Proven Guilty Boys in Blue 05 - (5 page)

James tried to drown out his thoughts at a bar four nights later. He couldn’t remember being more confused. He’d gone from thinking his room-mate was all bad news to rationalising that he didn’t actually feel that way. Everyone had good parts and bad parts about them. If he was going to live with the guy for another six months, then he needed to dwell on the good parts.

It had taken until Tuesday night to get that far. Wednesday night, he’d scarfed down dinner and cloistered himself in his room with porn. He’d wanted to go mindless and jack off without thinking about Shawn for one damn night.

He hadn’t managed it. Instead, he found himself thinking more about him. More about the kiss that had barely touched James’ lips before he’d reacted. More about what would’ve happened if he’d just let himself get kissed a moment longer.

And that was the kicker. Because as much as he denied wanting to go there, he
went
there. His brain wouldn’t stop, and thinking his name seemed to have a pulley system going with his dick.

Shawn. Cha-chink. Zooooop
! Like right now, he thought, staring forlornly at his lap. Trying to change the pattern, he went back to objectively defining Shawn’s good points.
Good point one—Shawn picked up after himself and sometimes James too.
That deserved a slug of beer, he thought, tossing his head back and draining the amber bottle. He held up his finger to order another. The bottle clapped down on the polished wooden surface and the bartender uncapped it for him.
Good point two, James resumed, taking the bottle firmly in hand—Shawn cooked and when he cooked, he made enough for two people. That was something James appreciated enough to do the grocery shopping for both of them. That deserved another slug.
Good point three—the dude was quiet. He didn’t make a lot of noise and now that he had his shit in his room, James didn’t have to see him when he left early in the morning. Which he’d had to do every morning since his new room-mate had arrived two weeks ago. He sipped to that point also.
Although watching Shawn sleep, even in passing, hadn’t been so bad, even if it did make him feel funny south of the waistband. He didn’t like knowing Shawn had that kind of effect on him. He should probably spit the sip back out, but he resolutely swallowed it down.
Good point four—he was smart. Grudgingly, James had to admit that in the brief time since Shawn had been the intercessory with the D.A.’s office and the police department, things had gone smoother. At least the good will was there.
Even when the D.A. had to drop a case on a perp, at least they got a notice stating
why
the charges didn’t stick. That information alone had provided two meetings in the past five days that had spawned a think-tank to use that information in finding better ways to get the evidence they needed to make the charges stick.
He drained the second bottle for that point. It was a big point. Worth a lot of beer. Or so his fuzzy brain had told him it was. He nodded at the bartender and a third bottle greeted him with beautiful cold condensation on the outside.
And that think-tank had given him and Greg a new direction to take their murder case, so that it wouldn’t get dropped later. Which was pretty awesome since they were down to three suspects, with the fiancé looking like the douchebag
perp
of the crime.
He lifted the bottle, making rings on the counter then drawing his finger through them like a big zero. Or a ‘do not’ sign. He smirked. There were a lot of things he should probably not do. All of them involved his room-mate.
The beer is wise
.
Shawn did his job. So what? It wasn’t like the department didn’t know the law. They did. They lived it, arrested with it, detected within the scope of it. But understanding the legal system and its workings in regard to how they did their jobs definitely gave them a sense of understanding. It no longer seemed like the D.A.’s office was pitted against the police department, but trying to work with them.
That was all because of Shawn.
Damn
. James sighed and tipped the bottle back, no longer tasting the brew. Alcohol had deadened the flavour, but it felt cool and soothing in his throat.
Shawn should move out. Living with the dude brought James to drink. This was his fault. James should be home, relaxing in front of the television. Or fucking Jenny. She’d been willing, even if he hadn’t.
And what the fuck had that been about? He’d kissed her. They’d started to go that direction. He’d had a passing thought that Shawn should witness the kiss, and his hard-on had throbbed. But it hadn’t been for Jenny. It had been because he’d wanted to make Shawn jealous. Had wanted the other man to storm away or break them apart, and after Jenny had left—in his made-up scenario—Shawn would take his clothes off in the living room and jack off for him.
But he couldn’t relax in front of the television because of the troublesome shit James had less success accepting. It had been easier to disregard Liam Knight’s accusation that James was gay when he had no experience with gayness being thrust upon him, so to speak. But the kiss…
He’d give anything to turn back the clock and walk out of the room before Shawn had done that. Or stop the clock and let himself feel.
The bartender put down another cold one. James took it. He’d be walking home later. It was the reason he’d chosen the bar six blocks from home. He’d expected this.
“You got one more, Runyon. Then I’m cuttin’ you off,” the bartender told him.
“Yeah, I know. You could always forget that I told you to cut me off at five. Tonight feels like a six or seven night,” Runyon suggested.
“I think your sober decisions are more noteworthy than your drunken ones. I’m cuttin’ you off.”
“Fine. See if I come back.”
The bartender snorted. “You’ll be back. Looks to me like your wrestling isn’t close to over.”
“Fuck you, too,” James muttered without venom. Which he would have said to Shawn, except Shawn might take that as an invitation, he thought muzzily. And really, would that be so bad? He lifted his beer and looked at the neon blue bar light through the amber glass.
Blue. Pretty. Kind of like Shawn’s eyes.
James groaned. The damnable kiss plagued him. It had been too much and not enough. Not just in figuring things out, but at the office. At home. In the privacy of his mind.
This kiss had been a game-changer. The kiss had the station buzzing. Not so much at his expense but laughing at Shawn, which meant he still needed to track down the motherfucker who’d seen and told everyone, then beat some shit into him on the gym training mat.
He should’ve been relieved that the guys had taken an approach, which basically left James out of the mix. Instead, it kind of pissed him off that Shawn took the ridicule without blinking. It also pissed him off that he cared what Shawn might be feeling about the department razzing.
It meant he had to respect Shawn. It meant he might actually like him. It meant a can of worms had been opened, which either required James defend his room-mate, or he join in and make the teasing worse. He didn’t want to do either.
James pushed the empty bottle away from him. “I’m ready for that last one.”
He welcomed the hiss of his opened bottle. If only he could drown the problems. Working on his fifth beer, he no longer thought it was possible.
“Might as well make this one count,” he muttered. James got up from his stool and turned to address the biggest muscle-hound at the bar. “Your mom’s pussy was so fucking loose last night that I had to fuck her toothless mouth just to get off.”
James grinned as the first swing landed on his jaw.

Shawn waited up. The oaf had been spiralling downward all week. It hadn’t looked good when he had taken off hours ago. James had chosen to ignore the challenge Shawn had issued in the precinct office. But tonight Shawn would make sure they put their cards on the table. Tonight he’d confront the detective and make him face a few facts.

He heard the front door open. Shawn took the stairs quickly, hitting the bottom floor just as James stumbled into view.
“Hey,” Shawn said. “That’s a spectacular shiner you got there.”
James glowered at him, then winced. He touched his lip when a cut reopened. “Go away.”
“Three sheets already, huh? Just as well. Maybe it’ll numb some of your idiocy,” Shawn said dryly.
“Maybe I should numb
your
idiocy.”
“That’s quite a come-back. Think of that one all by yourself?” Shawn teased.
“Fuck you.” James’ eyes went wide. “As in
yourself
. That’s not an offer.”
“Yeah, I got that. It’s generally what’s meant when someone says,
fuck you
.”
“Good. Glad that’s straight.”
Shawn laughed. “Nice choice of words from someone who isn’t straight.”
“I’m straight. You’re…crooked.”
“I promise you, there is nothing on me the slightest bit crooked.” He smiled but the joke seemed to sail over James’ head.
James wove into the kitchen.
Shawn followed. “Sit down. I’ll make you some coffee.”
James pushed him out of the way. “I’ll make my own goddamn coffee.”
Shawn stood back. “That would be impressive in your current state.”
“I’m an impressive guy.”
“I don’t disagree, but asking for help isn’t horrible either.”
“I don’t need your help,” James snarled. “Your kind of help leads to talk at the station. It fucks up my life pretty good. In fact,” he said, swinging the glass coffee pot in the air wildly, “my life has been fucked up pretty good ever since you showed up.”
“So this is about me?” Shawn asked.
“Not everything is about you.”
“Then it’s about you?”
“Goddamn right it’s about me.”
Shawn settled in. “Awesome. This should be great. Let’s hear it. How have I fucked up your life so badly that getting into a drunken bar brawl makes it all shiny and better?”
“You kissed me in the station. What possessed you to do that? Now the guys are talking about it. That’s my workplace.”
Shawn folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I know.”
James swung bleary eyes on him. “I’m not gay.”
“Yeah, you are,” Shawn told him firmly. “You’re hiding it, but it’s all over you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” Shawn stalked closer to him, put the coffee pot on the heating element of the machine and turned it on. He redirected his attention back to his room-mate. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like when a man wants me.”
“I don’t
want
you,” James scoffed.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Tell me, James. What are the uncontrolled physiological signs of attraction?” Shawn asked.
James dropped his eyes. He reached for a mug to the left of Shawn’s shoulder. “I didn’t have them.”
Shawn caught James’ chin, turning his face to look at him. “Dilated pupils. Which you had.”
“Anger can do that too.”
“Flared nostrils,” Shawn continued.
“Also anger.”
“Staring at my lips,” Shawn added.
“You were talking shit. I had to check to make sure you were actually saying something important.”
Shawn grabbed a handful of James’ cock. “Hard dick.”
James swatted his hand away. “It isn’t.”
“It
was
. Now you’re just too drunk to give it a good rise.”
“You’re pressing your luck, freak,” James snapped.
“I just gave you what you wanted. Maybe the location wasn’t the best choice. I could’ve waited until we were both home, but who knows where it would’ve stopped.”
“I do. I know,” James argued. “It would’ve stopped exactly in the same place it stopped at the station. But at least here, no one would’ve seen. No one would be talking about it at the precinct. Do you know what they say about you? How they talk?”
“So you’re mad that they know, not that it happened,” Shawn concluded carefully.
“I don’t know.”
“I can tell. Your rationalisations are all over the place. One minute you wanted it, the next you insist you aren’t gay. So which is it?”
“I—I don’t know,” James admitted roughly.
The coffee maker beeped completion. Shawn stared back at James before James shook his head and poured himself a mug. Then he poured one for Shawn, which made him smile. Angry as James was, drunk as he was, he was being considerate. It made forgiving him for his anger a thousand times easier, especially when the war inside James seemed to be going strong.
“Thank you,” Shawn said taking the mug.
James grunted. He took a careful sip. “Don’t do it again.”
“Okay,” Shawn consented. “You come to me when you’re ready.”
“I won’t.”
“If you do, I promise not to say I told you so,” Shawn offered.
“Thanks.”
Shawn grinned behind his mug. It was the closest thing to a confession he’d get, a bending of the iron will that insisted James wasn’t gay into the acknowledgement that they both knew he
was
.
It was a start.
James looked back at him unfocused, but seeming to work through a question. He leaned drunkenly towards Shawn.
Shawn laughed when James’ lips awkwardly landed on his cheek. “Yeah, you’ve definitely had too much to drink. Your confusion is leaking out for me to see.”
“Maybe just a little,” James answered.
“Because I’m pretty sure that after that blasting I got for kissing you, the last thing you
meant
to do was kiss me again. Am I right?”
“I didn’t—” James paused, clearly thinking hard. “I guess I did. You have to forget that, okay? You have to forget that happened.”
“Because you’re not gay,” Shawn repeated.
James smiled suddenly. He draped an arm around Shawn’s shoulders. “That’s right. I’m not. I like guys, don’t get me wrong. Guys are—guys are
hot
!” James informed him earnestly, drunkenly. “Tight asses. Long dicks. Guys are—but girls are okay, too.”
“You’re going to kick my ass tomorrow if you remember this,” Shawn told him. “Maybe you’d better go on up to bed. We can talk tomorrow.”
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
“Who?” Shawn asked.
“Jenny. She wanted to. I couldn’t do it.” James shook his head sadly. “I couldn’t. I wanted you to be jealous.”
“I was,” Shawn consoled him as he helped him up the stairs. “I was practically green with it.”
“Good.”
He couldn’t help himself. “Why didn’t you sleep with her?”
“I saw you in the shower that day.”
“I know,” Shawn reminded him. “What does that have to do with Jenny?”
“I wanted the shower you. Not the couch Jenny. So I left.”
Shawn didn’t hide his grin. “You wanted me naked with you over sex with Jenny?”
“Don’t tell Shawn.”
“I am Shawn.”
“Fuck. That’s not good.” James swayed towards his bed. “You think you could forget that? I think the beer I drank is catching up to me.”
“No kidding. How many did you have?”
“I told Nick, five only.” James said it emphatically. Then he sent Shawn a sheepish grin. “I might have finished a whisky or two after the fight.”
“And you’re a cop,” Shawn replied, sighing.
“Who’s not gay.”
“Yep, we covered that already.”
James held up a thumb and forefinger with an inch apart. “Except maybe a little.”
Shawn gently pushed the hand down. “Tell me that again in the morning when you’re sober. I want to hear you admit that without the benefit of alcohol.”
James took his clothes off. Every one of them. Shawn tried to look away, but it was like laying out a feast and telling a starving man not to watch. Unlike Shawn, James didn’t have to hop to get into bed, but he did climb on and flop face first. His legs sprawled wide and Shawn enjoyed every second of looking at dusky balls showing below his room-mate’s firm, muscular ass.
“
God
.” It took everything in his power to march himself out of the door. He closed it with a shaking hand, then stood another several seconds as he reminded himself of every reason why intimately touching a passed-out drunken cop was a bad move.