Cristobal Rodriguez ♦ Coyote (coyoti) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-05-28 00:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | ares, coyote |
well i've got a secret, i cannot say
Who: Chris & Daniel.
What: Chris yells at his boyfriend following this and this.
Where: Daniel's apartment.
When: Immediately following this network exchange.
Chris peeled himself away from his laptop, carefully (and with no small amount of willpower to keep from slamming it) shut it. Putting his brace on, he dressed and left his bedroom, remembering to pocket his cell phone and keys before rushing out the door to Daniel's apartment one floor down. Annoyances seemed to line themselves up for his perusal; his limp keeping him from moving across the third floor quickly, having to wait for the elevator, not being able to use the stairs, how slowly the elevator moved... On and on, every small thing that slowed his progress was another complaint he was ready to level at both Kal and Daniel.
He was glad Daniel's door was so close to the elevator; five more steps (yes, he'd counted, many times) and he was there, rapping his knuckles on the door before finally just trying the knob and finding it open.
"What the fuck were you guys doing?" He started before he was even fully inside the other man's apartment, making sure to semi-slam the door shut behind him.
"Well hey to you, too," Daniel said. He was lying on the sofa, his cast-covered shin poking out from rumpled black basketball shorts, propped on the coffee table in front of him. His laptop sat open beside him on the couch, the apartment building's forum in one small window, his work email in another. He leaned forward as best he could, craning his neck to see Chris as he entered the room. He flashed a bright smile, as cheekily innocent as it had ever been in his youth. He doubted it would work, but it was worth a shot.
"Should be a Sharpie in the junk drawer in the kitchen. You'll be first to sign it, y'know. I made Kal wait 'til you could get to it."
The smile was mostly effective; Chris' frown dampened, eyes lingering over the sight of Daniel laid up on the couch and clearly still intent on getting things done. He swerved as though to hide the effect the other man was having on him and retrieved the marker from the drawer. Then he limped across the space, taking a careful seat on the coffee table across from Daniel. He leaned forward, uncapping the marker and, in a loose scrawl, wrote "I'm with stupid" with an arrow pointing up on Daniel's cast.
"Seriously, what were you guys doing, climbing shelves? Did the accident happen here?" He glanced up periodically as he wrote, his glare clearly landing on Daniel's face.
Daniel, still leaning forward to observe his partner's writing, could not help but laugh. It was poor timing, of course, but he forged ahead regardless. "Yeah," he answered. "Well I was climbing shelves. BB and Kal were just lookin' around while I did all the hard work. We were in that storage room behind where Stephan's always posted up? Turns out there's a shitload of stuff back there and I think most of it -- maybe all of it -- is from people who lived here before." He reached across himself and tapped at his right shoulder. Beneath the heavy bandages were nine neat stitches, closing up the wound the stone box had left behind.
"That," he said, "is from this box I found. Had a K on the side, all these carvings of snakes and shit. I only saw it cos I found another box that I think belonged to the guy whose badge I got on April Fool's. That's what I was after when everything fell."
He arched a dark brow at Chris. "Why? You wanna come with me when I go back in there? 'Cause I'm gonna see what's in that box."
"Uh, no," he replied, snapping the cap back on the pen once he was done. The fact that his best friend and the guy he was involved with were snooping around the building did not at all reassure him that this was a one-time event; instead, new worries entered his brain, ones that he did his best to not let show on his face. "And you'd think that you could take a hint and not go messing around where you're not supposed to. How Stephan didn't catch your noisy asses is beyond me."
He realized that frowning on potentially illegal activity, however minor, was hypocritical at best for him. "I think of anyone I have the most grounds to say you guys need to leave well enough alone. So what if they're keeping stuff that used to belong to people? Haven't you ever heard of a lost and found?"
"Wait, why do you have the 'most grounds'," Daniel asked, making little low air quotes with his fingers. "Or grounds at all. I'm the one got a dead man's badge on my fuckin' welcome mat. Stephan gave me a name but he wouldn't give up anything else. If I can find out who this dude was, maybe I can find out where it's supposed to be, or why some asshole thought it'd be funny to give it to me. Don't tell me that's not worth the effort."
"Why is it worth the effort if you're hurting yourself finding out?" Chris asked, brows drawing together over his forehead. He shook his head. "It's just a badge, Daniel!"
"It's not just a badge," Daniel snapped. "It's a dead SWAT officer's badge. Remember who I work with? Felons. So you tell me, how many ways can I read that shit? Did it come from a client? A shitty cop? Is it a threat? What else could it be?" He folded his arms across his chest, wincing slightly at the tension it drew in his stitches. "Between that and all the other fucked up shit that's gone on around here, yeah, I think it's worth a fuckin' broken leg. And then some."
Chris leaned back, hands sliding over his pants. "OK, fine, I put that the wrong way. But no, it's not worth you breaking your fucking leg over. What most people do is fucking give something like that to the police when they're worried and let them worry about that kind of thing. You're not an officer, Daniel. I get that you want to know, but you're not the only one who got weird shit earlier in the month.
"Are you having issues with any of your guys? Have any of them made threats? This seems like a very intimate way of trying to fuck you over, and if anything, if it is someone, you're just doing it to yourself." He put the marker down for want of something to do with his hands, the plastic clicking softly on the tabletop. "Besides, why do you think there'd be some connection with Pax and the badge? You said you thought it came from your job."
"Yeah, well. I found out otherwise." Daniel snapped his laptop roughly shut. "Stephan basically admitted they came from management. And he did 'fess up that the officer lived here when the old management had the place. So no, I'm not doin' this to myself, or makin' it up, or anything else. It's kinda fucked up you'd storm over here just to say that."
Chris immediately leaned forward, putting a hand on where he could touch Daniel's knee above the cast. "Hey -- that's not just why I came over here, I wanted to make sure you were all right. What the fuck am I supposed to think? You guys go off on some wild goose chase, trying to find some fucking answers in a closet? And for someone who says they work with the authorities, you sure seem hellbent on not including them in whatever you guys are trying to do." He squeezed Daniel's knee, hoping he wasn't overstepping.
Daniel frowned, but he did not pull away. "Yeah, let me just call up the Newport PD and tell 'em my apartment complex got infested with crocodiles and covered in swamps and jungles and shit, and sometimes I have hallucinogenic dreams with my neighbors, and sometimes we get weird presents we've got no legal right to possess. I'm sure my career will survive the court-ordered psych eval." He shook his head. "We're just tryin' to figure this shit out, Chris. You don't think it's weird? Weird enough to be curious about?"
He shook his head, feeling misunderstood. "I never said any of that has to be discussed. Just say the badge turned up on your step, you don't know from where, but you'd appreciate someone looking into it. Then it's off your hands and, I don't know," Chris shrugged. "At least it makes its way back to whoever it belonged to, or at least other people know you might have a stalker. Which, I will add, is not flattering to me. I don't need the competition." Daniel only rolled his eyes.
"Then again, at least you're on my level for, what, a month? Maybe two?" He gently rapped a knuckle on the top edge of the cast, hoping he was moving Daniel away from the other topic.
"They're sayin' closer to two," Daniel said. "Apparently it was a pretty bad break. But whatever. Just loan me a decent lookin' cane and I'm good to go. Those crutches are bullshit." He grinned, meeting Chris's eyes again; the other man was rolling them at the mention of canes, but the beginnings of a smile moved over his mouth regardless. Daniel had much more to say, as was usually the case, but he was content for the moment to let the would-be argument go. He reached for Chris's hand, leaning up as he brought warm fingers to his lips.
"Comin' over here to check on me." Daniel scoffed, as though the very idea was ludicrous. "I got through a drive-by, man. A falling shelf is nothin'."
Chris squeezed again. "Yeah, well, you got through the drive-by without a scratch, it sounds like home improvement might be more of your danger zone. Remind me to never ask for your help when I need to move furniture around." His smile was wider, and it dimmed a touch. "Seriously, though, like I said on the message board, if you need something, give me a list. I think I can move faster than you, right now, so I might as well take advantage of this while I can."
"Rub it in, why don't you," Daniel said. "I'm good for now. I appreciate it, though. And speakin' of the message board…" He chewed the tip of his tongue, for once considering the wisdom of forging ahead. And then, naturally, he did. "Did you mean to call me your boyfriend or was that just a pissed-off slip?"
Chris' gaze moved down to his hand, which did not remove itself. Teeth nibbled on the interior line of his lip.
"It was mostly a pissed-off slip," he admitted. His eyes moved down over the cast, his frown returning. He felt a vibration in his pocket, but he ignored it for the time being. He sighed, looking back at Daniel's face, his own expression slightly tinged with fear. "That doesn't mean I don't want it to be true. We just haven't talked about it and I didn't want to, you know, assume..."
"Assume?" The arch to Daniel's brow raised sharply. "C'mon, man. I'm not that good at playin' it cool, and you're not that unobservant. You've got to know how I feel about it. I know you've got your hangups and all, and I'm not sayin' I'm gonna shout it from the rooftop or anything, but I think we've been through enough together to put a name to this. Don't you?" He grinned, and reached out, poking at Chris's arm. "So say it. C'mon." His smile turned to a full fledged laugh. "It's not the same in print."
A wide grin met the nudge, Chris bringing a hand to his shoulder in mock hurt. He rolled his eyes once again, the gesture defused of sarcasm because of Daniel's laughter.
"What, you want me to ask you or something? Are we back in high school?" A tongue rolled over his lips, and he scooted closer to the warmth of the other man's form. "Fine. Yeah, I want us to be dating. I want you to be my boyfriend. I mean, you basically already are. Not like we're really changing anything, right?" His hand slid up over Daniel's thigh, moving to the exterior until he was leaning into the other man.
"Not yet," Daniel agreed. "Just you wait, though. Eventually I'll get you to graduate to minor public displays of affection." Chuckling, he covered Chris's hand with his own, giving his fingers a brief, tight squeeze. His right shoulder ached in protest, but he ignored that small pain. "See, that wasn't so hard. Unlike other things. Which were not damaged in the fall, I'd like to make that clear."
Chris fixed him with a look, a quarter-inch smirk curving one side of his mouth. "Are you angling for some pity head? I will say, the sight of you banged up isn't my idea of 'sexy' but I guess I could make it work." He leaned further into his newly-minted boyfriend and pressed his mouth to one side of the other man's jaw. Teeth nipped gently at warm skin, and Daniel tipped his head back beneath them. "You know, I could really make this work, where you're stuck where I leave you until I come back. How's that sound for an arrangement?"
His phone vibrated again, but Chris squeezed a button through the thin cloth of his pants to quiet it, focusing on Daniel.
"Okay one, that sounds awful," Daniel said, laughing softly. "And two, you need to get that? Somebody's really wantin' to talk to you."
Chris didn't pull his mouth away from Daniel's jaw immediately; he huffed softly.
"Here I am, trying to pay attention to just you, after some prior, emphatically made statements that may or may not have been spoken under the influence," he murmured, but he was smiling as he finally sat back and pulled his phone out of his pocket. That smile disappeared almost completely as his gaze landed on the phone screen. He quietly mouthed 'shit,' his hand moving back from Daniel's thigh.
"I... I'll be right back." He stood, carrying himself carefully around the edge of the coffee table and moved toward Daniel's bathroom. Once he was inside, the door closed, he paused for a moment to prepare himself before dialing the number back again.
"I'm glad you still know how to operate your phone, Mr. Rodriguez."
Chris' mouth gaped, scrambling for words. "I was... Look, I'm sorry--"
"I don't care. Just don't let it happen again. I have an assignment for you." Chris went silent, nodding as he listened, his brow furrowing. The person on the other side of the phone spoke in quick, clipped sentences, outlining a simple plan.
"And if I do find something... What am I supposed to do with it?"
"Make note of it, Mr. Rodriguez. And report back to me. It's a fairly easy task, don't you think?"
"Of course, yeah, I--"
"And one more thing. While you're poking around, I want to know who broke into the storage room in the lobby."
Chris went dead silent, his ears making a dull ringing sound.
"Mr. Rodriguez?"
"Yeah, I, I'm still here. I...sure, I can handle that."
"Your silence makes me think otherwise."
Chris wiped at his mouth and chin with a hand, trying to force more confidence into his words. "No, I can, I really can. I'll take care of it. Consider it done."
The voice was quiet for a moment, before it finally agreed. "Good. I expect the first update by the end of this month. Until then, Mr. Rodriguez."
The line went dead, and Chris brought his phone down from his ear, staring at it as though it might leap up and bite him. He licked his lips, turned the screen off and slid the whole thing into his pocket, praying to God that no one else would call him in that moment. Turning, he turned on the tap and splashed his face, trying to think of how he was going to keep some very particular details away from those who didn't need to know about it. He dried his face, then composed himself, and exited the bathroom, trying to look more chipper than he felt.
"So what're you thinking about dinner? You obviously can't cook, and I'm free..." He started, picking up from where they'd left off as he went to resume his spot on the coffee table next to Daniel's broken leg.
Daniel made a small, disapproving noise. "What d'you mean, obviously. I could cook just fine. Probably." He pursed his lips and glanced toward the kitchen, obviously trying to work up a plan for how he might do such a thing. Since his return from the hospital he had subsisted entirely on sandwiches and delivery. Neither sounded particularly appealing anymore. He looked back to Chris, dark eyes flicking over his face, reading signs that had not been there before.
"Hey, what's goin' on?" The brightness of his expression faded somewhat. "Not sure I like you gettin' another creepy call you look uncomfortable after..."
Chris reached out to take Daniel's hand, shaking his head; his thumbs drew indiscriminate patterns on its back. "Don't worry about it. Just...work's work. I'll get some stuff and make burritos? Unless you want something else. And then you can tell me about this stupid closet thing -- whose idea it was, why you thought it was a good idea..."
The combination of gentle touches and the promise of food proved effective. Daniel smiled once more, waving him off. "Burritos yes, stupid closet thing no. I'm already very clear on your thoughts about it, and I don't feel like another lecture right now. Maybe after a couple more painkillers. Or pity head." He grinned brightly. "Kidding. Kinda."
"Just kinda?" Chris didn't press the issue, for the moment. What he was going to do made him feel sick to his stomach, but he pushed that aside in favor of focusing on Daniel. "You keep going like that and you'll probably get it anyway. But yeah, I'll be back. Keep your phone close if you decide you do want something. Aside from head, OK?" He leaned into the other man, pressing his mouth to Daniel's in a much-wanted kiss, his other hand cupping the side of his face.
Daniel was still smiling as he leaned into the kiss, his hand raised to press against Chris's. "You got it." He nipped sharply at Chris's lower lip, then flopped back onto the couch cushions. He opened his laptop, already preparing to get back to work as Chris headed for the door.