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Uploaded	By : HazardousRaptor Category: +G through L > Heavy Rain Views: 2688 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, and sex between two men. (In later chapters.)
"Go then, there are other worlds than these."- Stephen King, 'The Gunslinger'
U p l o a d e d
Norman fell asleep on the swing; it still slowly rocked in the artificial sea breeze. His head rolled from side to side as he fought the strange and nonsensical dreams. It wasn't until a noise woke him a good five hours from then (not that he knew the time himself) that he finally snapped out of it. He didn't know what it was at the time, just that it made his eyes open and forced him to stand up in curiosity.
"Huh…What?"
Jayden's eyes came to rest on a casual-looking Carter Blake as he stood by the cliff overlooking the ocean. He appeared to be smoking a cigarette casually, and had just finished taking a drag when Norman got up and began walking over.
Blake looked back in a slow, purposeful way. In such a way where he knew who it was already, but needed to perform the motion anyway as a courtesy. Norman watched as he seemed to roll the smoke about in his mouth, then let it out in a long exhale.
"I didn't know you smoked…"
Carter smirked then sighed as he dabbed the cigarette in the air, watching as the ash drifted downward towards the ocean.
"It's not something I do everyday…" He said in a monotone voice. "Just when I'm stressed…"
Stifling a laugh, Norman looked downwards towards the rocks below.
"There hasn't been a time I've seen you when you weren't stressed, Blake."
The lieutenant chuckled back, and stepped away from the edge as he walked more towards the white house. Above him, the clouds were thick and dark. It looked like a storm would start up at any minute. This raised an eyebrow from Jayden, as normally it didn't do this unless the ARI had been worn too long by its user.
"How long 'hav you been here?"
A shrug, and Blake took another drag from the cancer stick then blew it into the passing wind.
"…Few hours…'Saw you sleeping, figured I'd let'chyou snooze."
Pressing his lips together, the agent turned towards the sea again and looked towards the horizon. A few galls made their way across the sky, preparing for a storm.
"How'd you get here when you weren't at a desk, or at least sitting down? It took months for me to figure out how 'ta do that."
Seriously, he was curious as hell about that. It took a certain concentration to be able to bring him from the ARI's normal stress-reduction mode to being able to traverse the imaginary landscape. It wasn't meant to be used like that anyway. The device tailored itself to the landscape only slightly- it would have been easy for someone to walk into a wall or off something tall if they weren't careful.
"I was fiddling with them…'put em on. I was just here. 'Don't know…Just kinda happened."
Nodding, Norman tented his fingers again and brought them to his face. He slowly took a few steps, noticing the older man sounded tired. Slurring his words as his lips seemed less coordinated with his speech.
"Back so soon? I figured you'd be awhile before you'd drop back in a'gain."
"Yeah, well…I got bored... I was thinking... about your little proposal?"
This got the agent's full attention, and he watched as Blake looked back towards the house, in a strange, almost fond way.
"Where are we, anyway?" Blake asked before finishing his smoke, flicking it away into the grass.
Jayden hesitated before he decided to tell the man the truth. What did he have to hide anymore, really?
"Martha's Vineyard."
Blake nodded and looked back towards him.
"It's nice…Actually; it's my favorite so far. Really peaceful…"
For a moment, Norman felt a pang of affection for the brutish lieutenant. It wasn't deep, but it was nice to have something of a good feeling for once. Therefore, despite how much it hurt his pride not to have a heart filled with disgust and hatred for Blake and all his bullshit…He accepted it. His stomach bottomed out as he felt the horrid craving of hunger, and looked up towards Blake as they met gazes.
"What's wrong with you?"
Shaking his head, he looked off towards the horizon again with a look of discontent.
"…I'm hungry," He said with a laugh in his throat.
"-and I can't eat."
Nodding, Carter seemed to be patting his jean pockets for another cigarette, finding the cartoon and pulling out a pack of Pall Malls in a red carton. Out came another from the blood-red box, and he looked up briefly to the agent staring long ways at him.
"…Want one?"
It took Norman a minute to register the invitation, and it became obvious in his eyes as they widened a little. They looked up towards the man as the agent parted his lips, and had to answer despite the appeal.
"You know I can't-"
"Oh that's right…The wh'ole being dead thing."
Carter brought back the cigarette and took out his lighter, an old Zippo that was silver in color. There was an emblem on it, but Jayden didn't catch it. Bringing up a hand, he kept the artificial wind from knocking out the flame as he lit the end. He wanted to tell him there really was no danger of that, but he decided to let him have his little fantasy. Or at least, he didn't think the wind could have any effect. He wasn't sure of anything in this place anymore.
"Ever have one?" Carter asked in a drawn out voice.
Norman shook his head, but had to admit he was always curious. He hated the smell, but always wondered what the draw was to the seemingly deadly small white cylinders. Now? Well, now he was dead. So what did he care?
"No I…I've had a cigar before once, when my one brother was born. It was 'awkay…"
A slight smile came to Blake's lips as he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled gently, blowing the smoke out against the wind.
"Wanna try?"
Letting his eyes betray his emotion, they curved downwards in a sort of adorable hopelessness.
"I told you, I can't-"
Norman didn't have the ability to react when he felt Carter actually touch him. Felt him grab the back side of his left arm and pull him closer. With his touch, it raised confusing and exciting sensations in his body. The young man only felt tension between them when working together before, yet now he was beginning to feel a necessary, almost dependent bond. There was a flutter of a twitch in his groin, but he ignored it.
'Don't fucking get horny for an oldah', psychotic son of a bitch that looks like the rough side of a barn. Just…No.'
Bringing Norman towards him a bit, he held him steady a good few inches away. The older man watched as the kid looked him up and down, curious as to what he was doing exactly. Blake positioned his right hand to clasp onto the other man's shoulder, and brought up the cigarette in his left two fingers, moving it closer to the agent's face.
"You feel real enough to take a puff. See if yah' can."
Hesitating, Norman looked back to the man in a queer sort of surprise, and it was that hesitation that forced Blake's hand towards the agent's lips. He reacted in shock, as it was so quick as to not allow any resistance, but relented as he felt the cylinder forced between his cleaved lips.
Blake smiled in satisfaction at having corrupting the poor kid. He watched as Norman made a combined groan and yelp from the abruptness and displeasure, but inhaled anyway. Watching as his face turned red, he quickly pulled it away as Jayden went into a coughing fit, bringing a fist to his mouth as he tried to cover it as he coughed up the smoke.
"Oh, Gawd…"
The younger man looked about ready to pass out, his face even sicker as it was pale, yet turning a bright red. Carter laughed only slightly, bringing the cig to his lips as he inadvertently tasted the young agent, though not noticing any real difference.
"So?" Carter inquired, scratching his nose with the back of his hand.
For a moment, Norman swayed on his heels as Carter released his grip. Actually, getting over the initial puff, it wasn't so bad. There was a rush as the drugs mixed with the tobacco coursed through his system, the hot smoke had burned the back of his throat, but gave him that much-needed boost that he was craving since…Well, since he last used Tripto.
"Not too bad, actually."
Carter smiled, blowing out the smoke as he dabbed the ashes onto the previously picturesque ground below.
"You feel pretty real for a dead son of a bitch…" He remarked, fiddling with the stick between the two fingers, taking another puff hurriedly and blowing the smoke out his nose.
"…And youfeel pretty real for a dream." Norman muttered, finding his eyes resting on the cig between the man's fingers.
"A dream?" Carter caught, "How d'ya figure I'm not real?"
There was a wordless understanding between them as Blake caught the look of yearning in Jayden's eyes. He watched as the kid stepped forward and dipped his head a few inches, and Blake complied as he brought the cigarette back to Jayden's lips, where he again took another inhale as he wrapped his mouth about the deadly cylinder.
Right then, Blake actually had a bit of a fatherly feeling towards the little brat- the kid was almost old enough to be an older son to him. Right now, it felt good to be having the higher-class twat practically eating out of his hand- or rather suckling at his cigarette. It gave him a sick sort of satisfaction to see him so dependent.
"Thanks," Norman remarked, blowing the smoke into the wind and standing back up.
"…It's...It's because you're being too nice. You're reminding me more of my uncle right now, and I know that can't be right." He continued.
Blake nodded; again putting it to his lips as he lamented it was halfway done from sharing it with the greedy agent, though he did have one left. He was hoping to save that, it was going to be a stressful next couple days…
"I can be a dick if you want, you know." The lieutenant assured. "I just loosen up when I drink…and especially when I smoke. Don't get too used to it."
Norman made a noise of approval in his throat- and realized it couldn't be a dream. It was too real, and besides, his dreams were never this oddly pleasant. He'd had problems with nightmares ever since he was a child, 'Night Terrors' he supposed they were actually called. Running through the woods, a burning house, anywhere something could chase him horridly. Being perused by something, but always too afraid to look back. He didn't have them all the time, but when he did, he remembered them clearly.
"Don't worry, I won't…"
Sucking in the nicotine, Carter, in reflex, held the cigarette again for Norman to leech off from. Coming in again, this time even closer to the other man's face, about five inches away, he took a puff. He took to inhaling in as much as the ash as possible.
'Not a bad replacement for Triptocaine, or even food, actually.'
Letting the smoke out with a cough, he relished the surge, the taboo brought from each puff.
'I could get used to this…'
There was a slight silence between them as Blake took it back, taking a puff and damn near finishing the stick himself in one shot. He watched as Norman made a sort of "puppy-dog" eye look, following it as it went with his eyes, to and away from Blake's lips. Smirking, he reveled in the monster he had made.
'I got the kid hooked on nicotine. Nice.'
"Oh for fuck's sake, just finish it…I've got one left, and I'm saving it for me."
Swooping in like a large, predatory bird, Jayden practically knocked the cigarette from his hand as Blake went to take a final, short drag. The thing just barely left the older man's lips as he grabbed Blake's arm, pulling it towards him and wrapping his lips about the end. This time, he could feel that he had been a little too eager, as there was some of Blake's surprised spit on the end as he did so. He didn't care, though. Moaning as he took the last of the cig's smoke, he watched as Blake took the finished result and looked it over, smirking in satisfaction at getting Norman to practically beg for something that came out of his fucking mouth.
"Thanks…" Norman cleared his throat as he emitted the smoke from his mouth, giving a cough.
"That 'elped."
Blake shuffled his feet as he put out the smoke in the imaginary grass.
"Yeah, well it's not everyday I share my cigarette with a dead man- consider it a charity."
Norman gulped at the statement, almost feeling a sudden kinship with his arch rival. It had only been a day, and Blake had used the ARI to reach him on four separate occasions. He had to wonder why exactly, was he bored? Curious? Was it simply because it seemed almost…That Blake was starting to enjoy his company?
'Absolutely not.' The dead man reasoned. 'Maybe he considers this an escape…?'
"So how much did you have to drink before you got here?"
He could tell that he had been a bit tipsy- not drunk, not yet. Buzzed, absolutely. He was dressed this time, a dark blue polo shirt that clung to him well, and a pair of jeans that looked to have been around forever, he couldn't even tell its maker anymore on the back pocket. Lee? Wranglers, maybe? They didn't look cheap.
"A few. Maybe…four or five. Few shots of Jack…"
Carter went to put his hands in his pockets, and turned around as he began to go for a little stroll. Slowly, though, making it obvious that he wasn't there just to walk around the dream world. Norman tilted his head to try and get a glimpse of the other man's face, surprised that he hadn't begun to feel the effects of overexposure to ARI. No bleeding, no trembling…Not yet, anyway. Eventually, everyone would start to react. Maybe Blake had some weird tolerance for the device?
"Sick yet?" Jayden toyed.
"No. Not until morning." He said with an irritated sigh, actually catching Jayden's eye as he turned around and walked towards the house. It was Jayden's way of inquiring if he had any migraines or even just a headache- but it was obvious Blake thought he meant the hard liquor.
"Why are you drinking so much…? Is something wrong?"
The agent confused himself with his concerned tone. Maybe it was the psychologist in him?
Looking back towards the kid, Blake stopped and eyed him suspiciously.
"Perry called." He sighed, and shifted his feet as he thought about how to say it.
"The mayor decided Ash and I need to attend your funeral. He said if I don't…He'd put me on suspension without pay. I won't have that shit. So, looks like I'm taking that trip, anyway."
Norman couldn't hide the smile that came over his lips as he tried to look away.
"Oh, well…That's a shame."
"Norman, shut the fuck up. Just because I'm going to your funeral doesn't mean I agreed to help you in your little scheme. Don't get your hopes up."
Yet he knew now that he had an edge- half the job was already done for him. Now all he needed was a little bit more to push him into his house to collect and safeguard everything he needed done. Not only that, Norman had his own little agenda for him that he was keeping secret until he got down there. Stating it now would only make the deal harder to accomplish.
"I'm still considering a payment for you." Jayden mused, rather ashamed at how low he'd sunk.
"There's gotta be something you want- You can't have everything you want in the world. Name something…I'll see what I can do."
There was a silence as Carter Blake stood solemnly, and it appeared as though he was thinking of that himself. Instead of answering, he began to walk up towards the large porch of the old house. Norman went to say something, but found it rather awkward to mention that this was indeed his house- and that he hoped he didn't screw it up. He had yet to determine if any changes done in ARI were permanent, and carried over to the next session.
Walking up the creaking steps, Blake found himself coming to sit on the old swing that also squeaked with his weight. He looked up to find Norman following him like some lost puppy, and hesitated as he noticed him standing there like he wanted an invitation. Instead, he watched as the young man leaned his back against the white railing of the idyllic scene.
Suddenly, Blake had a thought.
"What the hell can I be sitting on…?" He wondered, looking around.
"…I didn't think you could-"
"The ARI maps itself to your environment." Jayden quipped, "You're probably sitting on a chair somewhere in your house. If there wasn't…Well, the swing wouldn't even be there."
Nodding Blake sat back into the chair, feeling a little better.
"Well...How did you finish my cigarette?"
There was a slight, uncomfortable silence as Carter looked towards the kid, and got the impression that it was just as big a mystery to him as well.
"You know what? I haven't the faintest 'fuckin idea. I'm real enough to 'in-hail smoke, I suppose. I just wish I was real enough to eat. It suppressed my appetite, but that's not going to last for'eveh."
Nodding again, Carter resisted the urge to light another one up. It was amazingly tempting, and it helped balance out the large quantity of alcohol he consumed. It really hadn't hit him yet, binging right before he entered ARI for the fourth time that day. The taste of the strong tobacco mixed wonderfully with the beer and liquor on his tongue.
Speaking of that, he felt a burp rise and struggle out of his throat. However, he cushioned it with his mouth as it made its way out.
"…'Scuse me." He muttered, and only did so when Jayden looked at him sideways.
He swayed a bit on the swing, but kept himself together surprisingly well. Somehow, he felt embarrassed about acting too drunk in front of the kid. He was the adult here; not to mention he had the show the little shit up in every way possible. It brought back a memory from when he was about the kid's age, and walked into a swinger party on one of his many calls.
He wasn't expecting it; it was just a call about disturbing the peace. Imagine his surprise when he knocked on the door and upon not getting an answer, kicked it down and walked into the biggest fuck party he'd ever seen. He's seen his share of porno…But damn- this was something. This was...Interactive. All duty left his thoughts as he saw a few women being hammered…hard, and his mouth practically swelled with drool as he felt his crotch tighten. They invited him to join in order to keep their asses out of jail, and his pants were off before he knew it.
Being the youngest man there, he made it his personal duty to out-fuck all the old farts in the place. His pride growing with his arousal as he took every girl and woman he didn't think looked half bad. Making it a personal duty to get them to scream louder then they had with their previous partner. It was like some crazy Playboy story that everyone thinks is fake, too good to be true. Truth be told, he'd had better. The sheer amount of ass he received made up for it, though. He supposed being a cop had some benefits, eh? Luckily for him, the word never got out, though he was never that lucky again. If it happened today, he'd sooner tell them to shut the fuck up instead. Age at times made him more belligerent then horny.
God, one of them was great at giving head. Just…Legendary. He almost gave the broad his number, even if it was just for the occasional blowjob in the car. Then he remembered that all those bitches were married, and could laugh at himself if he wasn't so damn drained.
'Shit, now I'm pissed. I haven't had sex in months. Haven't had head in forever, either…'
Standing up straight from the railing, Norman moved his hands through his brown, soft hair. At least he still felt 'fresh', he hoped the real-world physics of the ARI didn't include him starting to smell. He wondered when he'd get thirsty. If at all. Wondered just how far the illusion could go.
Almost reading his mind, Blake looked towards the agent with some apprehension building in his voice. Alcohol made him a bit more polite, taking the edge off his temper and making his muscles less tense. Everyone at the station knew you had to get Blake drunk at a party to get him to have any kind of conversation, getting his mouth to move and getting his humanity to show. One of the few times anyone has ever seen him smile was at the annual Christmas party, where he made it his personal mission to be tanked every single year.
"Fuuuuuck. Tomorrow's a Sunday…The Phillies play…What, who?…I forget. You…You 'member, kid?"
Jayden was surprised at Blake's sudden desire to have a conversation. Even more so then his ability to stay in ARI for longer then any human being he'd ever seen. This man was steadily becoming a fascination to him, a medical mystery. It didn't help that it was obvious that the shots of Jack Daniels were beginning to hit him full force.
"…The Red Sox." He remembered, being a baseball fan himself, never caring much for football…Though he did like hockey, too.
"Ah no shit…Ha-ha, that's perfect, you Boston son of a bitch..." Blake remarked, finding that coincidence hilarious.
"They're gonna get their ah'sses kicked, too bad."
"What, the Phillies?" Norman countered, a hint of a smile beginning to form.
"What? Fucking…No! The Sox. The Phillies gonna knock 'em over."
"Oh, they suck." Jayden got suddenly motivated and put his hands on his hips.
"Did you see what they did last year? Fucking…Horrible. Howard can't hit worth a shit-"
"Aw, fuck you, kid…" Blake remarked, a slight edge coming back into his voice,
"He can hit better then that shit-kicking Beltre you guys have, I bet you any money. Not to mention…We won the World Series back in '08! Whatya say to that?"
"Yeah, yeah…" Norman accepted, putting up his hands in semi-defeat. "…and nobody fucking watched it! Lowest ratings in World Series history!"
"We'll see what happens, you little bastard." Blake finished with an up tone to the end of his voice.
"You'll let me know the score, right?"
Blake laughed and kicked a little, sending the swing rocking just a touch as he steadied himself. Hey, Norman wasn't so bad! He may have been a filthy Sox fan, but that was to be expected not being from the area…Now, if he had been a Pirates fan, he would have been forced to beat some virtual ass.
"Hell, I'd make you watch the damn thing if you could, I'd love to see your face when the Sox get their own ah'sses handed to 'em."
Norman's smile widened, jerking his head as he turned around and looked towards the horizon. Oddly enough, the clouds were receding. He'd never seen that before…In ARI, it never got better… only worse.
"So I guess you're an Eagles fan, too?" Jayden remarked, actually enjoying having some conversation with the normally hostile man.
"…Yeah. What about you? Patriots, right?"
Nodding, he actually came to take a seat next to Blake, feeling an odd heat radiating from the man's general vicinity. He burned like a furnace. Norman sat forward, elbows on his knees, trying to not be technically too close to Blake while still maintaining some distance. To his surprise, the lieutenant next to him shifted a little to the side, making room as he propped his arm up and behind the agent himself, just barely avoiding actual contact.
"You…You know? Patriots are a bunch of fuckers…" He cursed, smiling at his own remark.
"That Tom Brady is such a fuckin' pretty boy…Fucking…On cologne and 'shit."
"You know, he's married to a supermodel? From Victoria's Secret, I think."
"Get the fuck out! You shit'in me?" Blake sat up and stared Jayden down like he was being challenged.
"Ah, ah that lucky piece of shit…I mean, those girls are fucking nice…Damn, what I'd do to that. After I got done with any one of 'em…Wouldn't, wouldn't be able to walk straight for weeks…"
Blake smiled wide and playfully elbowed Jayden in the side. In response, the kid's face burnt bright red in embarrassment; obviously, there wasn't much he could say back to the older man in response. What, tell him how turned on he got flipping through a men's Eddie Bauer catalogue? Jesus fuck, that wasn't going to work, was it?
"Uh yeah, that's…That's…"
"Oh yeah, shit Jayden…" Blake laughed, forgetting himself.
"You're a fairy. That's right."
A grimace came across Norman's face, eyes narrowing and teeth clenching.
On the way back from the apprehension of Korda, a typical male conversation ensued. All he could think of was how he had just shot Nathanial Williams after watching the man pull something from his pocket in a quick, fluid motion. As a matter of instinct, he had shot the man dead, a good shot at that. Yet it nagged at him still, a part of him reasoning that his own death was the way of the universe attempting to balance itself. Punishment for killing an innocent man.
In a strange way, Blake seemed to be attempting to comfort his partner. Perhaps parts of it stemming from watching Norman save his own ass- even if it was just a crucifix Nathanial had pulled from his jacket. It was the fact that he was willing to save the life of his partner. There was a long silence when the two got in the car again, and made their way to the precinct in order to question their suspect. Or at least, once he awoke from his unconscious state.
Deep down, the agent knew it wasn't this man, either. Yet it was more of a means of whittling down the list. If these two were confirmed and out of the way, it would make the investigation that much easier, especially down the line when he'd have to explain why they didn't exhaust all leads before using anything resembling an unorthodox approach. It was exactly what ARI was being referred to be the layman.
After apprehending said suspect after a rather unexpected chase through a farmer's market, he was able to finally find Korda…Not to mention the large meat hook that he carried. Blake had found them minutes later, Jayden clasping said hook as he stood over the man's unconscious, bruised body like some lion defending its kill. They had both helped carry the psychopath to the police car, still out cold in the back seat with a pair of cuffs about his hands.
Blake made a whistling noise as they drove down the road, passing a block that contained nothing but strip clubs. Curious, even if deeply disgusted and unmotivated, Jayden moved his head just a little in his direction.
"You see that?" Blake said with a bit of a smile, jabbing Norman in the side with his elbow.
"What?"
"That girl- Goddamn. Wearing that skirt in this weather- poor thing must be cold." He finished with an almost happy tone. There was an obvious arousal to his voice.
It was clear to the agent that he was cat-calling a woman walking down the road, and Norman caught a mere glimpse of a thin, yet attractive lady strolling down the rainy sidewalk, wearing clothing that really didn't fit for this time of year. High heels, mini skirt and a light red blouse that made no secret to her exposed cleavage. At least she had an umbrella, running along as she crouched slightly under it.
"Yeah…Yeah, I see her." Norman went back to his staring match at the rain outside, depressed and longing out the passenger window.
'This is getting awkward.' He recalled thinking. 'I hope this day doesn't get any worse-'
"What are 'ya? Queer?" The brutish Lieutenant mocked, his face looking like a mix of irritation and surprise.
"You barely even looked at her." Blake went back to watching the road, hands clasping the wheel.
"…I used to get those all the time, you know? Back when I first joined the force. I swear- women have this real thing for a man in uniform…Then they cracked down on that shit when they started putting cameras in the cars. Christ, couldn't get them off of me-"
"Carter, please…" Jayden interrupted, his face damn near turning red from the way he seemed to be throwing his "pride" around.
"Please what? Jealous 'cause you can't get any pussy in the FBI, Norm? You sure you ain't a queer?"
This time, a hot and searing blush overtook the agent's face, and he clenched his teeth and looked back out the window.
"Oh…Ohhhhh!" Carter swooned out. A throaty, evil laugh finished it. "Never mind…It all makes sense, now." He turned back and parked the car in the large, multi-tiered garage they had entered. His smile as wide as it could get.
"I don't really wanna talk about it, okay? Let's just keep it professional, please?"
"Well sure there, hot-shot." He smirked, feeling the tension in the air.
"Just keep those hands to yourself and I won't say a word…"
Flashing forward and snapping himself out of his past thoughts, he watched as Blake gave him a look of irritation.
"You couldn't hide it for long, Norm." He chastised. "I could see the look in your face…You read like a book."
"No I don't…"
"…Full of shit, kid." Carter remarked in his drunken stupor.
There was another pause, another moment of tension in the air. Norman swayed in his step, and began to walk towards the other end of the porch. It was then that Blake looked drunkenly towards the younger man, eyes resting on his backside. With all those beers in him, he couldn't help but have a relaxed view of his own sexuality. He was an attractive young man, nice ass, really. He bet grabbing on to it would be just as nice as a woman's, nice and round, great to hold on to. There was a second where he envisioned sinking his fingers into the flesh of that soft, subtle ass and fucking him into submission. For a brief moment, he wondered what it was like to have sex with a man. Was it better? Was he missing out on something his whole life?
'Shit, you're not a fag, stop thinking like that.' Came the voice of supposed reason.
'Yeah, you haven't had any in a while. That's because you haven't been trying, that's all.-'
"-Get that fine ass back here."
It shot out of his mouth before he realized it, though he had meant it as a joke…It sounded rather good as it brushed past his lips. It felt like control, it felt like power. Like he had control over the little Washington cunt, could make him do whatever he wanted. Inside, the gears in his slightly drunken head were turning.
He had watched as Jayden stopped, and looked back with a look of contempt on his pale features.
"What?"
"I said; turn that sweet ass back here. I'm not done with you."
Carter could tell the kid was confused, his eyes slanted down in hatred, but his lips parted as he sought to understand just what was going on.
"What the hell's gotten into you, Carter?"
"Nothing, yet." He smirked, and then laughed in order to show he was simply fucking with him.
"I bet you give great blow-jobs-"
Norman looked to have been taken aback, a look of disgust flashing in his eyes as he jerked back.
"Hey, fuck you anyway!"
"Yeah, yeah, fuck me…" He droned, and watched as Norman once again turned to walk away.
"Kid!' He laughed as he watched the ARI companion began to storm away.
"I'm just fuckin' with you! Hey! Hey, Norman!"
Swaying in his seat, he felt his head spin and cheeks redden. Quickly, he had shifted from enemy, to someone he could tolerate for more then 45 minutes…A rarity for him…To enemies again. He actually rather enjoyed talking to the illusion of a dead man for a while. That had to be the first time he had ever shared a cigarette like that. And it felt…It felt weird, it was a sensation of closeness he hadn't had before. It confused him, it made him uncomfortable.
"Norman!" He screamed again, and he rose to his feet and stumbled over himself, tripping as he went to walk down the steps.
"Ah-shit-!"
There's the moment when everyone trips when they realize it, there's that split second where they know it's going to fucking hurt. Realize they're going to smash face-forward or maybe have enough time to catch themselves, take some of the pressure off where they were going to fall and hopefully not look like a complete asshole when they hit the ground.
Blake didn't have that.
Smacking his head and ARI along with it, he laid at the bottom of the Victorian-era stairs. There was a pounding headache resonating in his forehead, pulsing with each beat of his powerful heart. Groaning, he managed to turn himself around, but only succeeded in feeling the stairs digging into his back, and saw the world spin around him, the sky- the sky was blue. Wait, was he still there? The glasses…He hadn't noticed until then that the glasses had fell off, still lay in the grass next to him.
"Carter?"
The voice came from its expected source, and heard the dead man's steps make its way cautiously towards the downed lieutenant.
"Ye-yeah?" He responded in a tired, drowsy fashion.
"Norm, that you?"
He watched as the figure made its way back to him, standing over him blocking out the sky like some guardian angel.
"Who else would it be, dumbass?"
That made the hard-ass sneer in response, but his expression quickly relaxed as another bought of pain ripped through his back.
"How, how can I see you?" He slurred, watching as two, three...no, four Normans stood next to each other, and he supposed he should be glad there wasn't a halo of stars flying about.
Norman looked from him to the glasses, where his gaze rested on rather oddly. They seemed unusually locked on the device, and then he gazed back with a look of utter befuddlement mixed with awe.
"Carter, how the fuck?"
"You tell me, you shithead!" He swore, voice tired as his lower half strained on his lungs, making it hard to breathe.
"You're the Fed, goddamn it!"
There came a hurried sigh as he looked from the glasses back to the injured cop.
"I don't know what the fuck is up with you- but you're able to do this shit way too early…I think you've been wearin' those too much."
Shifting on the steps, he still made no attempt to help himself up, it was a useless endeavor.
"What…?" Came a slur from his tired lips, licking them because they were dry.
"Just…Never mind. Give them a rest, is all…Now, lets get you up…"
With a sigh, Blake was surprised to find himself being grabbed carefully under his armpits and strong shoulders, and pulled backward just a little.
"Fuck…OW!"
"Sorry! Sorr'ee…"
As much as Norman wanted to enjoy it, it seemed somehow against his nature. Blake's cries of pain felt more like reminders as to his misgivings, his inability to do anything right. Yet still, he moved back, pulling Blake off the childhood home's steps, and away just a little so that he could stand him up.
Now that his arms were around the girthy man, he couldn't help but notice how nice it felt. Warmth flooded his system as he held the hot, rough man in his arms. He had a hard body, not feeling anything soft between the space between his chest and his own. Besides the smell of alcohol and a small hint of fast food, he was able to easily override that and notice the man's natural smell. He found it pleasant, actually. Though it wasn't like any other man he'd ever had the pleasure of being so close to. It wasn't a dirty smell, wasn't a sweaty, disgusting scent similar to what he was expecting. It was just a hard, callous smell. If he could bottle it, he'd probably expect it to be called "Rough Rider" or some shit like that. Jayden almost laughed at the thought.
Subconsciously, he leaned into Blake and rested on his knees as he hugged the man close to him. Burying his face in the back of his neck, he felt his thick, leathery skin on his soft flesh. With a slight inhale, he took it all in, and realized with a rather high level of shame that he was becoming aroused. If he cared, he didn't show it, and instead reached down to feel his own crotch. He noticed at this point that Blake had began to doze off in his grasp, and it only aroused himself further when he took this as a sign the man was comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms.
It was then that Blake made a noise- similar to a snore and a grunt. Snapping it out of his half-aroused state, he mentally smacked himself for being so fucking disgusting- he couldn't imagine Blake even getting a woman what with him looking years beyonf his actual age- like a beaten horse. Like someone who never slept and when they did, on a sack of ugly. Blake was not his type, hell the young man almost gave up on sex anymore. He hadn't had it in a good couple of years. He never had time, not even the desire. Didn't go to bars trolling for a man who just happened to be interested in his clean, professional look. And they usually weren't- he wasn't flamboyant like most of the gays about DC, and didn't make it obvious. He hated that type, anyway.
'Except you're dead and you'll never have to worry about sex ever again. Come on, it's not like you ever missed it… Wait, yes you fucking did. Why the hell else did you masturbate every other day, you fucking idiot? Of course, you missed it. You were just too afraid of rejection, that's it.'
Jayden was tired, and he was dead. That last one being the biggest reason why he figured he was suddenly even entertaining thoughts about Carter Blake. An older, rougher, far less attractive and also violent man. Not. His. Type. He snapped right back to his previous self, and suddenly felt a sort of revulsion for his behavior.
Sitting Blake up, he found himself smacking the man's shoulders to wake him up. There was a shudder, then a moment of revelation when the lieutenant realized where he was. Still apparently connected to ARI despite the glasses long having been knocked off.
"What… ?" He questioned in a dreary tone.
"You passed out. I don't think the fall helped…"
"Oh…" There seemed to be a moment when Carter blinked, tried to recollect himself.
"Wait…What?" He forgot so fast, not really grasping the knowledge at first.
With a sigh, Jayden put all his weight into lifting Blake's right shoulder, propping his right arm up as he helped pull him off the ground.
"Fuck, Blake!" Jayden cried, realizing this was barely possible.
"How much do you weigh, anyway?"
"Two…Two…What? Doctor said…Two-twenty, last time I was in…"
Jayden felt surprised by his answer, recognizing Blake wasn't really fat at all. Not even tall, just barely an inch below him. Not enough to even feel dominant in their strange relationship, not at all. It had to be muscle. That had to be why he could fucking kick down doors without much effort, beat men into submission without even being winded.
"Whatever…Just stand up, okay?"
Blake jerked a nod as he did just that, stumbling a little but finding himself swaying about on two feet. His eyes, half-lidded but still pouted and baggy, stared at the younger man in a sort of confusing, yet grateful hostility. Jayden could see how odd it was that his face didn't seem symmetrical- one half-puffier and more tired then the other side. He wondered if it was from an accident, birth, or simply an effect of Mother Nature's cruel way of aging men who worked hard all their life.
"Why'd you help me…?" He sputtered out, eyeing the agent suspiciously.
With a shrug of his shoulders, the kid looked off to the side. There was a ghost of an awkward smile on his lips, trying to form and making some headway. Noticing that the world around them was beginning to stutter, about ready to shut down for the night much like Carter's brain. A shrug came to Norman's shoulders as he smirked, his eyes actually smiling for his lips, just a little.
"Where else was I going to go?"
Like that, Norman shuddered away. With a blink, he was gone. Blake stood outside his porch, in his shoddy yard with the shitty, dome-like grill rusting on the patio and his infamous old-broken-down black 1977 Firebird on cinderblocks that the neighborhood hated him for. It was getting late; he looked to his gold watch on his left wrist, and noticed it was 1:00 in the morning. In the very least, he didn't have to work the next day. Not unless some douche decided to go on another killing spree or they caught Scott. He'd be notified either way.
Looking towards the old car, he wobbled towards it and kicked away some of the grass that had developed in a swath around it. When he cut the grass, he easily went around it but always left the long strands beside it, due to a simply being too lazy to bust out the weed-whacker half the time. Fuck, he had it for too long, it was his first car and he just couldn't let it go. Not to mention he entertained the idea that when he retired he'd finally have the desire and time to fix it and make it drive-able again. That is, once he got the rats out of the seats and repaired all the wires that would have been long chewed up. However, mechanical shit was never his strong suite. He would need a hobby when his career was long over. Sure as fuck didn't have the patience for people to be a private investigator, he knew that much.
Swaying in the warm outside air, Carter realized that it had finally quit raining, and on odd warm front had come through. That's right- that's why he came outside to begin with. Shit, he was really starting to lose it. He'd already had those damn glasses a day and they were having quite the effect on him already. Looking down, he noticed two fully smoked cigarette butts on the ground, smoked down to the ends.
'So it wasn't all an illusion…'
Fuck, that creeped him out. He looked back to also notice the stairs that apparently the fake stairs in his little 'trip' mimicked, and was surprised to find the glasses sitting there in the exact position he had seen them when they departed his face. It made a chill run up his spine and disperse throughout his body, tingling up and down his back…
'You had to get up somehow, Carter' He recalled.
Shit, he never realized it when it was happening…But Norman did, indeed, help him up. It wasn't so much the act of kindness that surprised him as the act itself. How could a mere illusion even touch him? Feel him, hoist his girth off the ground or even smoke his cigarette?
'He said he was hungry. So what does that mean? What else can he do? How can he be alive and dead at the same time?'
Blake was now convinced it wasn't a hoax after all. That Jayden wasn't alive somewhere pulling a trick on him. Faking his death for God knows what reason. The kid was really dead, and communicating through the device he so carefully protected in life. He didn't believe in ghosts or all that afterlife horseshit- but he had a feeling what was going on here had nothing to do with the supernatural as much as it had to do with the very technical.
It was obviously a technology that he didn't understand- he just barely grasped operating a computer or programming his alarm clock. Yet when he did, he was good at absorbing the information and never having an issue once it came to be stuck in his head. He rarely forgot, and even more rarely asked for help. The man prided himself on teaching himself nearly everything no matter how long it took.
What scared him the most (and even internally, he hated to admit it scared him at all) was that even Jayden didn't know what the fuck was going on. He seemed taken aback by the fact he could sustain the world around them without the glasses- and indeed Blake seemed generally shocked that it was even possible. What the hell did that mean?
As much as he hated to admit it, he would need to get some information from the kid as soon as possible. If he wasn't already drained, he'd have put them right back on and entered the fake world again to meet the man in grey- and what bothered him more then anything was just how excited he was to do so first thing in the morning.
He stumbled up his stairs, grabbing ARI as he made his way. Walking through his house, he shut and lazily latched the back door. Crime wasn't bad in his neighborhood, but it didn't take much. In his drunken sleep, he wouldn't be able to wake up until too late. Setting the glasses on his nightstand, he stumbled about as he removed his shirt and jeans, leaving his dark-and-light green striped boxers on as he sat on the edge of the bed. His head swayed from side to side as a slow and steady pulsing persisted in his skull. It went from behind his eyes to the center of his brain, and back again. It was scary and confusing to the older man- not quite a migraine…Not nearly painful as much as odd. Like someone pumping warm water through his brain, back and forth. Then it changed, going from that into a wiggling sensation, squirming throughout his head.
'Holy Hell, what is that? That's not normal…Feels…Feels like a fucking worm is in there, crawling around…'
All along, he knew it had to be from the ARI. Knew it as sure as he lived and breathed- and a dreadful horror filled him when he realized that perhaps he was toying around with something far out of his league. How did he know it wasn't going to give him a tumor down the line? Cancer? Some other sort of horrible fucking disease? For all he knew, the thing could be irradiating his eyes and boiling them every time he took them on and off-
'Fuck, man. That pussy kid wore them all the time. You saw that. He was fine up until he died…And that's because he fell into a fucking grinder. He looked a little dazed, a little drugged every now and then, but that was all…'
That thought calmed Carter, and his eyelids began to drift when he finally got up and replaced his bare chest for a longer, ill-fitting white shirt with a Budweiser logo from a promotional giveaway. He practically fell on the bed and didn't give much more thought as his eyes drifted asleep; hoping his often livid, realistic dreams would bring him more answers then those in the waking hours.
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