Hey Nick! Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us!! Sooo....you've been mentioning a lot that you're surprised/pissed off because Ty never reached out to the rest of you after Sanchez's death. Might that be because he thought/knew (*cough* Scotland *cough*) he'd be blamed for his death?
Nick, I'd like to thank you not only for reading Cut & Run to us but also for putting up with the inane questions and comments you receive here. You rock.
Nicko, you're awesome baby! You're always welcome to share with us - whatever bothers you :) You give encouraging and comforting advices in TIR - I know it's just a game, but for some of us it's more than that! So thank you and see you in Dec!
NIck! It's Saturday morning and I am missing your awesomely snarky comments! I admit I got ruffled when you were hard on Zane (but, yeah, ok, you were right) but I love watching you go all mama bear on Ty. Do you know you come across as so sweet when you're trying to be a hardass?
Nicko laddie, from one Celtic redhead to another, you're a pure fucking brilliant bloke. Know what I mean? Gie's a peek at that lovely Irish arse, aye?
Nicko, first of all thank you for your service. And secondly, you're such a good man. I'm sorry you had a rough childhood and a rocky start in life. But look at you now! You're an inspiration. Kelly's a lucky guy, and you deserve someone like him in your life.
A harrowing ride through DC traffic later (describes traveling with Ty accurately) and they were in Baltimore, bumping over cobblestone streets as they made their way through the warren of the old city toward Ty’s home. Zane parked in the walkway that led to the row house as Ty paid the hefty cab fare. (I’m not sure I’ve ever been drunk enough to pay the cab fare from Baltimore to DC TWICE)
Ty stood back and watched the car drive off, then turned slowly to look back at Zane. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes as he walked closer. “I know that jacket,” he murmured as he stopped right in front of Zane, hands in his pockets.
The leather was broken in and beaten up, well-lived in with a few scuffs here and there, a couple rips, and one gash across his upper arm. Abused, but loved. (symbolism) “Do you, now?” Zane asked innocently.
“I would have taken better care of it,” (yeah right, I saw the state the other one was in before it BLEW UP) Ty responded haughtily as he reached up to finger the gash in the arm that didn’t look near as worn as the other rips and tears. “This new?” he asked seriously.
Zane looked at his arm. “Last night. Didn’t move out of the way fast enough. Even I can’t dodge two bullets at once.”
Ty tutted and shook his head sadly. “Not the man I thought you were, then.” He sighed sorrowfully as he tugged at the slice in the leather and peered in at Zane’s arm. Zane shook his head and obligingly held his arm out. The white bandage was still there, extending out from under the red T-shirt he wore under the black leather. What he didn’t know was that a few splotches of dark blood colored the gauze. He hadn’t checked it since he had stopped for breakfast about ten hours ago. (Jesus, the vibration of a motorcycle at highway speeds on a fresh gunshot graze, nobody hates air travel that much, son)
“You’re bleeding,” Ty told him matter-of-factly as he tilted his head toward the front door. “Come on. I’ll pour some rubbing alcohol in it and make me feel better.” (do you understand why I tried to get away from him when he brought out that first aid kit?)
“You want your eardrums broken too? You’ll finally get to hear me scream,” Zane muttered, closing his palm over his arm protectively and looking petulant. (good boy, don’t let him near that arm dude)
“Bonus,” Ty crooned as he took Zane’s good arm and led him forcefully to the door. Zane grumbled under his breath but didn’t resist as Ty pulled him along. “You look like you’ve been somewhere rough,” Ty observed as he unlocked the door. “They put you undercover?”
“Yeah,” Zane said, just looking at the other man, soaking in his features. He’d thought about him so much the past four months, he still couldn’t quite believe he was here looking at him. “Inner Miami.”
“Explains the accent. It was a waste of your time,” Ty muttered as he pushed the door open and gestured for Zane to go in. “Only thing that’ll fix Miami is a fucking nuke.” (well.....)
“True,” Zane agreed with a shrug. “Kept me busy and out of Burns’s nonexistent hair, I figure.”
He walked into the house and paused a few steps inside the front room. The rooms were immaculate, completely at odds with the façade Ty showed to the world. The furnishings were comfortable and well-kept—not to mention actually matching (so judgy)—and not a single item seemed to be out of place. Framed pictures lined the walls of the little living room, each frame identical to the next. They were all black-and-white prints, and told the story of Ty’s life and career, showing him smiling and laughing with a variety of heavily armed, uniformed individuals in various exotic and not-so-exotic locations. There were several others that Zane felt certain were of Ty’s family.
Ty watched Zane from behind, letting him observe. Zane’s lips pressed together hard. “You sure you got the right house?” (SO JUDGY JESUS CHRIST) he finally asked. Christ. This was nothing like what he would expect from the man he thought Ty was. The dichotomy of the man he had known had run deeper than he had ever suspected.
Ty frowned at him. “I’m a neat guy,” (Mariiiiiiine) he pointed out softly.
Zane slanted him a grin. “I’ll have to check the hospital corners on the bed, Jarhead.” (....) He unzipped the jacket and slid it from his shoulders, pinching the bandage.
“You can bounce a quarter off my bed,” Ty boasted as he led the way into the kitchen. He dug under the sink and brought out an antique metal First Aid cabinet. The red cross on the front was faded and scratched, and the metal was dented and scarred. (he found that at an antique mall in Alabama as I was trying desperately to stay away from the taxidermy section Digger was obsessing over) When he opened the door the contents were all modern, though, and he pulled out some gauze, a tin of Rawleigh’s medicated salve (naw naw naw), and some medical tape.
Zane tossed his jacket over the bar and pushed up his sleeve as he plopped himself onto a stool. He jerked the bandage off in one go with a grimace and poked at the oozing gouge. It was a good three inches long across his upper arm, and had taken out quite a chunk of flesh. He supposed now that a few stitches might not have been a bad idea. (I can’t deal with this. I’m so glad Doc’s not reading this.)
Ty glanced over at it and immediately groaned softly. “What the hell?” he muttered. “I’m not stitching you up in my kitchen. That needs a doctor.”
“Just bandage it up,” Zane said stubbornly. “Another scar won’t matter.” (BUT DYING OF SEPTIC SHOCK MIGHT)
Ty frowned doubtfully, but he cut the tape into strips and stuck them to the side of the counter, then opened the tin and slathered a good deal of the salve inside the wound without waiting to see if Zane would allow him to touch it. He worked quickly and finally pulled the wound together, placed a thin piece of gauze over it, taped the damaged skin as close as he could, and wound it all up without a word. Zane sat there unmoving, gritting his teeth. It hurt. A lot. (Kelly would be proud)
“Glass of water?” he requested after Ty was done.
Ty simply nodded and went to a cabinet near the refrigerator to retrieve a glass. He filled it from a bottle that sat on the counter and handed it wordlessly to Zane. Reaching over to the jacket, Zane dug into the pocket and pulled out a battered bottle of Tylenol, got a couple pills (bets on whether that’s really Tylenol or not?), and swallowed them down.
“Tough guy, huh?” Ty asked sarcastically. “I bet you got all kinds of action with that routine in Miami.”
Zane lowered the glass and looked at Ty appraisingly as he tucked the bottle away. “Depends on what kind of action you’re talking about,” he said, being deliberately vague. Ty could be talking about fighting “action.” Possibly. (no. that.....no one says that) If Ty were true to form . . . that wouldn’t be it.
Ty just raised one eyebrow and shrugged. “If you got called papi more than once, then I want blood tests before I touch you again,” (now now, Tyler, glass houses and all that shit) he said as he turned to the sink behind him and began washing his hands.
Chuckling, Zane pushed off his stool and reached out to snag Ty around the waist and start pulling. “Not even once. Didn’t pay anybody, either.” (oh god, they’re going to fuck again aren’t they?)
Ty huffed a laugh and let himself be pulled closer, swatting the faucet off before he was out of reach and pulling away only enough to make it seem like an effort. “Bucking the trend, then,” he drawled. “How proud you must be.”
“Mmmmm.” Zane reached out with his other arm to drag Ty closer, facing him, then slid his lips along the curve of Ty’s neck. “I got some ass,” he admitted before scraping his teeth on Ty’s skin for a moment. Then he added, “No men.” (HOW IS THAT BETTER?)
Ty lowered his chin until his cheek brushed against Zane’s, and he frowned and nodded. “Good.”
Closing his eyes, Zane inhaled Ty’s scent slowly and let himself fall under the sound of his voice. It aroused him like nothing else. “The ass? Or the no men?” he rasped, moving slightly to rub their cheeks together.
“I don’t care,” Ty breathed in answer as he turned his head and pressed his lips to Zane’s in an open-mouthed, hungry kiss. (welp)
Zane’s hand closed around the back of Ty’s neck as the other man beat him to the kiss, one he joined with just as much desire. Christ, he’d missed this, missed Ty. He’d never expected it, and he’d lied to himself about how much it had hurt to be without him, unable to understand how he’d grown so attached to this man in the space of seven hectic, awful days. (Ty does that to people) His other hand tightened around Ty’s waist, hauling him up against his body.
Ty flailed briefly, trying not to grab the upper arm he had just bandaged, and he groaned softly into the kiss. He had tried not to think about their brief stint in New York together. Parts of it he still didn’t remember, and that just made it worse as he tried to force the memories out. Now, though, it all seemed to come rushing back and he let it, wrapping his arms around Zane and pulling him closer until there was no room left between them.
Ty’s soft sounds made Zane’s gut cramp with more than just passion (septic shock); it was powerful enough for him to shudder. Emotion he’d packed away in a tiny little box somewhere inside broke free, and everything he’d tried to deny bubbled up. Once the kiss finally broke he dropped his head to Ty’s shoulder, turning his face into Ty’s neck, and he clutched him tightly, unwilling to let go. Not just yet. Not until the lonely ache that had been building the past four months faded.
Ty gave a little whuff of surprise when Zane clung to him, but he slowly slid his arms around him and hugged him, resting his chin against Zane’s cheek. “You okay?” he asked in a whisper. (he is absolutely not okay, neither of you are)
Zane slowly nodded, waiting a few heartbeats before admitting, “I am now,” (that’s sweet. false. but sweet.) in a matching whisper. There was so much he wanted to say but didn’t dare.
Ty closed his eyes as the answer sent a shiver through him. He had been afraid of this. Terrified of this. He had known Zane had meant something more to him than just a weeklong partnership or a few wild fucks. He had known, given the chance, that Zane could mean quite a lot to him. Now, it seemed that Zane returned at least a portion of that feeling. Maybe more. (too bad neither of you are in the habit of TELLING THE TRUTH TO EACH OTHER) And Ty didn’t know how to handle it. He didn’t even know if he wanted it.
He swallowed heavily and slid his hand up Zane’s back into his hair, cradling his head as he ran his fingers through the short, messy curls.
“You need a haircut,” he murmured finally, unable to say what he really wanted. (you hear that sound? it’s me, banging my head against a wall)
Zane shrugged slightly, not willing to move unless Ty pushed him away. He was trying to memorize the feel of the other man’s body against his.
“And a shower,” Ty continued in a soft voice. He turned his head and pressed his nose and mouth against Zane’s cheek gently. “And some sleep, I bet.” (classic Ty, seducing someone by going from asshole to caring. and they don’t even realize it’s happening)
Zane knew he was exhausted, but he was so used to it he hardly felt it anymore. He’d been numb until he saw Ty again. Or maybe he’d lost his mind. “All of the above?” he answered. “And food?”
“Yeah,” Ty laughed as he smiled against Zane’s skin. “What do you want to eat?”
“Anything but Cuban,” Zane said immediately before grinning and gnawing a little on Ty’s shoulder.
Ty laughed again, louder this time as another shiver ran through him. “I don’t have any Cuban in me, (I mourn the missed opportunities for jokes here) but I doubt I’ll taste great,” he warned as he pulled away. “How about pizza? I’ll go get it while you shower.” (how badly does he smell that Ty is like ready to evacuate while he bathes)
“I suppose,” Zane said reluctantly, meaning Ty leaving rather than the food choice.
“You don’t sulk as well as I do,” Ty informed him dispassionately as he moved away.
“I just need practice,” Zane objected, leaning forward to snag Ty’s arm before he got too far away. “How about a counter offer?”
“Depends on which counter you’re talking about,” Ty answered warily as he looked from Zane’s hand up to his eyes.
Zane tugged gently. “How about you shower with me, and then we’ll both go get pizza?” It was overt, Zane knew. An outright play for attention(getting boned). But now that he had Ty this close he didn’t want to let him out of reach. He could feel the heat spiraling between them and all he wanted to do was stoke the flames.
Ty raised an eyebrow and stepped closer with the tug. “You want me to shower with you?” he asked in amusement. “Need help reaching your back, do you?” he asked with a smirk.
“And other places,” (gah I didn’t sign up for this today the hurricane is supposed to be the only thing coming at me) Zane said, looking Ty up and down significantly.
“I can go next door and ask the lady neighbor for her loofah,” Ty teased gently. “Bubble bath, maybe?”
“Whatever gets you in there with me,” Zane responded earnestly.
“Subtle, Garrett,” Ty laughed softly. “Man, you really did shed the fake layer, didn’t you?” (good)
Zane shrugged. “Somebody reminded me it was best to be myself,” he said seriously, tugging on Ty’s arm again. “He seemed rather fond of me that way.”
“Must have been a genius you were dealing with,” Ty said cheekily as he remained a few steps away.
“Yeah, I have to admit, he was pretty smart, though I teased him otherwise,” Zane said, curling his arms back around Ty and relaxing as he moved closer. “I regretted that, later. The teasing, I mean.” (good)
Ty frowned and leaned back so he could look into Zane’s eyes without going cross-eyed. “One of the advantages of teasing a man with a cracked head is that he doesn’t remember it after,” he offered.
“How much do you remember?” Zane asked quietly, eyes filled with silent questions.
Ty licked his lips nervously and shrugged. He hated when people asked him that. He hated admitting when he couldn’t recall something. “Enough that I know kissing me wasn’t a really weird thing for you to do,” (good?) he answered vaguely.
Zane slumped in disappointment. So, Ty remembered they’d had a good time. Sort of. But that was all, apparently. Zane nodded and offered a small, forced smile. At least he had that. It would do while he figured out how to make the longing for that fire between them to stop.
Ty watched his reaction carefully, confused by it. “What am I missing?” he asked in frustration. He had worked for weeks to regain the memories he had lost. He knew he was still missing quite a few, some that he would never get back, but until right then he hadn’t come across any holes that had seemed important, either to him or to someone else.
Zane swallowed hard as he slid his hand to take Ty’s and lace their fingers together. “Are you feeling this too?” (fucking iconic man) he asked, echoing what they’d asked each other months ago, only to have it pushed aside. But not forgotten.
Ty watched their fingers intertwine, fighting back the fluttering in his stomach when Zane spoke. He jerked his head up sharply and met Zane’s eyes. That one he did remember, although he had regretted that conversation for months, blushing furiously whenever he thought of it even when he was alone. He shook his head and swallowed. “No,” he answered hoarsely, echoing the answer he had given before.
Slowly, Zane raised his other hand to cup Ty’s reddening cheek. “Me, either,” he breathed before leaning forward to kiss Ty gently.
Ty groaned plaintively to break the kiss, and he took a step back to put some distance between them. “Jesus Christ, Zane,” he muttered in exasperation. “I was horrible to you. Why are you even here?” (HE LIKES PAIN)
Zane clamped down on the emotion swirling inside him, forcing himself to be as reasonable as he could. Some insane declaration would get them nowhere but upset and blustering. “I missed you,” he admitted hoarsely. “All the damn time.”
Instead of asking why in the hell Zane had missed someone who’d been so shitty to him for the majority of their time together, Ty decided to accept it as a gift and shook his head, moving closer again. “I missed you too,” he admitted. (my god, they’re actually talking to each other)
A small smile pulled at Zane’s lips as Ty stepped back into his reach. “Missed a pansy ass poster boy?” he teased as he pulled Ty to him.
“I had a head injury,” Ty answered defensively, mumbling against Zane’s cheek.
“You called me that before the head injury,” (he knows, jesus christ, WHY ARE THEY SPEAKING DIFFERENT LANGUAGES) Zane needled.
“Exactly,” Ty affirmed with a small smile against Zane’s skin.
Ty’s lips against him made Zane happier than he could remember being in some time. Four months’ time, if he was honest, which he really tried to avoid.
Ty turned his head, breathing in Zane’s scent. “Why don’t you go back to the shower idea,” he suggested softly, pulling away gently again. (lol omg)
Zane kept hold of Ty’s hand even as the other man backed away. He felt both relieved and scared, and it was a toss-up as to which was stronger. “Your shower idea? Or my shower idea?”
Ty snorted softly and looked back down at their joined hands. “Which do you prefer?” he asked with a small smile. (I think Ty doesn’t care as long as water is happening)
“My idea,” Zane admitted, tilting his head to one side as he raised their combined fists. “But that won’t get me food anytime soon.”
Ty grinned mischievously, acknowledging the obvious joke he could make and passing it over. (thank you) “Tell you what,” he murmured as he tugged at their hands and brought Zane closer. “You go shower, and I’ll order pizza and change the sheets on the bed.” (so classy, what the hell were you doing in that bed, Ty)
The purr started low in Zane’s chest and built as he stepped right up against Ty for one more enveloping kiss. “Deal,” he murmured.
Ty grinned against his lips and gently extricated himself. “What do you want on your pizza?” he asked as he moved away before Zane could snag him again.
“Anything but onions and fish,” Zane said as he reached for the jacket. “I’m gonna duck outside for a smoke first, okay?” (sure, you don’t smell bad enough already why not)
“Those things’ll kill you,” (so will septic shock, he doesn’t care) Ty admonished as he headed for the phone.
Zane had the cigarette between his lips already as he headed for the back porch. “I think the bullets will get me first,” he said wryly as he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.
Ty stared after him for a moment, unsettled. He wasn’t sure what it was about the situation that left him feeling odd. He sighed heavily and dialed the nearest pizza joint, placing the order and giving his phone number for delivery. Then he headed up the narrow stairs to the bedroom at the front of the little row house and began yanking the sheets off the bed. They smelled like the girl from the bar and expensive cigars and possibly Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Ty was a little hazy on the details. Regardless, Zane didn’t really need to catch a whiff of any of those things. (I don’t feel very well and there’s too many scents being described I might need to take a break)
Taking his time with the smoke, Zane stared off into the city that sprawled out down the hill from the roofs of the brownstones. He spent a few long minutes picking apart his own feelings—why he felt simultaneously steadier and shakier than he had in months. (drugs) Steadier, because he was with Ty. It had to be. But just the implications shook him. He had no idea how he had become so dependent on the other man without even seeing it happening. How did he do something about it? More importantly . . . did he want to do something about it?
Christ. He shook his head. Zane didn’t even know what “it” was. But he knew he was afraid it would disappear. He didn’t want to watch Ty walk away again. He finished the cigarette, stubbed it out on the concrete, and dropped it into the planter that looked like it had been used for that purpose before. Zane briefly wondered who had been smoking out here if Ty was so against cigarettes, (cigars, dude) and he drew in a deep breath. He knew Ty’s habits. It didn’t bear thinking. Shower first. Then he’d see what other emotions reared their heads. Hopefully they’d be ones he understood.
He found Ty upstairs, searching for the spare set of sheets and muttering to himself as he rummaged through the top shelf of the closet.
Zane stopped in the doorway. “Towels in here?” he asked, taking in the length of Ty’s body and pushing back the desire that revived inside.
Ty glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “Bathroom,” he answered. “I was just looking for clean sheets.”
Zane nodded and glanced into the closet briefly. He was surprised to see an old, beat-up motorcycle helmet sitting on the top shelf. (gah) He didn’t say anything about it or even show that he saw it, but he looked at Ty curiously as he wandered away. The bathroom was easy to find. (it’s the room with the wet in it) He stripped down, then frowned at the fresh bandage.
“Well, damn,” he muttered. He scrunched his nose. Might as well take it off. It would just get wet and sticky and gooey and that was just gross. (trained professionals, folks) He pulled the tape as fast as he could, pleasantly surprised when it didn’t take off too much skin. He turned on the water, poked at the side of the gouge again, and watched a thin stream of red trickle from the deepest cut of it. (GAH SEPTIC SHOCK OKAY)
“You know, I think that’s gonna hurt even more if I get it wet,” he muttered to himself. He grabbed a washcloth from the counter and climbed into the shower, holding the cloth over his upper arm. (WHAT ARE YOU DOING HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN INJURED BEFORE HAVE YOU NEVER BATHED BEFORE)
“Need help?” Ty’s voice asked softly from the doorway. (YES HE DOES HELP HIM)
Zane turned his chin to look through the clear shower curtain. Ty was a little wavy, but recognizable. “I forgot about the bandage,” Zane said. “I took it off so it wouldn’t get . . . gloppy.”
“Gloppy,” Ty echoed with a nod, as if that made perfect sense. “Need help?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
Ty gave that a small smile and moved into the bathroom, pulling his buttoned shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. He then slid out of his suit pants and briefs and left them on the ground (HAAAANG THEM UP TYLER) as well before he stepped into the shower and gently pressed a hand to the rag over Zane’s arm.
Once Ty held the cloth, Zane turned his back to the water and leaned his head into the spray, wetting down, running one hand through it to soak his hair. He let the hot water pour over his face, groaning quietly as it sluiced (I like that word) down over his shoulders and body. Without warning, Ty stepped into him and pushed him hard against the shower wall, kissing him hungrily as the water cascaded over them both.
Zane’s groan didn’t abate (I like that word too) as it came out over Ty’s lips. He wrapped his good arm around Ty and gave as good as he got; the sizzle popped inside him, just like every time before. He’d craved it. He’d tried the oblivion of alcohol and the high of drugs, but he’d not been able to find anything to match this. (comparing people to drugs and alcohol makes me uncomfortable) Ty’s touch was unique and irreplaceable. The idea stunned him, and he wavered a little, catching himself against the wall with one hand.
Ty murmured to him soothingly and pressed himself hard against Zane’s body with a growl. Zane lowered his chin to rub his cheek against Ty’s temple, flattening himself against the wall—practically out of the water (sort of defeating the purpose here)—to keep Ty as close as possible. He shifted his hips, sliding his more-than-interested cock against Ty’s wet thigh. Ty murmured quietly and bit down on Zane’s lip, rocking his hips into Zane as his hands traveled down his wet body to slide around and grab his ass possessively. Gasping, Zane shifted into the rhythm of Ty’s hips so they ground against each other. A hoarse moan from his throat echoed around them before being drowned out by the falling water.
Ty pulled away with a gasping pant suddenly, and he put his hand on Zane’s chest and stepped back carefully in the shower stall. “You finish your shower,” he rasped breathlessly. “Then we’ll do this right.” (oh, thank christ, maybe I’ll be able to skip it)
Reaching up to hold the cloth to his arm, Zane lifted glazed eyes to look at Ty as he dragged in breaths. He was flushed all over, both from the hot water and the attention.
Ty was obviously just as turned on as he was, chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure, and body on full alert as the water pounded down on him. “We may even eat first,” he added with a crooked smirk.
“Get out of the shower before I turn you around and fuck you right here,” Zane warned in a growl.
“Pushy,” Ty observed as he turned and stepped out of the shower, standing there for a moment to calm himself before he grabbed a thin robe and shrugged into it.
Zane closed his eyes and turned to the side, pressing his heated cheek to the cool tile while the water started to soak into the rag he held over his arm. What was it about Ty that made him lose control? (pheromones) Inhaling sharply as his arm twinged, he merely dropped the rag and turned around to grab the soap and clean up.
By the time he was done, Ty had retrieved the pizza from an unimpressed delivery boy who was apparently used to people answering the door while soaking wet and still in a robe (like the poor pizza kid at the station who was too afraid to tell me I was wearing a tiny leprechaun hat with my uniform one St. Patrick’s Day), and he’d set a couple sodas out on the kitchen counter. As soon as he got out of the shower, Zane shook his jeans out and frowned at them. They were a mess. He just dropped them (thank you, Pigpen) and wrapped the big towel around his waist. Wasn’t like he’d need clothes for that long.
He thumped down the steps to join Ty in the kitchen and groaned happily. “Pizza. Food of the gods.”
Ty just gave him a crooked smile and pushed the pizza box in front of him. It didn’t take long for them both to eat. Despite being hungry, they both wanted something else. (cookies, no doubt)
Finally, Zane got up from the stool, towel dipping precariously low on his hips, and took his empty drink can to the trash (RECYCLING BIN). Ty watched him as he finished his drink. Waiting.
One hunger fed, the greater one was almost overwhelming. Zane turned and walked back to Ty, took the can out of his hand and set it on the bar (rude), and grabbed his chin. “I want you on that bed, under me, now.”
Ty’s body reacted instantly to the words. He licked his lips in anticipation and stood, pressing their bodies together. “Missed me, huh?” he wagered with a small smirk.
“Fuck,” Zane murmured, pulling Ty closer. “You’re worse than heroin.” (mood killed in three....two.....)
Ty stopped short and cocked his head at Zane. “Not sure that’s a compliment,” (it’s not) he muttered.
Zane tipped his head to the side and sighed, not able to meet Ty’s eyes. “I crave heroin.” (done. done done done done done)
“Ah, Christ,” Ty groaned as he moved again and pushed away from Zane. He walked slowly to the sink counter, rubbing the back of his neck and grumbling to himself. “You know, you keep turning into a worse and worse idea.” (run, Ty)
Zane sighed and shifted to sit on the nearest stool again. He leaned his elbows against the counter. “You’re right,” he said, scrubbing at his face with one hand. “And another addiction is just the thing I need, let me tell you.” Never mind that he feared this addiction was already rooted deep inside him. (MAYBE STOP CALLING HIM AN ADDICTION AND YOU’D STILL GET LAID)
Ty stood with his back to Zane, his hands flat on the sink top as he stared at the reflection of the overhead lights in the stainless steel. Being called an addiction was not sitting well with him, (GOOD) especially from an addict, and he began to worry about how Zane was seeing this arrangement. Ty lowered his head and frowned down at the drain. (down the drain lol I see what you did there) A lot of things occurred to him to ask of Zane at that point. The only thing Ty knew he could ask without making a damn fool of himself, though, was, “Are you using?”
Zane closed his eyes. “Only you,” was the best answer (NO IT WAS NOT THE BEST ANSWER THE BEST ANSWER WAS NO), the answer he wanted to give. But it wasn’t the correct answer, and he had no right to lie. “Nothing hard core,” he finally admitted. It had been a self-destructive couple of months, when he first got to Miami. He wondered if Ty would care.
Ty straightened and turned to stare at Zane. “You back on the bottle?” he asked neutrally.
Nothing other than a flat-out negative while steadily meeting Ty’s eyes would convince him otherwise, and Zane couldn’t do it. (welp!) He shrugged a little. “Yeah.”
Ty looked away and shook his head, walking to the steps wordlessly and heading to the second floor. Zane sighed as he sat in the kitchen before slowly getting up to follow. Ty retrieved the pair of sweatpants he had been wearing before he was called in to Burns’s office, tossed his robe aside, and he was stepping into them when Zane topped the stairs. (pretty sure the stairs aren’t what were expecting to be topped here)
“Well, then,” he said as soon as he heard Zane enter the room. “You won’t mind if I have a drink,” he said curtly as he brushed past Zane and headed downstairs for the kitchen again. (that is the most elaborate, drawn out, sulky mic drop I have ever seen, jfc Ty)
Zane sighed. That answered that question. “By all means,” he said, going to the bathroom to put his briefs and dirty jeans (NOO PIGPEN) back on and taking another look at the rip in his arm. He sniffed at it and ventured back down the narrow stairs to face Ty, who had retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and was standing at the kitchen counter, drinking it as he played the bottle top over his fingers like it was a poker chip.
Zane sat on the stool across from him, sliding a hand through his wet hair. “Now what?” he asked. It was a question that had many meanings.
“Want a drink?” Ty offered sarcastically. (no, Ty, so mean)
Narrowing his eyes, Zane shook his head sharply. “Only when I’m in for the night,” he muttered.
“Well, that makes it better,” Ty responded in the same sarcastic tone. “We all know the chicos in Miami sleep like babies.”
Zane’s face went hard. “Why are you giving me shit over this if you don’t care?” (dogs who chase parked cars are faster to the point than this guy, man)
“Do I sound like a man who doesn’t care?” Ty asked, trying to keep the hostility out of his voice.
That brought Zane up short, and his sharp reply died in his throat. Ty sounded . . . upset? He certainly looked angry. After four months apart, he was angry because Zane had started drinking and popping again. He didn’t know what to say without going back into that dangerous emotional territory. “So you want me to leave off it again?” (SO FRUSTRATING OMG) he asked, voice even.
Ty closed his eyes and snorted in exasperation as he lowered his head. (I feel ya, buddy) Rubbing his eyes and wincing, he shook his head and said, “That is sort of the idea of the whole being on the wagon thing.”
“And I obviously have so much respect for the whole being on the wagon thing,” (grr) Zane retorted, sliding off the stool and heading back upstairs to get his shirt. This wasn’t going to go well, and he saw no reason to stick around for more abuse. He’d made his decision at the time, and at the time it had made sense. The sound of Ty’s bottle crashing against the nearest wall followed his exit. (temper, temper)
Zane stopped midway up the stairs and turned to look down at Ty as the man stood in the middle of the kitchen. “What the fuck is your problem?” (if you can’t finish a drink because you threw the bottle against the wall, is it a drinking problem?)
“You don’t even care, do you?” Ty asked heatedly as the wall dripped and fizzed with Hard Lemonade. “You didn’t give a damn if you were killed down there.”
Zane leaned his shoulder against the wall, tipping his head back to glare at the ceiling. What did you say to a question like that? The truth? “Why should I give a damn? I got the job done, and no one I worked with was hurt.” (I got nothin)
Ty glared at him for a moment before lowering his head once more and placing his hands flat on the countertop to calm himself. “All right, then,” he finally said in a soft voice.
Anger flared again in Zane, and he wasn’t of any mind to repress it. “So now you’re going to sit in judgment over four months of my life with no explanation? Fuck you, Grady.” He stalked up the steps and into the bathroom. For a long moment there he’d almost been convinced Ty did care. (ARE YOU SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW)
“You told me,” Ty called after him angrily, coming up the steps behind him, “how long it had been since someone gave a damn about you! You make it fucking impossible to do it!” he shouted as he rounded on the bathroom door.
Zane froze, hands on the sink as he looked at the hurt that surfaced in his eyes and crossed his face despite his effort to swallow it down. After a tense silence he felt Ty standing nearby, and he said hoarsely, “Add four more months to the tally.”
“You going for a record?” Ty asked heatedly. “Because I don’t give a flying fuck about the people you were working with in fucking Florida.”
“What are you saying, Ty? ’Cause I’ve changed my mind about four times about what I think you’re saying,” Zane snapped back before turning on him. “I didn’t give a shit about anybody for five years, and then when I did, I didn’t do a damn thing about it slipping away.”
“I’m saying,” Ty answered in a slow, stubborn tone, “that I would be hurt if something happened to you.” (I never thought I’d see the day that Ty was the grown up in a conversation about feelings)
Zane’s anger wilted, and he just looked at Ty while he stood there and ached inside. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Ty had nothing to say to that. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Is this going to interfere with what we have to do?” he asked resignedly after a long moment of tense silence.
“I’ll stop with the drinking,” Zane finally promised after a long pause, turning to pick his shirt up off the floor. (no, leave it there)
“And your other . . . addictions?” Ty asked slowly.
Zane tilted his head, trying to stretch some of the tension out of his neck before looking back to Ty. “I’ll get it under control,” he murmured, settling his dark eyes on Ty’s body appraisingly.
Ty shivered slightly in the cool air of his hallway, and he looked away toward the window and the small balcony in his bedroom. “You staying here tonight?” he finally asked in a beaten voice.
Looking up at himself in the mirror, Zane knew what his reply had to be, as much as he didn’t want it to be. “No. I’ll go on ahead and find somewhere for us to work,” he said quietly. It would not be a good idea for him to stay so close to Ty. It was far, far too tempting, and he knew he’d never be able to resist. (*sigh*)
Ty sighed and rolled his head back and forth. “How ’bout this, then?” he said in exasperation. “I would like for you to stay,” he told Zane slowly.
Zane sighed and turned to walk over to Ty, sliding his arms around his waist and leaning to press their foreheads together abruptly. Ty had asked; Zane would go for broke. “So,” he murmured. “Is this one addiction I can indulge?” (NO BAD WHERE IS MY ROLLED UP NEWSPAPER)
Ty’s eyes closed as soon as they made contact, and he turned his head to the side and sighed softly as he slid his arms around Zane. “At least it’s not one that’ll kill you,” (debatable, let’s be real) he answered flatly.
Zane’s mouth tipped up at the corners. He wasn’t too sure he’d say that. “I’ll stay,” he murmured.
Ty just nodded in response, not moving from the tentative embrace. He rested his chin on Zane’s shoulder and exhaled slowly. Zane squeezed his arms. “Never a dull moment,” he muttered. They’d been flash and bang from the first moment they’d met.
“Yeah, well, if you weren’t such a dick . . .” Ty murmured with a small smile.
Zane snickered. “Works out well since you’re an asshole.” (oh no)
“We’re gonna have to talk about these puns.” Ty groaned as he pulled away and shuffled slowly for the bed. Neither man was thinking of sex any longer. It was obvious from the slump of Ty’s shoulders that he had exhausted what energy he had left on being pissed off.
“Mm hmm,” Zane answered, following along. Some sleep wouldn’t go unappreciated, depending on if he slept at all without several whiskey shots first. (been there, I won’t lie)
“Next bad pun you make I’m kicking you in the shin. (he’s not lying, he does it if you make too many puns, it’s totally uncalled for) I don’t care where we are,” Ty threatened as he turned and raised his chin.
“Ah ah ah, you forget, pain is not an incentive for me to quit,” Zane prodded, crossing his arms.
Ty responded with a swift kick to Zane’s shin. Zane laughed and caught Ty around the waist, hefting him practically off his feet and swinging him around. Ty flailed gracelessly. A man of his size and demeanor was not accustomed to being tossed around like a rag doll, and it showed. (I can’t even fathom someone picking me up and swinging me around, even during a brawl, dude) Zane’s size advantage was finally paying off. He snickered and let Ty get his feet under him. “You love it,” he teased.
“Jesus,” Ty snapped as he held to Zane for a moment longer to make sure he really was on the ground again. Zane kept his arms wrapped around him, and he leaned forward to nuzzle the side of Ty’s neck. “Well, that’s . . . sort of embarrassing,” Ty muttered almost to himself.
Zane grinned and pressed his face close so the other man couldn’t see it and get cranky again. Ty simply let himself be cuddled with a resigned sigh. (lol I’m sorry that’s funny) Unable to hold back a yawn, Zane mumbled against Ty’s skin, unwilling to move just yet.
“Bed, huh?” Ty murmured as he finally wrapped his arms around Zane and patted him on the head.
Zane nodded, feeling drowsy for the first time in a long while without the help of copious amounts of alcohol.
“Take off those nasty jeans (THANK YOU) before you get your ass in my clean sheets,” Ty warned. Zane disrobed obediently as Ty watched him, leaving only his briefs to sleep in, then Ty stepped back and nodded for him to get into bed. “Fucking later,” he promised with a tired smile. (meh)
Zane grunted at him and crawled over the foot of the bed and slid down to lay on his belly with a soft sigh, not even bothering to reach for a pillow. Ty stood watching him for a moment, then walked over to the door and flipped off the light before crawling in after him.
“You’ll be here?” Zane asked sleepily, shifting one hand to just barely touch Ty’s arm. (of course he will, it’s his house, dude)
“If I’m not, look on the balcony,” Ty answered softly as he rolled onto his side and slid his hand over Zane’s back.
(the hurricane is bearing down, so I’m going to stop here and batten down. if you’re on the East Coast, stay safe. if you’re not . . . we all have our faults, I guess.)
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