Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines runnin' through a night so tender
In a bedroom locked in whispers of soft refusal
And then, surrender
Mia's bedroom in the morning was hot and stuffy from the breaking sunlight that poured through the east-facing window, so Dom figured it was relatively early when he awoke. He stretched and rolled over, bumping up against Brian. Clearly Brian had taken his request to be here when he woke up more literally than Dom had intended.
He watched Brian for a while. One fist was curled under his cheek, and he was up against the edge of the bed as far as he could go, as if he'd come in and tried his hardest not to make his presence felt. He looked like a little boy, in a way. Dom could almost imagine reaching over and touching his face, tracing his fingers over the parted lips. Kissing them.
He got out of bed quickly and went downstairs to get something to wrap his cast in, then took a shower. This weird energy was getting a lot weirder the longer they were around each other, and the disturbing signals they were constantly sending one another were making Dom jumpy and angry. What did Brian think -- that since Dom was at ease with physical contact, it was okay to sleep in the same bed with him? That feeling comfortable with such a wacked level of emotional connection was an everyday thing? Dom didn't get what Brian could be imagining in that crazy head of his, unless all this -- his support, his friendship, his devotion -- had more to do with entirely different motivations than just helping him find Mia. And that was pretty freaking weird.
After he'd dressed he went back downstairs to see about food. The blinking light on the answering machine caught his eye. Shit. He hadn't even thought about that: no one would have been able to get in touch with him because his cell phone had been destroyed in all the chaos of that day. The cops would have taken it from him, anyway, even if it had survived. Worse, he'd completely forgotten about the store; most of the messages were from his cousin Vic, desperately wanting to know where Mia was and what was going on. It sounded like she'd at least told him about Jesse's death and that she had been tasked with taking care of the arrangements, but beyond that, he wouldn't know the vital details. Like the fact that she was missing, like the fact that Dom had been under arrest and in the hospital. There was a message, too, from Leon, confused and almost frantic, telling Mia to give Dom the message that they were headed north and they were okay. He couldn't remember Leon's cell number at all; it had been in his auto-dial on the phone; he would have to look around to see if it was written down somewhere. Maybe at the garage.
And that was another thing he'd have to take care of. Jesus, he'd forgotten about every one of his responsibilities by following this stupid plan. He should never have taken off like that. Sitting down hard on one of the kitchen chairs, Dom ran his hand over his head, taking stock of what he needed to do. It wasn't enough to have to cope with what happened to Mia, but there was all this other bullshit to consider: people needing him, business to deal with, legal entanglements... it was too much. He and Brian were forced to wait until the afternoon to go find Castelano, so now Dom didn't have any excuses to avoid dealing with it all. How did he even explain this to anyone, though?
Making coffee was one of those calming things he liked to do, so he focused on that. Mia had always been the one to restock the kitchen, so of course there was hardly anything here. He grabbed some cereal and milk that was probably close to going sour and forced himself to eat breakfast, but it was hard choking anything down. In the fridge were two fast food bags, probably the stuff Brian had brought back with him last night. He wondered if Brian had taken the time to eat anything in them, or if he had just come back upstairs to get some sleep himself. He wasn't going to get far if all he did was down a shake or a french fry or two.
It couldn't have been easy for the guy: suddenly put in the position of being the one holding it all together, dealing with Dom's horrendous temper, praying he could keep his badge and the life he'd thrown away trying to help Dom out. Regardless of the reasons, Brian's willingness to stick it out completely confounded Dom.
And so did his own feelings about Brian. For that brief, faltering moment he could imagine reaching across that bed, pulling Brian to him, kissing him. Maybe he'd even wanted to actually do that, just a little. Or a lot, and had wanted to for a really long time. What had been the worst part of finding out that Brian was a cop: that he'd been betrayed, or that he thought it was the end of whatever friendship was growing between them? Dom didn't like thinking about the answer to that, because knowing meant admitting how he felt about Brian. Accepting that he wanted more than just friendship.
But Dom didn't, he couldn't; he wasn't a faggot. He didn't love guys that way, could never even imagine wanting to be with a guy that way. And Brian had been in love with Mia anyway, just as Dom was with Letty. He wasn't supposed to let his emotions run wild just because the situation was insane.
Bullshit.
Those were all just excuses. This didn't have anything to do with fucking or girlfriends or anything else; it was all about Brian, how Brian made him feel and how much he needed Brian. Relationships with anyone else didn't matter, because only Brian made him feel like this. Dom rubbed at his face, weary of thinking about it. How were you supposed to stay focused on the important stuff when all this other crap kept coming up? He got up and put his things in the dishwasher, then listened to the messages again. Writing down numbers with his left hand was awkward and seemed to take forever.
He was on the phone with Vic when Brian came downstairs, his jeans barely hanging on his lean hips and halfway unbuttoned. He was scratching at his head, hair standing up in little spirals, and Dom had to stifle a laugh. Maybe not such a morning person after all. Vic was still fairly frantic and it took a while to calm him down and explain what was happening; while he talked Brian puttered around the kitchen, searching out the bowls and silverware. Dom waved at the coffee pot and Brian poured himself some, then refreshed Dom's cup.
Dom tried not to watch him, forcing himself not to think about what it was like to find Brian in bed next to him that morning. What Vic was saying he only half-heard, and when he hung up at last, Brian was tidying the kitchen, acting as if he didn't want to look at Dom, either.
"Who was that?" he asked, wiping a sponge over the counter.
"My cousin. He runs the store when Mia and I aren't there. His dad was my mom's brother; the store was originally in their family. I'm surprised you didn't know that -- Mia's talked to him when you were here."
Brian's shy, embarrassed smile made him look so young. "I guess I did... I just didn't put it together. Still learning the family ins and outs." He turned away, pretending to busy himself with replacing things on the counter, closing off even before they'd really started talking. "Never had much practice with all that stuff."
Dom wanted to walk over and slap everything out of his hands, make Brian look him in the eye. He hated it when Brian turned away like that; it reminded him way too much of his own tendency to be remote and moody. He wanted Brian to be... above that, somehow. It was too easy to hate in others the things you hated most in yourself.
"Sorry," Dom said gruffly. "No reason for you to remember my family shit." He turned the chair backwards and sat down, resting his arm on the back. "There were messages from him, scared and confused. He didn't know Mia was... missing and that the store hadn't been opened for a couple days. Lost inventory, not a good thing. Had to ask the guy who works for him to pull extra hours and that costs."
Brian finally turned to face him, crossed his arms over his naked chest. His skin was so tanned and smooth, and Dom stared at the light trail of hair that led from his navel down under the band of his shorts. His bruises were fading now, but still the yellow, red, and purple contrasted harshly with his skin color.
"I should have thought to check the machine when we came in. Guess I'm not a very good cop, am I?"
"We were tired; don't beat yourself up. I forgot about all of it: the garage, the store, everything. Mia would slap me."
"Anything else on the machine? Anyone useful?"
"Leon called. He said... uh, he and Letty were okay, heading north. Asked me to call him on the cell, but mine's gone. Don't remember his number. He must be freaking."
"I can call Tanner, have him pull a log. Should be able to get it in a couple hours."
Dom hesitated, tapped the cast against the back of the chair. "Uh... can I ask you another favor?"
Brian straightened; the look on his face made him appear confused. "Of course. You know that." Even after all this time they were still so awkward about the important things.
"Hearing Leon's voice reminded me that... I really need to talk to Vince. Or at least find out about him. Is there any way?"
Brian was dismayed by the way Dom asked, almost as if he was pleading. Though not like when they were arguing about going after Jesse; this was different. That same aggrieved shading to his voice he'd had last night -- an anguish Dom couldn't leave behind but that he rarely spoke of. Like he might search and search but would never find absolution -- not for the real crimes he'd committed, but for some other kind of transgression, something far more personal. Brian didn't understand it, but he was starting to comprehend that it was driving a lot of Dom's behavior.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure. If we can't get through to the room I can at least get a status report from Tanner. We're not due at this antique place till one, right? So we've got time; maybe we can even see if it's possible to visit. Though without my shield... I don't know. Hard to say."
Dom glanced up, face relaxing, that permanent furrow in his brow easing off a bit. It was that in-charge thing again, the root of everything that motivated Dom. Without knowing what was happening to the people he loved -- the people he took care of -- he was short-tempered and scared. Dom was afraid for everyone, not just Mia, and being unable to do the job he believed he had to was making him lose complete control. Brian wished there was some way to get through to him, to tell him to let go, but Dom wasn't listening.
"And there's Jesse." He didn't meet Brian's eyes when he said it.
"I know. I know. I'll find out what's the what there, too. But since he's a homicide victim there might not be that much we can do till they work their investigation. Things in real life, they move a lot slower than what we might expect."
Dom got up abruptly and Brian almost flinched back, afraid Dom was going to have another fit like yesterday. But he only came over to stand in front of Brian, pressing his fingertips lightly on Brian's left side. "Those bruises... they still look pretty bad. Maybe we should get you to a hospital, get some x-rays. What if something's been broken all this time?"
Brian sucked in a breath at Dom's touch. "Nah, man, I'm fine. Just got hammered on, is all."
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?" Brian moved away from the touch, but Dom didn't drop his hand.
"That. It's okay for you to fuss over me, but the minute someone tries to help or shows you concern, you just shut down."
Brian shook his head. "I'm not. I'm not... shutting down. There's just nothing to say. I'm fine."
Dom put his hand on Brian's side again and stared, almost daring him to move. This was really freaking Brian out now. Was Dom just fucking with him to get Brian to leave him alone, or was he trying to punish Brian for having the nerve to sleep on the same bed next to him?
Dom's voice rolled over Brian's skin like the purr of an engine, making it prickle. "Sometimes it's like I have no idea who you are. One minute you're one person, the next you're someone else. You close whatever's the real you off."
Brian couldn't quite meet his eyes, just sort of glanced sideways, but mostly he stared at Dom's feet. He didn't want to push him away, but it scared him too much, not understanding what Dom wanted, what he believed. There was so much more baggage here than they could handle, anyway.
"Hey, look," Brian said, turning his head away. "I'm sorry about last night. Didn't mean to freak you out, I just thought that maybe you might need something in the night. Plus I had no idea where to sleep and the couch seemed too far away."
"Yeah, in case I needed something." Dom had a weird smile on his face and a sarcastic tone in his voice. "Wasn't a problem."
They watched each other for a minute, until Brian pushed away from the counter and slid past Dom, their arms brushing each other's. Now he could identify that smile: it was taunting, with something harder and meaner underneath it. Like Dom really was trying to make him do something that would give him an excuse to punch Brian.
"I'll go call Tanner after I take a shower. You can finish up what you were doing." He took the stairs two at a time, then grabbed his t-shirt off the bed and went into the bathroom, leaning up against the door. His heart was going about a hundred and twenty. This was the weirdest situation he could ever have dreamed up and he still couldn't quite believe he'd managed to stick himself right in the middle of it.
Who was he kidding? He'd never have been able to dream this up even if he'd had a hundred lifetimes. Truth really was stranger than fiction, at least around Dom.
When Brian finally came back downstairs Dom was looking through the business accounts, not really paying attention to them but trying to keep himself distracted so he wouldn't go nuts. Brian sat down on the other side of the table and for a second Dom couldn't figure out what was wrong with the picture till he realized that Brian was wearing one of his t-shirts.
"I gotta stop at my house or something. My clothes reek and I didn't bring enough with me. Hope you don't mind."
Dom shook his head. "Or you could do laundry."
"Like that will happen."
"Gotta be done sometime."
Brian didn't respond, but there was a tiny smile there somewhere, Dom was sure of it.
"So I talked to Tanner. We can't go see Vince, but he had an update. They've moved him down to serious condition, which means he's still in bad shape but he'll make it. They didn't have to amputate, and that was the doctor's big fear."
Dom stared down at the book, the figures blurring in front of him. "Jesus."
"Yeah. But he's gonna be okay. He's a federal prisoner, though. That means we won't be able to see him for a while. If we get this situation sorted out... then maybe things will be better."
More weight added to the burden. And the fun just kept on coming.
"And there's news about Leon and Letty. They got tagged up in Bakersfield; PD called them in. Tanner's got them keeping tabs but nothing else right now. They're just hanging back and watching. Apparently Leon was taking her to some family up there."
Dom glanced away, feeling the shame rise up inside him, hot and sharp. "So they're safe?"
"For now. But I hope they don't try to leave; PD will come down hard on them."
Shaking his head, Dom said, "I'm a great boyfriend. I didn't even know she had family in Bakersfield." How could he blame her for the hatred that filled her eyes when he'd seen her last? He'd been the self-absorbed lover with so little true interest in his girl that he couldn't even bother to find out about the rest of her life, the part that didn't relate to him.
"Why would you? That's not like a sign of being a crappy significant other or anything just because you don't know about some random cousins in other cities. Did she ever tell you about them?"
"That's not the point. I've been with her for years, but I don't know everything about her life." Maybe Brian didn't understand what that meant, because he didn't have anyone. Or deliberately chose not to connect to people on that level.
"Whatever," Brian said, shrugging. "I asked about Jesse."
He just left it like he was saying that to hurt Dom. As if talking about Jesse was just a way to change the subject. For a wary moment Dom stared at him, wondering what he was supposed to do: prompt him, or just wait to be handed out the information like Brian was his savior? He must have been scowling because Brian sat back, looking sheepish.
"It's worse than I expected. Did you... did you hit Lance Nguyen with your car and leave him for dead?"
Okay, he wasn't expecting that to come up any time soon. "Uhh... You could say that, but it wasn't really what happened. He came flying up the hill just when I cornered and I hit him. His bike went over the side. He was moving when I left."
"But you left him there without calling 911 or anything. For someone else, a passerby, to find him."
"Yeah, I left the psycho fuck who shot my friend and tried to shoot me, my sister, and the cop who was with us. What do you want me to say?"
"They've got him in custody and they've filed charges. But that part of his story... it doesn't help us a lot."
"Surprised he's alive, considering."
"Yeah, well, he may be paralyzed." Brian said it like Dom was supposed to care. Or feel guilty, he wasn't sure.
"Do you want me to care about that? I didn't do it deliberately. I wanted him dead and I had good reason, but the way it played out was his fault."
"PD isn't inclined to cut you any slack right now. Jesus, Dom, couldn't you have told me? When we talked about Tran, at least? Do you have to keep holding back on all this criminal shit, stuff I need to know? How can I help you?"
At last Dom got what was bothering Brian: he'd believed all that bullshit about Dom being some kind of secretive, dangerous criminal and thought he'd proved them all wrong, but now it looked like Dom was just back to being the cagey crook they said he was. Instead of making him feel sympathetic or understanding, though, figuring that out just pissed Dom off more. What did Brian want from him? You couldn't just decide someone was good and make them that way because you believed it. Especially when Brian barely gave his real self away, what right did he have to expect Dom to bare his soul to him, tell him every secret, every experience?
"I thought," Dom said slowly, deliberately, "it was more important to try to help you deal with what happened to you. You're the one who killed Tran. I just had a little traffic altercation with the guy who killed my friend."
At least that shut him up. Only for a short time, though; after a lengthy silence he said, "I told you, it wasn't the thing you want to make it out to be. I got him before he could take me out. That's it. I'm not going to lose sleep over it."
"And what did you tell Tanner?"
"About Lance?" Dom nodded. "I told him that Lance was a psycho fuck who shot your friend, nearly shot your sister and you, and almost killed a cop."
Brian was glaring at him, those pale blue eyes nearly glowing with righteous indignation. Dom kind of liked him that way.
"So what about Jesse?"
"There's an autopsy scheduled. Sometimes it can take weeks; it's not like in the movies at all. They won't release a vic's body until after an autopsy; they could theoretically keep it for longer. Everything depends on the investigation. They're going to need our statements, too, to make the charges stick."
Dom couldn't even find a way to react to any of this. Vince in federal custody in a hospital, Jesse reduced to a piece of evidence as if he'd never been a human being, Leon and Letty on the run, Mia somewhere out there frightened and confused... this was his accomplishment, this was his legacy. "Don't talk about him like that. Like he's just a thing." He swept a hand over all the stuff on the table. His coffee cup, the books, the phone, salt shaker, all went crashing to the floor.
Brian just sat there impassively. He was getting tired of Dom's temper, that much was obvious. Though it seemed that Brian knew it was part of the show, so he wasn't going to buy into it. By now they had their steps down to a dance: Brian explains, I freak out, he cleans up the mess. Just another piece of weirdness in this whole bizarre picture puzzle.
Except that this time Brian wasn't putting up with it. He knelt down and gathered the shards of the coffee cup, saying in a grating, edgy voice, "Remind me why I'm here. So I can use my access as a cop to get information and clearances you could never get? Or because you don't have anyone left to worship you like the little god that you are, and clean up after you and put up with your temper tantrums?"
That, finally, seemed to bring Dom up short, and though Brian wasn't thrilled to hit below the belt, he was just plain tired. Dom looked stunned and more than a bit sheepish, then helped him clean up. He didn't say anything, though. When he stood up Brian said, "We got to be all the way to Santa Monica before one. So why don't you get yourself ready?"
Dom nodded and went upstairs; Brian watched him go and when he was out of eyesight, sat down and put his head in his hands. What the hell did it all mean anymore? Dom was either falling apart emotionally or hostilely challenging him; psycho one minute and the next, gentle and soft. Brian wanted to believe his friendship was unwavering in the face of Dom's problems, but he couldn't tell what he was doing anymore. Was it really being a friend to let Dom get away with this shit? Or would it have been better to leave him alone, let him take care of his own messes? Maybe he wasn't doing Dom any favors by picking up after him; after all, that's what everyone else had been around for, and look what happened there. Or maybe Dom just wanted to push him past his limits, test him out to see how far he'd go. Even, possibly, to drive him away because he couldn't forgive Brian, or himself, for having these weird feelings.
The worst part was that Brian didn't know how to avoid playing into it. He simply didn't know Dom well enough to truly get how to handle him; Brian had never been around anyone so volatile and emotional before. They were ice and fire: Dom had been able to melt the frozen shield Brian had worked so hard to build around himself, but Brian didn't know how to cool Dom down at all. So this is what love is, he thought: compromise and forgiveness and endurance on a daily basis, trying to find a balance between heat and cold, closeness and distance, and why wasn't there a goddamn road map for any of this? It wasn't like life had prepared him for this; on the contrary, he had pretty much been given all the wrong information on how to love and be loved, so here he was, floundering around, trying to figure out how the hell you were supposed to deal with loving someone who clearly didn't want you to.
When Dom came downstairs he was wearing that blue v-neck that Brian had picked up for him the day they'd skipped out of the hospital. A concession to Brian's feelings? Hard to tell with Dom, the way he was so up and down. But Brian liked looking at him in it, regardless.
He helped Dom get the jacket on and said, "No switchblades today, I hope?" Then he clipped his belt holster on the back of his jeans and pulled his t-shirt over it.
"Nope. Gonna rely on the power of my own fists. Especially the one with the plaster enhancement."
"You could be Cast-Man."
"In your comic book or mine?"
"Mine, of course. You'd be the sidekick."
Dom snorted. "You should be so lucky. And anyway, who would you be? Mr. Stunning?"
Brian paused on his way out the door and looked over his shoulder. Dom wore an expression that seemed to indicate he'd just said something he didn't mean to. Brian decided to take that as a good sign as he locked the door behind them.
Alberto Castelano scanned the street behind the antique shop for any cars that seemed out of place or that held occupants. This street was too big and too well-traveled to be an alley, but too narrow and badly accessible to be busy. Which made it an ideal location for a front, since you could easily be lost in the comings and goings but keep a wary eye on everything around you. Nothing looked off, so he got out of his car carefully, keeping his gaze trained on the street and the small parking lot nearby as he walked. He would have preferred to meet somewhere else, a park or restaurant or other public place, but there was no easy way to make contact with this guy -- all he ever got was a drop date by text message from a blocked number. And considering this guy worked for U.S. Customs and stood to lose everything, he wasn't going to have a lot of sympathy for any of Castelano's fucked-up business deals.
The truck scheme going haywire should not have surprised him. Amateurs were always an iffy proposition, and he'd set this up more out of a stupid loyalty to a former associate than out of any burning need to have some street-racing meathead pull merchandise for him.
Too, the idea had appealed to Berto's sense of adventure. The day to day boredom of his business was rarely interrupted, and the concept -- the sheer balls -- of the plan had seemed far too exciting at the time, and the merchandise too tempting to pass up. If he'd been fifteen years younger, that whole street racing scene would have been irresistible; as it was, just listening to Dominic Toretto's stories of the hijackings had been enough to make him wish he could be in on it, find out where a meet was happening and go watch.
Still, Toretto may have been king of that world, but he was an amateur in this one, and now he'd brought the feds, the locals, and the biggest psycho in Los Angeles down on Berto, and he didn't really want to see what was going to happen to him when all that finally blew up. All in all, given a choice, he'd have stayed comfortably out of the way of all this at his hideaway in Carmel, but you didn't say no to a couple of kilos of Mexican brown at a huge confiscated discount.
When he unlocked the iron gate and back door he stepped inside cautiously, flipping on the light, keeping his gun out and ready. Tony had a lot of low level muscle working for him, but most of them were too stupid to have figured out the security system here, so he didn't really expect they'd be inside. His dealings with Gregory had always been short, focused, and cordial, but Gregory cared only about his money and would do anything to either get it back or punish the person who'd taken it. He knew just enough about his fences, his suppliers, to keep tabs on them, but beyond that he wasn't interested in their personal dealings. Berto was nervous about frequenting anyplace Tony might be aware of, but he tried to remind himself that Tony just wouldn't care about this business unless he was in need of a last resort.
So it wasn't Dominic Toretto sliding up behind him that he expected, placing a hand firmly on Berto's arm, saying, "Drop the gun or I'll break it," and giving a nice painful squeeze for emphasis. Berto stepped all the way inside the storage room, put the gun on the floor, and as he did Toretto shoved him forward, some other guy closing the door behind them and picking up the gun.
"Where did you come from? I looked this place over for a half hour." He tried to keep his voice light, but he was seriously peeved to have missed them. Made him wonder what else he was going to miss before pow! and it was too late.
"Yeah, funny thing. People never think to look up."
Berto dropped his head. "Shit."
"Roof across the way. Next time don't move so slow. We might have missed you if you hadn't walked so damn slow and dawdled by the door."
He glanced at the other guy, who even in the dark seemed to kind of glow: spooky, sparkly pale blue eyes, surfer blond hair, tan skin, white teeth. Not the kind of homeboy Toretto usually ran with. It seemed more than just a little... odd.
"You're going to fuck up my meet, kid."
"Too bad."
"You've already fucked me over with the Armenian. This is going to help?" Berto was a planner; any change to his routine or adjustment to carefully scheduled business annoyed him.
Toretto laughed at him. "Obviously you misunderstand my presence here. I don't care."
"You've put me in a really bad spot, Dominic. I'm regretting my confidence in you."
"Well, I'm happy to let you down. The way you disappeared like a cockroach when the lights come on kind of leaves me feeling abandoned, Berto. I'd almost say you never had much confidence in me in the first place." He put his hand over his heart. From the bruises on his face and the cast on the hand, he got the impression that Toretto had been in a much worse accident that what he'd heard about.
Castelano had forgotten how much Dominic liked to spar. "Let's cut to the chase. What do you want?"
"I want to know where Tony has my sister." Toretto crossed his arms over that huge chest and glared down at him. He absolutely didn't want to show it, but Berto had always been just a little afraid of Toretto. The temper was legendary, and there was something more than a little disconcerting about a guy who could nearly beat a very large guy to death with his bare hands as easy as opening a can of beer. But Gregory, he reminded himself, was worse. A lot worse.
"You know, the last person I can afford to piss off is Tony." He watched the other guy, who was keeping a careful eye on Toretto, like he was waiting for something. But there was a more subtle undercurrent there that Berto couldn't put his finger on, something in the way the guy's eyes never left Toretto's face. And the fact that he obviously had a gun in back under that t-shirt. He wasn't the heavy muscle here, but there was more going on than he could figure out.
"Understood. But see, I could make it worse than you might think. Right now I got nothing to lose. Cops are after me, Gregory's after me, and my sister is missing. You can help me solve one of those problems, get what I'm saying?"
"Look, I'm sorry... about whatever's going on, but I got nothing to do with it. I can't help you, and I got a deal to do."
"I'll ask politely and get out of your hair: where is the fucker? I just want to know how to find him." Dom was already on the last nerve he had; it wasn't like he had an abundance of patience anyway even on a good day. He was sick of hearing the same old song about how dangerous Gregory was -- Dom was in the here and now, not Gregory or his minions.
But Berto was getting jumpy, and Dom could see that if he didn't get some space, he wasn't going to cough anything up. "When's your guy coming?"
"Now."
"You do your deal, then we talk?"
Brian gave him a speaking look, but Dom just signaled to leave it alone through a slight shake of his head. No matter what his inclinations might be as a cop, Brian was just going to have to deal with this criminal messiness. At the sound of footsteps coming up the street, both Dom and Brian melted into the darkness to leave Castelano alone. He made annoying small talk with the guy he was meeting, eventually dragging him to the front of the store. They listened to make sure Castelano wasn't going anywhere, Brian maintaining a cautious stance, as if he was expecting something serious to go down. Probably in his limited experience, any deal seemed potentially explosive; he had no sense of how commonplace shit like this was.
When he returned to the back room, Castelano seemed ready to talk. Cheerful, almost.
"Let's cut the shit, Berto," Dom said. "You know all about Tony, where he lives, who he sees. All I'm asking for is an address, a phone number. Give me something to go on."
"I'm listening." He shrugged.
"I got the money. I'm laying everything on the line for my sister: the car, the take, all of it. But I got to start by making contact. And if I don't... and something happens... well, I found you this time, right?" Dom tapped his cast lightly on Alberto's shoulder, offering his friendliest smile. To his left he could see Brian looking kind of pained, like he wanted to say something, do something. Maybe even something dangerous; it was hard to tell with Brian.
Castelano rolled his head around on his shoulders. "All right. Okay." He stared at the ceiling for a while. "He likes to entertain, you know? And this is good timing."
"Yeah, I've heard about his parties. So what?"
"No, this is a different kind of party. For legit people. A little cocktail afternoon-evening thing, at his house in the hills. All very chi-chi. Tomorrow, around four." He gave Brian a look-over, and said, "You two could fit, if you clean yourselves up a little. Dress better," he remarked in Brian's direction. "Have yourself a look around."
Dom smiled. "So thoughtful of you, Berto."
He took a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote on a dollar bill, then handed it to Dom. "Have a drink for me." As he handed him the paper, Castelano said, "You know he's waiting for you. This is how he plays -- he knows you'll come gunning for him now that he's put you in motion."
"Playing quien es mas macho doesn't interest me. If he wants to jerk my chain, he can be my guest, because I can't make him an offer if I can't talk to him."
"Word of advice. Make him give you the offer. Don't go shooting off that big goombah mouth of yours before he gives you his... requirements."
"I'll take it under consideration. So can we trust you're going to keep your mouth shut?"
"You think I want Tony to know I sent you there? Please. You can trust me."
"If you come out of your hidey hole again or make any phone calls, I will be back. And this time I'll kill you."
"I know. That's why you can trust me."
Dom laughed and patted his shoulder. "Good guy. See you later." He jerked his head in Brian's direction.
Castelano said behind him, "Hey. You're not going to introduce me to Pretty Boy here? After all this quality time?"
Dom wondered if Castelano didn't smell the cop on him. To be in business this long, he'd have a pretty good nose for it. "Brian... Spilner, my new mechanic." Brian shot him a sideways glance.
Castelano raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, and that bulge under his t-shirt is a metric socket wrench."
As he turned away, Dom tried to stifle a laugh.
After they got in the car Brian faced him. "That was... easier than I thought."
"You mean since I didn't go sick-house this time?"
"Well, yeah." Brian grinned. "But he seemed a little more reasonable than his ... whatever that guy was."
"Berto's a businessman. A cowardly weasel, but a businessman nonetheless. Unfortunately a lot of the guys who work for businessmen aren't so sensible."
Brian put the car in gear and they drove off. "Where you want to go next?"
Dom shrugged. "Home, I guess. Play the waiting game for another day. Shit." He smoothed a hand over his head. "Maybe I can try to call Leon."
"Sure. Do you mind if I stop at my house, pick up some stuff? I haven't seen any tails so far, so I think it's safe."
"That's fine." Dom was vaguely curious about what kind of place he lived in, what his home was like -- if it revealed anything at all about who Brian was.
Out of the corner of his eye Brian watched Dom, at least when he wasn't watching the traffic or the mirror for any hint of a tail. He was silent, as usual, till out of the blue, Dom asked him, "You said something the other day, about how it was the story of your life to let people down. What did you mean? Seems like everyone else let you down, not the other way around."
Great. Now Dom decided to get personal. Just when Brian was giving up on really making any kind of emotional connection to him, Dom would suddenly shift gears.
"Ah, just that I don't always do the right thing, consequences happen to people because of it." Dom gave him that kind of disbelieving look he did sometimes, like he could see through Brian all the way. When he was still undercover, it had unnerved Brian on a regular basis. "You know, I got into trouble, the usual stuff when I was a kid. And my friend, his parents had enough trouble just trying to raise him right, and I sort of dumped him in some major shit he might not have done if we weren't hanging around." He twisted his hands over the wheel. "Later, when he needed my help, he thought I ditched him. I just didn't know how to help him, I couldn't really, but I should have told him that at least."
Dom chewed on that for a while. "And you think you let your mother down?"
"Sometimes. Yeah, sometimes, and other times not so much. But her sister... my aunt Ginny, I lived with her for a while when I was a kid and you know how kids are, at some point they all swipe something from their parents." Dom nodded like he definitely knew that. "I took some money from her, barely even a few bucks, but it was kind of the last straw. She'd lost her husband the year before I went to live with her and she just didn't know how to cope; she was still really fragile, I guess. I wasn't the best kid then. I think it really hurt her. I tried to make it up later, I'd help her fix things around the house, but... I don't know that I ever made amends."
Dom didn't say anything, just stared out the window for a while. When he spoke there was a dark tone in his voice. "At least you figured out early on what you were doing and you changed. Some of us don't get that smart."
"Not smart, just necessary. And obviously I still haven't figured it out. Look at the trail I'm leaving behind me now."
He didn't say anything more, even when they got to the house. It was like a door had closed again, and Brian didn't know if it was because he'd said something personal, or hit a nerve with Dom about all the failures recently. With Dom, it was impossible to tell.
At Brian's apartment, Dom tried to get a sense of who he was from the place. They didn't talk; he poked around while Brian piled some clothes and other things in a duffel. Just looking in his closet gave Dom pause: there was hardly anything there, and all his clothes -- only t-shirts and jeans, really -- were stuffed in drawers. The idea of taking him to a Hollywood party, even for a sleaze like Gregory, seemed less than plausible.
There were some car pictures on his walls, some postcards scattered around, but it wasn't very homey. The living room smelled bad, and Brian explained that he'd spilled some food before he'd left that he hadn't had time to clean up. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, obviously waiting there since before Brian had come to the hospital.
In some ways the place was as blank as Brian was, no real clear stamp of what he was like, what his interests were. No knickknacks that looked handed down from family; no photographs of people visible anywhere. Nothing personal, nothing identifiable. Yet it had been lived in, for a long time it seemed. How could you live somewhere for so long and not bear traces of that? Dom was completely mystified by what that said about Brian. He really was the perfect undercover cop, maybe: a blank slate, a blank life. Dom had no idea how anyone could exist that way.
They left without saying anything much to each other, and were equally silent on the drive home. Dom tried to process everything that had happened today; he felt like he was on a yo-yo string and someone was dropping him down hard, pulling him up, over and over till his head spun. It was stupid to resent Brian for being what he was, who he was. The guy hadn't been to his apartment since long before the investigation, he'd said, and for some reason that brought out Dom's sour side, even though it was ridiculous to still feel that way. All Brian had done was try to help him, try to make things right, but still Dom kept hanging on to this simmering low-level resentment.
Or maybe he just resented Brian because he brought out emotions that Dom really didn't want to have, especially not for a cop. Their worlds weren't compatible, and no amount of affection or attachment could change that.
They stopped for a bite to eat and made small talk about what Dom planned to do the next day at Gregory's little shindig, and Brian filled him in on getting wired, but beyond that, they didn't speak much. It was getting on to sunset by the time they got home; the evening felt hot and close around them.
Dom was aware of the sweaty dampness inside the cast, his ribs still ached, and his scalp itched, but overall it felt like just another night, as if they were driving around waiting for a meet to start rather than biding time to get face to face with his sister's kidnapper.
It wasn't till they pulled into the driveway that the ice cracked a little, when Brian suddenly laughed out loud. Dom followed his eyeline and saw that the garage door was ajar, but laughing wasn't the response he had. His heartbeat quickened and he opened the car door, but Brian put a hand on his arm. "It's okay," he said. "Check it out."
Brian pulled the garage door open wider: the Supra was there, backed in, keys on the front seat.
"A gift from Sergeant Tanner. He mentioned to me that it was out of impound, but I didn't think..."
"Why would he do that?" Dom was baffled. Considering the way the cop had acted toward him, giving them the car back made no sense.
"Sometimes people just do things because they want to. Call it a peace offering from him to me. A way of telling me he's behind me."
Dom arched an eyebrow and gave a sharp little laugh. "You really are trying to get back in with him, aren't you?"
"That's not what this is about, but I mean, yeah, it would be good to get things straight again."
He watched while Dom looked the car over. "Cracks on the front scoop here. Must have been from when we went over the train crossing." He fingered the front quarter panel. "Shit, a bullet hole."
"Probably a few more of those." Brian leaned over. "Yeah, look at the skirt."
Dom was right on his back as they looked the car over. The heat of his body warmed Brian's entire back and made the hair on his neck stand up.
"Amazed I didn't do any more damage to it when I drove it off the road."
"I think I trashed it enough between chasing Tran and that little race of ours. That was so stupid," he said, shaking his head.
Behind him Dom's voice traveled over his skin, making him feel rubbery and weak. "Yeah, but it was fun." That low rumble reached all the way down to your groin sometimes; it was pure sex, deep and rough and sensual. Brian just wanted to lean back and let it vibrate over him. He shivered, hoping it didn't show.
Brian turned slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast he might end up face to face with Dom, which would be way too awkward, all things considered. "It's pretty much one big thrill ride with you all the time, isn't it?"
Dom cocked his head, shifting his hips slightly so that he was even nearer. "Are you saying you don't like it?"
"Oh, no, I'm not saying that."
Dom exhaled, something like a laugh, and he had that weird predatory look on his face again. Taunting, yes, but this time there was no question that it was sexual. Brian turned his attention back to the car, because it was killing him to have Dom bordering on touching him, messing around like this. "I bet the undercarriage is a disaster."
"Probably."
Dom was so close against him that Brian could actually identify specific things -- the button on the waistband of his pants, the curve of his shoulder and biceps pressing on Brian's own, the sharp line of his hip. A flush crept up Brian's skin and his heart beat unevenly.
"Geez, Dom, if you're gonna hang on my ass like that, at least pull my hair."
As soon as the words were out he was filled with a kind of scintillating horror -- he'd actually said it rather than merely thinking it, and was terrified of Dom's reaction.
Which turned out to be way weirder than he could ever have expected: Dom grabbed his hips and pulled back hard, only to slowly shift Brian around to face him. And then he did pull Brian's hair; or maybe not really pulled, but roped his fingers through it to tug Brian's head back. Then, craziest of all, Dom kissed him. Actually kissed him. That incredible mouth on his, open and wet, tongue working its way toward his throat and Brian freaked out to realize that he was kissing Dom back just as hard, as if having his tongue in Dom's mouth was the single thing he'd waited for his whole life.
It could have gone on forever -- it felt like it went on forever -- but Dom pulled away, pushing Brian's head to the side, biting and kissing down his cheek, neck, twisting fingers through Brian's hair. He pressed his head to Dom's shoulder, drinking in the sensations of those lush lips on his skin, those strong hands moving over his arms and up under his shirt. Brian moaned against Dom's throat.
But without warning, Dom was gone. Brian blinked, not completely sure what had just happened, when he heard the back door of the house slam shut. He sucked in a ragged breath, looking around the garage as if it held some kind of answer.
It was hard to tell what to do. Dom's reactions were so wildly unpredictable that Brian wasn't certain it was safe to go back in the house. In a way he could get what made Dom react that way; he was pretty wigged himself -- and he'd been thinking about this way more than Dom probably had. After a few minutes he steeled himself and went into the house. It was dark now; Dom hadn't turned on any lights, but he was pacing around the living room, phone in hand. Had he been trying to call Leon?
Brian took the belt holster off and set it and the gun on the table. Right now he wasn't so sure he didn't want to use it on Dominic.
Dom glared at Brian with a level of loathing Brian hadn't seen before, even in that field when he'd heard Brian identify himself. "I am sick of waiting around."
Brian just shook his head. "You wanna tell me what just happened?"
That seemed to surprise him. Like he thought, what? They wouldn't talk about it? Only he didn't say anything, just stood there glowering as if spoiling for a fight.
"You kissed me, Dom. You think we're not going to say anything about that?"
He reacted as if he'd been punched. "You were the one doing the provoking. Don't put it on me."
Oh for fuck's sake. He had no idea Dom could be this childish. "Oh, okay, I made you kiss me."
"Stop saying that."
"You trying to pretend you didn't do it?"
He tossed the phone on the couch. "Just forget about it. You were... you didn't need to do that. Push me."
Rolling his eyes, Brian snapped, "You just can't help yourself, is that it?"
"You weren't exactly a helpless bystander." Dom's voice was so low and quiet that a little tremor of fear worked its way up his belly. After everything he'd seen the past few days, knowing what Dom was capable of, he didn't trust that Dom wouldn't unleash some psycho shit on him with full force for such a transgression.
"Can't you just talk about this like a reasonable person?" It sounded so baldly pleading when he said it, and he desperately wished it didn't, but Brian was so afraid that this was finally it -- that last straw, and everything was unraveling between them at last.
"Give me my keys." Dom held his hand out.
"Dom, you can't--"
"Keys."
Brian fished them out of his pocket and threw them at him. Dom could move scary fast for a guy his size, and he whipped around after grabbing the keys, snatched Brian's gun off the dining room table, and was already starting for the door before Brian even realized what was happening.
"Dom!" Brian shouted.
All he heard was Dom snarling, "Sick of fucking waiting around and then shit like this happens," before the door slammed shut. For a second Brian thought about going after him, but the last thing he wanted to do was confront a pissed off Dominic Toretto armed with a handgun.
"JD and a beer back," Brian told the bartender, grabbing a matchbook from an ashtray and lighting the cigarette he'd bummed from a flirty girl he'd met on the way in. He'd spent the last hour driving around in the Supra trying to find any sign of Dom. It had to be difficult, shifting with that broken arm. Brian hoped that meant he would come home sooner rather than later, but when it didn't happen he'd gone out looking, though he had no idea what places Dom usually hung out at. So he'd ended up at a bar. He needed to call Tanner anyway so they could set up getting wired tomorrow, and he needed time to cool down, regroup.
The cigarette tasted like dog shit. It had been too long since he smoked and there wasn't much enjoyment in it anymore beyond the simple feeding of his oral fixations and giving him a focus for his slowly fraying nerves. He was terrified of the possibility that Dom had run off to Gregory's house. With, of course, Brian's own police-issue gun. It would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do, but he hadn't exactly been operating on higher brain functions when he'd left. Anyone else, it would have been easy to say "Fine, go get yourself killed." But not for Dom.
So many years spent trying to keep himself from getting emotionally involved with people, safeguarding his feelings, and he had to go and fall in love with an unpredictable hotheaded maniac. A male unpredictable hotheaded maniac. He stubbed the cigarette out, tapped his fingers on the bar. Why couldn't he have just stuck with Mia? Everything would have been nice and normal then. Well, as normal as it could have been considering Brian had blown his cover the last time he saw her.
Still... anything would have been better than falling for a guy like Dom. Someone who'd kiss you like you were the one thing keeping him alive and then throw it back in your face while accusing you of trying to ruin his life. Not conducive to a positive, mature relationship.
They were like a couple of boxers at the end of a long match, pushing each other on to the ropes, swinging hard one minute and then stumbling against each other the next. Every time the bell rang they went back to their corners, psyching themselves up for going at it again, whatever this freaky thing between them was. Then the bell rang once more, so wham! they came out ready to strike. Only there was no one in Brian's corner whispering advice or giving him pep talks about how to take his opponent down. No strategy for a slicing uppercut, no insightful knowledge about a glass jaw. Dom seemed to have the standing here, anyway.
With the weight of resignation overtaking him, Brian opened his phone and dialed Sergeant Tanner, who answered right away, even though it was late. Brian didn't feel the least bit chatty, but it was something he had to suck up and deal with.
"Sarge," Brian said. "Just wanted to let you know we made contact. Tomorrow afternoon, he's having a party, believe it or not. Hollywood schmooze-fest."
"I'll set up the wire," Tanner said. "Where are you?"
"Bar." The girl who'd given him the cigarette flashed her pearly whites at him again. Any other time he'd have been on her like sweat, but he couldn't even muster the tiniest bit of interest.
"You're chasing after your kidnapped girlfriend but you have time to hang out in bars?" Tanner asked with acid shading his voice.
He hadn't thought how it would sound to someone else. Of course Tanner would be the one to say it; he had that laser-precise way of cutting Brian down to size every time he stepped off the line. And Dom had a way of making him forget the common sense stuff. "Just part of the cover." Brian tried to sound lighthearted, but he didn't think Tanner would buy it. Too smart for that.
"Uh-huh. Give me the details, if you're not too busy with the carousing." Something about Tanner always made Brian feel like he finally had a dad, that kind of gentle disdain and cheerful cynicism that embodied fatherly qualities to him.
They talked for a few more minutes before he hung up, certain that Tanner must think he was the dumbest kid around. Patient as he was, this had pushed him to the wall, and as their week came to a close, Tanner must be expecting he was going lose his job because nothing they had promised had actually happened. He really, really didn't want that to go down; even if Dom slammed him for trying to get back in Tanner's good graces, Brian thought his sergeant was worth it.
After ordering another shot he knocked it back, polished off the beer, and decided to head back to the Torettos' house. Might as well just wait it out, finish the match. As he left he flashed the cigarette girl his most dazzling smile.
The RX-7 was in the driveway when he returned. He grabbed his bag from the Supra and went up to the guest room Dom had told him to use, figuring he'd have gone to bed to avoid contact. As he fumbled for the light switch, he heard Dom clear his throat. He was sitting in the corner, his white t-shirt the only thing Brian could see until his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, aided only by the faint light from the back porch.
That was when he noticed Dom still had the gun in his hand, and his stomach clenched. Dom was tapping it against his inner thigh, staring.
"You've been gone a long time."
"Yeah, well, I was out looking for you. Thanks for asking." Brian shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to act nonchalant, like that was going to happen with a severely off-balance ex-con waving his own pistol around. "Dom, put the gun away. Whatever point you're trying to make, you've made it. If you're trying to scare me, you succeeded."
Tap, tap. It was like Dom didn't even hear him.
"What are you gonna do with it, threaten me? You wouldn't hurt me; it doesn't serve your purpose. So, what's it gonna be? Make me strip? Suck you off?"
That actually seemed to get through to him and he sat up, glaring. "Don't be so smart-mouthed. That's what keeps getting you in trouble."
Right. Because it was his fault that Dom had kissed him, what with all the seductive wise-ass talk. "If you want to talk about this, or even if you just want to get all psycho denial about it, then put the gun away, because it's not helping. Whatever you want to do, let's just do it without the gun."
He slid the gun onto the little table by the bed, leaning forward. In some respects Brian thought Dom was actually scarier unarmed, at least when he was acting predatory and focused like this. "See? You don't know me, not at all. Whether I'd use it or not. What I'd be willing to do to you. Why I would do something. You have no idea which way I'll go. Because we don't know each other, Brian. I barely even know who you are outside of a few things you've told me the past few days. Yet here we are."
"Yeah, here we are." His heart was beating double-time now. Maybe he should ask Dom to pick up the gun again; at least that he understood how to deal with. The way Dom watched him was unnerving; Brian felt like he was actually being stripped.
"You come into my life through a lie, you dazzle us all. Make me sit up and take notice. Feel like I found something I didn't even know I was looking for." He stood up, holding his right arm as if it hurt him. Brian wondered how far he'd managed to drive before he gave up. "What is all this to you? Are you playing me? Is that it -- make me feel like I'm more than your mark... that I'm your friend and you play me for some fucked-up end game?"
"No, Dom. You know it's not like that. You know how I feel now." Even if Brian wasn't so sure how he felt himself.
"I don't know." His voice came out cracked and weak. Wrecked. "I don't know what these feelings are." Then suddenly Dom was up in his face, right up against Brian like he was going to kiss him or maybe beat the snot out of him. Hard to tell. "I hate the way you make me feel."
Brian snorted. "I don't make you feel anything. Whatever problem you have, it's yours."
Dom circled around him like a cat, alert and hungry, so close Brian could feel his breath, the heat from his skin. "I see what you want. The way you look at me, the reason you touch me. Why you're still here when you should have been long gone and why you push me to the limit." He stood so near Brian's back that he could almost feel the seams of his clothing. With Dom's deep voice vibrating along his neck and back, Brian felt limp, wobbly. "But what I don't know is why. Are you a queer, Brian? Did you get into this to take me down, or because you wanted something else? I remember the first time I really noticed you, there in the store -- your eyes were up and down me, like you were cruising me. Is this what you planned all along?"
Dom was... the only thing Brian could come up with was... smelling him as he spoke. Smelling him the way animals sniff prey. He moved his face up and down, around, so close it was like being kissed. Those full lips just a hair's breadth from Brian's ears, neck, throat, jaw. The way he breathed in and hovered, switched sides, again and again was almost frightening; Brian's entire body felt electrified, his blood hot, pounding in his head so loud he couldn't think.
"What-- what do you want me to say?" Brian stammered out. "That I don't wish this was different? That instead of being here because I wanted to help, I was here because I thought I had a chance with you? I'm not that stupid. I know how things are. "
Dom ran his hands up Brian's arms, then grabbed his shoulders hard and shoved himself against Brian. Jesus Christ, he felt so good, so strong and hot, and his fingers were like iron around Brian's shoulders and the cast dug into his tendon. The feel of Dom's hardening cock against his ass made his own twitch in response. Attempts to control his breath failed; it just came out in panting gasps.
When Dom turned him around, the way he brought his head forward so abruptly made Brian flinch in anticipation of a head-butt, but instead Dom brought his mouth to his, fiercely, greedily. He shoved his tongue in the same time as he wrapped his fingers through Brian's hair and tugged. Brian was falling, falling through sensation after sensation: the smell of Dom, his sharp teeth biting and pulling at his lip, the rough-smooth feel of his scalp, the scratch of stubble against his chin. And those arms, god, those magnificent arms and shoulders and the muscles of Dom's back.
"That's what you want, isn't it?" Dom asked, searching Brian's face for something, any kind of sign that he might see the real Brian, at last. "You're not here for anything else. Not for Mia's sake, not to keep me out of prison, just so you can get this."
Something sparked in Brian, though, and he shoved Dom backwards so that he stumbled up against the bed. As he pushed Dom down on the bed, Brian climbed above him to straddle his hips, holding Dom's arms down with body weight. It hurt, but he wasn't going to let Brian know that. His face was flushed, mouth glistening and red. Those pale blues eyes glimmered even in the dark. "Maybe I do, maybe this is what I want. But I want those other things, too. Don't try to tell me you don't want it yourself." He slid one hand up under Dom's shirt, his rough fingers circling a nipple, trailing back down to slip under his pants... almost, almost touching his cock. "You think you could do something to force me away, don't you? Scare me. Make me suck your dick, fuck me until I can't stand. Threaten to hurt me, make me your bitch?" He added a dark little smile to that. Yet another side of Brian he hadn't seen before; Dom wondered how many more were left to discover. "But you can't do anything I haven't already dreamed about a hundred different ways. And I know you've thought about it, too."
Dom slapped his hands away and grabbed a fistful of Brian's shirt, hauling him down, face to face. "I didn't ask you to come here. I never invited you to worm your way into my life, deceive me, and play me like I was some kind of game. I never asked you to look at me or touch me that way." He pulled Brian into a ferocious kiss, gripping his shoulder hard even though Brian wasn't pulling away. Brian's cock was stiff inside his jeans, stiff against his own. Abruptly, though, Brian pulled back, grabbed Dom's wrists and pulled them above his head, pinning them there. The pressure on the fracture hurt, but he didn't care -- he almost enjoyed this.
Brian stared down at him, breath coming in shallow puffs. "And what do you want? You want Officer O'Conner because he can help you out of the mess you've made?" He leaned in close, dragging his lips along Dom's neck, his scalp, doing things to his ear that shouldn't be so incredibly hot. "Or do you want Brian Spilner, just another loser who worships you, wants to race with you, who wants to be part of your team? What do you want, Dom?"
Dominic shoved his knee up between Brian's legs, stopping just short enough to avoid smashing his balls. Brian pulled his hips up, laughing harshly, and let go of Dom's wrists. Pushing back with his knee, Dom grabbed him by the ribs, flipped him over onto his back across the foot of the bed, and straddled his hips. Letting the cast rasp against Brian's skin, Dom pulled his t-shirt up, scraping hard over his nipples. Brian gasped and arched his back, allowing Dom to take his shirt off all the way. His hands squeezed Dom's thighs tight; he was enjoying this, something Dom hadn't expected.
Shit, Brian was gorgeous lying there beneath him, more gorgeous than he could have imagined even from the glimpses of his body he'd seen before. Alight with anger and lust and Dom wanted to take it all in, hold it and feel it light him up from the inside, too. Light them both up like a pair of Roman candles, sparks and embers flaring into the dark night sky.
"You. I want you." The voice that said those words didn't sound like his own, harsh and choked as it was. He placed Brian's hands on his fly so Brian could undo his pants and tug them down, then ran his hands flat over Brian's belly. Dom stretched himself over Brian, rubbing against him. He felt like a teenager, so hot and worked up he didn't even care if he got his pants off, didn't care if he just dry-humped himself against Brian and they both came in their pants. But Brian's hands on his skin changed Dom's mind, made him want this to last, and he let Brian peel his shirt off. He stroked Brian's cheek, twined his fingers through the thick curls, and kissed him with so much longing Dom wasn't even sure where it had come from. It wasn't that tenderness was foreign to him, but after all this frustration and antagonism tonight, he'd forgotten he could feel this way. "I just want to know the real you," he said, pressing his mouth to Brian's throat, feeling the pulse pound against his lips.
They kissed, this time slowly, gently, exploring each other's bodies with lips and hands. Dom paused from time to time, pulling back to look at Brian, see if he could gauge what he was thinking, but he couldn't tell. Would he ever be able to read him?
Brian's fingers skated across his chest, along his back, making his skin goosebump with the thrill of his touch. "This is the real me. The one who wants to be with you." Pressing his fingers to Dom's lips, Brian kissed his forehead, his cheek, and rested his head against Dom's shoulder. "Be in you, heart and soul and body... if you'll let me."
He undid Brian's jeans but realized that he couldn't get the rest of their clothes off from this position, not with a bad arm. So Dom slid off the bed, yanked his boots off and then Brian's sneakers, their pants. Brian watched him the whole time. As Dom draped himself over Brian, he realized he had no clear idea of how this should go. What he'd done in Lompoc wasn't like this -- as hard and eager as he was right now, this was about more than just sex.
Brian pulled him tight, hooked his leg alongside Dom's hip, and thrust his rigid cock against Dom's. That was the E-ticket ride; Dom shuddered at the wonderful friction, rocking his hips in time with Brian's, while Brian stroked one hand along his ass, the other over both their cocks. It took only a few minutes of that to make him come, spilling across Brian's hand, his stomach. Dom closed his eyes while he let the spasms ebb away, moving slowly until Brian followed him not far behind, thrusts tapering off to stiff, jerking movements. They lay there soundlessly, hearts hammering a beat in time, until Dom raised his head to stare at Brian.
Smoothing the damp hair away from Brian's forehead, Dom said, "I don't care anymore. Be whoever you need to, lie to me, tell me anything, I don't care."
Dom had wanted to hate Brian for this, to blame him for what was between them as if someone could be blamed. There was no starting line here, no finish line. No winners or losers. And he didn't know how to exist in a world like that, one that was missing all the points he needed to guide himself by.
Whatever Brian wanted, Dom wanted too -- to be inside him, body and heart and soul. To be someone who existed only for that other, that one you loved.
But there was the problem: Dom had forgotten what he was doing. He'd dropped everything crucial just to be with Brian. Only they weren't supposed to be here for each other, but to save someone else. Forgetting everything... This was what Brian had the power to do to him. This was his mistake.
He was lost now.
Lost.
End Part 4
12/18/04
My gorgeous cover art by M'lyn. Please do not take or distribute in any way.