Sneak peak at a Coyle/Clyde fic I've been working on under the cut. I love those horrible freaks and I want to put them in the combination torture labyrinth sex dungeon.
Oklahoma was a shit place to be in February. The deepest darkest part of winter was just beginning to lift it's oppressive blanket from the country, but the cold was still biting and the frost still crawled it's way up the windows at night. And more often than not the weather could not make up it's mind on whether to snow or rain and instead settled on an icy sleet that stung his exposed face and hands. It was not the coldest place he'd ever wintered in no, but the open plains with nothing to block the wind that seemed to snatch all of the warmth from his body was up there. It didn't matter how high he pulled his collar or cowered deeper into his coat, the cold found a way in. He was freezing. Had been for days. The heater in the Catalina had gone out and left him to conduct his surveillance with chattering teeth and blue lips.
He couldn't wait to finish his assignment and retreat to the gentle warmth of an Arizona winter. Clyde was not a religious man but following Leland Coyle around had made him consider praying for clear skies, if only to save himself from shivering out in the freezing February rain and sleet. Or that standing in an open field during a storm arrived at it's natural conclusion and he could file the whole business away and move on. At the end of the day he was so tired and achingly cold that all he could do was burrow under the dingy motel bed's duvet and sleep.
After a week of tailing the cop Clyde had finally managed to arrange to meet the man. Gravel crunched under the wheels as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the little road house that they were meeting at. The cold was seeping into his joints and made them ache.
The place was nice enough, the linoleum was a bit chipped, everything looked lived in. Most importantly though it was warm. The officer would feel comfortable here, he should be known by the staff. Clyde made his way to the back of the bar and chose a booth. Glancing at his watch he settled in to wait for the cop. The place was rather deserted, the evening crowd hadn't come in yet and the only patrons currently were keeping to themselves. Good, he wanted their conversation to be as private as possible.
A tired looking waitress ambled over, still seemingly blinking sleep from her eyes. He ordered a coffee for himself and slumped back against the booth. It was blessedly warm in the bar, almost verging on too hot but Clyde was so frozen stiff from the past week that he didn't mind.
It had been a long week and he could feel it starting to wear on him. Even in the heady, stuffy roadhouse it felt like the cold had burrowed down into his bones. Clyde was exhausted, he'd rather have met the other man at the top of his game but beggars could not be choosers. He dragged a hand over his face with a tired sigh. When his coffee came he wrapped his hands around it gratefully. The warmth of it slowly seeped through his stiff and aching hands. The coffee itself was only passable, it left a bitter almost acrid taste in the back of his throat. But he hadn't come here for the food.
The door chimed and a draft of cold air wormed it's way into the room. Looking up he could see that telltale navy of a police officer's uniform, on it's heels came the distinctive rasp and drawl of Leland Coyle's voice. He was shamelessly hitting on one of the waitresses, and Clyde fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Somebody's supposed to be waitin' for me?" He asked, voice overly sweet. The cop was obviously well known, and liked by the staff. He listened as he was directed over towards the table Clyde was currently sitting at. Unhurriedly he made his way over, giving an appreciative whistle as he passed.
Leland Coyle sauntered over, stopping to schmooze with a few of the patrons before finally reaching Clyde's booth. With him he brought the heavy scent of stale cigarettes. He was still wearing his sunglasses and without seeing his eyes Clyde was struggling to get a read on him. A prickle of unease raised the hairs on the back of his neck. The cop was sizing him up before he sat down. He did so heavily, taking up as much space as possible. Before Clyde could open his mouth to introduce himself the officer was waving over a waitress.
"Sweetness, could ya get me a beer?" He grinned with far too many teeth. Clyde noticed that he had a slight gap between his two front ones. The officer doffed his hat and playfully let the fawning waitress wear it while she took his order for a pint.
The whole thing reeked of performance and sleaze.
"You must be Leland Coyle." Clyde said flatly. He did not extend his hand in greeting.
"If you think I haven't seen you tailing me since Tuesday, you must think I'm stone blind and pig-ignorant." He snapped, loudly crunching on the nuts from the little bowl set on the table. Clyde flinched, barely, but it was enough for the cop to catch it. He grinned, too many teeth showing Clyde that he was fully capable of eating him alive. For now his appetites seemed to lie elsewhere, if the lingering lascivious glace he sent after their waitress as she returned with his beer was anything to go by. Clyde did not envy the woman.
