School of Fish

by Amy Lane

  “I don’t even get a kiss?” he complained.

  Ellery turned irritated eyes toward him. “Isn’t that my line? Get out and dry off, and I’ll give you a kiss goodbye. But hurry. You don’t want to get caught naked either!”

  Jackson squirted some soap into his hair and tried not to hiss at the cold water.

  “Caught naked by who?” he asked as he soaped his hair and private places.

  “You have delivery men at nine. They’ll be bringing a dresser to put in the far corner against the wall. There’s plenty of room there, but you need to supervise and make sure the cat doesn’t get out.”

  “I know not to let the cat out,” Jackson muttered. “But why are we getting a new dresser? What’s wrong with the old one?”

  “The old one is mine. The new one is yours. You need more clothes.”

  “How can I need more clothes? You keep buying them for me. I’ve got my own section of the closet!”

  “Well, I’ve bought you some more. Casual clothes. Jeans, T-shirts, those weird shorts that make me think of you naked.”

  “Basketball shorts?” Jackson chuckled and turned off the water in a hurry because he was freezing. “You ordered me new basketball shorts? I have three pairs already!”

  Ellery waited until he stepped out of the bathtub to greet him, towel around his waist, with a chaste kiss on the cheek. “This way you can throw those out,” he said calmly. “And some of those T-shirts that are hanging on by threads. And some of the underwear you got in high school. And some of the socks that peel off your feet.”

  Jackson gaped at him. Ellery had been on a not-so-subtle campaign to change up Jackson’s wardrobe over the past year, and granted, a lot of their adventures had taken out parts of the wardrobe in general attrition. But this wasn’t a skirmish or even a battle. This was D-Day on Jackson’s remaining clothes, and he was unprepared.

  “But… but….” Ellery smiled, cat-like, and Jackson was suddenly indignant. “You,” he said in irritation, “do not get your way all the time!”

  “Of course not. If I got my way, we would not have just had sex in the shower, and boy, you showed me. I learned my lesson about daring you, didn’t I?”

  Jackson glared at him. “Shut up.”

  Ellery kissed him on the lips. “Shutting up now, Detective. Wouldn’t do to make you mad. You might blow me next, and then I’d be in real trouble.”

  “I know where you keep your sex toys, Counselor. Don’t make this a contest.”

  To his everlasting joy, red crescents appeared high on Ellery’s cheek, and his bluster drained out of him, replaced by the color. “I… those were from when I was single and, uh, you know.”

  Jackson’s turn to capitalize on his discomfort. “Sure,” he placated. “I’ll never mention them again. They’ll just, you know, sneak up on you. By surprise.”

  Ellery’s eyes narrowed. “But not this morning, unless you want to really surprise the guys delivering the dresser.” And with that, Ellery turned on his heel and went to get dressed.

  Jackson dried off and brushed his teeth, then did the same, picking nylon basketball shorts that, he had to admit, were almost transparent, and a T-shirt with a collar barely hanging on by the threads, that read “Duct Tape: It Can’t Fix Stupid But It Can Muffle the Sound” with a little silver line of duct tape weaving through the words.

  Or it had a silver line of duct tape weaving through the words, but that was the first thing to go before the lettering started to flake off. The shirt was dark blue—or had been dark blue—but it was getting sort of greenish with overwashing, and there were holes in the armpits.

  Jackson looked at it mournfully as he tugged on the hem and realized that even though he’d put on some much-needed weight that summer, it still flapped around his hips because it had been stretched out beyond all repair.

  “Are you touching it like that because you’re trying to say goodbye?” Ellery assessed as he walked past Jackson and into the hall. “And I’ll make you some oatmeal for breakfast. Don’t worry, I won’t forget the margarine and teaspoon of sugar.”

  “Why would I say goodbye?” Jackson retorted to his retreating back. “It’s got a few good years left!”

  He tugged at the hem again and sighed when another portion of the neck gave way.

  Goddammit. Did Ellery always have to be right?

  Jackson was still feeling sulky when the furniture guy arrived. Just the fact that the dresser had to be moved instead of assembled meant that it was not only pricey, but also that it wouldn’t interfere with Ellery’s tastefully heavy furnishings.

  In fact, it looked like a twin to Ellery’s dresser, and Jackson sighed. It was official. After a year of sharing the same house, he was living with a guy who didn’t seem to want him just for sex and was prepared to deal with all of his baggage.

  Weird, but the thought was getting less weird as time progressed, so that was something.

  The clothes, on the other hand….

  “Did you at least put them away?” Ellery asked during his afternoon phone call.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Jackson told him. “I don’t have anything else to do!” He had to admit, Ellery had taken his taste into account. The T-shirts had snarky sayings on them, and in addition to the slacks and button-downs, there was a share of stone-washed 501’s and basketball shorts.

  And the underwear didn’t have a single hole in it—and neither did the brand-new, squishy-soft comfy socks.

  Gah!

  “You could try assembling those files I sent you and making that to-do list for Henry…. Oh, yes. I see. Wow, that was quick.”

  “I’m bored,” Jackson said flatly. “Are you sure I have another two weeks?”

  “Doctor’s orders,” Ellery said, that edge of irritation in his voice that said his last nerve and Jackson were getting to be friends again. He let it out in a sigh. “Do you want to walk to frozen yogurt when I get home? It’ll be nearing evening. The heat won’t be so bad.”

  “Really?” And oh! He sounded pathetic. But the promise of getting out of the house and doing something physical—with Ellery’s approval—was probably his best thing right now.

  “Promise.” Ellery’s gentleness told Jackson he understood.

  Ellery changed into tasteful Bermuda shorts and a casual T-shirt, gray with a matching madras shirt to go over the ensemble. Jackson stayed in his basketball shorts and shredding T-shirt out of sheer perversity.

  As they were walking into the yogurt place, Jackson was surprised to find that they were the object of a quiet conversation between a mother in her late forties and her daughter, probably in her late teens.

  “Oooh,” Mom said, sending Ellery a surreptitious look. “Hotties incoming.”

  “Mom!” daughter wailed, looking them over. Her eyes lingered on Jackson. “Okay. Fine. They have come in, and they’re hot. Green eyes. Mm.”

  Jackson turned his attention to the line of different yogurts. It was one of those places that weighed your choices at the end and then charged you. He decided on pistachio with lots of chocolate and cookies while he listened to the rest of the convo.

  “Oh, honey, not that one. The other guy.”

  “The other guy looks boring. That guy looks hot!”

  “The other guy looks like he could pay the rent,” Mom said. “And believe me, when you get to be a grown-up, that’s sizzle. I mean, oh, baby, pay that bill for me one more time!”

  Her daughter cracked up. “I’ll crush on the guy who looks like he could dance on motorcycles while juggling chainsaws. I mean, I’m not gonna marry him, right? Just ogle him at fro-yo!”

  Her mother laughed, and Jackson and Ellery went to get their frozen yogurt, and Ellery finished talking about the caseload Jackson would be walking into when he got back to their firm.

  But he did notice Jackson was thinking about something. “What’s up?” he asked as they were walking slowly home, savoring their treat.

  Jackson looked at his T-shirt, which was
actually letting in gusts of the river breeze as they walked. “I was just thinking how sexy you are,” he said, and he smiled a little, but he was really thinking, When you get to be a grown-up, that’s sizzle.

  Ellery snorted, and Jackson shook his head.

  “No,” he said, taking another thoughtful bite. “I mean it. You have this grown-up thing mastered, you know? But… you still know how to have fun. I may need to take Ellery lessons.”

  Ellery grunted over his own bite of ice cream. When he’d swallowed, he said, “You’re worth more than an ‘ogle at fro-yo,’” with complete understanding.

  “You heard that, did you?” Jackson asked, smiling.

  “Mm.” Ellery nodded and scraped at the bottom of the little plastic container. “The girl thought you were pretty special.”

  “She thought I was dangerous,” Jackson said with a half laugh.

  “You are,” Ellery told him seriously. “Just….” He trailed off, and things were suddenly very serious.

  “I’ve already promised to not be so much a danger to myself,” Jackson said, just as serious. “I remember.”

  Ellery relaxed a little.

  Jackson paused his stride long enough to bump Ellery’s shoulder. “Look, I can’t promise to be a new man—”

  “I like the old one, mostly,” Ellery said mildly.

  “Yeah. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you. And how being a grown-up is hot too.”

  Ellery’s smile went slow and then wicked. “Does that mean we can have sex in the bed tonight instead of the bathroom?”

  Jackson laughed. “That means that I’ll maybe save the geriatric T-shirts for hanging out at the house,” he said. He stroked the front of the shirt he was wearing and more of the lettering flaked off. “I mean, you’re already hot, Counselor, but let’s see what I can do to make you look good.”

  “Don’t bleed,” Ellery said, completely sober.

  Jackson just laughed.

  That night they made completely serious, totally sober, very adult love. They smiled and laughed a lot, but they both knew the other would be there when it was over.

  In fact, as they gave that final kiss good-night before melting into the mattress, they counted on it.

  When Dave Met Alex—

  A Fish Out of Water Story (with a few cameos by the String Boys)

  Dave Meets Jackson

  DAVE SAW the young police officer coming out of the boy’s room looking tired and sad. He’d been in the hospital on occasion with his Daddy Cop, a man Dave disliked on principle because he was an asshole, called Dave “sweet cheeks,” and was a rude fucker to the people he was talking to.

  Baby Cop was different. Young, blond, green-eyed, he still had a toughness to him, a hardness to his jaw that said he’d seen too much too young. But he’d been kind—if distracted—to Dave when Dave had needed to interrupt police business to tend to patients in the ER.

  “How is he?” Dave asked as the cop emerged, but what he was really asking was “How are you?”

  “His ass hurts,” the cop said bitterly. “Because some dirtbag tried to rip it open with a four-by-four.”

  Dave let out a breath. The kid had been beaten and sexually assaulted. The damage was done, and the kid was a wreck. But he was also funny, and his family—parents, sisters, a punk-ass brother, and a bestie who looked like he’d die for the kid—gathered around him like they’d give him strength through a tube if they could.

  “I know that,” Dave said dryly. “But how’s he doing?”

  The cop gave Dave a sideways look and a reluctant smile. “He’s a tough kid. Man, I’d be losing my shit, but he’s… he’s holding steady.” The cop closed his eyes and shuddered. “But he’s also lying his ass off, which is unfortunate.”

  “Lying?” Dave was surprised. All that genuine family warmth…. Lying didn’t seem in their wheelhouse. “About what?”

  “Someone got into a fight with the guy who assaulted him last night.”

  “Good!” Dave blurted, relieved when the cop laughed a little.

  “I would agree with you, but whoever it was practically cut the guy’s head off. So that’s one dead scumbag in the morgue and one freaked-out kid wandering the streets.” Cop boy rubbed his eyes. “After what happened to Kelly, I don’t think whoever did it as revenge would end up doing too much time, but….” He looked at Dave, taking in his magnificent Blackness (as Dave liked to call his pale brown skin) and quirked an eyebrow.

  “Your people aren’t good to the brown, are you?” Dave asked, disgust lacing his voice.

  “I wish I could say that wasn’t true.” The cop sighed. “I just… there’s got to be a halfway point between ‘Hey, he was protecting his family, give him a break,’ and ‘People who cut people’s heads off should not just get to walk away.’”

  Dave grunted. True words, right there. “Do you know who it was?” he asked.

  “I’ve got a couple of ideas,” the cop said. “Unfortunately, not enough from anybody talking to even ask the right kid the right questions.”

  “Mm.” Dave let out a sigh, and the new blond nurse who’d been recently hired sashayed down the adjoining corridor. “Mm, mm.”

  The cop turned and grinned. “Do you have plans I should know about?” he asked.

  Dave shook his head. He and Malibu Ken had never even crossed paths, but boy howdy, did that kid’s ass fill out a set of scrubs. “I only wish,” he murmured. “Cute as hell, isn’t he?”

  “Not my type,” the cop said dryly, and he yawned again.

  “Well, whoever your type is, I hope they’re waiting for you when you get home. You look….” Dave narrowed his eyes on Baby Cop. “You look like you haven’t eaten or slept in months.” Scrawny, bags under his eyes, shaking hands. This cop wasn’t doing well. “The job getting to you?”

  Baby Cop gave a tired shrug. “Shouldn’t it?” he evaded. They came to the corridor that led to the entrance of Davis Med Center, and he started to veer. “Nice talking to you, Nurse Dave,” he said, indicating Dave’s nametag. Sure, he could have had his last name on it, but Nurse Dave put people at ease.

  “Stay safe, Baby Cop,” Dave murmured. Dammit! He’d already lost track of Malibu Ken. God, he should at least learn that guy’s name if he wanted to nail him to the wall, right?

  The day went on, and he stayed busy. Med Center was a bustling metropolitan hospital, so there was a lot to do. The kid eventually healed enough to be released from care, and Dave hoped for the best for him.

  The next time he saw Baby Cop, he was being brought in on a stretcher, a big fucking hole in his chest, sucking up pints of blood through his arm like a sponge while his heart stuttered like a skipping record.

  Alex Meets Dave

  “FUUUUUCK…,” ALEX muttered, exhaling smoke with the word. He was leaning against the wall near the back entrance of the hospital, the sort of no-man’s land where everybody took their smoke breaks in shame because health-care professionals weren’t supposed to have vices, and fuck that all anyway.

  “God, that was rough.”

  Alex turned his head to check out the nurse next to him. Tall, built, with dramatic, sweeping gestures and honey-brown skin with sloe-brown eyes. Alex had caught “Nurse Dave” checking out his ass more than once.

  He liked it.

  But right now, he liked the companionship more.

  “That… I can’t believe that guy is still alive,” Alex said. “Whatever he was shot with, it practically pulverized his chest.”

  “The day’s young,” Dave said, his voice shaking. “Fuck. He was a sweet kid too.”

  Alex felt a little pang of jealousy. “You hit that?”

  Dave shook his head, his lips quirking up in a bitter smile. “Nice that you think I’m in his league, but no. He was just a good cop. Liked to talk to people. Liked to do the right thing. His training officer—”

  “DOA,” Alex said, because he’d been there when that bus had opened its doors, and it had looked like a slaughterhouse
inside. Not that the live cop’s bus had looked much better.

  “Yeah, well, he was a bastard. Not sure he deserved to go out like that, but our live guy—”

  “Rivers,” Alex told him. “Jackson Rivers.”

  Dave grunted. “You got his name?”

  “I charted him,” Alex said. He swallowed. “Twenty-one.” His own age.

  “He really is a baby,” Dave said, and for a moment their eyes met.

  Alex saw the wistfulness in Dave’s eyes, and thought he was, what? Maybe five years older than Alex? Not too old. Definitely not too old.

  “Hey,” Alex said gently, taking another drag of his cigarette and watching as Dave mirrored his actions. “Us babies can still get around.”

  Dave’s laugh was still a little broken. “Be careful, Baby Nurse. I’ll take that as an invitation.”

  Alex’s entire body shook with the adrenaline of the job, with worry, and with the need to let some of it out. “I invite you to try me,” he said, meeting Dave’s eyes, and he felt it. The moment the same wildfire swept them both. They hadn’t even touched.

  “I’ve got twenty minutes left on my break,” Dave said, brown eyes daring him.

  “I can blow you in ten,” Alex told him, suddenly needing it that bad.

  “My car. Seats fold down. Come on.”

  Dave grabbed his hand and hauled him to the parking garage, which was just across the thruway. Alex jogged to keep up, surprised when the used SUV came into sight. It was a little battered, but well cared for, and Dave opened it and shoved the seats down in the back in less than a minute. Alex climbed in and shut the hatch, glad, suddenly, for the early-spring day, because otherwise it could be damned uncomfortable in there. For a moment, they simply looked at each other in the breathless dark, and then Alex practically jumped forward, taking his mouth that quickly.

  Hard, quick kisses—this wasn’t tender, and it wasn’t sweet. Everything was hard and quick. Alex took his mouth, took his throat, nipped his way down that long body, and then shucked his scrubs halfway down his hips, along with his underwear.