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Enjoy the Moment	By : Arumeicourt Category: +G through L > Heavy Rain Views: 2070 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Heavy Rain, and am not affiliated with Quantic Dream, or Sony. 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Carter wasn't sure why he bothered taking care to not make too much noise as he slipped out of Norman's bed, as he knew such an action wouldn't even stir him out of his usual deep slumber. Looking down at the still sleeping agent, the usual devious thoughts of how he could easily fuck with him arose. One of these days, he'd really have to test the limits of how far he could go with literally fucking him before the man woke up – no doubt, the results would be amusing no matter what.
After a moment of fumbling through his still-open suitcase, Carter managed to locate his spare box of cigarettes and its accompanying lighter. He was about to light one up right then and there before he realized he wasn't in the comfort of his own home. With a sigh, he put a cigarette into his mouth to free his hands before pulling a pair of sweatpants out of his luggage and sloppily slipping them on. He skipped the shirt – Norman's backyard had a privacy fence.
Carter was grateful for that particular decision as he stepped out of the back door into D.C.'s sticky summer heat. Despite not being accustomed to the humidity, Carter was willing to tolerate it for the sake of not boxing in Norman's house, out of pure common courtesy even he possessed – though, now that he thought about it, Norman was the first person Carter had ever been with that didn't dog him about the nasty habit. That surprised him – not only was he used to being nagged about it in previous relationships, he figured Norman wouldn't pass up any opportunity to lecture him about his life choices. He still remembered bringing it up teasingly, due to the fact that the other man's reply had been rather peculiar. Just a small laugh before looking away, mumbling something Carter barely caught about everyone "having their own poison". Whatever the fuck that meant.
Once the cigarette had been lit, Carter took a quick puff before locating a standard, plastic white lawn chair (really, couldn't the asshole set aside a tiny chunk of his gigantic fucking paycheck to afford something decent?) to sprawl back in. The action immediately was followed by a shot of pain from his ass, filling Carter with a healthy dose of self-disgust laced with amusement. How many times had he witnessed the same thing happen to Norman before laughing in his face? Well, that table had fucking turned.
Cigarette still in hand, he propped his elbows onto his knees before leaning his face into his hands. It wasn't that he regretted what happened; it was how much he had enjoyed it. Of course, he knew it had to be pleasurable in some sense, otherwise Norman wouldn't have kept coming back, but he hadn't quite expected to find himself moaning like a whore at Norman's every ministration. And afterwards, he hadn't tried to play it off as natural as possible to save face – it had literally just felt that way. Right.
It had been a burning, festering curiosity in him almost immediately after they had started their little fling together, but something Carter had managed to easily put in the back of his mind. Not until after Norman mentioned having experience taking charge had the thought made its way back into his day-to-day musings. And…he had to hand it to him; he wasn't exactly bad at it by any stretch of the imagination. Thought maybe the situation would have been easier to face if he had been.
With a jerk, Carter realized his cigarette was almost completely dwindled away at this point. He hastily tapped off the lingering ash before milking the rest of it for what it was worth, irritated he had practically wasted the entire thing. After the final smoke, Carter flicked the remainder to the ground, blowing out the results in a smooth, methodical manner. The even hotter breeze blew the smoke away, and Carter found himself almost disappearing with it as his thoughts took over once more.
Sitting down like this, finishing a smoke and measuring his own worth as a man – it sent him months back to the first time they'd slept together. His own feelings and thoughts aside, Carter found himself wondering now what Norman had thought. Carter tried to recall Norman's exact words at the hospital – at the time, he had only really been thinking about the implications that Norman had been on top; he hadn't really stopped to consider that that obviously meant he had never been on bottom.
An overwhelming surge of pride shot through him as he continued playing his memory of the night over in his head, now with the added knowledge that he had, to all extents and purposes, practically taken Norman's virginity. The thought deflated quickly when he realized the exact same truth could be applied in the reverse.
That brought him back to his previous musings about what Norman must have been thinking. Despite all the shit he gave the guy on a regular basis, Carter could acknowledge he was a man with a certain degree of warranted self-respect, rather like himself. It couldn't have been easy to have been put into that sort of situation; especially because once again, like himself, Norman had wanted it to happen. If he could find out what Norman's answer was, maybe this whole thing could be easier to deal with?
Lamenting his lack of a cigarette to clear his thoughts more, Carter leaned back into the cheap chair in order to better allow for his memories to take over. As it had all started in the middle of December, the Pennsylvanian weather had been the complete opposite of what it was now; dry, and bitingly cold.

"Seems like it's a pretty clear cut case then…for once," Ash noted with a hint of an irritated sigh as he pulled the cover back over the recently identified corpse in front of them both.
Ash was right, thankfully. The call had come in a couple of hours ago, yet the case was more or less resolved. The neighbors of the victim had called a good 15 minutes or so after the death itself, which had struck them as odd at first. Yet Blake had just returned from talking to them; allegedly, the sounds of a fight were not uncommon from this particular apartment room, and they hadn't thought to report it until the room had gone completely silent and it was apparent no one was leaving.
The two people living here were a less-than-happily married couple; the husband had a laundry list of offenses, ranging from disturbance of peace to full on assault. The wife had her own record of drug possession and petty theft. After tonight, if she was still alive, Blake could've added murder to her list.
The body of the male had been found lying on couch in the living room in a still drying pool of his own blood. Hardly a foot away was the presumed murder weapon – a common kitchen knife, naturally littered with both their fingerprints. The size of the wound matched the length of the blade from what Blake could see, but they'd have to wait for the autopsy report to be released by forensics before it could be said for certain.
It was the woman's body that was less concrete. She had been found in the bedroom, with a broken nose and blackened eye that appeared unrelated to her cause of death – which was sure to be from overdose. The injuries did, however, highly imply domestic violence; a definite motive for murder. He had debated whether it was premeditated or not with Ash for a while before winning the argument. The woman's blackened eye was already too well formed for it to have been given during the fight, the same holding true for the nasal injury. Plus, the slice on the man's neck was too even, too clean, to have been given amidst a struggle. No, in Blake's mind, his wife had finally snapped and crept behind him while he sitting on the couch, not realizing the threat until the knife was at his throat. All he had managed to do before it was slit was scream to alert the neighbors.
Though they had agreed to label the man as murdered, a consensus hadn't been reached on the woman. Liberal traces of cocaine had been found on the bedside table – too much, in Blake's mind, for it to have been an accident. The way he saw it, she had intentionally snorted too much of the white powder in order to cause the brain hemorrhage that ultimately killed her. It was also difficult to imagine anyone with an untreated broken nose willingly snorting what she must have known to be an insanely high dosage just to get a high.
Still, the important facts of the case were established. A clear motive, a determined time of death, an obvious murder weapon…and hell, an 'apprehended' criminal, considering she was already dead. In all honesty, his job was pretty much done here.
"Always nice to end a Friday without any homework, eh?" Ash's voice echoed from across the apartment room. Blake didn't know if the cheerfulness it contained was mocked or not, nor did he care to find out. Domestic violence cases always left him with a bad taste in his mouth. If the woman hadn't gone and killed herself, he'd probably have shaken her hand for purifying the world a little by killing the bastard…before handcuffing it. She sure as fuck didn't hold the moral high ground; murder was still murder.
Still wearing a slight smirk, Ash gave him an absent wave before exiting the apartment. Blake returned it without much thought as his phone began to ring. About fucking time, too – he had asked for Perry to send him the forensics results as soon as they came back.
Blake blinked in slight confusion as he didn't immediately recognize the number. It was out of state; that much he knew. Probably some bullshit charity… Well, he could use the stress relief of yelling at some stupid fuck for wasting his time. With that cheery thought in mind, he hit the call button before the last ring.
"Yeah? Lieutenant Blake speaking…"
There was a slight pause before anyone answered, and in his almost-constant impatient state, Blake almost hung up the phone then and there until he made out the light sound of someone breathing.
"Hey asshole, if you're going to call just to breath into the fucking receptor, can you do it a little louder? Or at night? Because right now you're just pissin' me off instead of scaring me."
A small snort of a laugh followed his response. "…'Yah haven't changed, Blake…"
Well, he didn't need to recognize the number to figure out who that accent belonged to. Absently, Blake stole a glance at his watch, noting that it had been over a month since he had last seen the FBI asshole.
"Aw, callin' to wish me a Merry Christmas, Norm?"
"Uh…not quite. I'm in town though…thought maybe…we could have a few drinks…?" It took Blake a minute to realize it was an invitation – he was distracted by the agent's tone of voice. He wasn't sure if it was just the quality of the call or not, but Jayden sounded…subdued. Slurred, like someone feverishly drifting in and out of consciousness. He brushed the thought off – undoubtedly, Jayden was just talking outside. If he had whined about the cold rain during October, the kid was probably dying from the December snow.
For a moment, Blake mulled over the idea of refusing the offer, just to be a dick. But it was Friday afternoon after a murder case – he wanted to drink. And after spending the better half of the day arguing with Ash, he didn't particularly want to put up with his usual drinking buddy at the moment.
"…Sure, why not? I'm not off the clock yet….I'll call you back in an hour or so with the details, all right?"
"Okay…guess I'll see'yah then?"
"Yeep." Unceremoniously, Blake hung up the phone with a snap before placing it back into his coat pocket. Truth be told, Blake had been pointedly avoiding thinking about Norman Jayden as of late. With luck, seeing him again would somehow resolve the little issues he'd be having in regards to the agent.
Despite the initial, burning sense of loathing he felt to Jayden originally, it had lessened after the Origami case had been resolved. He was half expecting Norman to act like a jackass, flaunting the fact that he managed to end the killings almost singlehandedly. What he hadn't expected was for the agent to simply file detailed reports to aid the process of tying the loose ends of the case…and then leave, without a single mocking word.
As part of his job, Blake kept a close eye on the news. And as expected, once Jayden left Philly, the media immediately jumped on the guy's dick. But Jayden himself had refused almost every interview, every opportunity to feed his fame, until journalists eventually lost interest and abandoned him as lost potential for a good scoop. At first, that just pissed Blake off more, but when they had met up at that restaurant, Jayden had confirmed his suspicions that he honestly didn't care for being in the public eye. As far as he could see, he just wanted to be left alone to do his fucking job. Having the exact same mindset on both journalists and life in general, Blake could respect that.
It wasn't the newfound and relatively small amount of respect he had managed to find for the agent that bothered him, however. No, the change that was bothering him had come after their little scuffle in the parking lot – or rather, during. There wasn't much Blake loved more than a good fight, so he had to give the kid kudos for holding his own, considering Blake got practice in the little exercise on at least a biweekly basis. But fighting Jayden had been…different. Different in the sense that his punches spoke more of a desire to come on top instead of the usual sense of almost desperation to swiftly end another case. Different in that after the fight, he didn't feel the usual raw satisfaction in proving someone lesser than him, instead feeling…calm after Jayden accepted the loss rather graciously.
But mostly different because he had left the fight harder than a fucking rock.
He tried to justify it, of course. Blake had spent the entire fucking case wanting to beat the shit out of Jayden, so getting to actually do so…well, it wasn't too much of a stretch of the imagination to think his desire to smash his pretty boy face in a little would be strong enough to resemble arousal. Plus, fighting and sex were two highly physical activities that both implied a power struggle until one side folded. While his physical arousal might have been unprecedented in previous matches with common thugs, it was different with Jayden since he knew him personally; his want to hit him was out of sheer dislike rather that what he viewed as necessity when he used force while working. It was explainable – expected, even.
Meeting up with Jayden now would prove that, Blake felt. Besides, maybe the guy would be less of a serious asshole with some drinks in him; he might end up actually enjoying himself, if that were the case. More than anything else though, he realized as his cell went off again (this time actually displaying Perry's number on the front)…he really just needed a drink.

"So how lonely do you hafta be – Not a week before Christmas and you call me up?" Blake gestured to himself with the top of the beer bottle, a hint of a smirk on his face. He was pacing himself, this bottle being only his second – it was far too early in the evening for him to get shitfaced just yet.
Surprisingly, the agent sitting across from him just smirked back slightly before responding. "About as lonely as you, f'ah acceptin' the invitation."
"I'm not picky about the company when I drink…or what I'm drinkin'," he replied loosely before taking another swing. Jayden actually laughed a little at that. The sound was so completely foreign, coming from the uptight bureaucrat, that Blake found himself a little pleased that he had caused it.
"Now'yah just sound like an alcoholic, Blake."
"Ahh, fuck you, kid. It's Friday and I'm off the clock…" he set the glass down before giving the man across him a quick up and down glance, noting the distinct lack of alcohol on his side of the table. "Why aren't you drinking, anyway? Not old enough yet?"
The sigh that followed his latest jeer wasn't full of the usual irritation he had come to expect from the younger man, either. When Jayden looked up again, his lips were still formed in a slight smile. "…'Yah know I'm almost thirty-five, right?"
Blake stuttered a moment, processing that new piece of information. Oh, he had seen Jayden's profile when the officer dispatch file had been posted at the precinct, but somehow he had never bothered doing the math to figure out his age. His eyes had instead focused on the accompanying picture, which had immediately set him into a fit of anger at how the FBI was sending them what looked to him like a god damn kid. Even hearing his supposed age now, he couldn't believe it.
"What? Fucking…bullshit you are, you look like you're twelve." He snatched the wallet resting on the table quickly in disbelief, ignoring the other man's protests as he sought out Jayden's driver's license. Blake noted that underneath it was a gently folded piece of paper that looked entirely out of place in the otherwise professional looking piece of leather – he pulled that out too for good measure, setting the wallet back on the table as Jayden snatched it back quickly. Blake ignored this as he returned his focus back on the form of identification, reading aloud, "1977…" After a quick bit of math, he conceded, flicking the license back to the agent who returned both the ID to its proper holding as well as his wallet back to his pocket. "Well…whatever, it's all about experience anyway, asshole. When'd you join the FBI?"
Jayden's slight hesitation before answering was enough to assure Blake that he had won that argument. "…2006, but…" he finally sighed. "It took me awhile to get settled aft'ah I finished getting my degree…'nd I had to do a lot'a on the job training…"
Blake grinned a little in victory. "Fuckin' knew it…" He sat back into his chair more comfortably upon one-upping the less experienced little fuck, absently hitting the folded paper against the fingers of his opposite hand as he went on, "Joined the force almost right outta high school…must be, what, almost twenty-five years ago? I was a cop when you were still waiting for your balls to drop, so yeah, I think I'm pretty entitled to make fun of your age, kid."
He basked in his victory a little while longer as he watched Jayden roll his eyes and take another drink of water. "…Speaking of that, what's this, Norman? A fucking love note?" He waved the pressed sheet just out of his reach teasingly, enjoying himself thoroughly as Jayden choked on his water, spilling half of it down his front as he managed to swallow the rest.
Still coughing, Jayden leaned forward and tried to snatch it away. "You're a fuckin' kleptomaniac, Blake!"
"Must be something you don't want me to see, then…" he trailed off mockingly as he unfolded the paper. Jayden stopped trying to grab it away once it had been completely opened, his cheeks flashing red in embarrassment as he avoided meeting his eye.
Blake looked from him back to the paper in slight confusion. He had been expected a phone number, or an embarrassing letter…Instead, it was a drawing that appeared to have been colored by a kid. It wasn't half bad, actually…Blake could recognize the man in the center as Jayden, who looked like he had just walked out of a damn comic book, what with the lasers coming out of his stupid space goggles. Blake's eyebrows raised a little as he followed the beam to an overweight man in a police uniform, assuming it to be Scott. It wasn't until his eyes fell to the bottom of the drawing that he recognized one of the figures in the drawing as…himself, carrying the figure of a much smaller person. Realization hit him as he realized who the artist had to be.
"Did uh…Did Shaun do this?" he asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck a little as heat rushed to his face.
"…Yeah." For some reason, Jayden seemed as uncomfortable as he was about the picture.
"Well, that's…nice," he replied finally, making a move to hand it back to him.
"…It's yours, actually."
"What?" Blake blinked, glancing back up at the man who was pointedly avoiding eye contact with him again.
"Shaun gave it to me, and I, well…I made'a copy for you. Thought you might want one…"
Blake cleared his throat in shock at the gesture before nodding in acknowledgement, accompanying it with a quick, "…Thanks."
How long had it been since he had spoken that word…and actually meant it? He had certainly never uttered it to the man sitting across to him - that was for fucking sure. But the action on his part had actually warranted it. Though he did a damn good job hiding it, Blake had chosen his job for more reasons than it paying the bills and being a constructive outlet for his rather destructive nature – he did enjoy the occasional reminder of the actual meaning behind the police motto "To Protect and Serve".
Blake watched the younger man across from him with a reinforced sense of curiosity. The red in his cheeks seemed to be leaving, yet he still seemed unwilling to look back at him. Actually…all the color in his face appeared to be fleeing, leaving his complexion even paler than usual. Blake's newfound interest was replaced with confusion – something not lost on Jayden as his eyes darted away, as if seeking refuge in something behind him. He went to stand up a little too quickly, knocking his empty glass off the table – with natural reflexes honed over a long career in the police field, Blake caught it easily before it could shatter below the table. He returned from beneath it just in time to see Jayden beginning to walk away.
"Whoa- hey, what the hell's wrong with you?" Blake asked in an utterly bewildered fashion, eying his now shaking drinking companion up and down as if expecting the source of the problem to display itself.
"N-nothin', I just…think I might'a caught a bug or something…" Jayden replied hurriedly without stopping his stride to the bathroom – though Blake would call it more of a 'flee' than anything else.
"God dammit, Jayden, why the hell would you invite me out to drinks if you're fucking sick?" he asked in disgust, scooting his chair as far away as possible as the contaminated FBI agent walked passed him.
"…S'ahrry." He just barely caught before the agent went out of earshot.
Though he was still confused at the sudden change of both Jayden's appearance and behavior, he was a little glad he now had a temporary break from him. Blake could only be so social for so long, and Jayden's quota was fast arriving.
Despite the fact that their conversation had been shockingly pleasant, it didn't fail to make Blake feel uncomfortable. Still argumentative in nature, it was more akin to the playful sort of sparring of their last encounter than anything they had shared previously. That was where the problem lied – the sexual tension was thick enough that Blake could have grabbed one of the table's knives and cut right through it. He couldn't understand how he could simultaneously want to just sit and enjoy the other man's company, smash his face into a wall, or…tear off his 'classy' suit pants and sink right into his ass– the feelings not separate, but feeding off and enhancing one another.
More to take his mind off that particular subject than anything else, Blake glanced down at Shaun's picture again. Blake allowed the smile to fully form this time around as no one was present to witness it. He picked it up and folded it gently along its existing creases from being stored in Jayden's wallet, reaching down below the table again to pull up his briefcase. God knows the agent was going to come back and knock all their shit over again – No, it'd be safer in there.
Blake's hand slid across the report he had taken home from earlier to work on as he set the picture in. His intention was to put it aside until he got home, but the temptation to work was ingrained into his system at this point. He thus pulled the file out and began to take advantage of the moment of peace to read over his own overview of the case thus far. As usual, he found himself completely submerged in the task as he blocked the rest of the world out.
"What was the woman's cause of death?" Jayden asked curiously. Blake jumped slightly as he just then realized the man had likely long since returned and had been reading over his shoulder.
"…Overdose," he mumbled in response, putting the report back into the folder. Jayden nodded lightly; despite the gesture of agreement, Blake found himself on guard at the man's curiosity. His rational side reminded him that Jayden wasn't even on this case, yet his defensive tendencies to any perceived threat was such a dominant trait in his personality that civility and even logic were shifted aside.
"Mm…" Jayden returned to his seat, and Blake noticed as he did so that the neck and sleeves of his jacket were wet, as if he had just carelessly splashed water all over his face. While still paler than what he considered 'healthy', Jayden's face had regained some color. He ignored all this as he went to respond to the unspoken challenge to his conclusion.
"What?" he snapped.
"Just curious that you'd label it suicide," Norman blinked in response at the sudden hostility. "If she had a record of drug offenses, it's possible she just took'a heaviah dose than normal as a result of what happened. She might not've meant tah-"
"–…Norman, who really gives a shit if she meant to or not? She killed her own husband, that's what concerns me. I don't care if her intention was to get high as fuck to forget about it, or kill herself to avoid dealing with it – the fact is, she did it, and now she's fucking dead."
The words were harsh – intentionally so, as Blake just wanted the kid to drop it. But he should have known the bastard wouldn't back down after his analytical bullshit of a view point had been stated. Norman's lips tightened before he opened his mouth to respond, the friendly smile from earlier gone. "…I'm just saying there's a difference between overdose and suicide – legally speaking, I mean. If 'yah put it as suicide, insurance companies might refuse to-"
"Oh, of course!" Blake interrupted with a cold laugh. "I forgot I was dealing with a fucking Fed. How could I forget about the financial part of this! Tell me, Jayden, are you seriously so removed from the real world after sittin' behind a desk all day that that's all you can fucking think about? I thought killing a man might've dragged you out of that mindse-"
"Fuck you, Blake!" The slam of Norman's fist into the wooden table shook their drinks, almost making the glass containers fall to the floor. Blake eyed the shaking beverages for a moment, surprised upon looking up that Jayden was shaking just as hard again as he stood up and began to walk away. He stopped for a moment, reaching into his pockets unsuccessfully the first few times. Eventually, he managed to pull out his wallet and throw a few bills on the table before turning to leave the bar entirely.
Blake watched the scene in silent fury before a small cough from behind him announced the presence of their waiter. The young man shifted uncomfortably – apparently, the guy wasn't used to drunken arguments just yet. He should be grateful Jayden at least had been sober to pay before leaving.
"…Just put it on my tab," he sighed, not in the mood to deal with another inexperienced little shit in his present state of being. With a final glance that quite plainly stated it wasn't up for negotiation, Blake turned and followed Jayden's route out of the bar and into the parking lot. To his surprise the agent was still present, huddled against the outside wall of the building, akin to how Blake had found him last time. At that moment, Blake would have loved to be the one to throw the first punch this time around. This time, however, he'd make sure it wasn't a playful fight so much as a complete beat down.
This plan was squashed before it could come to fruition once the two met eyes. The blood shot look Jayden's contained screamed of an entirely unstable physical state. This indicator was confirmed hardly seconds later as he attempted to support himself without the building's aid. Time seemed to stop the next moment as Blake realized what was going to inevitably happen next - and he was just as confused as Jayden appeared to be when he quickly stepped forward just in time to shoot his arm out to prevent Jayden from falling flat on his face. He yanked the arm back to set him against the wall again, keeping it there until Jayden managed to steady himself.
Blake let out a frustrated sigh that was more like to a hiss than anything else as he pulled his arm away, turning away from the fragile man entirely as he ran a hand through his hair. "Just a little bug, huh?" As he turned, he noted that Jayden was doing his best to not look at him.
"Look, I-… It's gonna pass in a second, so let's just forget about this, 'ahkay?"
Blake's hands were clasping Jayden's shoulders before he even realized he had moved. He wasn't sure if his initial intention was to drive him into the wall, but he instead drug the man closer. Despite the glossy look in Jayden's eyes, he could easily make out confusion in them as well, in addition to something he was pretty sure to be humiliation. Just like last time, the close contact mixed with the high aggression levels of both parties sent mixed signals throughout his body – especially in his groin, where he could feel the beginnings of an erection forming. More in frustration with his own emotions than Jayden's behavior, he tightened his grip on the man's arms, his nails digging past the coat into the soft flesh it protected. Jayden jerked upward in his grip with a small noise of protest; the almost feminine sound was completely new, coming from him. It only made Blake more confused – and thus more irritated – as he grew harder.
It was Jayden's previously slight shaking gaining strength that brought Blake back to why he was grabbing him in the first place. Droplets of blood, small at first, began to steadily drip from his nose as his leg start to give way.
"What…Norman! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
God, the guy could be having a fucking seizure or something and he was standing here getting stiff about it – he may not particularly like Jayden, but there was obviously something physically wrong with him. And…well, the whole bar had seen the two of them together, so if he up and died in the middle of the night, he'd probably be taken in for questioning about it. With a shove forward, Blake removed one of his arms as he used the other to half-drag Jayden back to his car. If it wasn't for the stress of the situation, he'd almost feel like his fucking date, opening the car door and making sure he safely got inside.
"We're going to the hospital. I don't buy your shit for a second – and the only way I'll ever be involved with you dying is if I think I can get away with it."
"I can't go to the hospital, Blake…" It sounded more like a plea than a fact, though a part of Blake had to admit he was rather hoping for that answer. He didn't particularly care for the idea of spending his entire day off tomorrow getting 'interviewed' by the FBI as to why one of their currently most famous agents was in the hospital, either.
"All right…" he began, seeking for a compromise that would work on both their favors, "if I drive you to your hotel instead, will you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you?"
The agent bit his lip in hesitation, which immediately set him off. "Listen, dipshit, it's that or the hospital."
"…I don't have a hotel yet," Jayden admitted after a moment.
"Well, I…Wait, what?" The urge to punch the younger man across the face despite his feeble state was growing almost too powerful to resist. In order to fight the temptation, Blake closed his fists around the steering wheel tightly.
"I didn't really-…I kinda just…drove up here. I went to Ethan's first, but it turns out they're at his parent's for Christmas, so I called you…"
If Blake gripped the wheel any tighter, he'd probably break the entire thing off. He was actually tempted to do so, just so he'd have something to beat Jayden across the head with. Instead of responding, he turned the keys in the ignition and took the car out of park with entirely too much force.
"…Where are we goin'?" Jayden asked in both confusion and a tiny bit of panic. Pressing his lips together into a tight grin that illustrated sheer anger instead of amusement, Blake responded without looking at him.
"My place."

Blake stood back after pulling open his front door, ushering Jayden to enter. The meaning behind the act was mostly so he could make sure the agent stayed within his line of vision in case his stride became too unsteady again – Jayden had drifted in between the stages of consciousness on the drive here, hardly saying a word. Despite his assurance that "it'd pass", he appeared, in Blake's eyes, even worse off.
However, as he shut the door behind him without breaking eye contact with Norman's retreating back, Blake realized the interaction would feel more at home between a kidnapper and their captive. The thought made his groin twitch again in protest – once more, he ignored it as Jayden turned unsteadily a little from across the house to shoot him a questioning look.
"…Sit down before you hurt yourself," he called down the hall in a bored tone of voice as he hung his coat up. The sound of leather shifting told him without looking that Jayden must have complied, which he couldn't help but find a little amusing – how many times had the kid blatantly disobeyed him during the Origami case?
"Well, start talkin'" Blake ordered as he took a seat on the couch by the agent, the cushion in the middle separating them. Propping his elbow against the armrest, he turned so he was completely facing the man, ready to read his body language for any lies.
"….What'yah wanna know, Blake?" Jayden sighed in response. He hadn't removed his coat, instead wrapping himself into the article of clothing more for comfort from the cold – or perhaps as a subconscious movement of self-defense.
"What the fuck do you think? I want to know what you're lying about. I don't know how a cold works for you assholes down in Washington, but here we don't…we don't bleed from our noses…So you're going to tell me the truth…or I'm dragging your ass back to the car and driving straight to the hospital and you can tell them. 'Can't guarantee they won't have to treat you for a concussion and some broken bones first."
It was only because he was watching Jayden's face carefully for reactions that he managed to note it had grown even paler after the threat. He grabbed his shoulders shakily and pulled himself in to a strange sort of self-hug, the dazed blur in his eyes growing more noticeable by the second. It was more out of genuine concern than a threat that Blake leaned forward to push him back into the couch. A small bit of panic was present on Jayden's face as he took the contact the wrong way, slowly – unwillingly – moving his head up to meet his eyes.
"…After the case…" he mumbled, his speech so slurred that Blake had to lean forward to catch anything, "I uh…sometimes get…panic attacks. I don't know…My vision goes out, I start shakin'…Sometimes I get nosebleeds, or vomit…I guess they're pretty bad," he finished somewhat lamely. Something clicked in Blake's brain as he remembered how Jayden had appeared at the restaurant; when he had first walked up to them, Jayden looked legitimately fucked up. He had asked Mars lowly - so Shaun wouldn't hear -what the hell was wrong with him, but he hadn't received more than a shrug for an answer. Apparently, it had been a mystery to Mars too.
But the symptoms Jayden had been exhibiting so far – with the exception of his nose bleeding – weren't all that different from what Shaun had suffered through the first couple of weeks after he brought him to the hospital. Shaun's were mostly triggered by things that forced him to remember those long days and nights in the grate; specifically, rain water and police officers. With Jayden, it was likely caused by a hike in blood pressure – a response to any type of stressful situation.
"…Makes sense. So, what, the FBI doesn't give you good enough health insurance that you can get medicated for that shit?" Blake sneered. He meant to just insult him for his ineptness to just go to a doctor – yet at the words, Jayden stopped shaking entirely, instead sitting still as if the weather outside had frozen him.
"…Jayden?"
"I…I am on medication, actually. It's not…helping…"Jayden trailed off with a bitter laugh. Something about the ambiguity of his answer made Blake actually not want to push the envelope – he had interrogated enough people at this point to know that doing so would only cause Jayden to close up.
"So… why don't you just talk to your provider? See if they can prescribe you something stronger…"
"That…wouldn't help. It just fights the symptoms, not the problem. Trust me; I'm better off just lettin' 'em pass..."
For a long moment, Blake silently considered everything Jayden had said to this point. It was obvious the kid wasn't being entirely truthful in his answers, but they seemed to fall into place too well to be completely false. It'd be an interesting event under different, less potentially life threatening circumstances – a match between two men whom were absolute experts in dealing with lies, albeit their methods of exposure differed greatly.
"…You know what I think, Norman?" Blake paused, not so much to let Jayden answer if not to organize his thoughts. He could feel all the pent up hatred for the man in front of him rise to the surface – rather like a volcanic eruption. The words began to flow uncontrollably like lava, seeking to destroy everything in its path.
"I think you're a fucking idiot. You're so fucking caught up in your job, other people… everything except yourself, when you're the god damn problem. You think the FBI wants someone workin' for them that could pass out at any given minute? You think Shaun would like to see his little idol puking all over himself in public? Most of all, do you think I want to tend to your ailing ass? If you hadn't shown up, I'd be happily passed out on this couch right now, but instead I have to babysit a guy I barely fucking know, all because his priorities are so fucked up that he's stopped giving a shit about himself.
"You wanna know what I thought after our fight? 'Well, fuck me, the kid actually wants to improve himself.' I was so used to you acting like you were fucking Boy Wonder all the time, unable to admit you're the same shit as the rest of us.
"But now look at you – you look fuckin' pathetic. Maybe your medication doesn't work – fine. But you were at least right about one thing; it'd only help the symptoms. You need to get rid of the problem yourself."
Blake took a moment to breathe in deeply, just as a dawning look of comprehension seemed to take over Jayden's face. The small shot of curiosity this action brought wasn't enough to quell his desire to continue ranting, however, as he opened his mouth to begin anew.
"Why do you have panic attacks? Is it because you killed Scott?
"…No, if I have you pinned right, you're still fuckin' hung up over Williams. You need to get over that shit. Yeah…you shot him, and he probably didn't deserve it. But it happened, and unless those magical glasses of yours give your tears healing powers, all your crying isn't going to bring the guy back. So why don't you man the fuck up and get over it?"
"…'Yah right."
Hearing the admission coming from the cocky asshole should have been a defining moment in his life. One he could capture on video and replay whenever he felt he needed a quick ego boost, or just for a good laugh. What it wasn't supposed to do be was absolutely infuriating. Yet that was the only emotion that filled Blake at that particular moment. There was no doubt in his mind that the words were spoken sincerely, but it wasn't with a sense of humility. No, he had sunken far below humbleness, the words dripping instead of self-loathing.
"Well…I know I am, but you're-…you're missing the point here completely," Blake sputtered slightly before taking a deep breath to regain his composure. "Don't pull that self-pitying shit on me, Jayden!"
"No, Blake, because you're fucking right! I never thought I'd say this, but you've totally got it this time. And what a thing to be right about, the guy you couldn't stand since day one turns out to be a-…a..."
"A what, Jayden?"
"I…I don't know, Blake, you tell me! You're the expert at insulting oth'ah people!"
"Fine, let me help you! I can add it to the list of things you can't do by your-fucking-self. You're a cowardly, miserable, self-pitying little pussy - and somehow, all at the same time, you manage to be a cocky son of a bitch that thinks his shit doesn't stink. I don't know how you do it! It's a god damn miracle. Most of all, though, you're a waste of fucking potential." He actually stopped listing off the endless amount of insults he had stored away for Jayden personally when he caught the look on his face again. Shock.
"You want me to keep going? I can do this all night, asshole!" Blake reached forward and grabbed the startled man by his shirt, yanking Jayden back with him as he leaned back.
"…Nah, I uh…I think I got the general idea, Cartah." The sudden use of his first name almost made him drop the agent in surprise. "'Yah right…again. Well, only on that last part, enehway," he added dryly. "It's not about Nathaniel …well, not really. I know what I hafta do to stop 'em…I'm not gonna like it very much, but…I'll do it."
The ambiguity of his answer wasn't lost on Blake, yet despite that fact he felt for the first time today that the younger man was being completely honest with him. Still, he had to be sure it was for the right reason. "…Are you saying this because you genuinely want to fix yourself, or is it because you think I'm going to strangle you otherwise?" he demanded, shaking his grip slightly in emphasis.
Jayden blinked – only now, apparently, taking into account Blake's hands gripping his shirt so dangerously close to his neck. "…Now? Both."
In spite of himself, Blake couldn't hold back a short laugh as he released Jayden, pushing him back into the couch. He leaned back into his side of the furniture with an exhale of relief more than anything else, as if he had just finished a particularly satisfying jog and was seeking to relax. As he shifted his hips in order to seat himself more comfortably, he realized his body had received an entirely different message from his brain.
He had an erection again.
Blake quickly tore his eyes away from it, praying against logic that Jayden wouldn't notice. A surprised cough from across the couch immediately proved these hopes false as his gaze unwillingly made its way to Jayden's face. His cheeks, so ordinarily drained of color, were now a slight pink from embarrassment at the awkward situation. However, his eyes spoke of a certain perplexity – as if the whole thing was a puzzle piece he wasn't quite sure where to place.
"…Well," Jayden laughed softly, as if to alleviate his own discomfort. "I'd say this explains why you're always screamin' at people at the precinct, but…I don't rememb'ah this happening before…"
"Why, were you fucking looking?" Blake challenged, trying to turn the tables. Jayden just laughed again lightly before shaking his head, the tiniest of smiles still firmly planted on his face. Blake longed to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face, but there was no feasible way he could deny that his hard-on had absolutely nothing to do with him. Awkwardness, shame, humiliation…all of those emotions were present, but more than anything else, Blake felt a sense of fear of that his image – his very persona – was being attacked. He wasn't used to being put on the defensive. Even before he became a cop, he was never the person cornered. The only thing he could think to do was put himself back on the offensive.
"All right…let's pretend for a moment it was because of you. What would you do about it?" Blake asked in a sputtered way, speaking mostly off the top of his head as he sought to throw the subject off himself. Jayden merely raised his eyebrows slightly, making a heat caused by both anger and shame take Blake's face.
"What would I do? Nev'ah saw you as the type that didn't want'tah be in control…" Jayden trailed off loosely in amusement, his eyes lazily looking him up and down before resting on his chest. Before Blake could respond, a sharp yank on his tie brought him closer to the smartass agent. It took him several seconds before he realized the action wasn't to egg him on – Jayden was taking the piece of clothing off.
An urgent sense of panicked fear filled Blake now – not with the fact that his clothes were being taken off, but that Jayden was the one making it happen. Not himself. He quickly shoved Jayden off, back into the couch's armrest where he pinned him down and sought to tear off his clothes instead.
Blake could remember quite a few occasions during the case where he felt like a caged zoo animal when dealing with the younger man. Like the bars around an exhibit, his normal, violent approach to dealing with what he saw as "burdens" during cases was confined by Jayden's federal status, meaning he could only watch fumingly as the seemingly 'superior' man worked without regard to his own methods, except to scorn them. It wasn't entirely unlike a child sticking his hand into the bars, just teasingly out of reach of getting horribly bitten by the beast on the other side.
Now? Jayden hadn't just stuck his hand into his cage – he had jumped right over the bars into it. He'd just have to deal with the fucking consequences.
With a newfound resolve, Blake accepted what was about to happen. Part of his subconscious was still waging war against him, but he ignored the voice of 'reason' in his head screaming at him that he had to suppress his urges. He didn't want to think about the implications behind both his feelings and his actions - instead, he latched on to the one solid fact that he knew to be true. Right now, he wanted to fuck Jayden into his couch until neither of them could move.
Blake looked down in slight surprise to find his clothes carelessly lying on the floor by Jayden's – apparently, he had been too caught up in stripping him down and internally battling with himself to notice the agent had still been fighting to do the same.
Giving the defiant little bastard a warning look, Blake pushed him back into the couch again before getting off him entirely. Jayden raised his eyebrows again, this time in confusion. Blake ignored it entirely as he left the living room, moving across his house in long, rapid strides until he reached the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Moving his more commonly used items aside, he managed to find the small tube of lubricant he had left-over from a previous relationship.
It was rather old and a generic store brand kind, but it was all he had – and Jayden would be god damn happy with what he gave him. The only reason he was going through the trouble at all was becausehe didn't want to experience the burning, painful friction that was anal sex without some sort of lubrication. As if to prove this to himself, he squeezed some of the liquid into his hand, rolling it around in his palm before taking his length into hand. Shivering slightly from the pleasurable cold against the otherwise hot organ, he moved his hand up and down to evenly distribute the liquid before returning back to the living room.
Jayden was still lying on his couch, though he shifted into a sitting position upon seeing his return. Without looking at him, Blake threw the tube in his general direction.
"Hurry up," he ordered coldly, doing his damn best to keep all traces of the lust and excitement building up inside of him out of his voice. Jayden blinked in surprise at the lubricant that had landed on his lap, sitting up fully before taking it in hand.
"Well, least'yah know this much…Must not be your first time doin' something like this, huh?" Jayden mused, flipping the tube through his fingers before throwing it lightly from hand to hand.
It was obviously meant as an insult to his sexuality, but the force behind the remark was greatly hindered by the sheer uncertainty in Jayden's voice. It was because of this that Blake merely smiled at the jab before leaving the room entirely. He didn't want to watch the kid apply the stuff – why the hell would he want to watch Jayden stick his fingers up his ass?
I don't know, why do you want to do this at all, faggot?
The harsh thought was immediately answered by his dick throbbing slightly from exposure to the cold air of his house, otherwise neglectfully unstimulated. Blake thought he had managed to silence the voice of opposition inside him – but it was something that he couldn't quell entirely, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. The best solution he could come up with was stopping all thought processes entirely.
You know what? Just stop. Stop thinking about it. You accepted his invitation earlier because you wanted to drink...And…you're going to accept this one, because now you want to fuck. It's that simple.
"Uh…Blake? It's done…" Blake could easily note that his voice didn't sound nearly as cocky as earlier – this was confirmed seconds later when he reentered the room and saw the uncertain look from earlier remaining plastered across Jayden's face – it was hard to believe he had been the one who initiated the whole thing. More than likely, for some misguided reason, he must have thought he wouldn't be the one on the receiving end. That assumption actually gave Blake the boost of confidence he needed to begin; after all, apparently he had some roles to set straight.
His renewed vigor must have somehow been visible, as Jayden met his eyes before opening his mouth to speak. Whether he was trying to object, or reason his way out of the situation – Blake never found out, as he shot his hand out to cover Jayden's mouth, muffling the sounds that followed completely. The hateful glare that followed made him laugh as he positioned himself right up to Jayden's opening. With the lightest of smirks, Blake shoved himself in.
The sheer amount of resistance his cock was met with sent a wave of pleasure throughout his body, followed by a moan he had no hope of subduing. He barely registered as he pushed himself all the way in that Jayden wasn't making a sound – he was so fucking tight, it was hurting him, so how could he…?
Blake realized with a start that the pleasure had been effectively masking a sharp pain until that point. His prior musing was immediately answered as sharp teeth, previously digging into the hand he had stupidly left covering the agent's mouth, withdrew from their now bleeding indentures. With a curse, Blake yanked his hand away, small droplets of blood falling all the while as Jayden's now-free mouth parted open to allow the previously trapped groans to escape. The act was probably more instinctual in response to the sudden pain than malicious, but Blake shoved that thought aside as he established a rhythm of thrusting that was neither slow nor gentle.
"Mmph – Slow…down…Blake!" Jayden managed to utter in between thrusts, moving his arms behind his back for support. The gesture pushed Blake closer, and he didn't bother masking the look of disgust that followed due to the intimacy it provided.
"Get the hell off me," Blake snarled as he tried to remove himself from Jayden's vice grip unsuccessfully, doing nothing to soften the strength or speed of his movements in and out. The hands gripping his back so firmly shifted slightly. At first, Blake thought they were obediently moving back to retreat to his sides once more – until he felt rather long fingernails sink into his skin deeply before Jayden yanked them back in a single, fluid motion. The salt from the sweat on his back mixed with the broken skin, stinging the freshly made wounds painfully. Blake couldn't confine the initial yelp of pain, but shoved his face forward into Jayden's exposed neck to hide the smaller groans that followed. Seeking vengeance, Blake traced down Jayden's neck with his lips before capturing the soft skin where his shoulder met his neck…and biting down harshly, drawing blood.
With a pained cry of his own, Jayden lurched his body forward in response. The noise of discomfort quickly morphed into pleasure as he inadvertently pushed himself back into the perfect angle just as Blake shoved himself forward. The reaction made Blake grin with satisfaction, in part because of how the walls surrounding him tighten down even more in response, sending his body a shot of pleasure. He grabbed Jayden's waist to steady him, in order to maintain the position that brought him so much satisfaction. Despite his bruise-inducingly firm hold, he felt the hips under his hands begin to move forward to match his thrusts.
Blake found himself not caring as Jayden pushed against his back to bring him closer for leverage, as the pleasure steadily building distracted him far too much. He had a feeling the action meant Jayden wasn't far off from climax either. Blake pulled him off the armrest of the couch by his sides while moving his hips upward so his back remained lying down. All throughout, Jayden was doing his best to continue pushing against him with absolutely no sense of restriction or timing.
It only took a few more friction filled thrusts forward from both parties before Jayden came with a masculine moan that sent shivers down Blake's spine. The angle he had set up ensured that none of the results reached him, instead splattering all over his stomach and chest. The sight of Jayden laying beneath him, covered in his own cum as he panted in effort to continue matching his movements, was almost too much to take in. Just as the pleasure finally became too much, one last devious idea popped in to Blake's head. He pulled out quickly, just in time for his semen to land all over Jayden's torso, mixing with his own.
Blake very nearly found himself collapsing in to the mess he and Jayden had just created as Jayden released his hold on his back with an irritated sigh. Bringing his arms back so his elbows were propping him up, Jayden moved a hand to the sticky mixture of both their fluids, eyeing the small quantity that stuck to his fingertips with a mixture of subdued rage and open amusement.
After a moment of surprisingly relaxed silence as both men took in exactly what had just taken place, Jayden shifted his way out from underneath him before meeting his eyes with a dry expression that held no regret. "…I'm gonna take the liberty of borrowin' your shower…"
Blake almost couldn't believe himself as he returned the look without lamentation either. "Why?" he asked teasingly as he leaned in to lick the drying blood off his shoulder. "That's a good look for you."

Even Blake found himself shivering slightly as the snowflakes hit his bare shoulders - since he had only gone out to his backyard for a quick smoke, he had only bothered pulling on a pair of clean boxers. The cold breeze bit against the exposed scratches from earlier as a result. Even though it caused him quite a deal of discomfort, he couldn't help but simultaneously be amused by them.
Blake turned, the cigarette still dangling from his lips slightly, at the sound of his sliding glass door opening. Jayden walked out and closed it behind him – he too was also incredibly underdressed for the weather, draped only in a towel around his waist.
"I give you a minute before you go back inside bitching," Blake estimated with a teasing undertone before lightly tapping off excess ash from his cigarette.
"…I don't think I'll take you up on that." The laugh that followed sounded a little forced, though Blake wasn't sure if it was from the cold or what had just happened.
"Actually…" Jayden made a move to open the door again before Blake shot his arm out to drag him to an empty seat.
"We need to talk."
"We can't do that inside?" Jayden grumbled as he shoved several inches of layered snow from the empty lawn chair before lowering himself down – immediately jumping back up as he winced in pain. Blake didn't even try to subdue the snigger that followed as Jayden glared at him hatefully.
"Nah, the cold might make you actually get to the point…Might get some actual honest answers outta'yah for once."
"Well, fire away then," Jayden sighed.
There was a moment's silence, and Blake took advantage of it to raise his cigarette to his lips and take another drag. After blowing out the smoke, he slowly turned to better face the agent beside him.
"So…what the hell happened?"
"You're asking me?" Jayden sputtered in disbelief.
"Yeah, because you started it."
Jayden didn't seem to have a response to that, shifting around uncomfortably before opting to alleviate the accusation by firing one of his own. "…You finished it."
Rather than set him off the defensive, Blake laughed, releasing small puffs of smoke from his lips as a result. Jayden glared at him again before averting his eyes, bending down slightly to gather some of the fallen snow from the chair. He played with the frozen powder absently, rolling it around in his hands as he appeared to be searching for an answer.
"I don't…really know, Blake. I think I just needed a release…a…an outlet. You know…the stress relief…endorphins being released…" Jayden's teeth had begun to chatter together, making it even more difficult to make out what he was saying than usual. The answer was rather incoherent, but Blake accepted it for now. God knows he didn't have a better one.
"So it wasn't because you harbored a deep, suppressed attraction for me?" he asked lightly, more to drag the conversation away from anything serious than anything else. It took him a moment to reason why he felt a sudden sensation of stinging pain and cold, before snow and water trickled down his bearded face. One brief glance to the look of guilt and amused uncertainty on Jayden's face – added with the fact that the snow previously in his hand was gone – made this particular mystery easy to solve. Blake slowly set his still burning cigarette down before standing up…and lunging towards the agent, dragging him down with him into the several feet of snow below. Ignoring the almost violent shivering and whines of the practically naked man underneath him, Blake leaned forward to speak directly into his ear.
"So…you wanna do this again sometime?"

Still smiling slightly from the memory, Carter gave his head a slight shake before hanging it back lazily. Their relationship had certainly changed since then – the aching in his ass was evidence enough of that. At least his question had been answered by relaying the memory over in his head.
Norman had wanted to have sex, and even after it became obvious he wasn't going to be in charge for a change, he had still consented. Well…he let it happen, anyway, Carter mentally corrected with a grin. As to why, Norman had blatantly said he didn't know. Even a control-freak psychologist like him could admit that some feelings, some actions…simply weren't explainable. Analyzing the former had never been his area of expertise, and he had long since come to terms with that. Analyzing latter after they had taken place was not only pointless, but impossible, as they weren't the results of conscious decision making so much as life catching you in the right moment under the right circumstances. One just had to live with the consequences.
Carter felt he could easily do that, even after what had happened. Especially under the newfound realization that despite their upbringing, careers, and basic fundamental viewpoints…they weren't terribly different. If Norman could maintain a level of dignity even after taking it up the ass…Well then, fuck, it couldn't be that hard.
The very idea of telling Norman about his acceptance of the role reversal didn't even occur to him. After all, he hadn't even told him the curiosity to try it existed. The reason why was fairly simple - to the two of them, words were an obstacle. That wasn't to say they couldn't enjoy one another's company or have a decent, meaningful conversation – that much was obvious, as they easily could pass hours together doing jack-shit at his house. But inevitably, their dialogue always ended in a disagreement of some sort that had to be resolved nonverbally; either through a fight, sex, or a messy combination of the two that left them both exhausted yet pleased.
It might not have been the healthiest relationship in the world, but as Carter eyed the freshly wrapped bullet wound on his shoulder before letting his gaze linger next on the dwindled cigarette beneath him, he reminded himself that there was a reason the term was called "fatal attraction".

A/N: Oh, yeah, if you're wondering why Norman didn't just tell the truth about triptocaine withdrawals…Well, A) I kinda prefer the idea of him battling his addiction on his own (not that I don't think it's potentially a very good plot point that'd bring the two together), and B) in previous chapters I had already pretty much established Blake not knowing about triptocaine and Jayden already bringing it somewhat under control.
Anyway, I apologize for how absurdly long this is ._.
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