by loveonthefarm<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Detective Damian Jersey was on the move.<\/p>\n
The Wednesday afternoon sun blared high overhead. Heat shimmered in the air. He\u2019d left his partner behind, struck out on his own. The crush of bodies crowding the park was overwhelming, and voices\u2014some chanting, some singing, some yelling\u2014cluttered Jersey\u2019s ears, but his goal, glimmering silver in the harsh light, was almost close enough to taste\u2014and definitely close enough to smell.<\/p>\n
The scent of cooked meat greeted Jersey as he joined the line for Meat Cute, one food truck out of the thirty or so that lined the borders of Crux Park, just a block away from the station, six days a week. Its logo, a pinkish-red and altogether too detailed depiction of a human heart pierced by both an arrow and a kitchen knife, winked charmingly in the sun. Months ago that logo had been so jarring that Jersey had almost walked away; now he studied it idly as the line moved. Macabre, sure, but that kind of thing was perfectly in keeping with the odd and casually gory aesthetics of New Revenon, and even more in keeping with the person Jersey was sure had designed it.<\/p>\n
Right now that person looked less like a person and more like a whirlwind of sharp utensils and rich steam rattling around inside Meat Cute. Alarming, but proficient. Jersey tamped down a smile as he stepped up to the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, Dion,\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
The whirlwind resolved itself into Dion del Monaco, who was tall, dark-eyed, and flashing Jersey a smile of the killer kind. Today he was dressed in a heather gray shirt with the phrase Meat Cute: Love at First Bite!<\/i> spilling across the front in a font that was either very cute or sort of alarming. Sweat sparkled at his temples. His curling dark hair was held away from his face with bobby pins. The August heat was bad enough in open air; Jersey didn\u2019t envy Dion being cooped up in a food truck like that, but he did admire how good Dion made the edge of heatstroke look.<\/p>\n
\u201cJersey! I was wondering when you\u2019d come through,\u201d Dion said. He had a cleaver in his hand; it glimmered when he waved. The thought of how often Dion gestured like that in the truck\u2019s close quarters with Marcus, Meat Cute\u2019s co-owner, within arm\u2019s reach made Jersey wince. “Lunch?”<\/p>\n
“Always. You on your break yet?”<\/p>\n
Dion snuck a look at Marcus, who gave Dion a disgruntled look and made a shooing motion at him. “That\u2019s a yes. Let me take care of you first, though. What do you want?”<\/p>\n
Jersey squinted up at the menu. He was a creature of habit, and Dion knew this; there were only ever three or four things Jersey chose, and given the weather, the look on Jersey\u2019s face, and the time Jersey stopped by for lunch, Dion could generally guess what he wanted. “Uh,” Jersey said. “Brisket?”<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Dion said brightly. He leaned out the window at such an alarming angle that Jersey reached out to steady him in reflex. In conspiratorial tones, Dion said, \u201cYou\u2019re getting something off the new menu. Don\u2019t say anything, and don\u2019t tell Marcus.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, wow. You really know how to make a guy feel special.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion didn\u2019t say anything, but he did wink, which was worse. “Give me five minutes,” he said, and ducked out of view.<\/p>\n
Marcus, who was burly and rough-edged and had a stunningly delicate touch when it came to plating, gave Jersey a frowning nod. After seeing him at least three times a week since February, Jersey knew that was as smiling as Marcus would get. Jersey returned his nod and stepped out of line to wait.<\/p>\n
Four minutes later the back door of the truck banged open, and out leapt Dion, bearing a hot dog in a paper basket. He handed it to Jersey.<\/p>\n
“It\u2019s called Best in Show,” Dion said proudly. “Caramelized onion, goat cheese… Don\u2019t look at it like that! You\u2019re gonna love it, I promise. Would I ever do you wrong?”<\/p>\n
Jersey looked at Dion over the hot dog. “Would you?”<\/p>\n
“Never.” Dion drew a solemn nondenominational three-finger gesture over his heart. “C\u2019mon, let\u2019s go sit. I think there\u2019s some grass over there that hasn\u2019t been cursed or covered in lettuce.”<\/p>\n
They snagged a patch of soft ochre grass. Dion threw himself down on it, stretching underneath the summer sun. In the months they\u2019d known each other Jersey had gotten used to how attracted to Dion he was, but sometimes it hit him like a sucker punch\u2014like now, when Dion was all long legs and brassy smile and clever eyes, smacking Jersey\u2019s leg, beckoning him down with slim olive fingers. Jersey sat too, and did his best to concentrate on his hot dog and not the lithe bend of Dion\u2019s waist beneath sweat-sticky t-shirt. His best was pretty good, now, after all that practice.<\/p>\n
Dion sat up to watch Jersey eat. He\u2019d convinced Jersey to be test subject number one for the menu rehaul he was planning for the Full Moon Food Truck Festival, which was coming up next weekend. He didn\u2019t ask\u2014he never did\u2014but Jersey swallowed and said, “You were right.”<\/p>\n
“Didn\u2019t do you wrong?”<\/p>\n
“Not at all,” Jersey confirmed. “The, uh\u2014what\u2019s it called? Flavor\u2014”<\/p>\n
Delighted, Dion said, “Flavor profile?”<\/p>\n
“Yeah, that. It\u2019s good. Really interesting.”<\/p>\n
Dion made a triumphant sound. He put his hand on Jersey\u2019s knee. “You\u2019ve come so far.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey laughed around a mouthful of hot dog. Dion was quiet beside him for a few moments. When Dion spoke, he said, \u201cHow long have we known each other?\u201d<\/p>\n
It had been a chill day in late February. The last snowfall of the winter season had been gray-brown and chunky and melting into gutters. Just after Valentine\u2019s Day was early for food trucks to be out and about, which was what Jersey had been thinking when he\u2019d given in to curiosity and detoured to the silver-and-red truck parked at the west end of the little park he walked through to get downtown for lunch during work. He\u2019d gotten close enough that he had to crunch through the stubborn piles of ice and slush shuttled onto the curb where the truck was parked, and then Dion had bent a little to meet Jersey\u2019s eyes through the open service window, smiled, and asked if he could talk to Jersey about whether it was illegal to charm ingredients in food. It had been, Jersey thought, a Thursday.<\/p>\n
Jersey said, \u201cI don\u2019t know. Couple of months? Why?\u201d<\/p>\n
For a moment the look on Dion\u2019s face was thoughtful and pointed\u2014but it was washed out by playful irritation and a very convincing fake pout. \u201cJersey. Really? It\u2019s August. Anyway, look. I was wondering if you\u2019d do me a favor.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey liked Dion. Liked him a lot. That didn\u2019t mean he wasn\u2019t very much aware of the fact that Dion was a little odd. \u201cUh,\u201d Jersey said, and turned to give Dion his full attention. \u201cHold on. What kind of favor?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you let me know if anyone\u2019s seen anything strange happening around here recently? No big investigation, just shoot me a text if you come across anything weird.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey put down his hot dog. \u201cWhat kind of weird? Like regular-street-chanting-weird or actual weird?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion raised an eyebrow. “What do you consider \u2019actual weird\u2019?”<\/p>\n
The fact that werewolves and domestic dogs didn\u2019t get along. The seeming lack of regulation on organs that ended up in apothecaries. Dion, and his knives, and the fact that he hung around Jersey so often, smiling the way he did. But this was New Revenon. After eleven years of living here the things that Jersey knew should be weird\u2014the wealth of cults and the charmed drinks at creepy bars and the occasional wailing from beneath manhole covers\u2014were no more than curiosities now.<\/p>\n
“Never mind,” Jersey said. “What did you mean by weird?”<\/p>\n
Dion shrugged. \u201cI think someone was skulking around near the truck the other night as I was closing up. I\u2019m sure it was just one of the vegans from the truck across the park trying to spook me again, but…I don\u2019t know. I got a weird feeling about it. Not hex weird, but just…vaguely menacing weird.\u201d<\/p>\n
The vegan truck across the park was Selene\u2019s Salads and Sundry, a compact and tidy little truck with a dizzying concentric spherical logo on the side. It reminded Jersey of an aphid: bright green and generally harmless. He\u2019d never gone there\u2014he wasn\u2019t much for food that reminded him that he should really be exercising more while he ate it\u2014but people generally gave it good reviews, aside from Dion. Part of Jersey thought Dion\u2019s rivalry with the vegans had more to do with puns than with any genuine sort of vitriol: Dion prided himself on his cleverness, which extended to and was embodied by the wittiness of his menu items, but it was hard to deny that Peas Be Unto You was a great name for a salad. Jersey kept that part of him under wraps.<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s lip was curling. Jersey bit back a laugh. \u201cYou\u2019re serious?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo I look like I\u2019m serious?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t ask me that,\u201d Jersey told him. Dion shot him a withering look and knocked a bony knee against his leg. \u201cOkay, I\u2019m sorry. Look, I\u2019m taking you seriously. See?\u201d He made a passably straight face. \u201cI\u2019ll keep an eye out.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion let Jersey dangle on that sharp look for a moment longer before turning away, sniffing, to put his nose in the air. \u201cYou\u2019re gonna be sorry you laughed when I get in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n
Someone creeping around a food truck was hardly a blip on Jersey\u2019s adjusted strangeness radar. But Dion was right: Jersey would be sorry.<\/p>\n
Jersey sobered. \u201cHey,\u201d he said, and nudged Dion with his elbow. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. For real. Are you gonna be okay getting home tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, now you wanna be a gentleman,\u201d Dion said loftily. Jersey frowned. Dion caught him at it out of the corner of his eye and softened. He turned a crooked sweet smile on Jersey and said, \u201cOh, you are <\/i>being a gentleman. How sweet. Yes, I\u2019ll be fine. I\u2019ll even call you when I get home, if you like.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to,\u201d Jersey told him. \u201cBut you can if you want.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI will,\u201d Dion decided. \u201cSoothe your heart and all. Besides, I\u2019m sure you\u2019d just love to hear about my riveting meat truck escapades.\u201d<\/p>\n
This Jersey had gotten used to, too: The way Dion spoke, walking a flirty tightrope suspended above the murky waters of intent, always almost something but never really anything. It was a little comforting in that it never pushed Jersey to make a decision\u2014but that meant he wondered, and wondered, and sometimes even hoped. It meant that things like the promise of a phone call made Jersey feel like he was reading Dion\u2019s intent right and then made him all the more nervous for the possibility of it.<\/p>\n
Jersey took a breath. \u201cI would, actually,\u201d he said, because it was true.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you would,\u201d Dion said, like he knew it was true, too. He gave Jersey a smile, nudged him, and said, \u201cNow eat. It\u2019s gonna get cold, and a cold hot dog is basically a crime. You\u2019re committing a crime right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomehow I don\u2019t think that\u2019s true,\u201d Jersey muttered, but picked his still-warm hot dog back up and began to eat. Satisfied, Dion leaned back on his elbows to complain how difficult it was to drag puns out of Marcus. They spent the rest of their joint breaks together, and when Jersey went back to the station, he did so with a smile.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
It was dark when Jersey\u2019s phone rang.<\/p>\n
Weak light trickled in through the blinds of the window above Jersey\u2019s headboard. His room was soft dark lavender with night and sleep. His laptop, which he\u2019d settled down with to watch a movie in bed, was dead. For a moment he thought blearily that he\u2019d just dozed off after an evening drink and that Dion was calling to tell Jersey he\u2019d gotten home safe and sound, and his heart leapt\u2014but when he squinted at his phone he found it was a few minutes shy of six a.m.<\/p>\n
It was still Dion calling, though. Jersey frowned and took his phone with him as he rolled over to peek out the window into the deep blue of dusky predawn in the city. He couldn\u2019t hear sirens or anything beyond the soft hush of cars starting up and whizzing by somewhere below him, but then again Dion lived somewhere in midtown in some chic apartment complex he\u2019d name-dropped casually a few weeks ago. That didn\u2019t mean anything, Jersey realized; Dion could be calling from anywhere. About anything. For any reason.<\/p>\n
Jersey\u2019s stomach went tight. Worry took him. He answered the call. \u201cDion?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d said Dion. He didn\u2019t sound wounded, but there was a note of something thready and strained in his voice that Jersey had never heard from him before. \u201cHey. Did I wake you up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s six in the morning. What\u2019s wrong? Are you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion laughed thinly. It was wrong\u2014the sound, the tone, the breathiness, all of it. Dion always gave up laughter freely, but even if he didn\u2019t Jersey would still remember what it sounded like: Joyful, raucous, surprisingly deep. Jersey sat upright, looking wide into the night.<\/p>\n
\u201cDion\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m okay,\u201d Dion interrupted. \u201cI\u2019m okay, but\u2014something happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey found his shoes at the end of his bed. He jammed his feet bare into them and found a t-shirt. \u201cWhere are you? Are there cops there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, they are. And, uh, you know that, uh, the butcher\u2019s on Clockside?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re at a\u2014do I wanna know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll find out where you get here?\u201d Dion offered, sniffling.<\/p>\n
Jersey snagged his badge and his keys from the kitchen counter. \u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m afraid of,\u201d he said, and let himself out. \u201cI\u2019ll be there in ten, okay? Tell them you know me if anyone starts bugging you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Dion said. There was a pause where Jersey almost hung up\u2014but just before he did, Dion murmured, \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice was soft. Jersey\u2019s heart twisted. \u201cNo problem,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll see you soon.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Clockside Avenue was on the far west side of town, but Jersey knew which roads had speed traps and which ones had particularly tired cops, so he made it in just under nine minutes. When he pulled up at the address Dion had sent him he found a pack of squad cars gathered round Dinah\u2019s Butchery and a roll\u2019s worth of yellow caution tape stretched across the mouth of an alley lit up with pale angled flashlight teeth. The car lights were standard blue and red, but one car at the edge of the roundup threw sickly green shadows on the sidewalk.<\/p>\n
Jersey flashed his badge at the cop at the tape and ducked under it. The first familiar face he found was homicide\u2019s Lila Cuervo, who was standing near the tape, chewing on the plastic lid of a cup of coffee and eyeing the glistening mess at the end of the alley like she thought it was far too early to be dealing with something like this. Jersey couldn\u2019t tell what had happened yet, but he wholeheartedly agreed.<\/p>\n
He sidled up next to her, gave her a greeting, and tried not to look too shifty when he asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s occult crimes doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTheir job?\u201d she replied, arching a brow. \u201cWhat are you<\/i> doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n
More officers were gathered further down the alley, organized into curious little clusters. Over the murmur of official voices and the hum of car engines, Jersey thought he could hear Dion\u2019s voice. He rocked up on his toes, searching.<\/p>\n
\u201cJersey.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey landed on his heels. \u201cUh. Detecting?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her expression was flat.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, fine. I\u2019m not here officially. I just…I\u2019m here for Dion. Del Monaco. He called me.\u201d Jersey took a deep breath and asked, \u201cHe\u2019s not your prime suspect, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
Cuervo hummed thoughtfully. \u201cThat your knife boy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey shot her a look. \u201cHe\u2019s not my \u2019knife boy.\u2019 He\u2019s not mine, either\u2014who told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve gotten lunch with you there, remember? I got eyes. The knives…\u201d Cuervo made a face. \u201cEveryone knows about the knives. You should tell him to tone it down with the knives.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe works in a meat truck!\u201d Jersey protested, but Cuervo waved him off and nodded down the alley.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ve cleared him preliminarily, but they want him to stick around. Don\u2019t go underground, don\u2019t apply for cult refuge, et cetera. It would help if someone could vouch for him,\u201d she added lightly, shrugging. \u201cDon\u2019t know who that would be, but…\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI get it,\u201d Jersey muttered. \u201cCan I take him home?\u201d<\/p>\n
Cuervo gestured toward the back of the alley, and then stabbed her finger at Jersey. \u201cGo, but keep your eyes to yourself. I don\u2019t need you snatching up any of my cases this month.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI would never,\u201d Jersey said, though they both knew it was an empty promise. He\u2019d told Cuervo a hundred times that unraveling problems was just what his worrier brain did and that he couldn\u2019t choose what he unpicked. Cuervo had told Jersey a hundred times to stop ruining her solve rate. They had a mutual understanding.<\/p>\n
Jersey headed down the alley. A portable spotlight fixed its eyes on a twisted heap of skin and flesh and bone. It was a human heap, but beyond that there was nothing definitive. Usually occult crimes was called in at obvious signs of cult involvement: sigils, strange symbols, long rambling manifestos written in blood and finished in chalk when the blood ran out. This looked more like the gruesome overkill of werewolves.<\/p>\n
When he was close enough to it to distinguish gut from bone, something caught Jersey\u2019s eye. Seated neatly in rent red flesh was a knife with a series of circles swallowing each other on the handle, bloodspattered bone inlaid into gleaming silver hilt. It might have been a beautiful knife but for the blood and the eeriness and the fact that it did look like a knife Dion would own. Between that and the bad timing, it was no wonder Dion was being questioned. Jersey swore.<\/p>\n
“Jersey?”<\/p>\n
Jersey turned sharply. In the shadows outside the spotlight\u2019s beam, half obscured by the broad shoulders of a detective, was Dion. His eyes were wide and tired; his face was pale; and though his arms were tucked around his middle, his left hand was going through motions Jersey recognized: the cavalier flip-and-flick of a butterfly knife in motion. Jersey knew Dion, and would say he knew Dion pretty damn well\u2014but he\u2019d never seen Dion look like this. It was unsettling.<\/p>\n
The detective in front of Dion turned around. It was Cuervo\u2019s partner, whose name Jersey could never quite remember. Matthew? Matthews? Something like that. Matthew saw Jersey, then saw Dion, then saw the space between them. His eyes narrowed. \u201cDon\u2019t tell me you\u2019re poaching our case.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey held up his hands. \u201cNah, you can have this one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t tell me you\u2019re poaching our witness.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat I am. Cuervo says he\u2019s not a suspect. You need anything else from him or are we good?\u201d<\/p>\n
Matthew frowned. \u201cWhy are you taking him? We\u2019ve got uniforms for that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I\u2019m taking him,\u201d Jersey said. That was all Matthew needed to know\u2014and, given the propensity of everyone around Jersey to gossip, more than Jersey probably should have said. \u201cYou gonna let him go or what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus,\u201d Matthew muttered. He dragged a hand down his face, looked between Dion and the body, and then said, \u201cYeah, take him. You gave someone here your info, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion nodded. Matthew blew out a put-upon breath and waved. \u201cOkay, get outta here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion sagged gratefully. Jersey went to him, put a careful arm around his shoulders, and nudged him forward. \u201cC\u2019mon. You gonna be good to get to the car?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWill you carry me if I say no?\u201d Dion asked. He gave Jersey a half-smile that made Jersey want to say yes<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u201cFireman-style,\u201d Jersey said instead. \u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be fun.\u201d<\/p>\n
He earned himself a rasping sort-of laugh. \u201cSexy, in a very old-school kind of way. Easier than walking for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
“You\u2019re funny,” Jersey said. When they reached the mouth of the alley he fended off Cuervo\u2019s interrogating look with a glare of his own, lifted the tape for Dion to duck under, and guided Dion to his car. Dion insisted on opening the door himself, but let Jersey shut it for him.<\/p>\n
Jersey got in, too, and drove.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Jersey pulled up at Dion\u2019s apartment at half past seven. He kept his foot on the brake and didn\u2019t put the car in park. \u201cHere you go,\u201d he said, gesturing awkwardly at the building. \u201cHome sweet home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion turned bright eyes on Jersey. Now that the sun was coming up Jersey could see that he was pale, his shoulders hunched in a way so foreign that for a moment Dion didn\u2019t look like himself at all. Tenderness rang bell-clear in Jersey\u2019s chest..<\/p>\n
\u201cWalk me up?\u201d Dion asked.<\/p>\n
Jersey walked Dion up.<\/p>\n
On the eighth floor Dion fumbled his keys out of his pocket and got his door open. Jersey leaned against the doorframe and watched Dion turn on the living room light and step slowly out of his shoes. The place looked like Dion lived here\u2014cluttered but homey, full of books with odd lettering and ornate dagger sheaths and a large plant that seemed like it would have teeth\u2014but Dion moved through it tentatively, gingerly, like he was relearning the layout. He was probably still in shock, Jersey noted. Someone at the scene should have given Dion a blanket, should have made him answer honestly when they asked if he was okay. Jersey knew Dion could twist truth and had probably lied about how he was doing to go home, but Jersey could tell he was shaken.<\/p>\n
Dion cracked open the freezer. He pulled out a bottle of something that he waved at Jsery. \u201cI\u2019m gonna make myself a drink,\u201d he said, and took a glass out of a cabinet. He filled it, then took another out and filled that too. From across the apartment, Jersey met his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cStay?\u201d Dion asked.<\/p>\n
Jersey stayed.<\/p>\n
He toed his shoes off near the door and joined Dion in the kitchen. He watched Dion knock back a finger of what smelled like vodka, shook his head when Dion offered him some. Jersey wanted badly to hold Dion, soothe away the tired wildness that lurked at his edges. The softness of Dion barefoot and rumpled and the strangeness of the early hour weren\u2019t helping; alcohol would only make the longing worse. Dion gave Jersey a long, searching look, but eventually drank the second glass, too.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should sleep,\u201d Jersey murmured.<\/p>\n
Diono grimaced. \u201cShower,\u201d he said. \u201cI keep smelling guts.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGross,\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
Dion wiggled his hand. He said, \u201cI prefer my meat cooked, is all,\u201d and headed into the bathroom. He paused, though, and stuck his head back out to tilt his head toward the door kitty-corner to the bathroom. \u201cYou can go to bed. I won\u2019t be long.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey started toward the couch.<\/p>\n
\u201cBed,\u201d Dion repeated. He arched one dark brow, but his eyes were amused. \u201cThe soft rectangle with the pillows.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey\u2019s stomach clenched so hard he thought he was going to be sick. He made himself take a deep breath. \u201cYou want me to sleep in your bed?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJersey,\u201d Dion said evenly, \u201cI have just witnessed rather a lot of murder. Would you mind?\u201d<\/p>\n
God. \u201cSure,\u201d Jersey said. \u201cOkay, sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
He followed Dion\u2019s firm gesture through the door and into Dion\u2019s bedroom. It was cozy: square, walls a warm desert brown, full of floating shelving that held books and small plants and candles, dominated by a bed brimming with pillows and whose maroon covers were thoroughly rumpled.<\/p>\n
Jersey sat down on the edge of the bed.<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s bed.<\/p>\n
Was this happening?<\/p>\n
It couldn\u2019t be, Jersey thought as he laid back. It couldn\u2019t be, and yet he was scooting upward to fit himself into the corner of Dion\u2019s bed and putting his head on Dion\u2019s pillow.<\/p>\n
This couldn\u2019t be real, and yet.<\/p>\n
Jersey closed his eyes. His traitor heart raced. He laid there smelling rosemary and sweet citrus hair product and made himself breathe evenly until he felt less desperately giddy. How many times had he imagined this, and just this, no more, no less: Lying in Dion\u2019s bed and knowing what he looked like when he was dozing off?<\/p>\n
Breathe in.<\/p>\n
Breathe out.<\/p>\n
Breathe in. Hear the shower turn off. Breathe in, breathe out, in, out, oh, God, was this really happening?<\/p>\n
\u201cD\u2014Jersey? Hey, are you asleep?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey cracked an eye. Silhouetted against the thin light flooding in from the bathroom was Dion, lean and glistening dark-and-gold. He was wearing boxers and scrunching at his hair with a towel. His legs were so long it was almost impractical.<\/p>\n
Jersey swallowed hard. \u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cYou feeling okay? Any better?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion hummed and came over to the bed. \u201cA little,\u201d he said as he tossed the towel and laid down. Like this they were face to face, eye to eye. Jersey could see it when the smile on Dion\u2019s cupid\u2019s-bow mouth reached his dark eyes. \u201cA little more.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey smiled, too. \u201cGood. That\u2019s good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMm.\u201d Dion nodded. \u201cThanks for staying. And for taking me home. And for coming to get me. I\u2019m sorry it was so early, I just…didn\u2019t know who else to call.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion tucked himself under the covers. He pulled them over Jersey, too, and as he did his feet slid against Jersey\u2019s. It was a simple touch, but it lit a fire under Jersey\u2019s skin, in his blood. For a moment Jersey wanted Dion so badly he almost couldn\u2019t breathe\u2014and then Dion smiled, all bright teeth, the front two a little bigger than the others, and said thank you<\/i> again, and something purely tender, though no less warm, swept through Jersey like a tidal wave. Dion had thought of him, called him, invited him over to keep Dion company on what might have been\u2014though Jersey couldn\u2019t be sure\u2014the worst morning of his life. He was looking for comfort; he didn\u2019t need Jersey getting hot under the collar over something as simple as the soft pads of his feet sliding against Jersey\u2019s.<\/p>\n
Jersey took a deep breath. \u201cYou can always call me,\u201d he said. It was stupid, and it was sappy, but when Dion\u2019s smile went a little crooked Jersey knew it was true.<\/p>\n
\u201cI will,\u201d Dion said. His eyelashes were fluttering; his voice dipped low, raspy with exhaustion. \u201cDo you have work today?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey did. \u201cI\u2019ll call in sick for the morning,\u201d he said. He had the hours; and if he felt like he was overstaying his welcome, he could grab a late breakfast and walk around. It would be a slow morning. Jersey didn\u2019t mind those. \u201cGo in in the afternoon. If you don\u2019t mind having me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion laughed. It wasn\u2019t quite his usual laugh, but it was close. Jersey would take it. \u201cI asked you to stay, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n
He\u2019d asked Jersey to stay after seeing the remnants of a particularly grisly murder up close and personal. Jersey couldn\u2019t blame him. He couldn\u2019t read into it, either: Dion didn\u2019t need that kind of pressure.<\/p>\n
As noncommittally as he could manage, Jersey said, \u201cYeah, I remember.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo stop asking,\u201d Dion told him, and, like some string winding him tight had come undone, sank into his pillow. His hair fanned out around his head like a dark halo. Jersey curled his fingers into a fist to keep himself from brushing stray hair away from Dion\u2019s forehead. \u201cI\u2019ll be fine in the morning,\u201d he mumbled. \u201cJust need sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo sleep,\u201d Jersey said. And, like it was simple as that, Dion did.<\/p>\n
That night Jersey went to sleep with the soft lines of Dion\u2019s slack mouth and graceful eyelashes and sharp nose burning into his memory, feeling not hot but rather sweet and warm, and he knew: He had it bad.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Jersey woke to an unfamiliar empty bed. For a bleary moment he thought he was dreaming, and for another he was only lost\u2014but then memory of that morning surged up, blood and gore and Dion\u2019s tired smiling face, and Jersey sat upright, heart pounding.<\/p>\n
There was a Dion-shaped indentation in the sheets next to him. Jersey ran his fingers over it and found it warm; touched the pillow beside his and found it still damp. So that had happened, too. Not some yearning dream that Jersey had woken from bereft. A hundred butterflies broke chrysalis in his stomach.<\/p>\n
Jersey hauled himself out of bed. The kitchen held the apartment\u2019s only noise: shuffling sounds, quiet talking sounds, coffee sounds. Dion was braced against the counter, murmuring into his phone, stirring the dark contents of a French press with a knife. His long legs were bare beneath his blue striped boxers, but he\u2019d put on a t-shirt. Jersey blamed his lingering disorientation for the guilty seconds he spent watching Dion, who was all long lines and broad shoulders and thoughtless grace, easy and handsome in the early morning.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry,\u201d Dion said, a little louder, though he didn\u2019t look sorry. \u201cYeah, I know. Don\u2019t let them edge us out, alright? I\u2019m never gonna live it down if we get run off by vegans\u2014or that falafel place. I know they\u2019re good, that\u2019s the problem.\u201d He went to a cabinet and took down two mugs. When he turned back he spotted Jersey, gave a slow curling smile, and held up a finger. \u201cYeah. I\u2019ll come in tomorrow. Just slim down the menu for today. See you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hung up and wiggled his phone at Jersey. \u201cSorry. I had to let Marcus know I wasn\u2019t working today. I didn\u2019t want to wake you up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could have,\u201d Jersey told him through a yawn. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t have minded. How are you feeling?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion hummed. He took the knife out of the French press. It was a butterfly knife. Jersey was unsurprised. \u201cI\u2019m alright. Tired. Better, though, now. Coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey went over to the kitchen counter and took the mug Dion pushed his way, murmuring his thanks. In return Dion gave him a smile that didn\u2019t quite do what it was supposed to. His mouth had said \u2019alright,\u2019 but this close Jersey could tell that his eyes did not.<\/p>\n
Jersey frowned. \u201cDo you wanna talk about it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTalk about\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t say \u2019talk about what.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion snorted. This time when he smiled it did touch his eyes, though it was wry. \u201cDo we have to?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey wanted to say yes. Instead he said, \u201cWe<\/i> don\u2019t have to. I know you work with meat and New Revenon isn\u2019t the most peaceful place, but…murder\u2019s different.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHardly,\u201d Dion said, but deflated under Jersey\u2019s look. He sighed. \u201cI will. Just…it\u2019s easier to act like it\u2019s not a big deal, you know? I do<\/i> see blood and meat all the time, I\u2019ve been to farms, I know what happens, it\u2019s just\u2014you know. You saw it. Can we pretend we didn\u2019t have this discussion? I\u2019d love to just have coffee with you. We never do that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I never see you this early,\u201d Jersey said. He let the topic drop. Dion relaxed; Jersey let himself relax, too. \u201cWe also don\u2019t usually do this.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion raised an eyebrow. He didn\u2019t say anything, which meant he was going to be difficult. Jersey scowled and gestured delicately with his mug. \u201cThis.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion hid his mouth behind his mug, but his eyes were dancing. \u201cCoffee…?\u201d<\/p>\n
Caught between affection and frustration, Jersey could only say, \u201cThis<\/i>. I know you know what I mean. Quit playing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe could have coffee more often, you know,\u201d murmured Dion, who, it seemed, was committed to making Jersey\u2019s life difficult both accidentally and by his own design.<\/p>\n
His eyes were dark; his lashes had gone low. Did he mean coffee, or did he mean this morning, the sleeping together, the easy chatting as they stood barefoot in Dion\u2019s kitchen? A look like that seemed like it should mean the latter, but Jersey thought Dion cuttingly beautiful even when he was sweaty and smelling heavily of fresh pork. He knew by now that his sense of what was seductive and what was not was, unfortunately, very much skewed.<\/p>\n
Jersey erred on the side of caution. \u201cWe could if you ever woke up before ten.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion gave Jersey three different looks at once. None of them were particularly sexy, but his voice was warm when he said, \u201cWe could. We could also keep having coffee now if you stay.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey\u2019s head was still muddled from the hard knock of an extra three hours of sleep and a murder at daybreak. If he flirted back, he could blame it on that. He could blame confusion if he broke this beautiful tenuous thing between them.<\/p>\n
He could. But he wouldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got work.\u201d Dion\u2019s expression went put-out; wincing, Jersey added, \u201cI wanna find out what happened this morning. Gotta go to work to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion gave him an absurd pout. \u201cFine. Get dinner with me, then? I\u2019m still feeling traumatized.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re playing with a knife,\u201d Jersey pointed out.<\/p>\n
Dion was playing with a knife. He looked at his butterfly knife like he was surprised to see it, too. \u201cI can\u2019t be traumatized and play with knives?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou<\/i> can,\u201d Jersey admitted, because if there was anyone who could pull off shaken and disaffected at the same time, it was Dion, \u201cbut most people don\u2019t. Uh, actually, you might wanna lay off the knives for a while. Since you\u2019re hanging out around cops and all.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion made a dismayed face. \u201cAm I?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey gestured wordlessly at himself. Dion heaved a dismissive breath and waved his knife. \u201cYou don\u2019t count. You\u2019re a detective.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSame thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re you,\u201d Dion said breezily. \u201cIt\u2019s different.\u201d<\/p>\n
A smile fought its way onto Jersey\u2019s mouth. He did his best to bite it back. \u201cSure,\u201d Jersey allowed. \u201cAnd yes to dinner, if you were serious.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m always serious,\u201d Dion said.<\/p>\n
Jersey both believed that wholeheartedly and didn\u2019t believe that at all. It was unbelievably charming. \u201cOkay,\u201d Jersey said. He chewed on his lip. If Dion caught him smiling he\u2019d never take Jersey seriously again, and he barely did to begin with. That was what happened when your first impression of someone was watching them drool relish while trying to flirt with you, Jersey supposed. \u201cDinner. I\u2019ll be free \u2019round five-thirty. What do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion tapped the flat of his blade against his jaw. \u201cWhatever you\u2019re making.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey blinked. \u201cMe?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou,\u201d Dion said. \u201cYou\u2019re making dinner. We\u2019ll have dinner at your house. That\u2019s what I\u2019m saying.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s eyes were bright. So bright. If he kept smiling like that, clever and sly, Jersey\u2019s heart was going to beat right out of his chest. \u201cOkay,\u201d Jersey said, \u201cfine, invite yourself over, it\u2019s cool. Whatever. I\u2019ll swing by on my way home and get you, yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion lifted his mug to his mouth. Over the rim of it his eyes were dancing. \u201cSure thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCool,\u201d Jersey said. He let himself out\u2014then stuck his head back in, pointed at Dion, who hadn\u2019t moved, and said, \u201cHang out here today, alright? You\u2019ve been in enough trouble for one day. The guys already think you\u2019re kinda weird\u2014the knives, you know? And I\u2019m vouching for you. Don\u2019t make me look bad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBoring, but doable. I\u2019ll be here until you come get me.\u201d Dion kissed the knife in his hand and blew a kiss to Jersey off its edge. \u201cI\u2019ll see you tonight. It\u2019s a date.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWh\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBye!\u201d Dion chirped. He wiggled his fingers cheerily and dismissively. \u201cDon\u2019t be late.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no arguing with him. Jersey knew that by now. Sometimes he didn\u2019t appreciate it, but he did find it endearing. He left Dion with a smile and headed back down to his car, already sure he would be too busy thinking about tonight to do much else.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Jersey was right: He was too busy thinking about tonight to do much else. His partner Mina was more than happy to point that out.<\/p>\n
\u201cC\u2019mon, Jers.\u201d She leaned over his desk and gave him big pleading eyes. \u201cSpill. We have a pact\u2014and<\/i> I haven\u2019t dated anyone in weeks<\/i>. I\u2019m dying for drama.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey snapped himself out of it. \u201cThere\u2019s no drama,\u201d he said. \u201cYou know me. There\u2019s never any drama.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUh huh,\u201d Mina said. \u201cThat\u2019s why you showed up to a scene you weren\u2019t called to, came in late this morning, and haven\u2019t managed to drink any of your coffee at all even though you\u2019re usually three cups deep within your first hour of work, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey shot her a look. Sipped his coffee, just to prove a point. It was cold. \u201cShit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a reason I made detective quicker than anyone else in here,\u201d Mina said, grinning. \u201cLike a dog with a bone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s because you\u2019re good. And because you make me poach my own cases. And you know that\u2019s not supposed to be flattering, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mina waved him off. \u201cWhatever. Just tell me<\/i>. I\u2019ll trade you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was smirking. With Mina that was never a good expression. She really was like a dog with a bone: persistent, determined, and, somehow, all-too-clever.<\/p>\n
\u201cTrade me for what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat you wanna know, obviously.” Mina wiggled her eyebrows. \u201cI got Lila to give me a little somethin\u2019-somethin\u2019, and then I got her to tell me about her murder this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey rolled his eyes. Mina rolled her eyes right back and added, \u201cJust \u2019cause you wanna play the long romance game with your knife boy doesn\u2019t mean we all have to do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy do y\u2019all keep calling him\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnyway.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is harassment,\u201d Jersey muttered. \u201cI hope you know that. I hope you get a seminar.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnyway<\/i>,\u201d Mina repeated. \u201cDeal?\u201d<\/p>\n
Reluctantly, Jersey said, \u201cDeal.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHa!\u201d Mina crowed. Jersey almost took it back, but Mina knew him better than to wait. \u201cSo word is that it was an occult-style killing. It was so messy they haven\u2019t been able to figure out which sect\u2019s behind it yet, but there were some pretty complex elements you probably wouldn\u2019t be able to mimic if you weren\u2019t in that sect\u2014which knife boy isn\u2019t. Is he?\u201d<\/p>\n
Cult membership was the thing du jour. Trendy, flashy, like social clubs that also dabbled in ritualistic magic practices. Dion was somehow both too strange and too normal to belong to a cult, though Jersey knew he\u2019d been approached about it before. Jersey shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood. Kinda shapes up like a weird coincidence, which is why they let him go. That and they figured if he runs with you he probably isn\u2019t brutally murdering people.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey gave Mina a flat look. \u201cBecause I\u2019m boring?\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed. \u201cNo. Well, yes, but no. It\u2019s because you\u2019re good people, Jersey. You don\u2019t run with slashers.\u201d<\/p>\n
Good people<\/i>. Was that sexy? Alluring? Was that the kind of thing Dion was into? After this morning\u2014sleeping together, waking up together, the simple yet bewildering fact of their dinner date\u2014Jersey wanted to think so, but.<\/p>\n
But.<\/p>\n
Mina waved a hand in front of his face. \u201cJers. You awake in there? Too much fun this morning?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey shook himself out of reverie. He snorted. \u201cIf by fun you mean seeing somebody\u2019s insides on their outsides before dawn, then yeah, way too much fun. Can you let me know if you get anything else out of Lila?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mina\u2019s eyebrows went up.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know good and well what I meant,\u201d Jersey told her, pointing at her who-me expression. \u201cYou know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe I do, maybe I don\u2019t,\u201d Mina sing-songed. \u201cYou already owe me. Pay up first.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tit for tat. Mina had figured out that was the best way to get Jersey to open up back when they were first made partners. He was better for it, he knew; but boy did he regret it sometimes.<\/p>\n
\u201cHis name,\u201d Jersey sighed, \u201cis not \u2019knife boy\u2019. It\u2019s Dion. I think you know that. Don\u2019t<\/i> say anything about this to anyone, but I slept over. In his bed. But we…we\u2019re just friends. Is that drama?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not drama, but y\u2019all aren\u2019t just friends.\u201d<\/p>\n
It would be so easy to agree, to say, you\u2019re right, we\u2019re not<\/i>, and Jersey wanted to badly\u2014but.<\/p>\n
Again that but. There were so many of them. But<\/i> Jersey was pushing thirty-five and Dion was only twenty-seven. But<\/i> they\u2019d only known each other for seven months. But<\/i> Dion was sharp and vivacious, an experience in and of himself, unlike anyone or anything Jersey had ever known. But, but, but.<\/p>\n
It was hard to fool himself, but harder to fool Mina. She\u2019d met Dion, had seen them back when they first started hanging out in March and Jersey hadn\u2019t yet learned how to keep himself from looking like an idiot whenever Dion winked at him. She\u2019d heard more than she should have about how confusing Jersey found Dion, and had watched him stop being puzzled by Dion\u2019s quirks and start to like them instead. She\u2019d noticed how carefully Jersey handled the odd blossoming thing between him and Dion. She was a good detective and a good friend, and that had turned out to be an exasperating combination.<\/p>\n
Jersey sighed. He went to say, I don\u2019t know if that\u2019s what he wants<\/i>, but Mina cut him off with a raised finger and a sharp noise. She said, \u201cI know what you\u2019re gonna say. Ready? \u2019We\u2019re just friends, and besides, I don\u2019t know if he\u2019d want anything like that with me, anyway\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey shut his mouth. Grinning, Mina said, \u201cYeah, uh-huh. Usually I would let it go, but, like, look. I\u2019ve seen you. I know you like him. And I know you don\u2019t like a lot of things.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think you think I\u2019m boring,\u201d Jersey told her.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy opinion doesn\u2019t matter,\u201d Mina said, waving. \u201cYours matters. And knife boy\u2019s matters. And I can\u2019t speak for him, but I don\u2019t think I\u2019d call anyone I didn\u2019t trust if I were being investigated for maybe slaughtering someone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat just means we\u2019re\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFriends, right. Friends who sleep in the same bed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJersey<\/i>,\u201d Mina said. She said it in the tone she knew reminded Jersey of his sister, and which Jersey regretted ever pointing out to her, because she always used it to do things like this. \u201cYou know what? Fine. You can deny your feelings, and you can be alone forever, and you can make me lose the office betting pool, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2014it won\u2019t make you any happier just because it\u2019s safe. Safe doesn\u2019t mean happy.\u201d She tapped his desk. Met his eyes. \u201cYou gotta risk it to get the biscuit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey touched his temples. \u201cRisk it to get the biscuit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes!\u201d Mina slammed her hand down on Jersey\u2019s desk. A passing detective muttered, \u201cJesus, Morales,” and Mina turned on him. \u201cSandy! Is risk necessary to acquire the biscuit?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sanders gave her a look like she was growing a second head. To Jersey, he said, \u201cHas she been spending too much time on that aleuromancy bullshit? That baking cult?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey gave Sanders that same look. \u201cBaking cult?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yeah, they got cults for everything<\/i> now. Bakers, pottery-makers\u2014there\u2019s even a cult made up of vegans now. Vegans. Would you believe it? I remember when cults used to make sense. Apocalyptic death god worship just isn\u2019t in style anymore, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n
Something scratched at the back of Jersey\u2019s mind. \u201cWait, say that again?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, answer my question first,\u201d Mina insisted. She was a head shorter than Sanders, but he still shied away from her, wary in the eyes. \u201cBiscuit. Risk.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, sure, whatever. Risk it to…oh. Risk it to get the biscuit?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy do you all know what that means?\u201d Jersey asked no one in particular.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t ask,\u201d Sanders said sagely. \u201cI gotta go do\u2014stuff. Literally anything else. Can I go, Morales?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mina gave Sanders a regal wiggle of the fingers. \u201cGet.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sanders got. Jersey sort of wished he could do the same. It was embarrassing to have his life aired out in front of his coworkers, but after two years of Mina\u2019s open-air-laundry policy he was used to it\u2014and he\u2019d also come to accept that sometimes she knew what she was doing, even if she did it loudly. Now, he realized as he caught himself fraying at the tangled mess of thoughts dedicated to Dion, might be one of those sometimes. He wasn\u2019t wrong\u2014they were still just friends\u2014but.<\/p>\n
But things had changed, hadn\u2019t they? Even if only a little.<\/p>\n
\u201cLunch,\u201d Jersey conceded.<\/p>\n
Mina raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n
\u201cLunch,\u201d he repeated, and did his best not to smile when she grinned. \u201cI owe you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHa! I win.\u201d She stuck her hand out for a high five. Grudgingly, Jersey obliged her. \u201cThat\u2019s, what, twenty-three for me, two for you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been right at least three times.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you fudge your numbers.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey snorted. \u201cSure,\u201d he said, and then, because his mama had taught him well, and because Mina was a good friend: \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAww, how sweet,\u201d Mina said. \u201cNow: Let\u2019s go get lunch and figure out how to make sure knife boy isn\u2019t a murderer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
After a rousing lunch, which mostly involved Jersey trying not to choke on his food as Mina outlined increasingly improbable frame jobs, Jersey made himself stay at his desk until exactly five o\u2019clock. He\u2019d thought he would be able to stay longer, but Dion had texted him three times in the past hour\u2014once to ask if Jersey wanted him to pick anything up from the store; once to let Jersey know that he\u2019d determined that cabin fever was very much real; and once to ask if Jersey\u2019s house had any sort of dress code, or if he could go for \u2019lounge chic\u2019\u2014and between worry that Dion would sneak out and get himself in trouble and genuine desire to see him again, Jersey couldn\u2019t make himself clockwatch any longer. At three after he unfolded himself from his desk, fled Mina\u2019s watchful eyes, and ducked out of the station.<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s apartment was a twenty-minute drive from the station, but rush hour made it thirty. That was fine by Jersey; he needed the extra ten minutes to make himself relax, get his head somewhere close to level. He spent the first five glad to be out of work, the next fifteen working himself up until his chest was full of butterflies, and the last ten pretending nothing was happening at all. It was so effective that Jersey was a little surprised when he parked and found Dion\u2019s building waiting for him instead of his own.<\/p>\n
Jersey squinted up at Dion\u2019s building. It glimmered brassily in the sunlight, almost intimidating. What did you do in situations like this? Call? Text? Go up and knock?<\/p>\n
This, Jersey reflected, was why he hadn\u2019t been on a decent date in ages. His nerves always got the better of him, and then he ended up sitting in his car, sweating in the air conditioning, wishing he\u2019d never said yes<\/i> or no<\/i> or anything at all.<\/p>\n
He wound up texting Dion in the end. I\u2019m out front<\/i>, he sent, and then, after a moment, added, come down whenever you\u2019re ready<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Dion didn\u2019t text back, but he did appear in Jersey\u2019s side mirror after a minute or two, waving brightly. He slid easily into the passenger seat like he belonged there. He was wearing a flimsy white shirt and a pair of hunter green shorts that clung to his thighs in a way Jersey was sure he shouldn\u2019t be noticing on a maybe-first-date.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d Dion said. He was smiling so sweetly that for a moment Jersey wanted to lean over the sticky plastic divider between them and kiss him. He still wanted to in the moment after, too; he just wrangled it down until it didn\u2019t ache so badly anymore. \u201cHow was work?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was fine,\u201d Jersey said, shrugging. \u201cI did find out some stuff about\u2014about this morning. If you\u2019re okay talking about it. I know stuff like that can be really scary\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, stop.\u201d Dion waved him off. \u201cReally. I got over it already. Yeah, it was a bad way to start my morning, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2019A bad way to start your morning\u2019? You saw a body before the damn sun came up, Dion. Worst than most I\u2019ve seen!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI keep telling you I run a meat truck for a living. I work with raw meat, like, every day,\u201d Dion pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Jersey still didn\u2019t like the flimsiness of the logic, though it was inexplicably, insensibly sexy. \u201cBlood and flesh don\u2019t scare me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere were insides,\u201d Jersey insisted. \u201cOn the outside<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n
Blas\u00e9, Dion said, \u201cSome insides are meant to be outsides,\u201d and laid slim fingers lightly against Jersey\u2019s forearm. \u201cYou worry too much. Maybe I should make dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou just<\/i> saw a body. Like ten hours ago. I\u2019m making dinner, and we\u2019re not having meat.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion gave up a disgruntled noise and slumped into his seat\u2014gasped, twisting, and shoved his hand into his back pocket to pull out a switchblade that wasn\u2019t fully closed. \u201cHuh,\u201d he said, looking at it; and then he looked at Jersey, who was looking back at him, and said, \u201cKnives,\u201d and that was it; and then Jersey was laughing, and Dion was laughing, too, and that sound crawled into Jersey\u2019s chest and soothed his nerves and stayed there all the way home.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
They had meat for dinner, which Jersey called self-flagellation and Dion called working through trauma. Dion worked as well in open air as he did in a food truck, though Jersey\u2019s kitchen wasn\u2019t too much bigger: It was like witnessing a magic trick to watch him procure spices and ingredients from various niches of Jersey\u2019s kitchen and do things to them that Jersey, for all his mama\u2019s teaching, never would have imagined. After a warm half-hour that Jersey spent nursing a drink and watching muscle shift in Dion\u2019s arms and back, Dion presented Jersey with a plate of something that had a name Jersey couldn\u2019t pronounce and smelled like heaven condensed down into an artfully plated jumble of noodles and sauce and the neatly sliced steak Jersey had bought on impulse on Wednesday.<\/p>\n
The food was good, and so were the intimate little looks Dion gave Jersey as he ate, the way Dion got animated when Jersey asked him questions, the way Dion didn\u2019t ask Jersey how the food tasted but went warmly pleased when Jersey told him, anyway.<\/p>\n
They went for a walk afterward at Dion\u2019s insistence. There was a park near Jersey\u2019s apartment complex that bore the No Lunar Rituals in Non-Sanctioned Spaces without City Council Approval <\/i>sign that always went up the week before the full moon. The moon was high, but years of nighttime work had trained Jersey to know its cycles, to know what was hanging on the cusp of magic and what was<\/i> magic, and tonight was the former, heavy with potential crackling in the air, thick like water. There was magic everywhere\u2014but there was a different kind of magic on earth, in Dion and the way he faked a howl to the moon when Jersey said something about werewolves and the way he cackled when a distant dog howled back. He was beautiful: smiling, light-footed, hair silver under the odd light of a heavy waxing moon. Deja vu glanced off Jersey\u2019s brain.<\/p>\n
He paused. Took in Dion, who was perched on the arm of a park bench, lined up like a gold-and-silver statue beneath the moon. Jersey couldn\u2019t put a finger on what tickled him, but he knew it was the same thing that had been prickling at him at the station when Sanders had come through. It hit him hardest when he looked at the moondogs, their cool shimmer, the way they radiated out from the moon like huge thin halos.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you looking at?\u201d Dion asked.<\/p>\n
What was<\/i> he looking at? Realization scratched at the surface of Jersey\u2019s conscious, on the point of breaking through\u2014but he dropped his gaze from the moon to Dion, who was smiling at him, hair blowing in the soft August breeze, and that was it. That was everything. Jersey\u2019s heart skipped a beat.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou, now,\u201d Jersey said, trying not to feel dumbstruck, failing miserably when Dion smiled.<\/p>\n
Warmly, Dion murmured, \u201cGood,\u201d and hopped off the bench to join Jersey on the sidewalk. He nudged Jersey, said, \u201cI hope you\u2019re feeling the magic tonight,\u201d and set them off down toward a fountain he swore would sing if you asked it nicely. Jersey went along with it, because he was definitely feeling some sort of magic, and let himself wonder how much money Mina was going to win in the office betting pool.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Mina asked Jersey how things were going the next day when he came back from lunch with Dion. He didn\u2019t want to tell her he felt braver now, that things had changed, that he could flirt with Dion and not feel like he was holding some fragile glass sculpture with hands covered in butter. It was one of those things that seemed like it would curdle if Jersey said it out loud.<\/p>\n
So he didn\u2019t say it. He didn\u2019t say it on Sunday, which was Dion\u2019s off-day, when the two of them had dinner at a noisy dive bar and Dion leaned so close to talk that Jersey could feel the shape of every word Dion said. He didn\u2019t say it on Monday, when Dion stretched out in an empty grassy spot in the park, barefoot and sweaty, and presented Jersey with a printout of Meat Cute\u2019s new menu and a container of samples. He didn\u2019t say it on Tuesday, when Jersey worked through lunch and spent the rest of the day texting Dion about how Dion had introduced Marcus to the new menu and promptly fled the truck for twenty minutes; or on Wednesday, when Dion was too busy to talk during lunch rush but wrote a note that Jersey spent two hours trying to decode on a napkin for him. He hadn\u2019t said it yet Thursday, two days before the full moon, when Dion called him just after five and asked if Jersey had a minute to talk.<\/p>\n
Jersey had just gotten home. He was sitting in front of the floor fan in the corner of his living room, letting the sweat that had soaked his shirt through cool, and scooted back to cut down on the noise. \u201cSure. What\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, nothing.\u201d Dion\u2019s voice had that distracted tone he got when he was playing\u2014practicing he said, though for what Jersey didn\u2019t want to know\u2014with knives. \u201cI\u2019ll be busy Friday-Saturday with moonfest. And Sunday. Recovering. I wanted to see you before that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat, like a memento? So I have something to remember you by?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion laughed. \u201cSomething like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCome over,\u201d Jersey said before he could think it through. \u201cI…have wine?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll\u2019s I need is you. The wine\u2019s just a bonus. See you at six?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey made a sound that was meant to be a request for clarification but sounded more like the sound one made when choking on one\u2019s own spit, which was because he was choking on his own spit.<\/p>\n
\u201cSix it is,\u201d Dion said, and hung up.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Dion arrived on time and brought takeout to boot. \u201cThai,\u201d he said, holding up a bag full of styrofoam boxes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWine,\u201d Jersey said, gesturing toward the double bottle on his kitchen counter.<\/p>\n
Dion waltzed into Jersey\u2019s apartment like he belonged there. \u201cWhat kind?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMoscato?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOoh,\u201d Dion said ominously, shaking his head. \u201cYou\u2019re lucky you\u2019re cute.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re lucky I\u2019m not making you drink beer,\u201d Jersey told him, just to watch Dion make the most mortified face in his arsenal. Dion didn\u2019t disappoint; he pantomimed a swoon, set down the takeout on Jersey\u2019s coffee table, and went over to cradle the bottle of wine to his chest like a baby.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou fiend,\u201d Dion said. \u201cGet me a plate before I leave with your wine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t,\u201d Jersey said, but found plates and silverware anyway. He took down actual wine glasses\u2014two of the only four he owned, a housewarming gift from his sister\u2014and brought those, too, to Dion\u2019s purring delight.<\/p>\n
They ate together. Jersey stole as many bits of food from Dion\u2019s plate as he could without being jabbed with a fork, and Dion drank more than half of the wine, though he complained every time Jersey poured him more. By the time Jersey finished doing the dishes Dion was lounging on the couch, bare feet and bony ankles in the air, whining about the heat.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s so hot,\u201d Dion complained. He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. It was a thin thing, the neckline already loose; his collarbones arched gracefully from beneath it. Sweat glimmered in the hollow of his throat. \u201cIs your A\/C not on?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just turned it on,\u201d Jersey said. The long line of Dion\u2019s neck and sharpness of his jaw were so magnetic Jersey could feel it in his bones. He made himself turn away and go into the kitchen instead; shoved his head into the refrigerator, pressed his forehead to the dairy shelf, felt cold air chill the sweat forming on the back of his neck. It wasn\u2019t just his apartment\u2019s sluggish heat that had him running hot. Dion had something in his eyes and lips and hands that he wielded like a weapon. Having him in Jersey\u2019s apartment felt like welcoming a blow to the head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think it\u2019s working…\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s just\u2014shit.\u201d Jersey\u2019s voice was too-loud in the fridge; he grabbed two water bottles and went back into the living room. Dion was still lounging half over the arm of the sofa, precarious and delicate. If Jersey didn\u2019t know better he\u2019d say Dion was doing this\u2014the dangling, the loveliness, the flush and the snatches of exposed skin and the way he looked at Jersey like he meant something\u2014on purpose. \u201cIt\u2019s just slow to get going. Here. This should help.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion took a water bottle. He looked at it and said, elegantly, \u201cUgh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGo sit in front of the fan, then! That couch is leather, anyway. It\u2019ll stick to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion looked at the box fan whirring gallantly in the corner of the living room. He looked at his water bottle. He looked at Jersey. \u201cNah,\u201d he said, sitting up, \u201cthis\u2019ll work better,\u201d and pulled his shirt over his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d said Jersey.<\/p>\n
Part of Jersey\u2019s brain that registered that Dion had raised an eyebrow at him, but the rest of his brain caught on skin<\/i> and stalled. He knew he looked dumb, but Dion was looking at him, all dark eyes and piercing focus, sunlight filtering in and playing sweetly across his skin and all his vicious angles, and Jersey\u2019s heart did something that felt painful and medically wrong but somehow made perfect sense.<\/p>\n
I<\/i>, Jersey thought, very slowly, am so fucked<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh?\u201d Dion repeated.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d Jersey agreed. He cracked open his bottle of water and drank half of it. It didn\u2019t help. \u201cUh, do you want something else? I have, like, juice, I think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJersey.\u201d Dion unfurled himself from the couch like a leggy olive blossom. Jersey had to look up a little to meet Dion\u2019s eyes; to watch his gaze go from unsettlingly intent to softer, more understanding; to watch the way his mouth moved when he said, \u201cDamian.\u201d<\/p>\n
In the depths of Jersey\u2019s chest hope blossomed so quick and so fervent that it hurt. It hurt to feel it. It hurt to tamp it down. It hurt to hear his given name held so tenderly in Dion\u2019s mouth. It hurt all the way down to Jersey\u2019s goddamn bones.<\/p>\n
Jersey tried to swallow. Tried to speak. Couldn\u2019t manage either. He made himself meet Dion\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cDamian,\u201d Dion said again. This time it was softer; this time he reached up between them, slow and testing\u2014and, when Jersey didn\u2019t move, laid his hand to Jersey\u2019s cheek. His hand was soft; his palm was warm; his fingers were long and delicate and fit to the curve of Jersey\u2019s cheek so perfectly that Jersey let himself lean into Dion\u2019s touch, just this once.<\/p>\n
A pause. Dion was worrying at his bottom lip, giving Jersey space to speak. Jersey knew he had to say something; and when he found his voice it was soft, raspy, but sure. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s brow furrowed. \u201cWhat do you mean \u2019why\u2019? Why what?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was obvious. It had to be obvious. Even when he was confused Dion was beautiful, glorious and out of place in Jersey\u2019s mess of an apartment like an orchid in a compost heap, and Jersey was\u2014he was Jersey<\/i>. That was it. That was all.<\/p>\n
It was so obvious that Jersey couldn\u2019t think of a good answer, and in his stunned silence and the tension of the moment Jersey realized Dion\u2019s question had struck a long-since-frustrated nerve. Jersey jerked himself away.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy this? Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you\u2014\u201d he stalled, sputtered, cast about; landed on, \u201cWhy aren\u2019t you wearing a damn shirt, Dion? I know you know good and well how air conditioning works! I put it on sixty-eight! This place is gonna be freezing in a minute!\u201d<\/p>\n
The part of Jersey that was still clinging to rationality knew that Dion should be frowning right about now. Scowling. Telling Jersey off for snapping at him over nothing. But Dion wasn\u2019t frowning or scowling or telling Jersey off: He was smiling. It was slow, and it was crooked, but it was a smile nonetheless.<\/p>\n
Jersey took a breath. Paused.<\/p>\n
Dion was smiling. Why was he smiling?<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Jersey said. Dion took a step forward; Jersey took one back, jabbing a finger at Dion, and said, \u201cThis? This smiling thing? Gotta stop. You\u2014aren\u2019t you pissed? Or something?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s smile blossomed. He had great teeth. Jersey was seized briefly by the aching need to be bitten by them. God<\/i>. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, so, so\u2014so what? You think this is funny?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d But he was still smiling.<\/p>\n
Jersey\u2019s face went hot. It was like every word he said turned to gibberish as soon as it hit the air. He\u2019d never felt so foolish in his life\u2014and to feel so foolish now, with Dion in his face and shirtless and smiling, was a little like torture.<\/p>\n
All he could say was, again: \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion took a step closer. Jersey made himself stay still. There was less than a foot between them, but Jersey still felt no closer to understanding than he had when they\u2019d been across the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cDamian,\u201d Dion said, and if any word had ever been a caress it was this, \u201cI am in your house of my own free will. I\u2019m half naked. I only brought my favorite knife. Do you need me to spell it out for you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion rolled his eyes like that was an unreasonable request. What the fuck<\/i>, Jersey thought.<\/p>\n
\u201cI like you,\u201d Dion said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat,\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI like you,\u201d Dion repeated. He made a soft-palmed gesture of goodwill. Jersey stared at his hands. \u201cI can say it again if it helps. I like you, Damian. Romantically. You\u2019re a detective; I know you\u2019ve been picking up on this. And\u2014I\u2019m reading you right, right? You\u2019re not\u201d \u2014he mimed a gesture like throwing a football\u2014 \u201c…?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAm I what<\/i>? Am I into\u2014Jesus, Dion. No, I\u2019m not whatever that is, probably.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s expression relaxed. \u201cOh, great. I\u2019d also like to fuck you, if you\u2019re cool with that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey\u2019s head went blank.<\/p>\n
Dion squinted at him. \u201cDamian? If that\u2019s too much I understand, but I thought I\u2019d be ho\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Jersey, because if Dion kept talking his brain was going to explode; \u201cno,\u201d he said again, because Dion was rocking back like he was going to step away; \u201cno,\u201d because Dion\u2019s brow furrowed hard when he did; then, \u201cyes,\u201d because, honestly, fuck it<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Dion said slowly, nodding. \u201cI think. Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Jersey agreed.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Dion echoed. He stepped forward, and then stopped, cocking his head, to ask, \u201cCan I kiss you? I just want to make sure. I don\u2019t actually know what I just agreed to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNeither do I,\u201d Jersey said. He felt helpless under Dion\u2019s gaze; the open affection in it made him weak and warm all over. \u201cI\u2014yeah. Yes. You can kiss me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion made a noise that was relief and clarity and want all at once. Jersey felt it in his belly, in the sudden hard throb of his pulse between his legs. He couldn\u2019t make himself look away from Dion\u2019s mouth or the way it curved beautifully when he smiled, said, \u201cThank God,\u201d and closed the distance between them to kiss Jersey on the mouth.<\/p>\n
As it turned out, Dion kissed the way he did most things: beautifully and overwhelmingly and with an intensity that was bewildering and charming all at once. There was a time that had existed before Dion had kissed Jersey, but now there was only this: the way Dion tasted and sounded and felt and smelled, which was all old cinnamon gum and soft kissing noises and smooth skin and sweat and was somehow the best thing that had happened to Jersey in years. There were Dion\u2019s lips soft on Jersey\u2019s, and there were Dion\u2019s teeth testing and then bold on Jersey\u2019s bottom lip, and there was Dion pressing his tongue into Jersey\u2019s mouth to kiss him slow and hot and deep, and beyond that there was nothing. Jersey\u2019s goddamn apartment could be burning down and it wouldn\u2019t mean a thing.<\/p>\n
A groan fought free of Jersey\u2019s mouth and found its way into Dion\u2019s. His nerves were alight everywhere they touched, and cried out everywhere they didn\u2019t; he pressed himself against Dion, wound his arms around Dion\u2019s neck. Without hesitation Dion\u2019s hands settled firm on Jersey\u2019s waist. He pulled Jersey closer until they were touching at chest and belly and knee; relief crested and broke over Jersey in huge heavy waves so heady Jersey had to pull back to breathe.<\/p>\n
\u201cGod,\u201d Dion said as soon as his mouth was free. He pressed his forehead against Jersey\u2019s, nosed at his cheek, kissed hot at the corner of Jersey\u2019s mouth and blazed a path to the crook of Jersey\u2019s jaw. He nipped at Jersey\u2019s ear, sighing lustily against the shell of it, and murmured, \u201cI wanna suck you off. Can I?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey choked on air. \u201cJesus Christ<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I?\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no easy way to say that the idea of Dion\u2019s mouth on him made Jersey so hot so quick it almost hurt. Instead, Jersey said, \u201cAre you sure? Isn\u2019t that kind of fast?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion laughed. He kept laughing as he walked Jersey backward, still kissing at his jaw and ear and neck, and he was still laughing when he tipped Jersey backward onto his bed and nudged him up until there was room for Dion to get between his legs. Dion was very attractive, Jersey thought dumbly, but also kind of really fucking weird.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, Damian,\u201d Dion said, like Jersey had just told some incredibly funny joke, \u201cyou\u2019re funny,\u201d undid Jersey\u2019s zipper, pulled him out, and took him in his mouth. He fit his tongue to the underside of Jersey\u2019s cock and hollowed his cheeks and sucked.<\/p>\n
Pleasure struck Jersey like lightning: white-hot and fast and hard, overwhelming in its intensity. This couldn\u2019t be happening. This couldn\u2019t be real. There was no way he was lying here, on his back, in his bed, with Dion\u2019s pretty dark head between his legs.<\/p>\n
\u201cDion,\u201d Jersey said, \u201cdon\u2019t you,\u201d but cut himself off when Dion met his eyes, raised a brow, and swallowed until he was nosing at the dark curls at the base of Jersey\u2019s cock. Jersey arched hard, pressing his hips back into the bed; Dion chased after him, humming low and amused, sending vibrations shivering sweetly up Jersey\u2019s cock. Jersey tried again, because there was no way\u2014no way<\/i>\u2014this could be real: \u201cDion, are you sure you wanna do this? With\u2014me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion pulled off of him. There was a wet popping sound that Jersey had never before heard in real life but would probably stick in his memory forever after. A string of spit glistened between the head of Jersey\u2019s cock and Dion\u2019s mouth; it broke when Dion said, \u201cI\u2019ve been trying to tell you this for like, two weeks,\u201d and punctuated it with a slow drag of his tongue up from the base of Jersey\u2019s cock to the head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI,\u201d Jersey began, but Dion interrupted, saying, \u201cIf you want me to stop so you don\u2019t come, just tell me,\u201d and all Jersey could think of was Dion\u2019s clever devilish mouth and fierce teeth glossed sticky and gleaming with come and then he had to stick his hand in Dion\u2019s face to keep Dion and his relentless tongue at bay while the singing wave of heat that had peaked in him ebbed.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus Christ,\u201d Jersey said weakly. Dion looked up from under the heel of Jersey\u2019s hand, which was slapped against his forehead. For a moment his mouth was slack; and then it curled into a dopey smile, which he leaned up to press against Jersey\u2019s wrist. His lips were wet. Jersey\u2019s heart rabbited.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can go slow. I don\u2019t mind,\u201d Dion told him, and kissed Jersey\u2019s wrist twice again before moving back to Jersey\u2019s cock. Jersey nodded; Dion sucked at him again, enthusiastic and wanting, tracing the delta of veins on the underside of Jersey\u2019s cock with his tongue. He gripped the base of Jersey\u2019s cock and worked him like that too, mouth and hand in perfect slow tandem. His eyelashes fell dark and thick against the crest of his cheekbones; his lips were full and lush and soft; when he tongued at the sweet spot under the head of Jersey\u2019s cock pleasure snapped through Jersey so sickly sweet he almost couldn\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n
A moan clawed its way out of Jersey\u2019s mouth. It found its tenor twin in Dion\u2019s throat; Dion pulled off\u2014still stroking him, but breathing shallow, smiling\u2014and rubbed his cheek against Jersey\u2019s dick. It was a weird thing to make Jersey so hot his balls hurt, but it was happening anyway.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking about this for weeks,\u201d Dion murmured, and that was it. Heat and pleasure chased each other up Jersey\u2019s spine, devouring each other, devouring him, and just like that he came so hard that for a moment he almost couldn\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n
Feeling ebbed slow. Sweet aftershocks rolled through him, made him tremble. When he felt steady enough to sit up Jersey blew out a long, slow breath and propped himself up on his elbows to see Dion with a stripe of come painted across his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, Jesus,\u201d Jersey mumbled, mortified. \u201cI\u2019m sorry\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion shook his head hard. “Don\u2019t be,” he said, wiping his cheek clean. He did something that looked like he was wiping come on Jersey\u2019s carpet. Jersey almost wanted to ask\u2014but Dion was sitting between his legs, mouth pink and curved sweetly, and Jersey had his priorities.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome here,\u201d Jersey urged, tugging at Dion. He came easy: long limbs, graceful movements, sitting astride Jersey\u2019s hips like a champion jockey. His shorts rode up his thighs; there was a wet dark smear where his cock strained against the fabric. Olive-gold and flushed and lusty, Dion was so beautiful that for a moment Jersey didn\u2019t know what to do with his hands. Here he was, ready and waiting for Jersey to touch him, a dream walking, and all Jersey could do was flutter his fingers along the curvature of Dion\u2019s thighs and the lines of his belly and try to figure out where to start.<\/p>\n
Dion made the decision for him: He came down to press himself flush against Jersey\u2019s chest, nuzzling at Jersey\u2019s neck. His cock was hard and hot against Jersey\u2019s belly, and Jersey\u2019s mouth went damn near dry with how badly he wanted Dion\u2014all of him, everything, all at impossible once.<\/p>\n
It was easier to be brave when Dion wasn\u2019t staring at him. Jersey followed the muscle of Dion\u2019s thigh up and up and up to the crook of his hip. Dion hummed when Jersey dipped his thumbs into it, but he groaned outright, hot and damp against Jersey\u2019s neck, when Jersey reached back to palm his ass. Jersey pulled at him, rolled his hips up against Dion\u2019s, found a rhythm that made Dion pant and stuck to it. It was just grinding, but it was perfect. So perfect that Jersey almost couldn\u2019t believe it was happening. So perfect that against all instinct Jersey opened his mouth and said, “Dion.”<\/p>\n
“Mm?” Dion said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just\u2014is this good for you?\u201d<\/p>\n
“Mhmm.”<\/p>\n
Jersey blew out a curse. “I mean, like, with me? Specifically?”<\/p>\n
\u201cMmn,\u201d Dion said. It was a positive sort of sound, which gave Jersey some courage.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just\u2014I never do this, you know? And I\u2019m worried about fucking things up. With you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion lifted his face from where he\u2019d been hiding it in the crook of Jersey\u2019s neck. \u201cDamian,\u201d Dion breathed, \u201cnot to interrupt, I would love to talk about this with you, but could you touch me? Please?\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice was reedy. Patient, but wanting. He was ridiculous, and he was sweet, and Jersey rolled them over and tasted the delighted noise Dion made and found that sweet too. Jersey settled in between Dion\u2019s legs to kiss him slow as he undid the zipper on Dion\u2019s shorts.<\/p>\n
“Wait,” Dion said, and wriggled out from under Jersey. He kicked off his shorts, and then it was just Dion, bare skin and sharp lines. For a brief jarring moment Jersey thought he was dreaming.<\/p>\n
And then Dion pulled Jersey down and kissed him hard, and all Jersey could think about was Dion. Dion, guiding Jersey\u2019s hand to his cock. Dion, arching under Jersey like a strung bow. Dion, breathing Jersey\u2019s name as he came, shuddering, into Jersey\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n
Afterward, when they\u2019d showered and when Dion had admitted to wiping Jersey\u2019s come on his carpet but refused to apologize for it, Jersey let Dion pull him close and nose at his temple, which was not technically a kiss but which Jersey accepted as a kiss anyway.<\/p>\n
“I\u2019m glad you came over,” Jersey told him. A wellspring of emotion bubbled up in Jersey\u2019s chest, tangled and mixed-up and sweet through and through. There were so many things that Jersey needed to say now and that he would need to say later, tomorrow, in the weeks ahead; but for now this would do.<\/p>\n
“Oh?” Dion said in that tone of voice that meant he wasn\u2019t searching for compliments but would gladly accept them. “Are you?”<\/p>\n
Jersey rolled his eyes. Smiled, too. “Yes. I…I don\u2019t know. I kind of never thought this would happen.”<\/p>\n
“Oh, I did. I definitely did.”<\/p>\n
Dion was grinning. Jersey didn\u2019t have to see him to know that. He nipped at the hollow of Dion\u2019s throat and felt Dion rumble at him for it.<\/p>\n
“We\u2019re gonna have to talk about this,” Jersey told him.<\/p>\n
“I know,” Dion said. “Sleep, first.”<\/p>\n
It was an easy enough request. Jersey closed his eyes and let the rhythm of Dion\u2019s heartbeat pull him down\u2014 but not before in the dreamy space between wake and sleep he heard Dion say, “I\u2019m glad, too.”<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
For the second time in nine days Jersey woke to a bed that smelled vaguely like Dion\u2014but for the first time Dion was there, too, snoring quietly, drooling on Jersey\u2019s hand. His long legs were sweat-sticky where they were tucked up against Jersey\u2019s and his hair was feathering at improbable angles and he was much warmer than Jersey liked in bed, but Jersey couldn\u2019t recall being more blindingly, achingly happy than he was at this exact moment.<\/p>\n
Still, Jersey wiggled his arm around from under Dion\u2019s head and flexed feeling back into his fingers. Dion made a scrunched-up face, yawned, and woke with a noise that was close enough to a snort that Jersey had to pretend to sneeze so Dion couldn\u2019t see him laughing.<\/p>\n
\u201cBless you,\u201d Dion mumbled, blinking blearily. \u201cWhat time is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey reached over him to poke at his phone on the dresser. \u201cJust after seven,\u201d he said. Dion groaned and shoved his face back into the pillow. \u201cYeah, I know, but if you want coffee\u2014hot coffee\u2014you gotta get up now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion rolled over enough to open one eye and look at Jersey. \u201cIs that code for something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s code for \u2019get up or you\u2019re cabbing back home\u2019,\u201d Jersey said, and threw the covers off them both. “Get up, I\u2019ll drop you off.”<\/p>\n
\u201cI changed my mind,\u201d Dion muttered, curling up to hide his face. \u201cYou\u2019re not as kind-hearted as I thought you were. Cruel, in fact.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can be mean when I want to be,\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHa!\u201d Dion said. \u201cHa. Oh, you\u2019re cute.”<\/p>\n
“\u2019Ha\u2019 yourself.”<\/p>\n
\u201cWe could talk about it, but…\u201d Dion shrugged. \u201cWe could also make out. I\u2019m fine with that.\u201d<\/p>\n
They ended up making out. Jersey knew a diversion tactic when he saw one, but he liked this one, and was happy to let Dion press him into his bed and kiss him until his second alarm went off and he had to get up for real. This time Dion obliged, and as they collected their clothes and picked at leftover Thai Jersey thought that for once, maybe, something was normal in New Revenon.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Because it was Dion, and because lately nothing in life was turning out quite the way Jersey though it would, Jersey was only a little surprised when Dion came into the station just after four-thirty. What Jersey was surprised to see, though, was that he came in with a uniformed escort. It was an officer Jersey didn\u2019t recognize, which applied to an unfortunate number of his coworkers. He called it focusing on the job<\/i>, but Mina called it Jesus Jersey you\u2019ve got a beautiful brain but use some of it for people skills would you<\/i>?, which Jersey was finding he really should have taken to heart sooner.<\/p>\n
Dion was leaning against the wall on the far side of the station between a grimy water cooler and the bathroom door, looking lanky and louche and altogether too lively to be here. As Jersey watched, Dion executed a perfectly insolent toss of his dark head, flashed his teeth at the officer he was talking to, and said something that seemed polite when it left Dion\u2019s mouth but sour when it met the officer\u2019s ears. Typical Dion, Jersey thought, fond and worried and annoyed all at once, and slid out of his desk to go meet him.<\/p>\n
The officer who\u2019d been talking to Dion intercepted Jersey on his way over.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d said the officer, whose last name might have been Bradley. \u201cJersey, right? My partner called Cuervo after she took this guy\u2019s info down. He just fought off a mugger, but Cuervo\u2019s got his number as a murder witness from last week.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey\u2019s heart twisted. \u201cHe got mugged<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d maybe-Bradley said. He was watching Jersey hawkishly. \u201cParamedics checked him out at the scene and said he\u2019s fine to go, and we got his account down, so he\u2019s good to go on our end. He said it was more like the guy just wanted to cause trouble than rob him. Seems like he\u2019s getting into a lot of trouble lately though, no?\u201d<\/p>\n
It took a moment for the angle of his tone to cut through Jersey\u2019s instinctive rising panic. The analytic part of Jersey took it from there. It informed him that it was odd that Dion had gotten into bad situations twice within one week and odder still that he\u2019d come out unscathed both times, and then did him the favor of pointing out that these coincidences tickled the same part of his brain that had been tickling on and off since Dion had called him that Thursday morning last week. It did not, however, put two and two together, which Jersey decided he would table until he could get Dion out of the station without souring interdepartmental relations.<\/p>\n
Dion was getting into trouble. That Jersey couldn\u2019t deny, but that didn\u2019t mean he couldn\u2019t take issue with maybe-Bradley\u2019s tone. Coolly, Jersey said, \u201cI\u2019m assuming he\u2019s not in trouble now, since you brought him here. Unless there\u2019s something you wanna share?\u201d<\/p>\n
Maybe-Bradley held Jersey\u2019s gaze for a moment longer before he gave in. \u201cCuervo told me to bring him back to the station. Said you\u2019d take care of him from here. I gotta say I don\u2019t envy you. He\u2019s got a mouth on him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion was insufferable when he wanted to be. Jersey\u2019d seen Dion pick fights with competing vendors; he knew Dion could bite. It was annoying, but he couldn\u2019t fault maybe-Bradley when Dion, just a few feet away, was making such a sharp face.<\/p>\n
\u201cI got it,\u201d Jersey said instead. \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t give me that look,\u201d Dion said as soon as Jersey came over. This was his second brush with violence in two weeks, but he held none of the pale shakiness he had the first time around: This time he was just wild-eyed and sharp, gesturing in a way that looked like knife swipes but melted into nebulous soft movements when Jersey got close enough. \u201cLike I just got mugged in an alleyway or something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey wanted to shout. He wanted to scold. He wanted to stick Dion with a police escort for a month. But Dion caught Jersey up with one of those nebulous gestures, wrapped a long arm around his waist and tugged him close and nosed at Jersey\u2019s temple, sighing, and then all Jersey wanted to do was be held, as infuriating as it was. For a moment\u2014and only for a moment, because Dion would take miles\u2014Jersey let himself lean into Dion\u2019s touch, shuddering under the heat of Dion\u2019s breath on his ear.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s better,\u201d Dion murmured warmly.<\/p>\n
It was better, but it wasn\u2019t helpful, not really. Jersey pushed at Dion\u2019s chest and gained enough space that he could look Dion in the eye and say, \u201cYou did just get mugged in an alleyway. I am gonna look at you exactly like that, \u2019cause it just happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
Plaintively, Dion said, \u201cDamian. Seriously?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, seriously! You got mugged, Dion. A week after finding a dead body<\/i>. Is that not serious?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is serious.\u201d Dion frowned. \u201cIf it weren\u2019t serious I wouldn\u2019t have taken a souvenir.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2014oh, god damn it, Dion, a souvenir?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion blew out a breath and rolled his eyes skyward. \u201cI mean, well, yeah. It was a cool knife. I had to. You know how it is.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t,\u201d Jersey told him. \u201cI definitely don\u2019t. You took a knife?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNope, that\u2019s not surprising, before you ask. What did it look like?\u201d<\/p>\n
With what looked like some effort, Dion took back his hands. “There was something on it,” he said. He held up one big long-fingered hand, made a fist, and then drew a circle around it. He made a circle around that circle, and then another circle around that, and then wiggled his fingers in a circle around that. A series of rings, radiating outward. Something in Jersey\u2019s head began to click like bones verging on popping. It tickled and it scratched and it pitched and it almost, almost made sense. Jersey stared at Dion\u2019s fist.<\/p>\n
Dion tried to put his hands around Jersey\u2019s waist again, but Jersey shook his head, caught Dion by the wrist, and made him make a fist again. \u201cDo that again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sighing, Dion obliged. He obliged again, and again, and, the fourth time, said, \u201cCome on, Damian. What\u2019s this for?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve seen this before,\u201d Jersey said slowly. \u201cThat…that was on the knife that was at that murder last week. Engraved into the handle. Was it\u2014who took that knife from you? Someone bagged it, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion mumbled something.<\/p>\n
Jersey looked at him.<\/p>\n
Dion mumbled something else.<\/p>\n
Jersey looked at him harder.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, okay, fine,\u201d Dion said, and pulled the knife out of his pocket.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus Christ,\u201d said Jersey. He wasn\u2019t surprised, which he thought was probably worse than Dion still having the knife at all. \u201cGive me that\u2014wait, no, stop touching it. Don\u2019t drop it, just\u2014hold it. Like a normal person.\u201d Dion changed his grip from careless to threatening. \u201cNo, not like that\u2014just\u2014palm up, Dion. Palm up.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion balanced the knife in his palm. It gleamed grimily in the station\u2019s overhead lights. On its hilt was the same series of circles around circles that Dion had just mimed out and that was on a knife that looked just like this one and was probably locked up somewhere in evidence. That scratched most of Jersey\u2019s mental itch, but there was still something poking at him, insisting on being known. He could figure it out, he knew, if he got his head on straight and thought about it\u2014but that wasn\u2019t going to happen with Dion anywhere near him. Jersey found that both endearing and irritating in equal measure.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t\u2014no, I can. Never mind. Hey, uh, Greenstreet?\u201d Jersey flagged down a passing uniform. \u201cCan you bring me one of the officers that responded to his mugging? I have something that needs to be bagged.\u201d<\/p>\n
The officer jogged off. Jersey turned back to Dion, leaning back enough to cross his arms over his chest. \u201cYou\u2019re already too wound up in this to be playing games with evidence. You\u2019re going to get in trouble. You know that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, I know you want to lecture me, but get this: What if we go home instead?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh my God,\u201d Jersey said. \u201cYou are not taking this seriously at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNope. Do I have to?\u201d Dion asked the officer who approached him with a plastic baggie.<\/p>\n
The officer gave Jersey a look. Jersey gave Dion a look. Dion rolled his eyes, said, \u201cFine,\u201d and tipped the knife carelessly into the bag. The officer jumped, but caught it. This time the look he gave Dion was scathing.<\/p>\n
Jersey could practically hear Mina saying knife boy<\/i> in his head. \u201cSorry about that,\u201d he said, \u201cand thanks. Make sure Cuervo and Matthew see that, will you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGotcha,\u201d the officer muttered, and hurried off, looking warily at the baggie and the knife inside.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow that you\u2019ve ruined my fun,\u201d Dion murmured, leaning down to nose at Jersey\u2019s ear again, \u201ccan we go home? I gotta wake up at an unholy hour to go help set up for moonfest and Marcus is gonna flay and fillet me if I\u2019m late.\u201d<\/p>\n
Home<\/i>, he\u2019d said. Easy, like it was natural. Like it already felt right to him to be going back to Jersey\u2019s at the end of the night. Some part of Jersey thought he should balk; the rest of him found, curiously, that he couldn\u2019t at all. Maybe that was what happened when you liked the people you dated. Maybe that was what happened when things were right.<\/p>\n
Jersey shook himself out of reverie. \u201cYou\u2019re getting up at four?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFive. An<\/i> unholy hour, not the<\/i> unholy hour,\u201d Dion corrected. He hip-checked Jersey gently, nodding toward the door. \u201cWhich means we should really be making the most of our time right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are unbelievable,\u201d Jersey said, but let Dion sweep him out of the station anyway.<\/p>\n
They got to Jersey\u2019s place a little past six. Dion showered and changed into one of Jersey\u2019s spare shirts, which, because he was tall and broad-shouldered and maddeningly, strangely perfect, did not fit him quite right, but clung to him as desperately as Jersey wanted to. Jersey didn\u2019t have to wait long to do that: Dion tumbled him into bed shortly thereafter, pressing wet-mouthed kisses into Jersey\u2019s neck.<\/p>\n
This, somehow, was natural too: laying there with Dion pressed against his chest and kissing him slow and deep and lazy, fitting his hand to Dion\u2019s jaw and letting Dion do the same in return. It was so easy that Jersey didn\u2019t need to think about it\u2014so of course he did.<\/p>\n
\u201cDion,\u201d Jersey mumbled, \u201chey, can we\u2014can we talk?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion blew out a hot breath against Jersey\u2019s jaw. \u201cWith our hands?\u201d<\/p>\n
The easy answer was yes<\/i>, but Jersey said, \u201cNo,\u201d and wriggled away enough to lay on his side and see Dion\u2019s face\u2014flushed and smiling\u2014in full. \u201cWith our faces. About us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you breaking up with me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGod, no. I\u2014wait. Wait, wait. Are we\u2014?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you say \u2019are we dating\u2019 I am going to laugh at you. I\u2019m just letting you know that now,\u201d Dion told him. His mouth was already curling into that lovely crooked shape Jersey knew was the beginning of a laugh, though. There was no point in trying to avoid it.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre we dating,\u201d Jersey muttered, looking up at the ceiling. As promised, Dion laughed. Jersey grumbled, \u201cIf you\u2019re already laughing, I don\u2019t know if I want to have the rest of this conversation.\u201d<\/p>\n
Not without effort, Dion made himself quiet. He made serious eyes at Jersey and flattened his smile into something less amused. \u201cWhatever you can say can\u2019t possibly be that embarrassing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey was sure it could. He took a deep breath\u2014and then another one for good measure\u2014and made himself say, \u201cI\u2019ve, uh. Been interested in you for a while. A couple months, at least. I know that\u2019s kind of weird, sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion kissed his teeth. \u201cOh, you were right, that is embarrassing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey flushed. \u201cSorry\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s embarrassing,\u201d Dion interrupted, \u201cthat you thought I didn\u2019t know. Cute, but embarrassing.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes were bright. Jersey tried not to duck his head. \u201cThanks,\u201d he said, \u201cfor that. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, come on, Damian. I don\u2019t know how you could\u2019ve thought I didn\u2019t know. I just figured you were biding your time. It would have been very gentlemanly, which would have been very you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think that\u2019s code for \u2019boring\u2019,\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt means you\u2019re very sweet, and very kind, and very<\/i> thoughtful, but if you\u2019d thought a little less a few months ago we could have been doing this a lot longer.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey\u2019s stomach did something complicated. \u201cThis?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion gave him a long, obscure look. \u201cYou really don\u2019t get it,\u201d he said, shaking his head as best he could with it settled on a pillow. He reached out and laid his fingers against Jersey\u2019s face, stroking the height of Jersey’s cheek. \u201cBut I like that about you. You make playing dumb kind of cute.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis,\u201d said Dion, and brought Jersey\u2019s brown hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. It was a chaste thing, but it went hot and heady when Dion\u2019s mouth turned wicked. \u201cBut also this.” He reached between them and stroked his long fingers up Jersey\u2019s cock from base to tip. It was a breath of a touch, but Jersey pressed into it anyway, electric with want. \u201cYou get my drift?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion cupped Jersey then, firm. His hands were soft and clever. Jersey rocked against him. It took almost nothing to get Jersey\u2019s breath to shudder up out of his chest, to make Dion\u2019s eyes go low and hot with intent.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think so,\u201d Jersey breathed.<\/p>\n
Dion squeezed. Jersey gave up a moan. \u201cDo you know what I mean? Actually?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes it mean you\u2019re gonna jerk me off?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt means,\u201d said Dion, slowing his hand, \u201cthat I\u2019ve had my eye on you for a while, too. And that I\u2019m serious about whatever this is. I showed you my new menu, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n
A smile spilled across Jersey\u2019s lips. He felt like pure sunshine on the inside. What a simple thing to make him feel so bright. \u201cYou did,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I\u2019ve cut down on the knives. I keep the butterfly on me because, like, you know, good common sense; but the other ones are at home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion looked a little sour about it, but brightened considerably when Jersey admitted, \u201cThat\u2019s weirdly touching, actually.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Dion said. He\u2019d stilled his hand, but he started stroking Jersey again, angling his wrist to grip Jersey properly. Jersey\u2019s eyes fell shut; he wrapped himself up in the warmth of Dion\u2019s soft hand and the sound of Dion\u2019s voice and the pleasure zipping up his spine in hot sweet streaks. \u201cYou get these little wrinkles when the knives happen. Don\u2019t get me wrong, you\u2019d still be very<\/i> handsome, but I think getting wrinkles early would give you a complex.\u201d<\/p>\n
He was laughing. Jersey opened his eyes and snapped Dion as hard a look as he could manage, which only made Dion laugh harder. \u201cYou\u2019re a real piece of work, del Monaco,\u201d said Jersey, who knew a losing battle when he saw one. And if ever there was one, it was trying to be mad at Dion when he was smiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou like a challenge, though, right?\u201d Dion teased. \u201cYou must, or you wouldn\u2019t be here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI like you,\u201d Jersey said. To say it aloud and know it was true was an impossible lightness. Jersey could say it a hundred times and never tire of it. \u201cThat\u2019s why I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a moment Dion was speechless\u2014and then his expression went achingly soft and a little silly, warm-eyed and affectionate. \u201cOh, Damian<\/i>,\u201d Dion crooned, collecting Jersey into his arms, \u201chow romantic.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, God,\u201d Jersey muttered. Dion had crushed Jersey\u2019s head against his collarbone. Hopefully that would keep him from feeling the smile Jersey was leaving there.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t say it like that,\u201d Dion told the top of Jersey\u2019s head. \u201cNow: Do you want me to jerk you off or what?\u201d<\/p>\n
There were a million different things Jersey wanted from Dion. He couldn\u2019t list all of them, but he could definitely think of a place to start. \u201cOr what,\u201d he said, to Dion\u2019s noisy delight, and then wriggled up to kiss him quiet.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
That night, after Dion had fallen asleep, Jersey dimmed the brightness on his laptop and sat awake, reading. He meandered down the usual news site branch-offs\u2014BuzzFeed, cooking websites, daily horoscopes\u2014for a good hour or so, bored and aimlessly searching. Around one-thirty he started to think he was just having a hard time turning his brain off, but then something caught his eye. On the side of the newspaper\u2019s jaunty advice column, which was run by either a staunch believer in karma or someone who just really liked getting people hexed by proxy, were a series of offsite links.<\/p>\n
How to Make It Official. How to Get Your Man<\/i>. Determine Your Best Sex Positions\u2014And Sign Compatibility!\u2014Using A Lunar Calendar.<\/i> Jersey opened all three in different tabs.<\/p>\n
How to Get Your Man<\/i> was a Cosmo listicle that looked like it had been written by a particularly lovely siren who\u2019d gotten their hands on a laptop. Play up your charm points, establish interest early on, be honest\u2014Jersey closed out of it, snorting. If courtship were that easy he\u2019d have been able to be honest with Dion months ago. How to Make It Official<\/i> wasn\u2019t much better, either: It wanted Jersey to do things like talking and being open and not fearing judgment, which seemed ridiculous and frightening. He didn\u2019t doubt that he could have that conversation with Dion, but that didn\u2019t mean he wanted to. And besides, they\u2019d established earlier that they were together. Sort of. Hadn\u2019t they?<\/p>\n
Jersey looked at the top of Dion\u2019s head, which was the only bit of him that was visible beneath the covers. He was snoring softly. He had to be up early, and would need all the energy he could get; Jersey could ask him in the morning.<\/p>\n
The article about lunar calendars was so full of pictures it took the browser a minute to load them all. There were diagrams of abstract lewd illustrations and and a quick explanation of sign compatibility near the top. Below them was an illustrated lunar calendar from which the full moon gleamed at him in all its pixelated glory. While many cults plan their rituals around lunar cycles, we think we\u2019ve got a sexier alternative to the blood and guts that usually mark the full moon (no offense to our vampy readers\u2014whatever floats your boat is cool, too).<\/i>, read the caption just below that moon.<\/p>\n
The bubble of understanding that had been swelling in Jersey\u2019s mind for a week popped. Clarity dawned like sunlight breaking through clouds. Wide awake and mind racing, Jersey adjusted his glasses and settled in to read.<\/p>\n
Dion\u2019s phone went off at five. The sheets stirred; Dion groaned, long and grudging, and kept groaning until Jersey took his phone and dropped it into the sheets near his head. Dion stuck his head out from under the covers and pawed for the phone. His hair was a glossy mess; his left cheek had pillow marks stamped into it. Jersey couldn\u2019t help but smile.<\/p>\n
After a long fumbling moment Dion managed to turn his alarm off. In the silence that followed, he rolled onto his side, blinking himself into something that looked like coherent consciousness, and squinted up at Jersey\u2019s face. \u201cOoh. Glasses. Sexy,\u201d Dion murmured. \u201cWhat are you doing up this early? I thought you didn\u2019t work today.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey sighed. \u201cNot early. Late. I haven\u2019t slept yet. I think I figured out that butcher shop murder.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds like work.\u201d Dion stole one of Jersey\u2019s hands away from the keyboard and kissed his knuckles. His other hand danced featherlight circles on Jersey\u2019s hip, fingers dipping every so often beneath the waistband of Jersey\u2019s sweats to stroke the skin there. \u201cWork is not sexy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Already Jersey was twitching. Dion\u2019s gaze slid hot and heavy up Jersey\u2019s body, so wanting it almost felt like touch. It took Jersey two tries to swallow, and still he tripped over his words when he said, \u201cSo what\u2019s\u2014what\u2019s up with this, then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re sexy. Big difference,\u201d Dion said easily, and took Jersey\u2019s finger in his mouth. His tongue was so soft Jersey could barely think. Dion must have been able to tell, because he let go, fit himself between Jersey\u2019s legs, hooked his arms under Jersey\u2019s knees, and pulled hard. Jersey slid down flat; his laptop pitched toward the floor. He scrambled for it, but Dion caught it and set it down on the ground.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was using that,\u201d Jersey pointed out. He was too hard for that to be a real complaint. They both knew it, but some part of Jersey wanted to save face. \u201cTo solve a murder. Does that not matter?\u201d<\/p>\n
With Jersey\u2019s legs snug around his waist, Dion looked like the cat who\u2019d caught the canary. Every part of Jersey thrilled at the intent in Dion\u2019s eyes. \u201cNope,\u201d Dion said, and leaned down to kiss at Jersey\u2019s throat. \u201cWork isn\u2019t sexy. Unless I\u2019m literally being murdered right now, it doesn\u2019t matter\u2014and oh, look. I\u2019m not being murdered. Huh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour blatant disregard for the justice system isn\u2019t sexy either,\u201d Jersey lied.<\/p>\n
Dion laughed into the crook of his neck. \u201cGive me twenty minutes and I\u2019ll convince you to pursue a life of crime,\u201d he said, and Jersey gladly obliged.<\/p>\n
When they were done, Dion plucked Jersey\u2019s laptop off the floor, gave it to him, and gathered Jersey into his arms. He was sweaty, but upright; Jersey leaned against his chest, let Dion kiss the bruising bite mark he\u2019d left in the soft join of Jersey\u2019s neck and shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo,\u201d Dion murmured, stroking idly at Jersey\u2019s ribs, \u201cmurder.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMurder,\u201d Jersey agreed. He unlocked his laptop. Cosmo\u2019s article on lunar calendars and sex positions glowed cheerily at them. Dion made an amused noise into Jersey\u2019s skin; Jersey tamped down the urge to slam his laptop shut and dismiss this theory entirely, gestured at the article, and said, \u201cLunar calendars.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see,\u201d Dion said. He put his chin on Jersey\u2019s shoulders. \u201cMm. Are you a Capricorn? That looks kinky.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAries?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDion<\/i>\u2014I\u2019m a Sagittarius. And I\u2019m not doing that with you right now. I would have to stretch first.\u201d<\/p>\n
This time the noise Dion made was interested and rumbling. It was entirely too easy for Jersey to pique Dion\u2019s interest\u2014and entirely too easy for Dion to pique Jersey\u2019s in turn. Jersey was going to have to grow some sort of steelier backbone if he was going to get anything done with Dion around.<\/p>\n
Not without effort, Jersey said, \u201cLater. Pay attention. The full moon is tomorrow night, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMoonfest is tomorrow night, so I\u2019m assuming so. What\u2019s that got to do with anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe city\u2019s been tightening up on lunar ritual restrictions lately\u2014bad for tourism, hard to keep tabs on, harder to patrol. A couple of them recently have gotten messy because of cult turf wars. I\u2019m not occult crimes, but the gist of it is that the lunar acolytes are convinced they have a right to pretty much any ritual-conducive place in town on the full moon because, you know. Lunar acolytes. God\u2014Goddess?\u2014moon-given right, whatever.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, I think I heard about that, actually. Something happened a couple months back with that werewolf pack, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight!\u201d Jersey switched tabs to the city council\u2019s website. On their activities page was an all-too-cutesy calendar labeled with New Revenon\u2019s official sanctioned events and holidays\u2014and on the night of the full moon, for as many months as Jersey could possibly scroll forward, was the little brown pawprint that meant that all public spaces were to be cleared for werewolf use only. \u201cSo the city gave the go-ahead for the werewolves to use any available public space\u2014that\u2019s why all those fences were going up in May. Naturally, it\u2019s hard for the lunar acolytes to compete.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if one of the festival\u2019s best-selling trucks\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAww\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2014is in hot water, it\u2019s gonna make the city look bad for endorsing the festival\u2014especially in such a dangerous atmosphere. So they get you in trouble, they get the park closed down, they get to use it for lunar ritual as a run-off site.\u201d Jersey snapped his laptop shut. \u201cBet money they\u2019ve already called the city council to register their concerns and ask for the park to be shut down tomorrow night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Dion said. \u201cI\u2019m following. But why me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey switched tabs again and pointed at the website\u2019s header.<\/p>\n
Behind him, Dion went stiff. Very slowly and very coolly he said, \u201cYou\u2019ve got to be fucking kidding me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re gonna be mad,\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m already mad.\u201d Arms crossed, Cuervo walked Jersey back into a particularly grungy corner of the station to glare at him. Already several pairs of eyes were on them. The air was thick with the particular kind of tension that Cuervo brewed like a storm cloud when she knew she was going to hear something she didn\u2019t like. \u201cI know that look, Damian Jersey. Don\u2019t say what I think you\u2019re going to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wincing, Jersey said, \u201cI think I figured out your murder.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cuervo bit out a curse and threw her hands up. \u201cAgain?\u201d she snapped.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe did it again,\u201d she called across the office. At least four different heads popped up to look at her. One of them was her partner Matthew, who slammed his hand down on his desk and said, \u201cDamn it, Jersey!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry,\u201d Jersey said, though he felt distinctly unapologetic. It was only the third time he\u2019d solved someone else\u2019s case this month, and the first time he\u2019d done it to Cuervo in a couple of weeks. \u201cI\u2019ll trade you one of my interesting ones or something. It\u2019s not like I meant to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, that is always the worst part,\u201d Cuervo said, pinching the bridge of her nose. \u201cOkay, just rip off the band-aid. What\u2019s your theory?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jersey told her. He told her about the lunar acolyte vegan cult. He told her about the vegan truck\u2019s moon logo and the matching engraving on the knife at the butcher shop alley murder and Dion\u2019s souvenir. He told her about the city council\u2019s lunar ritual permits. He even told her, sort of, about the rivalry they held with Dion, hoping against hope that she would just raise her eyebrows and let that go.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t. \u201cMorales! You win this one,\u201d Cuervo hollered across the office. Several groans went up, all drowned out by Mina\u2019s answering whoop. Cuervo turned back to Jersey, and, lower, said, \u201cThat\u2019s what you get for stealing my cases. Come on, come with me. We got a little bit of legwork to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Jersey stopped by Meat Cute at eleven-thirty that night, since Dion had told him that was the last time he was likely to get a break until one-thirty or two. There was already a line ribboning away from the truck; Jersey had to fend off four different dirty looks as he came up to the side of the window.<\/p>\n
Marcus saw Jersey first. Marcus never looked particularly happy, but tonight he looked like he might take someone\u2019s head off if they fumbled their order, which was an alarming expression for a detective to see on someone who was dual wielding knives. His heavy dark brows knitted harder when he spotted Jersey.<\/p>\n
\u201cDion!\u201d he called into the body of the truck. \u201cCops!\u201d<\/p>\n
Something clanged in the truck\u2019s guts. \u201cFuck. What do they want?\u201d<\/p>\n
Marcus looked at Jersey. Jersey shrugged. Marcus said, \u201cYou, Dion. Get out here.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was more clanging, and then one particularly emphatic metal thump. \u201cI swear no one besides me appreciates the attention that goes into a good sear,\u201d said Dion over his own footsteps. \u201cThe audacity\u2014\u201d Dion stuck his head out of the window. Sweat glimmered at his temples; his hair was held back from his forehead with a headband and sticking out wildly. He scanned the line, scowling, but when he spotted Jersey his expression went sweet as sugar. \u201cOh! Damian! Hi! Marcus, can you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out of my truck,\u201d Marcus said, pointing a knife at Dion. Dion pointed a knife back, thumped it into something soft-sounding out of Jersey\u2019s line of sight, and disappeared again. Jersey circled around to the back of the truck to meet Dion when he jumped out.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d Jersey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d Dion said back. He lifted his fading Meat Cute t-shirt to dab at his face. Once he was suitably unsweaty, he leaned in to give Jersey a quick kiss. \u201cWanna take a walk?\u201d<\/p>\n
People from the line were still eyeing Jersey like he was getting free samples from Dion on the sly. \u201cYeah, let\u2019s,\u201d Jersey said dryly, and nudged Dion out toward the crowded park.<\/p>\n
\u201cMidnight madness,\u201d Dion said grandly, making a sweeping gesture out over the line as they passed. \u201cI haven\u2019t seen a line like this in ages. Marcus is having such a great time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs he? I couldn\u2019t tell.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, he is. Trust me. How\u2019d your hunch pan out?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion gestured toward the crepe cart occupying the vegan truck\u2019s usual spot. When he dropped his hand again, his knuckles knocked against Jersey\u2019s. He smelled faintly like the salt-and-butter sear of meat and the sharpness of freshly chopped vegetables. Something with lime, maybe. Jersey caught Dion\u2019s forefinger with his and held on.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe way I thought it would. The lunar acolytes were gonna curse your truck and shut down the festival early so that everyone would go home and they could use the park for rituals. They just picked you because y\u2019all already had beef. How\u2019s your new menu panning out?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion blinked at him. It took a long, pensive moment for him to say anything. When he did, he said, heavily, \u201cVegans.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNew menu,\u201d Jersey prodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh\u2014uh, the menu is going over very well. We\u2019ve been swamped since, like, nine. I can get away for maybe ten minutes before that line gets out of control. Marcus is gonna have my head regardless. Strip it down for brain meat.\u201d Dion gave a clever little leer. Jersey tried not to grimace.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood,\u201d Jersey said instead. \u201cThat\u2019s good. Tell him to lay off you though, alright? You\u2019ve had too many brushes with death to be joking about that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dion cut Jersey a long, searching look\u2014and then quick as lightning, grabbed Jersey\u2019s hand and ground to a halt.<\/p>\n
Jersey stopped too so his shoulder wouldn\u2019t come out of its socket. He whirled on Dion, who was staring at him, owl-eyed, dipped in silver in the high moonlight. \u201cOw\u2014what, Dion?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI,\u201d Dion said; shook his head, said, \u201cYou<\/i>,\u201d shortly; laughed, finally, and fluttered his free hand around his temple. \u201cI sound like you,\u201d Dion said.<\/p>\n
Jersey said, \u201cI don\u2019t know if that\u2019s a compliment or not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is,\u201d Dion said. He sucked in a breath, blew it out, and then said, \u201cThank you. For everything. I know\u2014knives\u2014and I think you\u2019ve gotten a new wrinkle, just saying, but thank you for doing it anyway. You\u2014well, you know. You\u2019re you. And I like that about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sweetness bubbled up and burst warm in Jersey\u2019s chest. He was smiling so hard he could feel his cheeks protesting; Dion was smiling back, wide and charming and shot through with a fondness so potent it made Jersey almost dizzy. In the level middle of Crux Park with festivalgoers milling all around, Jersey was both acutely aware of and completely unconcerned with the fact that they were not alone.<\/p>\n
Jersey shuffled forward until his shoes hit Dion\u2019s. Would it look strange to press himself against Dion\u2019s chest in public? Did Jersey care? He couldn\u2019t find enough shame to stop himself from doing it. Dion, who had probably never known shame to begin with, wound his arms around Jersey\u2019s waist and held him close.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re gonna make me kiss you in public,\u201d Jersey mumbled against Dion\u2019s chest.<\/p>\n
Sounding plainly delighted, Dion said, \u201cOh, no. Am I?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was probably not a good idea to kiss Dion in public. Jersey was going to do it anyway. He rocked up onto his toes, braced himself against Dion\u2019s chest, and kissed Dion eyes closed.<\/p>\n
Dion kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and here, under the light of a full moon and in the circle of Dion\u2019s arms, Jersey felt magic.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Read this piece\u2019s entry in the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki.<\/a><\/p>\n