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perpetual_motionTitle: 5 Moments in the Life of Two Dicks
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Green Lantern Corps
Pairing: Kyle/M, Guy/Kyle
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Title says it all. Consider it a sequel to Just Two Dicks.
Dis: Lies and bullshit.
Author's Notes: Forlasergirl, per her holiday ficlet request. It got kinda long for a ficlet, but I doubt you care, hon. And beautifully betaed by dytabytes, who figured out I can't spell anyone's name right on the first try.
5 Moments in the Life of Two Dicks
By Perpetual Motion
1. I am the Warrior. (Bang. Bang.)
"Gardner!" Lieutenant Kilowog hollered as he walked towards Guy and Kyle's shared double-wide desk. "Last I checked, I still required ties on my detectives."
"I'm still wrapped," Guy replied, holding up his left arm, which was swathed in bandages from his fingertips to the middle of his forearm. "I can barely button my shirt right now."
"I allow clip ons in extenuating circumstances."
"No, offense, Loo, but I'd rather eat my shoes. Clip ons are for dorks at debate tournaments whose mommies forgot to teach them the basics of being a man."
"Their mommies?" The Lieutenant asked.
"My dad was only useful for learning to dodge a punch."
"Ah," The Lieuteant said. "So, how'd you get that?" He gestured to Guy's wrapped hand.
"What are the current bets?"
"Ask your partner. He's keeping the pool."
Guy swiveled in his chair and hollered towards Kyle, who was across the room pouring them coffee. "Rayner!"
"What?" Kyle hollered back without turning around.
"What are the guesses for my horrible injury?"
Kyle walked to the desk, putting Guy's coffee cup next to his uninjured hand. "Three people are insistent it's a jerk-off injury. Two think you fell in the shower, and five think you got your ass kicked by a mystery girlfriend."
"I don't have a girlfriend."
"I tried to tell people that, but no one believes me," Kyle said as the Lieutenat said, "How are you still not dating after Tora? It's been years. For hell's sake, Gardner; move on."
"Wait." Kyle looked between Guy and Kilowog. "Who's Tora?"
"My ex," Guy ground out, shifting in his chair, not liking the way the tone of the conversation was going/moving/changing. "It's not a big deal. It's just--"
"How long have you been broken up?" Kyle asked.
Guy worked his jaw back and forth. He glanced at the Lieutenant, but Kilowog just shook his head. "A couple of years," Guy finally admitted.
"Two-and-a-half," the Lieutenant corrected.
"And how does Loo know about her and I don't?" Kyle asked.
Guy stared down at his hands. "He just does."
"He got transferred here because he slugged her fiance," Kilowog said.
"Hey!" Guy protested. "Thought that was under your hat, Loo!"
"Rayner, tell Guy rule number two."
"No secrets from your partner," Kyle said, glowering a bit at Guy.
"I thought there was one rule," Guy said. "And that one was do your goddamned job and don't be a douche."
"Rayner lost his last partner because he was honest," Kilowog explained. "We decided to implement a second rule."
"Thanks for letting me know," Guy drawled with heavy sarcasm.
"Says the man who didn't mention his ex-girlfriend who caused him to transfer," Kyle retorted.
"Tora did not cause me to transfer," Guy said slowly. "I caused myself to transfer because I did something fuck stupid. Don't confuse the two."
Kyle blinked. He looked at the Lieutenant, and Kilowog merely shrugged. "Sound advice," he said. "You still need a tie, Gardner," he added as he turned on his heel and walked back to his office.
"He's really into those ties, huh?"
"He argues it's part of the don't-be-a-douche mandate," Kyle explained. He reached into the bottom drawer on his side of the desk and pulled out a dark blue tie. He looped it around his own neck and made a loose knot. He slipped it back over his head and handed it over to Guy.
"Thanks," Guy said, maneuvering the tie over his head and settling it under his collar, pulling it tight with one hand. "How's that?"
"You mind?" Kyle asked, reaching out.
Guy tilted his head back, and Kyle straightened his tie and adjusted his collar. "My father was a rampantly abusive asshole," Guy said in an undertone. "I spent a lot of time trying not to be him. Tora helped with that. She's one of those genuinely sweet people who thinks most everyone is decent. I wanted her to be right, so I tried even harder, and eventually it stopped being me trying and just became me."
Kyle leaned back and crossed his arms. "And then you slugged her fiance, which kind of felt like it was all a huge mess."
"Pretty much." Guy rubbed his good hand over his jaw. "I wasn't proud of it even when I did it. I just saw them together being so happy, and I...I kind of blanked. One second, I'm standing up to grit out a congratulations speech, and the next thing I know, he's on the ground, and Tora's saying some unsightly things in Norwegian."
"Norwegian?"
"She's from Norway. I...um...I learned to speak it to impress her."
Kyle grinned. "She must really be something."
"Yeah..." Guy fiddled with his tie. "I didn't mention it because it's an embarrassment, and I didn't want you to think I was some kind of fuck up you couldn't trust to keep his head out his ass."
"I shouldn't have jumped on you like that," Kyle replied. "I just get twitchy about not knowing stuff about my partner, since my last one bailed on me for fear of catching the gay."
Guy leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the desk. "I'm not gonna lose my shit over it, okay?"
"I figured, since you're still here, but still--"
"Twitchy."
"Yeah."
Guy scratched the back of his neck and looked down at his bandaged arm. "No secrets, huh?"
"That's the hope." Kyle looked around them then reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a battered notebook. "Here," he said. "Just keep it low."
Guy took the notebook with a raised eyebrow. Kyle was turning red, looking anywhere but Guy. He flipped open the notebook, expecting to see case notes and a few scene sketches. Instead there were sketches of actual things and people. The squad room in overblown perspective, their desk huge and foreboding, the rest fading into miniature. Lieutenant Kilowog leaning against the door to his office, huge arms and chest defined through careful shading. Pictures of the other detectives: Vath and Isamot mid-argument. Iolande in a skirt and jacket, looking more like visiting royalty than a detective. Chip and Gnort laughing over something in a case report.
"These are really good," Guy said as he finished flipping through. "You did these?"
"Yeah. I took a lot of art classes as a kid. My mom wanted me to be well-rounded, and I liked them, but there's no money in it if you don't have a trust fund or a wealthy dowager."
Guy handed back the notebook and looked at his bandaged hand. "I found a cat in the alley next to my building the other day. It smelled like rotted death and was completely pitiful, so I took it to the vet, got it industrial flea dipped and got all its shots, and then I took it home. Woke up the next day just as the fucker bit the hell out of me." He held up his wrapped hand. "Six stitches, and the psycho was asleep on the back of the sofa when I left this morning."
Kyle grinned. "Seriously?"
"Yup."
Kyle's grin widened. "What's his name?"
"Dex," Guy muttered, and he rolled his eyes when Kyle swallowed back a laugh. "So there you go," he said. "You're gay. I have a dark and terrible past. You're secretly an artist, and I'm one of those soft-hearted assholes who keeps strays around who chew my damned hand off."
"And the cat's still in one piece?"
"Of course!" Guy squinted when Kyle grinned again. "What?"
"Nothing," Kyle said, though he was thinking that Guy probably worried way too much about becoming some serious stripe of abusive asshole if he hadn't immediately harmed that cat. "It's good to get the air cleared. Just tell me, is Tora off-limits?"
Guy thought for a moment. "I dunno. Sometimes, I like talking about her, but sometimes I don't even want to think about her."
"I can work with that. Just tell me to cram it if I cross the line."
"Back at you," Guy said, and they shook on it.
2. I Fought the Law (and the Law Won)
"Okay, here's how it goes," Guy said as he flopped down in the chair across from their suspect. "You say you didn't do it--"
"I didn't!" The suspect yelled.
"Yeah, that's a great story, but here's the thing, fuck-for-brains: We've got you on tape at the ATM. You were holding a crowbar. The ATM was whaled open with a crowbar. If I draw that line any straighter, I can hang my damned laundry on it."
"I didn't do it!" The suspect yelled again.
"Uh-huh."
"I didn't!"
Guy opened his mouth to retort, but the door to the interrogation room opened, and Kyle walked in, shaking his head.
"Bad news," he said, giving Guy a rueful look. "He didn't whale on the ATM."
The suspect sagged back against his chair. "I was trying to tell him that!"
"You have to yell pretty loud to get through to him," Kyle said. "Sometimes, it takes hours."
"Up yours," Guy grumbled, crossing his arms. "Did you just show up to tell me the pissant gets to go home?"
Kyle looked at the suspect, who was sitting up straight, eagerness to leave clear on his face. "Did I say that?" He asked, and the suspect's face fell.
"What?!" The guy yelled. "You just said I didn't whale on the ATM!"
"I did," Kyle agreed. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a photograph, tossing it on the table. "Didn't say anything about the getaway car."
The photograph was blurred at the edges, but the suspect's face was clearly defined. He was in profile, glaring out the windshield, the ruined ATM just visible at the edge of the photo.
"Shit."
"Lemme guess," Guy said, smirking, "it's not you, huh?"
"Before you answer that," Kyle said as the suspect opened his mouth, "consider that you robbed an ATM, which is owned by a bank, which makes this federal if we want it to be."
"I kinda want it to be," Guy said. "I don't like lying assholes getting off easy."
"That's a good point," Kyle agreed, "but if he wants to give us useful information so we can stop having to chase down him and his crowbar buddy, I wouldn't mind quite as much."
"Maybe," Guy agreed slowly, running a hand over his chin. "Depends how much he could give us."
"You thinking we don't let him off easy if the info is light?"
"He's a lying little fuck-for-brains. I don't think he actually knows too much."
"Hey!" the suspect yelled. Guy and Kyle ignored him.
"He could probably give us a name, at least."
"No one's gonna trust fuck-for-brains with an actual name. He's probably just got a list of fakes."
"I do not!" the suspect snapped. He went red in the face, glaring at the both of them. "I know stuff!"
Guy turned to face him, slow and predatory. "What kind of stuff?"
It took three minutes and four names for the suspect to realize he'd been had. He clenched his jaw shut for a second. "Fuckers," he muttered. "I want my goddamned lawyer."
"That's Detective Fuckers," Guy told him as he stood up and followed Kyle out of the room. "Lawyer will be here in awhile."
"Fuckers," the suspect called after them, but Guy didn't correct him again.
"I don't think I will ever stop being amazed at the stupidity of criminals," Kyle said as Guy pulled out his cell to call legal aid. "One of them has to not fall for that 'you're-an-idiot-and-you-wanna-prove-you're-not' shtick. Right?"
"Law of averages says it has to happen sometime," Guy agreed, tapping his fingers against his phone as he waited for someone to pick up.
"Probably not anytime soon," Kyle mused, and Guy grunted in agreement as they walked into the squad room.
3. Hole in My Head (Hole in My Head)
Alex was asleep in the hospital bed when Kyle's cell rang. Kyle let go of Alex's hand--fingertips wrapped in bandages where Alex had clawed at the inside of the fridge door--and answered his phone without checking the caller ID.
"Rayner."
There was a pause, and Kyle started to pull the phone away to hang up when a rasp came over the line. "Force in a warehouse."
"What?" Kyle pulled the phone away from his ear. The caller ID said it was Guy. "Guy?"
"Warehouse on 87th," and now Kyle could recognize Guy's voice through the rasp.
"Guy, what happened?"
"Warehouse on--" there was a muffled yell, a reverberating thud, and half-mumbled swearing before the line went dead.
"Guy!" Kyle yelled. Alex jerked awake with an incoherent yelp. "Shit," Kyle muttered as he reached for Alex.
Alex jerked away. "No!" He screamed. "Get away! I don't know where Kyle is!"
"Alex," Kyle said, trying to keep his voice calm as he tried to stop the other man from flailing. "Alex, it's me. It's Kyle."
"I don't know where Kyle is!"
A nurse rushed into the room. She shoved Kyle aside with a well-placed hip snap. "I need you to step outside, Sir."
"He's my boyfriend!" Kyle yelled as Alex flailed again and scraped his abused hands against the rail.
"He's still in shock and isn't aware of his surroundings, Sir. I need you to step outside."
"But I--" Kyle's phone rang again, and he scrambled to take the call when he saw it was Guy again. "Guy!"
"Sir, I need you--"
"Force is dead," Guy said. There was a loopy note in his voice that made Kyle completely tune out the nurse who was still trying to make him leave the room while Alex moaned, his face pressed against the pillow.
"Think I'm injured," Guy said, voice up half an octave. "Tell Alex it's okay. Tell him that bastard's in piec--hey, I think I'm passing out."
There was a thump and a clatter and Kyle felt the same cold fear slam into him that had paralyzed him when he'd gotten the threat from Force about Alex and an old refrigerator. Guy was in trouble, Kyle knew. Big, big trouble. He ran out of Alex's room, dialing dispatch as he pitched himself down the stairs, just barely keeping his feet under him.
"Dispatch."
"This is Rayner. I need an ambulance and patrol cars to the warehouse district on 87th. Detective Gardner is down in the area. Tell whoever gets there first to organize the search. I'm headed that way now."
"Warehouse district on 87th. Ambulance and all available. Anything else, Detective?"
"Get word to Lieutenant Kilowog."
"Will do."
"10-4," Kyle said and closed his phone. He yanked his keys out of his pocket as he full-out ran for his car in the garage. He dropped his keys as he tried to put them into the ignition, and as he reached down to retrieve them, the last forty-eight hours slammed to the front of his mind. The taunting call from Force with vague instructions to a warehouse filled with old refrigerators. Kyle and Guy had split the search, and Kyle had been the one to find Alex, panicked and wild-eyed. His bloody fingertips had stained Kyle's shirt and tie. Guy pulling Kyle away when the paramedics showed up. Guy swearing to find Force as Kyle sat next to Alex's bedside and wondered if he was to blame.
"The only one responsible for this is the sick fuck who just did it," Guy had said, clapping Kyle on the shoulder. "Alex knows that."
Now, breathing deep to calm his shaking hands, Kyle wondered if Alex really did know or if Alex's reaction to him was the beginning of the end.
When he turned onto 87th, he spotted a growing collection of squad cars around a single warehouse. He screeched to a halt and jumped out of his car. As he ran towards the officer who seemed to be in charge, he heard an ambulance siren coming close.
"We're searching with two officers per building," the officer in charge said to Kyle before he could ask anything. "I've got ten officers searching right now and more coming this way."
Kyle checked the map. Five buildings were slashed through, each of them at a different part of the street. A wide sweep, then. He thought about Guy's falling-off voice and knew in his gut they had to lessen the radius. There's got to be something he can do. Guy's the tactical mind of their partnership.
What would Guy do? Kyle wondered for a second. if Kyle were possibly bleeding out from a gut wound and had called Guy with his last of effort, Guy would figure out a way to--
"Does anyone have a parabolic microphone?" Kyle asked. The officer looked at him, confusion all over his face.
"What?"
"We need a parabolic mike." Kyle yanked his cell out of his pocket. "We're going to use it to listen for Guy's phone, and it's going to tell us which building he's in. Find me a parabolic mike."
The officer pulled his radio up to his mouth while Kyle dialed Guy's number. "We're gonna find you," Kyle muttered as Guy's phone clicked to voicemail.
He was on his fourth try when the officer ran up, a parabolic microphone in one hand and headphones in the other. "We're going to walk it," Kyle said, jogging to the end of the block. "If we don't hear it here, we go to the next block. Keep the other officers in a search pattern."
"Already sent the order," the officer said as he slipped the headphones over one ear, flipped the switch to turn on the microphone, and fell into step next to Kyle.
There wasn't even a ping on the first block. "Want me to call back the men?" the officer asked.
"No, they're the failsafe. In case we missed it somehow." Kyle redialed and crossed the street to the next block.
"I've got it!" The officer shouted as they slowly paced back and forth in front of the fourth building on block two. "He's in there somewhere."
"Get everyone over here," Kyle ordered. He glanced down at himself, dressed in jeans and a blue shirt. "And get me a vest. We're going in full charge."
"Yes, Sir," the officer said and called in the order. The other officers were in place in less than two minutes, some running full tilt from the far end of the other block. One man tossed him a vest, and Kyle strapped it on, thumping his knuckles against it like he'd seen Guy do.
"Listen up," he barked, and the men fell silent from their murmured conversations. "We've got a man down in there. He told me he got Force, but I want us going in like he didn't. For those of you who may have just pulled up, we're looking for Detective Guy Gardner. Questions before we count off?"
No one said anything, so Kyle broke everyone into teams of two and led the charge into the building. He went in the front door, gun out and pointed at head level. People started calling "Clear!" Over the radios almost instantly. They worked their way up--a team on the elevator, a team on the stairs, two two keeping the ground floor secure. Kyle's blood rushed in his ears. His hands were steady, but he could feel his heart slamming hard in his chest.
"Got him!" An officer almost-yelled into his radio. "I've got Detective Gardner, third floor, second door on the left," he said in a calmer voice. "And Detective Gardner definitely got Force. We're gonna need the meat wagon."
"For which one?" Kyle barked.
"Just Force," the officer replied. "Sorry, detective. I didn't mean--"
"Call it in," Kyle interrupted him and ran up the stairs, shouldering aside other officers on the third-floor landing to get down the hallway first. He stopped in the second doorway and stared at the scene, not quite believing what he was seeing. Force was definitely dead, the puddle of blood around him proof of that as much as the numerous holes dead center in his chest. Guy was halfway across the room, face down, blood caking his hair and the floor around his head. The officer who'd found him was checking his pulse.
"Good pulse," he told Kyle as the paramedics shoved Kyle aside to get in with their gurney.
Kyle couldn't find the words to respond. He stood to one side, just inside the room, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do.
"Rayner!" Lieutenant Kilowog's voice boomed down the hallway. "Rayner, where the hell are you?"
Kyle swallowed hard and pushed off the wall. "Here, Loo!" he called, stepping around the doorway so the Lieutenant could see him. "Right here."
"Any holes in you?"
"No, sir."
"Good." Kilowog clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to make him rock back on his heels. "Now, get the hell out."
"What?"
"Rayner, your partner's in the hospital, and your other partner is about to be, and they're both there because of the dead ass in the corner. You stay around much longer, Poozer, you blow my scene and my case. Get out." It was said with gruff affection, but Kilowog's shove between his shoulder blades was anything but kind. "Ride in with Guy. Someone's gonna have to yell him down from taking a swing when he comes to in the hospital."
"Yes, sir." Kyle mumbled. He walked down the stairs and out to the ambulance, leaning against the back bumper to wait for the paramedics to make it down. His phone rang, and he thumped his head against the ambulance doors as he pulled it from his pocket. "Rayner," he answered.
"Kyle?" Alex's voice was lighter than usual. "I woke up, and you weren't here."
"I thought you were sedated," Kyle answered, and he wondered if he could kick himself in the mouth. "That's not--"
"I think I'm still a little out of it," Alex replied. "But I woke up, and you weren't here."
"I'm sorry. There was..." Kyle wondered how much to tell. Alex could fall into another panic attack if he told him everything. "Guy's been injured," he said. "I'm going to ride back to the hospital with him in a few minutes, and I'll come up to see you."
"You weren't here when I woke up," Alex said again, and there was a muffled thump.
"Alex?" Kyle asked.
"I'm tired," Alex said. He sounded far away, like the phone had fallen, and he couldn't be bothered to retrieve it.
"Go back to sleep," Kyle said. "I'll be there soon."
"You weren't here," Alex said again.
"Alex," Kyle said, but the paramedics came out the front door. "I'll be there soon," Kyle said. He didn't hear any reply, but he could hear Alex breathing the steady breathing of someone asleep.
"You riding along?" one of the paramedics asked.
"Yeah," Kyle said. He stepped aside to let them maneuver in the gurney and followed after it. Guy was face up, still unconscious. There were bruises already forming on his face and arms. He had a jagged cut down one arm that had been taped up with butterfly stitches. Kyle wondered what others scar he’d have by the time everything was accounted for at the hospital.
4. Punch. Fight. Fuck.
“Hi.” The guy who sat down to Kyle’s left was toothpaste ad good looking with strawberry blonde hair and annoyingly white teeth.
“Go away,” Kyle said, more into his beer than at the guy.
“I’m Taylor.”
“Go—”
“Spoken for.” Guy interrupted as he walked up to the bar.
“No, I’m—”
“Fine, I was gonna try to save you some face, but fuck it,” Guy said to him before turning to Taylor. “He just got his ass dumped. He’s here to get drunk as shit and do something regrettable.”
Taylor shrugged. “He’s cute. I’m okay with that.”
Guy leaned in close and propped his bare forearm on the bar so Taylor could see the still-raw scar on his arm. “Go. Away.”
Taylor looked from Guy’s eyes to his arm to the general size of him and abandoned his stool. “That’s what I thought,” Guy muttered as he took the stool and flagged down the bartender.
“Not supposed to be drinking,” Kyle slurred. “Doc said you have to wait until she clears you.”
“Watch me care,” Guy said. He nodded his thanks to the bartender and took a swig of his beer, sighing in pleasure as he swallowed. “I am never going ten weeks without a beer again.”
“You’re not supposed to be having one now.” Kyle reached for the beer, but Guy held it out of his reach and gave Kyle an experimental shove. Kyle teetered but managed to hold himself upright.
“So, not completely drunk.”
“No.” Kyle slumped over his beer again.
Guy took another drink of his beer and squinted at the menu on the bar.
“Put on your glasses,” Kyle said.
“No.”
“Doc says your headaches won’t be as bad if you wear your glasses.”
“Common sense says you won’t drink yourself into a coma if you admit Alex left.”
They lapsed into silence. Kyle slammed the bottom half of his beer and flagged down the bartender for another. “Who told you?”
“No one. I’m a detective, you ass.” Guy watched Kyle stare down into his fresh beer. “I’ve also been where you are.”
“Tora?”
“Yup. Can’t say I blame her. I know how much I work and how much of it I drag home with me. Still drank myself into the worst stupor since college.” Guy put his elbows on the bar and looked at Kyle. “So, what the hell happened?”
“He left,” Kyle said. He reached for his beer, but Guy swiped it away. “Hey!”
“You’ve had enough.”
“Give me back my beer, Guy.”
“We are talking this shit out,” Guy said.
“I’m going to punch you in the neck.”
“No, you’re—” Guy threw up his arm to block when Kyle swung. He waited out the three seconds before Kyle’s face started to fall. “Good, that’s out of your system. Let’s go.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“We’ll talk about it in the cab.” Guy put money on the bar to cover their beers and hauled Kyle off of his stool. Kyle came along meekly, head hanging low. He didn’t say anything as Guy hailed a cab and piled him into it.
“All his stuff was gone,” Kyle said. “He left a note taped to the fridge.” He thumped his head against the window and closed his eyes. “He’s moving to Central City, and he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Give him a few weeks,” Guy said.
“He’s gone. He said—” Kyle’s eyes flew open, and he looked at Guy.
“What?” Guy asked. Kyle didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “What’d he say?” Guy pressed because Kyle wouldn’t stop watching him.
“He blamed the job,” Kyle said. “And he said—” The cab slammed to a halt, and Kyle bounced against the partition. “The hell?” he snapped.
“Here,” the cabbie said, not turning around.
“No kidding,” Guy mumbled, handing the fare through the window in the partition and stepping from the cab. He grabbed Kyle’s arm and hauled him out when he stumbled over his feet in the footwell. “You’re drunker than you think.”
“Probably,” Kyle agreed. He leaned against Guy for a few seconds, mouth next to Guy’s cheek.
“You gonna yak?” Guy asked.
“No.” Kyle kissed him.
5. Cops are Sometimes Secretly Fond of Each Other
“Um…” Kyle said three days later. Guy had been in court for the last two, and Kyle had been out on calls with Vath while Isamot had recovered from a bad head cold.
“Hey,” Guy said as he sat at his desk. He eyed the cup of coffee Kyle placed next to his hand. “How long you been holding onto that?”
Kyle shifted from foot to foot. “Awhile,” he admitted as he sunk into the chair next to Guy’s desk. He usually just parked himself on the edge. “I am really, really embarrassed.”
“It wasn’t all that bad,” Guy said.
Kyle raised his eyebrows. “It wasn’t?”
Guy shrugged. He glanced around the squadroom and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It was kind of stupid, but it wasn’t bad. I’d rather not do it again until you deal with the whole Alex side of things.”
“Yeah, you have a—wait. What.” Kyle blinked a few times while Guy just watched him placidly. “Wait. I thought you—”
“What?” Guy asked when Kyle didn’t continue.
“Tora,” Kyle said. He grimaced. “You’ve only ever mentioned her, so I figured…” He made a vague hand gesture.
“Feel like an ass?” Guy asked, swallowing back a laugh.
“Yeah.”
“More than you did five minutes ago?”
“No.”
“I know I could have told you, but I didn’t because I didn’t see the point. You were with Alex, and I don’t break up relationships.”
“Wait, are you saying—”
“Not for a long damn while,” Guy interrupted. “But I’m open to the possibility once you’re done handling the shit that has to be handled.”
Kyle took a drink of his coffee and stared down at his hands. “I need to talk to him,” he said. “I need to try and explain myself.”
“What’s to explain?”
“He accused me of putting the job ahead of him, and…I did. I’m not proud I did it, but I did it, and I have to try and explain it to him.”
“I won’t try to talk you out of it,” Guy said. “And I’ll buy the first round when you want to dissect how it all went horribly wrong.”
“You’ll do that? Even with…”
“You’re my partner,” Guy said. “What the fuck else am I gonna do?”
“Thanks,” Kyle said, standing up and moving to his own desk.
“Whatever,” Guy replied, and they settled down to work.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Green Lantern Corps
Pairing: Kyle/M, Guy/Kyle
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Title says it all. Consider it a sequel to Just Two Dicks.
Dis: Lies and bullshit.
Author's Notes: For
lasergirl, per her holiday ficlet request. It got kinda long for a ficlet, but I doubt you care, hon. And beautifully betaed by dytabytes, who figured out I can't spell anyone's name right on the first try.5 Moments in the Life of Two Dicks
By Perpetual Motion
1. I am the Warrior. (Bang. Bang.)
"Gardner!" Lieutenant Kilowog hollered as he walked towards Guy and Kyle's shared double-wide desk. "Last I checked, I still required ties on my detectives."
"I'm still wrapped," Guy replied, holding up his left arm, which was swathed in bandages from his fingertips to the middle of his forearm. "I can barely button my shirt right now."
"I allow clip ons in extenuating circumstances."
"No, offense, Loo, but I'd rather eat my shoes. Clip ons are for dorks at debate tournaments whose mommies forgot to teach them the basics of being a man."
"Their mommies?" The Lieutenant asked.
"My dad was only useful for learning to dodge a punch."
"Ah," The Lieuteant said. "So, how'd you get that?" He gestured to Guy's wrapped hand.
"What are the current bets?"
"Ask your partner. He's keeping the pool."
Guy swiveled in his chair and hollered towards Kyle, who was across the room pouring them coffee. "Rayner!"
"What?" Kyle hollered back without turning around.
"What are the guesses for my horrible injury?"
Kyle walked to the desk, putting Guy's coffee cup next to his uninjured hand. "Three people are insistent it's a jerk-off injury. Two think you fell in the shower, and five think you got your ass kicked by a mystery girlfriend."
"I don't have a girlfriend."
"I tried to tell people that, but no one believes me," Kyle said as the Lieutenat said, "How are you still not dating after Tora? It's been years. For hell's sake, Gardner; move on."
"Wait." Kyle looked between Guy and Kilowog. "Who's Tora?"
"My ex," Guy ground out, shifting in his chair, not liking the way the tone of the conversation was going/moving/changing. "It's not a big deal. It's just--"
"How long have you been broken up?" Kyle asked.
Guy worked his jaw back and forth. He glanced at the Lieutenant, but Kilowog just shook his head. "A couple of years," Guy finally admitted.
"Two-and-a-half," the Lieutenant corrected.
"And how does Loo know about her and I don't?" Kyle asked.
Guy stared down at his hands. "He just does."
"He got transferred here because he slugged her fiance," Kilowog said.
"Hey!" Guy protested. "Thought that was under your hat, Loo!"
"Rayner, tell Guy rule number two."
"No secrets from your partner," Kyle said, glowering a bit at Guy.
"I thought there was one rule," Guy said. "And that one was do your goddamned job and don't be a douche."
"Rayner lost his last partner because he was honest," Kilowog explained. "We decided to implement a second rule."
"Thanks for letting me know," Guy drawled with heavy sarcasm.
"Says the man who didn't mention his ex-girlfriend who caused him to transfer," Kyle retorted.
"Tora did not cause me to transfer," Guy said slowly. "I caused myself to transfer because I did something fuck stupid. Don't confuse the two."
Kyle blinked. He looked at the Lieutenant, and Kilowog merely shrugged. "Sound advice," he said. "You still need a tie, Gardner," he added as he turned on his heel and walked back to his office.
"He's really into those ties, huh?"
"He argues it's part of the don't-be-a-douche mandate," Kyle explained. He reached into the bottom drawer on his side of the desk and pulled out a dark blue tie. He looped it around his own neck and made a loose knot. He slipped it back over his head and handed it over to Guy.
"Thanks," Guy said, maneuvering the tie over his head and settling it under his collar, pulling it tight with one hand. "How's that?"
"You mind?" Kyle asked, reaching out.
Guy tilted his head back, and Kyle straightened his tie and adjusted his collar. "My father was a rampantly abusive asshole," Guy said in an undertone. "I spent a lot of time trying not to be him. Tora helped with that. She's one of those genuinely sweet people who thinks most everyone is decent. I wanted her to be right, so I tried even harder, and eventually it stopped being me trying and just became me."
Kyle leaned back and crossed his arms. "And then you slugged her fiance, which kind of felt like it was all a huge mess."
"Pretty much." Guy rubbed his good hand over his jaw. "I wasn't proud of it even when I did it. I just saw them together being so happy, and I...I kind of blanked. One second, I'm standing up to grit out a congratulations speech, and the next thing I know, he's on the ground, and Tora's saying some unsightly things in Norwegian."
"Norwegian?"
"She's from Norway. I...um...I learned to speak it to impress her."
Kyle grinned. "She must really be something."
"Yeah..." Guy fiddled with his tie. "I didn't mention it because it's an embarrassment, and I didn't want you to think I was some kind of fuck up you couldn't trust to keep his head out his ass."
"I shouldn't have jumped on you like that," Kyle replied. "I just get twitchy about not knowing stuff about my partner, since my last one bailed on me for fear of catching the gay."
Guy leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the desk. "I'm not gonna lose my shit over it, okay?"
"I figured, since you're still here, but still--"
"Twitchy."
"Yeah."
Guy scratched the back of his neck and looked down at his bandaged arm. "No secrets, huh?"
"That's the hope." Kyle looked around them then reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a battered notebook. "Here," he said. "Just keep it low."
Guy took the notebook with a raised eyebrow. Kyle was turning red, looking anywhere but Guy. He flipped open the notebook, expecting to see case notes and a few scene sketches. Instead there were sketches of actual things and people. The squad room in overblown perspective, their desk huge and foreboding, the rest fading into miniature. Lieutenant Kilowog leaning against the door to his office, huge arms and chest defined through careful shading. Pictures of the other detectives: Vath and Isamot mid-argument. Iolande in a skirt and jacket, looking more like visiting royalty than a detective. Chip and Gnort laughing over something in a case report.
"These are really good," Guy said as he finished flipping through. "You did these?"
"Yeah. I took a lot of art classes as a kid. My mom wanted me to be well-rounded, and I liked them, but there's no money in it if you don't have a trust fund or a wealthy dowager."
Guy handed back the notebook and looked at his bandaged hand. "I found a cat in the alley next to my building the other day. It smelled like rotted death and was completely pitiful, so I took it to the vet, got it industrial flea dipped and got all its shots, and then I took it home. Woke up the next day just as the fucker bit the hell out of me." He held up his wrapped hand. "Six stitches, and the psycho was asleep on the back of the sofa when I left this morning."
Kyle grinned. "Seriously?"
"Yup."
Kyle's grin widened. "What's his name?"
"Dex," Guy muttered, and he rolled his eyes when Kyle swallowed back a laugh. "So there you go," he said. "You're gay. I have a dark and terrible past. You're secretly an artist, and I'm one of those soft-hearted assholes who keeps strays around who chew my damned hand off."
"And the cat's still in one piece?"
"Of course!" Guy squinted when Kyle grinned again. "What?"
"Nothing," Kyle said, though he was thinking that Guy probably worried way too much about becoming some serious stripe of abusive asshole if he hadn't immediately harmed that cat. "It's good to get the air cleared. Just tell me, is Tora off-limits?"
Guy thought for a moment. "I dunno. Sometimes, I like talking about her, but sometimes I don't even want to think about her."
"I can work with that. Just tell me to cram it if I cross the line."
"Back at you," Guy said, and they shook on it.
2. I Fought the Law (and the Law Won)
"Okay, here's how it goes," Guy said as he flopped down in the chair across from their suspect. "You say you didn't do it--"
"I didn't!" The suspect yelled.
"Yeah, that's a great story, but here's the thing, fuck-for-brains: We've got you on tape at the ATM. You were holding a crowbar. The ATM was whaled open with a crowbar. If I draw that line any straighter, I can hang my damned laundry on it."
"I didn't do it!" The suspect yelled again.
"Uh-huh."
"I didn't!"
Guy opened his mouth to retort, but the door to the interrogation room opened, and Kyle walked in, shaking his head.
"Bad news," he said, giving Guy a rueful look. "He didn't whale on the ATM."
The suspect sagged back against his chair. "I was trying to tell him that!"
"You have to yell pretty loud to get through to him," Kyle said. "Sometimes, it takes hours."
"Up yours," Guy grumbled, crossing his arms. "Did you just show up to tell me the pissant gets to go home?"
Kyle looked at the suspect, who was sitting up straight, eagerness to leave clear on his face. "Did I say that?" He asked, and the suspect's face fell.
"What?!" The guy yelled. "You just said I didn't whale on the ATM!"
"I did," Kyle agreed. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a photograph, tossing it on the table. "Didn't say anything about the getaway car."
The photograph was blurred at the edges, but the suspect's face was clearly defined. He was in profile, glaring out the windshield, the ruined ATM just visible at the edge of the photo.
"Shit."
"Lemme guess," Guy said, smirking, "it's not you, huh?"
"Before you answer that," Kyle said as the suspect opened his mouth, "consider that you robbed an ATM, which is owned by a bank, which makes this federal if we want it to be."
"I kinda want it to be," Guy said. "I don't like lying assholes getting off easy."
"That's a good point," Kyle agreed, "but if he wants to give us useful information so we can stop having to chase down him and his crowbar buddy, I wouldn't mind quite as much."
"Maybe," Guy agreed slowly, running a hand over his chin. "Depends how much he could give us."
"You thinking we don't let him off easy if the info is light?"
"He's a lying little fuck-for-brains. I don't think he actually knows too much."
"Hey!" the suspect yelled. Guy and Kyle ignored him.
"He could probably give us a name, at least."
"No one's gonna trust fuck-for-brains with an actual name. He's probably just got a list of fakes."
"I do not!" the suspect snapped. He went red in the face, glaring at the both of them. "I know stuff!"
Guy turned to face him, slow and predatory. "What kind of stuff?"
It took three minutes and four names for the suspect to realize he'd been had. He clenched his jaw shut for a second. "Fuckers," he muttered. "I want my goddamned lawyer."
"That's Detective Fuckers," Guy told him as he stood up and followed Kyle out of the room. "Lawyer will be here in awhile."
"Fuckers," the suspect called after them, but Guy didn't correct him again.
"I don't think I will ever stop being amazed at the stupidity of criminals," Kyle said as Guy pulled out his cell to call legal aid. "One of them has to not fall for that 'you're-an-idiot-and-you-wanna-prove-you're-not' shtick. Right?"
"Law of averages says it has to happen sometime," Guy agreed, tapping his fingers against his phone as he waited for someone to pick up.
"Probably not anytime soon," Kyle mused, and Guy grunted in agreement as they walked into the squad room.
3. Hole in My Head (Hole in My Head)
Alex was asleep in the hospital bed when Kyle's cell rang. Kyle let go of Alex's hand--fingertips wrapped in bandages where Alex had clawed at the inside of the fridge door--and answered his phone without checking the caller ID.
"Rayner."
There was a pause, and Kyle started to pull the phone away to hang up when a rasp came over the line. "Force in a warehouse."
"What?" Kyle pulled the phone away from his ear. The caller ID said it was Guy. "Guy?"
"Warehouse on 87th," and now Kyle could recognize Guy's voice through the rasp.
"Guy, what happened?"
"Warehouse on--" there was a muffled yell, a reverberating thud, and half-mumbled swearing before the line went dead.
"Guy!" Kyle yelled. Alex jerked awake with an incoherent yelp. "Shit," Kyle muttered as he reached for Alex.
Alex jerked away. "No!" He screamed. "Get away! I don't know where Kyle is!"
"Alex," Kyle said, trying to keep his voice calm as he tried to stop the other man from flailing. "Alex, it's me. It's Kyle."
"I don't know where Kyle is!"
A nurse rushed into the room. She shoved Kyle aside with a well-placed hip snap. "I need you to step outside, Sir."
"He's my boyfriend!" Kyle yelled as Alex flailed again and scraped his abused hands against the rail.
"He's still in shock and isn't aware of his surroundings, Sir. I need you to step outside."
"But I--" Kyle's phone rang again, and he scrambled to take the call when he saw it was Guy again. "Guy!"
"Sir, I need you--"
"Force is dead," Guy said. There was a loopy note in his voice that made Kyle completely tune out the nurse who was still trying to make him leave the room while Alex moaned, his face pressed against the pillow.
"Think I'm injured," Guy said, voice up half an octave. "Tell Alex it's okay. Tell him that bastard's in piec--hey, I think I'm passing out."
There was a thump and a clatter and Kyle felt the same cold fear slam into him that had paralyzed him when he'd gotten the threat from Force about Alex and an old refrigerator. Guy was in trouble, Kyle knew. Big, big trouble. He ran out of Alex's room, dialing dispatch as he pitched himself down the stairs, just barely keeping his feet under him.
"Dispatch."
"This is Rayner. I need an ambulance and patrol cars to the warehouse district on 87th. Detective Gardner is down in the area. Tell whoever gets there first to organize the search. I'm headed that way now."
"Warehouse district on 87th. Ambulance and all available. Anything else, Detective?"
"Get word to Lieutenant Kilowog."
"Will do."
"10-4," Kyle said and closed his phone. He yanked his keys out of his pocket as he full-out ran for his car in the garage. He dropped his keys as he tried to put them into the ignition, and as he reached down to retrieve them, the last forty-eight hours slammed to the front of his mind. The taunting call from Force with vague instructions to a warehouse filled with old refrigerators. Kyle and Guy had split the search, and Kyle had been the one to find Alex, panicked and wild-eyed. His bloody fingertips had stained Kyle's shirt and tie. Guy pulling Kyle away when the paramedics showed up. Guy swearing to find Force as Kyle sat next to Alex's bedside and wondered if he was to blame.
"The only one responsible for this is the sick fuck who just did it," Guy had said, clapping Kyle on the shoulder. "Alex knows that."
Now, breathing deep to calm his shaking hands, Kyle wondered if Alex really did know or if Alex's reaction to him was the beginning of the end.
When he turned onto 87th, he spotted a growing collection of squad cars around a single warehouse. He screeched to a halt and jumped out of his car. As he ran towards the officer who seemed to be in charge, he heard an ambulance siren coming close.
"We're searching with two officers per building," the officer in charge said to Kyle before he could ask anything. "I've got ten officers searching right now and more coming this way."
Kyle checked the map. Five buildings were slashed through, each of them at a different part of the street. A wide sweep, then. He thought about Guy's falling-off voice and knew in his gut they had to lessen the radius. There's got to be something he can do. Guy's the tactical mind of their partnership.
What would Guy do? Kyle wondered for a second. if Kyle were possibly bleeding out from a gut wound and had called Guy with his last of effort, Guy would figure out a way to--
"Does anyone have a parabolic microphone?" Kyle asked. The officer looked at him, confusion all over his face.
"What?"
"We need a parabolic mike." Kyle yanked his cell out of his pocket. "We're going to use it to listen for Guy's phone, and it's going to tell us which building he's in. Find me a parabolic mike."
The officer pulled his radio up to his mouth while Kyle dialed Guy's number. "We're gonna find you," Kyle muttered as Guy's phone clicked to voicemail.
He was on his fourth try when the officer ran up, a parabolic microphone in one hand and headphones in the other. "We're going to walk it," Kyle said, jogging to the end of the block. "If we don't hear it here, we go to the next block. Keep the other officers in a search pattern."
"Already sent the order," the officer said as he slipped the headphones over one ear, flipped the switch to turn on the microphone, and fell into step next to Kyle.
There wasn't even a ping on the first block. "Want me to call back the men?" the officer asked.
"No, they're the failsafe. In case we missed it somehow." Kyle redialed and crossed the street to the next block.
"I've got it!" The officer shouted as they slowly paced back and forth in front of the fourth building on block two. "He's in there somewhere."
"Get everyone over here," Kyle ordered. He glanced down at himself, dressed in jeans and a blue shirt. "And get me a vest. We're going in full charge."
"Yes, Sir," the officer said and called in the order. The other officers were in place in less than two minutes, some running full tilt from the far end of the other block. One man tossed him a vest, and Kyle strapped it on, thumping his knuckles against it like he'd seen Guy do.
"Listen up," he barked, and the men fell silent from their murmured conversations. "We've got a man down in there. He told me he got Force, but I want us going in like he didn't. For those of you who may have just pulled up, we're looking for Detective Guy Gardner. Questions before we count off?"
No one said anything, so Kyle broke everyone into teams of two and led the charge into the building. He went in the front door, gun out and pointed at head level. People started calling "Clear!" Over the radios almost instantly. They worked their way up--a team on the elevator, a team on the stairs, two two keeping the ground floor secure. Kyle's blood rushed in his ears. His hands were steady, but he could feel his heart slamming hard in his chest.
"Got him!" An officer almost-yelled into his radio. "I've got Detective Gardner, third floor, second door on the left," he said in a calmer voice. "And Detective Gardner definitely got Force. We're gonna need the meat wagon."
"For which one?" Kyle barked.
"Just Force," the officer replied. "Sorry, detective. I didn't mean--"
"Call it in," Kyle interrupted him and ran up the stairs, shouldering aside other officers on the third-floor landing to get down the hallway first. He stopped in the second doorway and stared at the scene, not quite believing what he was seeing. Force was definitely dead, the puddle of blood around him proof of that as much as the numerous holes dead center in his chest. Guy was halfway across the room, face down, blood caking his hair and the floor around his head. The officer who'd found him was checking his pulse.
"Good pulse," he told Kyle as the paramedics shoved Kyle aside to get in with their gurney.
Kyle couldn't find the words to respond. He stood to one side, just inside the room, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do.
"Rayner!" Lieutenant Kilowog's voice boomed down the hallway. "Rayner, where the hell are you?"
Kyle swallowed hard and pushed off the wall. "Here, Loo!" he called, stepping around the doorway so the Lieutenant could see him. "Right here."
"Any holes in you?"
"No, sir."
"Good." Kilowog clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to make him rock back on his heels. "Now, get the hell out."
"What?"
"Rayner, your partner's in the hospital, and your other partner is about to be, and they're both there because of the dead ass in the corner. You stay around much longer, Poozer, you blow my scene and my case. Get out." It was said with gruff affection, but Kilowog's shove between his shoulder blades was anything but kind. "Ride in with Guy. Someone's gonna have to yell him down from taking a swing when he comes to in the hospital."
"Yes, sir." Kyle mumbled. He walked down the stairs and out to the ambulance, leaning against the back bumper to wait for the paramedics to make it down. His phone rang, and he thumped his head against the ambulance doors as he pulled it from his pocket. "Rayner," he answered.
"Kyle?" Alex's voice was lighter than usual. "I woke up, and you weren't here."
"I thought you were sedated," Kyle answered, and he wondered if he could kick himself in the mouth. "That's not--"
"I think I'm still a little out of it," Alex replied. "But I woke up, and you weren't here."
"I'm sorry. There was..." Kyle wondered how much to tell. Alex could fall into another panic attack if he told him everything. "Guy's been injured," he said. "I'm going to ride back to the hospital with him in a few minutes, and I'll come up to see you."
"You weren't here when I woke up," Alex said again, and there was a muffled thump.
"Alex?" Kyle asked.
"I'm tired," Alex said. He sounded far away, like the phone had fallen, and he couldn't be bothered to retrieve it.
"Go back to sleep," Kyle said. "I'll be there soon."
"You weren't here," Alex said again.
"Alex," Kyle said, but the paramedics came out the front door. "I'll be there soon," Kyle said. He didn't hear any reply, but he could hear Alex breathing the steady breathing of someone asleep.
"You riding along?" one of the paramedics asked.
"Yeah," Kyle said. He stepped aside to let them maneuver in the gurney and followed after it. Guy was face up, still unconscious. There were bruises already forming on his face and arms. He had a jagged cut down one arm that had been taped up with butterfly stitches. Kyle wondered what others scar he’d have by the time everything was accounted for at the hospital.
4. Punch. Fight. Fuck.
“Hi.” The guy who sat down to Kyle’s left was toothpaste ad good looking with strawberry blonde hair and annoyingly white teeth.
“Go away,” Kyle said, more into his beer than at the guy.
“I’m Taylor.”
“Go—”
“Spoken for.” Guy interrupted as he walked up to the bar.
“No, I’m—”
“Fine, I was gonna try to save you some face, but fuck it,” Guy said to him before turning to Taylor. “He just got his ass dumped. He’s here to get drunk as shit and do something regrettable.”
Taylor shrugged. “He’s cute. I’m okay with that.”
Guy leaned in close and propped his bare forearm on the bar so Taylor could see the still-raw scar on his arm. “Go. Away.”
Taylor looked from Guy’s eyes to his arm to the general size of him and abandoned his stool. “That’s what I thought,” Guy muttered as he took the stool and flagged down the bartender.
“Not supposed to be drinking,” Kyle slurred. “Doc said you have to wait until she clears you.”
“Watch me care,” Guy said. He nodded his thanks to the bartender and took a swig of his beer, sighing in pleasure as he swallowed. “I am never going ten weeks without a beer again.”
“You’re not supposed to be having one now.” Kyle reached for the beer, but Guy held it out of his reach and gave Kyle an experimental shove. Kyle teetered but managed to hold himself upright.
“So, not completely drunk.”
“No.” Kyle slumped over his beer again.
Guy took another drink of his beer and squinted at the menu on the bar.
“Put on your glasses,” Kyle said.
“No.”
“Doc says your headaches won’t be as bad if you wear your glasses.”
“Common sense says you won’t drink yourself into a coma if you admit Alex left.”
They lapsed into silence. Kyle slammed the bottom half of his beer and flagged down the bartender for another. “Who told you?”
“No one. I’m a detective, you ass.” Guy watched Kyle stare down into his fresh beer. “I’ve also been where you are.”
“Tora?”
“Yup. Can’t say I blame her. I know how much I work and how much of it I drag home with me. Still drank myself into the worst stupor since college.” Guy put his elbows on the bar and looked at Kyle. “So, what the hell happened?”
“He left,” Kyle said. He reached for his beer, but Guy swiped it away. “Hey!”
“You’ve had enough.”
“Give me back my beer, Guy.”
“We are talking this shit out,” Guy said.
“I’m going to punch you in the neck.”
“No, you’re—” Guy threw up his arm to block when Kyle swung. He waited out the three seconds before Kyle’s face started to fall. “Good, that’s out of your system. Let’s go.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“We’ll talk about it in the cab.” Guy put money on the bar to cover their beers and hauled Kyle off of his stool. Kyle came along meekly, head hanging low. He didn’t say anything as Guy hailed a cab and piled him into it.
“All his stuff was gone,” Kyle said. “He left a note taped to the fridge.” He thumped his head against the window and closed his eyes. “He’s moving to Central City, and he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Give him a few weeks,” Guy said.
“He’s gone. He said—” Kyle’s eyes flew open, and he looked at Guy.
“What?” Guy asked. Kyle didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “What’d he say?” Guy pressed because Kyle wouldn’t stop watching him.
“He blamed the job,” Kyle said. “And he said—” The cab slammed to a halt, and Kyle bounced against the partition. “The hell?” he snapped.
“Here,” the cabbie said, not turning around.
“No kidding,” Guy mumbled, handing the fare through the window in the partition and stepping from the cab. He grabbed Kyle’s arm and hauled him out when he stumbled over his feet in the footwell. “You’re drunker than you think.”
“Probably,” Kyle agreed. He leaned against Guy for a few seconds, mouth next to Guy’s cheek.
“You gonna yak?” Guy asked.
“No.” Kyle kissed him.
5. Cops are Sometimes Secretly Fond of Each Other
“Um…” Kyle said three days later. Guy had been in court for the last two, and Kyle had been out on calls with Vath while Isamot had recovered from a bad head cold.
“Hey,” Guy said as he sat at his desk. He eyed the cup of coffee Kyle placed next to his hand. “How long you been holding onto that?”
Kyle shifted from foot to foot. “Awhile,” he admitted as he sunk into the chair next to Guy’s desk. He usually just parked himself on the edge. “I am really, really embarrassed.”
“It wasn’t all that bad,” Guy said.
Kyle raised his eyebrows. “It wasn’t?”
Guy shrugged. He glanced around the squadroom and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It was kind of stupid, but it wasn’t bad. I’d rather not do it again until you deal with the whole Alex side of things.”
“Yeah, you have a—wait. What.” Kyle blinked a few times while Guy just watched him placidly. “Wait. I thought you—”
“What?” Guy asked when Kyle didn’t continue.
“Tora,” Kyle said. He grimaced. “You’ve only ever mentioned her, so I figured…” He made a vague hand gesture.
“Feel like an ass?” Guy asked, swallowing back a laugh.
“Yeah.”
“More than you did five minutes ago?”
“No.”
“I know I could have told you, but I didn’t because I didn’t see the point. You were with Alex, and I don’t break up relationships.”
“Wait, are you saying—”
“Not for a long damn while,” Guy interrupted. “But I’m open to the possibility once you’re done handling the shit that has to be handled.”
Kyle took a drink of his coffee and stared down at his hands. “I need to talk to him,” he said. “I need to try and explain myself.”
“What’s to explain?”
“He accused me of putting the job ahead of him, and…I did. I’m not proud I did it, but I did it, and I have to try and explain it to him.”
“I won’t try to talk you out of it,” Guy said. “And I’ll buy the first round when you want to dissect how it all went horribly wrong.”
“You’ll do that? Even with…”
“You’re my partner,” Guy said. “What the fuck else am I gonna do?”
“Thanks,” Kyle said, standing up and moving to his own desk.
“Whatever,” Guy replied, and they settled down to work.
no subject
on 2011-12-13 02:30 pm (UTC)Jeepers woman I love you. I really needed this, the last couple of months have been trying their damndest to kill me and I am so. fucking. unhappy. and this made it all go away for a bit.
♥♥♥
no subject
on 2011-12-13 09:41 pm (UTC)Do you need talking time? I'm packing and shit this afternoon, and I would be happy to meet you on Skype. You can keep my company!