by Lisa Worrall
"Pop, come on." Scott's stomach was now filling with a thousand anxious butterflies. He knew that look on his father's face and, fueled by alcohol, there was no telling what kind of scene Paul would create. "Let's just play the game, okay?"
Paul turned cold blue eyes on Scott and his lips curled into a sneer. "You telling me what to do, boy? When did you get so big for your breeches that you thought you could tell me what to do?"
"Pop—"
"No, come on, hotshot. Fill me in." Paul waved his beer bottle perilously close to Scott's face. "I wanna know when you decided you could tell me what to do!"
Scott flinched as the beer bottle in his father's hand was slammed onto the pool table. His gaze scanned the room and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment to find they were the center of attention—as they usually were when Paul had too much to drink. "I just meant—"
"Been listening to your mother again, boy? Do you think I'll listen to you any more than I listen to her?" Paul's face grew red in anger as he snarled at Scott. "What is it? Huh? Sticking up for the queers? Hoping to get a little kiss, are you?"
"Dad, please," Scott tried to reason, keeping his tone calm. His gaze widened when he saw Jake push himself away from the bar and walk toward them. Fuck! No! He could see the concern on Jake's face and while a part of him was grateful for it, the greater part wanted him to stop his approach and just turn away, pretend he hadn't heard a single word. He shook his head quickly at Jake and his heart sank like a stone to the bottom of the lake behind their house. Paul Turner had seen the gesture.
"Do you know him?" His gaze flitted between Jake and his son. "Do you know this faggot?"
Scott felt the blood drain from his face as quickly as realization flooded his father's. He didn't need to utter a word. Paul knew. He stood, frozen to the spot as his father approached him—afraid, but unwavering, even when Paul Turner spat in his face and stormed from the bar.
Paul Turner had barely spoken to Scott again in the remaining year he spent at home before entering the police academy. His face held no pride when his son shook the dust of their town from his feet and left for the city, only contempt and disappointment. Paul had died three years later, having never repaired the damage his bigotry had caused to their relationship.
Grace was his second partner since Scott had come to work in homicide, and he'd waited six months before he'd told her he was gay. His previous partner, John Norton, had been a dyed in the wool redneck, with three daughters and two sons, who came from a background where gays in the department would not be tolerated. Scott had decided his working life would not have been worth living if John had known where his preference really lay. But Grace, Grace had been different. From the start he felt as though they'd known each other their whole lives. The longer they spent together, the fewer reasons he could find not to tell her. He trusted her with his life and knew that she understood his reasoning and would hold onto his secret until the day she died.
Scott was brought back to the here and now by the plastic cup dropping into the tray as the machine whirred into life and filled the cup with coffee. He stared at the steady stream of black liquid and blinked, not realizing he had even pressed the buttons. Picking up the coffee, he hissed when some of the hot liquid spilled on his fingers.
But now—now the shit was going to hit the fan. Now he was supposed to pretend to be in love with Will 'I'm built like a Greek God' Harrison? How did he convince complete strangers he wanted the man mountain? He sighed heavily and headed back to his desk. Convincing them wouldn't be the difficult part. The difficult part would be not being too convincing.
This was never going to work.
Two hours later, Scott looked up from his computer screen to find Grace and Julie standing beside his desk. Grace was holding a pizza box and Julie was holding a large A4 notepad. "What?" he asked, blinking owlishly at them.
"The four of us are going into the boardroom where it's nice and quiet, so we can hash out your story," Julie smiled, her eyes twinkling with glee, which was not a good sign as far as Scott concerned.
"My what?" Scott said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He'd been staring at the screen for so long, a decided ache had settled behind his eyes. By the look on the women’s faces, it was only going to get worse.
Grace grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, Turner. We need to put our heads together and get your cover story straight. You too, Harrison. We're gonna sort out the Will and Scott big gay love story."
Scott glanced over at Will as he re-entered the department with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Gracie, come on," he complained, "we've still got eight depositions to get on the database."
"The cap has given them to Brown and Logan, no excuses."
Scott's gaze was pleading, and her hand tightened momentarily on his and he was grateful for the reassurance before she followed Julie out of the department. He heaved a sigh, knowing he sounded like a disgruntled five-year-old and rubbed his eye with a closed fist for good measure. Stomping across the room and down the hall after the two women, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew they were gonna have way too much fun with this. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Will fall into step beside him, the man's stance mirroring his own—shoulders slumped, feet falling heavily on the tiled floor. At least he looks as happy about it as I do.
"Okay," Julie drew the word out for effect. "You two will have absolutely no problem convincing people that you're the love of each other's life. No problem whatsoever." Her tone oozed sarcasm as she looked from one to the other.
Will's expression showed his discontent and Scott could only imagine that his was a mirror image. He lifted his feet and stretched his legs out, resting them on the table, wishing she would stop gloating and get on with it already.
"Just get on with it."
Scott's gaze flitted to Will across the table and he swallowed down the chuckle bubbling in his throat. They were definitely on the same wavelength with this thing. Which certainly made a change. He tried to ignore the way the short spikes of Will's hair slipped through the man's fingers as he ran a hand through them and cleared his throat, turning his attention to Julie. "Um… we need to keep it short and plausible. What sort of questions are we going to be asked?"
Grace took a slice of pizza from the box and pushed it toward the center of the table. Scott waited, he'd like to say patiently, but he'd be lying, while she scanned the sheet of paper in front of her and chewed thoughtfully on her pizza. Finally, she mumbled around her food, "A ton of boring stuff. How you first met, how long you've been together, what you do for a living, when did you know he was 'the one'?" She swallowed the bite of pizza she'd been masticating and frowned. "What the fuck do they wanna know that for? You wanna move into a house, not join the Romance Writers of America." Her gaze carried on down the rest of the list and Scott frowned when her pink glossed mouth dropped open in surprise.
"What?" Julie beat him to the question as she leaned forward in her chair and picked up another slice of pie to accompany the one he'd just watched her inhale.
"They want to know who the top is and who's the bottom?" Gracie's tone was incredulous, and she gazed at Scott in stunned amazement. "How the hell do they get normal, sane people to answer these questions in an interview to rent a house?"
"I'm guessing they can ask whatever the hell they want," Scott replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose again as his headache intensified. "Every gay couple with enough money in New York is trying to get into the five houses in Laurel Heights, plus they want to make sure they have the right kind of person living behind those security gates. Someone who is open, liberal, and not gonna pass out if one of the neighbors turns up on the doorstep wearing a cock ring and a smile."
"Nice," Julie said, screwing up her nose, bringing a smile to Scott's lips as she tossed her half-eaten pizza slice back into the box and grumbled. "Now I have a vision in my head of old Mr Lannerman who lives next door coming to borrow a cup of sugar, and it won't go away."
<
br /> Scott chuckled at the look on her face and reached for a slice of pizza. He didn't exactly have much of an appetite, but his stomach had other ideas as it rumbled beneath his ribs. Rolling his eyes as Will knocked on the surface of the table, he slid the box across to the other man. "Can we hurry this along? I had a late night and I wanna get home."
"Who was the lucky ho last night?" Will said sarcastically around a mouthful of melted cheese. "Or were there so many you can't keep track?"
"Aww, missing the little woman? At least I was with someone, Captain Masturbation," Scott shot back, annoyed by the tone in Will's voice. "If Amanda doesn't get back from her course soon, you'll have to see the doc about the calluses on your palms."
"Boys, boys, boys," Grace admonished. "Don't make me turn your chairs to face the wall. Suck it up. Two men are dead. Can't you two put aside your bitching for five minutes?"
Scott ducked his head and mumbled a sorry for their insensitivity and he heard Will do the same. The girls were right. This was serious and they were prepping for an assignment, no matter how bizarre it might be. He was a cop for God's sake. Trained to go deep undercover. He could put his own feelings aside and get with the program. Hell, wasn't that what he'd been doing for years?
"Good," Julie said, turning over the cover of her notepad. "Okay, I'm gonna write the story down and then I'm gonna give you both a copy so you can study it before your appointment tomorrow. Jeez, this is going to be so much fun—not. Right, are we sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. How did you first meet? Gracie, what do you think?"
"Well—"
Scott's gaze narrowed when whatever Grace had been going to suggest was cut off as Will piped up, "I was working out in the gym when Scott followed me into the showers and asked me if I wanted to drop the soap." He held his hands up to his chest and clasped them together. "I just knew he was the one for me."
"I think you'll find, sweetums," Scott said, his eyes darkening in irritation. "I was minding my own business as I walked through the park when you called out from behind a bush, 'Hey big boy you wanna suck of my lollipop?' As soon as I saw you in that trench coat, I was a goner." He fluttered his eyelashes at Will and grabbed another slice of pizza. Two could play at that game and he'd been playing longer than Harrison.
"Aww, hunnybun, yet again you've got it wrong," Will replied, his voice dripping with barely disguised anger. "I believe we first met when you were pole-dancing at that strip joint and when you stuck your g-string in my face, you made my heart skip a beat."
"Pumpkin," Scott countered quickly with a sneer. "Didn't we meet at the library? I asked you if you had any books on suckling pigs and you asked me if I wanted to suck your pork."
"All right asshole, that's it!" Will ground out through gritted teeth and jumped out of his chair, much to Scott's amusement as he took in the fists clenched at Will's sides as Will glared down at him. "I'm not fucking working with this amateur."
Scott started when Julie's voice cut across their verbal war, "Shut the fuck up! Both of you!" Julie's angry yell echoed around the room as she stood and banged the notepad down onto the table. "Did you not hear what Gracie said? Two boys are dead! You will sit down, and you will shut up, while we concoct some reason why you two would be together!" Scott had to bite the inside of his cheek when she held her hand up as Will opened his mouth. "Sit!" It was even more amusing when Will immediately sank back into his seat, his arms crossed and a petulant pout on his face. Scott studied Julie from beneath lowered lashes, trying to look suitably chastised as she returned to her chair and said, "You both seem to have a hell of an imagination, so Will can be a writer. Scott, you can be—"
"Annoying, childish, drunk?"
"Shut up, Will," Julie spat and turned her attention to Grace. "What do you think?"
"IT Consultant," Grace said with a smile. "He knows enough about computers to bluff his way through anything anyone asks him. He can say he works freelance, from home and writes software or something. Perfect."
"Okay," Julie scribbled frantically on her notepad. "What kind of books does Will write?"
"Don't we get a say?" Scott griped, watching the girls throw ideas back and forth to each other like a tennis double team.
"No!" They replied in unison and he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms and sure that his face held the same petulant pout as Will's.
"I've got it! Children's books," Grace said, nodding at Scott. "Scott's got a niece. That's how they met. Scott took his niece to one of Will's signings. Their gazes met across the table and it was love at first sight and all that shit. How romantic." She pitched the tone of her voice a little higher on the last word.
"Are you two for real?" Scott spluttered.
"Did I say we were finished?" Julie ground out, scribbling ferociously on her pad. "I'm thinking they've been together for two years. That's long enough to know most things, but not so long that they would be expected to know every tiny detail."
Grace nodded in agreement as Julie continued writing. "Okay, I'm thinking you should bottom, Scott."
"Me?" Scott choked on a piece of pizza and had to wash it down with some water before continuing. Gracie was having way too much fun with this. Her blue eyes positively gleamed. "Why me?"
"Have you seen the size of Will's feet?"
Scott stood and pushed back his chair, ignoring Will and rolling his eyes at the two women who were laughing hysterically. He'd had just about enough and needed to get out before visions of being the bottom to Will's top stiffened his dick any further. "Just write the fucking notes. I'm going home."
"See you later, sweet cheeks," Will drawled, lifting his hand and blowing Scott a kiss.
Scott dealt with the gesture in a mature fashion befitting his age—he flipped him the finger and slammed the door, stomping off down the hall to the elevator. Shaking his head and muttering "Asshole," he stabbed the button for the elevator.
Scott's head was pounding when he rode up in the elevator to the department the following day. His sunglasses weren't quite keeping out the glare of the lights and his stomach rolled as the elevator lurched to a stop. "Fuck," he whimpered when the doors opened, every whir and scrape of metal grating on his over sensitive ears. He made his way to his desk, via the coffee machine, and slid into his chair, resting his head in his hands. Last night had seemed like such a good idea—at the time.
When he'd left the boardroom yesterday, his anger at the situation he found himself in had reached fever pitch and he needed to work it out of his system. Needed to get drunk and hopefully laid, preferably in that order. In the club, he'd enjoyably participated in both when, after five beers, he had found himself in a locked bathroom stall, his hands curled in soft dark hair while the man tried to literally suck Scott's brains out through his cock. Then there had been dancing, a lot more alcohol and Scott bending the muscled young thing over the hood of a car in the alley behind the club. He desperately tried to ignore the fact that if the guy had been a few inches taller and his hair a couple of shades lighter, he could have been Will's double.
Laying his head on his desk, he sighed at how good the cool surface felt against his hot skin. He shouldn't have had those last four shots, and the slice of toast he had forced down his throat for breakfast had not managed to settle his lurching stomach, but only increase his nausea.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Will's voice said from behind him.
"Stop yelling," Scott moaned, not bothering to lift his head, not that he thought he'd be able to if he tried.
"You went out and got drunk the night before we're supposed to go undercover?" Will spat. "You're already four hours late and we've only got two hours to get our story straight. We've got to be at Laurel Heights at three. Are you even conscious?"
"Fuck off. Just get me another coffee. I'll be fine in a minute," Scott said quietly, wincing as Will's voice reverberated through his skull like a thousand shards of glass. He could feel the weight of Will's disapproving gaze on the back of his head and he really
didn't give a shit. Why was the asshole still here? Why wasn't he getting coffee like he asked? How hard could it be? You put the money in, pressed the button, and picked up the cup… surely even Harrison could manage that. Yes, he was aware that going out to drink last night was probably not his most mind-blowingly fabulous idea. He was also aware that being hung-over for the interview at Laurel Heights was low on the good idea list, too. But he'd needed something to stop him from thinking about living with the annoying ass glaring at him now. The great big, beautiful, sex on a stick, annoying ass. "Are you still here?" He mumbled into the table and breathed a sigh of relief at the huff Harrison gave and smiled feebly as the sound of Harrison's footsteps carried him away.
When Will returned from the store twenty minutes later, Scott was in the same position he had left him in. Well, almost. Someone had decided it was a good idea to stick "Got Any Spare Change" to the back of his shirt. Will snorted at the small hill of coins that had accumulated beside Scott's head and curled his fingers around Scott's bicep, hauling him to his feet. "Come on, princess," Will said, and he led Scott from the room.
"Christ, Harrison," Scott hissed, his free hand going to his head. "Warn a guy, would you? Get the fuck off me."
"Sit down and shut up," Will snarled, pushing Scott into a chair in the boardroom and dropping the brown paper bag in his hand onto the table. Walking over to the small cupboard in the corner, Will pulled out two glasses and put them in front of Scott. Opening the bag, Will withdrew a box of eggs and cracked two of them into one glass. He smirked when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scott give a dry heave. Returning his hand to the bag, Will pulled out a carton of Passion Fruit juice and filled the empty glass to the brim with the orangey liquid. "Here, numbnuts." He held the raw eggs out to Scott. "First this and then the Passion Fruit."