Shady Ridge and Neon Sky

Shady Ridge and the Neon Sky - 1 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the pr...

Author: Owen Chris

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Shady Ridge and the Neon Sky - 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher. Shady Ridge and the Neon Sky TOP SHELF An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers PO Box 2545 Round Rock, TX 78680 Copyright 2006 © by Chris Owen Cover illustration by A. Squires Published with permission ISBN: 978-1-60370-314-7, 1-60370-314-4 www.torquerepress.com All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. First Torquere Press Printing: March 2008 Printed in the USA


Chapter One Hank Brodnax was sitting at the front desk, diligently studying the dust motes floating by the big window, when the door opened. A gust of hot air made the motes scatter and dance, some of them twinkling brightly in the sun. They must have been leftover glitter from Tamara Ordoyne's dress, Hank figured. She'd been pretty damn sparkly when they'd hauled her in Saturday night for being drunk in a public space. Well, that's what they said they'd brought her in for; in truth, they were trying to keep the peace. That dress had been about to start a scrimmage on Sycamore Drive, and a riot wasn't something Shady Ridge's finest were equipped to deal with. Hank tore his gaze away from the dust and tried to focus on the figure coming in the door, a big, dark shape framed by the bright light. "Can I help you?" he asked, squinting. "I hope so," the man said, moving into the small reception area. "I'm Charles Hise. New incoming officer. I was told to stop in as soon as I got to town." Hank blinked at the man, only partly because of the way his eyes were watering from the change in light. "Were you, now?" he said. He didn't know they were expecting anyone new. "What did you say your name was?" "Hise." The man stepped a little closer and dropped a folder on the desk. "Charles Hise." "Huh." Hank leaned forward and put one elbow on the desk as he flipped open the file. The top sheet was a standard cover letter introducing one Charles Hise, late of the Albany police department, to Captain Erik Casado. The signature at the bottom was completely illegible, but the typed name under it was Captain Tanya Seaberg. "Is there a problem?" Hise asked as Hank took his time flipping through the folder. "No," Hank said slowly, noting that there were hire papers, tax forms, all the crap they had to fill out for benefits, and a sealed letter from some doctor, which Hank could only assume was about Hise's fit for duty medical exam. "No problem, except no one let me know we'd hired on." He sat back in his chair and flipped the folder closed as he reached for the phone. "Huh," Hise said, his tone perfectly matching Hank's. "Imagine that." Hank paused with his finger hovering above the button to speed-dial his captain and barely managed to swallow a grin. He appreciated everything that Hise had put into those two words, but had no intention of letting Hise know that. He pushed the button and sat back again, taking a look at Hise as the phone rang in his ear. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, Hank could pick out some details other than 'large.' Hise was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and looked a little tired around the eyes. Probably not used to the heat. Or maybe it was the humidity.


"Casado," the captain barked in his ear. Under his voice, Hank could hear the clink of silverware and the murmur of many voices. "Hey, Cap, it's Hank. There's a guy here at the shop who says he's a new hire." Hank watched Hise smirk at the wording and added the descriptors 'very tall' and 'very broad' to his inventory. The man looked like some freakish combination of linebacker and marine, standing there at parade rest. Even his dark hair was regulation to a fault. "He's early." Casado didn't sound surprised or even particularly interested, and he was likely talking with his mouth full of pie. "That's all right. You can take him around over the weekend, break him in." "Cap?" Hank sat up a little straighter, losing every bit of lazy he had in him. "You heard me. Dump him into uniform -- is he right there? Let me talk to him." "But, sir." Hank glanced at the clock and then at Hise, standing there with his hands behind his back and his legs braced. "I got twenty minutes left on my shift and then I'm off for two days." And it hadn't been easy, getting Friday night through Monday morning off, either. "Wonderful, you'll have lots of free time to make sure he won't get lost on patrol. Let me talk to him. Now." Hank put on his very best cop face, the one that he hoped gave nothing away about what he was feeling, and passed the receiver to Hise. "Captain Casado," he said tightly. Hise gave him a cop face right back and took the phone without hesitation. "Hise," he said calmly, which kind of grated on Hank. Anything would have grated, really. Hank had been looking forward to a well-earned and particularly well-deserved weekend upstate where there were people waiting for him, and now it looked like he was going to be a combination tour guide and babysitter. He sat in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and crossed his arms over his chest, blatantly listening in on Hise's half of the conversation. "Yes, sir," Hise said, his gaze fixed on something on the wall above Hank's head. "Just now. Haven't even found that place to stay." There was a pause and Hank watched as Hise's brow furrowed. "Not yet, sir. I thought I was starting next Tuesday, so my things are being shipped --" He broke off and the furrow lines relaxed, the bright blue eyes almost rolling up. "No, sir. Post office box I set up when you -- " Hank admired Hise's ability to stop the reflex; he rolled his eyes all the time when he was talking to their captain. Always on the phone, of course. Never in person. "Yes, sir," Hise said. He opened his mouth to say something else and this time his eyes did roll. He listened for a long moment and then nodded. "Of course. I look forward to it." Again, he


stopped, Casado likely talking right over him. "Yes, sir," Hise said, this time looking at Hank but not rolling his eyes. He did look faintly amused, though. "Thank you, sir." He handed the receiver back to Hank and shrugged a shoulder. Hank took the phone and nodded his thanks. "Cap?" "Okay," Casado said without fanfare. "Take him around town, show him the hot spots. I want him ready to roll out with the day shift on Monday morning." Hank decided that with his weekend shot he had nothing to lose. "Cap, I think Benny and John are on all weekend, maybe they can --"

"Work their shifts," Casado said firmly. "Put in your hours for overtime and I'll sign it. Come on,

he'll be a ride-along, and it's not like he's fresh out of the academy. Just find him something to

wear until his uniforms arrive and get to work."

Hank eyed Hise, still standing in front of the desk with his neutral expression back in place.

"That could be a problem," he said, only a little sourly. "He's got to be six and a half feet tall."

Hise's lips twitched and he raised five fingers.

"Tall, huh?" Casado said thoughtfully.

"Six five, apparently. Probably about two hundred and thirty pounds." The fingers twitched.

"Make that two forty, at least."

"Huh." Casado seemed to think that over for a moment. "Whatever. Just do what you can. See

you Monday." Then he hung up.

Hank looked at the phone in his hand and sighed, then cradled the receiver. "Well," he said,

looking up at Hise. "It looks like we get to hang out this weekend."

"Guess so." Hise looked at him evenly, not quite with a cop face, but almost.

Hank stood up and offered his hand. "Hank Brodnax. Call me Hank; we pretty much go with first

names around here. Of course, that's mostly because it's a small town and half the force have the same last name, being cousins of one kind or another." Hise's mouth twitched into a grin as they shook hands. "Good enough. I'm Charlie."

That kind of surprised Hank, as he'd been expecting some northern horror like 'Chaz.' Charlie

was a good name, though, and they didn't actually have one already in the department.

"Is he always like that?" Charlie asked curiously, nodding toward the phone.


Hank tried not to grin. "Usually," he admitted, resigning himself to canceling his plans. He glanced at the clock and picked up the file Hise had given him. "I'm going to file this. You can go on out back, if you want. Through that door, straight back, last door on the right is the locker room. See if you can find an empty one. Shift change is in a few minutes, so there's likely a few boys back there that can help you out." Charlie looked at the door and nodded, even taking a couple of steps before he stopped and looked back at him. "Sorry about your weekend," he apologized. "Not your fault," Hank said. He knew it wasn't Charlie's fault and was trying hard not to blame him. "Still. It sucks." Charlie shrugged and turned, vanishing behind the door. Hank nodded, agreeing with him, and put the folder in the file drawer of the desk so Casado would find it when he came in. Then he picked up his mobile phone and scrolled through the address book to find a long distance number, not terribly surprised when the call went through to voicemail. "Hey," he said after the beep. "It's me. I won't be making it up this weekend, sorry. We got a new hire in and I have to show him around town. Call me, maybe we can all work out something for next month. Have fun, and don't drink my share of the beer." He disconnected and headed to the back after making sure that the door buzzer was activated in case someone came through the front, and nodded to the guys in the bullpen. They only had one real office in the building, along the side next to the short hall that led to the interview rooms. That office was for the captain; the rest of the force shared the big room, scattered with desks and tables and lined with white boards. It was pretty rudimentary, really, but it worked. They had a few more rooms upstairs for everyone to use if they needed privacy or just a quiet spot, along with a kitchen. The lock-up was in the basement, and at the back of building was the locker room and a few bunks. Hank went into the locker room and took a fast look around; it wasn't hard to find Charlie against the far wall, head and shoulders above the officer he was talking to. Hank forced back a knowing grin and nodded to himself. He should have figured it wouldn't take long for Nancy to strike up a conversation. A few people were looking at Charlie curiously as they got ready to come on shift or head home, and more than one raised eyebrow was aimed at Hank himself. Deciding it would be easiest to just make a general announcement, Hank put two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. "Listen up," he called out as silence fell. "This here is Charlie Hise. He's a new officer with us, due to start Monday morning. Be friendly, make yourselves known, all right? He's doing ride-along with me this weekend, so if you see us out be better than your usual selves and say hello. Let the man think we're nice folk for a week or two." There was a chorus of laughter and a murmur of voices saying hello to Charlie, who nodded and looked vaguely uncomfortable with the attention.


"Spread the word," Hank added as everyone got back to what they'd been doing. "It would be good if most everyone knows his name, at least." He lifted his chin at Charlie and asked, "Did you find a locker yet?" Charlie nodded, one big hand opening an empty locker in the corner. "Got stuff in the truck, if we have time." "Knock yourself out," Hank said as he opened his own locker. "I'm going to clean up a bit before we get going. First stop on this mission is supper." They could grab a couple of burgers at Fry's and then take a quick tour. It wouldn't take long; there wasn't much to see. Charlie nodded and headed out the back door, letting in a flow of warm air and two more guys coming on shift. "Who was that?" Danny Murray asked, opening the locker next to Hank's. "New guy, name's Charlie." Hank changed his shirt for a fresher one and closed his locker, then looked around. "You know if we have a shirt or something that'll fit him?" "Yeah, right," Danny said, shaking his head with a laugh. "Might be a department T-shirt in the box." Hank nodded and started to look for the box, which was likely shoved back behind something on a forgotten shelf. Charlie came back in with a gym bag in one hand. "Any tape around?" He unzipped the bag and started putting things in his locker, just the usual extra razor and stuff like that. It would probably be a few days before he started sticking photos up, though Hank did see him put a small, black case on the top shelf, at the back. It was probably his old badge, Hank figured, and a nice thing to keep. "I think so," Hank said, starting to look for tape instead of T-shirts. "Casado wants you looking like you're in uniform, but we don't have anything." "My new uniforms should be here by Monday," Charlie said, as he took a pair of work shoes out of the bag. "But I do have standard uniform pants and a shirt that'll be close enough, if you think that'll do." "It should." Hank found a roll of masking tape and tossed it over. "We'll take your vehicle. Easier to know a place if you're the one doing the driving." "Makes sense," Charlie said, digging a marker out of his bag. He wrote his name on a length of tape and stuck it on the outside of his locker, then pulled a pair of pants from the bottom of his bag. "Give me two minutes."


"Sure." Hank leaned on the storage unit and watched Charlie stuff the bag into the bottom of the locker. "You can gas up at the pumps in the lot." Charlie nodded and stripped off his T-shirt, tossing it on the bench behind him. He reached into the locker for his clean shirt, and was luckily not paying attention when Hank's jaw dropped. Hank had seen big men before. He'd seen fit men before, too, even more than a few ripped and cut bodies that showed off every hour at the gym. But he'd never seen it on so grand a scale. Charlie stood there in his jeans and toed off his sneakers as he examined the collar of his shirt, frowning slightly at it. "Huh," he said, sneakers finally off and one hand on the button of his jeans. He popped the button, put the shirt on and left it hanging open while he unzipped. "One locker room?" he asked, shoving denim down his hips. "Yeah," Hank said, suddenly finding something else to look at. "How many women in the department?" Charlie asked, sounding merely curious, not like he'd mind if any of them wandered in to find him standing there in his -- Hank checked -- tightywhities. "Four out of twenty," Hank said, wondering how the hell someone could actually wear those damn things and make them look so good. "It's not a lot, but to tell the truth, we don't get a lot of women applying. They don't tend to change their clothes in here." Charlie snorted a laugh as he bent over and started putting on his work pants. "Wonder why?" he asked, tugging his pants up over his ass. Hank wrenched his gaze away. Again. Charlie didn't notice at all, and in a moment he had his work shoes on, his shirt done up and tucked in, and they were ready to go. "I parked in the lot," Charlie said, his keys in one hand and his laundry in the other. "I didn't see the pumps, though." "They're around the side," Hank explained, leading the way out and pointing around the corner. "I'll meet you there." "Okay." Charlie took off at a long-legged saunter that ate up the distance to his vehicle, a late model Chevy pickup with a cap on it, covered in road dust. From where he was, Hank could see the back was full of boxes. He wondered if he'd wind up helping Charlie move. It was almost a sure thing that part of the weekend would involve looking for apartments. With a sigh for his lost trip out of town, Hank got his keys out and went to unlock the pumps. ***


They took a swing by a few of the highlights that Shady Ridge had to offer on their way to Fry's, simply because they were on the way. "That's the high school, always good for one or two calls a month about vandals or someone pulling the fire alarm," Hank told Charlie. "And once a year or so we go in with the sheriff's drug dog and walk the halls. Never found anything more than a joint or two, but that doesn't mean much." Charlie nodded and pointed to the building across from the school on the opposite corner. "And that would be the middle school?" "Yep. We're invited in there for the coming-of-age films about drunk driving. They don't really take." "Same all over," Charlie said, like he knew. They drove through town and Hank pointed out a few of the stores, the bowling alley, the movie theater. "There's a couple of bars -- we can wander through them later -- and tomorrow we can do the outlying areas. I expect you're not really interested in a late night if you were on the road all day." Charlie gave him a rueful grin. "All I'm really interested in is food, a hot shower and a flat place to fall down," he admitted. "And I'm willing to skip the shower." "Well, Fry's is just up the block," Hank said, pointing to the sign. "We can get you fed at least. Do you have a place to stay tonight?" "Casado gave me an address, but no phone number. I think it's a boarding house or something. He said they'd take care of me, anyway." "Okay," Hank said as Charlie pulled into a parking space a few doors down from Fry's. "We can aim to get there by about eight; that should be reasonable. And if they're as clueless as I was about you turning up, that'll still be early enough to find you something else." Charlie nodded and they went into Fry's, where Hank ordered his usual meal of a burger with double everything and fries and Charlie looked intently at the menu for a few minutes before asking for a steak, salad, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables and a side of bread. He ate it all, too, in about the same amount of time it took Hank to finish his lone burger and fries drowned in ketchup. Of course, it helped that Charlie didn't even speak between bites, inhaling his meal like it was the first food he'd seen in three days and washing it all down with two glasses of water. "You were hungry," Hank said as Charlie wiped his mouth and sat back with a contented sigh.


"A little." Charlie grinned, and left Hank wondering if he was being serious or if he was teasing. "So, what now?" Hank tossed a few bills on the table for a tip and led the way to the register so they could pay. "Next up is the bars, I think. I'll at least point them out and fill you on the clientele you can expect in each; that's just a fancy way of me saying I'll show you the beer hall and the place where they serve cocktails with straws. You'll probably be able to figure it out from there." "I'd bet that they both have their share of dust-ups," Charlie said, handing over his credit card. "And that the younger crowd hits the dance club and that's where the action is on a Saturday night." Hank nodded and paid his bill. "Yup. And then there's the street racing, the crowds in the parking lots, and the drunks on the roads. Add in a few domestics, the odd joker trying to make a living growing pot, and you've got a pretty clear picture of crime in Shady Ridge." "Sounds just my speed." Charlie accepted his card back, signed the slip, and gave Joleen a smile that should have melted glass. "Thank you," he said politely. "Any time," Joleen said with a dreamy smile, leaning on the counter and looking way up. Hank wondered if her knees had gone weak like his had. "Thanks, Joleen," he said with a slight edge to his voice, hoping to bring her back to Earth. "No problem, Hank," she said, passing him his change and missing his outstretched hand by a good two inches, her gaze never leaving Charlie. Hank rolled his eyes and saved his money before it could hit the counter. "He'll be back," he told her. "Oh, awesome," she said, her voice as dreamy as her smile. Charlie just grinned and nodded to her. Hank figured if he had a hat on, he would have tipped it. Leaving Joleen to swoon, they went back to the truck and climbed in. "Head west," Hank said, pointing. "We'll take a peek in at the roadhouse, then head back into town and find out where you're staying." They drove in near silence, Charlie looking and driving, and Hank murmuring directions as needed. It wasn't a long drive at all, and they pulled into the nearly empty parking lot long before even the diehard regulars would be turning up. "Welcome to the roadhouse," Hank said, opening his door. "Does it have a name?" Charlie asked, peering at the chipped and faded sign above the door.


"Used to. But it's just the roadhouse now." The inside was almost as deserted as the parking lot. Ted Everly, the owner, was wiping down the bar and his wife Sue Anne was washing tables. Both looked up as Hank and Charlie came in. "Thank God it's just you," Ted said, his voice rough as crushed rock. "I was scared we'd have to start up the jukebox early."

Sue Anne snorted. "As if you won't be pickin' out songs long before there's anyone to hear 'em."

"That's because I only get to dance with you at supper time," he said with a wink.

"Oh, stop your bull," she said, with a toss of her head, but Hank thought she looked pretty

pleased, all the same.

Hank grinned and shook his head. "Charlie, this is Ted and Sue Anne. They're good people. Get

to know 'em, and they'll be able to fill you in on most everyone in town."

Charlie nodded and offered his hand to Ted. "Charlie Hise. Nice to meet you."

"New cop?" Ted asked, his eyebrow lifting at Hank.

"Yep." Hank wandered away, over to Sue Anne. "Hey, sugar," he said with a grin. "Anything

new?"

"Nope, just him," she said, grinning back. She leaned on the table she'd just washed and looked

at Charlie. "Damn. He's a big one."

"Yeah, from up north. They grow 'em big up there, you know."

"That why you're always taking trips?" she asked, not even looking at him.

"You know it," he said with laugh.

"Try scaling that one," she said, this time with the barest of sideways looks.

"Not a chance in hell," he said firmly. "And don't you go playin' matchmaker. He's big and I

won't even pretend I could take him in a fair fight. I couldn't even take him if I cheated and both his hands were tied." "Kinky," Sue Anne said with a wink.

Hank actually sputtered. "You are a mean and nasty woman," he said, gathering up his dignity.

"You're going to go to hell."

"Damn straight," she said, grinning at him. "Tell me you don't want to, though."


Hank's mobile phone rang, saving him from answering. "Excuse me," he said primly, fishing it out of his pocket. "I have to talk to someone who isn't evil." Sue Anne didn't seem bothered in the least, laughing even as he walked away from her and answered the call without looking. "Brodnax," he said, watching Charlie and Ted lean on the bar and talk about something. "The fuck you mean, you're not coming?" Hank rubbed a hand through his hair and turned to look out through the dingy window at the parking lot. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I want to be there." "Then tell your captain to screw off, get in your rig and haul your ass up here. We're waiting on you." "I can't, Billy, you know that. We got this new hire in and I have to show him around, get him ready to ride. I tried to get out of it." "Hank, it took the four of us weeks to move shifts around and call in favors to get this weekend. It's not right that he can make you miss it." Hank sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. Believe me, I'd rather be drinking beer and watching movies and playing poker with you guys." There was a long pause and Billy said, "Where are you?" "Working." "Right. Okay. Can't talk." It was Billy's turn to sigh, and in the background Hank could hear voices laughing and talking. "He's not gonna make it," Billy said, his voice distorted like he'd held the phone away. "Hank!" one of the background voices yelled. "Get up here on Saturday night and I'll blow you twice!" "Hear that?" Billy asked. "I hear." Hank looked back at Charlie, blinking when he realized Charlie was looking right back at him. "It's a small fucking town you live in," Billy wheedled. "It's Friday night. Do the after dark tour now, the daytime tomorrow. Get up here by eight or nine tomorrow night, head home at noon on Sunday and take care of the rest then. What do you say?"


Hank looked at Charlie and Charlie looked back, his eyebrow going up in a question. "I say y'all are going to get me fired. See you tomorrow night." He hung up before Billy could say anything more. "Problem?" Charlie asked, walking to him, hand going to one hip in a reflex Hank knew in his blood. "Nope. Just a friend bitching me out about the weekend." Charlie winced. "Yeah. About that... were you heading out of town?" "Just a couple of hours away. It's not a big deal, really," Hank lied. "You done here?" "Yeah, I guess." Charlie lifted a hand and waved to Ted, who waved his rag back at them, and they left. Hank pointedly ignored Sue Anne's giggles. "Where to?" Charlie asked, starting the truck and stifling a yawn. "Back the way we came, but hang a right onto Kennedy. We'll go up a block or so and I'll show you where you'll find a few of our frequent flyers." They drove back into the town proper and Hank didn't point out the turn; Charlie made it anyway, to Hank's approval. "This is an okay area," Hank said. "Blue collar, but that's all we really have here. People work hard in this town, and mostly it's quiet. We get domestics from all over, but you'll find that we're up here once a week or so for noise complaints." He pointed out a couple of houses that had teenagers with a tendency to crank their stereos, and the garage where Kyle and Dylan Jacobs' band rehearsed. Then they swung back to Main and parked outside Miss Kitty's. "I wouldn't have thought that a town this size would support two bars," Charlie said as they knocked at the door. Miss Kitty's wouldn't open for another couple of hours. "Different crowds," Hank said, banging again. He could hear the low thump of the bass line and knew there was someone in there getting ready for the night. "Miss Kitty's is only open Thursday through Saturday." The door opened just as Hank finished banging and Kevin Ryder peered out. "Oh, hey. Cops already?" he asked with a grin. Hank snorted and shook his head. "Hey, Kevin. This is Charlie Hise; he's new. I just want to walk him around before you open, so he can figure out the layout before he winds up in here breaking up a fight or something."


"Ain't no fights in my place," Kevin said mildly. He pulled the door all the way open and looked Charlie up and down. "And if you'd be so kind as to just stand by the door for a while when we open, I'm pretty sure it'll stay that way." Charlie laughed and nodded. "I bet. But I think moonlighting as a bouncer would cause some trouble for me, somewhere down the line." "Still," Kevin said, and Hank started to worry that he was serious. "There's a lot to be said for having someone like you nice and visible." They started walking across the empty dance floor to the bar, the chairs still up on the small tables or pushed back against the wall. There was a mop in a bucket leaning on the bar, and Kevin pointed down. "Watch it, wet floor." He went behind the bar and shut off the music, to Hank's great relief. "Do you get many fights?" Charlie asked curiously. "Nah, people are too busy dancing and drinking to fight. And if they do, it's outside. Not much goes on in here. If I have y'all in, it's usually because someone's reported drugs in the john or I think someone's more trouble than I want to subject my boys to. You're here, what, Hank? Couple times a year?" "About that," Hank agreed. "In the parking lot a hell of a lot more often." "Public lot," Kevin said easily. "True enough." Charlie looked around, went down the small hall to the bathrooms and then came back out. "Easy layout, anyway. Some of the places I've been in have three floors and catwalks. You don't want to be chasing drunks around a place like that." "I'd guess not." It sounded like a hassle to Hank; he liked his drunks out in the open. They nodded to Kevin, thanked him for his time, and went back to Charlie's truck. It was still pretty early, not even eight, but Hank thought Charlie was starting to look a little frayed around the edges. "Let's head back to the station," Hank said when they got in truck. "You can drop me off and go to... where are you going, anyway?" "Uh. Hang on." Charlie shifted in his seat and pulled out his wallet. "The captain gave me an address... here it is. 431 Mountain View. Is that far out?" "No, not really," Hank said, staring at him. "Are you kidding me?"


"No, why?" Charlie asked, passing the slip of paper over. "It's not a graveyard, is it? Lame-ass joke on the new guy?" "Not hardly." Hank glared at the address, neatly written on a scrap of letterhead from Charlie's old force. "It's my house."


Chapter Two It took almost five minutes to convince Charlie that the whole address thing wasn't a big deal, although it was. Charlie wasn't dumb and he looked at Hank with a steady gaze and demanded to know what the hell was up with Casado. "He's just... he does things," Hank said, floundering. He had no idea how to explain Casado. "He's in charge, he does his job. But he's also got this weird sense of humor, and he's a little clueless about the way what he does affects other people." Or, as other people had put it, he didn't care as long as everything went the way he wanted it to. It was results that mattered. "So he thought it would be funny to send me off to your house when I hit town? He didn't know when I was coming or that you'd wind up showing me around. What was the point of sending me to you, when the odds were you wouldn't have a clue who I was?" Charlie asked, his eyes narrowing. Hank had a sudden flash of an image, of Charlie actually pissed about something. It wasn't pretty, though it was damn hot. Assuming, of course, that Charlie wasn't mad at him. He shrugged one shoulder and sighed. "Well, it was probably a joke on me, not you. And I do have room." Charlie's eyes narrowed even more. "Does he have it in for you for some reason?" Hank blinked. "No, I don't think so. He doesn't have any reason to." He looked around, discomforted by the idea. "Look, let's just go pick up my car and I'll show you the way to my place, all right? Tomorrow we can find you something else, while we're wasting the day sightseeing. If nothing else, you'll learn the town." Charlie nodded curtly and started the truck up, obviously lost in his own thoughts. That was just fine with Hank; he had no idea what to say, anyway. When they got to the station, Hank did a quick scan of the parking lot to see if Casado was in, but didn't see his truck. It was probably just as well, really; he wasn't sure if he was expected to kick up a fuss about his lost weekend and his unexpected guest or not. His gut was telling him that just going with the flow was the right course. But then, that's what he always did, and maybe Casado was counting on that. Thinking hard, he waved to Charlie and got in his car, leading Charlie home like a lost lamb. He didn't like the idea that Casado was playing him. He didn't like that Charlie was getting that impression of their town, their force, or him. And he especially didn't like that Charlie might think he was some county bumpkin who couldn't see that he was being made a fool of. If he was. Things just ran a certain way in Shady Ridge, and Hank was pretty sure that it was a whole different way than what Charlie was used to. Still. The impression sucked, and if he had to, Hank would bring it up with the captain. Hopefully, though, he could kind of just explain things to Charlie.


He drove home, one eye on the rearview mirror to make sure he didn't lose Charlie, and pulled into his drive. He hoped to hell that he had clean sheets on the guest bed and then he hoped that the bed was even long enough for Charlie to sleep in it comfortably. Charlie pulled in behind him and Hank waited until Charlie'd retrieved a bag from the back of his truck, then went to unlock the front door. As they went in, he ignored his own packed bag waiting for him in the entry to the living room, sparing it only a glance to make sure he'd remembered to zipper it closed. Showing off his toothbrush and the box of condoms he'd put in at the last moment wasn't exactly the impression he wanted to make. Hank went right to the kitchen and got two cans of beer from the fridge before going back to where Charlie was standing uncertainly by the door. "Make yourself at home," he said, holding a can out to Charlie. Charlie nodded and smiled a little as he dropped his bag next to Hank's and took the beer. "Thanks," he said, opening it and taking a swallow before he toed off his shoes. "Want a tour?" "Nah. I'll find the important rooms soon enough." Hank nodded and went the rest of the way into the living room and threw himself onto the couch. "It's pretty easy," he said, pointing. "Kitchen. Bathroom down the hall on the left. The guest room is the last door on the right. Take a load off." Charlie took the easy chair by the window and sprawled, his legs stretched way out in front. Hank figured that's where most of his height was, 'cause he sure didn't seem that tall when they were in the truck. "Nice place," Charlie said, looking around. "It fits me," Hank agreed. "So. What the hell are you doing in Shady Ridge? Not that it isn't a nice place, but people usually move away from here or back to here, but not just to here out of the blue." Charlie grinned and drank from his can before checking his watch. "You waited about two hours longer than I'd figured. I've heard about small towns and how everyone has to know everything." He winked, his grin going a little crooked, and Hank took the words as a tease and not anything negative. "Get used to it," Hank told him, grinning back. "Maybe get a pat answer down about how you've always liked the idea of mountains and valleys and watched too many movies as a youngster." "Well, that's true enough." Charlie slouched a bit more. "Do you know a guy named Tyler Wells?" Hank thought for a moment, trying to place the name. "Had an older sister named Tanya," he finally said. "And a kid brother named Tyson. His parents were big on the letter T, I guess.


Tanya was in my class, but they moved before the end of high school. Their daddy got a job somewhere." Charlie nodded. "New York. Tyler went through the academy with me, talked all the time about Shady Ridge. He made it sound so quiet and pleasant. I've had a rough couple of years, and when it was time for a change, I remembered what he said. Even called him up when I saw that your department was hiring, but he's got a kid now and wasn't ready to pull up stakes to come back." "Kind of a big change for you," Hank said mildly, drinking his beer. He hoped there were a few more in the fridge; it felt like a three-beer night and he hadn't been expecting to share. "Like I said. Hard couple of years." Charlie drank, tipping the can way back and swallowing rapidly. "My patrol partner had some trouble, both at home and on the job. It got really fucking stressful near the end. She was getting kind of unreliable. She finally left, right about the time my relationship hit its final stages." Hank winced. "Nice." "I've had better times," Charlie said with a nod. "So, the department put me in with a slew of temporary partners, covering shifts and that kind of thing. Only for a couple of weeks, really, but at the same time I was fighting over custody of our dog and selling the house, which was just in my name. Good for me, I guess, but there was a bit of a blow up about money and settlements. When the house closed and I lost the dog, I figured my life was as poor a country song as was ever written and it was time to move." "Jesus, I'd do the same, I guess." Hank finished his beer and stood up. "Want another?" "Sure. That'd be good." Charlie finished off his can and passed it to Hank as he went by. "Thanks." "You're buying next time." Charlie laughed. "You got it. Hey, do you have a newspaper kicking around? I can at least read the ads for apartments." Hank nodded and went to the kitchen, bringing the paper, beer and a bag of potato chips back with him. He dropped a beer and the paper off with Charlie and kept the chips to himself, flipping on the TV as he settled again. When he found the news, he sat and watched, oddly at home with the sound of Charlie reading the paper and turning pages. He'd barely made a dent in the chips when Charlie gave a low whistle. "What's up?" Hank asked, looking over. "Nothing, really," Charlie said thoughtfully, looking at the paper. "I mean, I knew house prices would be cheaper here than in Albany, but I didn't expect this."


Hank snorted and grinned. "Bet you can find a nice little place for not too much." "Looks like." Charlie looked around and picked up a pen off the coffee table and started circling things. "I'll rent for a bit, get a feel for the town, but damn. With what I got for the house, I'll have a pretty good down payment." "Good for you," Hank told him, genuinely pleased. Or perhaps he was just happy with the way two beers drunk too fast felt. "So you think you'll be staying on permanently, then?" "I intend to, yes," Charlie said, distracted. "I don't do much by halves. That's partly why my relationship went to hell. I expect. I don't do flexible very well." Hank bit his tongue very hard and made himself watch TV, pointedly not dwelling on how flexible Charlie would be, given the right scenario. He also decided against a third beer, and when the weather was done he stood up. "Look," he said apologetically. "I know it's early, but I'm going to turn in. I had an early start to the day." "No, no, it's okay," Charlie interrupted, folding the newspaper up. "I drove all day; I'm whipped. What time do you want to get going in the morning?" "Well, we don't have to be anywhere at a specific time," Hank said, going to lock the doors. "We can just play it by ear. I'll be up by seven, though. How do you like your coffee?" "Strong," Charlie said, picking up his bag. "That I can do." Hank took the beer cans to the kitchen and rinsed them out, then set up the coffee maker. "This way," he said, leading Charlie to the guest room. "Nice room," Charlie said, following him in and looking around. "I just hope the bed's long enough for you." Hank flipped back the quilt, took a quick look in the closet to make sure there were blankets, and nodded. "The sheets are fresh, and there's an extra pillow in the bottom drawer." "Thanks," Charlie said with a warm smile. It wasn't quite the heated one he'd given Joleen at Fry's but it was close. "I appreciate you putting me up, Hank." "Not a problem," Hank said, easing past him and going out the door. "Like I said, I've got room." "Night," Charlie said softly as Hank headed into the bathroom. Hank washed up fast and brushed his teeth, then went to his room, trying to convince himself he wasn't hiding. He stripped in the dark, listening to Charlie run water in the bathroom, and slid into bed without setting his alarm clock. He wouldn't need it, never did.


It was weird having someone in the house, an odd kind of comfortable he'd forgotten he liked. It was early to be in bed. Far too early, really, and Hank found himself trying not to toss and turn within a few minutes. He listened as Charlie went to his room, heard the sounds of him unpacking a few things and then the subtle creak of bedsprings as Charlie lay down. For a long time, Hank stared at the ceiling and when his clock told him it had been almost an hour, he realized that he hadn't heard Charlie so much as roll over. It took some kind of serious exhaustion to knock a man out like that, Hank figured. Assuming Charlie was indeed asleep, Hank relaxed and set about making himself as comfortable as he could; it took a fair amount of rolling around and pillow arranging to convince himself that he was actually ready to sleep, but he got there. Eventually. When he woke up it was dark as pitch, still hours before dawn, and all that he knew was that something wasn't right, wasn't normal in his house. He barely opened his eyes before he slid his hand along the mattress toward the nightstand, reaching for his personal weapon that was in the drawer. He didn't know what was wrong, just that it felt different. Hank heard a noise and froze, listening intently for it to be repeated. When it came again he went weak with relief, recognizing the squeak of springs from the guest bedroom. Suddenly remembering Charlie, he took a deep breath, hoping to head off the adrenaline surge he knew was coming. Hank lay still, listening to his heart beating and the sound of the other bed creaking. It took him a moment to realize that both were fast and rhythmic. "Ah, shit," he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut. He tried not to hear, but it was too late. The adrenaline rush hit and he had a perfect, absolutely clear image in his brain of Charlie jerking off in the queen-sized bed. All at once, there he was, trapped by his sympathetic erection and his own senses. The curse of a too-strong imagination was showing him colorful pictures of Charlie lying with splayed legs, the blankets and sheets bunched at the end of the bed, one huge hand around his cock. Hank threw one arm over his own face and tried to pretend that he was totally alone in his house, that there wasn't a huge mountain of a man stroking off about fifteen feet away. When, unbidden, his free hand slipped down his belly and curled around his prick, he bit his lip hard and yanked his hand back to a safer area. "God damn it," he cursed into the dark, low enough that there was no way in hell Charlie would hear him. If Charlie was capable of hearing anything. By the sound of the bed, Charlie was nearing the end, the low rock and grind getting fast, as if he was hardly moving his hips at all, just his hand in short and tight strokes, probably squeezing just under the head of his cock, pressing where he'd feel it most. Hank clenched his jaw tight as he gathered up a handful of sheets to keep himself from joining in. Not that it made any difference; he was keyed in by that point, could almost smell Charlie's sex, could almost taste it. His own cock throbbed and lifted and he had to breathe through his nose to keep from moaning.


The creaking suddenly stopped and Hank held his breath, waiting. He may as well have been in the same room, he was so into it, so very much right there with Charlie. His body was taut, waiting in the endless moment, and when Charlie moved, just enough, Hank arched his neck and jammed his hand under the covers to grab at himself. He heard Charlie moan softly and that was it. Hank stroked himself twice and came, his body rippling with the effort of being silent, his chest aching with the need to pant and gasp as he soaked his sheets. Morning couldn't come fast enough, he thought, afraid to even move to clean up. And when morning came, he was getting that man out of his home, come hell or high water. *** True to his word, Hank was up before seven and had breakfast on the table by seven-fifteen. Charlie met him there, damp from the shower and dressed in clean clothes that were close enough in style to the day before to be considered his interim uniform. "What's first?" Charlie asked, helping himself to cereal. Hank poured coffee for both of them and put the milk on the table. He knew he was keeping himself busy so that he wouldn't have to actually look at Charlie, but he hoped it wouldn't be noticed. "Well," he said, "we'll do some more driving. Take you to the Sheriff, maybe. We work with them a lot. When it's later in the day we can look at some apartments while we're at it and, if you want, we can head south to the big mall and see about getting you a mobile phone." "Got one," Charlie said, pouring milk into his coffee. "Just need to get it activated." "Easy enough, then," Hank said, sitting and putting a plate of eggs on the table. "We can do that here in town." Charlie nodded and they ate quickly, Hank pleased that he'd made enough food. He knew what it was like to cook for two people, and he could cook for ten, but two and a half was tricky. "That's not really a whole lot to keep us busy for two more days," Charlie said tentatively. "True enough," Hank agreed. "It's a quiet place. We can keep an ear on the radio, though, and go observe if anything interesting happens or if one of the frequent fliers turns up." Charlie nodded and started rinsing the dishes, which Hank thought was pretty nice of him, being a guest and all. "All right," Charlie said. "Oh, I don't suppose the bank is open on Saturday mornings?" "Nope, but if you need cash there's a machine."


Charlie shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. I was just going to see about transferring my accounts, but I can do that Monday or some other time, I guess. Ready to go?" Hank nodded and scooped up his keys. "Here," he said, tossing them to Charlie. "No sense lugging all your possessions with us. You're driving, though." Charlie grinned. "This is a big step, letting me drive your car." "Yeah, it's a commitment," Hank said, rolling his eyes. Honestly. He refused to entertain the thought that Charlie was flirting with him. Men didn't flirt with Hank. They occasionally had sex with him, but flirting wasn't something that happened in his universe. They headed into town and stopped at the station long enough for Hank to introduce Charlie to a couple more people and find that Casado wasn't in. Then they started driving, beginning at one end of the town and heading to the other, going street by street. It was an okay morning, really, if boring for them both. Charlie had a good memory for street names and once he'd worked out that the town was, in fact, very small, he seemed to relax a bit. "Am I going to be tested on this?" he asked, glancing at Hank as he turned onto yet another tiny cul-de-sac and looped around. "Maybe," Hank grinned. "I can start now. Let's go to 1547 Woodward." "Woodward stops at the nine hundred block," Charlie said. "You pass. Let's get coffee." Charlie nodded and drove them over to the little strip mall without needing direction and parked in front of the coffee shop. "I can do my phone while we're here," he said, pointing to the telephone company's storefront. "Sure thing." Hank led them into the coffee shop and bought them both muffins, then waited while Charlie went in to see about getting his phone hooked up. He hoped they didn't kick up a fuss about Charlie not having a home mailing address yet. Apparently they didn't mind billing to a post office box, because when Charlie came out he was finishing the last of his coffee and pushing buttons on his phone. "Be just a minute," he said, looking at the display. "Not in a rush," Hank said, leaning on the car. Charlie nodded and put the phone to his ear, listening as he tossed the empty cup in his hand into a trash bin. "Hey, it's me," he said, suddenly smiling. "Got my phone set up. Store the number, all right?" He looked off into the middle distance and nodded to himself as he leaned on the car beside Hank. "No, I'm good," he said. "It's a nice town. Already got me working, though. Doing a ride-along all weekend." His voice dropped and Hank watched as Charlie's head dropped, too,


the man looking at his shoes. "Yeah. I know. Trust me, I know. It's not just me, it screwed up Hank's plans, too." Hank raised an eyebrow and looked at Charlie, not even pretending not to eavesdrop. "Nah, he had the weekend off, got saddled with me. I'll call you when I have a schedule, okay? We can try for a couple of weeks from now." Hank nudged Charlie with his elbow, hoping he wasn't stepping where he wasn't welcome. "I'm taking off for the night," he said in a low voice. "You can, too." Charlie's head snapped around. "Hold up," he said into the phone. "You're what?" Hank shrugged one shoulder. "Worked last night. All day today. We're not officially on call, so I'm out of here, later. I mean, you're nice and all, but I had plans for my weekend. I figure I'm good for one night. So, you and me, we can be back at my place by noon tomorrow and we're good. If Casado flips out I'll handle it." Nodding slowly, Charlie didn't look away from Hank's face as he said, "Yeah, I'll be there tonight. Same as we planned." Hank smiled to himself as Charlie said his goodbyes. He was going to do what he'd planned, too. And damn, but if he didn't need it.


Chapter Three Hank drove along the little row of cottages and looked for the vehicles he knew would be lined up in front of one. The four of them always stayed at the same place, and it was like putting on an old shirt to find his spot, slipping his car between Corey's truck and Josh's jeep. It was coming on full dark and he was later than he'd hoped to be, thanks to crappy traffic. His bag was on the front seat beside him, and as he shut off the engine and let the car go still, Hank unzipped it with one hand, reaching inside to grab the box of condoms. Then he picked up the bag and headed in, stopping only long enough to lock the car behind him. The cottage door opened with a bump of his hip and Hank walked into the smell of slightly stale air, popcorn and beer warring for domination over the lingering scent of sex and male sweat. Josh and Billy were sprawled on one of the two double beds, watching TV, and Corey was sitting in the chair at the desk, drinking a beer. "About fucking time," Billy said, rolling all the way over Josh to get to his feet. "Hey." Josh pulled him back, yanking hard on Billy's briefs. Corey was the only one actually dressed. "Hey," Hank said, dropping his bag and tearing open the box in his hand. "I'll be in the shower. If you want it, come and get it." Without pausing to admire them or even saying hello, he crossed the room and went into the bathroom, waving a strip of condoms behind him. He had both shoes off and was undoing his jeans when he heard the sound of Corey's chair hitting the floor and a tussle starting up. It made him grin at himself in the mirror, the three of them fighting over him like that. Of course, it was just because he was ready to go and the three of them were probably all spent, but still. It was flattering. He got undressed and started the water in the shower, listening to Billy bitch and Josh explain why it was his turn, but he already knew who'd be in there with him. Hank checked to make sure there was lube in the stall and got in, tearing the foil off a rubber. "Jesus Christ, those two need another beer or six," Corey said, coming in and closing the door behind him. "What do you need?" Hank asked, rolling his shoulders under the spray of hot water, one hand putting the rubber on his cock. He'd been hard since he'd left Charlie at his house, and the drive up had done nothing to calm him down. Too much time to think, he guessed. Corey laughed softly as he undressed, folding his jeans and putting them on the tiny counter. "Well, now. A million dollars would be nice. But I'll take what you got." He peeled off his Tshirt and tossed it in the sink, then turned his back to Hank and took off his briefs, bending low to do it.


Hank growled. "I'm so not in the mood for a tease, Cor." "I didn't think so." Corey said, turning around and displaying his naked body. He was lean and long, all arms and legs and long, slim cock. "How's the water?" he asked, stepping into the shower and turning his back to Hank. "Wet." Hank bent, resting his chest on Corey's back as the tube of lube got tossed back in the soap dish. "And hot," Corey gasped, his back curling away from Hank. Hank soothed him with a kiss at the base of the neck and slipped his fingers between Corey's legs, spreading lube over the shaved balls and the softer-than-silk skin behind them. "I like it hot," he whispered, teasing around Corey's hole. "And I like it hard. You said you didn't want a tease." "I don't, Corey. I don't." Hank pushed his fingers in and Corey gasped again, then whimpered when Hank pulled his hand away almost immediately. "Had either of them in you today?" Hank asked, spreading more lube over himself. Corey nodded, his head bobbing twice before hanging low. "Good." Hank squeezed his dick roughly, pleasure already zinging through him, and guided himself one-handed. He rubbed the head of cock around Corey's ass and then pushed in, holding Corey's hip tight with his other hand. "Slow, now," he mumbled. "Go slow." "You or me?" Corey said to the wall, his legs spreading a tiny bit. "Fuck. Give me more." Hank shook his head to clear the water droplets dripping from his hair. "Easy," he said, voice more a rumble than anything else. He flexed his hips, rocking gently with just the head of his cock in Corey's ass. "Nice tan," he managed to say, every fiber of his being resisting just shoving in and fucking Corey hard. He'd last all of about two strokes that way and he was tired of getting off in short bursts. "Like that?" Corey asked, his head even lower. He was braced with both hands on the shower wall, his back arching and his butt stuck out. Not a single tan line stood out on his skin, though he was a gorgeous burnished gold color. "Swim naked in my pool." "Shit," Hank shuddered, picturing that. Corey in blue water, arms slicing through the air and then cutting the surface. "I'll come and watch, some day," he lied. "Right." Corey laughed. Then he moaned and Hank saw his hands flex on the wall, ready to push himself back.


"Oh, no you don't," Hank said with a grunt, doing it before Corey could. He plunged in, balls

deep, and groaned. "Jesus fuck, don't move an inch. Don't even twitch, Cor."

Corey threw back his head, one arm looping back and around Hank's hips. "Christ. Come on!

Don't lock up on me."

Hank bit down on Corey's shoulder and tried to think about Casado, about picking up drunks

who puked on the sidewalk, about anything but the way Corey felt around him and the way there

was water flowing in the minuscule places between them, tickling his balls. Tentatively, he eased

back a bit and thrust.

"Yeah," Corey said, letting go and leaning forward to hold the wall again. "That's it, do it. Fuck

me, Hank. Make up for making me wait a day."

Hank bit his lip and thrust again, going far slower than he wanted to. But his balls were heavy

and hot, and Corey's ass was a beautiful thing; it was easier when he closed his eyes. "Stupid

job," he muttered, gliding in again.

"Stupid boss," Corey corrected. "And stupid new hire."

Hank swore and plowed into him, three times.

"Shit!" Corey's legs spread wide and his hands slipped on the wall. "Is that good or bad?"

"Do you have to make me talk when we're fucking?" Hank demanded, almost pulling out.

"It's not my fault!" Corey protested. "It's not like you use words, anyway. I can tell more about

your moods by the way you suck cock and fuck than anything you say. And your cock is telling

me that your new partner is either a jerk or you want to ride him like a Harley."

"Shut the fuck up," Hank ordered, trying not to laugh. For good measure, he reached around and

started stroking Corey's prick.

"Ah, the riding thing," Corey said before he started wiggling. "Tighter. Oh, shit, yeah. Like that. I don't mind being a surrogate, as long as I get to come, too." "Ain't like that," Hank said, jacking him tighter and slower. "Swear."

Corey looked back at him, smiling. "Doesn't matter if it is, Hank. Not in this for the flowers and

candy."

"Just for the cock, huh?" Hank asked, rocking his hips.

"Yep." Corey winked at him and faced front again. "So give it to me, Officer."


Hank gave it. He was in it for the cock, too, and at the moment it was all about his cock. Corey's was nice, and he didn't let go of it, but Hank's attention was focused inward, mostly. The stress and stain of spending all fucking day with Charlie, the half-formed memory of jerking off with the man the night before, even if Charlie didn't know, and the promise of a night spent swapping fluids with his relaxation team had Hank pounding into Corey with intent. He didn't notice he was yelling until he was on the very edge of coming, Corey pushing back and riding him hard, back and legs straining with the effort. Hank circled his hips and thrust deep, barely glancing at the bathroom door when it opened. Billy peeked in, looking impressed, and Hank's vision went a little foggy as he started to come. His balls emptied and his cock throbbed, his orgasm rolling through him in long, curling waves that didn't seem to break, just swell up again and again. "Jesus, Hank," Billy said, grabbing at his arm as Hank swayed. "Stay up until poor Corey's done, man." "I'm good," Corey said, his voice tight. "Sure." Billy rolled his eyes and got right in there with them, apparently not caring that his briefs were getting soaked from the shower spray. Hank leaned back, hands on Corey's hips and chest heaving, fighting to see through the steam as Billy went to his knees and sucked Corey's dick. Almost instantly Corey yelled, his fingers tangling in Billy's dark hair. "God!" Corey yelled again, his body going tight all over and holding Hank's erection in a slick, firm grip. "Jesus," Hank mumbled into Corey's neck, looking down his body to watch Billy swallow. "Nice, baby." "Ain't your baby, honeybunch," Corey slurred, looking just as wrung out as an old dishcloth and as happy as a man had ever been. "Shit, don't start fighting about pet names again," Billy said, sitting back against the wall. "Or at least wait for the beer and tequila." Corey laughed softly, turning in a lazy circle in Hank's arms. "Tequila, the man says." "I'll stick with the beer," Hank told him, holding Corey close and licking water from his skin. "And maybe a steak." "Fine dining." Corey let him lick and did some of his own, finally kissing Hank once before stepping back. Just like always. "Hank's hungry," he yelled, getting out of the shower and reaching for a towel.


Hank snorted and stripped the rubber off his dick, rinsing off fast. With this lot, it was best not to

linger in the afterglow too long.

Josh appeared in the doorway, doing up his jeans. "We goin' out?"

"Hell, yes," Hank, Corey and Billy said together.

"Just checking." Josh rolled his eyes and stole Corey's towel from around his waist.

"Where to?" he asked, throwing the towel over Corey's head to Hank.

They all looked at him like he was crazy and Hank replied with the obvious. "The Neon Sky."

*** An hour later, clean and dressed and looking for cold beer and hot steak, the four of them walked into the Neon Sky. The roadhouse was the main reason they all got together where they did, though the chance at a cabin over a hotel room was a draw as well. They could be rowdy, make noise, fuck their brains out and no one cared. At the Neon Sky they could drink, dance and in general just relax without having to worry about seeing anyone they knew. That the bar was close enough to walk to -- and stumble home to their beds from -- was also important. "They moved the booths," Corey said as soon as they'd cleared the door. "Wonder when?"

"Gee, Cor," Josh said with a flashing grin. "Probably sometime in the last six months."

"Bitch," Corey said without heat. He took Josh's hand and pulled the man up to the bar. "Get

seats, you two. We'll bring the pitchers."

Hank and Billy nodded, both of them making a beeline for the last booth, back in the corner by

the dance floor. The lone waitress saw them and followed fast, taking her pad out of her apron pocket. "Hey, honey," Billy said with a smile as he slid onto the bench against the wall. "Not many people in yet."

"It's early," she said, wiping the table. "Got chicken wings on special."

Hank and Billy both shook their heads, grinning.

"Okay," she said, rolling her eyes. "How many and how do you want them?"

"Two rare, one medium well, and one well done. Toss extra fries on it all, absolutely no salads,"

Hank said, his stomach rumbling. He was pretty sure they could hear it, even over the sound of the music.


"You got it," she said, not bothering to write it down. "Back in a bit."

"Thanks, sugar," Billy said with a wink.

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes and winked back. "Maybe if I had the same parts as this one.

Save your efforts, cowboy."

"Ain't a cowboy," Billy said, his eyes going wide.

"It's true," Hank said with a nod. "He's a banker. Get you a real good rate on a house."

"I got a real good rate on a house. Just costs me a smile and a little bit of time on my back once

or twice a week." She laughed and walked away, heading to another table where a couple of truckers were making themselves at home. "I like her," Billy said, craning his neck to see the bar. "Boys better not be drinkin' it all."

"Relax," Hank said, sliding down his side of the table to lean on the wall at the end. "They'll

bring it. It's not like you didn't spend all day drinking cold ones in the cottage."

"Didn't," Billy told him with a smirk. "Spent all day working out my frustration on Josh and

Corey."

"Better day than mine." Hank scowled at the table top, trying to work out if the name carved in

the top said 'Jerr' or 'Jess'.

"Better day than most I've had since the last time we did this," Billy said frankly. He leaned over and bumped Hank's knee with his own under the table. "You should have come up last night, man." "Couldn't and you know that." Hank sighed and sat back. "I'm lucky to get up here tonight. Charlie could have been a prick about it, you know."

"Who the fuck is Charlie?" Josh slid in beside Hank and put a pitcher of beer on the table, along

with two glasses.

"New guy at work." Hank poured for both of them, laughing at the way Billy was salivating over the other pitcher Corey brought. "I got tapped to show him around. He had plans for tonight, too, so we both kind of snuck out." "Thank God," Josh said, one hand sliding over Hank's thigh. "Had to stop Billy from going to get you last night."

Hank drank and tried not to choke. "Did you, now?" he asked, grinning. "How'd you manage to

keep him here?"


Josh beamed and pointed to his lap. "Keeps everyone from leaving until they gotta, man." Hank rolled his eyes. Nothing on earth would get him to admit that it was probably true. Not only that, but as the youngest of the four of them, Josh had a tendency to be the last man standing, which was pretty to look at but damn hard to live up to. "Hank likes him," Corey announced, putting down his suddenly half-empty glass. "Got him going hard on my ass." Hank flushed. "Was all you, Cor," he said. Corey snorted and grinned at him. "Yeah, right. What's he look like?" Hank shrugged and hid behind his beer. "Kinda tall. Looks like a football player. Who went to boot camp." "Nice," Billy purred. "And you got to drive around with him all day. No wonder you didn't even stop to say howdy." "And you say you're not a cowboy." Hank rolled his eyes and hoped for a change of topic. "So," Josh said, his hand sliding higher and cupping Hank's balls. "Is he nice? He better be, keeping you from us for a whole day." Hank put his hand over Josh's, just to keep it where it was, and nodded slowly. "He's nice," he admitted. "Learns fast. Polite. Spent all afternoon trying to find him an apartment and he made sure to be extra polite to every woman we came across." Corey and Billy both snorted and shook their heads, but Josh seemed to finally be distracted. Hank was getting distracted, too, what with the squeeze in his lap and the subtle loosening of his fly as Josh played with the zipper. "None of that, boys," the waitress said, coming up with two plates. "Take it outside or at the very least into the john. Who's getting the two rare?" Corey and Josh raised their hands, and Hank zipped back up, his cheeks hot. It was a good thing they only did this twice a year. The meal went down fast and easy, the amount of beer they were drinking easing the way nicely. Hank kept an eye on how much he had, mindful of the night ahead of him that was likely to be full of Josh, the drive in the morning and the afternoon of work he had to put in. But it didn't stop him from having fun, dancing a few songs with each of them and paying for the beer when it was his turn. By eleven he was back against the wall, on the other side of the room from the booth. He and Billy had taking a turn around the dance floor to some lazy sad song and had wound up leaning


there, making out. He had his hands on Billy's ass, just doing a nice slow grind and thinking it

was almost time to head back to their cabin, when Josh squeezed in between them.

"Your turn for the beer, Billyboy," he said, kissing them both before settling against Hank's hip.

"Might be time to call a halt," Hank said, his hands just as happy to grope Josh as Billy.

"Yeah?" Josh nuzzled against him and Billy took off, scooting over to the table to talk to Corey.

Well, to stick his tongue in Corey's ear.

"Thinking a bed would be a damn fine idea," Hank said, turning a bit to kiss Josh properly.

Josh nodded and opened that mouth wide, letting him in. It really was time, or they'd be heading

to the john after all, and Hank was pretty sure he could live without another fast handjob in his life if there was a proper lay only a short walk up the road. "Missed you," Josh said, pulling away. "All right, we'll go. But you and me, we got dibs on the bed that doesn't have potato chip crumbs all over the sheets."

Hank laughed and nodded, taking Josh's hand. "Deal." They started walking across the dance

floor, dodging a couple who were lost in their own universe that was apparently bigger than the

real one.

"Ready?" Corey said, standing up and tossing a tip on the table.

"Yeah." Hank nodded and knew he was smiling like a fool.

"Jesus," Josh whispered into his ear, arms slipping around Hank's waist from behind. "Look at

that one, Hank. What I would give to scale that mountain."

Hank snickered and looked where Josh was pointing him, hand on Hank's hips turning him about

forty degrees. "You're a slut," Hank said, reaching behind his back to feel up Josh's cock.

"You like it," Josh told him, laughing.

"I do," Hank agreed. "We all do."

"Shut up and look, will you?"

Josh gave him another shove and Hank looked. Then his blood ran both hot and cold as he saw

Charlie, arms wrapped around some guy, looking back at him.


Chapter Four Hank stared, his heart starting to pound wildly in his chest as Charlie stared back, his eyes going wide. It was an interesting sensation, if Hank'd been able to view it clinically. He was grateful for Josh's arm around him, because it was pretty much keeping him up, but he wouldn't be in this mess if that same arm wasn't telegraphing what exactly they were up to. The distance between him and Charlie, only about fifteen feet, narrowed and shrank, though neither of them moved, and he had time to notice that Charlie's back had gone stiff, that the man he was with had noticed something was up. "Hey, what's wrong?" Josh said in Hank's ear.

"Nothing," Hank said, turning his head quickly. "Let's just go, all right?"

"Sure, man." Josh let go long enough to take his hand and pull him toward the door, which

wasn't all that much better than the cozy cuddle they'd had going on.

Hank didn't have much choice but to follow, watching Charlie move onto the dance floor with

the man he was still touching. Charlie was still watching him back, both of them turning their

heads to keep looking. He had no idea what to do, whether he should say something or not. But

then he and Josh hit the door and even nodding goodbye was lost to him.

"Jesus," Hank muttered to himself, finally pulling his hand out of Josh's. "Fucking Jesus Christ,

damn it all to hell."

Three sets of eyes stared at him.

"That guy," Hank said to Josh, "the one you wanted to scale?"

Josh nodded, hurrying to keep up with Hank as he started walking fast toward their cottage.

"What about him?"

"That's my new hire."

There was a very short silence and then all three of them started laughing.

"It's not funny!" Hank insisted, walking faster. "Josh was all over me, for fuck's sake."

"Oh, come on," Josh protested. "It's not like I was going down on you or anything."

Billy's laugh turned into a mostly drunken snicker. "Only because you'd get barred and we'd be

pissed off."


"True," Josh admitted with a grin. "And in case you failed to notice, your new hire was kind of not exactly looking all offended at being in a gay bar. And the guy he's going to be fucking tonight wasn't, either." Hank scowled and walked faster, his lungs yelling at him to slow down or he'd get winded before he hit the steps to their cottage.

Corey caught up with him, grinning. "That's part of the problem, isn't it?" he asked, tilting his

head.

"Drop it, Cor."

"What's this?" Billy demanded, racing after them and pulling ahead. He turned and walked

backwards, facing them. "You got the hots for this guy?"

For a brief, uncharitable moment, Hank hoped Billy would trip. "No," he said firmly. "I'm just

not really thrilled that I ran into him tonight. And I don't want to think about talking to him

tomorrow about it, is all."

"So don't." Josh broke into a jog as they rounded a turn in the road, the row of cottages coming

into view. "I'll give you something to think about instead."

Billy chased after him, laughing. "It's my turn," he called out. "Or did I blink and miss my semiannual blowjob?"

"You wasted it in the shower with Corey," Hank told him.

Billy flipped him off and ran down the lane, Josh giving chase.

"They're going to get us kicked out one day," Corey said, walking beside him.

"Nah." Hank shook his head. "I'm pretty sure they're used to all kinds of stupid shit around here.

It's the nature of the beast."

Corey smirked and nodded at him. "How you been, Hank?"

"Better since I got here," Hank said with a grin.

"That's the spirit. Come on, let us get you all unfreakified before you head home tomorrow.

Might be our last chance."

Hank stopped dead. "What's that mean?"

Corey grinned at him. "Means your new hire is hot as all hell and I don't know if you'll be here in

six months. Give me my last shot, man." Corey kept on walking, looking back at him and laughing.


Hank rolled his eyes and walked to keep up. "You're all insane. Christ. And I already gave it to

you, in the shower. I'll take my turn, though."

"Think I'll have to fight Josh off."

"Josh is not sticking his dick in me. No way, no how. He can suck my cock, though."

Corey laughed, his hands shoved in his jeans pocket and his head tipped back. "You're never

going to let that go, are you?" he asked, referring to the first time Hank and Josh had met.

"He didn't even just assume I'd bottom, Cor," Hank spat, trying not to grin. "He tried to order me

around."

"Yeah, well, you showed him." Corey led the way up the stairs and held the door open for Hank.

"Showed all of us, didn't you?"

"That I did," Hank allowed, backing Corey up against the door and kissing him hard.

"Hey!" Hands fell on them both, tugging and pulling, Josh and Billy already half naked and

clearly ready to go.

Hank rolled his eyes and grinned, going with them to the nearest bed. It was going to be a long

night, and he intended to make the most of it. It was going to have to last him through a long dry spell. *** The morning was difficult, as it usually was after a night with his friends. Hank stayed in bed as long as he could, curled around Corey and listening to Billy snore softly, but the light streaming in told Hank it was about time to hit the road. With a sigh he slipped from the bed and went to take a shower, pretty sure that he didn't want to show up at his own home smelling like spunk. When he was clean and dressed in fresh clothes, he crawled back into bed with Corey long

enough to kiss Corey and whisper that he'd call in a while.

"Make it sooner than three months this time, yeah?" Corey said, his fingers tracing Hank's chin.

"Maybe."

Corey nodded, likely knowing that three months would be sooner than Hank planned. "I can call

you. Tonight. See how things go today with that guy."

Hank winced and shook his head. "Don't," he said softly. "I won't be able to talk about it." Corey said nothing, but both of his eyebrows shot up.


"Not that way," Hank said, almost laughing. "I mean, you want a heart-to-heart, I'm there, Cor. It'll just be hard to manage with me talking in code and all. Charlie's staying at my place for a few days." "Jesus, you sure do pick 'em, don't you?" Corey said, starting to laugh. "Good luck, honeybunch." "Thanks, baby." Hank winked and kissed him softly, then went to nudge Billy. "Are you going to say goodbye?" he asked. "Sleepin'," Billy muttered. "Josh, the dog wants out again." "Your turn, darlin'," Josh mumbled, not even twitching. Hank grinned and shook his head, then headed out, glad for the sunshine and the sweet smell of the air. It would help to clear his head as he drove, and he had a feeling he'd want it plenty clean when he got back to Shady Ridge. He and Charlie had agreed to meet back at his place by noon before putting in another afternoon getting Charlie up to speed on the way the police department worked in the small town. Hank was just as glad they still had to do a proper tour of the station and stuff like that; with lots of people around Charlie might be less inclined to ask questions. Hank knew he would be, himself. Of course, after the afternoon of working and keeping busy, there would be the evening and night to deal with. That would be a bit trickier. Deciding not to think about it until he had to, Hank turned up the volume on his stereo and headed home. If he checked his rearview mirror a little more often than usual, looking for Charlie's truck, well that was just careful driving. He made better time getting home than he had heading out, and when he pulled onto his street, slowing to turn up the drive, he was almost in the right frame of mind to go back to work. Not quite ready to deal with any fallout from the night before, but at least he wasn't about to climb out of his skin. At least, he wasn't until he saw Charlie's truck in the drive, the cap open at the back and the tailgate down. Charlie was there, too, standing beside the truck with two open boxes in front of him, rummaging for something. He was already dressed for work in his makeshift uniform, and Hank wondered just how long he'd been back. Charlie looked up as Hank pulled in the drive and raised his hand in a wave before he bent to close one of the boxes back up again. "Give me about five minutes," Hank said as soon as he was out of his car, bag in hand. "Sure." Charlie didn't even glance up as Hank walked past, his gaze fixed on the box he'd just closed, one huge hand reaching for the other one. "Just putting these back in my truck."


Hank nodded, even though Charlie likely wouldn't see, and almost sprinted into the house, his keys jangling as he unlocked the front door. He probably should have thought to give Charlie the spare, but he hadn't. Maybe he would if it looked like Charlie was going to be staying on for a couple more days. He wasn't sure if he hated that idea or was kind of hoping it would all work out that way. In the house, Hank took his bag through to his room and dumped his dirty laundry in the basket, then took his toothbrush and other toiletries to the bathroom. The condoms and lube he jammed into his nightstand with a growl. A quick change of clothes into his last clean uniform and he was back outside, keys in hand. "Ready?" he asked, pointing to his car. "Yeah," Charlie said with a nod. "Am I driving?" "Nah." Hank opened his door and glanced across the roof. "We're just going in to the station for a bit right now." "Okay." Charlie got in and pushed his seat all the way back, his legs still bent up a bit. Hank pulled out of his drive a bit fast, neither of them entirely done buckling their seatbelts, and headed to work. He kept his gaze dead ahead, aside from the occasional glance in the rearview mirror, and he didn't say a word. He had no idea what to say. The natural question, "How was your night?" was simply unaskable, given the circumstances. So Hank just drove and watched the road, trying to ignore the bulk of the man next to him, which wasn't easy. A couple of times Charlie drew breath and seemed about to say something, but he didn't. Hank's fingers flexed on the steering wheel each time, his knuckles white. He thought maybe Charlie noticed. When he parked behind the station, Hank almost jumped from the car, but as he got his door open, Charlie cleared his throat and Hank looked back. "Yes?" "That guy you were with..." Charlie said, looking pretty much anywhere but directly at Hank. He had his hand on the door handle, and his seatbelt was undone, but it was clear that he wasn't moving until he'd said what he had to. "Josh." Hank figured that was the safest reply; no one could tell a lot of details just from a name. "Josh. Yeah, him." As if Charlie could have meant some other guy. "He's not from Shady Ridge?" Hank shook his head. "He's from Louisville." "Long way." This time Charlie's gaze approached Hank, though his face seemed to be gaining some color.


"Yep." Hank didn't really want to make the conversation difficult; he didn't want to have it at all, and Charlie wasn't helping making it easy to change the subject. "Do you get to see him much?"

Hank sighed. "About twice a year," he said, giving up on the whole idea of switching to another

topic.

Charlie looked at him then, his forehead creasing. "That's a hard way to have a relationship."

"A... oh, Jesus." Hank rolled his eyes and looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone

approaching the car. "It's not a relationship," he said, looking at Charlie and meeting his eyes.

"It's a... convenience."

Charlie's expression cleared, but the blush came on strong. "Ah. I get it. Shit, sorry for prying."

Hank almost laughed. "That's what you get for being all concerned and shit. So, tell me. That guy

you were with...?" Hank waggled his eyebrows as best he could.

Charlie grinned at him and nodded. "Fishing buddy."

"Got it," Hank said, giving in to the laugh. "Good enough. We done?"

"Sure," Charlie said, opening the car door. "Just... I don't want things to be all fucked up. It's

simple, really. I know. You know. We're cool, right?"

Hank breathed, his shoulders relaxing. "We're cool," he agreed. "And we're late. Casado's truck

is here, so let's get some work done. We can have a beer later and figure out if there's anything

more that should be said."

"Sounds good to me," Charlie said, smiling at Hank and unfolding himself from the car. "I put a

case by the backdoor."

Hank laughed and locked the car up. "You really are a good guest, you know."

"I try."

Hank led Charlie around for almost two hours, showing him everything in detail and introducing

him to the people he'd be working with. They went over the building from top to bottom, poked into the filing system, sat at the computers and discussed paperwork and where everything belonged. Hank hadn't seen Casado as he and Charlie wandered through the building, so he finally pulled Charlie away from the computers and headed to the captain's office. Likely, Casado was in there doing up paperwork; if they were really lucky, he'd be doing the duty roster for the next schedule


and it would get posted with more than three days before the end of the current one. Casado's sense of timing wasn't always the best when it came to schedules, though he always knew when someone owed him paperwork. "Cap?" Hank said, tapping at the closed door to Casado's office. Charlie stood beside him, once more at parade rest. It was kind of hot, in Hank's opinion. That was a lot of body to display so neatly. "Come ahead," Casado called.

Hank opened the door and stepped in, then to the side to let Charlie follow. "Thought you might

want to meet him," he said to Casado. Hank was somewhat gratified to see Casado's eyes widen

slightly as he took Charlie in.

"You didn't lie," Casado said to Hank as he stood up to offer Charlie his hand.

"I never lie," Hank deadpanned.

"Of course not." Casado didn't roll his eyes, but Hank figure that was because he was busy sizing

Charlie up. "Welcome to Shady Ridge."

"Thank you, sir." Charlie nodded, and when Casado offered him the visitor's chair, he took it.

"It's a nice town."

"It is," Casado agreed. He looked at Hank and then at the door. "Stick around," he said. "The

paperwork and stuff shouldn't take long. Have you been out to the sheriff yet?"

"Not yet," Hank said, one hand on the doorknob. "This afternoon. Spent yesterday in town and

looking at apartments."

"Did you find anything?" Casado asked, looking at Charlie.

"I think so," Charlie said with a nod. "I'm going back to a couple tomorrow evening."

"Okay." Casado sat back and moved his gaze to Hank. "I'm going to put you two together this

week, then he can join the regular shift rotation on his own. All right?"

"That's fine," Hank said, because it was expected of him. Truthfully, he didn't mind. To Charlie

he said, "I'll be out front when you're done here."

"Sure, Hank," Charlie said. "Thanks."

Hank spent the next half hour sitting out by the main entrance, talking with Nancy and filling her

in on Charlie in the most bland way he could. "Don't know much," he said again and again, pretty sure that by sharing as little as possible he was only making her more curious.


Finally, when Nancy seemed to be drawing her own conclusions and getting the impression that Charlie was an unfriendly lout who said nothing, Hank gave in. "He's a nice guy," he said with a sigh. "Had a couple of hard years in Albany and is looking for quiet. Had a dog, his last patrol partner was a woman, and he's smart enough to have memorized the town layout already. Other than that, I don't know what to tell you. He rinses his dishes after breakfast and likes the occasional beer." Nancy beamed at him. "Now, was that so hard? God, you're really bad at gossiping, Hank. Do you know what shift he's working, yet?" Hank shook his head and tipped his chair back on its back legs. "With me this week, after that, who knows?" "Same as the rest of us," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. "Still. We should make a point of getting a few people together one night this week. Kind of a ‘welcome to Shady Ridge’ thing." She glanced at the calendar on the wall and frowned at it. "I bet Ted and Sue wouldn't mind a few of us showing up on Wednesday night." "Sounds all right to me," Hank said with a shrug. "Set it up and let us know." Nancy snorted and shook her head. "I'm not the social committee. But I'll tell David and make him do it. Just go out to the roadhouse after work on Wednesday and whoever can be there, will be. Easy." "Easy," Hank agreed. And really, it was. That's the way life was in Shady Ridge; someone got an idea and it either happened or it didn't. Everything had a flow, a rhythm, and it was easy. Easy when you were born and raised there. Maybe not so easy when you were a transplant. As much as Hank wanted to just let things go and move along with his life, he felt a little like he owed it to Charlie to sit the man down and talk about what to expect, living in Shady Ridge. Maybe the man was smart enough to already know, going all the way up to the Neon Sky as he'd already done. But maybe not. Hank made himself moderately useful until Charlie was done with Casado, and then they left the station, driving past the two or three places Charlie was thinking about renting. The sun was bright again and the air was dry, so they stopped for ice cream and made their way down past the town line to the sheriff and hung out there for half an hour as Charlie chatted and took in even more information he'd likely never use. Hank had an idea that he'd remember it all, though. It was late afternoon before they headed back to Shady Ridge, and Hank could almost see Charlie tensing up again. He was doing the same almost-talking thing he'd done before, and then backing off before he'd said anything. It was kind of cute, in an annoying sort of way.


"What's on your mind?" Hank asked, heading for home and taking it slow on the hills. The sun was setting, light streaking right into his eyes, and he knew exactly how easy it would be to cross the centerline and wind up kissing the front grill of someone's truck. "Um," Charlie said, his hand rubbing at a slight flaw on his pants. "I was just wondering... Well." Hank squinted into the sun and went around a turn, grateful to lose the glare as a shadow fell over the road. "Spit it out," he said mildly. "Do you want me to stay somewhere else?" Charlie blurted. "I mean, it looks like it'll be at least a week until I can get into an apartment, no matter which one I take, and that's a long time to impose on a body." "Well, now," Hank said slowly. He grinned at Charlie and shook his head. "I figure if you pitch in for groceries, we'll do okay." "Yeah?" "Sure. I have the room, we'll be driving together." Hank shrugged and slowed to turn onto his street. "Might get sick of each other, but I don't mind you staying on for a bit longer." "There is that," Charlie said. He stopped worrying at his pants and seemed to settle a bit. "If you get tired of looking at my face I'm sure I can wander around town often enough to give you a break." "Right, that'll kill at least half an hour," Hank grinned. "Oh, Wednesday night a few of the guys - and Nancy -- are expecting you at the roadhouse for beer and dinner." Charlie smiled. "Cool. That'll be fun." "You do realize that they're planning to liquor you up and then ask all kinds of personal questions, right?" "Well, sure." Charlie's grin grew. "And I'll be doing the same." Hank laughed, suddenly looking forward to watching Charlie spar. *** Monday and Tuesday went exactly as Hank had expected: just like every other day. He and Charlie took one of the patrol cars and drove for a while, stopping at the post office to find that Charlie's uniforms still had not arrived, and then later at one of the apartments so Charlie could take another look. He had two more to view that night, but Hank was pretty sure he didn't really care and would wind up taking the cheapest of the three. Charlie wasn't looking for a home yet, just a place to put his stuff while he figured out where home would be.


They spent both of their lunch hours at Fry's, watching out the window as the town went about its business. Hank pointed out a few faces, told a few stories, and Charlie set to eating his way through the entire menu and charming the hell out of Joleen. The side effect, of course, was that Hank got charmed as well. By Wednesday at noon Charlie had an apartment. He wouldn't be able to move in until the following Sunday at the earliest, but Hank was all right with that. They didn't seem to have trouble finding things to talk about, though they'd hardly gotten personal; they seemed able to talk for most of the evening just about what was on the news. And if Hank made himself get up a little earlier in the mornings so he could spend a few extra minutes in the shower jerking off, that was just the way it was. A couple of times he'd got that weird sense that Charlie was trying to flirt with him, but try as he did, Hank couldn't be sure. Charlie was just a happy, friendly guy. He didn't do anything that Hank was used to from guys who were trying to pick him up; there wasn't a single innuendo or blatant grope at all. Charlie just seemed interested. All the time. In anything and everything. Grocery shopping had been an adventure. They'd torn through the store, tossing things into the cart and reaching for the same products so many times that Hank had to grin. It wasn't until they were putting the food away at home that he realized how well they moved together, side stepping and reaching and dodging without thinking about it, talking the whole time about football. It was comfortable. After they finished their shift on Wednesday they went home and took turns in the shower, not wasting a lot of time. David had told them over the radio that they were to be at the roadhouse no later than six, which was a crock of shit as they didn't finish work until five-thirty, but Charlie seemed set on getting to the food. The man really did take a lot of feeding, Hank thought. They took Hank's car out to the roadhouse and parked close to the door in the almost empty lot. The only other vehicles there were ones Hank knew from work, and it appeared that almost everyone else had followed the six o'clock arrival edict. "We're in trouble," Hank said, leading Charlie in. "That means I get to buy the first round." As it turned out, the first round was on Ted, who thought that having a table full of cops as his only customers was kind of amusing. He and Sue Anne ferried beer to the table along with sandwiches and fries, and it wasn't long before the six or seven of them had settled in to trade stories with Charlie.


Hank ate and laughed and listened as Charlie told them about various calls he'd been on, right from having to rescue a litter of kittens from under a parked car to a particularly harrowing foot chase through an abandoned warehouse. His kitten rescue story was topped by Nancy's own cat rescue -- hers had been mountain cats. Over the almost three hours that they all sat there talking and trying to one up each other, Hank kept an eye on the amount of beer being drunk. He was driving, so he only had a couple, plus they weren't looking at a day off to recover. He wasn't particularly worried about any one of them getting overly loose, it was just something he tended to notice. And he noticed that the more Charlie talked, dodging questions that hit too close to his personal life before steering the conversation back to the job, the more he drank. He was a big man, and Hank was reasonably sure he knew his limits, but when Charlie finished what had to be his six or seventh drink, Hank figured it was time to go. There was no way he'd be able to pour Charlie into the car on his own. It took almost five minutes to get Charlie out of there, everyone still talking as the party broke up and the tab got paid. Charlie was grinning broadly, his cheeks a little pink, and Hank found himself grinning back. It was hard not to, not with the way Charlie was just so damn happy and chatty. "Had a couple too many?" Hank asked with a sidelong look as Charlie sprawled as best he could in the passenger seat. "Nah," Charlie said, one hand waving. "I'm fine. Little happy is all. I think I'll sleep well." "That's good," Hank laughed. He drove them home, amused when Charlie began to fiddle with the radio and then hummed along with whatever he'd find before trying another station. At home, Charlie kept humming, all the way into the house and through to the kitchen, stopping only long enough to drink a huge glass of water while Hank got himself another beer. "Thanks, I'll pass," Charlie said with a wink as he rinsed his glass. "I didn't offer," Hank told him, raising his can in a salute. "And I'm not even going to try to catch up." "Probably best," Charlie agreed. He followed Hank into the living room, and when Hank turned on the TV and flopped onto the couch, Charlie flopped with him. Hank's eyebrows shot up, but as Charlie didn't do or say anything, Hank didn't either, just tried to watch the news and ignore the waves of body heat pouring onto him from Charlie. That lasted all the way through the national news and partway through the local. It became a little harder to ignore when Charlie shifted, leaning closer and turning to look at him, still smiling cheerfully.


"What?" Hank asked, his belly getting tight. It was really a bad time for his prick to suddenly realize that there just might possibly be fun happening that it should be a part of. Because there wasn't. That kind of fun was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. It didn't seem like such a bad idea, though, when Charlie's mouth fit over his, soft and warm and only a little rough with stubble. Hank made a noise that was supposed to be surprise, but when Charlie's tongue slipped into his mouth the noise ended in a needy moan. The beer can in Hank's hand fell to the floor, and Charlie's fingers were suddenly cupping Hank's jaw, keeping him where he was. It was a shock, how warm and gentle Charlie's hand was, especially given its size. It was also a bit of surprise the way Hank just fell into the kiss, let it go on and on like a decadent luxury. His brain had almost entirely switched off, and it wasn't until Charlie's other hand, the one Hank had been completely and utterly unaware of, slipped along Hank's waistband and tugged at his shirt that it turned back on again. "Whoa!" Hank shoved and Charlie went, and then there was a lot of cool air between them and Hank was blinking rapidly, trying to get his body under control and his good sense working again. "Bad idea," he said. "What? Why?" Charlie was blinking right back, his color still high and his lips damp and starting to swell a little. "What's wrong?" "You're half-drunk," Hank explained. He got the beer can off the floor and fled to the kitchen, looking for a rag to wipe up the bit that had spilled. "Not that drunk," Charlie protested. "I know what I'm doing, Hank." "I don't doubt that for a blessed minute," Hank muttered, getting a cloth from under the sink. "Don't matter," he said a little louder. "It's a bad idea anyway, and I think you're a good enough man to back off on my say so." Charlie looked confused and a little hurt. Hank did his best not to meet Charlie’s eye as he mopped up the beer. "All right, Hank," Charlie finally said. "I'm sorry. Thought I read something in you." Hank sighed and finally looked up. Way up, as Charlie was getting to his feet. "Even if you did," Hank said, not actually admitting anything out loud, "it's still a bad idea." Charlie looked at him doubtfully and moved away, to Hank's great relief. Being on his knees with Charlie standing over him had given Hank a view that he knew would linger well into the night.


"Well, I'm still sorry," Charlie said, moving toward the hallway. "Maybe we'll talk about it in the morning." Hank closed his eyes and sighed again. Just his luck to turn down a talker.


Chapter Five Thursday morning it was like nothing had happened. Charlie was up first, in the kitchen making coffee when Hank came out, and they had breakfast just like usual. Charlie was sunny and cheerful and didn't even give him a sidelong look, let alone one that was embarrassed or reproachful or anything else that Hank had expected. By the time they got to the station and started their shift, Hank was beginning to wonder if he'd been the one who drank too much and it had all been a particularly strong hallucination. One that had kept him awake until after midnight, his hand around his cock as he tried to bring himself off silently. Or at the very least, more silently than Charlie had. Hank found that he was the one giving Charlie sly glances as they drove to the center of town and parked the cruiser, planning to do a little foot patrol combined with a meet-and-greet at the shops. If Charlie noticed, he didn't give any indication. They stopped in at the florist, the bakery and the supermarket, walking and talking about nothing in particular. Charlie told Hank he liked the chance to stretch his legs without having to chase some purse snatcher and Hank had to agree with him. It was nice to just stop in and say hi to people, make sure things were all right. It was the days they got called in to deal with shoplifters and vandals he didn't like so much. Nothing like taking in a twelve-year-old who just had to have the latest music to make a nice day turn sour. They stopped in at the post office and found Charlie's uniforms had finally arrived, and they headed back to the station so Charlie could change. Hank offered to swing by the house, but as the station was closer it made sense to go there. Nancy was in the locker room when they got there, sitting on a bench while she changed her shoes. "Hey, guys," she said with a grin. "Uniforms finally get here?" "Yep." Charlie grinned at her and went to his locker, dumping the box on the floor while he got a knife. "About time. I was running out of shirts." "I do have a washing machine," Hank pointed out. "And I'm damn close to needing it," Charlie shot back. He cut the box open and took out shirts and pants, shaking them out. "Wrinkles are going to be my new look," he said, eyeing them critically. "Until tomorrow, anyway." "You and half the force," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. Charlie laughed and shook the shirt again. "Good old cotton polyester." Then he stood there, looking at Nancy expectantly. "What?" she said, beaming at him. "No free show?"


"Last night was the beer, not today," Charlie said with a wink. "Out you go." Nancy laughed back and stood up. "Yeah, I better go before I get myself in trouble," she said as she tossed her other pair of shoes into her locker. "Sometimes it hurts to be a good girl." "Like you'd know," Hank said as she walked out. He was rewarded with a stiff middle finger and another laugh.

"I like her," Charlie said mildly as he unbuttoned his shirt. "She reminds me of Katie."

"Katie?"

"My last partner," Charlie said. He turned around, his back to Hank, and started stripping down,

pausing to check the tags on his new uniform pants. "She was good. For a long time, she was

good. She had the same sense of humor that Nancy does."

"What happened?" Hank asked, watching Charlie undress and knowing that it would be a good

idea to leave. He didn't want to, though. He wanted to watch. Charlie's shirt was off, draped over

the open door of his locker, and all Hank had to look at was the broad expanse of his back.

"Life," Charlie said. He didn't turn around. He did undo his pants. "Her mother was killed in a

car accident," he went on, shoving his pants down.

Hank's mouth went dry.

"So, her kid sister came to live with Katie and her husband. Which should have been okay, after

the initial adjustment," Charlie said, standing there in his briefs, his back still to Hank while he

stepped into the new pants.

Hank stared at Charlie's ass and prayed no one was going to come in.

"But the sister had some issues of her own, most of them centered around being sixteen." Charlie

tugged, his pants skimming over his ass and hips.

With Charlie's ass covered, Hank could breathe again.

"Damn," Charlie said, looking down at his feet. "I know I told them extra long, but this is

ridiculous." The hem of his pants was too long by at least four inches. "They must have been

fitting for giants. Christ."

Off came the pants. Hank leaned on his locker and swallowed hard.

"Hold on, I've got a quick fix," Charlie said as he bent down to rummage through the bag at the

bottom of his locker. "So, anyway, the sister was a problem. Angry, hurting... the works. Then

she got pregnant, and Katie took some time off."


"Uh huh," Hank said, hearing about every third word. Charlie pulled a stapler out and rolled the hem of one leg under. "Remind me to actually sew these later," he said, not even looking at Hank as he began to fix his pants. "When Katie came back she was exhausted. She had to take time off, miss shifts, leave early... had to be a mom to her sister and then the new baby. It wasn't what she wanted, and I hope she gets her life back someday, but it sure didn't make things easy for me, either." Hank made what he hoped was an agreeable noise and debated telling Charlie to at least put a shirt on. But then, he was the one with the problem, a problem that was growing harder by the moment. Charlie went to work on the other leg. "I guess that makes me kind of a jerk," he said, working swiftly. "My partner's life turned upside down and me bitching about how much she was gone. It wasn't just that, though. Never is, right?" "Guess not," Hank said gruffly. He had no idea. "Right about then, things went to shit with AJ. And I looked around, ready to talk to Katie, but she wasn't there, you know? And then I felt like an ass, because she had so much on her plate anyway." Charlie bent -- again -- and stepped into his pants, pulling them up swiftly. "It was just a rough time," he said, suddenly turning around and looking at Hank. Hank flushed and looked away, but it was far, far too late. Charlie, bare-chested and with his pants undone, grinned and walked over to him, leaning in close. "So, I'm pretty sure that last night's 'no' wasn't because you don't like me," he said in a low voice. "And I'm also reasonably sure that tailoring with staples didn't get your cock that hard. So let's go get some lunch and talk a bit." "Put your shirt on," Hank said. "And take two steps back before we get in a shitload of trouble." Smiling, Charlie stepped back and went to finish dressing, humming under his breath. *** Hank let Charlie drive and instead of going to Fry's they wound up at the supermarket, getting stuff from the deli and making up a lunch to eat in the car. "Where to?" Charlie asked as they pulled out. "Doesn't matter," Hank said, digging through the bag to get at the grapes. "Any parking lot." His blush had faded and his erection had vanished, but it was time to make some choices Hank hadn't ever really planned on making. "Do we really and truly need to have a long conversation about this?" he asked. "I just whined, didn't I?"


"A little," Charlie said, laughing at him. "And maybe not so much a conversation as a simple clearing of the air. I'm going to be here for a long time, Hank. I don't want to fuck everything up my first week." "See, that's just it," Hank said, trying not to whine. "It's your first week. Why does everything have to move so fast? Is that a city thing or a Charlie thing?" "Bit of both, maybe," Charlie admitted. "But the thing is, I'm not exactly the kind of guy to wait for six months to get an itch scratched. Nothing against the Neon Sky, but shit, man." "I don't wait six months," Hank growled. "But I sure as hell can manage a few days. You're in heat or something, and life just doesn't work that way here, not for me. Not for... guys like us." Charlie snorted and pulled into the parking lot beside the small building that housed the town library. "Guys like us." "Gay. In case you were wondering, Shady Ridge doesn't have a very active gay scene," Hank said. He uncapped a bottle of soda and put it on the dash, keeping himself busy by getting food out. "Are you in the closet?" Charlie asked, just like he was asking if Hank liked coffee. Hank sighed and pulled out a dinner roll. "Not really. It's more that they all choose to believe I'm celibate and I choose to let them." Charlie tilted his head and unwrapped a sandwich. "That's a hard way to live." "Have you looked around since you drove into town?" Hank asked, wondering if Charlie really wasn't getting it. "This isn't Albany, Charlie. You want to be careful." "I know that," Charlie said, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to head into Miss Kitty's and start hitting on guys. But statistically speaking, there's got to be a couple hundred gay people in this town." Hank laughed. "Over a wide range of ages and two genders, provided you can get them to admit it." "So you're saying there's no one but us?" Charlie looked at him and took a bite out of his sandwich, reaching for a bag of chips. "Nah. There's a handful of people. Most just play it safe, though -- find someone they care about and retreat into the equivalent of marital bliss, keeping their heads down. There's three or four long-term couples around our age and a bit older, three kids at the high school that I know about, a couple of ladies that have a house and a baby. But there's no gay scene, Charlie." "Thus the Neon Sky." Charlie looked thoughtful, nodding to himself.


"Thus the Neon Sky." Charlie ate for a few minutes and Hank started to relax a little. He looked out the window as he drank his soda and waited, knowing that there had to be more said, but feeling better about the conversation in general. It was a lot easier to talk to Charlie when he was fully clothed. "How do you know about the school kids?" Charlie asked curiously. "Catch them messing around under the bleachers?" "Hell, no," Hank said, shaking his head. "They know me. I've lived here all my life. I'm the safe guy. So, every once in a while I get pulled aside and talked to by kids, just trying to figure out who they are." Charlie blinked at him. "Kids come out to you?" "Not often," Hank told him. "But they know they can ask me for advice, that I can listen and understand when they don't know their own minds or bodies yet." "And what do you tell them?" "To be who they are, for the most part." Only once had he actually told a kid to hang on until he graduated and then get the hell out. He'd been a tiny little wisp of a thing, slim and a damn sight prettier than most girls. He'd been a target since the third grade and Hank knew full well that if he ever opened his mouth and came out, it would just get worse for him. He was gentle and quiet and far, far too delicate to withstand the taunts and crap that his peers were capable of. So Hank had told him that being gay was fine, that it was something good about him. And then he'd told him to move to a city, go to art school, and find his place in the world; somewhere that wasn't Shady Ridge. "Huh. Well, that's good, I guess. Good to be trusted." Charlie finished his sandwich and unwrapped another. "Yeah." It was. Hank liked that about living in a small town, the same as he liked knowing most everyone by name, and by sight if he didn't know their name. "It's a nice place, Charlie. Just takes a little getting used to, I guess." Charlie raised an eyebrow at him. "I suppose. But I think I kind of gave you the wrong impression. I'm not --" He gestured with his hand, taking in the car, Hank, and what part of the town they could see. "I didn't mean for you to think that I was just looking to get my rocks off." Hank almost spit his soda into the window. "Okay," he said when he stopped coughing. "I believe you." "Do you?"


"Sure. You want to start dating?" Charlie rolled his eyes and snorted. "Funny." Hank grinned. "Look. I'm just saying it's a bit fast. I live my life a little slower than meeting a guy and getting down to it a few days later." "No fast ones in your past?" Charlie asked, one eyebrow up. "One or two," Hank admitted. "But no one I knew, and no one I worked with. We got a lot of years working together ahead of us, Charlie. We got time to figure out if we want to mess around. I'm not your best choice if you just got an itch to scratch." "It wasn't that. It's not that," Charlie said, looking away. "I like you, Hank. I don't generally use people." "Didn't say you did," Hank told him easily. "And Neon Sky evidence aside, I don't either." "I wondered about that last night," Charlie said, looking at his hands and blushing a little. "Thought maybe you gave me a bit of a run around about Josh. Downplayed him 'cause I was being nosy." Hank snorted a laugh. "No, Josh is -- well, he's a friend. Sort of. It's not anything serious, the way you mean. There's... Jesus." Hank took a deep breath and weighed the options. There wasn't really any reason not to explain things to Charlie, and it wasn't the sort of thing he wanted biting him on the ass down the road. Hank let the breath out and considered Charlie's profile. "Did you happen to notice the guys we were leaving with? Guy that walks like a cowboy and a tall, thin one?" Charlie shook his head a tiny bit. "Not really. I was too busy being a little freaked out." "I hear that," Hank said with a short laugh. "They thought it was funny, me spluttering and babbling like a fool." "Yeah, Tristan thought it was pretty funny when I finally told him who you were." Charlie smiled, apparently amused at the memory. "So, who were they?" Hank shrugged and reminded himself that it wasn't a big deal, that he just wasn't used to sharing much of himself with anyone, and finally said, "Billy, Corey, Josh and me...well, the four of us just grab a weekend when we can, see? Josh and Billy, they live together, have for years. They just like to... branch out, once in a while. And Corey, he's got a hard life at home, needs to get out sometimes and relax. And I live my life as quiet as I can." Hank couldn't quite bring himself to look over at Charlie during the long pause that followed. Charlie cleared his throat and said, "The four of you."


"Yep."

"Like, all together?"

A laugh was startled out of Hank as he realized Charlie sounded kind of impressed. "Yeah. But

it's just... a weekend of drinking and watching movies and playing cards and having sex. Aside from Josh and Billy, it's not a big deal. Corey and I are kind of friendly, but there's nothing there like what you seem to be looking to put on me." "You have something against relationships?" Charlie asked, smiling and digging into his food again.

"Hell, no. Just never found anyone worth the trouble of trying is all," Hank told Charlie honestly.

He hadn't, and he didn't really expect to.

Charlie made an agreeable noise. "It can be rough even when you think you have. Found that

one, I mean."

Hank nodded. "Not Tristan, I take it? The fishing buddy. And the guy with the house. What did

you say? AJ?"

"Yeah, AJ. Tristan's just an ex from a long time ago, nothing worth even talking about there. But

AJ... five and a half years, and it didn't end up being so great."

"Ouch. That's a long time."

Charlie shrugged. "Hardest part was losing the dog, when you get right down to it."

"What was the dog's name?" Hank asked, starting to clean up the mess from their lunch.

"Ranger."

"Right. So, Tristan, AJ and Ranger."

"Josh, Billy and Corey."

"And we never have to talk about any of them again."

"Right." Charlie handed him the sandwich wrappers and wiped his hands off. "So, what you're

telling me is that you're not about to kick me out of your house for kissing you last night."

Hank nodded and tied a knot in the bag full of garbage. "What I'm really telling you is... let's just see how things go when one of us isn't full of beer."


Charlie gave him a grin that would have had Joleen flat on the floor and nodded. "Let's get back to work." *** Hank wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected to happen after that. Maybe another kiss, maybe more obvious flirting. Maybe even he'd just go for it the next time Charlie made a play for him. But it didn't happen. And even more than that, Charlie suddenly started making himself scarce when they weren't stopping speeders or taking complaints. Hank told himself that he didn't mind that the first thing Charlie did after their Thursday shift was go to the movies with Benny and Steve; after all, it was good that he was making friends. The fact that they'd invited Hank to go along as well and he'd turned them down in favor of mowing the lawn was a help. On Friday night Charlie went to the big mall outside of town and stocked up on things for his new apartment. It was furnished, so he didn't need much, but apparently AJ had claimed custody of the cleaning supplies and linens along with the dog. Hank stayed home and vacuumed. Saturday they spent a bit of time together, just having a lazy morning at home before Charlie headed off to the only gym in town to look it over and buy a membership. Hank didn't care much for the gym; he'd rather run outside than on a treadmill, and he wasn't one for weight training. He could certainly see why Charlie was, though. Hell, he admired the results as often as he could without being obvious. He kind of thought Charlie knew that. And he wondered if Charlie had taken 'slow down' to mean 'stop.' Hank thought that if that was the case, he was going to wind up spending a lot of time frustrated, or in the shower. Sunday morning was bright and sunny, just like most in Shady Ridge. Hank was up at seven, just like always, and he had the coffee going for a second pot when Charlie came out around eight. "Morning," Hank said, passing him a mug. "Milk's on the table." "Hey, thanks." Charlie poured milk and sugar in and sat down at the table, reaching for the cereal. "I'll wash the bed sheets in a bit. Do you want them on the line?" "Sure." Hank sat, too, already finished with his breakfast. "What time are you going over to the new place? Need a hand carrying your boxes?" "You don't have to do that," Charlie said. "Shit, you put me up for a week, you've done loads, Hank." Hank shrugged. "Nothing else do to, and we start different schedules tomorrow. I can give you a hand if you want."


Charlie nodded and gave Hank one of his sunny smiles. "That'd be just fine. Thanks. I'll buy the

pizza, after."

"Good deal." Hank smiled back, figuring a hot pizza or two was more than fine payment for

what would only be an hour of moving boxes and probably the same of unpacking most of them.

Hank's time estimate was almost exactly right. The back of Charlie's truck was crammed full of boxes, but aside from the near dozen filled with books, they were mostly light. It took the two of them less than an hour and a half to take them into the apartment, including a break for ice water and a tour of the common yard shared by all the units. The apartment was one half of the ground floor of a house and had only three rooms, but they were nice and big. Even though it was furnished, the rent was extreme in Hank's estimation, but Charlie seemed to think he was getting a deal. After Charlie ordered the pizza, Hank helped him move the boxes to the appropriate rooms and settled in to put the books on the shelves. "You want these in some sort of order?" Hank asked, eyeing the mix of paperback thrillers, reference books and science fiction hard covers. "Nah," Charlie said absently, sorting through another box. "If I can't find something some rainy afternoon I'll just do them again." "That would drive me nuts," Hank said as he started to put the books away.

"It's not a big deal," Charlie laughed. He came over, a pottery bowl in one hand and a file folder

in the other and looked. "Hank?"

"Mm."

"Are you putting them up there alphabetically?"

"By author's last name, and publishing order. Be happy I'm not sorting them by genre."

"Aw. That's the most anal-retentive thing anyone's done for me in ages."

Hank merely flipped Charlie the finger and went back to work, smiling.

The pizza came and they ate in front of the TV, just like suppers at Hank's house. Hank was a

little dismayed to realize that Charlie's TV was bigger than his own, but consoled himself with

the thought that Charlie would have to buy one when he moved into his own house.

"Stop coveting my TV," Charlie said, nudging at Hank's knee with one foot.

"I'm not."

Charlie laughed. "Sure, you're not. It's bigger than yours," he taunted.


"Size doesn't matter," Hank said, eyeing the TV. "Mine has a better DVD player." "Spoken like a man who has to compensate," Charlie told him, grin growing. "Says you. I bet you coast along on just your size," Hank said, moving his gaze to eye up Charlie instead. "Shame, that," he added in an entirely fake tone of regret. "That's entirely false," Charlie said, looking indignant even as he eyed Hank back. "You have no idea what I can do with my size. It takes a certain amount of talent to use it effectively, you know." "Is that so?" It didn't escape Hank's notice that he was moving closer to Charlie, drawn like a magnet. "Uh-huh." Charlie was moving, too, thankfully. "Prove it." It was a challenge, Hank knew, even if it was given in a low, husky voice. "I thought you'd never ask," Charlie said, his voice just as low. The space between them vanished, Charlie reaching and Hank moving. Kissing Charlie was exactly like Hank remembered; warm and slow to start with, then more intense and a little more likely to induce a racing heartbeat. Charlie seemed to really like using his hands, too, with one in Hank's hair and the other much farther south, resting on Hank's hip. Hank moved closer, pushing into the touches, and wondering what the hell was wrong with him, turning Charlie down days ago? This was good. Good enough to go back for more, again and again, until they were both sprawling on the couch, legs and arms braced various places for leverage while they tried to shove their tongues down each other's throats. Charlie pulled away just as Hank started working on getting Charlie's T-shirt up, intent on exploring the skin at the small of his back. At first Hank resisted the way Charlie rose above him, taking himself out of range of Hank's mouth, but when Charlie peeled off the shirt on his own, Hank grinned. "Should we discuss slowing down?" Charlie asked, looming over Hank, bare-chested, his nipples drawn up in tight peaks. "I'm over it," Hank said, reaching up to pull him back. "Thank God." Charlie fell back into another kiss, making pretty noises as Hank's hands wandered over what felt like acres of tight skin. A little shifting, a little shoving, and Hank felt Charlie's cock pushing at him, hard and insistent along Hank's hip.


"There's really nothing about you that's small, is there?" Hank asked, his breath coming more rapidly. He moved to lick and suck at Charlie's neck, appreciative of the way Charlie’s head tilted to allow him access. "Not really," Charlie gasped, starting to push a little harder with his hips. "There. Right there." "Here?" Hank dragged his tongue over the spot just over Charlie's collarbone and sucked a bit, using his teeth. "Yes!" The next gasp was accompanied by a groan, and then Charlie's hands finally started back in on the action, tugging at Hank's clothes. "God." Hank stroked his hands down Charlie's back, fingers digging in along Charlie’s spine until he reached Charlie's hips. Then he held on, pretty sure he wouldn't be able to move Charlie without the man's cooperation, and started grinding up. His own erection was pressed flat, hot and aching, and he had no idea what part of Charlie he was rubbing on, only that it felt damn good. "Gonna ruin our pants," Charlie mumbled, his mouth against Hank's shoulder as he fought with Charlie's shirt. "That would be bad." Hank rocked again, gasping and pretty sure Charlie was right. "We should do something about that." He let go of Charlie's hips and slid his hands under the waistband of Charlie's sweatpants. Charlie moaned and nodded, lifting up again. "Hurry." "Close?" Hank asked, looking down between their bodies. He shoved at Charlie's sweats, one hand sliding around to the front to get at the prize. "Not really," Charlie said, his voice tight. He nodded and moaned again as Hank's fingers curled around his cock. "Yeah, maybe. Jesus." Hank laughed weakly, his attention mostly caught up in the way Charlie felt in his hand; heavy and thick, and like Hank really, really needed to see. He let go, ignored the protest from Charlie, and shoved at Charlie's sweats again, tugging them down Charlie's hips. "Jesus," Hank echoed, staring. "Nice." "And I know what to do with it, too," Charlie said brokenly. "I'm sure you do." Hank reached for him again, hefting the weight of Charlie's cock and starting to stroke slowly, fingers tight around the breadth of it. "Maybe you can show me sometime." "Sure." Charlie gasped once more, the sound almost a cry. He got his knees on either side of Hank's hips and yanked at Hank's fly. "Not right now, though."


That was fine with Hank. He couldn't really lift his hips with Charlie on him, but he tried, wiggling while Charlie freed him, big hands pushing denim out of the way and tugging at his boxer briefs. Charlie's hands jerked when Hank stroked him again, Hank's palm sliding over the wet head of Charlie's cock. "Hold on," Charlie said, almost laughing as he got Hank's dick out. "Wait for me." "I am waiting," Hank said, his eyes closing as he felt Charlie's fingers on him. He jacked Charlie again, the slip and drag of his hand on Charlie's cock almost a distraction from the way his own erection leapt and throbbed as soon as Charlie touched him. "This is going to be quick, isn't it?" Charlie asked, his hand suddenly tighter around Hank. "How embarrassing." "We'll make up for it some other time," Hank grunted. "Oh, fuck." Charlie's hand, warm and big and so damn strong, tugged at him, and Hank's back arched. There was an itch at the small of his back, down deep by the bone, and it just got hotter, twisting there into something huge and burning. Charlie didn't say anything, his hand working in time with Hank's until both of them were panting, straining, moving together and trading biting kisses, their hips slamming together and their hands working between them, getting crushed by the force. "Charlie --" Hank started to say, his body locking up as the fire moved from his spine to his balls, the bottoms of his feet tingling. "Uh-huh. Shit." Charlie's weight tensed and Hank could feel the tremble of his thighs just before warmth started spilling. "Hank." Hank gasped and nodded, his cock pulsing as he started to come as well, smelling Charlie all around him. Sex and sweat and pizza and everything else that was fantastic. "Good," he said, when his body relaxed enough for him to speak. Tingles and aftershocks danced along his skin. "Gets better," Charlie said, his voice slurred slightly. "But that was a damn fine warm up. And if I may say so, there's nothing wrong at all with the size of your... TV." Hank laughed and nodded. "At least it works," he said. "Never had complaints before." "Well, the first won't come from me." Hank smiled and kissed Charlie again, happy enough to just be there. He couldn't think of a better way to spend a Sunday evening.


Chapter Six The week after Charlie moved into his own place, Hank worked a mix of day and evening shifts and Charlie worked almost all nights. They didn't see much of each other, but Hank heard good things from the cops Charlie wound up sharing a patrol car with. Charlie was fitting in, and that was good. On the Saturday, after a Friday evening shift full of breaking up fights in Miss Kitty's parking lot, Hank came on at noon and found that he and Charlie had the same shift again. After a fast hello in the locker room, however, they went their separate ways, Charlie and Benny to go downtown, and Hank to clear up some paperwork from the night before. Hank did his paperwork, gossiped as other officers wandered in and out, and kept an ear on the radio. He was hoping for a quiet shift and he had a nice Saturday night planned for himself, in front of the TV watching movies. Mostly, he just hoped that his scheduled eight P.M. log-out was going to actually stick. Sometimes Saturday afternoon shifts turned into being on until the small hours of Sunday morning. Things took a turn for the messy in the middle of the afternoon when an overtime crew working on a new building accidentally took out a power line downtown and the traffic lights went out. Hank didn't particularly mind directing traffic for a couple of hours, but it was hot and there wasn't a lot of shade in the middle of the street. He did remind himself to be grateful that Shady Ridge was a small town and that the power outage didn't have a bigger impact, even if it was a Saturday afternoon. When the lights were working again, Hank treated himself to ice cream and turned the car's air conditioning way up as he drove around, ostensibly looking for speeders and other criminals. Mostly he was just waiting for the sweat to dry and his shift to be over so he could go home and shower. By suppertime Hank was pretty sure that he was going to make it off his shift without being held over. Hopefully, he'd run into Charlie at the station, too, so he could invite Charlie to watch movies with him. Even if his TV wasn't as big as Charlie's. Hell, maybe they could go watch movies at Charlie's place, though he didn't figure they'd actually pay too much attention to the screen. Smiling to himself and enjoying the warm tingle in his groin, Hank cruised by the high school and took in the crowd watching practice on the main field. Traffic would snarl again when the team was done, but just for a little bit. He turned around in the parking lot just as the radio crackled, reporting a domestic disturbance at an address Hank knew well and sending Charlie's car to respond. "Well, shit," Hank sighed, looking at his watch. If it was the usual thing, it meant that Dwayne LaStart had gotten drunk and hit his wife again. They'd take him in, process him, Ginny would decline to file charges and they'd go back to waiting for the next call. All told, it would take a while and Charlie would be held up for an hour or so after his shift.


Hank drove through town, absently heading toward LaStart's place, and figured that he'd just hang at the station until Charlie and Benny brought Dwayne in. He could still ask Charlie to come around, even if the fun would be delayed. Maybe he'd have time to get something going for a decent late supper, though. Hank listened to the radio chatter with half an ear and wondered if he should just go back and keep an eye on traffic at the school again. But then Charlie's voice cut through, snapping Hank's full attention to the radio. "Car ten, requesting officer assistance. One three five seven Cedar Road. Shots fired, backup requested." Hank grabbed the mic. "Unit seven responding, on my way." He hit the lights and siren and took off, catching other numbers reporting in on the radio and dispatch acknowledging. Three. Sixteen. Twelve. Eight. He knew there would be a scramble at the station, too, everyone reaching for the stash of Kevlar vests. His own was in the trunk of his cruiser. He hoped to hell that Charlie and Benny had theirs on. Hank drove up Cedar faster than was safe, his siren wailing. He could hear more sirens and glanced in his rearview mirror to see someone catching up behind him; a flash of lights as he crested a hill alerted him to cruisers coming down from the mountain. His foot pressed down harder, pulling a little more speed from the engine. Cedar Road was long and had a bit of twist to the north; LaStart's place was damn near right on the city line, just inside their jurisdiction, and the area fell away to rural out that far. The homes were spaced farther apart and most were surrounded by trees. Hank hoped that the woods would provide cover for them, and not for LaStart. Hank wasn't the first to arrive and he wasn't the last. Cruisers blocked off the area around the home and Hank added his to the roadblock, lights still flashing after he killed the siren. When he got out of the car and grabbed his vest from the trunk he saw Pete and Jimmy across the street, getting the other residents in the area to leave. And he could hear yelling from LaStart's. Vest on and weapon drawn, Hank went over to where what seemed to be most of the force was gathering, clustered around Casado's car. "Okay, I want Derrick, Nancy and Kevin in the woods to the left of the house," Casado said, pointing. "Hank, you and Kelly and Dave head right. I want y'all to circle the place, front to back. Keep to cover and keep your heads down, all right?" Hank and the others nodded, ready to move off. "Who fired?" Hank asked.


"Dwayne." Casado rolled his eyes. "Stupid shit is loaded. Ginny is out of there, and he took a pot shot at the cruiser, missed by a mile. Y'all keep your eyes and ears open, follow Benny and Charlie's lead. I don't want anyone getting hurt." They nodded again and moved out, crossing the ditch and slipping into the trees. They didn't particularly take a lot of care to be silent, just kept to cover and moved, covering for the two men by the cruiser in the driveway. Slowly, the team in the woods moved as close as they could, fanning out to get as much coverage as they could. Hank could see LaStart, looking out what had to be a bedroom window, the barrel of a shotgun trained on Charlie's cruiser. He didn't look happy. Charlie and Benny were on opposite sides of the car, the doors swung wide for cover. They both had rifles, as well, and had their vests on. Hank almost crossed himself, though he hadn't been inside a church in years and wasn't even Catholic. "Come on, Dwayne," Benny said into the cruiser's mic, his voice broadcasting across the yard. The cars were all equipped with external sound; it was a hell of a lot easier than a bullhorn. "We're all here now; don't make this go hard, man. Just come on out and we'll talk." Dwayne's response was predictable and likely fueled by a hell of a lot of beer. Hank was just glad that the stream of verbal abuse wasn't accompanied by weapon fire. "Let me try," Charlie said. "Knock yourself out. This could go on for a while, he's bombed. I just hope we don't have to shoot him; his wife is cousins with my son's girlfriend." Hank rolled his eyes, imagining how Charlie would process that little bit of information, and waited to see what Charlie was going to do. He moved a little closer, dodging to the last of the handy trees. Charlie leaned back into the car for a moment and then came back, a pistol in his hand, hidden from Dwayne's view. "Hey, Mr. LaStart?" he yelled, skipping the mic. There was a long pause and Dwayne yelled back, "The fuck? Mister now? Who the hell are you, anyway?" "My name's Charlie Hise, Mr. LaStart," Charlie yelled, all friendly. "I'm new in town, just started a couple weeks ago." Charlie was loud, Hank noted. And Dwayne was confused by this stranger talking to him like there weren't guns all over the place. "Yeah? So?"


"So," Charlie went on, not moving from his position, shielded by the passenger door of the

cruiser. "I don't know you. I don't know your story, Mr. LaStart. Can you fill me in on what

happened today?"

"You tell me! I was just doin' my doin', and then y'all are here and tellin' me shit that just ain't so!

Ain't right."

"We're just doing what we're told, Mr. LaStart," Charlie said with a note of apology in his voice.

"We were told to come out here because there was fighting going on. Can you tell me about

that?"

"Jesus Christ, can't a man talk in his own house no more? All the damn time, people telling me

what to do."

"I hate that," Charlie said agreeably. "Takes the joy out of life."

"Damn right it does. Know what else does?"

"Tell me," Charlie invited, moving just enough to look like he was casually leaning on the door.

It made Hank's chest ache to see him exposing his head and chest like that, but the way Charlie

was standing, hand around that pistol, had a bit of reassurance in it.

"Being fuckin' harped at. Nagged. Told she needs money for this and that and the other. Over

and over and over all the damn time."

"Yeah, that would suck," Charlie said. "What kind of work do you do, Mr. LaStart?"

There was a pause and Hank held his breath, thinking Charlie might have misstepped. Dwayne

hadn't had a proper job in years.

"I do stuff for people," Dwayne finally said. "Mostly haul shit away."

"Jesus," Charlie said, sounding impressed. "That sounds like hard work. Hard on the body."

"Damn right," Dwayne agreed, warming to the topic. "Long days, hard days, not much money.

And she wants a dress to wear to her sister's weddin'. Jesus. A dress. All I want is to sit and have

a nice cold beer after work, you know? And she wants to fuckin' talk about money."

Charlie nodded. "Is that what y'all were fighting about?"

"This time," Dwayne snorted. "See? Just a fight. Nothin' for you boys to worry about."

Charlie nodded again. "Sounds like," he said, his voice calm. "But we had to check it out. I work

hard, too, Mr. LaStart. Gotta do what Cap says, you know? So we came out to talk, find out what

was going on, right?"


Dwayne seemed to actually think about that for a moment, his head tilting by the window. "Well, yeah," he finally admitted. "I guess. But I didn't hit her." "Didn't say you did," Charlie said smoothly. "But I'm glad to hear it, Mr. LaStart. Real glad." Hank blinked as Dwayne visibly preened under the praise. Benny looked over at Charlie with frank admiration and Hank had to agree with him, really. "Thing is, though," Charlie went on, "we got a new problem, now. You kinda... well, overreacted a bit. And even if we would have driven away from you and your wife yelling, I honestly can't just drive away from you firing your weapon out the window at us. I'm sure you see the problem I have here." Dwayne actually nodded before he seemed to catch himself. "So, what're we gonna do, then?" he demanded. "Well," Charlie said, his fingers still holding the pistol in a nice and easy grip. "I have a hope that you'll just shove that rifle of yours out the window to the ground. So we can see that you're not intending to harm any of us, right? And then I'll come into your house and walk you out the door. The rest we can talk about at the station, over a cup of coffee." "And then what? Goin' to arrest me? Put me in jail?" "I don't know," Charlie said, which was a flat-out lie. "It's just the way my part of the job is, right? I work hard, just like you. And while I don't have a pretty wife to nag me, I do have stuff I gotta do. Right now, making sure that you're safe is one of those things. Help me out here, Mr. LaStart. Toss the gun and let me come in, walk you out to my car nice and safe." Hank held his breath. He heard Kelly mumble something that sounded like 'crazy bastard' and was quickly followed by 'buy him a beer'. And Charlie's gun hand started to lift, just an inch or so. "Shit," Dwayne said succinctly, the barrel of his shotgun slipping through the window and aiming at the ground. As the gun tumbled out of the window Hank could almost count the number of times the sun reflected off the metal. For a moment there was utter stillness and then Charlie stood, his gun trained on the house, both arms fully extended. "Clear the house," he barked, and every officer in the area moved in, watching doors and windows, front and back, as Charlie went in after his collar. *** At the station there was a jumble of confusion as the shift changed and everyone who'd been out at LaStart's told the story over and over, bodies milling about in various states of excitement. Adrenaline was spiking in some, wearing off in others, and Hank knew that Shady Ridge would be talking for a couple of days.


Charlie and Benny had walked Dwayne out of the house and into their car, just as quiet as could be; Dwayne seemed to actually like Charlie, which made him far more cooperative than he'd been with anyone else in years. For his part, Charlie was all business, completely focused on taking down details and getting his report ready, talking to Dwayne at one of the desks in the bullpen as Casado stood at the other end of the room, on the phone with someone who was likely a reporter. Hank hovered a bit, pretending to put things away after he'd clocked out, mostly watching Charlie and catching a bit of what Casado was saying. "No, there was no damage to property and there were no injuries. It's a non-story, Diane. There was no hostage situation, and it wasn't even an armed standoff. It was a drunk citizen who initially resisted arrest. My officers handled it well and quickly, and it's over." Hank smiled a bit, thinking 'armed standoff' was actually pretty accurate, if a little sensational. "Of course there will be charges," Casado said, rolling his eyes. "He discharged a weapon inside city limits." Hank left Casado to finish spinning the event for the public and walked over to Charlie's desk with an empty file. Dwayne was still chattering away, mostly about Ginny and her damn dress, and Charlie was typing away at the computer, nodding his head at intervals. "Hey, Hank," Charlie said, looking up at him with his cop face in place. "You heading home?" "Yep," Hank said, meeting his eye and looking for something there to give him a direction. All he saw was tight control, which was probably as much a sign as anything else. "Come on by when you're done. I'll put steak on the grill." "Sounds good. Be about an hour or more." "I'll get 'em ready," Hank said, moving away almost immediately, before his cock could get much of a reaction going to the way Charlie was all calm and in charge of himself. "See you soon," Charlie said, before turning back to Dwayne. "Now, Mr. LaStart. Can you tell me what time you got home today and when you started to enjoy your well-earned cold beer?" Hank walked through the locker room and right out the back door, not even stopping at his locker. He had to get home and he had to get there fast, his skin starting to feel too tight. Hank kept hearing Charlie's voice, smooth and friendly, and seeing Charlie's hand on his gun, ready to use it if he had to. The juxtaposition was enticing, slightly offbeat and weird. It went right to his dick, and that was not something Hank wanted to think about too much.


At home, Hank got the steaks out and shook peppercorns onto them, thinking that was about as fancy as they were going to get. He made sure there was beer in the fridge and that he had things for pancakes in the morning; he had every intention of keeping Charlie as long as he could. That done, he took a fast shower, ignoring his erection as best he could. A solo jerk-off in the shower was a poor second to what was going to happen, and he wasn't going to insult Charlie by getting all relaxed in advance. It wasn't until he was dry and dressed only in sweatpants that it occurred to him that Charlie would find that funny as hell. Or maybe not even notice. Still hard, aching, Hank moved through the house restlessly, watching the clock and replaying the entire thing in his mind. Hank kept getting stuck on Charlie, his voice, his bulk, the way he took the whole thing in and did his job. The way he'd looked as soon as Dwayne's gun hit the ground and he could stand tall, his own weapon aimed at the house, his smooth voice suddenly loud and sharp. Part of Hank figured he really should be ashamed, but most of him was just plain turned on. He was in the kitchen when he heard Charlie's truck pull up; at least, he hoped it was Charlie. His sweats didn't hide much, so he didn't go to the door to find out, just stayed where he was, waiting. "Hank?" Charlie called as the front door opened. "Kitchen." Hank leaned back on the counter, his fingers curling around the edge of the sink behind him, and listened as Charlie came in. He heard boots being taken off, the door being locked, and then Charlie was walking in, going straight for him. Charlie was still in his uniform, completely distorted by the length of his cock pushing at his fly. His face wasn't blank anymore; neutral was nowhere to be found as Charlie advanced, eyes dark and wide. "Hey," Charlie said roughly. "Hey." It wasn't much of a reply, but it was all Hank had time for as Charlie melded to him, hands on Hank's at the sink, hips grinding and mouth consuming. Charlie kissed him hard, letting go of his hands and taking his arms instead, manhandling Hank into a tight turn and slamming him into the wall by the fridge instead. "Want," Charlie growled, attacking Hank's neck. "Yeah," Hank agreed, his breath pushed out of him by the impact, his cock throbbing with how much he wanted, how much he fucking liked this side of Charlie, this alpha all-het-up bullshit that he usually hated. Charlie still had him by the arms, so he couldn't make a grab for anything other than Charlie's shirt sleeves, but he did that, getting off on the resistance, the way Charlie was bigger than him, stronger. The way Charlie didn't hide it. "Want. Come on, do it."


Charlie growled again, letting Hank go, but still kissing, biting at Hank's mouth and shoving his tongue deep as he ripped at his uniform pants, trying to get them open. The sound of the belt buckle was like anticipation made audible, and Hank found himself gasping, moving faster against Charlie. "Hurry," Hank said, his head tipping back and hitting the wall with a thunk. "I am," Charlie snapped, mouthing him again in a parody of a kiss. He moved, shoving at fabric, the back of his hand rubbing on Hank's cock. "Hot for it?" "Fuck, yes," Hank moaned, feeling his prick start to leak. "Want you." "Can I fuck you?" Hank nodded jerkily, his heart racing. That was exactly what he wanted. "Here? In your kitchen, against the wall?" Charlie was almost purring as he started to work at Hank's sweats, tugging at the waistband. Again, Hank nodded. "Need stuff." "Got it." Charlie moved back, not breaking contact, not even as he spun Hank to face the wall. When Hank's hands came up to stop the impact, to keep his face from hitting the wall too hard, Charlie pressed close behind him. "Keep your hands there," he murmured in Hank's ear. "Just like that." Hank nodded, breathless and unsure of what exactly was going on, but far too into it to care. He could hear Charlie doing something and looked back to see Charlie get a rubber and lube out of one pants pocket, then closed his eyes, waiting. Charlie yanked Hank's sweats right off his hips, nudging Hank to spread his legs wider. Hank gritted his teeth to keep himself from moaning. He wasn't used to being quite so needy, so damn willing, and he didn't want to sound like he was desperate. He was pretty sure Charlie knew anyway. "Easy," Charlie whispered, moving against Hank, his hands fumbling. Hank couldn't tell exactly what Charlie was doing, the movements were too indistinct, but he could hear the jangle and clank of Charlie's belt, the sound of the condom wrapper. Hank closed his eyes, palms sweaty against the wall, and listened to himself breathe, rough and sharp. When Charlie breached him with wet, slippery fingers, the moan fought its way past his teeth, but that was okay. That was expected and accepted. Charlie sucked at Hank's neck, his fingers working, the sound of fabric being adjusted loud again, and Hank suddenly realized Charlie was going to fuck him with his uniform still on, just his cock out the open fly, his pants clinging to his hips.


"Jesus," Hank whispered, squeezing his eyes closed more tightly. He told himself that the way he suddenly thrust out his ass wasn't a slut move, but so he could control where Charlie's fingers hit him; that the way his cock was pounding with his pulse was just because he hadn't gotten in laid in... Well. Discarding the whole line of thought, Hank tried to brace himself, tried to find purchase on the too-smooth wall in front of him. "You're ready," Charlie told him, and Hank nodded, taking Charlie's word for it. When Charlie pulled his fingers away, Hank moaned again, hating it. He hated the way he felt strung tight and he hated that he was acting like a horny teen. Hank absolutely loved it when Charlie started working his cock in, though. "That's it," Charlie said softly, his mouth by Hank's ear. "Relax. Let me in, Hank." Hank nodded and took a breath, trying to relax. But Charlie was a big mountain of a man, tall and broad and his cock was no exception, wide and long and the drag on Hank's ass was almost the pleasure-pain he'd known it would be. It wasn't a sharp pain like he'd expected, just long, drawn out pressure, and then suddenly it was intense, overwhelming, as Charlie apparently lost patience and thrust deep. "Fuck!" Hank didn't know which one of them yelled it, but he agreed. His body was zinging, his ass throbbing along with his dick, and he was grateful for the wall. "Come on," Hank said, his voice rough and hoarse. "Do it." Charlie grunted, leaning on him and sliding both hands up Hank's sides, all the way up his arms and back down. Like he was patting Hank down. Searching him. Doing the job. Lights flashed behind Hank's eyes and he made himself breathe, his cock jerking without being touched and thumping into the wall, leaving a damp smear of pre-come. "Hang on," Charlie said, pulling out a bit and starting to fuck him. "That's it. Tight ass, gonna ride me?" Hank didn't say anything, just shoved himself back to meet Charlie's hips, a yell filling the room when shocks ran up his spine. "That's the spot," Charlie said, banging him again.


Hank gave up on anything other than breathing, matching Charlie's thrusts, and trying not to come until Charlie was ready to go. Charlie smelled like work. Sweat. Adrenaline. Sex. And he sounded like it, too, his voice all authority and strong, his cock a pillar in Hank's ass as Charlie pounded into Hank, pulling Hank by the hips. And the whole time, Charlie was panting in Hank's ear, swearing at Hank about how good it felt, how he liked the way Hank felt around him. How he'd been hard for it since he'd taken LaStart into the station and how he'd been wishing they'd been able to just fuck at the station so he'd get it out of his system. "Can't do it at work," Hank gasped, a shudder rolling through him. "I know. But I wanted to. Wanted to just rub off on you, shove my dick in your mouth, suck you off and watch you come on me." Hank threw back his head and came in a torment of wildly reeling senses, his body jerking and his ass gripping Charlie's cock. He could smell his own come, hear it hit the wall with a splash, and then Charlie yelled, too, cock throbbing so hard Hank could feel it, deep inside, as Charlie came with him. Panting, still clinging to the wall, Hank trembled and tried to keep standing. He wasn't about to go all swoony, even if it had been possibly the best fuck of his life. "God damn," Charlie moaned, shaking right along with him. "Jesus." "You saw him, too?" Hank asked, his lips dry and his throat parched. "Just about," Charlie said, laughing weakly. "Damn." He eased out slowly, his fingers making Hank twitch as he grasped the edge of the condom. "Did I hurt you?" "Nah," Hank said, his knees weak, but keeping him up as Charlie moved away to clean up. "Just liquefied my bones a little." "Mine, too. Stay there a minute." Hank snorted as Charlie left the room. He had no intention of staying against the wall, ass and balls out. He tugged his sweats up for the few stumbling steps to the sink and cleaned himself up with a fresh cloth, then went to wipe the floor. And the wall. And the edge of the fridge. "Made a mess," Charlie said with a grin when he came back. "Sure did." Hank grinned back and nodded, ignoring the way his cheeks felt warm. Charlie walked up to him again, once more neat and tidy in his uniform. Hank's sweats had a nice wet spot from the way he'd leaked and more than one smear of come on them. But it didn't matter at all when Charlie kissed him, mouth warm and sweet. "Thanks," he said softly.


"I needed it, too," Hank said, just as softly. "Do you want to talk about earlier?"

"Not really. What I really want is that steak you promised, a beer, and maybe another round of

making out later."

"I think we can manage that," Hank said, smiling broadly. "You can start the grill if you want.

I'm taking a shower." He kissed Charlie again and started to walk out of the kitchen, looking

back to ask, "You going to stay tonight?"

"Sure." Charlie was looking at the steaks critically. "You can take a turn later."

Hank laughed and kept going, all the important questions answered.


Chapter Seven The steak had been good, the beer better. But best of all was ignoring the TV while they made out on the couch, Hank's legs tangled with Charlie's and both of them hard again. It was actually exactly how Hank had wanted to the night to go, before Dwayne LaStart had thrown his temper tantrum. Hank nuzzled Charlie's jaw and shifted his hips just a bit, keeping himself in the moment instead of slipping back to whatever the fuck had been driving him earlier. Charlie nuzzled back, one large hand on the small of Hank's back. "Got a thing for cops?" he asked softly, smiling and nuzzling more. Hank rolled his eyes, not very surprised that Charlie's train of though seemed to be coupled with his own. "I am a cop," he pointed out, blatantly moving his own hand to cup Charlie's cock through the sweatpants Charlie was wearing. Keeping extra clothes in the truck came in handy for unexpected kitchen sex and its aftermath. "I know," Charlie said, still grinning. He lifted his knee a little, inviting Hank's hand to do whatever he pleased. "Still. You kinda got off on that in a pretty big way." Hank buried his head in Charlie's neck. "Wasn't that, I don't think. Was just you. The way you held yourself, the way you were so... controlled. Calm and in charge, and so sure of what you were doing. Never got off on cops before, so clearly it's you." "That works, too," Charlie laughed. "I don't mind being the object of your perversions." "Do we have to actually discuss this?" Hank asked, slipping his hand inside Charlie's sweats. "We can move right on to the perversions." "Oh, nice." Charlie nuzzled him again, licking at his jaw, and added, "I was just noting it. We can do it again, if you want." Hank looked at him. "Which part? The sex or the whole you being all strong cop and me being all melty girl?" Charlie laughed and kissed him. "You are no melty girl. You got a hit of adrenaline, same as me. But we can drop it, if you want." "I want," Hank said, moving his hand slightly so his knuckles dragged over the soft skin of Charlie's belly. "I want kind of a lot." "We've moved onto the sex part, right?" Charlie asked, his breath suddenly short. "I hope?" "We have," Hank said, teasing the very tip of Charlie's cock. "Were you serious earlier?"


Charlie blinked at him, his eyes heavy lidded. "About what? Jesus, Hank, touch me already." Hank smirked and nudged his hand a little bit closer to where Charlie wanted it. "About me taking my turn." "Well, sure," Charlie said, his eyes drifting closed. "Assuming you want to, of course." "Oh, I'm pretty sure that's a definite yes," Hank said, curling his fingers around Charlie's erection. "You know, it might be a thing to move to the bed. For a change of pace." "The pace is already changed," Charlie pointed out, kissing Hank with a lot of tongue. "It's nice." Hank agreed and kissed him back. It was nice. He had nothing against the rushed and frantic sex they'd had, both on Charlie's couch and in his own kitchen, but just touching Charlie was something to be enjoyed. There was so damn much of him to explore, it would be a shame not to take the time, do it right. "Come on," Hank said, stroking Charlie's cock once more before letting it go. "Let's go to bed. I want to spread you out like a banquet." "So romantic," Charlie said, rolling his eyes. But he was grinning and moving, kissing Hank again as they stood up. "You're such a sweet talker." "Would you prefer I said I want to take you in there so I can lick you all over and make you scream my name?" Charlie laughed and turned out the lights as Hank used the remote to turn off the TV. "That's a mighty fine promise you're making." "I like a challenge," Hank said, leading him to the bedroom. "Plus, it'll be fun just to try." "There is that." They stripped off their sweats and Hank pulled the covers back, admiring Charlie's body again. He could spend a lot of time just looking, but it would be a shame to waste the chance to be a lot more tactile than watching. Together they climbed onto the bed, one from each side. It wasn't the tumbling down of two men intent on getting where they were going as fast as they possibly could, Hank noticed, but something much more comfortable; easy and not at all frightening, something he hadn't even realized he'd expected. There was wanting, of course, and anticipation, but the mere act of going to bed was just a blip where he'd expected a loud and sonorous ping. Charlie reached for him, pulling Hank close, and the moment vanished before thought had really formed. Instead, Hank just went with it, went with Charlie, and his hands and mouth moved instinctively, Hank's body intent on sensation and exploration.


Charlie's skin was hot to the touch, flushed and smooth, and as Hank's fingers sought out sensitive spots, tiny bits of flesh that made Charlie moan and his muscles twitch, Hank tasted the bare hint of salt that signaled the start of dampness. Over Charlie's chest to one shoulder, Hank licked a path, pausing to tease at one nipple. Under him, Charlie arched a little, not a lot, and Hank moved on. Hank bit down on the curve of Charlie's neck, nuzzled along his collar bone, and smiled when Charlie's hands at the small of Hank's back clutched him a little tighter. They moved slowly for a long time, trading kisses that were intense in their delicacy, gentle sweeps of their hands along backs, thighs, bellies. Hank couldn't remember the last time he'd taken so long to know a body. He didn't try to figure it out. Legs brushing, Hank could feel when Charlie's hips started to shift, his movements growing a little restless. Urgency held off, but Hank kissed Charlie a little harder, finally allowing his hand, which had been tracing the ridges of tight and defined abdominal muscles, to go a little lower, until he was once more learning the feel of Charlie's cock. Charlie laughed, voice a little husky, smile a curve Hank could feel against his neck. "I like the way you touch me," he whispered, and Hank could feel goosebumps rising up on Charlie's arm, and all up and down Hank's spine. "Good," Hank told him, smiling as well. He used the tip of one finger to sketch the whole length of Charlie's cock. "I like touching you." Charlie's palm coasted down Hank's back until his hand fit around the curve of Hank's butt. "It's mutual." Hank shivered and dropped his hand a little lower to cup Charlie's balls. Their legs slid together, Charlie's parting and Hank's thigh lifting, his hips starting to move in a slow rhythm as Charlie squeezed his ass. Hank rubbed his cock along Charlie's hip, only slightly, not wanting too much friction as he rolled Charlie's balls and stroked the insanely soft skin behind them. The kisses moved on from gentle and long and wet to a little harder, a little deeper, and when Charlie moaned, his hand sliding down to pull Hank's thigh tighter against him, Hank nodded. "Time," Hank said, urging Charlie to lie back, both hands skimming up to Charlie's chest, kneading him. Charlie went slowly, falling back as his mouth parted and his tongue flicked out to dab at his lower lip. "More than," he said, his legs easing apart so Hank could move between them. Hank wasn't sure why he'd expected Charlie to resist being fucked; he didn't like to think that he had stupid, preconceived ideas about what kind of person topped or bottomed. He certainly didn't about himself. But Charlie was just so damn big that it appeared to trip some weird, ultimately foolish instinct that said men like Charlie didn't take it.


It didn't matter right then. Nothing like roles and cultural perceptions mattered at all as Hank reached for the lube and the stash of condoms. He didn't care about that shit at all, not with Charlie in bed, lying back with one hand on Hank's hip, the other curling into a loose fist beside his own cock. All that mattered was making sure his hands weren't shaking as he rolled the rubber on and got his fingers wet. It wasn't that he was nervous, or even in such a state that his hands were jittery from his need; it was just Charlie. It was different, it was slow and sweet, and it was Charlie. So he concentrated, he looked away from Charlie's face, looked away from the beautiful curve of hip and cock, and focused only on process, on being gentle and careful and easing his way as best he knew how. The moment deserved it, the act deserved it, and if Hank was the sort of man to be rough with his partners and go after what he needed, well, he hoped he was the kind of man to give back, as well. He listened to Charlie's indrawn breaths, the soft sounds he made as Hank opened him, and read Charlie's body. There didn't seem to be a need for words, the leg drawing up speaking as loudly as the hands petting him, reaching out and pulling him forward. Charlie could talk with so much of himself that Hank had no trouble hearing, made no mistake as he lined up and started to push in. The room was utterly silent as Hank moved, eyes closing as he concentrated. Charlie's body grasped him, held him with the silky warmth that started as a very real presence around Hank's dick and then moved up his spine, flushing his skin until Hank had to gasp and pull air into his lungs. The sound, almost sharp in the quiet, was met with Charlie's own, and the moment passed, changed once more into something new and just as powerful. "Look at me," Charlie asked softly. It was a reasonable request, an honest one, so Hank opened his eyes. But instead of looking at Charlie's face, or even the broad expanse of his chest, Hank blinked and found himself completely mesmerized by the sight of his own dick sliding into Charlie's ass, the view bracketed by Charlie's legs over Hank's thighs. "Jesus Christ," Hank murmured, staring. "Him again?" Charlie teased, and Hank made himself look up, dragging his gaze from the impossibly fascinating vision of himself pushing in all the way. "I just..." Hank let his voice trail off, knowing he was blushing and hating it. "Feels good," he finished lamely. Charlie grinned and nodded, the hand next to his cock falling away to tangle in the sheet. "Uhhuh," he agreed. "Sure as hell does." Hank kept going until he was buried all the way, then leaned over, way over so Charlie's hips had to lift with him, so he could kiss the center of Charlie's chest. The move was met with a


throaty groan, so he rocked his hips slightly, not even really starting to fuck Charlie, but just shifting a bit. "Hank," Charlie gasped, hands suddenly resting on Hank's shoulders for a moment, then sliding down to his biceps and holding him tightly. "Might be a good idea to move this along." "Yeah?" Hank asked, smiling to himself and not lifting his head. "I was just getting used to being here." He might have had the words to tease, but his body was in complete agreement with Charlie; it was time to move. He made himself wait until Charlie's grip was almost painful, then he shifted a bit, getting leverage and an angle he liked. Charlie's hands relaxed, maybe because he knew Hank was going to give him what they both wanted, maybe because he was too restless to hold onto one thing for long, Hank didn't care which. All that Hank knew was that he could move back, free one arm from Charlie's grip and use it again. Hank's hips rocked, slowly at first, with long, deep thrusts that made him want to grit his teeth as barbs of pleasure so intense they were nearing pain seared his cock and balls, made the small of his back itch and tingle. He kept closing his eyes, all of his attention drawn inside to the way it felt to drive his cock deeper and harder into Charlie. It was far too easy to get lost in the selfishness of it and it was in self-defense, denial that he was that kind of person, that Hank made himself look at Charlie, really look. Charlie's neck was arched back, tendons standing out as he gasped, staring at the ceiling. His chest was slick with sweat, shining with it until his skin seemed to glow, and his hands were clutching at the sheets, fisting them into wrinkled bundles. Rearing back, Hank tugged at Charlie's thighs, urging Charlie to move with him, just an inch or so. He wanted a hand free, needed it; he couldn't keep himself upright at the angle he was using without keeping both hands down. Charlie groaned, the sound long and aching, but he moved, just enough. He panted, swore loudly at the new angle, and looked at Hank with dazed eyes. "That's it," Hank told him, the tingle in his spine turning to needles. "Just like that." Balanced, Hank fucked Charlie harder, rotated his hips in tight circles when he was in, mashed his balls against Charlie's ass. "Shit, shit, shit," Charlie chanted, his back arching along with his neck. "Fuck!" Hank muttered, starting to tremble with effort, with the way his orgasm was starting in his toes. He didn't want to go first, wanted to see Charlie's face when he came, so he reached up to Charlie's chest, so very far away, and pinched a nipple, hard. Charlie swore, yelled Hank's name, so Hank did it again, harder. "Christ, fuck me," Charlie yelled, so Hank did.


Hips snapping, thighs protesting, Hank slammed into Charlie again and again, and just as he knew he was done, couldn't possibly go on, was one twitch away from blowing his load, Hank grabbed Charlie's cock, his thick, strong, huge cock, and jerked him off. Spunk flew in a tight arc, streaking up Charlie's belly and chest, leaving white splashes and wet lines all over him, blending with the sweat. Hank saw one white line on the bottom of Charlie's chin, heard Charlie's cry, and promptly came like a runaway train, his cock throbbing and jerking in Charlie's ass, massaged and grasped by Charlie's orgasm. There was just no saving him after that. He climaxed; he felt every bit of strength he had leak right out along with his come, and Hank let himself go, right down onto Charlie's streaked chest, not caring that he was smearing it into both of them. He didn't say a word, couldn't, but when Charlie's shaking arms looped around him to keep Hank where he was, he smiled. *** Hank decided almost immediately after he woke up next to Charlie that he was not going to worry about what they were doing. He was not going to think it to death. He was not going to analyze it. He was not going to wonder if they were fucking around, if they were dating, if they were just two guys who happened to be having a bit of fun. The whole situation was off limits to his brain and he was leaving his dick in charge. It was possibly not the best decision he'd ever made, he knew, but it was what it was. A choice. A step forward. He also decided, right about the time he was getting out of the shower and smelled pancakes cooking in the kitchen, that he wasn't going to worry about what anyone thought. Hank might not have been the most flamboyant gay man in Shady Ridge, a title which would forever belong to Chester Bellows who once went to the Methodist bake sale in a dress and proceeded to introduce his out-of-town boyfriend around as "Papa Joe", but he'd never denied who he was. He wasn't the sort for cross-dressing or rainbow flags on his front porch, but if people wanted to decide about him and Charlie for themselves, he wasn't going to hide from it. Whatever the fuck it was. He hoped that Charlie's seeming compatible behavior meant that he'd decided that same thing. There were no thoughtful looks, no awkward pauses in any conversation to indicate that Charlie was seeking an opening to a pointed discussion, and nothing done to make Hank feel like his stomach was about to curl into a tight ball. Things were pleasant, all the time. They worked, sometimes together, often not. They didn't make a point of seeing each other every day, though if one of them called up and suggested dinner, or lunch, or a movie, the other agreed without fail. They occasionally talked on the phone if they had worked opposite shifts for more than a few days, just to catch up. And they had a lot of sex.


There wasn't a room left in Hank's house that they hadn't had at least one round of orgasms in, though the kitchen remained a popular spot for fast and dirty got-to-have-you-now fucking. The shower was mostly off limits, due to lack of space. That had been discovered during a particularly perilous attempt at Charlie fucking Hank that almost resulted in a concussion before things were moved to the nearest bed, both of them dripping and heaving before Hank simply draped himself over the foot of the bed and let Charlie go to town on his ass. He really, really liked being fucked by Charlie. It was a few weeks before Hank decided they really could do with some range in their sex life; it wasn't that things were getting stale at all, far from it. His body was very, very happy. But there was an entire list of things they hadn't done, and topping that list was, oddly, blowjobs. Hank had always kind of thought that sucking someone's cock was a prelude to the actual sex, something guys did when they were getting to know each other. A bonus, once things had moved forward. But they'd kind of skipped that step, and Hank had no idea why. He just knew he wanted to do it. Have it done. Both. He'd dreamt about it, twice. Of course, dreaming about it meant that he'd woken up hard and aching and then had jerked off in his bed, but that was okay, too. He wanted the real thing and he'd been thinking about it a lot. Even at work, which wasn't something he was really happy about. Hank sat at the front desk and stared at the dust motes by the big window, blinking slowly as he realized he'd been doing the exact same thing the first time Charlie had walked in the door. It made him smile, and he was glad that he was alone up front so he didn't have to explain the grin to anyone. When the phone at his elbow rang, the non-emergency station line, he picked it up and forced his mind off Charlie and back to work. "Shady Ridge Police Department," he said cheerfully. "Officer Brodnax speaking, how may I help you?" "Uh, hey," a male voice said. "I'm hoping you can connect me with Charlie Hise, or at least pass a message along?" "I can take a message," Hank said, reaching for the notepad and a pen. "Office Hise is out on patrol at the moment, but I can reach him right away if it's urgent." "No, no," the man said quickly. "Not urgent. I just don't have a personal number for him. Can you please tell him to call AJ as soon as he gets a chance? He has my number." Hank's stomach did the rolling thing he'd been dreading and he nodded stiffly, forgetting that he was on the phone. "Sure," he made himself say. "I'll let him know." "Thanks," AJ said, and the line went dead.


Hank looked at the blank pad for a long moment before he wrote, "Charlie, AJ called. Please return call when you can. H." Then he walked to the locker room, slipped the note in Charlie's locker, and went back to staring at dust motes, trying very hard not to think.


Chapter Eight Hank sat on a rock by the edge of a narrow stream and watched a bunch of bees dancing and dipping into the wildflowers beside him. He'd been there, sitting on the unforgiving rock, for almost an hour and he didn't have any clearer idea about why he was there than when he'd sat down. He'd determined pretty much immediately, even before he'd left the station, that he wasn't worried about Charlie leaving or doing anything as extreme as going back to AJ. Hell, Charlie hadn't said anything about the guy at all, and AJ himself had said that he didn't have Charlie's number. The phone call was likely about something small and dumb, like the dog. Not that the dog was small or dumb; though he could have been, Hank supposed, knowing nothing about it, either. With a sigh Hank realized his mind was wandering yet again. Really, he was being stupid and should just get up off his ass and head for home before it got dark. Sitting out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but his own thoughts was just... dumb. Hank reached down to his left and gathered a small handful of stones, then started tossing them into the stream, one by one. The plonk and plip of each one was soothing, rhythmic, and almost musical when the larger ones splashed. It startled the wildlife a bit, though, and he heard a few rustles in the trees and around him as birds took flight, only to return a moment later. He also heard a rustle from downstream, something bigger than a bird, and it was coming up his way. Hank turned to look without getting up, glad he hadn't attempted to really move from his perch when Charlie gave him a wave and strolled along the loose stone bank toward him. Charlie was dressed in jeans and T-shirt, a light windbreaker on over the shirt despite the warmth; Hank had merely let the sturdy cotton of his uniform protect his skin from scrapes and scratches from the trees and underbrush. Charlie also had a small backpack with him and a bottle of water in his hand. "Nice to see you were ready for a hike," Hank said, eyeing the bottle. "But it's really not that far off the road." "Well, I didn't know that, did I?" Charlie said in a reasonable tone. He stood to Hank's left, casting a shadow over Hank's face. The shadow made it easier to peer up at Charlie's face. Thankfully, he didn't seem pissed or even worried. "How'd you know I was here?" Hank asked, tossing the last of his stones into the stream. "Sue Anne." Hank nodded, unsurprised. "She'd know, I guess," he said. "And you went to the roadhouse because...?"


Charlie rolled his eyes before looking into the stream. "Because you weren't at work, my place or your place, of course. I just... went looking, is all. I didn't tell Sue Anne anything, just asked if you'd been in. She knows shit, that woman. How'd she know you were --" Hank could almost hear Charlie swallow the word "upset", which was good. Because he wasn't. He grunted and gathered a few more stones, but didn't toss them into the water, just held them in his hand and felt the eons-old curves, the worn smoothness of them against his palm. "Anyway," Charlie said after an awkward pause. "She said you'd be out here. I kind of thought the walk in would be longer. And a bit more difficult to find you."

"It's a small piece of land," Hank said, tossing one stone. It plonked, sending up a small splash.

"Only a couple of acres. All that's left of it."

Charlie crouched down next to him. "It's pretty."

"It is," Hank agreed. "One of my favorite spots in the whole damn world. I know every tree,

every bend and just about every rock out here. I spent most of my childhood wandering around

this patch, playing."

"Why are you selling it, then?" Charlie asked curiously.

Hank looked at him, almost smiling. "Sue Anne tell you that, too?"

"No, there's a 'for sale' sign nailed to a tree by the lane," Charlie told him, one eyebrow arching.

Hank laughed. "I forgot it was there," he admitted. "It's been there for years."

"Really?" Charlie looked around them slowly. "Why the hell hasn't it sold?"

"Possibly because I'm asking a damn near fortune for this lot. When my grandaddy died it was

pretty easy to sell off the rest of it, but this little patch isn't good for growing anything and it's too rocky for animals. It's just a nice place to walk and sit. No one wants it, and I don't mind leaving it on the market for too high an asking price." "Why don't you just keep it?" Charlie asked curiously.

Hank shrugged. "I have a house I like, so there's no sense in building. I only come out here a

couple of times a year to make sure no one's stolen the trees. I've got no real reason to keep it, no

real desire to sell it."

Charlie nodded and stood back up, though he didn't move away. "I called AJ."

Hank stifled a sigh. "I don't need to know about that," he said, tossing another stone. "I don't

want to. That's not why I'm here."


"Okay," Charlie said, his voice mild. "He called to tell me --" "Charlie --" "-- that he'd found my badge in his things and wondered if I want it." Hank sighed. "That's nice," he said. "But you really didn't have to tell me anything." Charlie nodded. "I know. That's part of why I did want to tell you. But the other reason is to point out something about AJ and how he's different from you. On the one hand, he found something of mine and offered to return it, which is nice. However." He stopped talking and gave Hank a pointed look. Hank raised an eyebrow at him. When Charlie said nothing, just waited, Hank sighed and started thinking. Badge. All right. "When did you split up?" he asked, starting to twig to at least part of what Charlie was trying to say to him. Charlie nodded encouragingly. "About four months before I sold the house, five months before I moved here." Hank tossed another rock and said, "So, he either thought you'd been working for months without a badge, or that you'd been so careless as to actually let him leave with it in his things and just got another one?" "Mm." Charlie nodded once more, his hand twitching slightly in a "come on" motion. "Follow the thought," he said out loud when Hank fell silent. Hank rolled his eyes and followed the thought. "Okay, aside from the sheer thoughtlessness of it, assuming you'd be that careless with your badge, I know you've got a black case in your locker -I saw you put it in there your first day in town and I kind of thought it was your badge from the Albany PD." Charlie grinned. "It is." "So what did AJ find and think was a badge?" After a very short pause, which underlined the blush starting on Charlie's cheeks, Charlie said, "My Medal of Merit." Hank stared up at him. Jesus, the man was tall; he looked a hundred feet high from where Hank was sitting. "Your Medal of Merit," he said. "One, that doesn't look anything like a badge, and he should have known the difference. Two, you were awarded a Medal of Merit? Three, how the hell did you manage to misplace it? And four, you were awarded a Medal of Merit?" "Two and four were the same," Charlie pointed out.


"It's worth stating twice. What did you get it for?" Charlie shrugged and crouched down next to him again. "I was in the right place at a right time, really. Pulled a kid from a car that was sliding down an embankment. His parents were pleased and made it known. It wasn't a huge deal." "Still," Hank said, knowing that it was indeed a big deal. "Good job." Charlie smiled warmly at him. "Thanks." "So how did AJ wind up with it?" "I kept it in its box on the dresser. He just scooped it up with his things when he went, and I didn't notice. I wasn't really in the habit of looking at it all the time. No big deal that he had it. But I'm happy he called to let me know. He's sending it on." "That's good." Hank tossed the last of his stones and figured it was time to move before his ass became part of the rock and his body seized up on him. Groaning, he stood up, accepting Charlie's hand on his arm for balance. As they started walking along the bank, Hank said, "How can a guy live with a cop for five and a half years and not know what a badge looks like? A medal isn't the same thing at all, not to mention the ribbon and the big words on it, like Medal of Merit." Charlie laughed. "Well, that's AJ. A little... unobservant. You would have known the difference." "I'm a cop, of course I'd know." "You could work as a taxi driver and you'd still be able to tell the difference between your lover's badge and something he'd been awarded as an honor. You pay attention, Hank. That's what I'm saying here. You'd know." Hank bit his lip and shrugged. "I guess." He was a little awed that Charlie thought that, would say it, and insulted on Charlie's behalf, which was a weird, uncomfortable feeling. To counter it, he asked, "Still. You were with him a long time, so he must be an okay guy." Charlie snorted. "AJ had issues with the job. He hated the hours, hated that I couldn't just take time off at the drop of a hat, and hated... well, all of it. It wasn't really an issue for a long time, 'cause like you said, he's a good guy. But after a while, he got more vocal about having issues with me being a cop, and I developed issues with him being a jerk, so here we are." "I see," Hank said, laughing. "I guess some things just don't work out. People change and things happen." Charlie nodded and stepped over a fallen tree in their path. "Sometimes. So, what's the deal with you? Why did you hightail it when AJ called?"


"Ah, jeeze." Hank felt his cheeks warm. "I was just thinking. And I feel pretty stupid about it now, honestly." Charlie laughed softly and slowed down. The length of his legs meant that he'd been walking at a saunter anyway, but when he shortened his stride, Hank had to slow down, too. "Not really one for talking about your feelings, are you?" Charlie asked, his tone light. "Not really," Hank said with a sigh. "You seem to be." "Well, not so much feelings," Charlie clarified. "But I do like to know what's going on." Hank couldn't really argue about the reasonableness of that, or the calm, matter-of-fact tone Charlie used. Plus, it wasn't like Hank's thoughts hadn't been all about Charlie, in one form or another. With another resigned sigh Hank stopped walking. "It was just..." He let his voice trail off as he thought about how to express what he'd been thinking, glad that Charlie didn't press him too fast. They stood in the shadows of a few trees for a moment while Hank gathered his thoughts, looking mostly at the ground. Charlie was quiet, patient as he leaned on the nearest tree, and that helped. After a moment Hank decided he was never going to get it exactly right and he had to just trust Charlie to take whatever he said in the spirit it was intended. "When AJ called," Hank started, knowing damn well that his cheeks were getting hotter, which matched the fluttery feeling in his stomach, "I kind of had a... well, a revelation. So I left as soon as my shift was done so I could think about it. Without you being around." "A revelation," Charlie repeated. The fluttery feeling got stronger and Hank nodded. "Nothing as grand as the answer to life, but yeah. I mean, I saw things in a slightly different light. I wasn't freaked out that your ex called, and I wasn't jealous. And even if I had been jealous, there wasn't any cause to be, right? It's not like -- I didn't think it was like -- you and me have an understanding." Charlie looked at him, his face neutral, but Hank was relieved to see it wasn't his cop face. That would have smarted. "True," Charlie said slowly. "You and I don't have an understanding. So what was this new perspective?" Hank resisted the urge to take a deep breath, thinking that would be far too dramatic. He didn't like drama, as a general rule, and had made a point to avoid it most of his life. But even without taking the breath everything in him seemed to still, the flutters giving way to the inevitable. Steeled, Hank said, "I want there to be one. I didn't know I did, but I do. I needed some time to turn the idea over, so I came here. I'm not used to -- I mean, it kind of snuck up on me. And I didn't want to want it, you see. Because I don't know what you want, and I was happy just going along as we are. But I think... Yeah. That's where I stand. And I really, really want to stop


talking, but now it's out there and I can't take it back, and if you don't want an understanding then I've just messed up something that could have been really good, and --" The flutters-turned-ball-of-lead melted and vanished as Charlie moved, stepping quickly and lightly to Hank, pushing him back against the wide trunk of a tree. Hank heard the snap of a twig under Charlie's boot, and then Charlie was kissing him hard, tongue pushing in and taking over. Hank went with it, not about to turn down both the chance at stopping his stream of increasingly frantic babble and the feeling of Charlie's mouth on his, Charlie's body holding him up against the tree. It was a big tree, a strong tree, not even swaying as they both leaned against it. A tree with rough and split bark that Hank didn't even feel, not even on his neck or scalp as Charlie cradled his head in big hands, protecting him and holding him in place as they kissed, the first hard and forceful crush of their mouths easing off to something far gentler, a lingering taste and exploration as Hank tried to keep his feet under him and his hands from clinging to Charlie's arms like he was scared to let go. Finally Charlie pulled back, just a tiny bit, not even enough to completely break the kiss. When he spoke, his voice was low, the words murmured against Hank's mouth. "Understand?" Hank nodded and kissed him again. "Got it," he whispered back. "Good." Charlie smiled, his lips curving and making the kiss playful. "So, aside from revelations, new perspectives and walks in the woods, how was your day?" Hank laughed weakly, chasing Charlie's mouth with his own, and tried to think through his growing awareness of Charlie's growing interest. "Oh, you know," he said, nuzzling at Charlie's jaw. "A couple of routine calls. Bit of driving. Lots of paperwork. Oh, and I thought a lot about blowjobs." He grinned as Charlie's hand tightened in his hair, the big body pressed against him going completely still for a moment. Well, most of it. Parts of Charlie definitely were not still. "How was your day?" Hank asked. "About to get a lot better," Charlie said hoarsely. He kissed Hank again, back to the rough and possessive approach he'd started with, though only one hand protected Hank's head from the tree, the other abruptly wedged between them and struggling to get Hank's pants undone. Hank's breath whooshed out of him and he tried to help, tried to hurry them both along, rapidly becoming desperate. He wanted Charlie's hand on him, Charlie's fingers, Charlie’s mouth, oh, God, Charlie’s mouth. "Have I told you yet that you're brilliant?" Charlie asked, wrenching Hank's fly open and shoving his hand in, long fingers curling and lifting and stroking. "I really, really like the way you think." "Yeah, I'm a genius," Hank panted, grateful for the tree. "Oh, God."


"Don't fall," Charlie said. Then he bit at Hank's jaw, followed that with a sucking kiss on Hank's neck, and went down to his knees. Hank had no intention of allowing himself to fall. He would remain upright and leaning on that damn, blessed tree through an earthquake if that's what it took; no way was he going to miss a moment. Hank looked down at Charlie, mesmerized by the tiny streaks of sunlight through the trees that fell onto Charlie's hair and lit up the curve of his cheekbone. Charlie had Hank's dick out of his pants and wasn't wasting time with niceties. No "hi there, good to meet you" nuzzles or even licks, no friendly overtures at all. Of course, that could have been because Charlie and Hank's cock were already intimately acquainted, but it hardly mattered. Hank watched, his legs braced and his feet planted, and Charlie took only a fraction of a second to wet his lips. Then it was on, without fanfare or hesitation; Charlie's hand flexed, Hank moaned, and Charlie went down on him with flattering eagerness. "Oh, God," Hank said again, his hands landing on Charlie's shoulders and his spine curling. Charlie sucked like it was a full-body-contact sport and not just merely one mouth and one cock. He used his lips and tongue and a tiny scrape of teeth to bring Hank right to whimpering within moments, one hand tight on Hank's hip and the other tugging Hank's pants down enough so he could cup and fondle Hank's balls. All Hank could do was hold on, hope he wouldn't embarrass himself, and make careful note that as soon as possible they were doing this again. On a bed, or at the very least a couch. Somewhere where he could bend his knees without fear of falling, a place where he could lie back and spread his legs and where the fact that he was shaking, trembling with every sucking pull on his dick, every wet and warm lick, wouldn't matter because he wouldn't have to stand. Charlie looked up at him, eyes wide and dilated, and Hank shook again, the bark of the tree scraping on the small of his back. It was the there-then-not rasp of the bark that made Hank realize that he was thrusting, his cock was sliding in and out of Charlie's mouth, wet with spit and ruddy with his own need. He was moving, Charlie moving, too, and watching him, and then the hand on Hank's hip tugged, urged him on, and Hank had to swallow a graceless grunt as he fucked Charlie's mouth, watched himself do it, stared at Charlie's eyes until he had to blink, eyes watering. Hank heard himself pant, heard Charlie moan, and then he was over the edge, falling and shooting and shaking apart as he came, calling Charlie's name out to the trees. Hank's head was still buzzing, whole body tingling in random, intriguing ways when Charlie got back to his feet, pushing Hank up against the tree again. "Jesus," Charlie whispered into Hank's neck, his body vibrating and his hips rocking hard as he rubbed off shamelessly. "You shoulda said something." Hank laughed, hands on Charlie's ass, squeezing hard. "Didn't occur to me until today. Can you hold off for four seconds? Let go of me enough to --"


"Nope," Charlie grunted. He went stiff, his back rigid and his ass like iron under Hank's palms. "Damn." Charlie gasped, and Hank could feel him come, the thick line of his cock throbbing in rhythmic pulses against Hank's hip. "Nice one," Hank praised, grinning widely. "Next time, we should do it naked." "Mmmhmm," Charlie hummed, slumping against him and crushing Hank into the tree. "Soon as

I can walk. Wanna come to my place and watch TV?"

"Nope," Hank said, nuzzling his hair and finding a bit of skin by Charlie's ear to kiss. "I want to

go to your place, shower, eat and go to bed."

"That's what I said." Charlie lifted his head and kissed Hank once more before pushing off from

the tree and standing on shaky legs. "And here I thought we had an understanding."

"We do," Hank said, putting his dick away and zipping up. "I was just being super clear, is all."

"Ah." They started walking and Hank was somewhat startled to find they were holding hands. "I

like clear. I like you."

Hank grinned. "I like you, too, Charlie."


Chapter Nine "You don't take me out anymore." Hank lowered his section of the morning paper to look across the table where Charlie was hiding behind the Saturday colored comics, apparently studying them diligently. "That's not true," Hank said. "I took you to the grocery store just last night." "Yes, you did," Charlie said lightly. "And I thanked you. Twice." The paper shifted as Charlie turned a page, not lowering the supplement to show his face. "True." Hank grinned and shifted on the chair, his ass reminding him pleasantly about the enthusiasm of Charlie's thanks. "But, you see," Charlie continued, rustling the paper, "Dagwood takes Blondie dancing. That's nice." Hank folded up the sports page and reached for his coffee. "You want me to take you dancing." "Yep." Charlie finally lowered the paper enough to peer over the top of it. His eyes were crinkled at the corners like he was grinning, though Hank couldn't see his mouth. "I do." Hank thought about that as he got up and took his coffee mug to the counter for a refill. They were at Charlie's, which wasn't unusual, and Charlie's coffee maker didn't have a removable carafe. Thus, getting fresh coffee meant moving and fiddling with the maker, getting angles right. Which meant Hank could think without looking like he was thinking. "Want more coffee?" he asked mildly, pushing his mug against the dispenser mechanism. "Yes, please," Charlie said, just as placidly. Hank returned his mug to the table and went back to the counter with Charlie's. Dancing. Okay, there was nothing wrong with dancing. Hank liked to dance. It was now safe to assume that Charlie liked to dance. The trouble lay in where to dance, as Charlie's conversational opener had suggested they not just stick to either the apartment or Hank's house. There were choices to consider. Not many, though. The roadhouse didn't have dancing, not really, and Miss Kitty's just wasn't ready for the sight of two male cops hitting its dance floor. Hell, the town wasn't ready for it. Hank wasn't ready for it. It had been a couple of months since Hank and Charlie had reached their understanding, and things were going along just fine. They were discreet, but they weren't hiding anything, which was just the way Hank liked to live his life. Charlie seemed okay with it, overall. He had a


tendency to shake his head sometimes, and he rolled his eyes a lot when people were clearly being obtuse, but he seemed happy enough. A few of the people they knew had figured it out pretty fast and the rest were getting there. Hank and Charlie weren't too worried about trouble with work; the force was too small to get into a twist about relationships among its members, though there might be other issues with them being gay. They just kept their heads down and their hands to themselves when they were working or out in public. However, it didn't make going dancing very easy. Hank took Charlie's mug to the table and sat down again. "Is it the dancing," he asked, "or the going out in public?" Charlie, thankfully, didn't pretend not to understand where Hank was coming from. "Both, actually," he said, reaching for his coffee. "But ideally the dancing will be in public as opposed to the living room." Hank nodded. "Okay," he said, picking up the paper again. That really only left one option. "I work until four this afternoon, then I'm off until Monday morning." "Yep." Charlie sipped his coffee, eyes twinkling at Hank from across the table. "I go in tomorrow night at eight." "Well, then," Hank said with a grin. "We've got time for a little road trip upstate. Want to throw some stuff in a bag and meet me after work?" Charlie beamed at him. "Your place at four-thirty. Call me if you get hung up, all right?" "I will," Hank promised. He stood up and rounded the table to kiss Charlie. "See you after work." *** Hank was both pleased and unsurprised when Charlie showed up at the station, his truck gassed up and ready to go. "Eager?" Hank asked with a grin, getting a change of clothes out of his locker. "The downside is that I'm not going to be dressed all pretty, you realize. All I've got here is old jeans and a T-shirt." "I put fancy stuff in your bag," Charlie said, very obviously not watching as Hank got dressed. Hank smiled, feeling warm as he realized he didn't mind at all that Charlie had gone to his house and packed for him. It didn't even occur to Hank that Charlie might have picked the wrong clothes; he had absolutely no doubt that everything would be just right and nothing would have been forgotten. The drive was pleasant, the thrum of the car engine matching the low level tingle in Hank's belly. They spent the first half hour talking about work and Hank's shift, and then settled back to enjoy


the trip and the scenery. Hank knew the drive well, but Charlie was relatively fresh to the area and still seemed a bit awed by the raw beauty of the mountains and trees. They were halfway there when Charlie turned down the radio and looked at Hank, one hand resting easy on the steering wheel, the other curling loosely around Hank's own. "What are the chances of us running into your friends?" It took Hank a moment to figure out what Charlie meant, and then he blinked rapidly. "I hadn't thought about that," he said slowly. "I don't think -- I'm pretty sure it won't happen." "You don't sound really convinced," Charlie said, smiling at him. Hank shrugged. "I honestly don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what they do, how often any of them head to the Neon Sky. I mean, Josh and Billy see Corey once in a while without me, but if they go out on their own more often I don't know about it. It's possible, I guess, but I kind of doubt it." "And Corey just doesn't?" Charlie sounded curious, his gaze flicking between the road and Hank. "No." Hank thought about that for a moment. "Corey's a special case, really. He's got a partner, a guy named Hugh. They've been together for a long time, about... God, must be twelve years now. They met at college, on the swim team. Well, Corey was on the swim team, Hugh was a diver. And about four years ago Hugh had an accident, really bad. Broke his neck and now he's in a wheelchair, paraplegic." Charlie winced and Hank nodded. "Yeah. They had a really rough time for a couple of years. Anyway, Corey loves him, and they're together. But." Charlie nodded. "Does Hugh know? About you and the others, I mean." "Hell, yes. It was all discussed, everything was laid out. It was kind of Hugh's idea, actually. There's not really rules, but it's understood that while there should be a certain level of friendship and fondness, there's a line that won't be crossed. It works for them, for all of us. I like Hugh," he added. "I like to think that he likes me, too. But the point is, Corey doesn't just go out and pick up. He's got Billy and Josh, and that's the way it is." "And you." Hank looked at Charlie and smiled. "Not anymore." Charlie looked at the road and smiled. "Okay," he said with a quick nod. "Not anymore." Hank reached over and turned the radio back up a bit. "So if we do run into them," he said with a grin, "I'll introduce you, tell them hands off, and take you dancing."


Charlie laughed and nodded. "Perfect," he said as he took Hank's hand. "Let's just get there, though. Before I pull over to the side of the road and strip you naked in public." "Getting there first would be a good idea," Hank agreed, grinning so widely he thought his face would start to hurt. Damn, he felt good. *** They were close enough to the Neon Sky to see it from their cabin. Number four was just like all the others, aside from the art on the walls, but it hardly mattered. Hank didn't notice the art, didn't notice much of anything as they unlocked the door and went in. He didn't really have time. Charlie dropped his bag just inside the door and reached for Hank, grabbing at one of his belt loops to pull him close. "Finally," Charlie said, reaching back with his free hand to push the door closed. "Stupid long drive." "It's only a couple of hours and you managed it in just over an hour and a half," Hank pointed out, looking up at Charlie's eyes. "You really should be more careful about speeding, you know." Charlie snorted and started backing Hank up toward the bed. "Drop the luggage, Hank," he said, his voice low and his eyes dilating. "Now." Hank dropped his bag, backing up as quickly as he could without tripping or getting his legs tangled up in Charlie's. "Are we going to go dancing?" he asked, making his eyes go wide. "Or maybe get some supper? I'm awfully hungry." "I've got something you can eat," Charlie told him, giving him a gentle shove. Hank tumbled back on the bed, grinning. "Did you really just say that?" He reached up, grabbed Charlie's hand and pulled hard. Charlie, the big lug, didn't budge an inch. "I did," he said, leering down at Hank. He shook off Hank's hand and undid his jeans, shoving them right off and only taking a moment to get rid of his shoes, too. "And I'll give you one guess what I meant." "I'm a smart guy," Hank informed him. "I'm a cop; I figure shit out pretty fast." Charlie laughed and peeled his shirt off, suddenly -- remarkably -- naked. "That's what I like about you." He climbed onto the bed, straddling Hank's hips, and sat back a bit. "You're still dressed." "Don't matter," Hank said. It didn't, not one bit. He reached for Charlie's hips, urging him up. "Come on. Gimme."


Charlie nodded and moved, crawled right up his body until Hank's hand was curled around Charlie's cock, guiding him with a gentle tug. "Don't let me crush you," Charlie whispered. "You dying on me would really suck." "You said suck." Hank felt like a kid, like he had when he'd been a kid, all laughing and having fun and making dumb jokes in the middle of sex. "I'll say it again," Charlie promised, his knees on either side of Hank's head and one hand wrapping around Hank's, holding Hank's fingers tight against his cock. "Suck me." Hank shuddered, his feet lifting off the floor to the edge of the bed, his knees falling apart so his erection wouldn't push quite so painfully against his zipper. "Since you asked so nice," he murmured, opening his mouth wide. Charlie's cock slid in, both of their hands rubbing and pulling at the shaft when Hank took his time licking at the wide head. Hank loved sucking Charlie's cock, loved the smoothness of his skin, the taste of him. Hank wished he could take the whole damn thing into his mouth, but that usually took a bit of work, a little time to get used to the size. So he used his hands, one jacking the long, wide length of Charlie, fingers tangling with Charlie's, and used the other hand on Charlie's balls, playing. "Yeah," Charlie whispered. "God, yeah. Like that." Hank licked and looked up at Charlie, braced way above him and bending so he could see. Hank knew damn well what it looked like, Charlie's prick pushing little by little into his mouth; he'd spent a long time and more than one night imagining the whole process from every angle. Working opposite shifts was crap, was hard and sometimes frustrating, but he and Charlie made up for it when they could, and Hank knew that they both had a fairly large store of memories to jerk off with. Hank knew what he knew and could make up the rest; did, pretty often. But this wasn't made up, not one bit. This was Charlie fucking into him by small degrees, leaking into Hank's mouth and panting while he watched. This was Hank, lying on a motel bed with a raging erection and mouth stretched wide, feasting on a gift. Cabin four had awesome acoustics. That was different. Hank watched Charlie's face, saw his eyes close between one moan and the next, and caught the way Charlie's jaw got tight. Their hands were in the way, Charlie's fumbling instead of stroking, and Hank made them both let go. With one hand on Charlie's ass, the other fingering the skin behind Charlie’s balls, he sucked and pushed and pulled and took Charlie in as much as he could, almost all the way. "God," Charlie groaned, the sound rough and ragged, his jaw clamping tight. "Hank." Hank swallowed, humping air, desperate for it.


With a long shudder Charlie gasped and started to come, his legs trembling and his eyes squeezed tight, neck corded. Hank swallowed, drank and sucked and licked, his balls aching and throbbing every time Charlie's dick pulsed. Frantic, Hank turned his head, needing to breathe, to gasp and swear, and with one hand jammed down into his pants, Hank came with his blood thundering in his ears. "Shit," Charlie panted, falling to the bed beside Hank and wrapping Hank up tight in his arms. "Nice."

Hank nodded and burrowed into Charlie, trying to get his breath. "Ruined my pants," he pointed

out, careful not to wipe his hand on the sheets; there wouldn't be fresh ones.

"I packed you others." Charlie kissed him softly. "Nap?"

"Hell, no," Hank grinned. "Showers. Dancing. Food. I'm a growing boy."

Charlie felt him up, pushing damp fabric into his groin. "Not growing anymore."

"Feed me and I will."

Charlie laughed and kissed his nose. "Steak it is."

*** They walked down to the Neon Sky holding hands and settled at the bar to eat instead of taking a booth. The place didn't have many people in yet, but Hank knew it would fill up later on. He didn't really care; as long as there was beer and a bit of wall to lean against between dances, he was good. They ordered their steaks and each had a beer in front of them while they waited for

the food, half-watching the news on the TV above the bartender's head.

"Wish they'd just get to the sports," Charlie said, drinking from his beer bottle.

"This is important stuff," Hank protested, waving his hand at the screen. "I mean, if we didn't

know about... whatever the hell they're talking about, where would we be?"

Charlie grinned at him and laughed softly. "You're funny."

Hank just grinned back and drank his beer, feeling fine.

The bartender slid a bottle of beer down the bar to a guy at the end and then put another one in

front of both Charlie and Hank. "Steak'll be out in about three minutes," he said with smile.

"Thanks, man," Charlie said, lifting his bottle in a salute.


"Charlie?" The guy at the end of the bar had his beer bottle halfway to his mouth, his arm apparently frozen. "Well, shit, man." He grinned broadly and walked around the stools in between them, going right over to Charlie. "You should've called me!" Hank sipped his beer and watched Charlie almost choke on his. The man looked vaguely familiar; a little younger than them, maybe Josh's age, with light brown hair and stunningly blue eyes. "Tristan," Charlie finally managed when he cleared the beer from his lungs. "Hey." Hank grinned and looked up at the TV. Somehow, they hadn't gotten around to talking about what would happen if Charlie's past showed up. "Seriously!" Tristan babbled happily. "If I'd known you were coming up we could have planned something!" "Uh." Hank watched Charlie blink, his own grin growing. He took pity and stopped watching the TV, turning his whole body to face Tristan. Charlie pointed at Hank. "This is Hank. We came up together, kind of a last-minute thing." Tristan nodded and offered his hand, still beaming. "Hey, I'm Tristan." He looked back at Charlie and said, "Still, you should have called! Where are you staying tonight? Maybe we can work something out." Hank grinned a little wider and drank his beer. Charlie's mouth twitched and his eyes widened a little. "Uh, we're up the road. Hank's my partner." "Oh, are you a cop, too?" Damn, but Tristan had a lot of teeth. Charlie cleared his throat before Hank could say anything. "Partner, Tris." Tristan nodded again and then peered at Charlie, clearly thinking hard. Charlie rolled his eyes. "For God's sake," Hank said. It was plain that Tristan just didn't get it, and also plain that Charlie knew it and had no idea how to make the point without being rude. Hank had no problem with rude. The beer bottle in his hand hit the bar with a thunk and Hank reached out with the hand closest to Charlie. He got Charlie by the back of the neck and pulled, kissing him full on the mouth with a lot of tongue. Charlie, thank God, went with it and kissed him back with just as much passion as Hank gave, if not a bit more.


"Oh," Tristan said, brightly. "Oh! Right! Partner. Got it. See you, Charlie!"

By the time Hank let Charlie go the steaks were on the bar and Tristan was long gone.

"That was Tristan," Charlie said, licking his lower lip and looking a little dazed.

Hank laughed and grabbed a French fry. "He seems...."

"A little dim," Charlie said, grinning. "Sweet guy, but."

"How long did you date him?" Hank asked, still laughing.

"About six months." Charlie blushed a little. "I kept waiting for him to get... smarter."

Hank shook his head sadly. "What is it with you and guys who don't get it?'

"Nothing," Charlie said, digging into his meal. "I keep breaking up with them. Over that stage."

Hank smiled at him and nodded. "Good enough."

"Although," Charlie said with wink, "Tris was fantastic in bed. That helped."

Hank snorted and asked the obvious because it was expected. "Better than me?"

Charlie grinned and drank his beer.

"Bastard," Hank told him, whacking him lightly on the arm. "We'll see."

"I certainly hope so."

*** The bar filled up and Hank gave up his barstool in favor of standing in front of Charlie, leaning back against that chest with Charlie's arms looped around him. And when the music got turned up and the lights turned down, they danced. Fast songs, slow songs, whatever was playing, he and Charlie moved together, ignoring everyone but each other and pausing only for beer and water. Hank discovered that Charlie really liked the slow songs, that the way Charlie would kiss him every time Tristan even glanced at them was kind of adorable, and that he liked people looking at them. Of course, they were probably only looking because Charlie's mere presence pretty much demanded attention, but after living most of his life under the radar, Hank didn't expect to actually enjoy people watching him with another man. But he did. It felt free and good and he


delighted in the way Charlie didn't seem to care or even notice. It was enough that Charlie's attention was centered solely on Hank. When they weren't dancing or drinking they were leaning on a wall, kissing and talking. That was nice, too, and it never lasted for more than a song or two before they were back to dancing, song after song until midnight rolled around, and then longer. The Neon Sky got full, the dance floor overly crowded, and Hank didn't really mind; it meant he wound up pressed even tighter against Charlie, moving and making out. When it was after one, though, they had another beer for the road and left, not even discussing it. The beer bottles were drained, and they just headed to the door, Charlie's arm slung over Hank's shoulder and Hank's hand in Charlie's back pocket. The walk away from the Neon Sky was quiet, the thump of the baseline getting fainter and the crunch of gravel under their shoes taking over and mixing with the frogs. "Nice night," Charlie said as they went in. "Thanks." Hank smiled at him and nodded. "It was. Good idea you had there." "Most of my ideas are good," Charlie said, grinning at him and starting to get undressed. "Guess what my current good idea is." "I think I can tell," Hank said, unbuttoning his shirt. "But maybe you should spell it out for me." "Okay." Charlie pushed his jeans off his hips, wiggling a bit as his cock pushed out. "First step is getting all the way naked. Like this." He bent and stepped out of his jeans, then stood to show off that he was, indeed, naked. "Both of us." Hank took a moment to admire Charlie and nodded, his shirt coming off his shoulders. "Working on it. Then what?" He tossed the shirt onto the chair and toed off his shoes as he undid his jeans. "Then, into bed. Where I will commence licking as much of you as I can before you turn into a babbling mess and I have to stop so you can get your senses back." Jeans off a lot faster than he'd really planned on, Hank threw himself at the bed. "I really don't need my senses," he said seriously. Charlie laughed and stretched out beside him. "I'll remember that," he promised. "For next time." He kissed Hank's mouth softly and licked at his lips. "Start here," he said, "and then move on. You hold onto something." "I am." Hank locked his hands a little tighter onto Charlie's shoulders. "Something other than me." Charlie licked his way down Hank's neck and around one nipple. "Actually, I don't care. Hang on to me."


Hank did. He held on tight and then he let go and petted, his hands moving faster and more restlessly the more Charlie licked. He really hadn't been kidding about licking Hank into a babbling mess. All the way down Hank's body, Charlie found places to taste and linger, pulling moans and whimpers and the occasional giggle from Hank. When Charlie got to Hank's cock he licked it all over and moved lower, bathing the inside of Hank's thighs, hand urging Hank to first spread his legs wide and then bend his knees. "Oh, God," Hank moaned, staring at the ceiling. "Charlie." "Mm?" Charlie dragged his tongue along the crease where Hank's leg met his balls. "Please." Hank's voice was broken, his panting starting to make his chest hurt. He felt his cock lift and then the silky coolness as he started to leak, pre-come making a small pool on his belly. Charlie nodded, nuzzling Hank's balls, then licked delicately over Hank's hole. "Yes!" Hank yelled, his body going tight and his hips rolling. He grabbed his knees and pulled, baring himself utterly. Moaning, Charlie did it again, far less delicately. He licked and lapped, and when Hank though that he'd go completely insane from the rising demand of his body, Charlie started to tongue-fuck him. Hank tried to talk, to ask for more, to praise, to make some sort of effort to let Charlie know that it was exactly right, that he could get off from it, that it was hotter than anything ever, but all he could do was force air into his lungs and moan. Charlie didn't seem to need any more than that, though, and Hank thanked him for that, too. He jerked and moved, trying to get more, to get anything and to just hold on to the feeling for as long as he could, and then Charlie pushed a wet finger into him and he yelled. "Charlie!" Charlie licked and fingered him, adding more, and Hank let go of his knees, grabbed at Charlie's broad shoulders. "Fuck me. God, please!" Moaning, Charlie licked his hole once more and then lifted up, crawling up between Hank's legs, fingers still in Hank's ass. "God," he panted. "Hank." He bent his head and bit at one of Hank's nipples, soothing it with the flat of his tongue, his fingers thrusting. "Hang on. Need a rubber." Hank flung his arm out, reaching. "There!" Charlie lunged, his free hand crossing over awkwardly. "Open it." Hank tore at the wrapper, pausing to twitch and moan when Charlie hit his gland and then reached down, rolling it onto Charlie's prick. "In. In now. Now!"


"So bossy," Charlie told him breathlessly, but it hardly mattered because now meant now and Charlie was pushing in, thrusting deep. "Fuck, yes," Hank gasped, his legs curling around Charlie's hips, heels digging in. "Hard. Want it hard, Charlie." Charlie nodded and fucked Hank hard, rearing back to sit on his own heels and dragging Hank by the hips. It was primal and fast and rutting and they were both grunting by the third stroke. Charlie's eyes were closed, his head tipped back, but Hank could barely see him anyway. Hank reached for his own prick, wet with fluid and slippery in his hand. As he jacked himself, hard and tight and fast, he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Yelling Charlie's name, and "Harder!" was one thing; screaming like a bitch in heat was another. Charlie hammered into him, cock stabbing and dragging, lifting Hank's hips. It sounded like bad porn, the slap of skin and the wet sounds of sweaty bodies coming together, the sound of Hank's hand on himself. Or maybe it was good porn, because it sure as hell tripped Hank's trigger. When Charlie gasped, his hips working in a tight circle against Hank's ass, it was like a shock. Right there. Everything was right there in front of him, in him, on him. Stretching out for forever and a day and it wasn't ever going to go away. And Hank knew it. When Charlie opened his eyes and looked down, it was clear that he knew it, too. Hank cried out and came in a hot gush, watching Charlie love him, knowing he'd seen the truth right then and there, in the glow of the sign at the Neon Sky.


Chapter Ten Over the next few weeks Hank grew more and more grateful that they'd had that night at the Neon Sky. It gave him something to hold onto as a virus ran through the force, knocking one person off work after another. There was a three week stretch of overtime, split shifts and doubles, days off vanishing in a haze of work. At any given moment fully one-third of the department was down and the other two-thirds were working, picking up the slack. The only good part was that the virus didn't limit itself to the SRPD and that Shady Ridge was a small town. Aside from the usual assortment of emergency calls for accidents, small fires, wonky security alarms and one or two thefts, it was a quiet month. There wasn't even a drug bust, and the parking lot at Miss Kitty's was mostly barren of bodies, let alone fights. Business there was likely down, but Hank was just as glad. It seemed that the trouble makers were mostly sick in bed, too. Even the noise complaints were down below average. Hank and Charlie worked together a fair amount, taking turns doing the driving, but everything else was a total write-off. Every time they finished up a shift together, strung out and tense from being next to each other all day with relief a distant memory, they'd look at the latest schedule and sigh. Then one would head home to sleep and the other would go back to work. Hank worked doubles, riding with Charlie for the second half, and then he'd head to his house to crash while Charlie did his own double. Or Hank would work a single, fresh as a daisy after seven hours sleep, and find that Charlie was doing a split. For three weeks Hank felt like he barely saw his own bed, and he didn't even get close to Charlie's. It was making them both a little cranky. When they rode together they worked well, but it only took a week for the off-color jokes and teases to take on an edge born of frustration. By the end of the second week even the innuendos had vanished; it wasn't as much fun if you knew you were going home alone. When they didn't work together they managed phone calls to check in, but even that was strained because one of them was calling from the station or on a mobile phone from a cruiser. Hank found himself listening to the police radio at home most nights, just to hear Charlie's voice. He thought that was vaguely pathetic and made a point of not telling Charlie about it. They left notes for each other in their lockers; they weren't the only ones, either. The locker room began to look like a bulletin board, every locker with at least a handful of post-it notes stuck on it. The schedule changed so rapidly that it was the only sure way of talking to anyone and not waking them up with a call to their home. But it was Tuesday morning of week four and Hank had eighteen beautiful hours off, all in a row. He'd slept for six of them, knew Charlie was working a double, and the rest of his day off was booked up with helping Danny move. But at least he wasn't going to be stuck in a patrol car.


He took a fast shower and had the coffee going while he glanced over the morning paper, waiting until it was time to go to Danny's; he hoped there would be more than just the two of them doing this. Moving a house in a day with just two guys sucked. The coffee maker gurgled, signaling it was done, and Hank stood up, wishing he'd taken the chance to spend the last hour in bed, sleeping. Coffee would help, though, so he got himself a mug and skipped the milk and sugar, hoping the bitter taste would shock him into a completely awake state. He had to be dreaming, after all, because he could have sworn he'd heard Charlie's truck pull in. He went to the door to see and stood there blinking as Charlie climbed out of his truck, wearing his uniform and a huge grin.

"Did I mess up my days again?" Hank asked, holding the door open. "If I'm supposed to be at

work, I'll be pissed."

"Nope," Charlie said, bending a bit to kiss Hank as he walked in. "It's Tuesday."

"I thought you had a double?"

"Nancy came in for her shift," Charlie said, beaming at him and stealing the coffee mug out of

Hank's hand. "I'm off until tomorrow morning."

"Shit," Hank said, looking at his watch. That was just perfect. He had eleven hours he could

spend with Charlie and he'd promised Danny most of the day.

"Shit?" Charlie raised an eyebrow at him and sipped the coffee. "Thought you might want to

actually see me."

"I do!" Hank said immediately. "God, trust me, I do. I just have to be at Danny's soon, help him

move. Which was fine when you were going to be working anyway, but sucks at the moment."

Charlie shrugged. "That moving thing? I can help out. When do you have to be there?"

"About half an hour," Hank said, taking his mug back. "But you need to sleep, yeah?"

"Sure. I'll catch a few hours, change. I can catch up. Maybe help you finish up fast, too."

Hank grinned. "All right," he said, lifting the mug and taking the last swallow. "It's a plan."

Charlie nodded. "But you're going to be late; he'll forgive you."

"I am?" Hank asked, his grin growing. "What if he doesn't?"

"Danny not forgiving you will be easier to live with than me not forgiving you," Charlie told

him, gaze fixed somewhere around Hank's mouth. "Trust me." His gaze dropped a lot lower.


"I jerked off in the shower," Hank informed him. "Might take a bit of work." "I didn't," Charlie said. "I'll let you catch up." Charlie grabbed Hank's hand and dragged toward the bedroom, stopping only long enough to get rid of his boots and his weapon and all the other shit he had attached to his uniform. Hank had absolutely no doubt that he'd catch up fast. He already was, watching Charlie shed the job like it was a used-up skin. He palmed himself over his jeans, his tongue dragging over his lower lip as Charlie took off his belt and tossed it back into the living room. "You seem focused," Hank said with a grin. "You bet your ass," Charlie snapped, flinging his shirt one way and yanking his pants down. "Actually, it is your ass." Hank shivered a little and nodded. "Thank God for that," he said fervently. Charlie pointed to the bed. "You. There. Naked." Hank snapped off a salute and stripped. "I hope you realize that I'm just taking orders because it's been three weeks and not because I get off on it," he said as he scrambled onto the bed. Charlie laughed and blushed, one hand around his cock, stroking slowly. "Sorry." "Don't be, just fuck me," Hank said as he found the lube, somehow hiding under a magazine on his nightstand. "Oh, yeah," Charlie promised, crawling across the bed to get to him. "I'm going to." Hank passed him the lube and yanked the drawer in the table open, fishing for the condoms and grinning when his cock jumped at the happy, snapping sound of the lube being popped open. He yanked out a strip of rubbers and tore one off, sprawling on the bed as he worked to open it. Charlie's wet fingers slid over Hank's balls. "I've been thinking about those," he said softly as he pushed two fingers into Hank. Hank nodded, looking at the foil packet. "Me, too," he said, one knee bending. "Oh, there," he added with a gasp. "More." Charlie laughed darkly and touched him there again, pushing more lube into him. "Get it open and on me," he said, adding another finger. "We can't make choices in this state." Hank nodded, his hips twitching. Charlie was right. But Hank was pretty sure that it was going to be one of the last times; Charlie being right and saying it in the first place, knowing that they had to talk about it at all, sealed the deal. He fumbled with the rubber and got it onto Charlie, smoothing it and teasing Charlie with a few tight strokes, and then lay back. "Ready."


"More than," Charlie whispered. He pushed in, the stroke long and deep and sweet, and kissed the center of Hank's chest. "This is going to be fast," he said, his voice tight. "Been too long, honey." Hank nodded, hands petting over Charlie's shoulders. "Make up for it later." "You know it. Kiss me." Charlie's hand wrapped around Hank's prick and he began to stroke, thumbing the crown and teasing just under the head, his rhythm a half-beat off from the way his hips were moving. Hank gripped the back of Charlie's neck and kissed him, moaning with every jolt. It wasn't the absolute best sex they'd had, but it was sweet and necessary and it had been so fucking long that he didn't care. It was enough to taste Charlie's mouth, to feel Charlie's hand on him and Charlie’s cock inside him, and to hear Charlie whimper and pant. Fast and hard, they moved, the headboard hitting the wall every once in a while, just enough to add a shock to his ears each time. He really did have to get that tightened up, but he never thought of it until they were like this, making it clack and slap and bang. Charlie seemed to like it, or maybe he liked the way Hank's fingers were digging in, ass clamping tight. It might have been the way the kisses grew sloppy, wet and indecent as Hank's cock leaked and throbbed. Whatever it was, it made Charlie grunt and slam into Hank again and again, fucking with purpose and drive. "Gonna come," Hank whispered. "Can't hold it." "Do it," Charlie growled into his mouth, any semblance of rhythm entirely gone. His hips were doing one thing, his hand another, and neither of them had a beat, just want and need. Hank nodded, his eyes closing and his mouth opening to let Charlie in. He felt strung tight, almost there, every nerve about to burst. He needed just a little bit more, anything at all, and he'd blow, implode into nothing. He lifted his hips to meet Charlie's next thrust, crying out, wanting it like it was holy. "Do it," Charlie begged, fucking him again. "Come on, Hank. Give it up. Show me." Hank gritted his teeth, trying. He imagined it, felt it, followed it, and wound up stuck. It was right there, mocking him and scaring him and so fucking frustrating he wanted to cry. "Damn it," he muttered, straining up. Charlie bit him. Teeth tugged at Hank's lower lip and then at his neck, just above the collarbone. Sharp and hard, digging in and scraping, and Hank jackknifed, not even able to yell as his breath whooshed out of him and his cock pulsed, come spraying between them.


"Yeah!" Charlie yelled, loud enough for both of them. The headboard clapped against the wall in staccato applause, and Hank could feel Charlie come in him, hips pushing hard as Charlie’s prick throbbed. "Damn it," Hank gasped, holding tight and shaking like a leaf. "Jesus Christ."

"Uh-huh," Charlie mumbled, his head buried in Hank's neck. "We need to practice."

Hank laughed weakly, his arms trembling as his held on, stroking Charlie's broad shoulders. "We

can do that."

"Be better when we're working normal hours again," Charlie said, moving just enough to pull out and lose the rubber. "Maybe it's finishing up. Nancy got better fast." "That'd be good," Hank said, curling into him and stealing a look at the clock. Five minutes, if he skipped a second shower and just used a wet cloth. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Charlie said, kissing him gently. "A lot."

Hank nodded and nuzzled his jaw. "I know."

Charlie held him close for a moment. "Don't want to get up,"

"You should sleep anyway," Hank said, not moving. "Meet us later, like you said."

"Okay." Charlie sighed and kissed him again. "You're late."

"He'll forgive me."

"Yeah." Charlie sighed and let him go. "Go on. I'll see you in a few hours."

Hank nodded and sat up, then leaned over Charlie and kissed him yet again. "I love you, you

know."

Charlie smiled. "I know. But it's nice to hear. I love you, too, Hank."

"Thank goodness for that," Hank said, smiling as he got up to wash. It was looking like a pretty

spectacular day. *** Charlie found them at Danny's new place around noon. There turned out to be a half dozen of them all moving furniture and boxes, so it went faster than Hank had dared hope, though it still took a while.


"It's a nice place," Charlie said, single-handedly moving a recliner into the living room. "Good

area, too."

"Yeah, I like it," Danny agreed. "Plus the price was right. I think there's another one on the block

in the same price range if you're looking to buy, Charlie."

Hank set down the box he'd been carrying, paying attention. Charlie hadn't said much about what he was going to do, and he'd been in town for a few months. In fact, he'd said next to nothing about it. Charlie shrugged and grabbed a water bottle. "I think I might build, actually."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

Charlie grinned at him. "I'm fussy. Never going to find exactly what I want, I don't think. If I

build, it won't be too big or too small or have too few windows. So I'll look at land for a while,

see what I can do."

Danny nodded at him and headed back out to the truck. "Different set of headaches," he called

back, "but you'll like the result better, I suppose."

Charlie looked at Hank, still grinning. "I think I know where, too," he said, stepping close. "Yeah?" Hank looked up at Charlie, wondering if he looked confused. "Do you know when?" "Not a clue. Have to make an offer on the land first, save up and buy plans... it could take a while." Hank nodded. "You know," he said thoughtfully, as if he hadn't been thinking about Charlie's apartment on and off for weeks. "Shame to spend all that money on rent." "You know, I think you're right." Charlie beamed at him and kissed the tip of Hank's nose. "Are you going to ask me where I want to build? How many bedrooms? That kind of thing?"

Dutifully, Hank asked, "Where are you planning to build, Charlie? How many bedrooms?"

"Just two. And if you're willing, I'm going to make an offer on your grandfather's land. I'll meet

your asking price."

Hank blinked at him. "Why would you do that?" he blurted.

Charlie smiled at him and kissed him again, on the mouth. "Because I like it. Because it's your

land. Because one day we can put a house on it that's just right for us."

Hank went hot all over. "Charlie?" Hank said slowly, hands slipping around Charlie's waist and

tugging him close. "Are you proposing or something?"


"Something like that," Charlie whispered. "What do you say?" Hank kissed him, almost crawled right up his body to get to his mouth. "I'll cut you a deal on the land if you move out of your apartment as soon as you can." Charlie laughed and picked him up, turning to push Hank into the nearest wall. "Deal." "Jesus Christ, you two," a voice from the door said. "Take it home." Laughing and smiling so hard he knew he'd hurt for it, Hank looked over at Benny and nodded. "We will." *** The day Charlie bought Hank's land was also the day he moved in, by sheer coincidence. They'd had to wait a couple of weeks for Charlie's month-to-month lease to finish up, and then another few days to manage to get shifts off together. Actually moving Charlie back into Hank's house was pretty easy; all of his stuff still fit in the back of his truck. They stopped on the way to Hank's, the truck loaded up, and signed the paperwork on the land. It was oddly like a ceremony, even if just Hank and Charlie knew what they were doing as they signed the bill of sale and the transfer of the deed. The lawyer looked mildly bored, but Hank and Charlie were both vibrating. It was as close to a marriage certificate as they'd likely get, and Hank absurdly wished he was better dressed. As they piled Charlie's boxes up inside the door and into the living room, Hank looked around at his house. It had always been his house, and he'd never really planned to move. But somehow it felt just slightly off to move Charlie into his space. Hank certainly didn't have any second thoughts, but he wondered how Charlie felt, moving into what was so clearly Hank's. "We can make it ours," Hank said, looking around. "Yep," Charlie said, standing close and looking with him. "We can. And if we can't... well, I have a nice bit of land. We can make a new home, if you're willing." "Wouldn't have sold it to you if I wasn't." Hank turned and looked at Charlie, knowing that it was important Charlie hear him, get his meaning right. "I didn't plan to move away from here," he said slowly. "But that was because I didn't plan to have something to move to. Now I do. I won't regret leaving this house. Not if I have you to go to." "You're a sap," Charlie said softly, looking at him with bright eyes. "I happen to like this house. But I know I'll love what we build together."


Hank nodded. That was exactly right. "Come on," he said, pointing to the kitchen. "Food and beer before we start putting this away." "Nope." Charlie swung him around and kissed him, angling Hank's head just right. "This first." Hank could go with that. He let Charlie dictate the kiss, but he knew where the rest was going, had been thinking on it for a while. They'd talked about part of it, on the phone one night when Hank was manning the front desk at the police station and Charlie was at his apartment. They had land, from Hank's family and in Charlie's name. They were living together, had been for almost twenty minutes, really. And they'd decided rationally and logically and in a state of complete dress to stop using latex. They just hadn't actually done it yet. It was kind of a day for big deals, and Hank figured they might as well tie up all the loose ends. Charlie's kiss went on and on, leaving him breathless, but Hank found the focus to at least start working on Charlie's jeans. "I want you," he whispered into Charlie's mouth, the words mangled and rough. Charlie nodded, though, apparently knowing. They moved, around boxes and the coffee table, kissing and stumbling and stripping off clothes until they hit the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. When Hank reached for the lube, Charlie rolled over for him, easy as anything, his back bowed and strong, smooth even where his muscles twitched. Not saying anything, Hank got Charlie ready, scattering kisses all over his back, tracing Charlie's spine with his tongue. He hissed when he coated himself with lube, his cock stiff and eager. He'd never done this before, and his heart was thudding so hard he was sure Charlie must hear it. Finally, with Charlie moving back toward him, soft noises pushed into the pillow, Hank guided himself forward. "I love you," Hank whispered, piercing Charlie's heat and sinking into him with a sigh. Charlie's head lifted and he looked back, his eyes hooded and dark. "Love you back," he said, and every promise he could make was right there for Hank to see. Hank loved Charlie slowly, taking his time to feel it all. The heat, the wet slip and slide, the impossibly fine feeling of skin on skin and how very, very different it was. He watched Charlie's shoulders bunch and flex, thighs twitching and back arching, and knew he'd made the right choice. This was worth waiting for. He'd waited and given up on the dream of finding someone like Charlie, but he had Charlie and Hank wasn't ever going to give him up. "You found me," he whispered, pushing in faster, his breath catching and his heart pounding for whole new reasons.


"Wasn't looking," Charlie gasped. "That's why it's a gift." Hank nodded, his eyes closing as he sank into their lovemaking, each sense overriding what rational, romantic thoughts he had, his body driving and demanding that he pay attention to the fact that his cock was in Charlie's ass and it was good. He reached around, stroked Charlie off, and heard Charlie start to curse and chant, begging for more, for harder. So Hank went harder, started the damn headboard to banging, and then, suddenly, Charlie was lifting up, reaching back for Hank's hip, and the angle was just so perfect there was no stopping, no nothing other than coming and shouting and letting go, soaring with Charlie and hearing him, feeling him shoot and tasting Charlie's kisses. "Love you so much," Charlie moaned, twisting slightly so Hank had to pull out. Charlie's arms gathered him up before he could even protest, and Charlie's mouth was on his, then on his cheeks, kissing away dampness he didn't know he'd made. "It's a gift and we know it. It's good, Hank." Hank nodded. It was good. It was perfect. It was home, no matter what house it was. Shady Ridge, up on the mountain, or at the Neon Sky; if it was Charlie, he was home.


Shady Ridge and Neon Sky

Neon

Shady Lady

Shady Grove

Shady Lady

Slightly Shady

Neon Chaos

Neon Angel

Neon Blue

Neon Angel

Neon Dragon

Leepike Ridge

Obsidian Ridge

Temptation Ridge

Purgatory Ridge

The Ridge

Cold Ridge

Neon Chaos

Neon Dragon

Neon Chaos

Neon Mirage

Neon Blue

Temptation Ridge

Cold Ridge

Purgatory Ridge

Temptation Ridge

Obsidian Ridge

Leepike Ridge

Cold Ridge

Purgatory Ridge

Cold Ridge

Shady Ridge and Neon Sky

Neon

Shady Lady

Shady Grove

Shady Lady

Slightly Shady

Neon Chaos

Neon Angel

Neon Blue

Neon Angel

Neon Dragon

Leepike Ridge

Obsidian Ridge

Temptation Ridge

Purgatory Ridge

The Ridge

Cold Ridge

Neon Chaos

Neon Dragon

Neon Chaos

Neon Mirage

Neon Blue

Temptation Ridge

Cold Ridge

Purgatory Ridge

Temptation Ridge

Obsidian Ridge

Leepike Ridge

Cold Ridge

Purgatory Ridge

Cold Ridge

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