Two years ago, Andrew was bored. His porn collection was stale, and he was tired of seeing the same dildo-seduction scenes over and over again. Sex is sex and there are only so many variations possible. Many are hot; most are familiar; and all of them have been done before. He knew Andy's tastes ran to the peculiar, and he wanted to know just how peculiar they were, and he was bored so what the fuck, he broke into Andy's room and grabbed a few DVDs. He is a police detective and knows what a trail of evidence is, so he did this professionally and did not leave any clue that he was ever there.
That was two years ago. He now counted on Andy's esoteric bondage-fantasy purchases to supplement Andrew's own, more plebian tastes. He did not do it often, and he was very picky. He did not like the mixed gender ones, which were just freaky. He did not understand the whole "pony" thing at all. And being a police officer, he did not cotton to pedophilia-like fantasies of grown women prancing around in school girl uniforms getting whipped. He liked girls with nice asses getting spanked, and eventually figured out that he also liked girls with large tits wearing ball gags, and he pretty much liked any woman in latex. The men he kind of discounted. Some were very good looking men, who seemed to enjoy being tied up next to very good looking women, and when he thought about that, he figured, who the hell wouldn't?
Of course, this was not a habit he ever let on about. He was careful and never left any evidence of his crimes. Sometimes he went to make a joke that would clearly reference something on one of the videos, but stopped himself short. He did not want his partner to think he was a freak or anything like that. Even though, of course, his partner was a freak himself. Deeply, disturbingly perverted, Andrew had no doubts anymore. He was fine with that as long as Andy did not flaunt it. After all, what was it to him if Andy like to tie women up before he banged 'em?
Nicholas Angel and Danny Butterman would not touch him. At least, not anymore. Danny managed to pin him down one night in the locker room and had both his handcuffs and his dick out when Nicholas Arsewipe walked in and started shouting. Andy acted relieved but he was very, very pissed. Angel might be the top in that relationship, but Danny knew something about pushing a man around and clearly did not get enough of a chance to do so.
Not that Andy really wanted Danny's dick in his face. He just wanted anyone. Correction: he wanted any man. This knowledge was not knew, but acting on it was, and Andy felt that he was like a new toy no one would play with. It was his own curse that being rejected and ignored was as much of a turn on as being rubbed down with baby oil. His only recourse was his porn collection, and the interesting new twists it could take now that Andy Cartwright finally, finally understood what he was.
Danny sat with Liz on a break from his beat. She was working, genuinely working, and cursing, and playing desk-jongg in between phone calls.
"You know, Danny, things may not happen much here in Sandford, but I swear, every other village around here is full of perverts and serial killers."
"Well, actually, Liz, Sandford has a unique history there…"
"I know, Danny! But I'm talking about now. The whole NWA was what, nearly two years ago? Northwest Wapping has a rash of abandoned babies and there are reports out Wiltfordshire of a couple of mysterious bodies turning up at an old farm…and here, cow mutilations." She shook a scrap of paper at him.
"Here?" Danny sat up, shocked at that last.
"No, I mean, there, in Kenfield Manor."
Danny sat back in the chair.
"And Nicholas."
They looked at each other miserably. For all the fabulousness of their three-part relationship, Nicholas was making things difficult. Danny knew that this was something new, starting from a situation he and Nicholas were in a couple of months before with Andy. Liz did not know that, and Danny was not about to tell her. It was wrong to lie, although certainly safer.
But the fact was, Nicholas was turning into a jealous bitch.
Nicholas knew that the only person to assign to the case was Cartwright. He was not pleased about it, because he personally did not think Cartwright was mentally stable enough. While their locker-room experience was sometimes the subject of Nicholas' heated fantasies when he was alone in the shower, it was hardly a psychologically healthy denouement to Andy's issues with his sexuality. It was, in fact, a disturbing moment of awakening, a time when the man was forced to reckon with his own desires and needs, and Nicholas did not believe for an instant that it was over for him.
Neither, unfortunately, did Danny, who was surprisingly aggressive in his manhandling of Andy at the time and who kept finding reasons to 'stay late' at work whenever Andy had extra paperwork to do, which Andy seemed to find a lot to do lately. Nicholas was not stupid, and he was not going to share. He broke up their foreplay more than once and he intended to keep breaking it up until Danny got the message: Danny belonged to Nicholas and Liz, and Andy belonged somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Nicholas shook his head. The fact was, he suspected this case involved a lot more than a petty grifter trying to hide from her pimp in a small town in the middle of nowhere, shoplifting to get food in the pantry. Nicholas was the one to arrest her, and it was clearly a terrifying experience for her, despite a history of being arrested for minor offenses, and he knew instinctively that something else was going on. She would never trust him now, though. He needed to assign a detective to the matter, and the only two in Sandford were the Andes, and the only one of those two who might even pass for gay was Andy Cartwright.
"Nicky, y'aren't making any sense. None." Danny clucked at his lover while they were at dinner. Liz was working late again, or more likely talking on the phone to Geo, so they sat at the Indian food restaurant by themselves. Danny was trying to keep Nicholas' mind on something like work, because when it wasn't, it kept roaming off to parts that made both Danny and Liz miserable. Danny's attempted trysts with Andy and Liz' all-hours obsession with Geo were not helping matters.
"Danny, this woman is terrified, of what I don't know. I do not think it is her pimp."
"Right. An' what has this got to do with benders?"
Nicky cringed, still displeased whenever Danny used the word. Danny did not understand that either, because it was just a word, and they were both benders anyway, Liz or no Liz.
Nicky tapped the table and looked at the ceiling. Finally he leaned forward and spoke very quietly. "Because, Danny, she is a he."
Danny gasped and blinked. "Wot?!" He thought this was marvelous. A cross dresser! Just like Willem DaFoe in Boondock Saints! Only not as cute! He started howling.
"Danny! Stop!" Nicholas said fiercely, red in the face, which Danny thought kind of made him sexy. Then he thought of Nicholas in a dress and nearly fell out of his chair in hysterics.
"Wot?" Andy stood in front of Nicholas' desk, his usual swagger in full array, his eyebrows raised in rebellion.
"You heard me, Detective Constable. This one is yours."
"You're fuhkin' kiddin' me."
"Complete sentences, if you please, Constable." Nicholas tapped the desk with his pen, trying to look severe.
"She's a guy?"
Nicholas nodded, realizing that this was as close to complete sentences as he was going to get for a while.
"What's that got to do with me, In-spec-tor?"
Nicholas' eyes narrowed. "We need someone to gain her confidence."
Andy jerked his head towards the door. "Doris."
"Someone to gain her confidence, Constable, not someone to share make-up tips with, as much as you might enjoy that too."
Andy flushed red but did not say anything. Nicholas knew he was still riding on his role as the top, and while part of him suspected that it was unacceptable to keep riding it, he felt a firm hand was called for here. Nothing else, he reminded himself, needed to get firm at this precise moment.
Andy did his slow-motion blink that always indicated a smart-ass comment was rising out him, and Nicholas slapped his pen onto the desk. Hard. Andy froze.
"Right. This woman – as we will continue to refer to her – knows something, is scared of something, and may be bringing more trouble into town than I care to see. You will be our point of contact with her. You will protect her. You will confide your perversions to her and gain her confidence in return. You will find out everything you can."
Andy breathed heavily, his eyes narrowed, clearly unhappy, flushing even redder at the word 'perversions.'
Nicholas templed his fingers and looked up at him. "And you will do this properly, just as I told you to do it, or I will never fuck you again. Now get out."
Andy spun and walked out. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, frowning, furious at himself and his raging hard-on.
She – he – IT was not unattractive, in a baby dyke kind of way. Andy stood in the middle of her – his – IT's one room flat and as she – he – IT set up a kettle of water for tea.
Andy's sense of relief at being told what to do, of being pushed into this, softened his displeasure at the job itself, but did not eradicate it. He thought Angel was being a twat, that this – person – was just a low-life loser on the run from what was probably a well-deserved beating and there was no reason for Andy to do anything more than verify her – his – IT's story and then have Angel fuck him. Better than nothing. Maybe he'd use his handcuffs...as he thought about it that way, he decided this was turning into one of his best assignments ever.
"Look, I tol' that inspector everythin'."
Andy ran his tongue over his teeth, indicating that he was not convinced.
"S'true, 'kay? I'm just tryin' to keep my face in one piece. S'all."
"Miss Safi, just doin' our duty to check on your safety, then, right? Unless there is more you'd like to share?" He gave her his best eye roll – him – IT – to press for a crack in the story which he did not believe existed. If she was telling the truth, then – he – IT – would stick to the story. That is exactly what Andy expected to happen.
Safi looked at him, worried but tough. Very tough. This was not a Sandford girl, this was a London cross-breed who had deep brown eyes and olive skin and a flat out pretty accent. "So 'e sent you over 'cause you're fookin' queer."
Andy tried not flinch, but he knew he failed.
"'U can tell that bastard that Sara Safi don't fook around, 'kay? Get the fuck out, bender."
Being tough was one thing Andy did not need to pretend. "Scared of a real man, is she? What you scared of?"
"Yer inspector knows. What, this 'ole town full of fookin' benders? Guess I came to the right place afta all."
"Right, right, your pimp lookin' for you. He like you up the ass, does he?" As he said it he realized his plan collapsed while he was not looking. She did not stick to her story, she was looking for a way out of sticking to it. Andy knew first hand that putting someone on the defense was almost always the best way to drive them like a car. He stepped back and looked her up and down. "You been lyin' the whole time."
She glared at him but did not answer.
Relaxed now that he had the situation under control, Andy took out a cigarette.
"No smoking my flat."
He looked at her and lit the cigarette. "Oh, she talks?"
It was at least a month since Andrew's last break in. He was horny and Andy was working late, probably doing all that damn paperwork Angle always fuckin' harped about. He broke in and carefully flipped through the latest purchases, which Andy methodically kept to the front of the box, and stopped cold.
Gay. Porn. Bondage.
He could not bring himself to touch it. He could barely even think it. At first he thought it was a joke Andy was playing on him, that he somehow found out about his stealthy video borrowing and was having him off. If that were the case, though, there was no need to buy six different DVDs of the crap.
Andrew stared at something he tried to pretend did not exist and realized that his closest, best mate whom he had known all his life was completely, mind-fucking insane.
She did not talk much, in fact, but she fixed a cup and tea and did not kick him out. He backed off, let her change the subject. He could wait, now that he knew he was waiting for something. Eventually he walked out, telling her he'd be back the next day, gave her his number for any 'emergencies' and asked if she felt safe. Angel told him too protect her, too. That was part of the task assigned him, and he would do it, whether Safi wanted him to or not.
She just shrugged and closed the door.
Nicholas sat watching Liz and Danny. They were on the couch at Danny's flat, the very tortured and abused couch, watching…something. Another ridiculous movie that they both already knew by heart.
Nicholas felt terrible and could not think about the movie or about his lovers sitting next to him, laughing and happy. He had just committed himself to doing something with Andy for no reason other than the sexually-charged power rush of it, and that, he understood implicitly, was called cheating…and he did not even do anything yet.
This was wrong. Nicholas Angel did not cheat in a relationship and he did not lie to the people he was committed to. At this point, Liz did not even know about the locker-room tryst he and Danny shared with – forced on? – Andy. In the name of Whatever, what next?
Nicholas got up and walked out.
Danny and Liz sat on the couch staring at each other in shock.
"You say something to him?"
"No! You?"
"I don't think so."
They turned to look at the empty spot that moments before was Nicholas.
"What the fuck you want, Arsewipe?"
Nicholas just stared. Andrew Wainwright was possibly drunker than he had ever seen him, and that was saying something.
"Is Andrew here?" He tried to keep it simple.
"I'm right here." Andrew sneered at him.
Nicholas rolled his eyes impatiently. "I meant the other Andrew. Andy. Is he in?"
"No, in fact, he's not."
Nicholas was unprepared for that answer. "Oh. Do…ah…do you know where he is?"
Andrew opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. Weaving slightly, he glared at Nicholas, snorted, and shook his head. "No."
"Okayyyy…could you tell him I stopped by, please. Concerning a case." Nicholas turned to leave.
"Oh? A case? Sure you ain't here to fuck him up the arse, bender?" Andrew cocked his head mockingly.
Nicholas turned back around, slowly, and stared at him. He was trying to judge just how drunk Andrew was, how much he might know, and how he could have found out if so. He laid money on the fact that Andy did not tell him anything. That left Danny. Nicholas really could not believe that, though, which left…no one. He kept staring, trying to get a bead on what he had walked into.
Andrew leaned against the door frame, heavy in his drunk, but his eyes still focused. This was not a crazy alcohol-induced random showdown. Andrew was furious. Nicholas decided that he really needed to know why.
"And if I am?"
Nicholas felt himself flying as Andrew grabbed his jacket and threw him into the house. He was in shock that someone that pissed could still move that fast. They were nearly the same age, and while Nicholas was better trained, Andrew was heavier. Nicholas registered that they were evenly matched as his head hit the wall.
Sobriety crashed down on Andrew the moment Angel fell to the floor. His head hit the wall with the wet sound of a melon being cracked and he went limp, completely unconscious, and maybe even dead. Andrew stared at him for one horrified, confused moment before his training kicked in and he dropped to the floor next to Angel, checking for a pulse.
Andy walked into a disaster. The front room was in disarray, at least by the door, but the real disaster was Nicholas Angel laying unconscious on the floor, bleeding.
"Christ! Nicholas! Nicholas, wake up!" Andy knelt by him, gently taking his head in his hands. There was a major contusion just over his temple but the rest of his face was clear, other than the blood creeping out his nose.
"Don't move 'im, Andy. Head injury." Andrew walked in, holding towels and their small emergency medical kit. He was weaving a bit, but sounded sober.
"I'm callin' emergency."
"No, you won't." Andrew pointed at him and gave the instruction in a low, dangerous voice.
Andy froze, but did not stop thinking. "Head injury, Andrew."
Andrew knelt down and pulled out the ammonia packet. "Going to wake 'im up, eh? Here." He handed Andy a towel. "He'll puke."
There was a moment of shared panic when Angel did not wake up immediately to the ammonia, but the next second he gasped and his eyes snapped open. They were glazed and dilated, and he tried to move around to focus so Andrew put hands on his head and shoulders to stop him. The next second the were rolling him onto his side as he started to vomit.
"Yeah, pukin'." Andrew nodded. Andy stared at him.
"What the fuck happened here, huh?"
Andrew never backed down from a fight. Never, not even when he was dead in the wrong and on the losing side. Andy watched him since they were kids. Andrew was the bully on their street who somehow never got around to beating up the boys weaker than he was like all the other bullies at school did. Andrew possessed honor and a strong sense of tribe, and that made him more fair and more generous than most boys were with that much power. But he was also proud, and wore a chip on his shoulder, and he never backed down. That, if nothing else, was one reason Andy was in love with him.
But Andrew was backing down now.
"Nothin', Andy. Jus' a fuckin' accident, okay? Stop shittin' bricks and help."
Angel was shaking, but done puking, and trying to sit up. "Hey there, Nick, keep still." Andy grabbed his arms, trying to get him to lay down again. Angel was nodding and resisting and not talking. Andy knew that they should get him to the hospital. "Fuck, Andrew, he's not good."
"I fuckin' see that." Andrew stood up, thinking.
"What you fuckin' see is bad. Call the fuckin' ambulance." Andy was still pushing against Angel, who was determined to get up and kept moving his arms around so that Andy could not get a solid purchase on them. Finally Andy let Angel sit up enough so that he could move in behind him and wrap his arms around his torso. He braced his legs to either side of Angel's body and did his best to keep the man immobilized, and nearly laughed at the irony of it. "Nicholas, comon' just lean back. I've got you. Jus' relax, damnit." He talked quietly into Angel's ear and finally something registered, as he felt muscles unclench and Angel practically dissolved against him. Andy breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to Andrew, hoping to see him on the phone to 999.
Instead he saw him flushed red, shaking in fury. Andy just stared, and realized for the first time since he walked in the door how drunk-ass-pissed Andrew really was.
"That how you like to fuck him, is it? Nicholarse your doggie boy?"
Andy's heart, soul, and stomach dropped to ground, but his first thought was to run for his life. He couldn't, of course, because of the injured man in his arms. He tried to keep a locked face as he stared at Andrew, understanding very clearly the 'accident' that Angel suffered, and how much danger the both of them were in now.
"Get out, Andrew. Just get out, mate, and cool off." He said it coolly, calmly, firmly, and in fear of his life. Andrew never followed directions but even at his worst, he could be reasoned with. Usually.
Andrew looked back and forth between Andy and Angel.
"Fuck, Andrew, you can beat the shit out of me later! Get out!"
Andrew tilted, moved, walked to the door and left. Andy fumbled with both his jacket and Angel, pulling out his cell phone to call for help.
Danny was stark white in terror, with Liz behind him, holding him by the shoulders. He heard the doctors say it was a minor concussion, that everything would be alright, and they just needed to keep him under observation for 24 hours…but it did not change the fact that Nicky was lying in the hospital, delirious, unfocused, and injured. It was Danny's next-to-worst nightmare.
"Christ why was he at the Andes?" Liz shook her head. Danny heard her concern, but his thoughts derailed. He knew why: Nick went to warn Andy off of him. Probably even threatened him. Nick would never threaten Danny, but he would not worry about threatening Andy. Based on Andy's incoherent explanation in the ER of what happened, Danny was uncertain of what happened, but he knew why.
He grabbed Liz and dragged her out to the hallway.
"Danny! What…I'd like to stay in there with him…"
"No, Liz. You got to listen to me. Sommut happened, a while back. Well, not long back; couple a'months? Anyway…Liz, something with Andy and Nicky and me…" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her lightly.
"Danny! Calm down. It'll be alright."
"No, Lizzie. It won't."
Andy left the hospital as soon as Danny showed up, trailing Liz. He did not know where Andrew was, and he did not want to find out. If Andrew decided to look for him, there were not a lot of places to hide. But there was one.
"Wot the fuck you want now? You horny, then?"
"Shut up." Andy pushed Safi into her flat and shut the door behind him.
Andy did not show up for work the next day, and Andrew was not surprised. The entire department was in an uproar about Angel, Doris was crying, and everyone in the whole fucking village was coming by, in person, to "inquire about the Inspector's health." Andrew wanted to spit.
The story, as it stood, was that Andy and Angel had a fight, and Angel took a bad spill against some furniture or something in the process. No one knew what the fight was about, and there was a lot of concern from Tony and the Turners about a superior officer attacking his personnel, or the personnel attacking his superior officer, and whether that would bring Internal Affairs down on everyone.
Andrew felt a twinge of guilt about Andy taking the fall for this, but it did not mitigate his desire to beat the crap out of him. What he needed to do, though, was find him first. He went over and began to trash Andy's desk.
"I don't need a fuckin' blow job, thank you." Andy sat on Safi's couch, which was her mattress, smoking.
"Y'jus' look fookin' tense."
"I am." He stayed up all night, sitting in one of her old, lousy dinette chairs, smoking. Her flat was now layered in a haze of smoke, but she did not complain. After he shoved his way in, she went very complacent, just handing him a beer and then flopping back down on her bed, falling asleep quickly. She apparently was used to men showing up at all hours for all sorts of reasons, and was completely unconcerned and uninterested in his story. That much, he liked about her.
He moved to the bed when she got up, but he was still unable to fall asleep. She offered the blow job in a mechanical way, and he flicked his ashes at her as he refused.
"So okay, Detective, why you here then?"
He looked at her, blinking slowly, taking her in. She was sitting backwards on one of the dinette chairs, her chin resting on the back of it. Her short, choppy hair cut was still wet from the shower she just took, and he imagined that she probably smelled very nice right about now…he closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall.
"Got a friend lookin' for me." He kept his head back and his eyes closed while he said it.
"Eh, so I ain't the only one wit' a pimp."
His head snapped up. "I ain't no city whore."
"Country one, maybe. You belong to the Inspector, then? You 'is boi?"
Andy opened his mouth to put her in her place, but realized that yes, he was in fact Angel's 'boi.' And there was nothing to say to that.
"So why you here, Safi? Since we bein' all honest and all." He cocked his head.
She bounced her chin on her hand and muttered to herself before answering. "I ain't no whore. Not my gig. I do…other stuff, okay? Got in with something…not big. Not that big, eh? But fuck-big-enough and I ran."
"People pay you to do it, you're a whore." Andy put out his cigarette and pulled up his legs, crossing his ankles.
"You can say that 'bout the prime minister."
Andy laughed, and she raised her head. "You're pretty. I see why the Inspector likes ya'."
Andy was not used to being called 'pretty' by anyone but his sister, so he just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
"Oi, that's it! You got a man on the side? The Inspector don't like sharin'?" Safi laughed.
"Oh he likes sharin' his boys, Safi. You should try 'im." He smiled, starting to enjoy the banter, talking shit like he always did with…Andrew.
Safi laughed too. "I'm a bit too pretty, no shit?"
"You got the equipment he likes to use."
She leaned back, laughing. There was a line of her jaw that was just boy enough to make her look androgynous, and Andy discovered that he liked that line.
Andrew knew how Andy thought. He taught Andy to think, back in the day, when they were kids scrapping about the village and Andy followed him around like an underfed puppy. He taught Andy a lot. So when he found the case file, he knew exactly where to find the damn dog. He did not read the full report, he just took down the address and walked out of the building.
She was sitting on the bed with him, across from him, relaxed and listening intently to the story of the take down of the NWA and the shoot out at the Sommerfield Supermarket when the door crashed open and Andrew barreled in. He looked at them and rolled his eyes as Andy jumped up and off the mattress. They squared off, but Andrew's eyes drifted over to where Safi was sitting, frozen in place.
"So who's this cunt?" Andrew slouched towards Safi, sneering. "Not really your 'type', is she?"
"Leave 'er alone, Andrew. This is us, mate. Just us."
He could tell that Andrew was grinding his teeth. "There ain't no 'us.'"
"Okayyyy, okay." Andy had his hands out.
"You know why I'm here?" Andrew pulled back a bit, put his hands in his pockets and gave Andy a sardonic, evil smile.
"To beat the crap out of me? Yeahhhh, I know." Andy lowered his hands and looked up to the ceiling.
"Yeah."
"Hey." Safi walked up and Andrew swiveled his head towards her, ready for anything but what he got. Her – his – right hook sent him sailing backwards and he collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor in shock. Andy's jaw dropped. She looked at him and held up a small lead-filled sap. "You don't get t'bein' a fookin' pansy wit'out a few hard fights in between."
Andrew was hardly finished, though, and was crawling up. Safi turned to Andy. "Get out, Pretty, else 'e'll rip you apart, eh? Go."
Andy paused, looking at her, worried. This was not much of a way of protecting her.
"'Ehy, I can handle 'im. 'E won't hit me, not when he's got it in for you. Go!"
Andy bolted.
"You fuckin' cunt, you're lucky…"
"Shut uuuuup. 'Ere, I cut you lip. Com'ere."
Andrew stood up and stared at the girl. She was small and cute and had a hell of a right hook, and apparently a crush on Andy. He shook his head.
"Don't be a pussy. Com'ere, let me clean you up." She waved him over to the sink, where she was standing, soaking a towel. Instinctively, he walked over.
"You're not 'is type." He said smugly when she finally released his jaw. He was sitting on one of her battered chairs while she worked around him.
"You think that, then you don' know 'im much."
"I know 'im well enough to know he's a fuckin' bender."
She stopped, surprised. "Not my type, then?"
"Obviously."
She smiled. "Maybe you are."
Andrew suddenly had a much better idea for working the kinks out of his system.
Andy really had no where else to go. He sat at the hospital with Danny, who was not talking to him, watching Angel flutter in and out of consciousness as nurses kept prodding. Liz, apparently, was thrown out by security for breaking furniture in the waiting room.
"Oh fuuuck, yeah, like that…" Andrew was on his back on Safi's bed, breaking god only knows how many regulations, getting one of the best blow jobs of his life. Her mouth turned out to be one of the better discoveries he ever made; her kisses about sucked his tongue out and she was spending more time giving him head than most girls allowed for fucking. She was a bit shy on the touchy-feely, but he knew some girls were like that below the belt. That was fine, because right now it was a fair trade. He lightly ran his hands through her hair as she bobbed between his legs. As tough as he knew his reputation was, he actually preferred the lighter touches during sex, and he was a huge fan of oral. Either way. Right now was a good way for him.
He felt himself rising up and he pulled in a lungful of air. "Baby, I'm comin', if you wanna' pull back…" He looked down at her and she looked back and winked, swallowing him whole, sucking him dry, and he flat out came like a rocket in her mouth.
Danny's whole idea of what happened was dead wrong, and Andy was in no mind to correct him. If he wanted to think that Nicholas was there to warn Andy off of him, fine; Andy suspected he showed up for something else entirely. He sat watching Nicholas, worrying, and realizing that he genuinely cared for the twat. Not the same way he did for Andrew, whom he loved and who right now scared the shit out of him, but yes: part of him cared for Nicholas.
Nicholas Angel. A bender from London who was seriously in love with two people, neither of whom was Andy. And the man Andy wanted even more than he wanted Nicholas right then was…gone. It did not matter if Andrew beat him senseless or not. Their friendship was over, and Andy was certain they could not even work in the same building any more. Andrew was the man Andy really wanted and needed since he was a boy, the man who protected him at school and helped him join the force…service…and who ensnared Shirley Haggerty into taking his virginity when he was too shy to even get a date. Andrew Wainwright. Straight. Vanilla. And out for blood.
When Andy finally came home, he looked exhausted. Andrew watched him walk in, and watched as he stopped dead in front of him. He was on the couch, smoking, waiting. Safi certainly worked the kinks out in all the best ways, and he did not feel the ball-busting red wall of blood pressure in his veins anymore, but there was still a score to settle with his 'mate.'
Andy took it, knowing what would happen once he walked in the door. He hoped that Andrew cooled down some during the last 24 hours, but he was not kidding himself about what he was in for. He wanted it, even; some kind of release from everything that was going on and the lies he was in the middle of and his love for Andrew and his desire for Nicholas and…everything. This was Andrew handing back the pain that was eating him right now, all the anger and betrayal he felt about their friendship, and Andy was glad to take it – he'd take anything, from Andrew.
Andy had seen him like this before, a long time ago, beating the crap out of a mutual friend who slept with a girl Andrew genuinely liked at the time. Andrew was good at this; Andrew was strong; but Andrew still cared enough for him that he would not leave marks or damage him too much.
During a break in the blows, he sat on his knees on the floor, curled into himself, shaking, trying not to think of this as foreplay. He looked up at Andrew, who stood over him, and watched as he took his shirt off. It was habit with him to strip down to his undershirt when they were at home and now he did it unconsciously, throwing it over the back of the couch, and Andy tried to curl up even more. If Andrew even suspected he had a hard on, he might stop being so considerate with the hits, or god forbid start kicking.
Their eyes met, and he realized it did not matter. Andrew could read him, knew him better than most of his own family did, and understood exactly what the look in Andy's eyes said: love, lust, and desire. For Andrew.
Andy closed his eyes before the first kick landed.
The next day, Nicholas' life was in complete and utter, collapse. Danny told Liz about their having sex with Andy, and she about tore the hospital apart before swearing on someone's grave that she would never have anything to do with either one of them again. And just when it could not get any worse, Nicholas finally told Danny what really happened that night, as far back as he could remember, anyway, and why he went to see Andy.
"You was gonna do 'im?"
"No, no I wasn't. That's the point, Danny, I was going over there to tell him I was NOT going to do that. And then I was going to come back and tell you that, and tell Liz everything…"
They were in Nicholas' bedroom at his cottage. The doctors insisted that he stay off from work for five days and, to be honest, he really did feel like crap. He was sitting up in bed, Danny near him.
"Glad you didn't, then. Liz would have wrecked my flat." Danny said thoughtfully. "But Nick, you always stopped me. If that's what you wanted, we could have just…" Danny stopped, unhappy, and Nicholas saw what was coming next. "You weren't going to tell me, were you?"
"No."
Danny stood up and walked over to the window.
"But that was wrong of me, Danny. That's when I knew I had to call it off. Please understand. I was not going to go through with it."
"You sure?"
"What?"
"Well, endin' up at Andy's place…anything coulda' happened."
"What happened is that Andrew nearly killed me."
"And why was that?"
"I honestly do not fucking know. I don't remember that much." Nicholas ground his teeth, which only made his head hurt again.
Danny looked out the window, and his look was growing darker. "Maybe 'cause he's jealous of you."
"That…that is just incredible. No, Danny, I don't think I've ever met a straighter man outside of a skinhead bar. No."
"Maybe."
"No!"
"You know, Nicholas…I think I understand how Liz feels about us. Why she won't even talk to me."
Nicholas caught his breath, which made him a bit light-headed.
"I didn't think about it much, before. I shoulda'. It was wrong of us to lie to her, and it was wrong of you to plan on lyin' to me."
"But…I wasn't…"
"You were."
"It isn't as if I haven't caught you on Andy yourself, lately." Nicholas was starting to get mad, but he was not sure if he was mad at himself or at Danny.
"Yeah but that was always…I mean, you were around. I knew you'd find us. I just always thought we'd be far enough along that you'd…dunno…join in. I'd never do anything without you, Nicholas. Not on purpose."
"Danny…"
"But that was still wrong, wasn'it? And we were still lyin' to Liz." Danny put his hands on his hips, and glared out of the window, and Nicholas knew he desperately needed to say something but he had no idea what. "I have to go, Nicholas. I'll check on you later." Danny walked out without looking him in the eyes.
He did not come back that day. Or the next, and it was just as well, because by that point, Andy showed up with his suitcase and a black eye and nowhere else to go.
Nicholas stepped over Andy. It was not something they arranged before hand, and it reminded Nicholas of scenes out of the The Marketplace, but Andy slept on the floor next to his bed. As far as Nicholas was concerned, his bed was for him, or Danny, or Liz, and preferably all three; Andy was not welcomed there. He went to bed the first night with Andy on the couch up front, and woke up with Andy on the floor. He never said anything about it, and Andy never slept anywhere else.
The situation at work was far more stressful than Andy on his bedroom floor. His first day back, both Andrew and Andy turned in resignations; Nicholas promptly refused both of them; and Andrew called the game by walking out and not coming back. Nicholas kept him on the roster anyway.
Andy kept track of Safi, reporting to Nicholas about her every few days. She sometimes invited him in and sometimes shut the door in his face, but either way, Andy kept checking and it was enough for Nicholas, for whom Safi became background noise.
Danny talked to him officially and politely, and it killed him inside every time. He tried to talk to him privately a few times and invited him to the pub but Danny just shook his head. Liz was much more forthright, throwing a stapler at him when he walked into her office. No one was happy, and certainly, no one was less happy with Nicholas Angel than Nicholas Angel himself.
But he also had to assuage everyone that his head injury was just an accident, that he was not fighting with either of the Andes, and no, he had no idea why Andrew was not showing up for work. No one believed a word he said, but barring Andy not saying anything else either, the story stood as the official history of the incident. The gossip raged around him like a cyclone, and he knew it, but he was left with the option of taking out an advert in the paper stating "I'm a bender and I had sex with half my staff and I like Threesomes and I like it rough" or just ignoring the rumor mill.
Otherwise, he reminded himself painfully, life in Sandford continued on as it always did.
Andy, for his part, did not even try for Nicholas' bed. He started out on the couch the first night, but it was too cold in the front, and he retreated to Nicholas' room in the dead of night for the warmth of the heater there and the comforting sound of hearing someone nearby. Somehow, being on the floor and being stepped over and generally being ignored was balm to his soul. He could pretend that he did not even exist.
After a few days, Angel sat down across from him at the kitchen table while Andy fixed himself a ham sandwich. He bought his own food and fixed it for himself, if only because Angel's idea of food was fruits and vegetables and brown rice.
"You can stay as long as you need to."
Andy looked up with his eyes, but kept fixing his sandwich. "But?"
"No 'but,' just letting you know."
"Not expecting 'em back." He stated it rather than asked.
"Not really."
Andy nodded and put down the sandwich. Nicholas was looking out the window, his lips pursed.
"You mind me on the floor?" He asked, trying to sound as if he did not care.
"No." Nicholas' gaze did not move. He looked incredibly tense, as if he were fighting something out, and his jaw was clinching. Andy sat back in the chair.
"Then what?"
"You. On the floor."
"So it does bother you, then."
Nicholas' gaze turned on him and Andy's heart stopped.
"No, Andrew. I mean now. On the floor. Now." He picked up Andy's plate and set it down at his feet.
Fucking Andy was his last break with everything: Danny, Liz, reality. It was also his revenge, more on himself than anything, but if Andy was willing to be his whipping boy, then god damnit Nicholas was going to whip. He went for broke: he made him eat sitting on the floor, and then made him crawl to the hallway and sit there alone while Nicholas fixed his own dinner. He refused to let him get undressed and made him sit on his knees outside the shower when Nicholas bathed, letting him see him naked but not allowing him to touch. Andy did not even question it.
Finally, Nicholas was in his sweatpants in the bedroom with Andy sitting Indian-style on his blankets, looking up at him, trying to look blank and tough but mainly looking confused. Nicholas leaned against his dresser and crossed his arms.
"Get undressed."
Andy stood up and began to take off his clothes. Nicholas stepped over and slapped him. They stood, facing each other, Andy fighting back fear and surprise and anger.
"I did not say, stand up," Nicholas growled and slapped him again. Andy finally sunk back down the floor, in shock. Slowly he peeled off his clothes, unable to look at Nicholas when he pulled off his pants to reveal his erection.
Nicholas was actually relieved. He was playing this hard and he knew Andy liked to be strong-armed but being hit physically is different from being beat down psychologically. Part of him wanted to break Andy into pieces, but he did not want to destroy him.
"On your knees, and put your forehead on the floor."
Andy glared at him. Nicholas bent over, grabbed his hair, and yanked. As Andy gasped for air Nicholas put his mouth to Andy's ear and began stroking skin with his tongue. He kept the grip on Andy's hair tight while he lapped delicately at his ear, breathing hot air on the sensitive nerves there, trailing his tongue down, around, and into Andy. He ran his other hand down his back and brushed over his ass, running his fingers in light circles until he reached his ball sack. He still kept it light as he sucked on parts of Andy's ear and stroked his scrotum, playing with the hair he found in that area until Andy whined. Nicholas dropped to one knee next to Andy and pressed against him, still light in touch and presence. Then he grabbed Andy's balls and squeezed.
"Whufff!" Andy head went down in pain and Nicholas released his grip.
"Unless I judged Andrew wrong, he's never fucked you in the ass, has he?" Nicholas taunted as Andy let out a small, whimpering moan. "I'm willing to guess that you think about him a lot when you masturbate, don't you? Andy?"
Andy nodded.
"Fine, then. Let us say that your dick belongs to him, and your ass belongs to me."
It was his first time and it was excruciatingly painful, despite Nicholas' liberal use of lube and his generally empathetic efforts. Still, at some point, as his head was pressing into his blankets and his fists balling the material into knotted wads, he felt something like relief. Someone wanted him, needed him, and was using him. It was not right; the whole situation was completely fucked up for everyone involved and the sensible side of Andy knew it, but he needed this. When Nicholas first pushed into him Andy felt the rush of pain run him over but it was a delirious feeling that pulled him outside of himself, and he remembered being on the locker room floor with Danny holding him down and taunting him and coming on his face and it was sublimely erotic.
As Nicholas' pace picked up against and in him, Andy forced himself to pull back, to understand what was going on. Nicholas was furious, angry at everyone and everything and himself and his hold on Andy's hips was so fierce his nails were drawing blood, but Andy knew it was his role to take it. Like he took it from Andrew, he was taking this from Nicholas, and he could be loved for that.
He pushed down with his knees against the floor to ground himself as Nicholas plowed into his ass, slamming his body against Andy with more power than anyone imagined such a slight man might have. But he was strong, and Andy knew how strong he was, and he clinched his legs trying to keep his balance. Finally Nicholas was overcome and let go and yelled out nothing as he dug his way into Andy's soul, coming inside of him, and clawing his back as he tried to hold on while his thrusts turned aggressive and completely out of control.
When he was done he pulled out and pushed down on Andy's back so that he was crouching on his legs, Nicholas on hands and knees over him, panting. He felt Nicholas kiss the back of his neck.
"Stay here, Andrew. Stay still." Nicholas said and rested his forehead on the back of Andy's head.
Andy did not move.
Nicholas was in bed that night alone, with Andy on the floor, blissfully asleep. It was a cathartic moment for both of them, for nearly the same reason: they were in love with people who rejected them, who completely turned their backs on them, for reasons that were righteous or at least genuine. Now all Nicholas and Andy had left were each other.
He rolled onto his side and clutched his pillow to his face and refused to cry.
Andrew went home. His parents were working-class retirees who spent a lot of time drinking and playing poker, and did not mind one of their children whose names they sometimes mixed up coming in and crashing for a few days. With the oldest, they were used to it; with the middle, they put up with it; with Andrew, they ignored it for his sake as much as their own. He only walked through that door when something bad was happening, and his father remembered enough of his own temper at that age to tell his wife to just stay out of the boy's way.
He liked being home and he was a good poker player so for a couple of days it was relaxing. Then word circled through the mill that one of the Andrews nearly killed that Nice Inspector Angel From London and that Young Wainwright quit his job. His father was not quite so understanding of that, and after huge argument, Andrew stormed out and went back to his flat.
Sitting alone in the dark living room, smoking a cigarette and listening to The Police, he considered his options. He could go back to his job, and he was sure Angel would let him, despite everything. Something told him that Angel knew, intimately, what was going on and would not ever hold it against him, despite the head injury. Angel could be counted on for a fucked up sense of fairness like that. Going back would mean working across from Andy again, though, and the very idea broke his heart.
He stopped at that thought. To walk away from a life long friendship, from someone who was closer to him than any member of his own family, a man who he knew as boy and man and friend and colleague, was too much like breaking up. Too much. Andrew leaned forward and bowed his head. He did not know why it bothered him so much that Andy was a bender, and a perverted one at that; it was wrong and fucked up but Andy was still Andy, after all. Still…something told him there was more to Angel's visit that night than professional concern about a case. He saw it in Angel's face when he called him out. And that, more than anything, made it impossible for him to walk back into that building without trying to kill someone. Why he felt that way, he decided not to explore. It was just the way it was.
He knew he could get hired on at Joe Burnett's farm for the rest of the harvest season, just like when he was in school. It would suck but pay the rent until he figured out what to do next with his life. He tried not to think about the fact that transferring out of Sandford was the only possible solution that did not involve becoming indigent.
Andy's visits to Safi's were irregular and short. Whatever her story was, she was keeping it close to the vest. She asked about his black eye, wondering if it came from Andrew, and he told her it did, but not how or why. One day, finally, she told him to sit down on the bed. He did, promptly, and she giggled.
"You take orders good."
He tried to act nonchalant, but he felt himself blush.
"You take orders from me, eh?"
"No. Just accepting an invitation." He adjusted himself into a closed, nearly defensive position.
"Got no need to get all tight ass, Pretty." She sniffed unhappily and sat down across from him.
"You the one holding out."
"I ain't seen your man lately."
"Wot?" Andy wondered why she would bring up Angel all of a sudden.
"You two used to be tight. Now he kick you up, kick you out, and just…what?"
Andy registered with surprise that she was talking about Andrew. "Not mine, not like that."
She frowned and a dark look passed over her face. "Sure he wrong about you Pretty, but a man don't get that wound up 'xcept over property."
"What the fuhk are you talking about?"
She shrugged.
"So you gonna tell me why you're here?"
"I told you that a long time ago, Pretty."
"You're lyin'."
"Maybe I'm here for you." She moved forward into a crawl and crept up on him. He was not opposed to the whole idea, but then he'd have to tell Nicholas, and christ that was a very bad idea. He pushed her back, and sucked in his breath at the look she gave him. It was hatred, some kind of deep animosity, and it was spooky. He drew up to face her down. She fell back to her original position and shrugged again, her face blank.
He got up. "You need protection, call." He walked out without looking back.
Nicholas was soon into a routine; not a routine he ever in his life expected, but then again, that summed up his entire experience in Sandford. He left notes on Andy's blankets or his desk telling him what he expected that day, whether it was work to be done around the house or the station or more personal requests, such as wearing a particular shirt to work or not wearing anything when Nicholas got home. He did not get off much on it, overall, but it was very calming to him to have that much control over something in his life. And the sex was not quite meaningless; they never kissed on the lips but with practice Andy was getting a lot better at oral. He gave him the standing order to get himself off whenever he wanted, once he discovered that Andy was not doing any such thing at all. Finally, one night, Andy rebelled. Or something like that.
"Just fucking do something!"
Nicholas sighed and put the paper aside. Reading it was about the only way he kept up with Liz at all, these days. Andrew was sitting on the floor, not next to him, but not far off, his legs crossed and his arms crossed and generally looking crossed.
"I'm your fucking bitch and you won't touch me."
"I touch you a lot, Andy." Nicholas shook his head.
Andy glared.
"Andrew, I'm not in love with you, and I'm not going to make love to you. I thought we understood that."
"I'm not…" Andy stopped and looked at the wall. "Fuck all, Nick. I'm only human. I turned down Safi for you. And I could have used that." He spoke quietly, and honestly, and Nicholas was caught off guard. Heart-to-heart talks were not much in their repertoire. Nicholas leaned back in his chair and studied Andy.
"What do you want?"
Andy looked surprised to be asked.
"Do you even know, Andrew?"
Andy did not respond.
"Come to bed." Nicholas got up and went to his bedroom. He striped down and got into bed, and soon Andy was standing in the doorway. He just stared at him, his usual look of disdain and rebellion on his face.
"So what's this?"
"Get undressed and get in bed."
Andy did and laid next to him, flat on his back, his arms crossed. Nicholas rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. Andy stared straight up at the ceiling.
"Andy, I'm not Andrew."
Andy nodded. Nicholas sighed and pulled the sheet back on Andy, leaving him naked on the bed. Nicholas sat up and rubbed his face, then rolled on top of Andy, pushing his arms aside.
"We've been here before."
Andy nodded, and Nicholas rolled his head down to kiss his chest. Andy sucked in air and wrapped his arms around Nicholas.
"God, Andrew…I need this too…" Nicholas understood that fact only as he said it, running his kisses up Andy's neck. Their bodies were hot and reacted naturally, and both of them came later that night pressed together, crying out, hands everywhere, covered in sweat, and thinking of other men in their arms.
Andy was not comfortable in Nicholas' bed and kept to the floor whenever they were done. Nicholas did not seem happy about that, but on this one aspect of their life together, he did not do what Nicholas asked, and Nicholas accepted that begrudgingly.
He still remembered Safi's look that day she hit on him, and it still bothered him. He started tracking further into her recent movements, and did not find anything in particular, except that what she told him about her trip out of London and into Gloucester did not match the records he found for her. Dates were off, locations were wrong, and it was clear to him that nearly everything she said was a lie. What he could not figure out was why; she did not have much of a record, just shoplifting and petty theft, and sometimes she seemed to disappear off the map completely. It was not the trail of someone on the run, particularly, and that is what bugged him. He just could not pin it down, though, so he did not bother Angel with it.
Through mutual friends he found out that Andrew was working at Burnett's farm. Sometimes Andy thought to try to visit him, or something…but he knew better. Somehow Nicholas kept Andrew on the roster as "on leave," and everyone knew that for once, Angel was busting the rule book all to hell. They completely supported him, and Andy would forge Andrew's signature as long as he was told to do so.
Andrew came home covered in sweat and grime and dirt and it felt great. It reminded him of simpler days and the hard labor was very nearly an exorcism. He stopped by Sommerfield every night on his way home to buy cigarettes and something for dinner. He did not go to the pub and he did not talk to many people and he avoided everyone at the department, even when they went out of their way to try and drop by for a 'visit.' He found out that it was common knowledge that he was actually the one to send Angel to the hospital (although no could explain how they knew that) and that Andy was living with Angel as a result. The reputation of "The Andes" kept the gossip from getting too ribald, but his mother told him (when his father was not around to hear her on the phone) that some folks were saying 'peculiar things' about it.
One day he came back to his flat and as he sat in his car, gathering his stuff and sorting his keys, he saw someone walk up to the window, which was rolled down. He always kept the windows down, preferring to smoke into the wind. As he turned his head, he registered that it was Safi, and he smiled, thinking of getting some action later. She smiled back and right then his defenses went up at the look in her eyes and the realization that he never told her where he lived. His world went black.
"Miss me?"
"Safi? Wot goin' on? You okay?" Andy sat at his desk, confused by the call. Safi did not sound like she was in danger. She sounded…delighted.
"I got sumtin' you want."
"No, you don't, Safi. We done this. Not happening."
He heard Safi laugh. "It gonna happen, Pretty. Just the way I like. Come meet me."
Andy sighed. "No."
"Come over." She hung up.
Andy stuck his head into Angel's office to let him know something odd was up with Safi. Angel shrugged and reminded him to check in regularly.
Andrew woke up in a barn, in excruciating pain. His neck felt like it was hit with a cricket bat, and his head was not much better. Worse by far was that he was lying on an old blanket, naked, roped and staked to the ground like skin being tanned. He was alone, and it was late in the afternoon, and he heard rats crawling over the rafters above him.
Andy pulled up to the parking lot. Safi was there and walked up to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. As she got in, he rolled his eyes.
"Safi, wot you think…" His voice trailed off. She was holding a compact semi-automatic gun low at waist level, and it was pointed directly at him.
"I got your man, Pretty. And if don' do wot I say, and I got to shoot you, he'll die out where I hid 'im. He ain't gonna be found, and he ain't got no one but you comin' for 'im." She smiled and Andy's blood turned to ice in his veins.
Andrew heard the car and did not know whether to be glad or not. He was unimaginably cold and figured he was staked out now for at least two hours. The car pulled into the barn and he realized that things were not good when he heard Safi's voice telling someone to get undressed.
Andy woke up on top of Andrew. He remembered Safi telling him to get undressed, and lie down on the ground. He figured about then that he could try for her, and he did, but he discovered her secret weapon the hard way: a handheld taser that she slapped against his neck. The pain was unbelievable and he went limp, and then she hit him with the same sap that she used against Andrew that night so long ago, when she was saving Andy's ass. Now, the tables were turned.
She tied Andrew facing up, his legs tied together and his arms over his head, so he was one long line on the ground. There were a couple of straps over his chest and thighs just to keep him stationary, from rolling around or moving at all, and he was essentially staked to the ground as efficiently as if he were a tent. Andy she arranged face down, spread eagle. Her knots were effective. He looked down at Andrew and saw pure anger and frustration.
"You alright?" He asked, just to check in, to see what the status was.
"Doin' good, Andy. Just peachy." Andrew snarled, eyebrows high and the sarcasm thick in his voice.
"Shut it." Safi brought the belt down on his back and Andy yelled out in pain. Andrew froze under him.
"This is my game, gents. All mine. I been waitin' on you, Pretty. I like your face. I'll not be messin' up your face." She stood up and wailed on his back and he screamed as blood sprang up out of the fresh wound. "Jus' relax. I'm goin' easy to start with." She walked off. Andy rested his head against Andrew's fluttering chest, gasping for air through the pain, assuming that they were much worse than dead.
Andy never checked in. Nicholas stood in front of one of the Turners and tapped the counter. Danny walked up behind him.
"Not seen him since he left, Inspector."
It raked his nerves the way Danny was calling him 'Inspector' now, but he there was nothing he could do about it.
"Want me to go by…" Danny stopped. He was about to offer to go by the Andes' flat, but it was common knowledge now that Andy would not be found there. Danny bit his lower lip and looked away. Nicholas rolled his eyes in anger.
"No. I'll go by…my place. I want you to go by Safi's place. That is where he said he was going, so that is where you will look for him first. Radio in as soon as you get there." Nicholas wrote out the address from the case file in his hand, and gave it to Danny. "Take Doris with you. Tony, you're riding with me."
Nicholas registered that Danny was looking at him, shock on his face, and that was the first time he realized that despite it all, Danny still considered them partners. And now Nicholas just screwed that up, too.
Andrew felt Andy's naked, sweating body against him and he rebelled at the thought, but that particular reaction was completely subsumed by his hatred for the bitch who was making Andy scream in pain. She was working her way around his body with the belt, and she was very effective, and she was enjoying it. But he knew there was something in her that was holding back, and when the idea clicked in his brain it made far too much sense: she was in it for the blood. She was going to kill them both.
There was no trace of him. Danny asked around and no one saw Andy's car at the apartments. There was no answer at Safi's place and he did not have a warrant to enter, so he went back out to radio Nicholas – Inspector Angel – with the news.
"Ni—Inspector, I think I'm going to go by the Andes…Andrew's flat."
"You think he might be there, Danny?" Nicholas' voice on the radio was flat and professional.
"Well he ain't here, and he ain't at your place, and he ain't at the station. Might as well verify that he ain't there neither."
"Not there either." Nicholas automatically corrected him, and Danny just stared at the radio.
Andy threw up right onto Andrew, his body bucking and twisting as it rebelled against the pain. Safi stopped and poured a bucket of cold water over them, then dried them off, softly and with a caressing touch. Andrew could feel Andy's fever-wracked body and knew that if she kept going, he was going to go into shock soon. She knew it too.
"I'm savin' em. Don't worry. We not there yet." She winked at Andrew and wrapped them both up in blankets to ward off the cold as she went to drink a beer and eat some cheese she apparently stashed there earlier. Andrew's mind registered that this was something she planned out thoroughly, and he wondered how long she spied on his very regular, predictable movements before she finally walked up that afternoon and tased him unconscious in his own damn car.
"Strangest thing, Danny. Saw that girl walk up and it looked like she was pushing Young Wainwright over before she drove the car off. Just natural as you please. I know that boy likes his lady friends but usually they don't drive off with 'im." Mr. Davis laughed and squinted at Danny, who was feverishly taking notes in his notebook, writing right over the top of his doodles in his hurry.
"Anything else, Mr. Davis?" Danny asked, not looking up from his scrawl.
"Well I tell you, I been seeing her around a lot, but never knew she was a, er, 'friend' of the boys. She just show up sometimes, like…well, Danny, I hate to say som'tin so odd, but I swear, it was like she was spying on the house."
Andy tried breathing and found out that he could still do that. He was relieved; the pain was mind-numbing but the sharpness of it died off when the attack stopped. He knew a few of her strokes drew blood, but mostly, he expected that he was slowly turning black and blue from head to toe. He tried breathing again and smelled…Andrew. He opened his eyes and discovered that Andrew was looking back, and he looked angry. But he was warm. Andy sighed and pressed his face into Andrew's neck.
"Don't fuckin' do that." Andrew growled but Andy did not move. Just the tone of voice was turning him on, of all impossible things, here and now. He couldn't stop, his brain surging with endorphins and confusion and fear…he felt disoriented, and lost…but then there was Andrew.
"Nice." Safi laughed threw back the blankets and rubbed his ass with his own belt.
"Fuck!" Andrew was yelling, furious, and Andy could not do anything more than press himself harder into him. He felt Andrew tugging at his bonds, desperate to stop Andy, to stop everything. Safi was laughing again.
"See, Pretty? I got you your man at last." She tapped his ass lightly with the belt and his skin was so sensitive and raw and bruised that it sent a shudder through his whole body, and he moaned into Andrew's neck. Andrew tried to use his chin to buck Andy off of him.
Safi reached down and started massaging his ball sack. It was gentle and erotic and he reached out and bit one of the straps running across Andrew's chest, just to bite something, to take his mind off what Safi was doing, knowing that she was trying to fuck with Andrew's mind more than his own body. He got that much of her, at least. Mind and body were not on the same page, however, and he felt the erection grow softly at first and then hard and firm under Safi's attentions. He gasped as she reached under and shoved his cock to rest between him and Andrew and could not, for the sake of soul, look Andrew in the eyes. She ran a fingernail over the ball sack and up the slit to his ass and he saw stars of pain and arousal. If this were a video, if this did not involve Andrew and an insane maniac, he would have paid any amount of money for it. His hard on was pressing into Andrew and with just the right flex, he got just enough friction, and he groaned. Andrew was yelling inarticulately in rebellion and Safi was laughing again as she stood up.
There was no foreplay: Safi raised the belt and brought it down on his ass with the fury of hell, on top of the bruises she put there earlier. He tried to curl up in pain but the ropes would not give so his muscles went into spasms, trying to contract, while he screamed. Under him, Andrew became very still.
She waited, holding the belt high, until Andy was breathing deeply. Then again. On the third strike, he was screaming once more and Andrew was yelling obscenities.
"Yer too fookin' loud, bitches." Safi marched off and came back with a socks. She bundled two up and shoved one in each mouth and used the other socks as gags. She leaned over and waved something in his face, and he realized it was a section of electrical cord, a makeshift whip that was going to cut him bloody raw. He squirmed instinctively, his body registering that it was in trouble, that survival was on the line, that some very bad hurting was coming down on him.
Safi was just getting started.
Everyone met back up at the station, trying to decide what to do. Danny read out his notes from his meeting with Mr. David, and Nicholas was impressed with the amount of detail in them. It was clear that Safi somehow managed to subdue two men twice her size and kidnap them – while there was no witness for Andy's abduction, it made sense. From what Mr. Davis said, her phone call to Andy at the station happened about an hour and a half after she attacked Andrew. Now, three hours later, there was no telling where they were. Obviously within a 45 minute radius of her apartment complex, for her to stash Andrew and then get back to grab Andy within the time window they had, but on a straight road and at high speed, that could still be damn far away. Instinct told Nicholas that they did not have a lot of time to waste on finding them, but he had no answers to that problem.
Tony worked on securing legal access to her apartment, although Nicholas did not hold much hope for finding anything there to tell them where she took the Andes. He picked up the case file that Andy was maintaining and started flipping into it deeper.
Andy's blood dripped down his sides onto Andy and eventually soaked into the wet blanket under them. He was delirious, his body completely melted into the chemical haze that his brain had become. He yelled and screamed and cried and begged and nothing stopped the pain. When he went to throw up again there was nothing left in him to puke and he nearly killed himself choking on the sock gag. Finally Safi's hits became soft and languid and Andy registered the sensation of the electric cord being trailed across his back over open wounds and he shuddered and cried. Safi laughed, again; she only laughed when she stopped.
"Let's show you man what a bender really is." Safi stood over them and they were both distracted by her undoing her pants and dropping her trousers to reveal what was, on the whole for such a delicate man, a very decently sized erection. Andrew went into a panicked frenzy under him, but Andy was fucking terrified, with what part of his brain that was still working. This was not going to be Nicholas being nice with a lot of lube. All of his muscles clenched in panicked anticipation. Andrew, who was just now realizing what was really going on, was shaking in fury. Safi took a bit of rope and strung a noose around Andy's neck and wrapped the end into his wrist as he knelt down behind Andy and with no ceremony at all shoved his penis directly and deeply into Andy, the blood running down his back and over his ass the only lubricant needed, gasping in the pleasure of the violation.
Safi's rape was cruel and brutal and he nearly strangled Andy with the rope when he came. Andy just wanted to pass out, and welcomed the pressure on his neck as a fast way to get there, but Safi knew the limits. Andy felt every movement of Safi inside him, ripping him bloody, as sweat dripped off Safi's body onto the fresh wounds on Andy's back, the salt making them sting. Andy did not know when he started screaming or when he stopped, but when the rope finally slackened and Safi got up, he was delirious from the exertions of trying to fight off the inescapable.
Then the pain started again.
Safi did not need to use much force with the cord to get Andy to react and was clearly getting bored. When he stopped, Andy tried to open his eyes and found that he could barely see, but he saw Andrew, who was motionless under him, and who looked insane with grief. Andy understood then that he was already dead, that now it was just a matter of waiting for Safi to pull the trigger or tighten the rope or just let him bleed to death; but the only thought that came to him then was at least he was going to die next to Andrew.
He felt the stinging lash of the cord across the bottom of his bare feet. The pain exploded through his entire body and at last, merciful god, his mind went dark.
Andrew was trying not to throw up. Andy was in and out of consciousness as Safi shredded him and raped him repeatedly during the course of the impossibly long night. He was not thinking about the fact that this man gave him a blow job, or that this man was raping Andy. No, what he concentrated on was that Andy was slowly being tortured to death on top of him. He was totally helpless in a way he never actually understood before, and even as he thought clinically that Andy was dying and he was next and no one was coming for them, he screamed into the gag in his mouth with every ounce of desperation and terror and pure red-blooded fury he had until he physically felt his sanity crack.
It was late in the afternoon the next day and the entire department was still there, sleepless, worried, and frustrated. Nicholas had the Turners inform the Met what was going on and they were waiting on reinforcements who would not arrive for hours yet. Nicholas read the report and Andy's scribbled notes repeatedly until his eyes dripped tears and Danny forced him to stop. Now he was sitting in a chair, his head in his hands, trying not to listen to the buzz of everyone around him.
"'Ere, this is strange." Danny said.
"Wot, luv?" Doris answered, sounding exhausted.
"Look."
Nicholas heard the rattling of the newspaper and was furious with Danny for reading the damn paper and not concentrating on the case.
Doris whistled. "Chief, 'ere, Danny's on to somethin'."
Nicholas head snapped up. Doris looked at his expression and then carefully handed the paper back to Danny. "'Ere, you tell 'im, Danny."
Danny did not wait for Nicholas' nod. "Those murders in Wiltfordshire that Liz wrote about, the bodies they found. Two of 'em, tied up together and buried in a cellar at an abandoned barn." He shook the paper.
Nicholas waited as Danny put down the paper and picked up the case file.
"Well if this is right, then they were killed right about the time Safi was in town. According to Andy's notes on her rap sheet, she was arrested for pick pocketing but she told him she weren't ever there." Danny said it casually, as if he was reading off the weather report, and then stopped in horror. Nicholas straightened his back very slowly and everyone turned to look at him as one.
"I want to know of every abandoned barn within an hour of here, and any place that might even look like one. I don't care how many, or what you do to find them, I want every fucking barn checked."
She untied Andy and drug him over to a cellar door, and pushed him down. She back and leaned over Andrew.
"I need to get some rest. Pretty, there takes a lot of work yeah? But I do want to save myself, so 'ere, you boys get some sleep." She reached down and tased him.
He woke up lying nearly on top of Andy, in the dark, with just a blanket that Safi apparently tossed down as an afterthought.
Andrew had no idea why Safi did not touch him. He was some kind of witness to the madness, or perhaps he was just dessert once Andy was dead. Andrew held no illusions about the situation: Safi was going to kill Andy, slowly, and he was going to make Andrew watch. What this did for Safi, Andrew could not fathom, but he knew what it was doing to him.
He went by the book, at first, crawling about the cellar space, looking for a way out. He knew enough cellars like this one to know that there was no way out, but he had to try. He wrapped Andy up in the blanket that Safi threw down and then inspected every inch of their prison, and found exactly what he knew he would find: nothing. The door was bolted from the outside and they were essentially buried alive in a hole in the ground. He crawled back to Andy by touch and found him shaking uncontrollably, from pain or shock it was impossible to know. He pulled him up to his chest and they sat facing each other, arms wrapped around naked torsos, and Andrew tried not to imagine the blood on his hands from Andy's wounds, which ran across and around him from head to foot. He wrapped the blanket over both of them, giving most of it to Andy, and debated the merits of freezing to death if the temperature dropped vs. dying at the hands of homicidal sociopath.
Andy's head tilted in and down to rest against Andrew's chest, and his arms tightened just a bit in what might have been a desperate clutch, if it were not so weak. Andrew lowered his head and put his mouth near Andy's ear.
"Stay on, mate. You'll be fine. I got you."
Andy responded by rubbing his face against Andrew's chest, and Andrew could not figure out if he was shaking his head "no" or if he was just delirious. Maybe both.
Earlier he was disgusted by Andy, his hard on pressing against him, his obvious lust for Andrew playing out against Safi's insanity in what, to Andrew, was a horror of disturbia. The thought of Safi giving him head made him ill then, and the thought of Andy getting off on him was even worse. Now, though, it really did not seem to matter. Chances were, they were both going to die here together, and what mattered more than that?
He pulled Andy in closer to his body.
Andy lifted his head some and in the creaking, inky darkness, some light came from somewhere to just hint at his eyes. "Andrew…I'm….mmm…sorr-rry…" He was stuttering.
"Nothin' to be sorry for, Andy. You're ain't the crazy one here."
Andy nodded. "Lll-love…you…" As soon as Andy said it, his body began shaking with sobs or delirium or shock.
Andrew shook his head, although he knew Andy probably could not see him. "Shhh. Don' matter. I got you." He held him as he had not held him since they were children, when Andy would come running to him for protection or help or just because he was scared of the dark. It was two lives they shared almost as one, and whatever else Andy was, he was still one of the most important pieces of Andrew's world. He kissed Andy's forehead. When it calmed Andy down some, he did it again, and Andy calmed down even more. "I want you to breathe, Andy, just keep breathin'." Andrew told him between kisses and slowly, quietly, without planning to or with any reason other than his deep fear for Andy's life, kissed him on the lips.
Andy almost stopped shaking and tilted his head up in surprise. Andrew brought one hand up to steady Andy's chin and just held them there together. It was not passionate or romantic, it was nothing more than lifegiving.
Andrew understood then to the marrow of his bones that Andy was his best friend, and that he loved him. The word might not mean quite the same to both men, he thought, but it was love in its own way. He held Andy in his arms and kissed him, not for what he needed or wanted or felt, but to give something to Andy before they died; and his grip around his friend tightened as the kiss deepened and Andrew discovered the new taste of someone he had known all his life. He thought that if he could only move mountains, he would save Andy's life, even at the cost of his own.
It was morning again, and still, no one had slept. The special unit from London was three people that Nicholas promptly sent out with a map to check on barns. When they heard his explanation of why, one of them nodded and described three unsolved murders in London concerning people tied together in pairs and tortured to death, and congratulated Nicholas on his astute detective skills in putting it all together. Their words sank like cold lead weights into Nicholas' heart, and he suspected he was not the only one who felt that way.
If the Andes were still alive, time was running out.
He was not sure when it turned from giving comfort to making love. Andy was severely, mortally injured and it was not like they were going to be humping each other on the dirt floor of a moldy cellar, but Andrew was not innocent and could not call it anything other than what it was. Andy's weak hands trailed over his chest and their tongues moved against each other in a slow, open kiss. It was not Andrew's intention to go out of this mortal coil as a flaming queer, but he decided that given the options, this was in fact a good way to die. He did not drop his hands below Andy's waist – there was too much damage there for pleasure, in any case, so he had a good excuse. Instead he kept his hands propping Andy up and running light touches over his face and listening to his friend whimper in what little pleasure his burned out nerves could process. He bucked a little when Andy's hand went below his waist, but Andy did not try anything too queer, he just gently touched the delicate skin he found and sighed from the exertions.
Andy broke the kiss and dropped his head to kiss Andrew's neck, and Andrew admitted that it felt marvelous. He sighed and held his head up, and suddenly registered that Andy's light touches below his waist were massaging him into a hard on. He wondered what kind of sick bastard he was to let this happen, but he felt Andy pulling strength into himself from this, and he could not bring himself to severe that life line. This was his cost then: obliteration. He did not feel like Andrew anymore, except where he felt his love and concern for Andy, and he took that path as it rolled out for him, in whatever way it went, to save Andy's life…as the only way he might be able to save Andy, in some mysterious way. He leaned back and laid down, pulling Andy on top of him, under the blanket, and held him close as Andy slowly worked him into a crisis, kissing his neck, jerking him off with weak and unsteady motions, and as Andrew fought his misplaced orgasm he whispered Andy's name.
Andy felt Andrew under him as life itself. There was nothing for it, really; his pain made him delirious and his hold on Andrew was the only thing keeping him present at all. It was exhausting and every inch of his skin cracked in agony but he had to have Andrew before he died: he had to hear him, and touch him, and know just once what it was like to be his lover; it would almost be like life, then. When he heard his own name he finally stopped and drifted away.
Walker radioed in and Tony translated that there were very fresh tire marks out at the barn he was heading towards. They were the tracks of cars that normally would not come out such an old, beat up road, and anyway Saxon was acting anxious and wound up all of a sudden. Nicholas told him to hold off until he and Tony got there, and as he spun the car Tony hit the siren and Nicholas floored it.
Safi was not sympathetic. He told Andrew to carry Andy up, if he could not walk himself. He did, and laid him down on the wooden door to the cellar, just to keep him off the ground. He stopped then, in shock. Andy was pale as white sheets and smeared head to toe in blood. Andrew looked at himself and realized that their…efforts… covered them both in blood from Andy's wounds. Safi laughed.
"Wot you two been up to? You kill 'em off for me? Ah, nevermind then." She raised the gun level on Andy, aiming for his chest.
Andrew did not even think as he went for Safi. The gun went off and suddenly the place seemed to explode around him.
The gunshot sent Nicholas charging into the building, Tony on his heels, as Saxon barked and Walker went for the radio. He found someone attacking Safi, and it barely registered that the naked and blood-drenched man wresting with Safi was Andrew Wainwright. Nicholas leapt into the fray and pistol-whipped Safi with the butt of his gun while Safi kept firing off more shots randomly and Tony fell down in his efforts to drag Andrew to safety. The fray went on for only a few moment before Nicholas finally got a clear blow to the head and Safi dropped, unconscious. Nicholas quickly kicked the gun away and trussed Safi unceremoniously with his handcuffs.
He turned around and his heart stopped, his mind slowing events down to slow-motion. Tony was trying to calm down a bloody, slippery Andrew who was screaming, dragging himself to the only other body in the building. That body was Andy Cartwright: cut like raw meat, motionless, and probably dead. Nicholas nearly dropped to the ground, realizing that they were certainly too late.
Andrew was mostly unharmed, although traumatized and suffering taser burns on his neck. Andy was just barely alive, and when the ambulance sped off at high speed with sirens blaring, it was for Andy's sake, not Andrew. Tony and Walker took Safi back to town and offered to do most of the paperwork, seeing the expression on Nicholas face. He stayed to wait for CSI and instead welcomed Danny into his arms.
"What are you doing here?"
"Came for you."
"Why?'
"I figured…we're partners. Might need to guard your back."
"Partners…Danny. I'm sorry. I'm fucking everything up." Nicholas admitted, as they stood next to the barn, wrapped into each other. Nicholas was resting his head on Danny's shoulder, his hands gripping Danny's vest. "Andy looked…bad."
"I heard on the radio." Danny rubbed his back.
"Danny…"
Danny shook his head, to say 'not here, not now.' But Nicholas could not stop.
"I don't love him, Danny. Not like you."
"Don't make it better. Don't make it right, Nicholas. I love you too but…what's that without trust, right? So Liz don't trust either of us, and you don't trust me, and I don't trust you, and everyone's lyin' about everything." Danny held Nicholas closer, tightly, to the point that it was hard for Nicholas to breathe. "So no one's got nothin', then." He let go and pushed Nicholas back, who felt stunned. "I came here for you, Nick, because we're partners. I'll always be here for you."
"As partners."
"Yeah." Danny let his hands drop and stepped back, and Nicholas understood why he did not want to have this conversation here, or now. Danny was telling him that they were over.
"There is no one else for me, Danny." It was a small lie, and in many ways a truth, and it was all Nicholas could think of to say. Andy would never be what Danny was to him.
Danny shrugged, but did not press the issue. It was the only ray of hope that Nicholas could take away from this. He closed his eyes and wondered what happened to the strong, upstanding and morally superior Sergeant Angel he was two years ago.
Nicholas sat in the room with Andy and Andrew. Andrew just stood by the hospital bed looking down at Andy with a crushed, worried expression, and Nicholas knew exactly how he felt. It was the same look Nicholas wore for days after Danny was shot by Tom Weaver. It was the same fear. As Nicholas studied him he realized something else: it was the same expression, completely, because it was love.
Shocked, he looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling like an outsider. He slowly got up and left.
He heard Andrew behind him before he was halfway down the hall.
"Yes, Sergeant?" Nicholas turned on him before he could start anything.
Andrew studied him for a moment before rolling his eyes off to look at the wall. "'E's been staying with you."
"Yes. Everyone knows that, Sergeant."
Andrew nodded. "When he gets out of 'ere…I'm taking him home."
"I understand." Nicholas heart sank, but he knew it was right. He already screwed up enough lives, so he was not going to stand in the way of this – whatever in the hell 'this' was.
"Do you?" Andrew nearly sneered the words.
Nicholas sighed in exasperation. "Andrew, I don't care. I…I mean, of course I care about Andy. He's been through hell. I want him to be alright and to come back to work and move on with his life. You may not understand or believe me, but I want him to be happy." Nicholas stopped, knowing that he did not need to add that Andrew was exactly the only thing that really made Andy happy, or complete. He saw that understanding in Andrew's deep, dark eyes.
Slowly Andrew reached out and grasped Nicholas' jacket. It was a threatening move, but done slowly and without drama and almost softly. He moved closer to Nicholas and for a shocking moment, Nicholas thought he was going to kiss him.
"You fuck 'im?" Andrew asked, breathing the words so low that no one but Nicholas could hear.
Nicholas considered his answer, but it was not much of a deliberation. He was done with lying or hiding anything. He already paid the price of it by losing Danny, and in turn, Liz; nothing was left but the truth of everything that Nicholas had done wrong.
"Yes."
Andrew let go of the jacket and sighed, turning his head to look up at the ceiling. He shoved his hands in his jacket and looked at Nicholas again. He motioned for Nicholas to follow him back into Andy's room. It was a private room; Nicholas' position in the village was enough that he could muscle that much for his people. Andrew closed the door and they stood side by side by Andy's bed as the machines clicked and beeped and Andy slept in a drug-fueled haze. Looking at this, and feeling the truth of what he said to Andrew, and all that was changed, and how many people were hurt and the monster that he, himself, had become, Nicholas leaned forward and braced his hands against the bars of the bed, feeling heavy and alone.
"Christ, Nick, it ain't that bad." Andrew said, leaning in to him.
Nicholas smiled and looked over at him. "No?"
"No." Andrew reached up and rubbed his back and Nicholas tried not to faint from surprise. They looked at each other a moment and Nicholas registered that they were very evenly matched as he leaned over and kissed him.
It was surprisingly soft. Everything about Andrew turned out to be soft and light: his kiss, his touch, his words. Inspector Nicholas Angel, who was always in charge and holding everything together, pressed himself into Andrew's arms and collapsed, distantly registering the irony of being comforted by the man who just spent 48 hours as the hostage of a sociopathic serial killer. The kiss ended as quietly as it began and Andrew wrapped his arms around Nicholas to hold him up while he pressed his face into Andrew's jacket, not crying, but not quite composed either. Time crawled around them. Andrew reached up and stroked Nicholas' head to comfort him, and whispered into his ear that no, things are not that bad. Finally Nicholas pulled back so they looked at each other again. He did not see love or passion in Andrew's eyes, but some form of concern, and worry, and that was enough as they drifted into another light kiss that made Nicholas think of warm summer nights on country roads and…Danny. He reached up a hand to stroke Andrew's cheek and felt him shudder and he thought about pulling away until Andrew's arms drew him closer.
The door opened behind them and Danny walked in.
Andrew stood by the bed. In the moment when Danny walked in, Angel had thrown himself backwards but it was too obvious what was going on and Danny was no fool, for all that he acted like one sometimes. He turned and walked out, and of course Angel flew out after him. Andrew did not have much hope for that situation; Angel was going around like a slut, and in Danny's shoes Andrew would beat the crap out of him.
Of course, Andrew did not shove him off when the unexpected kiss landed on him. He was not sure why; a week ago, something like Angel leaning over to kiss him would have lead to a lot more head injuries for everyone involved. But Andrew was fundamentally different, now. He felt broken; Safi did not injured him much, physically, but the fucker broke him just the same.
"Danny!"
"Don't you get it, Nicholas? It don't matter who you love if you go around trying for everything that looks good t'ya!"
"It's not…Christ it's not like that, Danny…it never was…" Nicholas tried to explain but Danny was beyond caring. Nicholas reached out to grab him, to make him understand.
Danny turned and ran off.
Ten days later, Andrew opened the door to find Angel staring back at him. It occurred to him that the last time this happened, everything went to hell in a very bad way, and he tried to push that idea out of his mind.
"I'm here to check on Andrew."
Andrew rolled his eyes and refrained from pointing out that he was Andrew. Nick would never get that fucking right. He stepped back and motioned him in.
Andy was propped up on the couch, conscious and still in pain, only two days out of the hospital. He looked surprised to see Angel, and Andrew wondered what was going on. He went to the far side of the couch and sat down to watch.
Angel paused in the middle of the room for a second, then walked over to Andy. He got down on his knees and put a delicate hand on Andy's chest, making no pretense to professionalism.
"How are you?"
Andy nodded.
"I wanted to make sure you don't need anything."
Andy shook his head.
"Your job is waiting for you, of course. Both of you. I took care of all the paperwork."
"Thanks." Andy looked relieved, although Andrew did not understand why. If anything, it was clear that he was under Angel's protection now. Just like Danny. And just like himself? Andrew look off out the window.
Angel paused with his hand on Andy's chest, then got up. "Well, I need to go."
Andy looked down wordlessly, and Andrew snorted.
"Christ, Nick. We're just puttin' in a movie. Stick around."
Angel looked confused, so Andrew leaned forward.
"Stay. Here. Watch. Movie. Can you fuckin' handle that?"
"Um…yes. If Andy…"
Andy just nodded when Angel looked at him.
"Okay, then." Nicholas took off his jacket, folding it carefully onto the back of a chair. He turned and looked at the couch, and Andrew nearly shouted when Andy made as if he was going to get up. Angel quickly walked forward and put a hand on Andy's shoulder. "No, stay on the couch, Andy. I'll sit next to you."
Andy looked surprised and that was when Andrew realized that Andy was in the middle of going to sit on the fucking floor. He shot his gaze forward, because he knew he was staring, and actively chewed on his tongue. What the fuck?
Andy scooted toward the middle and Angel sat down next to him. "So what is the movie?"
Andrew got up to fetch the remote. "Lethal Weapon."
Andy and Andrew stared at Nicholas as he groaned and put his head on his knees.
Andy was dead asleep by the time the movie was halfway through. So was Nicholas, who saw the movie enough times with Danny as to think of it more like a bed time story. He felt a tap on his shoulder as he was drifting off, and he looked up to see Andrew standing next to him. Andrew gave a curt nod towards the back of the house, which Nicholas took to mean 'I need to talk to you privately so wake the fuck up and follow me you twat.' He got up slowly in order not to wake Andy and followed.
It was Andrew's bedroom. Andy walked in and stopped next to the dresser. Nicholas closed the door.
"Yes?"
"What the fuck was that about?" Andrew leaned one hand on the dresser and did not look at him.
Nicholas knew what he was asking. He saw the look Andrew gave when Nicholas told Andy he could stay on the couch. He was actually glad that Andrew was going to grill him about it, rather than Andy, who probably was not psychologically up to a discussion like this right now.
"Something we do."
"You fuckin' make him sit on the floor?" Andrew was getting angry.
"Sometimes. Mostly he just goes there on his own." Nicholas moved to lean against the wall, one arm propped on the dresser next to him. Andrew was processing his comment. "Andrew, it's just the way he is. Or was. I don't know about now…" Nicholas said, and they both knew he meant to say 'now that he's survived being tortured by a sadistic killer' but it was not necessary. Andrew surprised him by nodding, then moving to lean against the wall himself. They were mirror images of each other on each side of the dresser.
"Makes sense. Always asking me what the 'ell to do."
"What do you mean?"
Andrew sucked on his teeth, thinking. "'Fore work. Every day, he'd ask what needin' doing. 'Round the house, like cleaning or fuck'all. Always got done."
Nicholas laughed. "I left notes on his bed with instructions."
Andrew smiled. "You fuckin' would." Then he frowned. "His bed?"
Nicholas pursed his lips. "We didn't sleep together."
Andrew just frowned more, confused.
"He slept on the floor by my bed." Nicholas took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the outburst. Instead he heard Andrew laughing. He looked over and saw bright eyes staring at him.
"Fuuuuck, Nick, that's messed up."
Nicholas turned so he was facing Andrew across the dresser. "Maybe. I don't think it is appropriate now, however."
Andrew nodded. "Nick…"
"Yes, Andrew?"
"I can't give 'im everything he needs." Andrew turned as well so they were face to face, the dresser between them.
"Christ, you love him." Nicholas said when he understood what Andrew meant, dropping his head so he did not have to look at him.
"When he's better, come back. He'll need you then." Andrew straightened and headed to leave the room.
"Andrew." Nicholas ordered it, and surprisingly, Andrew stopped and looked back at him. "What do you need?"
For the first time since he met him, he saw something like fragility in Andrew's eyes. "I don't fuckin' know anymore, 'kay?" He said it, his voice practically breaking with anger and confusion, and walked out.
He was holding Andy when Angel finally left. When he came back up front Andy was tilting over in an odd position so Andrew sat down next to him and wrapped him up in his arms to support him. Angel walked out from the bedroom and stared at them while he put on his jacket. Andrew was not too surprised when he came over and kissed Andy on the temple, gently, so as not to wake him.
He was very surprised when Angel gently held his own chin, tilted his head up, and kissed him passionately on the lips before turning to leave.
Then Angel was gone.
"Safi was clearly off the edge, her…his conquests getting riskier and riskier. Safi knew that the Andes…Cartwright and Wainwright were police officers, and surely could not believe that their disappearance would go unnoticed."
"Inspector, is it true that Wainwright was on administrative leave at the time?"
"Detective Sergeant Wainwright was on the active duty roster at the time of the incident." Nicholas looked at Liz with his blankest expression. Liz shrugged and kept recording, asking more questions that Nicholas already answered one hundred times before for reporters. Liz was the last one to request an interview; she clearly did not want to do it, or see him at all, but it was her job.
Finally she turned off the recorder and Nicholas sighed in relief. "How is Andy?"
"He'll be fine. He's home and Andrew's taking care of him."
"I'm glad, really. Please tell him that I hope the doctors shaved off his mustache." She smiled, her animosity to the Andes' facial hair well known. Nicholas smiled back.
"I'll tell him you send your best."
She got up to leave.
"Liz…"
"Don't, Nicholas. There isn't anything to say."
Nicholas bowed his head. "I don't…I've made some serious mistakes and I don't know how to fix anything. Please."
"You're the one having sex with other people on the locker room floor. That's all you."
Nicholas grimaced but let the hit fall on him. "I know."
"You about killed Danny dragging him into your games like this. Me, guess I'm used to this kind of thing." The anger made her voice crack and he looked up at her, worried, devastated that he could make anyone feel this way.
"I have nothing for you, Nicholas. You might be able to patch up with Danny…someday…but to me, you are lying, cheating son of a bitch." She gathered her things and walked out, leaving Nicholas smashed against his chair, roiling in self-disgust.
SIX MONTHS LATER
Nicholas woke up disoriented, then remembered the four lagers he had the night before. He was not a heavyweight, certainly not compared to the Andes, and those four drinks cost him. He groaned.
"Shut it." Andrew threw a hand and smacked him on the chest. Nicholas grabbed the hand and held it.
"Leggo."
Nicholas did not let go.
"Nick, you fuck, gimme my hand." Andrew pulled at his hand. They were lying side by side and as Andrew tugged he rolled over on top of Nicholas, grabbing his ribs. Nicholas tried to laugh but his head hurt, and then suddenly he could not breathe.
Andrew's kisses were never hard or demanding, but they took his breath away. Nicholas let go of his hand and their arms wound around each other languidly, caressing and gentle. They were wrapped up in the sheets but Nicholas could feel Andrew's erection through them and pressed against it. The kiss ended as Andrew groaned and pushed his head into Nicholas' shoulder.
"You nancies want food or you going to eat cock all morning?"
Andrew groaned again, this time in aggravation.
"Andy." Nicholas rolled over onto his belly and looked at Andy, who was standing in the doorway just wearing a pair of jeans. Andy raised his eyebrows in rebellion, daring him to something, his mouth slightly agape in its usual taunt. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Come here. Now." Nicholas rolled onto his back again.
Andrew started laughing, snickering in amusement as Andy obediently walked in and put himself between Nicholas' legs. Andrew threw off the sheets and rubbed a hand over his substantial hard on. "Fuck'on, you two: which one is my bitch today?"
Characters: Andrew Wainwright, Andy Cartwright, Danny Butterman, Nicholas Angel
Narrative mode: third-limited