Partners (Private/Possibly Mature)

The sureness of Ethan‘s answer seemed to pass right by Joel, unnoticed. The young man pondered for a moment. He wasn’t even sure of what he really wanted. He’d said that on a whim, but didn’t expect his partner to really go for the idea. Joel’s eyes glazed over Ethan as he swept his gaze over the room. The firm chin, tough chest, messy blond hair, and eyes that were rough, but warm. Something about it made the breathe catch in his throat. “How about…” (A date?) his mind finished before the words actually came out. Luckily his windpipe couldn’t quite cough anything out, otherwise that sentence may have just come to life in full. “If I win, we leave early for drinks tonight. Or some time this week. Forget the reports for a bit and just go. First round or two on you.” Now he was making a little more sense, at least in one way.

The steely gray eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, only flicking towards Joel once, when he paused, obviously considering what he wanted. Otherwise, he found the patterns that weren’t truly there far too beautiful to look away from. His mind was always active, always drawing lines where there weren’t any and creating curves where lines really appeared. Hearing the other’s demand, he grinned. Looking at Joel, he said, “Well, if I win, you get to buy the first two rounds of drinks and we go out tonight.” Glancing away as the girl came in, he looked back and added, “And if it takes less than an hour, you get to buy all of my drinks.” With a wink, an expression that was oddly adorable on the normally serious face, he turned away, once again a professional. Approaching the girl, he went to introduce himself, but she cut him off.

“I remember you, cop, and I don’t have anything to say,” the girl told him bluntly, her arms crossing over her chest defensively.

Smiling slightly, Ethan told her, “Can we at least go to the conference room to speak? I know that you have nothing to say, but I have a few things that I do want to say. It will just take a moment of your time, and then you can be on your way, okay?” He waited, and finally, the girl nodded. She glanced at the secretary before going into the room. The girl sat down with a huff and Ethan sat down near her. Stretching, he told her, “I stayed up all night working on the case. It would be open and close, you know, but there is something bothering me.”

“The missing gun,” the girl said softly, not looking at him.

Ethan nodded slowly. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Even if I did, do you think I’d tell you?” the girl asked, looking him straight in the face.

Tilting his head, Ethan asked, “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Why would I know anything about it in the first place?”

“Assuming you did, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe I would be protecting something or maybe I just hate pigs.”

“Not a fan of the cops then?”

“Is anyone?”

“Obviously some.”

The two danced around for about an hour, talking and slowly relaxing. Abruptly, the girl burst into tears and buried her face in her arms. Quivering and crying, she ignored Ethan when he moved to crouch beside her and rub her back comfortingly. After a bit of prompting, she finally confessed, tears streaming down her face, “It was my gun. I wasn’t suppose to have it and he was never supposed to know about it. I bought it off the streets when I was being stalked and never got rid of it. It is illegal.” Wiping her face, she laughed and said, “And I made it that much worse for myself hiding it. Fuck.”

“Obstructing justice and legal possession of a weapon,” Ethan murmured gravely, rubbing the girl’s back. “It could be worse. You’re still a minor, and if you hand over the gun, I can tell them you worked with the police.”

Looking at him, the girl hesitated before nodding. “I will bring it myself to the police station,” she promised.

“Good, but make sure it is the right one. They can tell, and I don’t want you to get into more trouble,” he warned her gently. After a few more minutes, he straightened up. The two said their goodbyes, and then Ethan turned towards Joel. Smirking he said, “So...it is a bit early to get started drinking. Maybe we should hit the bank first.” His words were arrogant, but there wasn’t so much as a hint of a smile on his face.

That little wink made Joel’s heart skip a beat. Was that an invitation? Was Ethan really…? He filed the thoughts away to the back of his mind as Trinia entered the room, the younger man's face stoic. Even here, his partner had a much better idea of the things to ask, and Joel wasn’t eager to impede him as the pair led the girl into the conference room.

It was impressive really, watching Ethan work. During his questions, he managed to be so nonchalant, and yet every query hit the mark, visibly scoring the girl a bit more. And when she finally, unsurprisingly, broke down, Joel just sat back and sighed, waiting until neither of the other two in the room were looking at him to throw his hands in the air and curse the heavens. Ethan was too good damn it! (At least it’s been more than an hour…) Joel thought, already planning for the night ahead.

Joel locked his fingers behind his head, walking out with his partner in tow, defeated. Hearing Ethan’s remark, he responded, all playfulness gone, but still sarcastic. “Yes, yes, master, you are the greatest detective to ever live. Hopefully such a wise man is too smart to drink a lot. I, on the other hand, am going to need to drink myself into a ditch after tonight…” He idly scratched his chin, peering back into the stone face and steel eyes of his partner. Just seeing them now put a scowl on his face, letting out a loud harrumph before the pair packed into the car. “Bank, station, hell, you feel like going to a gentleman’s club, I don’t care. Surprise me.”

Ethan grinned at the wise comment, just a brief upward flicker of his lips that disappeared just as soon as it appeared. "Please don't get annoyed that I was right. I didn't actually think I would, but you could use a few drinks to relax." His tone was almost relaxed, definitely less business. Briefly he considered smoking a cigarette, and that much was obvious by the way he reached for his pocket. Stopping himself, he sighed loudly and complained, "Damn it. I can't smoke for the next twenty-four hours if I am going to drink." Swearing softly, he listened to Joel, feeling slightly more at ease with him now. They weren't friends, weren't really partners, but at least the bet seemed to get them in the right direction. "Bank first then and then back to the station. I want to finish up reports really quick. You don't have to work, just give the boss man the details so he can be expecting the girl and keep her sheltered from some of the more idiotic members of the force." Though he said no names, it was obvious he had a particular person in mind just by his expression. Starting the engine, he began driving.

“Didn’t think he would he says. Bah” Joel’s expression softened, the glare easing itself from his face. “I’ll make sure to give the boss all the details. I don’t want to lose what we’ve got any more than you do.” As the cruiser pulled up to the bank, Joel got out, giving Ethan a quick “Wait here.” before heading inside. Slipping his card into the machine, he punched in his pin and eyed the options. (Forty bucks…no way, not enough. Would a hundred do…? I don’t know how much Ethan can put away…better grab an even two hundred. That way we can grab a bite and I’ll have some pocket change for tomorrow.” Clicking the electronic input, a faint whirring could be from inside the ATM before ten fresh $20 bills popped out from a slot underneath the screen. Grabbing his card and the cash, Joel returned to the car and strapped himself in.

The pair pulled up to the station, exiting and parting ways. Joel gave a quick knock on his boss’s door, and after being let in, he stood to quickly rap off his report. Though the man didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything other than the dozen papers on his desk, he responded with an “I’ll keep that in mind. She’s safe here.” before waving Joel away. The young man slipped out and went to his desk, booting up his computer to bide his time until Ethan had finished his report.

The way Joel's expression softened struck a cord in Ethan and made him realize something. If he called the younger man on his crap, it was considerably easier to get him to relax. All things considered, that made his job as a mentor considerably easier. Calling people on their behavior was all a part of his job. Though he would never demean Joel, knowing that any trust would be built from mutual respect, he would keep him on a short leash. He would lighten his hold and pull, but only when he knew that he could trust the young man not to endanger himself. Nodding to himself, he smiled briefly when he noticed that the other automatically buckled himself in this time.

The drive back to the station didn't take long, and as soon as they were there, he went to his desk. The focused and efficient worker that he always was, he tuned everything else out until the reports were written and finished. Noting the visit to the morgue, he gave attention to detail, but skimmed over actual wording, something that might get him in trouble later. The problem was that actual words rarely stuck with him. He couldn't remember, twenty minutes later, the words someone had said, but he would remember for weeks, even months, what they had said.

Finishing it up, he sent it in before standing up. Stretching, he grabbed his jacket before walking over to Joel. "I am leaving the cruiser here. Do you mind dropping me off after we go drinking?" he asked. Running his hand through his hair, the bags under his eyes were painfully obvious, but he didn't sound tired as he added, "If not, we can meet somewhere in about an hour. That would be enough time for me to leg it home." His tone was light, less serious, but it still lacked the joking quality most would speak with.

Joel had been fiddling with various objects on his desk when Ethan walked over to him, giving his partner a quick look before going back to his tinkering. Following the remarks, he responded “I can just drop you home now if you’d like to relax and we can go from there. No skin off my nose. Later won’t be an issue either.” Joel seemed disinterested when the words left his mouth, but he truly curious to see where his uptight partner lived. (I bet his walls are all grey, and he’s got basic wood furniture.) The silent quips forced him to stifle a giggle at the thought of a stone-faced Ethan marching through his somber, drab home, no mess to be seen.

“That would work just as well,” Ethan said with a nod. Heading towards the door, he tossed over his shoulder, “Unless you have dinner plans, I could cook something for us. I don’t like drinking on an empty stomach.” Heading out, he paused in the parking lot to look around. His eyes flicked around, and for a moment, he looked around, wondering what Joel drove. He was fresh out of school, so a fancy car seemed unlikely, but he was too arrogant for something that wasn’t extravagant. Waiting for Joel, he analyzed the vehicles, trying to pick one that fit his proud partner.

Joel thought of the extra cash he’d gotten for food, pulling his hand back as he unwittingly reached for his pocket. But that was before Ethan offered to cook. The money was forgotten as Joel stood, stretched out, and replied, “We’ll eat at your place then.” Grabbing his coat, he strode out, right past his partner, and up to an old silver convertible. The young man ran his fingers along the hood, eyeing his reflection in the gleaming metal. He’d restored it himself, putting it together right from the frame all the way up to what he was standing in front of now. It wasn’t that Joel didn’t know what hard work was, or that he was so conceited that he didn‘t concern himself with such things. The car was proof of that. He just put on the bravado and pomp for himself most of the time. Not much else could steer people clear of him he found.

He pressed his key into the driver’s side lock, the mechanism coming undone with a faint pop. He stood there for a moment before looking over to his partner. “You waiting for an invitation?” He watched Ethan scurry over to the convertible before sliding in. “Open the glove box and take out the GPS. Just type in your address and we’ll be ready to go.” Joel didn’t wait to slot the key into the ignition and start the car, the engine roaring to life.

Staring at the car, Ethan wasn't too proud to admit that he was surprised. It told him one of two thing: either Joel had more money than Ethan had expected or there was something decent about the young man. Since having the car restored would have cost money and buying it after it had been restored would have cost even more, Joel would have had to be just shy of rich. That didn't seem likely, especially since Joel had obviously been sent somewhere that he didn't want to be. If he was rich, he could have just paid the right people to be sent somewhere that would fit his tastes more, and the young man seemed too proud to want to be stuck doing small cases in a small city.

That meant that he wasn't nearly as annoying as Ethan had judged him to be. That was surprising and pleasing. If the other could work that hard on a car, he could work just as hard on a case, if not harder. That boded well for both of them. It took hard work to do their job. The level of patience it took to restore a car could compare.

"She's beautiful," Ethan remarked as he climbed in. Doing as told, he programmed his address. Leaning back, he didn't bother to buckle himself this time. When he was off duty, he could care less. He just wanted to be a good cop. In many ways, the job was all the personality he had.

Joel was taken aback by the compliment, but pleased all the same, reveling in the rare praise from his partner. He almost commented on Ethan’s lack of seatbelt, but bit his tongue, instead opting to simply enjoy the moment. His thoughts were interrupted by the mechanical voice of the GPS, instructing him to take a left out of the station. Nimbly weaving between traffic, Joel chatted with Ethan over frivolous things. He asked about the status of the reports, anything or anyone he should look out for, and just generally trivial questions. Finally, after about twenty minutes or so, the droning voice of the GPS informed the pair that they had arrived at their destination. “So how was my driving,” Joel asked, his tone pricked with a joking arrogance

Ethan replied to Joel's chatting, not putting in much more than answers. He was tired and without the drive to get work done, it was hard to keep his eyes open. If it wasn't for Joel, he would have kept working much later, refining his report. Knowing that it was done and being turned in earlier than usual reassured him. Of course, he would still be there if it wasn't for Joel, waiting for the girl to show up. He felt bad not being there for her, since she was so lost and so obviously confused. Just knowing that she was on the right path reassured him though.

As they pulled up at his house, he blinked, clearing his eyes. He was going to need coffee, preferably soon and in a large dose. The idea of sleep didn't even occur to him. Glancing at Joel, he asked, "Do I look like a driving instructor?" It wasn't bitchy, but a dry observation. Shaking his head, he inquired, "Is this a plea for me to let you drive the cruiser? If so, you just need to ask."

Climbing out of the car, he led the way to the one story house. It was a small building with two bedrooms, a spacious bathroom, and a livingroom kitchen combo. The yard was fenced in with a chain link fence, and Ethan had to fish the keys out of his pocket to open it. As it swung open, a large dog lifted his head and glanced over. The brute was well over a hundred pounds, a mix of English mastiff and German shepherd. Spotting Ethan, he barked once and then lowered his head. Waving to the dog, he whistled, but the animal just ignored him. Shrugging, he told Joel, "That is Fatass or Prince. Take your pick."

Walking up, he unlocked the door. His livingroom was filled with bright colors. The furniture was artistic and clean, and there were designs painted onto the walls that balanced out the fact that there were no decorations. The colors worked well together, and spilled over to more subdued tones in the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," he said, tossing his jacket into an orange chair by the door and heading for his kitchen. The black coffee table was the only piece of dark furniture and it was covered with papers from work and empty coffee cups. Otherwise, the room was clean and bright.

Joel was silent, disheartened by Ethan’s response. His blank face slowly changed. Pursing his lips, he brushed off the remark with a shake of his head. (Tired. Tired is all.) Joel remained silent through the walk into and through Ethan’s place. He was surprised to see a pet. Ethan barely seemed capable of taking care of himself beyond the work let alone another living thing. The thought was worrisome upon reflection.

Walking in, it was Joel’s turn to be surprised. He whistled, commenting on the surroundings. “Mr. Ethan Whitestone, it seems you are quite the debonair detective. And here I thought the only colors you knew existed were beige, brown, and gray. Bravo!” he clapped along with the words, a grin lighting up the younger man’s face. He walked through the living room, fingering a few of the papers on the table before settling into one of the nearby chairs

"My last boy friend designed it. I would have preferred gray," Ethan said, brushing off the compliment coolly. There was nothing to betray the pain that the words and memory brought him, as fresh as they day he had lost Anthony. In fact, he probably seemed annoyed, probably made it seem as if things had ended badly, rather than just painfully. He was good at doing that, had lied to quite a few of his friends and family members that visited. None of them were really a part of his life anyway.

Opening the fridge, he poked through before he began to pull out ingredients. Looking over, he smiled as he added, "My being gay isn't a problem, is it? I know a few of the newbies think that being friendly means a bit more, but I assure you, it isn't." Putting the things on the counter, he added, "I also hope that you don't mind a light meal. I don't buy meat, because it tends to spoil before I am in the mood to eat it. If you do want steak, there is a market a few blocks away. I can cook it just as well as the next person, maybe even better." As he spoke, he went to a cupboard and began to take down spices. "Are you allergic to anything?" he asked, finally pausing in the middle of his preparation. He hadn't made a big deal of coming out to his partner, just listing it as one of the things to check off over dinner.

Heat rushed to Joel’s face at the statement. So Ethan really was…maybe that wink did mean as much as he thought. The rest of what Ethan said passed right over the younger man as his mind began racing over the possibilities. His normally stoic partner gained another level of depth from this. Especially when he said “last boyfriend”. Hoping that his response would be satisfactory, Joel managed to stammer, “It’s alright.” He just sat there, fidgeting ever so slightly, waiting for his partner’s reaction.

The way Joel reacted was...amusing in a way. It was better than disgust or outrage. Of course, the fidgeting probably didn't mean anything good, but as he focused on cooking, he tried not to worry over it. Getting freaked out or concerned over nothing would lead to annoyance that he sincerely didn't need. After about twenty minutes of mixing and measuring, he walked away from the stove, a timer set to let him know when everything would be done. "Do you want wine with dinner or orange juice? I don't think I have anything else," Ethan muttered, looking in his fridge. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he needed to actually make certain he had food before inviting people over for dinner. Of course, the dishes he had prepared had been meant for when his aunt came to visit in a week or so.

In the time Ethan spent preparing the meal, Joel managed to drag together a few strands of composure that had been blown every which way from the previous conversation. He attempted a pleasant expression on his face, but he could feel the nervousness contorting it into a painful grimace. He dropped the look and returned to his fidgeting, which, to his advantage, had lessened considerably. But seeing Ethan walk by, even for that brief second between the stove and the fridge, was…a breath of fresh air surprisingly. The pressure in his chest dissipated, and he smiled naturally. “Water’ll be fine. Besides, wine? Trying to get me a bit tipsy before we even get there? What‘re you planning…” Joel laughed, his anxiety not entirely gone. He had hoped his partner wouldn't see through the weak joke, or, inversely, take offense to it.

"The water here tastes like crap. We're so close to the processing plant that you can taste the chlorine really strongly," Ethan informed him, pulling the orange juice out for himself. A smirk briefly flickered over his features as he looked towards Joel and told him, "Please. You wish I was planning something." Getting out two glasses, he set them on the counter as he went back to the stove. "We're having curry over rice with a veggie stir fry," he announced as the dishes were finally finished. Quickly, he transferred the food to plates and brought them to the living room. With his foot, he kicked most of the papers to one side and placed the food down. Bending down, he scooped up the papers, organizing them and putting them in a chair, before going to the kitchen for plates and utensils. "Sorry that I don't have a proper table. Never got around to buying one."

Joel watched his partner toss aside the papers, raising his eyebrow in response. "Classy." He got up, picking at an imagined spot on his shirt before walking over to join Ethan on the couch. Every step got progressively harder to take as he neared the blond. (There is something seriously screwed up with me if I think it's okay to even look at him like that. I mean, Christ, I'm going to be working with the guy for how long! And if something goes awry...I don't even want to think about it.) The revelation put him at a depressing ease. Though sobered by it, the thought had cast a cloud over him, a dreary attitude overtaking whatever had been. Plopping down onto the sofa, he stretched out, lounging in the cushioned seat. After Ethan returned with the meal, Joel snatched the orange juice, pouring himself a cup before setting the container down. "It's no problem with me...thanks for this by the way. Saved me the trouble of paying for anything more tonight."

"I don't usually worry about organizing that stuff. I just drag it out again in as soon as I finish cleaning," Ethan told him with a slight shrug. Sitting down next to Joel, he gestured for him to help himself as he did much the same. "It's my pleasure. I hate eating at restaurants anyway," Ethan admitted with a soft chuckle. The curry had turned out well, he decided as he ate quickly. It wasn't quite as spicy as he usually made it. Eating, he spoke of the typical missions they would be getting: assessing suicide sites to be certain, handling murders, and occasionally dealing with thefts or similar crimes. He kept his descriptions light so that the conversation wouldn't ruin the meal. Standing up with his empty plate, he headed towards the kitchen and said over his shoulder, "It usually is pretty simple. It takes a lot of people skills though so that we can get the truth out of people. Knowing when someone is lying is also important." It was quickly becoming more and more apparent that he spoke of very little other than work. Unless he was prompted with something else, he wouldn't. Placing the cooking items into the sink to be washed later, he headed back into the living room, sitting down and cracking his neck, waiting for Joel to finish eating. He was still feeling weary, but going out drinking would be good for them. Forming a friendship was always nice reassurance.

Joel eyed the food warily, pushing and picking at it, simply staring down at the meal. Finally, after hearing the sounds of his partner beside him, he sighed softly and dug in. He ate without concern, the tastes and smells passing over his senses without looking back. He was vaguely aware that it actually was quite good, and the younger man made a mental note to ask Ethan what he’d done exactly, but it was irrelevant at the time. By the time Joel had finished, the unfortunate acceptance was forgotten, his face retaining an aloof expression. He got up and gave his partner a glance accompanied by a forlorn smile before rinsing the dishes and leaving them in the sink. He watched the water swirl into the drain, emotionless. “Pretty good. Last guy must’ve been real lucky. What ever happened to him?” Something in the back of his mind chided him, telling him not to be so forward, but a different part told him to ignore the former.

Ethan accepted the compliment with a faint smile, not sure if he should thank Joel or not. Of course, that thought vanished at the question. Heading back towards his jacket, he cheerfully announced, "That is the sort of thing we discuss over drinks, once I am drunk enough to not care." The way he spoke made it painfully apparent that the topic wasn't a pleasant one for him, but one that he would discuss, given the proper motivation. At the moment, that motivation was liquid courage from a brown bottle. He hated the way beer tasted-who didn't?-but he drank it out of some backwards sense of obligation. It was a running joke with him and some of the men at the station that he did everything out of obligation or the feeling that it was necessary. Perhaps it wasn't too far off of the actual mark.

The response wasn’t all too shocking at the time, though the effect was probably muted from Joel’s current apathy. Regardless, he was sure he could just write it off as another ghost plaguing the old soul. The rigid sense of duty so ingrained in Ethan’s character couldn’t belie the human underneath, nor hide the pains so evident. Though he hadn’t known the older man long, Joel was sure he was backwards when it came to showing his inner character, most likely a result of, among other factors, the intense training he‘d taken up to comport himself in such a mania when it came to his job. Ethan seemed a man who would punch a wall if he let himself be happy, turn away a drink when all he wanted was to drown his troubles, and, in this case, smile when a normal person would desperately want to stuff their face in a pillow and let it soak up the salty display of emotion.

Following Ethan out, Joel clasped him on the shoulder, gave him a reassuring squeeze, and in the same cheerful tone, answered, “Then this,” he swung his hand through the air, an imaginary wine glass filling it, “is a toast, dearest Ethan. To honest words and stupid actions that will soon ensue. May they hold us together until…well, I think I’ll get tired of you soon enough, so let’s just say until midnight or so. Maybe one or two in the morning if I decide I don't want to wake up and feel too good about it tomorrow.” He gave his partner a wry smile. “How’s that sound?”

It took an amazing amount of self control to keep Ethan from glaring at Joel. He wasn't really against being touched, but something about the young man wrapping his arms around his shoulder annoyed him. Despite that the words brought a begrudging smile to his face. Holding up his own imaginary wine glass, he counter toasted, "To patience and good times then. May this night be a good one." Pretending to tap his glass against Joel's, he headed for the side walk, glancing back to announce, "There is a pub just a block away. No point in driving when we can walk." While that was true, he also was determined to make certain that the young man did not end up drinking too much and then trying to drive. They were officers of the law. Drunk driving didn't suit them.

Making it to the pub, he held the door for JOel. It was a small place, filled will tables and stools, all arranged to make the most of the space, leaving a small area that the drunks could sway in a mockery of dancing and enough room that they could stumble to the door or lurch towards the bathroom without hitting too many things.

As soon as he walked in, one or two men at the bar called greeting to him, making it obvious that he was no stranger. He waved to them without comment, heading towards a table not far from the dance floor. It would be easy for them to talk there, even with the music. Most of the drunks would steer clear and most of the younger crowd didn't frequent the pub, so the music was never overly loud, just loud enough to drown out the old men that bawled loudly for attention.

A barmaid walked over. Ethan asked for a beer, a brand somewhere between expensive and cheap, knowing it wouldn't be totally awful. After she had taken Joel's request and left, Ethan remarked, "I haven't been here in two months."

“You could probably fit every alcoholic beverage I’ve had in the past six years in a bottle of coke. Never really found a reason to forget the world as of late. Life’s been better than it was. Used to be tough. School was tougher though, so I gave up the night life. Or whatever you’d call swiping booze from parties and paying people off to buy you a few bottles. ” A nervous laugh punctuated his tirade. Joel was jittery, finding himself talking a lot more than he‘d like. Though he’d convinced himself for a few brief moments that Ethan was on that pedestal, unattainable for more than one reason, he couldn’t forget the exact setting he was in now. Sitting in a bar, across from an attractive male, and with drinks on the way. It had a profound effect on him.

Not many of his days had been spent in an even remotely similar fashion, but more than a few nights had. (Lucky me, they stayed at the bar. Don’t think they would have if I didn’t have such a damned high tolerance for the spirits.) Joel was used to talking someone up with that trademark confidence of his, sobbing them into a few drinks, and leaving them sleeping at the counter a few hours later. The flitting companionship had been all he’d known for awhile, and offered little comfort. The solace he found was in the fact he could make mistakes. Ethan was one of the first even semi-permanent people in his life, and being that he was apt to stick around, any slip up wasn‘t going to be forgotten in tomorrow‘s headache. All of these things compounded into an elevated heart rate, a bead of sweat dripping down the back of his neck, and a loose tongue. Hopefully the heat of the bar could excuse the flush of his cheeks as well. “By the way, what’s kept you out of here?”