicknames for me, yet?" He retaliated as he stooped to find a saucepan. Luckily, he'd found them earlier that day when he was by himself.
"It's limitless with you, Norman." He stressed with an underlying hatred.
"You open yourself up for it-"
"Bullshit- What if I called 'yah Philly? Wouldn't that piss you off?"
"Eh- I've been called worse…Though I suppose in that case, I'd feel like a little horse."
"Sorry?" Jayden asked, confused and a bit bewildered.
"A filly? It's a little girl horse-"
"Oh! That filly…No, that's not…naw, naw…no, That's perfect, then."
"A-hah…You're fuck'n hilarious…"
"That's what they tell me."
"No they don't. And it's 'told', now, you corpse."
They continued to argue rather uselessly as Blake went over and sat on his ass, watching the two uninteresting games as the younger man began to cook. Jayden struggled to find all the materials needed, knew he wasn't going to find green peppers, but was lucky enough to find onions and tomatoes. There was some butter (even if he preferred margarine) and plopped it onto a sizzling pan, already getting excited for the concept of eating the food he swore he hadn't made for months. He was simply always busy, rarely having the time to cook. Now? Well, now he was dead…He had all the time in the world!
After some time, Blake smelled the aroma of newly-defrosted meat being sizzled, and his mouth instantly began to water. The sound of the carrion being wrenched from its Styrofoam and plastic holdings was enough to get him excited- but now he was getting hungry all over again. It wasn't the insane craving he had early that day, but instead the simple desire to eat something so flavorful. He could hear the crackling sound of some garlic and pepper mixed together a they popped on the pan. He licked his lips and craned his neck as he saw the robed figure standing in front of the pan, not even able to see the meal he was already craving.
"That uh…That's smelli'n good, there…" He nervously admitted, and in retrospect he wondered why he even said it. It just made him seem weak and needy.
"I told 'yah…The best 'a-rawnd."
A few minutes went by, he could hear Jayden struggling through the fridge until Blake finally decided to hurry up the process.
"There's some guacamole still unopened, it's in the cupboard by the fridge…Sour cream is in the bottom drawer in the crispers- there's only a little left."
'Christ. Might as well be married…' The dead agent sighed, standing up after he finally found said sour cream, placing it with some anger on the counter-top. Sure, he appreciated help from the home's owner instead of him just sitting there as he made dinner like his fucking wife. Yet on the same page, he also wanted some sort of independence. The more Blake helped him, the more he felt diminished in his abilities, he liked being in control, and it bothered him otherwise. Like any case where he received police help, and especially the last one that finally killed him. The one where he lost all control, and its consequences were eternal.
It wasn't long after that, Jayden found himself toasting the tortilla shells, placing them on two plates until he caught himself. 'Goddawm, stop that. He can get his own.'
"Come get what 'ya want, Cartah." He announced, placing his own selections on his place, careful to split it down the middle as much as he could.
Carter seemed to jolt out of place, turning around and stepping up as he stretched from his relaxed position.
"'Bout time…" He mused, eyeing Norman with a slight irritation as they locked gazes. Did this asshole appreciate anything?
The look of irritation was returned as Jayden took his plate, filled with tortilla shells arranged perfectly, onions, steak slivers, and splattering of both sour cream and the green guacamole. Blake had to admit he took a long look at his food and found it simply irresistible. He got up to the skillet and began to inhale the aroma, his mouth watering as he arranged everything as close to possible to what Jayden had done- he hated to admit it, but he at least knew what he was doing in that department. The bottle of hot sauce still remained on the counter, which he took quickly before Jayden could. There were two things he loved, sweet and spicy, the sensation of his mouth on fire being a favorite of his.
Getting himself a stack of napkins, he turned towards the bureaucrat who seated himself back on the couch, now engaged with the football game that apparently heated up since he's stood up to acquire his meal. He covered those steps quickly, having a seat next to him- not because he wanted to sit next to the little asshole, but because it was the only place to put his plate while he ate- and with that, sat his plate down. Norman was already inhaling one, but not before dipping it in both condiments.
Blake took a bite, and was quite surprised by how good it was. It reminded him of something similar to the dish prepared at many chain restaurants, like a Chili's or Applebee's. To him that was "fine dining", as his typical meals were spent either from a microwave, diner, Denny's ,or it's counterparts throughout the area. It could only be so good thanks to the limited supplies, but he found himself quickly inhaling them more due to it's taste then to simple hunger.
The sound of two alpha males chewing filled the living room; the noises of an enthusiastic football game just barely drowning them out. Blake wiped his mouth as he took a drink of his water, clearing his throat as he watched one of the Eagles fumble.
"Shiiiiiit!" He mused.
"See that?" He pointed gesturing to the player laying on the field face-first, as if even he couldn't believe the horrendous mistake made.
"That shit- right there…That's why they're losin' the season. Stupid fuck'n mistakes…"
Jayden gave a crooked smirk, looking down as he messed with the remainder of his meal, spying Blake's plate to look for any left-over extras, finding him still practically raping his meal.
"Yeah…"
There was an awkward silence as the older man finished, once again slurping the water and wiping his hands and mouth off. He looked up as he threw his napkin onto the plate, his usual habit of indicating his feeding session was finished. His ex-partner looked to have filled up even faster then him, sniffling as he looked down out of the heavy atmosphere the room pervaded, the tense air that blew between them; and found himself wanting to reach for Blake's water- he was parched.
Carter licked his lips and tried to concentrate on the game, instead finding some sort of nagging guilt chewing at his heels. Wasn't there something he should be saying? Something that people usually say to one another to…show their appreciation for what they did? What was that word again…?
"Hey, uh…Thanks. That was good."
Norman blinked, inwardly telling himself that he must be still dreaming…Carter just didn't…Well, do that. What he just said, the words that came out of his mouth…He wasn't sure he remembered him saying thanks to anyone, let alone him. It was shocking; and if the young agent hadn't pissed himself earlier that day, he certainly would have right then.
"You're welcome, Cartuh. You help me, I help you…"
Carter watched the kid nod as a look of surprise fell upon his face; he knew it. Shouldn't have said anything. Now shit went and got weird.
"Yeah, well…" Grunting as he once again stood up, he made his way over towards the kitchen. Jayden went to follow him, but Blake's hand signaled him to stay put.
"No, I got it…You stay here- you cooked; I can clean."
"Are yah sure? I don't mind-"
"Sitch'a ass down, Norm." His tone more serious this time.
"I'm not fuck'n lazy, I can do it myself."
A small expression of combined disdain mixed with surprise once again filled his youthful, pale visage, and he turned around as he relaxed fully against the couch. Listening to the sound of pots and pans clanging together along with running water, he then realized that the older man had forgotten his plate, instead only grabbing his own.
"Cartah?"
"Hmm?" His voice was on the edge of irritation, and he turned around as he watched him dry his wet hands with a small towel. It really was odd, seeing as Norman had grown so used to seeing the man in such a depressing, downtrodden atmosphere. His dark appearance, framed by his harsh, moody blue eyes and jet-black hair was only amplified by the clothing he wore. He wondered if it was on purpose that the man dressed in black and blue- both colors his body harvested naturally. It caused those dusky navy eyes to pop horribly from under his sullen eyebrows. Imposing, frightening, and very well the reason he was able to get so far in life. The agent reasoned, anyway. Fear could go a long way.
In that light, Norman's breath stopped. Once again things flashed away, and he was back in some other world. It took him some time, of course, to realize that. All the while his system screamed as it tingled, tried to understand and grasp the sudden rush of air, the drop in temperature, the flashing of light changing dramatically. The tingle in the back of his eyes, like the sensation of a million bulbs popping at once, cascading down shards of glass.
It wasn't the ocean, not Mars or even the pleasant Autumn forest with it's quaint little rock and wood deck, but instead an odd dreamscape of some strange design. There was a humid, thickly-aired swamp all around his current position- or maybe the term was marsh? Bog? Christ, he didn't know. It certainly was a change of atmosphere from the oddly pleasant places he'd been in previous times.
Around him loomed dead, decaying trees. Their bleached-white husks towering into the air, their roots inundated with swampy water. It smelled of mold, moss, and that sickly wet stench of rotting wood. There were no humming frogs, no starry night sky above him, but instead an oddly…brown expanse that soared over his head, reaching from side to side, front to back, and it's appearance was nothing short of terrible and frightening, resembling a sky but not quite. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, just a cool and dank brown color, with a hot white towards the horizon. The agent wondered if this was perhaps the same color the sky would look to be at the end of the world. Be it by the hand of God or man- natural or nuclear.
Just when he didn't think this new plain of reality wasn't weird enough- lightening struck. Not metaphorically, but instead literally. He jolted as the sound - extremely similar to a gunshot- shot through the air, and instead watched as the brightest pink he could imagine flashed in torrents across the sky. It was nearly beautiful, and momentary lapses of black flowed through the heavens not long after it. Another strike, another sound of a gunshot (Norman couldn't help but notice it sounded far more like gunfire then any normal lightening should) and the atmosphere above spider-webbed itself with pinks and blacks.
Norman was still on some sort of couch. It seemed to be an old ragged one, something someone would leave on the side of the road instead of having it 'properly' disposed of. It reeked especially of this environment, now a small loveseat that was far from desirable He hadn't noticed it before, the scenery and now the new weather was far too interesting. Despite the gross object he now sat on, he looked around from his perch, the cool air stinging and generally unpleasant. He breathed out to see the water vapor collect in the air, teeth beginning to chatter hopelessly.
It was then when he caught sight of something else that he'd consider very strange. A movement to his slight middle-right, his head jerked in that direction without thinking. It took a while for him to catch it again, and only at that moment of intense concentration did he see it. A flash of white, and a swan gently began to pedal its way out from behind a partially deceased tree. It seemed calm, laying its neck back against its own body, gently stirring the water as the only sound it made- water moving- echoed in the chilly air.
'Now that's strange. I'm gonna really lose it, soon.'
The swan then seemed to notice Jayden sitting there on the soiled couch, and reacted, rearing up as it flapped its wings. Doing his best to appear non-threatening, the brunette remained still and instead sought to just watch- until before him the swan's feathers changed. From head to toe, they turned a rich black. When the bird finished flapping, it was complete, and seemed to find more interesting activities in preening its newly acquired outerwear.
This, along with this whole new dreamscape, puzzled the profiler to a grand degree. He looked around, top and bottom, and could swear he heard the gentle play of a flute. It sent shivers up his spine instead of that gentle calm it normally would inspire. It didn't sound natural at all, and the gunfire cracked again as the expanse above opened up, a rainfall beginning from nowhere as he reacted out of shock, stepping back off the couch into a standing position as he blinked- feeling the air warm up around him. The fluting intensified, it was in his ears, in his head-
Now the swan was no more, he looked back to see if he could find it for a reason he didn't quite understand. He didn't know why, just that he had to find that fucking swan-
"Fuck-"
Something big and smelly knocked him down, slammed him with such force that his head swirled about in a dizzying array that he couldn't wrench back into the real world. It lifted him up and planted him back into the spongy, muddy earth, and he cried out in despair as he closed his swirling eyes. The lightening stopped, instead replaced by a dreary grey, the rain slowing and being replaced by a cold sleet. It appeared now just as it did outside, he was certain. It was the normal Philadelphian sky he had grown accustomed to.
It - whatever 'it' was- said something-something incomprehensible- and he looked up to see a massive creature, something he had a hard time seeing, much less describing- holding him down. He supposed that if he had to use an Earthly creature to compare it to, it would be that of a bear or other ursine beast. Where eyes would normally be, pits of white hotter then the sun blazed with no foreseeable power source. The back of its head wasn't the back of its head, replaced by another face similar to the first. Yet he couldn't see the whole thing thanks to his angle.
It didn't blink as it looked into his eyes, and the agent couldn't help but cry unmercifully. He wasn't sad, wasn't even terrified…Yet his eyes leaked against his will in torrents. It was simply impossible to contemplate what was going on, it was too fast, the ground too hard and cold beneath him, the thing above too heavy and its claws too blunt and painful as they sunk into his chest. Above all, its eyes simply were impossible to look into, rather like a supernova, he was convinced doing so would make him blind.
It opened it's mouth, and instead of a growl or words he felt an intense wind coupled with an unearthly sound so base, so baritone, that it simply couldn't be-
'Norman!'
"Norman- Norm?
"Jayden! Wake the fuck up-"
Blake had watched as Jayden disappeared again, his own reaction was a slight surprise, yet simply believed the kid had merely faded out and nothing more. When he felt like it, he'd suppose he could bring him back to stay the night. He had been planning on perhaps getting some much needed alone-time. It was something he had wanted, but like a busy house wife, he probably wouldn't know what to do once he had it.
Yet as the time period of about ten to eleven minutes went by, and he heard a surprising 'thump' that jolted him back into the living room from the kitchen. With a hand towel once again in his fist, he quickly walked over to find Jayden sprawled on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. It wasn't so much that, (which was highly noticeable in itself) it was the absolutely catatonic and bleach-white completion he wore. Even if the dead agent usually looked a bit unfocused, he'd never looked that bad. Needless to say, it was a touch frightening.
His face stained with what had to be tears, eyes wide with a pseudo-shock, and the only thing Blake could think of was that he had seen something that had sent him into some sort of horrified state, and he wasn't recovering from it, either.
Finding himself quickly coming to a kneel before the younger man; he looked closer into those grey-blue eyes, and found nothing there. A lack of not only intelligence, but general comprehension or conscious thought. He put a hand out and took Norman's right shoulder, shaking him a little to try and rouse him from whatever sort of insanity that had befallen him. It was a sort of instinctual action for the seasoned cop, murderers and innocents alike needed to be checked on in his profession. Though he'd be the first to admit he didn't exactly rush to a guilty man's side. At least he'd began to accept the annoying man-whore's company.
"Hey…Hey, you alright?"
The minute the last word left his lips, he winced and nearly fell back as Jayden screamed- nearly at the top of his lungs. Blake recoiled and backpedaled across the floor, scooting on his ass- a few feet- not so much from fear as pure and simple avoidance. He heard him scream again, bloodcurdling and racked with the sort of primordial fear he hadn't seen in a man for a long time. His arms shot up and blocked his face, legs curling up to put himself into a ball as he fell to his side, turning into a writhing and kicking fetus.
Surprisingly calm despite the circumstances, Blake took a few more steps back and stood there, lips loosely parted and watching as the young man trembled on the ground, a muffled scream passed his lips as he kept his head tangled heavily with his arms and legs; had this been anybody else, he's swear he was having some sort of drug after-effect, but this was Jayden… Ol' Straight-n-Narrow. Probably used to sleep with a bible under his pillow before he croaked it.
"Norman!"
Nothing, not a twitch, not a word.
"Norman! Norm?" He got closer, inching down as he now saw the young man's ribcage inflating and deflating at an insane rate. Whatever had caused this, it had just about scared him right to death- again.
"Jayden! Wake the fuck up-"
Crouching, he reached over and grabbed Norman's shoulder as he announced his formal name, hoping it might jog something. He shook; and that's when the Norman exploded for lack of a better term, skittering up as his legs sprang apart and uncoiled, sending him up into the air and towards the wall, where he hit Blake's bookcase and caused a few books to fall, along with some picture frames to tip over.
"-G'het away!" Norman had squealed in a rather high tone of voice as he performed the action. Carter stood there with a repulsed look in his features, shoulders boxed and body tight similar to a dog standing it's ground.
"For fuck's sake, Jayden!" He bellowed, eyeing him up and down as he watched him breath, sweat lacing his face as his eyes appeared wider then any saucer.
"Stay awa'h…" The man against the wall muttered, and Blake watched as his Adam's apple bounced as he swallowed, then opened his mouth to catch his breath. The older male swore he could hear his heart beating the whole six or eight feet that separated them.
"This my goddamn house!" Carter's voice rose, very obviously irritated with this whole bullshat charade.
"-You don't tell me-"
Blake launched himself forward, covering the room quickly, charging across without hindrance. Jayden reacted, tensing as his body became as taut as a cable, watching the older man's form come closer without a fucking thing he could do about it. Then he touched him, grabbed his shoulder again-
"Don'tcha fuck'n touch me!"
What happened next was something neither of them wanted; what had been a growing complacency between the two of them (give or take) over the past few days was ruined in an instant. Norman grabbed at Carter's strong, masculine hand and pinched it in a fearful embrace, pushing it down and away as he attempted to swat him from his body. Carter's reaction was delayed, not at all expecting such a harsh attack by the younger man. The agent hadn't been having his little bitch-fits lately, the times where he seemed to flip his shit every chance Blake was even a little doubtful of his abilities- now it was more out of defense.
For what had to be a few measly split seconds, Blake gave Jayden an angry sneer, his eyes wide and ravenous as the bull had just been poked. Snapping forward, he took that same injured hand and reached up as he got hold of those soft locks and pulled him down as hard as he could muster; then gave one hard push as he sent him flying into the coffee table, forehead first. Blake couldn't slow down the action, didn't catch the way Jayden's body reacted much like a rag-doll, buckling and causing his back to arch, the backside of his head to fly upwards from the bounce, then his head to crack against the table one more time before he hit the carpeted floor in a slump.
"-Touch yah' all I want."
Came the hiss as he did the action, the very end of "want" obscured and nearly undetectable as the sound of Norman slamming down filled the air. He circled his prey as he looked over the slumped-over man on his carpet, body in a heap as his left knee was buckled under his body, arms joining them as they folded under his chest.
'Shit- he's not moving…'
A small sliver of fear rose up inside Blake's chest, making his stomach bottom out and face heat up. He had yet to regret the action, as he had done it more out of a sort of demented self-defense then of malice. He'd easily knocked men out before for far less; but he hadn't really meant it this time. A simple punch in the gut or crotch would have been far more satisfying.
"Jayden?"
Getting on his knees, he scooched up by the kid's face and tried to get a better look. He wondered if he had…Killed him? Fuck, if so he really wasted a lot of time trying to keep the little shit alive-
A groan, shuddering and painful, and he knew he wasn't. Blake let out a small breath of relief, but wasn't going to jump up and down, either. He still hadn't moved, and instead watched as Jayden's form remained practically lifeless except the apparently almost-impossibly light breathes he was taking.
"Norman? You…Alright?"
Another pause, a long one this time. There was no response, and Blake found himself at an impasse. Just what the fuck did he do to him? He swore, if the little fuck went into a coma…He didn't know what would be the first thing to do. Get him to a hospital? Oh, that would go by REAL fucking great, wouldn't it? "Hey, Blake, you had a dead man in your house, and yet somehow knocked him out- oh we also found your semen in his stomach. How did that work out for you? By the way, he won't be able to perform for you ever again, he's paralyzed from the neck down and you need to feed him through a straw."
'Fuck! You really did it this time…' He wasn't the first man he'd beaten into unconsciousness, by no means. But this wasn't the same- fuck, this was a Federal Agent…A dead Federal Agent that gave quite good head and could apparently make good fajitas. Though the giving head thing was his main area of concern. Good thing Norman didn't hit his jaw on the way down- that would have been a very unfortunate loss. The young man was steadily becoming a little 'pet project' for him; a hobby. Like a dog that could walk around on two legs.
He admittedly felt himself become very concerned, and immediately began checking vitals. Members of the police squad were taught this back in their training, a mandatory course that forced them to learn how to read a unconscious man's signs and give life-saving CPR. Of course, everybody rolled their eyes and fudged the class the best they could. They all knew full well they weren't going to give another man mouth-to-mouth; especially the pieces of shit they had to hold themselves back from killing most of the time. He was just glad he kept a bottle of Purell in his glove department and bottom drawer of his desk.
Hand gliding over his shoulder, he pressed his fingers to the hurt ex-agent's neck. A frown burrowed itself deeply into his face, feeling nothing. Then he pressed deeper, this time feeling the fragile man's pulse, light and fleeting but there. It was very slow, shallow and struggled to beat. It reminded him of a butterfly's wings, fluttering… lighter then air.
'Kid's dead, yeah…But that's still not right. Heart's struggl'n to beat…'
Sitting up, he contemplated his next action. 'Never move an unconscious person.' They always said, but what the hell else was he supposed to do, wait until he got back up? He supposed that was his only choice. Standing with some trouble, he wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, and decided to use the bathroom, taking his shirt and pants that Jayden had previously worn and thrown them in the washer, where he found all his own clothing that had been in his hamper the last few days previous.
'I thought he was screwing with me…little shit really did try to do the laundry. We'll I'll be goddamned.'
Walking back into his living room, he found himself auspiciously glad that Norman was shakily getting up on all fours, jaw slacked and arms shaking.
"Hey-hey-hey, wait…"
Rushing to his side, he was on his knees before he could even attempt to stop himself. Blake's arm came up around his back, and found the younger man shaking in his arms violently. He was even more pale then usual, face literally drained of color. A sheet of paper would have been jealous of his complexion.
"Uhhhh…Uhhh…M'ah head….Oh Chr-ist, my heeeaaad…"
Jayden moved a hand to his forehead as the pressure beat there intensely, feeling a throbbing on the inside of his forehead that greatly increased with every heartbeat. He felt a warmth pulse there, and reached up to pull his hand back with blood smearing his palm. Was that this from? It wasn't like he wasn't used to bleeding. His vision was blurry as his heart accelerated, and he looked down to find a large splattering of a dark red stain on the floor.
"Sorr'ah…Sorry, 'bout'cha cah'pet…"
His words were slurred, mouth barely able to work as he felt strong arms lift his torso backwards, knees still kissing the floor as he was sat up.
"Damn it, you're bleeding…" Blake sighed, and the realization of whom it was made him tremble even more. A full-force tremor ruptured Jayden's body as he let out a pained cry.
"Wa'h…From?"
Blake sat down as he pulled the younger man into his lap, and this sudden action made Jayden jerk in response as he felt the other man's inviting and warm body cradling his own. All eroticism vanished and was replaced by an awkward air as he realized he didn't want that- his skin pulling away from the sensation but his body simply unable to pull himself out. He looked up as his head lolled back like a rag-doll, and watched as Blake looked down at him rather like a doting father.
"You're forehead…There's a big gash…"
"No, that was from…"
"What?"
Jayden didn't realize he'd slipped up until then, barely catching it as his head swirled around, then watched as Carter seemed to be looking into his barely-open eyes, prying one fully open with one hand while the other steadied him, using his thumb and forefinger to draw the eyelids back to expose his right eye, where he seemed to analyze it. The whole thing was rather surreal.
"You're eyes are normal… good."
"Oh...Oh, did I hit ma'h head?" He still was reeling from what happened, a giant black gap filling his memory from the time he was done eating dinner. It was the last thing he remembered.
"Yeah…you fell…"
There was something guarded in the older man's voice, but he ignored it. He just scowled up angrily and closed his eyes, letting out a low whine as he went ahead and leaned up against the lieutenant without heed. He really was toasty, vibrantly warm, his body oddly comforting as his chest rose and fell against his face. It was more out of comfort then anything. Although not a withdrawal, he quite missed any sort of caring person as he struggled with them before.
Carter looked around the room with an empty brain, shallow with thoughts. What exactly was he supposed to do? Normally he was great at making split-second decisions like this. His gut told him to pick up the phone, call the E.R. They didn't need to know Jayden's real name, didn't have to question anything- but Jayden had become famous in his death. The chances that at least one of the workers at the hospital would recognize him were too great. He was lucky enough that the gay man at the suit store didn't seem to notice. At that point, he felt him cradle against his own body, and a surge of discomfort rattled his bones. A deep breath, a slight growl in his throat, and he sought to get away.
"Norman, I'm not a fuck'n pillow."
"Really? 'Yah soft like one…"
A cough came up in Blake's throat, a look of surprise and disgust on his face as he pulled away, lifting him up and to the couch instead. Laying him gently on the pillowed end as he bent down and recovered the young man's feet and pulled them up. It was on the tip of his tongue to lash out with curses, but surprisingly enough he stopped when he saw Jayden's scowl return, the scrunching up of his facial muscles, the wrinkling of that normally taut forehead.
"You better be grateful for this; I missed the end of both games for you."
"Who…Who won?"
'He's still able to talk…Not passing out, yet.'
"Eagles 30-27...Phillies 4-3."
"Fuck!"
Blake actually found himself laughing a little at that, face flashing red again from the exertion and worry he'd been going through, and now by the unintentional crack-up. The utter seriousness and abruptness that was in Jayden's voice was simply laugh-inducing. He'd just been through a near-death experience, and the only thing he could worry about was whether his home team had won or lost. He could admire that.
"I think ya' got more problems to worry about, there, hot-shot." He said with the passing of a sigh.
"You're head's bleedin', and you have a concussion…A bad one. You can't remember shit, can you?"
A few blinks, and Norman shut his eyes as he kept them closed, laying his head down. The room had begun to spin horribly; Carter's voice becoming a dense, chopped up cacophony of incomprehensible words- and by that he meant less then usual.
"That's not good." He nearly cried out, feeling his head throb. He could still feel the pulsation about his head, and at that point, he heard Blake rush back and forth, and a warmth wetness fell on his forehead.
Looking up, the small amount of light nearly blinded him; yet the dark silhouette of Blake was seen sitting in front of his laid-down form on the couch, hovering over as he pressed a warm, wet washcloth on his wound.
"You're gonna bleed all over my house..."
"Sor- Oh fa'wk, sawry- I forgot'cha hate that." A yawn came out after it; and Blake couldn't help but feel just a tad motherly in such a situation. In some eerily fucked-up way, this was the closest he'd ever been to taking care of somebody he had ever gotten. This was the last thing he'd been expecting to do tonight, that was for certain.
"Don't worry about it, kid. Shit happens."
"Yeah…Esp'sh-lly to me."
Blake laughed a little in the back of his throat- three chuckles, maybe four- and pulled back the washcloth, using the other side to soak up the newly-pouring blood. The previous side had been soaked with the bodily fluid as it was. Luckily enough, it looked to be slowing. Odd, he couldn't help but take in the moment…He hated Jayden's guts from day one, and here he was mopping up his ruptured head. His blood was red like his, like everyone's, the dead man still bled like he was living.
"Shit happens to all of us, Norm. You sure as hell ain't alone."
"Yeah…Yeah I know…I just can't catch a break, though…I'm dead, don't f'ahget."
"I'd call this one hell of a break- you know you can't be dead if you're here on my couch-"
"A break all right…On m'ah head."
Blake laughed in a bit more genuine way this time, and he was surprised when he felt guilt creeping in. It was a long, long time since he felt guilty of anything- be it an actual crime against a suspect, or saying the wrong thing and offending the wrong person. It was easy to do for him, and his ability to not care made him a psychopath of sorts. A smile disappeared from his face as he watched the dead man begin to drift off to sleep, a small ounce of fear clutched at him as he gently smacked the younger man's cheek.
"Hey, now…You got a concussion…You can't go to sleep, not yet."
It was one of the few things he thought he knew about the condition, and so he stuck with it. When he was a child he fell down the steps from the top floor, and had to be rushed to the hospital with many a broken bone to be tended to, and the one thing he remembered clear as day was his frightened mother holding him in the back seat, keeping him awake by making him answer questions; everything from his favorite toys to who his favorite G.I. Joe was. (He still remembered that shit; Sergeant Slaughter!) His father drove them to the nearest hospital where he could recover. Only then did the doctors let him sleep it off on a lovely cloud of Morphine.
'Worth a try…' He pondered. 'Hopefully, he won't remember this, either…'
"What? But…I'm…I'm tired…" He sounded it, too. Listening to him made him want to drift to sleep as well.
"Hold on." He breathed, getting up with a 'huff' of irritation, coming back with a fresh rag and a big, brown bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide. He wet the new rag and practically shoved it onto Jayden's gaping wound. He watched the kid stifle a cry of sudden pain, his feet folding up, toes curling and fingers clenching as his eyes screwed shut.
"Fffff!" Norman bit his lip. "Ow-"
Blake very obviously rolled his eyes, cursing something under his breath about Jayden 'acting like a little girl', then watched wearily as he reached down to grab two bandages, peeling the papers apart and taking out two individually wrapped white band aids that looked to have been lifted from the police station. He wasn't sure why he knew that, he supposed it was their plain appearance. He took the plastic off of each one hurriedly as he carefully applied one haphazardly over the gaping wound, then did the same to the other, forming a loose "X". Blood was already saturating them, but let them be for now. He only had a few left, and would really rather save them for now.
"Stings like a bitch- but it won't get infected…" 'Why I give a shit, I wouldn't know. "Stay awake for a little bit longer."
"God, Cartah…How'm I gonna do…" Another yawn, his tired body was drained with all this stress, and a new injury. The swilling nausea he was feeling made him just want to black out and let it swallow him whole.
Another pause, and Blake asked. "When you were a boy, Norman…What was you're favorite toy?'
"Huh?"
"Answer the question, faggot." He swore, slightly irritated.
"What was you're favorite dolly like?"
"Fuck you- it was no dolly…It was this stuffed din'a'saur thing…its name was Howard."
'Hol-ey shit, will you look at that. My entertainment for the night!'
"Howard? You named you're stuffed dinosaur…Howard?"
"What's wrong with…Howard?" Norman pressed, eyes closing shut, still highly bothered by the light.
"That's a person's name- you couldn't call him something like "Spike" or-?"
"I was twelve, Cartah! I don't fuck'n know…"
Blake couldn't get the smile off his face, he wouldn't be able to, even if he tried. Instead, he sat on the coffee table and continued his little interrogation. This time, he'd leave his fists dormant.
"Have any pets growing up? A fuck'n cat, hamster or…a special goldfish? Pet rock, anything?"
This time, Norman smiled. Though he couldn't stop his head from lolling back and forth on his loose and tired neck.
"Nah... My parents hated animals…"
"Yah' gotta be shit'n me." Blake cursed, actually feeling sorry for the younger man. "A boy's gotta have a dog…At least a turtle for fuck's sake.."
"I ah-most had a turtle once, but they said it'd smell…"
"Dad ever do any weird shit to you?" Blake tried, changing the subject as the air got weird. "I bet he must have- you turned out all queer and all."
Jayden almost- almost became offended. Then he found himself taking a higher road, his swirling thoughts making his face red with embarrassment as he conceived the lie.
"Dressed me up in a tutu h'all the time and made me dance- Made me try on makeup, wear high-heels…What, is that weird? I 'ad no idea. Seemed nah-mal to me."
He surprised himself with how serious he sounded, the etching of a smile on his lips, but not enough to immediately tell he was joking. Blake made a face of both disdain and surprise, looking to be taken aback as he gave Norman a side-ways glance and put his hands to his knees.
"…Are…Are bein' you serious, Jayden?"
He couldn't take it anymore, he cracked up, bursting forth with laughter so hard his head ached and had to keep himself from falling right off the couch. It was painful but he couldn't stop; the look on Blake's face when he said that was just utterly hilarious. He could never forget it at this point, the only other sight rivaling it being the look he gave him when he first used ARI in the police precinct.
"Oh, you son of a bitch," Carter swore, only now beginning a deep chuckle as he rose his hands to his face and cradled his cheek in one palm as he rested it on his knee, wiping away the sweat from his continued worry. "You really had me 'goin."
"I noticed- it must not be hard to fool the ol' Lieutenant Carter Blake. Easier then I thought!"
Blake's face bore a darker red of embarrassment, and he was about to stand up in a huff when he watched as Jayden's eyes opened a bit more, noticing they were still normal.
"Yeah, well, you're dead, asshole." He finished; "So don't laugh too hard…"
Leaning back, Norman rested on the couch and closed his eyes, only wanting to let his body slip into sweet, sweet rest. Just sleep the night away, week, and whole month away. Why not? What else was there to do in this gloomy, cold climate?
"Sure, sure…" Another yawn. "F'ah a dead man, I sure feel tired."
Standing up, Carter found himself irritated with the situation. The thing to do would have been to take him to a hospital, and the fact that he couldn't was aggravating as all fuck. Sure, Norman probably could just die and be 'resurrected' again, but he wasn't entirely sure that's how it worked. Besides…Would that Norman be on the up-and-up, full and happy, 'well maintained' expensive whore like this one? Probably not. He didn't want a new model, this old one had plenty of miles left and he was beginning to like the way it handled.
Besides, if he had to deal with all that bullshit from when he first arrived- he's swear he'd rather the fucker stay dead.
'So, now what? Can't call an ambulance, can't take him to the hospital, wish I had a computer here at home so I could at least look it up- oh shit! That's right…'
Norman watched with little interest as his partner got up, walking away with a sort of determination he remembered from the Origami Killer case; like when he questioned the shrink, or even Mars. It usually meant he thought he was right. It was a look the dead agent wasn't sure liked. He wanted to ask where he was going, but instead sat there as his eyelids began to drearily close.
"Any other favorite things when you were a boy?' He asked from behind him, way across the room.
"You didn't just have stuffed animals, did you? There had to be something' you got excited about…"
For the life of him, he couldn't quite understand Blake's odd questioning. He lolled his head to the side, and considered, wetting his lips and doing his best to think back to days practically long forgotten.
"Th'ah was…This plane, it was… awesome. You w'und it up and it would fl'ah forevah…" He laughed a little, relishing the memory. How big and exciting everything was back then, how innocent and simple the world was to his wide eyes. As a child he only ever wanted to grow up, now all he wanted was to be back in that old house, watching his plane bounce around his room him and his older brother shared.
"Then my damn broth'ah took it with him when he…Went to live with dad…'Nevah saw it again…"
A final shuffle of something behind him, and he heard Blake walk back over, a large hardcover book in his hands and was nearly as thick as the D.C. phonebooks.
"What's that?"
Blake gave him an irritated look, staring back from under his eyebrows heavily as he appeared to be chewing on the inside of his cheek.
"A medical journal…" He mumbled, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as he balanced the huge book on his knees as he licked his fingers and began to turn the pages.
"…Y'ah have a medical journal in y'ah house?" The younger male asked, stabilizing himself on the couch as he felt the room swirl again. A shudder went through him as he laid back down, trying hard not to go right to sleep. Not as hard as he should be, he'd admit.
"You'd get shot enough, you'd have one, too…" That look again, those small, dark blue eyes huskily smiled for him from under those deep-set eyebrows, and Norman had to admit he smiled back.
"There's plenty of shit in here the doctor's never told me…"
Mumbling as he turned the pages, he seemed to quickly find the "concussion" section. Under it, he took his finger and ran it through the words lining the page, lips moving as his heart raced, hoping for half-decent news. Fuck it, if he had to take Norm to the doctor, he would. It wouldn't be easy, and explaining it after the fact would be horrid, but he couldn't let the pain-in-the-ass just die-
"It is a myth that recent concussion victims cannot go to sleep afterwards." He found, and read aloud.
"In fact, they may sleep through the night."
Norman grinned like mad and lay against the couch, letting his eyes rest.
"Goooood…"
Though he hated to be wrong, he was also glad it got the prick out of his hair. He continued to read, and although he was still concerned that he could be pushing up daises in the middle of the night, things still seemed to be on the up-and-up, as the other symptoms were either nonexistent or seemed to be lessening.
"You should be fine…" The self-named Dr. Blake announced. "Stay up for another fifteen, though…I wanna be sure…"
Looking back up, he found himself talking to a closed-eyed federal agent, and he released an odd growl through his nose as he snorted.
"Goddamn it, hey…Hey!" He stood up and tapped him hard on the cheek, though it was definitely more like a "slap" then a tap, really.
"Wha…What! Y'ah said I could…Sleep."
"Yeah, but I also said to wait until your eyes…Just shut up, do what I fuck'n say, alright?"
"Shut up…Lemme…lemme sleeep…"
Another small smack to the cheek, another gasp from the younger man on the couch.
"Nope."
Groaning, Norman opened his eyes and tried to focus on anything in the room, even the smallest detail. Anything to prove to Carter that he was okay enough to lay down and rest. He couldn't help but notice the older man was watching him like a hawk, and making him rather uncomfortable as a result.
"Since when do…You give a shit, Blake?" He asked, eyes oddly glinting in the subdued light of the room, and Blake had to stop himself from stumbling with his words, his reply coming faster then he had anticipated. What he wanted to say, and what he actually said were two different things.
"Well I…I told you this shit before-"
"Yeah but…If I die, I'd probably just come back, I mean." He shrugged. "Who's to say I'm even alive right now? I still don't get how this works- Probably never will." Norman yawned again, once more making him tired as a result.
"We don't know that, do we?" Then came another yawn on his part, and he tripped up on his next coming words. 'Damn it, Norm…'
"I thought you wanted rid of me from day one?"
Words came out of Carter's mouth before he even wanted them to, before he could analyze and interpret its meaning.
"Listen; I don't know why I give a shit, okay? Don't have the slightest fuck'n clue, so just shut up and take advantage of my good nature, alright asshole?" Came an irritated prattle, and the ex-FBI just made a 'taken' aback' motion and fluttered his eyelids as he sat against the couch.
"Okay…"
"It's not in my nature to just let someone die…I'm a cop for fuck's sake, and if you're decent enough you might even make me give a shit about you. You earned at least that- don't fuck it up."
Nodding, Norman didn't want to point out that he'd nearly let Shaun Mars die with his ego leading the way, more interested in Ethan Mars and getting him behind bars then the search for the actual killer. Though he supposed it all had the same intent. Whatever, he wasn't thinking clearly at the moment…Only of how fucking much his head was pounding.
"So, you said you're brother took you're favorite toy, eh?"
"Sure did…Yah' reminded me of how much that little shithead pissed me off…" He finished with a laugh, indicating he was kidding. Or was he?
"I say…Tomorrow, at your funeral? We corner him in the bathroom and kick his ass…"
This prompted a mighty laugh from the surprisingly now-jovial Norman. His face turned a bright red as his smile showed, and he had to catch himself from doubling over. Blake found himself smiling too, stopping the laugh from coming out full-force, but he had to admit his face hurt- it wasn't used to smiling so much around the former FBI agent from Washington. A man that, not so long ago at all, he wouldn't piss on if he was on fire.
"Good idea! He has it com'n…"
"I bet."
Blake covered his face with his hands, sighing as he struggled to keep his own eyes open. Blinking, he leaned forward and once again spied the side of Jayden's eyes, his little patient for the night, and tired to spy his pupils.
"Open your eyes again…"
Doing as told, Blake leaned in and looked as close as he could, and was glad to see they were still normal. He sighed in open relief, now he was confident the little bastard could lay down, and he'd feel relatively at ease. He spied the reddening, almost black bruise on his forehead, the white bandage seeping with dried blood as it began to finally clot. It was never like they showed in the movies, it was more brown then anything. The smell used to make him gag, but he very quickly developed a tolerance to it thanks to his work.
"Looks good. You in pain?"
Jerking a nod, he once again watched Blake take off again. This time it sounded as though he was rummaging through his cupboard above the kitchen sink. He had expected him to come back with an Aspirin or Tylenol, but instead re-appeared with a glass of water and an orange prescription bottle.
"Now, I got something here- you're not allergic to anything, are you?"
"Just cats…" He shrugged. "Why?"
"I mean in terms of drugs, you horse's ass." He spat.
"Oh- no, no…" An almost-excited yelp stated. "Is there-?"
"I've got some Percocet, here…" Holding up the bottle, he looked Norman right in his eyes. He wanted to make sure he wasn't going to abuse the things, not that he had any reason to believe he would. Drug addiction was something he was very aware of thanks to his profession. He trusted no one.
"Why do you have Percocet?" Jayden lightly questioned, trying to make conversation and not attempting to drool as he eyed the script in the man's hand.
"Last time I had a toothache, the dentist gave it to me. Now I keep it if I need it- you want one?"
"Sure." He tried not to sound too enthusiastic. "I need all the help I can get."
"That's for fucking certain…" Blake insulted, popping open the child-proof cap by cranking it down and off, then depositing a small white oval tablet in his outstretched palm.
Popping the palm back, he was able to throw it into his open mouth as he smacked the palm against his lips, taking the water he was offered and drank it all down. It wasn't Tripto, but a prescription medication of this strength was the closest he was going to get. Even if it may have been the ARI device he was technically addicted to in the first place, the lack of the device and being in the imaginary world replacing it, instead fueled his craving for the drug that sustained it. He only wished Percocet had hallucinogenic properties- but he'd certainly work with what he got.
'Lieutenant Carter William Blake, sir, I love you.' He smirked jovially at the thought. Ah, he could get up and just hug 'n kiss him right now.
Here Blake had the ability to at least get him meds, and he could love him for it. All his years on the police force could drum up all sorts of pain, toothaches, gunshots…Maybe if he searched his medicine cabinet? Goddamn it! Why didn't he do it earlier when he had all the time in the world? Now it was all he could think about…
Blake held up his prescription bottle as he read it under the dim light. He hadn't taken any in forever, and couldn't remember the side effects.
"You'll probably get drowsy…Have to kick your ass off the couch in the morning…You might get the shits from this, too…"
Norman's eyes widened a little bit at those words- he didn't exactly need to lose control of his ass while sleeping in Blake's house…He'd rather die then live that embarrassment.
"Wh…What?" His reaction was delayed, one eye closed while the other remained opened.
Seeing his reaction, the Philadelphian laughed as his eyes shone towards the young man, his reaction priceless.
"Naw, just kidding…Actually, it constipates' ya. Have fun with all that…Now lay down- get some shut-eye. I wanna watch some TV before I pass out for the night."
Snorting, Jayden's suddenly tired body seemed perked up, now he wanted to converse with the apparently 'HIL-ARIOUS' cop who thought him having to run to the bathroom every ten minutes was just the funniest thing ever.
"Now I know why yah' always so pissah, Cartah…" He mused, his head lolling on a bendy neck as he laid down on the edge of the couch, exhaling with a nearly-contented sigh.
"I betcha haven't shit in months."
"If you're head wasn't broken wide open, I'd pop you one, Jayden."
"You angry 'cuz it's true?" A weak smile, a glare towards him from the other side of the couch, and Blake couldn't help but return the motion.
"What, you here to monitor my bathroom habits, now? I could let you watch if that's you're thing."
"Aw God, Blake, that's gross-"
"You're tell'n me what's gross? Look who's talk'n asshole, you were diggin' for buried treasure in my ASS earlier."
It killed him to bring it up, but for a moment it was worth it. He watched the nearly-sleeping Norman's face blush as he pulled up those lanky legs and brought them in towards his chest. His arms propped next to his face as he sought a more comfortable position, eyes closing as he let out a contented sigh.
"I found it, didn't I?"
'Little son-of-a-whore…'
Looking towards him only beheld a passed-out FBI agent from Washington on his couch. He was about to wake him up, but realized that wouldn't do him much good. What was he going to argue about? Of course it felt…Oddly arousing. Of course he wanted more of it, but of course…He'd never fully admit it. He was a grown, middle-aged straight cop from Philadelphia, a top police lieutenant on the homicide division. The last thing he'd ever expected to do was to find something attractive in 'that' lifestyle, one that used to disgust him and made a hilarious subject to ridicule with his other apparently straight friends. It was a reassurance in their own masculity, a settling of potential curiosities, a lifting of worries.
Carter's dark eyes drifted over the tender young man like an all-enveloping shadow. Taking in his appearance fully, something he had avoided the whole time working on the case. He wanted nothing to do with anything he presented, his whole being there a slap in the face as far as he was concerned. He'd see him from the corner of his eye, perpendicular and shadowing his shoulder like a vulture waiting to jump on his nasty habits. Now, however, in his weakest state, Jayden was just a downtrodden, weak young man. He had muscles, sure, but they were small and subtle, under worked and strained. His face had reddened from its formally pale state, his stubble coming in thick and nearly creating a beard that would mirror his own if he didn't tame it.
Jayden wasn't that much younger then him, yet his appearance and nature struck him more like the looks and behavior of a adolescent, and when he laid there, he couldn't help but be reminded of a child. He used to be like that as a boy; young and naïve. In fact the resemblance was beginning to frighten him. The way he tried to talk to his father, get him to open up more about his days in Vietnam, resulting in either courageous (bullshit) stories or plain silence or disdain- even anger. It was the anger in the end that always won out.
He looked innocent, free of wrongs and sins. Of course he knew that was far from the reality, yet it still seemed to rain true for the young, inexperienced agent. It pissed him off, as a simple look towards himself could note the scars across his face and body, his tired wrinkles and soured, bitter attitude towards life. To think, here was the man that found the Origami Killer, practically half his age with less experience…It wasn't right, this sleeping faggot had no right, barging in-
His thoughts escalated as he once again approached one of his mania swings, and suddenly felt grateful he had caused Jayden's injury, and he wondered if he'd ever remember. The blood on the carpet needed tending to, and after a frustrated, mutely-lighted cleanup session on his hands and knees, he found himself in the bathroom as he stripped, then took a shower.
The water cascaded down on him with a sort of relief, though he had to admit there was a lingering fear in the back of his brain about Jayden's state. If he slipped into a coma in the middle of the night, he could very well choke on his tongue and die…Again. That wouldn't be nearly as bad, he supposed, then being a vegetable for the rest of his life.
'Check when you get out, don't let it bother you. Why you give a shit, who knows, but you do. But if he croaks it's your ass. It would be hard to hide the body. Finding two corpses of the same man would send the station into one hell of a circus. And I thought the OK case was bad.'
A hand drifted his testicles as he thought about the young man, he wasn't even aware he was doing it. He had come to admire the youth's pristine, nearly flawless face, his smooth visage and curvy cheekbones. The way his toes curled when he laid down on his couch reminded him of a tight young girl flexing them as she came, his brown locks much like his first girl in high school…He still remembered they smelled of vanilla as he sunk his face into that lovely head of hair, grabbing her fiercely by the hips as he took her from behind, crying in unison as they mounted their peak…
Blake wasn't aware how fast he was stroking, how the unusual and forbidden, the exotic, suddenly became the erotic, the coveted, the desired. Taking a moment to wind a fingertip around the bottom of the head, he gave a manly grunt and snort at the intensity that surged through him- laying his head back as he put a hand behind him and stroked his ass, imagining it belonging to…God, who was it he was fucking himself to? Was it Jayden? Was it Tiffany? He found the image in his head flashing between them, and found it strange as well as desirable. This wasn't gay…Right?
Then came the desire to do what had happened earlier, and that finger drifted to between his buttocks as it rubbed the crevice. Instead of spurring it on it made him clench up, removing his hand from his cheeks and using it to instead stroke his testes, pulling them gently as he felt the pressure build.
His crotch muscles contracted as they expelled his seed. He bit his lip as he came with a low, satisfied groan, his face beating red as he tried to quickly get over the final act. In the very least, he told himself he tried his best to envision a woman instead of a man.
Pressing his palms into his eyes, he turned around as his head began to beat another frightful tattoo of pain. He let the water rain down on him again, reminding him of a far more pleasant version of the cold, horrid rain from outside. It relaxed him only a little, and after he made sure his seminal fluid was rinsed from the shower-stall drain, he shut off the tabs and stepped out.
'Wouldn't it be great it you never touched those damn glasses? Or better yet…Norman never died- or simply never fucking showed up? How about if Scott never started killing children and their fathers? How about that?'
What if a lot of things were different? Good God, he could do this all day.
Drying off, he gave a harsh, agitated sigh as he now lamented jerking off. Now he was extraordinarily tired, the ejaculation sapping his energy resources and telling him to get some much-needed sleep. He was about to grab his robe when he realized that it was being snuggled into by Agent Norman Jayden on his couch. Welp, he wouldn't be getting that back. Hafta get a new one.
Flinging a dry towel about his waist, he synched it and put the corner between the cloth and his waist, doing his damndest to cover his ass the best he could. If he got at there and Jayden was awake, it would have been one hell of a scene if he walked out naked. When he strolled into the living room, he sniffled as he noticed it was much colder now, and he shivered uncomfortably now that he only a towel to hide himself.
'Shit, make it quick. Check on 'em and turn on the heat, then hit the sack. Fuck'n tired…'
He did as his logic told him, crossing the room in wide steps as he investigated the still-living Jayden laying passed-out on his sofa. Out like a light, curled up the best he could as he visibly shivered from the cold. He had long guessed the brat was rather cold-blooded, always complaining about the rain and October chill.
'Should get him a blanket or something- fuck! You're not his mother, his ass is cold? He can get it himself.'
Blake almost went to the kitchen to take his pills, when he realized he had been out since Sunday, still forgetting to pick up his prescription at the local pharmacy. Fuck! He'd kill over at this rate, his high blood pressure had only gotten worse since the murders started up again. This whole affair with Norman was no doubt making it worse. He'd have to do it sometime tomorrow…He had to.
Instead he crossed the room and turned on the thermostat until the oil heater rumbled to life down below, and sighed when he went to plod aimlessly off to bed. A small coo interrupted this process, and was quite concerned over its source until the answer became quite apparent.
'You know something, Norman? I have the half-of-a-mind to throw your baby ass into the cold.'
Once again playing the motherly role, he quickly found the blanket from yesterday, cursing under his breath as he threw it on the young man, his body writhing in half-conscious relief as he tugged at it, and used it to cover his freezing body. Relief was almost instantaneous, watching him sigh in content as he rested his head back down and snuggled in.
Blake didn't want to watch the scene any more, the image from his masturbatory session still fresh in his head. It mirrored his actions on the couch, sweet and innocent, young and tender. Clean, submissive, in dire need of protection. It spurred masculine desire in his system, and he nearly just stopped himself from sitting down next to the other man, wanting to stroke that hair and kiss those ears- lick down that neck- and a stirring in his loins confused him half to death.
'What am I DOING? This isn't me…I don't like men- I don't like him. Stop it, just stop it. Go to sleep, think of tits, and…Go to sleep. Repeat. Like always. It's been what you've always done. It'll be what you do until he's long gone.'
When would that be, though? How long would this last? Norman, that was? Would he simply evaporate away one day? Or was he here to stay?
He dressed into a clean pair of boxers as he slid into bed, the covers and sheets cold and biting at his skin, but within moments he felt the comforter holding in his body heat, creating a blanket of toasty warmth. His head pounded again, and despite being so tired before, he found himself unable to go right to sleep, his body too tense, head too busy.
In his dreams Carter knew he could do anything. Go anywhere, talk to anybody, fuck anybody, and do just about anything. The number of times he'd offed Jayden in an extremely satisfying manner in his dreams was a high number already. He told himself he wouldn't think of the fuckhead this time, but found his brain unable to cleanse itself of his overwhelming presence in his life.
Most of all, the image of the frightened, catatonic Jayden seemed to take over his thoughts. He had forgotten all about it, but remembered thinking, at the time, that the look he had on his face was akin to pure terror, of animalistic fervor. How those deer always looked before dad slit their throat. What in God's name did he see? Most of all, where was it? Jayden had gone off again somewhere, off to a place he had yet to describe. He wondered if he'd ever know.
What Blake didn't know was that Jayden had heard the massive dream-beast say something when it opened those jaws of immense despair; something he still didn't quite understand, but felt horrified all the same.
"I'll swallow you up, boy. You and him, both."
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