Christmas Cannibal – Chapter Seven

NOT EDITED

“I don’t want to tell him,” Landon whispered. “You’re the professional! You tell him.”

“You know him better than I do. Would you rather be told by a stranger or someone you knew?” Nora asked.

“I’m his babysitter.”

“Yes, the babysitter he thinks is attractive. The babysitter he takes comfort in. The babysitter he trusts.”

Landon snorted. “Does not.”

“Oh, don’t be daft. He’s immediately comforted by you touching his arm or you telling him it’s okay. Hearing it from you will be far better than hearing it from me.”

Landon crossed his arms over his chest. Defiance was far easier than begging Nora to tell him if Miguel actually felt that way about him or if it was just a way to convince him to talk to the man. “I’m not gonna do it.”

“What is taking you so long?” Nathan asked as he walked into the kitchen. “I’ve already told Miguel all of my cool abilities, and I’m frankly out of topics of discussion that aren’t about his son’s nightmares.”

Nora jerked a thumb in Landon’s direction. “He refuses to tell Miguel his son is a created psychic because he’s worried it’ll ruin his chances of sleeping with the guy.”

Landon’s scoff came out closer to a choke. “That’s not it at all! I mean… Well…”

Nora raised a brow. “I think that sort of proves my point.”

“You know all the details better than I do,” Landon said after a moment.

“You don’t have to explain every single piece of the universe to him, Lan. I just need you to break it to him. If he has questions you can’t answer, that’s what I’m here for. Okay?”

He let out a harsh breath. “Fine.” Landon walked back into the living room, where he was immediately greeted with Miguel’s worried face. “We should talk. Umm… in private.”

Miguel looked over at Eliseo before nodding. “I’m gonna go talk to Landon for a few, mijo. You just keep on coloring, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Miguel ruffled the boy’s curly hair and pushed himself to his feet. He followed Landon into the foyer and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What’s wrong with my boy, Landon?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him. Umm… Nora was just surprised.”

“Me too. But what is she surprised about?”

Landon scratched the back of his neck, eyes on the floor. “So, uh, I told you that psychics are born. Me and Nora, we were born with abilities, and we got those abilities from our dad’s side of the family.”

“Right.”

“But Eliseo wasn’t born this way. He was… umm… created.”

“Created,” Miguel echoed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that someone or something turned Eliseo into a psychic. He wasn’t born one.”

“But then someone… turned him into one?”

“Yeah.”

Miguel swallowed. “Is that bad? I-I mean, all of it is bad. My three-year-old is watching people die in his nightmares. But will it hurt him?”

“I don’t think so. Nora will have more answers than I do, but since you know me… she wanted me to be the one to tell you the basics of it,” Landon said.

“I appreciate it. Sorta like getting bad news from a doctor you just met versus the one you’ve been going to for the last three years.” Miguel tilted his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Landon watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “Does she know who or… or what did this to him?”

“She doesn’t know for certain. She’d need more time to pick through his memories and try to see if he knows. But, umm, she has a guess.”

“A guess,” Miguel echoed. He lifted his head from the wall, meeting Landon’s gaze again. “It’s not me, right? Because I-I wouldn’t have wished this on my son. I don’t know what—”

“It’s not you,” Landon promised. “She… thinks there’s a possibility it was your ex.”

“She…?” Miguel uncrossed his arms, burying his fingers in his dark hair instead. After a moment, he shook his head. “Maria was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a bad mother. She loved Eliseo. She wanted full custody of him. She wouldn’t have done something like this to him. And she sure as hell wouldn’t know how to do something like this to him.”

Landon cleared his throat, unable to stop himself from looking down at the floor.

“What do you know?” Miguel asked, hands dropping back to his sides.

“I… I don’t know anything,” Landon said quietly.

Miguel wrapped a hand around Landon’s chin and tilted his head back. Landon’s heart skipped a beat. He had wanted this for so damn long, but not because Miguel was angry or upset or scared. He had wanted it to happen before the kiss he longed for. This was just unfair.

“What… do you know?”

Landon swallowed. “Maria was a lot of things. I-I can agree to that. But she didn’t want full custody of him because she loved him, regardless of if she did or not. She wanted full custody of Eliseo to hurt you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit?” Landon asked. He pushed Miguel’s hand away. “She tried to ruin your whole damn life after you came out, Miguel. After the rumors she spread about sexual assault and beatings and…” He shook his head. “How can you give her the benefit of the doubt?”

“Because accusing someone of turning their son into a psychic who has to witness horrible, horrible fucking things at the age of three doesn’t come naturally to me.” Miguel threw a hand back toward the living room. “Maria is Eliseo’s mother. It doesn’t matter what I think of her. It doesn’t matter what you think of her. It matters what Eliseo thinks of her, and that boy loves his mother. You and your sister find me some proof first, and then we’ll talk. Yeah?”

After what must’ve been an eternity, Landon nodded. “Okay. We’ll search for proof.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m sorry, Miguel. I wasn’t aiming to upset you or anything like that. I-I was just relaying what Nora knew so far and what she theorizes so far.”

“I’m not upset with you. I wanna… I need to make that clear. I’m upset because someone cooked up some magical bullshit to curse my son with violent nightmares for the rest of his life. I’m upset because there’s even a small possibility that someone could be Maria. I’m upset because if Maria did this, she did it to hurt me, and that makes me even more responsible than I would’ve imagined. But I’m not upset with you. Ain’t got a reason to be.”

Landon glanced down. How long had Miguel’s hand been on his bicep? He cleared his throat. “No matter who did it or why they did it, you aren’t responsible for it. You’re a homicide cop, Miguel. You know how this goes. The victim didn’t ask for the killer to kill them. The living victim didn’t ask the killer to hunt down their boyfriend or girlfriend or friends so they could be together. You aren’t to blame. The person who… created a psychic in an innocent little boy–they’re to blame.”

Miguel closed his eyes and gave Landon’s arm a tight squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go see what your sister’s next piece of advice is.”

***

Nora’s advice unfortunately hadn’t been as helpful as Miguel had hoped. Of course, there was a damn slim chance that anything would seem helpful to the man who had discovered his son was a psychic and that monsters were real in the same damn day.

Her advice had been little more than to just… sit with it until further notice. Nora didn’t have much experience in created psychics, and apparently, she needed to do a bit of digging before she could come back with any real ideas. For the time being, she had given Eliseo a necklace to help ward off the spirits that sent him the nightmares. She had called the charm a witch’s something, but Miguel couldn’t quite remember. His brain was a bit too full for any more information to stick.

The drive back home was quiet. Landon didn’t say much, and Miguel simply didn’t know how the hell to carry on a conversation anymore.

Now, back home, Miguel pulled a sleeping Eliseo out of the carseat in the back. The boy’s arms hung over Miguel’s shoulders, his little lamb clutched in one hand.

“I’m sorry Nora didn’t have more to say,” Landon said quietly, hands shoved into his pockets. “We weren’t expecting him to be a created psychic. That… that muddles things a bit.”

“It’s all right. The charm she gave him is still appreciated.” Miguel cleared his throat, hiking Eliseo up on his chest. “I know Nora told you more than she told me. What’s our next step?”

“She… thought you might be too biased to help with it.”

“What?”

“Helping to prove if Maria did this or if it was someone or something else,” Landon said.

“Giving her the benefit of the doubt when it comes to the child she gave birth to doesn’t make me biased. It means I do my best to keep Maria in as much of a positive light as I can without gaslighting myself.” Miguel closed his eyes for a moment. “If a monster killed this boy, going into work eight to twelve hours a day isn’t going to help me. It isn’t going to help bring justice to the kid or his family. So if you want help finding proof, let’s do it. I’ll work outside of the station and be on call in case this bastard grabs another kid. Okay?”

Landon watched him for what felt like an eternity. Miguel wished that length of eye contact was for something other than a discussion about supernatural monsters, child murderers, his ex-wife cursing their son, and death.

But that didn’t seem to be an option in his life.

“Okay. Tomorrow works?”

“Yeah, tomorrow works. You wanna come over at six like usual? I don’t really know how you want to go about this, but we can start before Eliseo wakes up, maybe make some progress before we have to pretend we aren’t researching monsters.”

Landon nodded. “I’ll come over at six.” Landon cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Miguel. Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day of balancing lies and fatherhood.”

“Yeah,” Miguel whispered. He reached out and squeezed Landon’s shoulder with his free hand. “Goodnight, Landon. I imagine it was hard, but thank you for telling me about you and your sister. I appreciate the help here.”

The younger man offered a nearly nervous smile. “No problem, Miguel. Night.”

Miguel made his way up to the house, pulling his keys from his pocket at the door. He unlocked it and stepped into the house. He hadn’t picked up any extra locks that day, but he’d make a note of it for tomorrow, just to be safe.

With Eliseo in his arms, Miguel walked around the house and checked every door and window. They were all closed, all locked. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing like hell he didn’t feel so utterly… helpless. He had spent the majority of his career chasing after murderers, and before that, he’d spent it chasing down criminals of any degree. Despite being involved in his fair share of shootouts, an accidental drug bust or two, and more than one hostage situation, he had never felt fear quite like how it felt now.

Losing his life to another human being was one thing. Eliseo losing his to some supernatural being was another.

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Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

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Christmas Cannibal – Chapter Six

A/N: If you read this book before today (April 9th, 2021), I’d suggest going back and re-reading for the full character stories! I’ve added scenes and descriptions in the first five chapters to solidify this as a romance, which is far more fun for me to write and has a much better chance of me being able to finish it! You can go back to chapter one by clicking here.

NOT EDITED

Landon pulled into the drive of a relatively nice-looking house. Of course, in comparison to Miguel’s place, about the only thing that wasn’t nice-looking was a crack den, but Landon’s sister appeared to have money, and a lot of it.

“Your sister’s a real psychic… right? Not one of those scam artists?” Miguel asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

Miguel gestured to the house beyond the windshield. “How does a psychic who doesn’t leave the house afford this place?”

Landon chuckled softly, shaking his head as he undid his seatbelt. “For the good of everyone involved, I’m not going to answer that, Detective.”

After a moment, Miguel nodded. She was involved in something illegal, one way or another. Or had been at some point. Either way, it appeared to have set her up rather well. Miguel couldn’t help but feel just a little burned by that.

Still, he had his son to worry about, and that meant keeping his law-abiding instincts at bay long enough to get the help they needed. “So… what do we do here, Landon? Just walk in? You gotta introduce us ahead of time to security so we don’t get shot?”

Landon snorted before his expression turned sympathetic. “I know it seems like a lot, but it’ll be okay. Nora’s a good person, and she’s great with kids. Christ, there are three psychic little gremlins in there with her now. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s just going to help you and Eliseo… work together. There’s no security. We aren’t gonna get shot.” He smiled. “She’s psychic. She already knows we’re here anyway.”

Miguel offered a smile of his own. “So I guess it’s too late to back out then, huh?”

The younger man laughed. “Yeah, just a little, unfortunately.”

“Damn,” Miguel whispered. Letting out a breath, he undid his seatbelt. “Let’s do this, then.” He slid out of the car and pulled open the back door. He unbuckled Eliseo and lifted him out of his seat. The boy stirred, wrapping an arm loosely around Miguel’s neck.

Landon closed both doors on the car. “She’s not going to do anything to hurt him. She’s just going to help us understand how strong he is, what his abilities are. It’ll help you better understand how to help him through certain things.”

“I know. At least, I sort of know. I’m just…”

“Struggling?”

Miguel nodded. “I don’t understand. Isn’t this psychic thing, like… genetic? I’ve watched a ghost show here and there, and a lot of those psychics are the second or third generation of psychics in their family.”

“Usually. In my experience, anyway,” Landon said with a little nod. “That’s actually part of the reason I want you and Eliseo to meet Nora. If anyone can explain why he’s one but you don’t know of any in your family or his mom’s family, it’s Nora.”

“What if she can’t?”

“I prefer to focus on what if she can,” Landon said. He squeezed Miguel’s arm, but the warmth of his hand disappeared just as quickly as it had come. Admittedly, Miguel wished it had stayed there a hell of a lot longer. To say he was touch-starved was probably a massive understatement. It was something he tried not to think about too much, something he tried not to really focus on. His career was more important than friendships or sexual relationships. His career put a roof over Eliseo’s head, clothes on his back, food in his stomach. Those things would always come before any desire or urge for Miguel. Always.

“Are you ready to go find out if she can?” Landon asked.

Miguel forced himself to nod. “Lead the way.” With Eliseo wrapped securely in his arms, Miguel followed Landon up to the house. Just before they reached the door, a thin redhead opened it. She was a natural ginger like Landon, though her hair leaned more toward reddish-orange and less toward the reddish-brown that Landon’s did. They shared the same shade of pale skin, the same freckles on their face and exposed arms.

She smiled softly. “I was beginning to worry you’d changed your mind.”

“We were just talking out some nerves,” Landon said. “Nora, this is Miguel and his son Eliseo. Miguel, this is Nora and her husband Nathan.”

The man stuck out a hand. “Nate works fine.”

Miguel adjusted his grip on Eliseo and gave Nathan’s hand a firm shake. “Thank you both for having us over. I’m sure you have much better ways to spend a Monday night.”

“I usually just skim my help forums until I fall asleep for a few hours.” Nora wrapped a hand around Nathan’s arm and took a small step back. “Come on in. Let’s see what we can do for your boy.”

Miguel stepped into the house, Landon behind him. Once the younger man kicked off his shoes, Miguel did the same. “I think this will sound rude no matter how I ask it, but I don’t mean it that way. How can you… do anything for him?”

“I guess it’s about your perspective on the situation. To me, helping you understand him and helping you know how to help him is doing something for him. Being able to help explain a little bit why he’s like this and you aren’t is doing something for him. Finding a way to help chase away some of those nasty nightmares is doing something for him.”

“Y-you can do that? Help get rid of the nightmares?”

Nora shook her head. “ ‘Get rid of’ is… unfortunately too strong of a term. But given enough time, I can possibly help find a way to deter them.”

“Deter them how?”

“Make them occur less often, less intensely. Is that agreeable?”

Miguel nodded so fast it made him a little dizzy. “Yes. Yes, it’s agreeable. Anything that helps him.”

Nora smiled. “That’s a good start. I’ve met a lot of parents that will do just about anything to get rid of it completely, no matter what their kid wants.”

“I get it,” Miguel said. “I don’t want him to suffer through this. I don’t want him seeing the things he sees.”

“You’re a good dad. In my experience so far, most of the parents who come to see me because they want it gone desire it because they’re tired of dealing with calls from the school or other parents about the weird stories their kid tells the other kids. It’s unfortunate, is all.” Nora nodded off to the left. “Come on. We’ll talk in the living room.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Landon said as they followed Nora and Nathan through the house. “Nora’s the best there is for this sort of thing.”

“I have a feeling Nora is the only there is for this sort of thing.”

Landon chuckled. “Probably. But even if there are a million people like her doing this exact same thing, I’m willing to bet she’s the best. She’s the strongest psychic the Devil’s ever seen.”

Miguel glanced down at him. “Should… I be worried that you chose ‘Devil’ instead of ‘God’?”

A nearly mischievous little smile came to Landon’s face as he offered a shrug. “Up to you.”

“Cool,” Miguel whispered.

In the living room, Landon dropped down on the couch and Nora and her husband sat on the loveseat across the room. Letting out a breath, Miguel sat down beside Landon and shifted Eliseo to his lap. The boy stirred, head dropping to Miguel’s chest rather than his shoulder.

“Landon told me he has nightmares,” Nora said.

Miguel nodded. “They used to mostly be bad things happening to animals, and that started about a year or so ago.”

“What kind of bad things?”

“I don’t know. He never gave me a lot of details. A lot of cows, though. I know that much.”

One corner of Nora’s mouth scrunched up for a moment. “And the current nightmares, the ones with human death. How long has that been going on?”

“Since his mom died. About six months.”

Nora nodded. “How did his mother die?”

“I-I’m sorry. If you’re as good as Landon says you are, shouldn’t you know all this already?”

Nora’s smile was nothing but understanding. “I get the apprehension. There are a lot of scammers out there working under the guise of supernatural sensitivity, but I’m not one of them. I know bits and pieces about you, but I do my best not to pry into a person’s mind or feelings without permission or necessity. So long as you answer my questions, that necessity doesn’t arrive.”

Miguel closed his eyes before bringing himself to nod. “I don’t know how she died. We were already divorced by then, and the cause of her death was only released to her family.”

“Mm.” She pointed at Eliseo. “Do you think her family told him what happened?”

“I doubt it. But, umm… but he was found in her car parked outside of where her body was found.”

“Jesus,” Nora whispered. “Do you know if he saw it happen?”

Miguel shook his head. “No idea. I’ve assumed it’s… likely that he saw or heard it, but I don’t know. We don’t really talk much about the day Mommy died, you know?”

“Of course.” Nora reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears. “Can I touch his arm? His arm or his hand gives me a better reading than sitting across the room does, and from over here, things are a bit hazier than usual.”

“What does that mean? That it’s hazier?”

“That he’s a little stronger than I’m used to.”

Miguel nodded, though he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Go ahead.”

Nora pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the couch. A hand on Landon’s knee, she squatted down in front of Miguel. “Eliseo, honey?”

Eliseo’s eyes fluttered open. “Where are we, Daddy?”

“This is Landon’s sister, Nora. We’re at her house,” Miguel said, struggling to force every word past the lump in his throat.

Eliseo looked up at Landon. “Are you in trouble?”

Landon snorted. “Not today. We just wanna see if Nora can help calm your nightmares down a little.”

“Calm… them down?” Eliseo asked. He tilted his head back against Miguel’s chest. “Get rid of?”

“No, mijo. I wish we could get rid of them, but we can’t. But, uh, but Nora, here… Well, she thinks she can help make them happen less often.”

“Less is good.” Eliseo looked at Nora again. “How?”

“I’d like to touch your hand or your arm. It helps me figure out where the nightmares are coming from, and once I know that, I can figure out how to slow them down.”

Eliseo rolled up the sleeve of his pajama shirt and stuck out his arm. “Okay.”

Nora smiled. “Thank you.” She grabbed Eliseo’s forearm, her brow furrowing almost instantly. She grabbed his hand instead, clasping it between both of her own. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against her hands.

When she finally released Eliseo’s hand, she looked almost angry. “Landon, see me in the kitchen, please.”

“What?”

“Now,” Nora said as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Now I’m in trouble,” Landon whispered to Eliseo before standing up. He squeezed Miguel’s shoulder. “Everything’s okay. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

Miguel forced himself to nod.

Nathan cleared his throat. “I have some coloring books over here if you’re interested, Eliseo.”

“Any lambs?” Eliseo asked.

Nathan leaned forward and sorted through the small stack of books on the coffee table. “Here we go. This one’s all farm animals.”

“Thank you!” Eliseo jumped off Miguel’s lap and grabbed the coloring book. He sat down beside the basket of crayons on the floor and rifled through the pages in search of a lamb to color.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Miguel asked.

Nathan shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not that kind of psychic. I’m more of a… creation and destruction sensor.”

“What does that mean?”

He lifted his shoulders, eyes shifting to Eliseo for a moment. “When something is born–human or otherwise–I can sense it. If something dies, I can sense it. It’s a fleeting feeling, and it thankfully only comes through to me if I’m in close enough proximity to the things birth or death. I, uh… can also look at a picture and sense if that person is dead or alive. I learned not too long ago that I can even feel out those that have been buried.”

“Like a cadaver dog?” Miguel asked.

Nathan chuckled. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“No… nightmares?”

Nathan shook his head. “Not often. I don’t believe the nightmares I do have are anything more than my own. Every person that’s like us is… different. Different abilities, different strengths. There’s one in L.A. that can figure out just about everything there is to know about you just by touching your hand. There’s one locked up in prison there too, doesn’t even know he’s one. Nora knows he’s pretty good at picking up on a person’s habits or routine by touching them, but the spirit that’s attached itself to him blocks her pretty good from finding out anything else.”

Miguel scrubbed a hand over his mouth, looking over at the kitchen doorway. “How, uh, how does Nora know he’s a psychic if he doesn’t know?”

“You’d be surprised at how many people don’t know they’re sensitive to some degree. Nora can more or less sense psychics. Where they are, who they are, what they can do. But this one, the ghost that’s attached to him has convinced him they were connected at birth. He was young when he heard that story, and it has unfortunately stuck.” Nathan cleared his throat, leaning forward to look at the kitchen. “I’m gonna see what’s going on, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, Miguel. Back in a few.”

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Chapter Five

Chapter Seven

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No updates this week

Hey, guys.

I’m currently trying to get through to my vet to take Willie and Selene in today, one for a check-up for his heart and fluid retention, and the other for an urgent medical issue. Unless I get some super great news today, I’m not planning on updating this week. Depending on how today goes, it might be a little while, but I’ll do my best to keep you posted, either here or on my other social media.

Thank you for your patience, and I hope like hell things go so well today that I post a chapter. But I don’t see that happening. So I’ll see you guys… soon.

Hashtags & Homicide – Chapter Eleven

A/N: Belated Wednesday update. Sorry this one took so long to get out to you guys! This chapter just took forever to write for little reason outside of personal issues, lol. Enjoy!

NOT EDITED

Theodore hated that finding Russell’s scars had made him so quick to judge, so quick to assume Russell was an active addict. He hated how finding them had made him feel, how betrayed they had made him feel. Russell’s addiction, regardless of its time frame, wasn’t about him, no matter what Russell said.

He pulled his feet up onto the couch and leaned into Russell’s side, head falling to his shoulder. He had invited the detective over for supper as an apology for jumping to conclusions, for not asking him as soon as he saw them, for calling him a drug addict. Of course, he hadn’t told Russell it was an apology. Russell would have only smiled and told him an apology wasn’t necessary, and Theodore couldn’t help but believe that was bullshit.

Russell wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you,” he whispered.

Theodore couldn’t help but smile. He really did love hearing those three words falling from Russell’s lips. They had never sounded anywhere near as sweet as they did coming from Russell. “Someday, I’ll be able to say that back to you.”

Russell chuckled softly. “Take your time. I’ve got all the time and patience in the world, Teddy.”

Theodore glanced over at the television, where Vera was watching her favorite Minecraft YouTuber build a ship of some sort. The guy was incredibly family-friendly, so Theodore didn’t mind her preference for his videos over most shows aimed at kids her age. Of the ‘kid’s content’ available on the platform, she certainly could have chosen someone far worse to enjoy.

“Vera goes back to school on Wednesday. We can start looking at therapists or psychologist or… whatever after that. If that’s okay with you?” Theodore asked.

Russell nodded. “Yeah, should be. We can meet up on our lunch breaks and start researching the ones around here. We can narrow them down based on whatever criteria you’d like to.”

“Based on criteria?” Theodore asked.

“Of course. Male or female, location, specialities, interests… We’ll choose a therapist that you’re the most comfortable with, Teddy. You won’t get anywhere if you’re scared or nervous around them.”

“I don’t know how you manage to be so level-headed with all this, but I appreciate it. It… it means the world to me, Russell.”

Russell smiled. “I know what it’s like to be someone’s punching bag for years, andd I know what it’s like to need help afterward. You’ve got yourself an experienced man, Teddy.” Theodore raised a brow. “Hey, mind outta the gutter. I’m experienced in the way that matters.”

“Therapy?”

“Bingo.”

Theodore snorted. “Well, I’m glad to have you, then.”

“Me too.”

Theodore shifted, laying the side of his head on Russell’s shoulder again. He reached out, gently skimming three fingers up Russell’s forearm. “When you went to therapy after… this, was it just for work?”

“Mostly,” Russell said after a moment. “I, uh, I was on the job for… a while before I was able to give up the drugs.”

“Jesus,” Theodore whispered. He pulled away from him so he could look the man in the eyes. “You were…?”

Russell nodded, gaze shifting over to Vera for a moment. “I shot up for almost a year after they let me get back to work, after I had ‘passed’ my mental health evaluation.”

“Did they know?”

“Not until I did it in the wrong place and got caught.” Russell cleared his throat, his free hand moving up to his throat. “I, uh… would like not to talk about this anymore today, if that’s all right.”

“God, of course. I’m sorry.”

Russell shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s good to talk about it. It’s good for you to know. I just…” Again, he shook his head. “It’s still an unfortunately recent scar in comparison to everything else, you know? I’m not as philosophical about this just yet.”

“Of course, Rusty. That makes sense. We can just cuddle and watch Minecraft. Deal?”

One corner of Russell’s mouth lifted. “Sounds absolutely perfect.”

***

Russell had ended up spending the night again, which wasn’t really out of the ordinary. Sunday nights were one of the more regular nights they spent with each other, and Theodore usually caught a ride with Russell on the way to work.

By the time Theodore awoke, Russell was already in the shower. It didn’t happen often, but it always managed to surprise him. When he had been married, any movement Shane made beside him immediately woke him up and threw his system into overdrive. But with Russell, on occasion, he managed to simply… sleep through it. He still couldn’t believe it.

Theodore barely managed to finish feeding the fish before Russell came out of the bathroom, dress pants pulled up and unbuttoned, his undone belt hanging from the loops on either side. “Good morning.”

Russell smiled, but it was a little duller than usual. “Good morning. Sleep okay?”

“Not too bad, considering. Still… recovering from the kitchen trigger, umm, issue.”

The detective nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Always takes me a while to fully come back from them.”

Theodore nodded as he tucked the fish food away beneath the table. A hand wrapped around his cane, he rose back to his feet. “How did you sleep?”

Russell scratched the side of his head before walking over to his overnight bag. “Okay.”

“I don’t know as much about your tells as I want to, but… I do know you’re lying to me. Should I be worried, or do you just not want me to know you had a shitty night?”

Russell dug through his bag as he said, “I don’t want you to think me not sleeping well is your fault.”

“Was it… heroin-related?”

He blew out a long breath and leaned back on his heels, white button-up in hand. “I don’t know, Teddy. I don’t remember much of what kept me up. Only really remember small bits and pieces. Most of what I remember was shit about Dad.” A pause. “About my father. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. They usually pick up at the beginning of January and fade out again in a week or so.”

“Do you know why?” Theodore asked.

“Yeah.”

“Do… you wanna talk about it?”

Russell stayed silent as he shrugged his shirt over his shoulders. “He was always gone at the end of December. Supposedly for business shit, but I always doubted that. Still do. He’d come back right at the beginning of January with a vengeance, make up for lost time, I guess.” He finished buttoning his shirt and pulled his tie from the bag. “I normally try to sleep through them, but I just stayed up after the second one. I didn’t wanna risk shouting or tossing too much, waking up you or Vera. I’ll probably stay at my place until it’s over. I can function on very little sleep, but I’m a bit testy when it’s because of nightmares.”

“I get it. I get that way too.” Theodore sat down on the edge of the bed, unwilling to risk infiltrating Russell’s personal space. “If you don’t want to come over because it worries you, I understand. I’m not going to push you on it. I already know you wouldn’t push me if the roles were reversed here.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Russell stood up, draping his tie around his neck. He walked over to the bed and leaned down to kiss Theodore. He let out a soft sound, lifting his hands to either end of Russell’s tie. Russell pulled back only enough to break the kiss. “I’ll come over for suppers and meet you for lunches, but I don’t feel comfortable sleeping here. Or… I know I would be able to sleep while I’m worried about waking you guys up at every hour of the night.”

Theodore nodded. “Of course. Just… just trying to take a page out of your book, Rusty.”

A little smile tugged at one corner of Russell’s mouth. “Well, you’re doing great.”

“Thank you.” Theodore smoothed his hands over Russell’s tie before working to tie it. “You take whatever time you need, Russ. Text me when you’re okay to. Call me when you’re okay to. Visit me when you’re okay to. I don’t want you pushing yourself for me.”

“Thank you. Again.” Russell pressed a kiss to Theodore’s forehead as he finished with his tie. “And thank you for that too.”

“You’re welcome. Or, no problem.” Theodore smiled. “Another page outta your book.”

“I love it. And I love you.”

Heat rose to Theodore’s cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Russell only smiled. “Bathroom’s all yours. I’ll be in the kitchen observing the options in the fridge. I promise I won’t touch any pans without my supervisor present.”

Theodore laughed. “Sounds good. I’ll be out in a few.”

***

Making breakfast with Russell had been easy, like it always was. Most things were easy with Russell. In comparison to how things had been with Shane, anyway. Compared to how things had been with other people before Shane, everything with Russell was like a challenge, like a hurdle he had to jump over every single time he came to it, no matter how many times they’d done the thing–like making breakfast together–before.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d have to be together before that went away. Based on how Russell talked about his own past, Theodore wasn’t sure it ever would be fully okay. He still hadn’t quite figured out he felt about that realization.

Theodore lifted his head as Russell stopped the car and shifted into park. He looked out at his parents’ house, clearing his throat. “Are you all right to head up by yourself, baby girl? Or do you want me to come with?” Theodore asked, leaning over to meet Vera’s gaze in the rear view mirror.

“I can do it. But don’t leave until I’m inside,” Vera said.

“Would never dream of it, sweetheart,” Russell said.

Vera smiled, looking down as she unbuckled her car seat. “I’ll see you tonight, Russ?”

“Yep. I’ll pick you and your Daddy up and drop you both off at home before I head over to my friend’s place.”

“Okie dokie. Love you, Daddy.”

Theodore reached back and squeezed her hand. “Love you too, baby girl.”

Vera cllimbed out of the car and ran up to the house. She knocked, and it wasn’t long before Theodore’s dad opened the door. After waving their goodbyes, Russell backed out of the driveway.

“So you won’t be home alone tonight?” Theodore asked.

“I haven’t decided yet. I just don’t want Vera to think I’m gonna starve tonight if I don’t come over to your place,” Russell said.

“I’m sorry I told her you don’t eat much when you’re not with us.”

“Pfft, no need to be. I’ve told you both that too. I just don’t want her worrying about me, is all. You’ve both been through too much to worry about me.”

“One could say the same about you, Rusty.”

Russell offered a soft smile. “Yeah, one probably could. Guess we both just like caring, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Russell reached over the center console and grabbed Theodore’s hand. He gave it a little squeeze before holding it on the console. “I’ll go over to Andy and Emey’s place tonight. They worry about me too much too, especially since I worked Vince’s homicide. They invite me over all the time, so… maybe I’ll finally go, give ‘em some peace of mind.”

“I like that idea. I feel better knowing you won’t be alone all night,” Theodore said.

“Me too,” Russell said quietly. “You and Vera gonna be okay tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ll be okay, I promise. We both love having you at the house–maybe a little too much–but we can still manage on our own. You just worry about taking care of yourself tonight.”

Russell lifted Theodore’s hand long enough to press a kiss to the back of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Teddy.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have had to explain your addictive past to someone throwing shit at you.”

“You weren’t throwing shit. You’re a father and a man recovering from an abusive relationship with a coke addict. You had and have every reason to be concerned about me hiding it from you.” Russell cleared his throat. “I would’ve had to explain it to you eventually. I planned to, and I wasn’t expecting it to be all rainbows and sunshine. I expected pushback. I expected doubt.”

“Really?”

Russell nodded. “Really. People are scared of addiction, even people who don’t know a single person who’s ever been addicted. And I can understand that. Addiction is scary. It’s terrifying. That shit runs in my veins, and it always will, even if I had never tasted alcohol or smoked pot or shot up. It’s scary, and people usually don’t know how to react. Figuring that part out is… difficult, and I try not to fault people for that, just like I hope people will do for me.”

“If you put understanding vibes out into the universe, the universe will give them back,” Theodore said.

Russell squeezed his hand. “Exactly. That’s how I try to live with it, anyway. If I try my best to understand people’s reactions when they find out–the quiet ones, the loud ones, the awkward ones–then I hope people will try to understand why it happened and that I’m not that person anymore.” He smiled at Theodore. “Like you did.”

“I’m glad I did. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I’d thrown you away for your past. If you hadn’t known me from the case and the hospital, when you found out I was recovering from an abusive marriage, I wouldn’t have wanted you to throw me away. It’s only fair I do the same for you.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

Theodore couldn’t help but smile. “I hope you know how sweet you are, Russell.”

He chuckled, though it missed just a bit of his usual charm. “I think I’ve been told a time or two.” He gave Theodore’s hand another squeeze. “I’m gonna play today out by ear, if that’s all right. If I’m feeling like me by lunch time, I’ll text you and bring food. If I’m feeling… off, I’ll text you and let you know. Okay?”

Theodore nodded. “Of course. Take care of yourself and do what you need to do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. How can you take care of everyone else if you ignore your own needs?”

After a moment, Russell nodded. “That’s probably the most effective way anyone has ever gotten that message across to me.”

“It still makes me a little nervous to admit, but I do pay attention to the things you consider most important. Family and taking care of that family are very, very important to you. And you… you have to take care of you if you want to take care of them.”

“Thank you, Theo. For… understanding.”

“No problem, Russ.”

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Chapter Ten

Chapter Twelve

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S. Carved – Chapter Nineteen

NOT EDITED

Chapter Nineteen

Dallas couldn’t believe it. It had been almost two hours, and he still couldn’t believe it.

Me, neither, Tex. Can’t believe you talked that girl into killing herself.

Fuck you. I didn’t talk her into anything.

Ed chuckled. Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling.

Dallas bit back a growl, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He had already handed his blood-spattered shirt and jacket over to forensics and changed into a clean set. Now, he sat down in the lab with Bo, writing up his report of the incident.

He glanced up at Bo, who sat on the floor rather than at the table or counter. He had been quiet. He hadn’t spoken a word since, ‘Don’t touch her. They’ll need pictures’.

Man, if only we’d known sooner how to shut him up so quickly, huh? Ed asked.

Dallas rolled his eyes rather than responding. He’d had enough of Ed’s bullshit that day, even more so now.

“Bo?”

Dallas turned to the doorway at the same time Bo scrambled to his feet. Bo hurried across the room and wrapped his arms around the black man in the doorway.

“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re okay. Your picture was all over the news with reports of a suicide or a shooting, and I…”

“I’m okay.”

“I know, Squirt. Thank God.” The man rested his chin on top of Bo’s head. “Your mom’s been texting me from work, worried sick. I’ll let her and let her know you’re safe. Proven with my own eyes and everything.”

Bo chuckled. “Okay. Thank you.” He took a step back, tucking his hands behind his back. “Dad, this is the rookie homicide cop I’m babysitting. Dallas, this is my dad.”

The man lifted a hand. “Denzel. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Dallas smiled. “Wasn’t expecting to meet the guy that raised this genius so soon. Was hoping to charm Bo into a supper invitation or something.”

Denzel laughed. “Good luck with that.” He reached out and smoothed a hand over Bo’s hair. “You want something? Blatantly ask him for it. He’ll give you a yes or no, but he prefers direct questions.”

Bo offered a smile. “I’m sure my mom would love to have me over tonight so she can also confirm my state of liveliness. If you’d like to join us, she never minds another person at the table,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, he’s sure. He wouldn’t offer if he wasn’t,” Denzel assured. “I’ll have your mom text you, okay?”

Bo nodded. “Okay. And… thank you for checking in on me. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Squirt. Stay safe, okay?”

“I will. You too.”

“Of course.” After the man left, Bo retreated to his spot at the table rather than the floor.

“So… your dad’s pretty cool,” Dallas said.

Wow. Hard-hitting, emotional stuff, Tex. Great connection there. Really.

“He is,” Bo agreed after a moment. “I lucked out with the Austens.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t believe there are many people who would have put up with me, especially as their child.”

The quietness of Bo’s voice was more than enough to let Dallas know he didn’t want to discuss his adopted parents any further. “So, case-wise. Why the hell did she shoot herself?”

“Are you done with your report?”

“Yeah. Still need to hand it in, but it’s written.”

Bo nodded. “Well, why does anyone kill themselves? There are a number of reasons, some more common than others. Mental illness, accidental, they feel as though they have no other option, silence… There are many reasons. One could assume her reason, but that’s all it will ever be.”

“Because she’s not alive to confirm the reason for us,” Dallas said quietly.

“Yes, exactly. It will always be an assumption, but in this case, I would… be willing to say that assumption will be necessary.”

Dallas raised a brow. “Are you saying you’re going to bounce ideas off of me?”

Bo offered a smile, shaking his head. “No, but I’m willing to let you bounce ideas off of me.”

“Will you respond to them with more than a ‘maybe’?”

“Yes. I’ll do my best to.”

“That’s good enough for me. You know those suicide cults? Do you think there’s a possibility this is one of them?” Dallas asked.

“I think… it’s unlikely their intention is to commit suicide together as some kind of message. Let’s call the ones who supposedly eat the organs ‘the elders’. The elders of this cult have gone through far too much trouble to end their own lives, and intentionally sacrificing the life of a young person who has yet to provide a strong and healthy organ for them seems unlikely to me.”

Call me whatever you’d like, but he makes a good point.

I usually stick with calling you an asshole.

Ed laughed.

“You make a good point on that one, Austen. Do we know if she had any cuts or scars on her? If they were… preparing her for something?”

Bo offered a shrug. “Because we were there for the shooting, I haven’t been involved in any of the examinations of the body. Once both of our reports are marked off, we’ll be allowed to return to the scene and exam the house, and we’ll be able to look at the body.”

“And if not?”

“Then I imagine the case will be assigned to someone else, and it won’t be our problem any longer,” Bo said. “But for Burke’s sake, she might want to hope that our reports are approved and we’re both signed off as good to go.”

“Why’s that?”

“Questions will be asked as to why we were there and not her and her partner.”

“I… almost hope we don’t get signed off.”

Bo chuckled, but it was quiet. Hell, if Dallas hadn’t been paying attention, he probably would have missed it. “It unfortunately wouldn’t do much. At most, she won’t get her next promotion as quickly as she had hoped for.”

Dallas shook his head. He wanted to push Bo further on the subject of Tessa Burke, but he knew better. He didn’t need to earn Bo’s distrust again, not when he was slowly closing in on actual trust. “I don’t know how you put up with her.”

“I just try to keep my head down. Outside of that, I love my job, and I won’t let her take that from me.”

So he has SOME fight in him. I’m not sure if that increases or decreases my desire to choke the life right out of him.

Dallas cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the flash of his hands around Bo’s throat in his mind. It wasn’t often Ed sent him little bits of imagery of what he wanted to do, but when he did, it was difficult to simply pretend it wasn’t there.

But he’d do what he could to accomplish just that.

“I’m actually pretty proud of you for that kind of ambition. It can’t be easy.”

“I don’t want to talk about Burke. We’ve discussed this.”

“I don’t mean because of her. I mean after all the shit you’ve been through. Bullying, abuse, already having this job taken from you a couple times. That has to eat away at your ambition.”

“Oh.” After a moment, Bo nodded. “It does, a little bit. But if keeping my job requires pushing harder for what ambition I have left to do the work, so be it.”

“Yeah, definitely proud of you.”

Bo smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dallas turned around in his chair, crossing his good arm over the back of it. “Think she did it so we couldn’t bring her in an pull information from her?”

“It’s… certainly a possibility.”

“So you think that one’s, like, logical?”

“I think if the elders of this cult want to eat the organs of young people, they aren’t going to risk that information getting out to the police. It wouldn’t surprise me if the other members have been told to avoid police at all costs. And if you can’t avoid them, well…” Bo closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. “Then I suppose we know what one’s only other option might be.”

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A/N: I’ll make an official blog post about it later today after I’ve slept, but I’m going to start setting view goals for every month, trying to make each month a little higher than the last. This month, we’re aiming for 8K views in the entire month (a little under 260 views a day). Views from any and all pages and posts on my website count toward this goal, not just Symbolically Carved. The exciting part? If we can reach 8K, I’ll be posting a short story of the day Ed talked Dallas into finally letting him kill his dad.

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Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Twenty

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Christmas Cannibal – Chapter Five

NOT EDITED

After informing Eddie’s parents about his death, Miguel had stayed in his cruiser in the parking lot for nearly an hour to cry, gain control of himself, and cry. Informing the family of a homicide was never easy, but tacking on that the victim was a three-year-old, that Miguel knew him and his parents, that he was Eliseo’s best friend–Well, that made it harder.

Once he had been able to keep control of his emotions for more than a few seconds, Miguel had gone inside to focus on paperwork, and he had stayed at the station until almost six that evening. Landon had texted him just before five to let him know his sister was willing to see Eliseo that night. Miguel had prolonged it for as long as he could, but even the detectives on shift that day had already cleared out of the station. There was no need for him to sit around and pull for overtime that hadn’t even existed for months.

With a sigh, he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He snagged his coat from the back of the chair and rolled it under his desk. Shoving his arms through the sleeves, he made his way down to the lab.

Jamal stood outside the door, head tilted back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “How can I help you, Detective?”

Miguel glanced up at his face just to make sure he wasn’t crazy. Nope. The man’s eyes were still closed. God, maybe he was a psychic too.

Well… there was no harm in asking. “What are you, some kind of psychic?”

Jamal chuckled. “No. Sometimes, I wish I was. Imagine the solve rate my department would hold,” he said. “I’m good with footsteps, is all. You walk with a relatively distinct heaviness on your right leg.”

“College football injury.”

“Aha.” Jamal opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Miguel. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just coming down to let Bo know I was heading out for the evening.”

Jamal nodded. “I’ll let him know. He’ll have a report on your desk tomorrow, I assure you.”

“Thank you for sending him out for this. And, uh, thank him again for agreeing to it.”

“I will, and my pleasure.” Jamal nodded toward the stairs. “Go on home, Detective. Bo has your number. If anything comes up that can’t wait until tomorrow, he’ll call you. Until then, go spend the rest of the night with your boy. You’re all he’s got.”

“Yeah,” Miguel whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand in departure as he turned back toward the stairs. It was still hard to wrap his head around just how true that statement was. He was all Eliseo had left. His mom was gone, his grandparents were gone–his maternal grandparents had more or less severed ties after the divorce. He had no siblings, one of his friends had been murdered, and he was a fucking psychic.

Jesus, what the hell was he going to do?

***

Miguel let Landon drive to his sister’s house. It was odd and uncomfortable sitting in the passenger seat, but he made due. All that mattered was getting Eliseo to this woman so they could figure out how best to manage his… powers?

Miguel turned toward Landon. “What do you call them?”

“Call what?”

“The psychic thing. Powers?”

“Ah. Depends on the psychic, I guess. My sister, she prefers ‘abilities’. She says a lot of adults do. Kid psychics tend to like the idea that they have some kind of cool superpower, but she says that can be dangerous.”

Miguel shifted to look back at Eliseo. The boy was sound asleep in his carseat, his stuffed lamb held to his chest. Miguel still remembered buying it for him. It had been one of the only toys in the hospital’s gift shop that wasn’t blue or pink, and it had been the cutest stuffed toy there. It had been an expensive first toy, but Eliseo had loved it from day one.

“Why is it dangerous?” Miguel finally asked.

“Kids associate superpowers with the ones their favorite superheroes have. Nora–my sister–knows of at least one kid psychic who, umm… thought he could fly after his parents told him what he could do were like superpowers. He managed to survive, but it hasn’t been an easy life.”

“Christ,” Miguel whispered. He turned back around in his seat, clasping his hands between his thighs. “What’s something good you can tell me about all this? About these abilities? Does any good come from them? Or is my boy going to live with nightmares his whole damn life with nothing positive to come by?”

“I think good things can come from them. My sister and I didn’t really have it easy growing up. Our dad was in a coma from a car accident for years, and our mom passed away within the first four days after said accident. Our grandparents raised us for a while, and then my sister took care of both of us. Our grandparents, they didn’t understand the psychic thing. They always thought it was bullshit, some crazy story our dad fed our mom to get her to ‘run away’ with him.” Landon shrugged. “They loved us, but they didn’t understand us, you know? That lack of understanding can really mess a kid up.”

Miguel closed his eyes. “What if I can’t grow to understand it? I mean, is it even possible to understand it if I’m not like him?”

“Yes. Think of it like any familiar condition a person can have. Anxiety, let’s say. You can understand what that person might be going through. You can understand the coping mechanisms they may have. Sure, you don’t know exactly how they’re feeling or exactly how bad their anxiety is. You don’t know which is their best shot at coming down from a panic attack unless they share it with you. But you can still understand the concepts, and it makes you… tolerant. Kind. Caring. That’s what he needs. Someone understanding, even if they haven’t experienced it themselves.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Miguel cleared his throat. “How much longer until we get to your sister’s place?”

“Not too much further now. We’re about ten minutes away.”

“All right.” Miguel tilted his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this, Landon. I don’t know what I’d do without you when it comes to this.”

Landon remained silent for a long moment. “You’re welcome. I just want the best for Eliseo. He’s a good kid, and he shouldn’t have to suffer through life just because he’s a little different.”

“He can see the future in his nightmares.”

“Yeah, like I said, a little different.”

Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess that’s technically true.”

“I’m excellent at technicallies.”

“They’re appreciated, especially after the day I had.”

“God, I can imagine. I don’t know how you do it, Miguel. They talked about it on the news. No pictures, of course, but they talked about it. I-I can’t even imagine what it was like to walk in there and see that poor kid firsthand.”

“Wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure,” Miguel said quietly. “But you learn to manage the way it makes you feel. You learn that you gotta be there if you want to find the monster that did this to a child.” He opened his eyes. “Speaking of.”

“Yeah?”

“You said that… monsters are real.”

“Yeah.”

“Does that mean this Father Whipper thing really could have killed this boy?” Miguel asked.

Landon cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Anything’s possible. These things hide their true selves in the shadows to keep the, uh, ‘normal’ population blissfully unaware of them. It allows them to hunt and feed without much interference. But that doesn’t mean they’re the only monsters out there, and it doesn’t mean an actual Father Whipper is the only thing that could present himself as Father Whipper to your son.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it could be anything. Anything can present itself as something else, especially in dreams. It could be a Demon or a ghost. It could be a Vampire or a Shapeshifter. Hell, it could be a regular old human with a fascination for cannibalistic lore.”

“So even if monsters are real, this could still have been done by a human?” Miguel asked.

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”

He let out a harsh breath. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Landon shook his head. “Welcome to the club.”

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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S. Carved – Chapter Eighteen

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this yesterday, but my sleep schedule is sort of controlled by my exhaustion right now. Anyway, here you go!!

NOT EDITED

Chapter Eighteen

“So, they probably eat people,” Dallas said as he slid into the cruiser.

“Technically, they probably eat the organs of people.”

Oh, my fucking God, Ed groaned.

“Is there a difference?” Dallas asked.

“Of course. Which part of the cow do you eat before you say you’ve eaten cow?” Bo asked.

Dallas cocked his head to the side before nodding. “Okay, that’s fair. I’ll side with you on that one.”

I’ll fucking kill you both.

Control yourself. You’re already getting your fucking hands on a victim tonight. That’s all you get.

Whatever.

Dallas cleared his throat. “So if these people really do eat the organs of their younger members, and if those members agreed to this, what the hell can we do?”

“Cults are complicated, especially in the sense of the law and the court systems, but killing another human being is still killing another human being,” Bo said. “There are degrees, of course, but cults of this type don’t really fall into one of them. Regardless of any of that, you can’t convince a child to allow you to kill them and then argue that you had permission. It doesn’t work that way. We continue as we have been. We look for the people who killed this man, who brainwashed him into this. The worst that happens is we never find them. The best is we get them locked forever. Somewhere in the middle is a DA offering them a deal for community service to testify against one of the other members. As long as we avoid the worst, we’ve succeeded.”

“Success does sound like a good idea.”

Bo chuckled softly. “Yes, it often does.”

“Onto the next old best friend?”

The blonde nodded. “Take the first left after you get back onto the road.”

“Will do.”

***

The interview with Freya Thomas had been relatively mundane, though she had confirmed Robert’s third friend, Layla Torress, had been the one who told him about the cult. According to Freya, Layla had tried to talk her into the cult in high school too. Obviously, Layla had only been convincing enough for Robert.

Dallas had a good feeling that was because Robert had been a teenage boy confronted by a pretty girl.

It’s a shame how many pretty girls you robbed us of when you were still in school. Such a fucking prude, Ed said.

Dallas’s jaw clenched as he pulled into Layla’s driveway. His ‘prude’ status back in the day had everything to do with preventing Ed from murdering his classmates, especially the ones Dallas was fond of in any form.

“Ready to head on in, Bo?” Dallas asked.

After a moment, Bo shook his head. “Do you mind giving me a moment?”

“No. What’s up?”

“A moment… alone?” Bo asked, his gaze settled on something off in the distance.

“Not at all. Take your time.” Dallas pulled the keys from the ignition and climbed out of the car. Bo stayed in the passenger seat, face buried in his hands.

Aww, Tex. I think you pushed our poor little freak too far for one day. So many people, so much time out of the basement. Poor little guy.

Ed, I swear to God—

Oh, please. You hardly even believe there’s a God.

I believe there’s a God. I’m just certain he fucking hates me. Leave Bo out of your shit. I will not let you kidnap Spencer tonight. I-I would rather let him kill a girl than let you… satisfy yourself with another kill.

Ed cackled, the sound thundering in Dallas’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowed as he tried to force the noise out. Oh, Dallas. Come on, buddy. We both know you’d never purposely endanger a life just so you could prove a point to me. You’re still too busy clinging to the idea that you’re somehow one of the good guys.

Watch me.

“We have to prepare for the possibility that she may run, given the circumstances,” Bo said as he climbed out of the car. He closed the passenger door quieter than Dallas knew possible and tucked his hands behind his back. “If she does, what would you like me to do?”

“Long as she doesn’t have a weapon? Chase her. Unless I can grab her arm, there’s a good chance I’d need to jump her, and that’s probably not happening.”

Bo nodded. “Not without injuring yourself, yes.”

“You a good runner, Bo?”

Bo offered a small smile. “I would have been a heck of a sprinter if not for the older kids in track.”

“Good. Good that you’re a fine runner, anyway. The other part, well, fuck those kids.”

After a moment, Bo nodded. “Yes. Fuck them.”

Dallas snorted. “Come on. Let’s see if she runs or not.”

“Following you.”

Dallas led the way to the front door, adjusting the strap of his sling as he walked. He hated the way the damn thing rested most of the time, but he was stuck with it for a good long while. He felt like he’d been damned to eternity with it.

“You gonna hang out at the bottom of the stairs?” Dallas asked.

Bo nodded, hands tucked behind his back. “Yes. If she happens to run, I will too. But until then, following you.”

Dallas rolled his eyes, the good corner of his mouth lifting. He knocked on the door.

I hope she runs, Ed said. It’d be HILARIOUS to watch the little blonde try to tackle someone, wouldn’t it? God, I’d love that.

Shut up.

“Pardon?”

Dallas looked back over at Bo. “What?”

“You… you told me to shut up.” Bo offered a smile. “I’m pretty used to and okay with that, but it’s usually when I’m talking.”

Ed cackled. Oh, Tex. You stupid idiot. Oh, God. Gold. I love it.

Dallas shook his head. “Sorry, Bo. N-not to you. I’ve just got, umm… You ever have to tell the little voice in your head to fuck off?”

“Oh.” Bo nodded. “Yes, I can’t blame you there. That voice can be a real monster sometimes.”

I can’t believe you saved that. Kinda disappointed. Wanted you to have to come clean about the whole serial killer in your head thing. Then we would have HAD to kill him. Damn, I would love that.

The door opening saved Dallas from being forced to figure out a response or an adequate apology. “Hello?”

“Hello, Layla. I’m Dallas Silver with the LAPD. I need to ask you a few questions that tie into our current investigation. You knew our victim, Robert Sawyer.”

Layla’s eyes searched Dallas’s face for a moment far too long. “Who?”

“Robert Sawyer. You went to school with him.”

“I went to school with a lot of people.” Her gaze darted over to Bo before settling on Dallas’s face again. “High school isn’t a time I go out of my way to remember. I don’t want to be one of those people who believes those were the best years of their life.”

“He was one of your best friends. I still remember my best friend from high school, and unlike you, I didn’t talk mine into joining a cult. So I think he might stick out in your memory.”

“A cult?”

“We already have multiple accounts of that, Layla. We know it’s true, and we know you talked him into joining the cult. I can’t exactly arrest you for his murder, but I can certainly talk to you about the people who committed it.” Layla pulled a gun from the back of her waistband, and before Dallas could even think about grabbing his own, she held it to her own head and pulled the trigger.

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Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Nineteen

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A Bensen Short – First Valentine’s Day

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! If you haven’t read up through the ending up book five of the Bo Austen series (The White Rose Butcher), it’s suggested you skip this for now to avoid spoilers.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the very first Bensen Valentine’s Day 🙂

NOT EDITED

Tuesday: February 14, 2023

The moonlight shining through the window was minimal, but it was more than enough to give Bo a good look at Jensen’s face. The younger man was sound asleep, his head on Bo’s chest. His expression was calm, peaceful. Bo enjoyed that more than he enjoyed most things nowadays. The calm, the peace. Sometimes, Jensen’s calm and peaceful demeanor wore off on him and gave him the smallest pep in his step for the day. It was something Bo deeply appreciated on those days.

Jensen shifted, fingers tightening around the front of the shirt Bo had thrown on after their shower. “I don’t know,” he whispered. Bo grunted as Jensen scrambled to get away from him. Before he could even attempt to wake the man from his nightmare, Jensen fell off the bed. “Goddamn.”

Bo leaned over the edge of the bed, laying a hand on Jensen’s knee. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Caught myself before I smacked my head.” Jensen cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“Waking you.”

Bo shook his head. “I was already up, Jensen. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He pulled his hand back, holding it out to Jensen instead. “Come on. Get your butt back up here.”

Jensen grabbed Bo’s hand and crawled back into bed. Tucked under the covers again, he laid his head back on Bo’s chest. “Why were you awake? It’s early.”

“You know me. Recently sober or not, I still haven’t exactly evened out my sleep schedule.” Jensen nodded, but he didn’t respond. “Do… you want to talk about what happened?”

“Nah. Just a bad dream.”

Bo chose not to push it. He and Jensen weren’t anything more than friends with benefits, and he didn’t want to risk losing him to a bit too much prying. Jensen was a good man, one who had single-handedly carried him into sobriety, one who had done everything in his control to help Bo through the grief that had swallowed him whole after the death of his girlfriend.

He wouldn’t do something to chase him away, even if only for a few hours.

“Are you tired?” Bo asked.

“No. Are you?”

“Not even a little. Would… you like to come make fudge with me? I have a new caramel swirl recipe I’d like to try out.”

“Gah, would love to.” Jensen pushed himself up on one elbow and leaned down to kiss Bo. “Let’s go make some kick-ass fudge.”

***

Jensen snagged another square of fudge from the plate on his lap and popped it into his mouth. Bo always cut them into bite-sized pieces whenever he planned to share them with Jensen, like he knew how much Jensen loved snacks he didn’t have to take in more than one bite.

Seated on the couch, Jensen sat between Bo’s legs, leaned back against his chest. While Jensen waited for his newest game to finish downloading, Bo was busy dicking around on his phone, free hand occasionally moving over Jensen’s chest.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Bo asked.

Jensen snorted. “What kinda plans would I have that don’t involve this house?”

Bo shrugged. “We both know I wouldn’t tattle on you if you ditched for the night, found someone to have fun with.”

“I have fun with you. I don’t need anyone else for that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Mm.” Bo pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m… rather happy to hear that.”

Jensen couldn’t help the heat that rose to his cheek. He’d had a crush on Bo for a long damn time. Confirmation that Bo felt any kind of attachment to him felt incredible. “Why… do you ask?”

“I just wanted to know if I was making supper for one or for two tonight.”

“I can cook supper. I don’t mind.”

Bo cleared his throat. “I, umm… Jensen, I’m trying to ask you to be my date to a homemade Valentine’s Day dinner.”

“Oh,” Jensen whispered. He tilted his head back against Bo’s chest and reached up to lay a hand on his cheek. “Of course I’ll be your date. I always will be.”

Bo smiled faintly, that little lift of one corner of his mouth Jensen loved. “Thank you.”

“ ‘Course.” Jensen lifted his head, turning just enough to meet Bo halfway for a kiss. “What’s for supper?”

Bo snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Rude.”

Bo patted his chest. “You’ll survive. It’ll be a nice healthy boost for the both of us after we go most of the day without any sleep. Me working, you stalking me through the station.”

Jensen chuckled. “The usual.” He cleared his throat, shifting against Bo. “Umm, speaking of sleep… I’m not keeping you up, am I? You were already awake? Really?”

“I was already awake, I promise. Was thinking about you, actually.”

“Oh, yeah? What about me? How cute and funny and charming I am?”

Bo rolled his eyes, but Jensen didn’t miss the smile on his face. It was faint, but it was definitely there. “Not quite, although I do generally find those statements to be true, as well. I was thinking about how calm and peaceful your expression is while you sleep, how thankful I am that–on occasion–that calmness and peacefulness seep through to me and give me a bit of pep in my step.”

Jensen smiled, turning away before Bo got a good look at him. Bo made him all kinds of flustered and bubbly inside, but the longer he managed to hide that, the longer he and Bo could continue their friends with benefits arrangement. He was certain letting Bo know how he really felt would ruin it, and he wasn’t ready for that. “I’m glad I can help like that, Bo. You deserve that extra pep in your step.”

“Thank you.” Bo grabbed a little fudge square from the plate. “Your game downloaded.”

“You sure you don’t mind me playing by myself?”

“I’m sure. I’m catching up on a few forensic articles I’ve missed.”

“Like what?”

“Development of techniques, developments in on-scene gear… Simple things, but interesting things.”

“Cool. Well, if you get bored, you gotta let me know. Then I’ll switch games and we can, like, kill some zombies together.”

Bo chuckled softly, stirring the ever-present butterflies in Jensen’s stomach. “I’ll keep you posted. Until then, have fun.”

***

After Jensen played his game for a few hours, Bo got up to make breakfast and get ready for work. He made a little plate of scrambled eggs for Acamas and Hati–his cat and dog–and set them on the floor near their food dishes. He carried two plates of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast into the dining room, setting them down as Jensen came into the room.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asked.

Bo shook his head. “Sometimes, living in her house is… difficult.”

“I can imagine. Did something happen?”

“I had to grab a new butter container from the fridge. I found one of her sticky notes in the drawer.” Bo offered a smile, but god, did it hurt. “A reminder to me to restock anything I used all of while baking. She wasn’t much of a baker herself, but I went through quite a bit of sugar and butter and…” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, looking down. “I still can’t believe she’s dead, Jensen. The first woman I ever loved, and she was ripped out from under me like… like she was never there in the first place.”

Jensen rounded the table and laid a tentative hand on Bo’s upper back. “I can’t even imagine how it feels to lose a partner, a-and I hope I never have the experience to imagine it, but I am so sorry you have to suffer this grief, Bo. I wish there was something more I could do to help, t-to make it better, to make it go away.”

“Being able to talk to you about it helps more than you can imagine.”

Jensen wrapped Bo in a hug and pulled him close. Bo closed his eyes, breathing in the bodyguard’s cologne. Jensen had done more to help him through the grief that had enveloped him after his girlfriend’s murder than any one man should be expected to. Hell, he had helped Bo through it more than any one man should be capable of, but Jensen had always been there for him. Assigned as a bodyguard to keep him alive, Jensen had gone above and beyond, and Bo would never be able to find the words to express his gratitude.

He hoped finally working up the balls to ask Jensen to be more than friends with benefits would be the first step of many in expressing it.

Bo stepped away from Jensen. “Thank you for the talk. And the hug.”

Jensen smiled. “My pleasure, Bo.” He brushed a thumb over Bo’s cheek as he leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s get some breakfast in your system, yeah?”

Bo nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

***

Jensen pulled open the back door of the car, free arm tucked behind his back. Bo slid out of the seat, lifting his satchel over his head. “Got everything?”

“Mmhmm.”

Jensen closed the door and locked it before pocketing the keys. He tucked his hands behind his back as he walked with Bo up to the station. In their time as friends with benefits, he had found that busying his hands was about the only way he could guarantee he wouldn’t try to hold Bo’s hand or touch his back. The goal was to never set off any red flags that he had violated the rules and slept with his boss. Bo had agreed it was the right call. It made sure Jamal wouldn’t pull him off Bo’s bodyguard detail and assign him to someone else.

“Jensen?”

Jensen stopped walking. Speak of the devil… He turned toward Jamal. “Yes, sir?”

“I’d like a word.”

Jensen swallowed as Jamal disappeared into his office. “You don’t think he knows, right?”

Bo shook his head. “He couldn’t, I promise. Take a deep breath and keep your head up. You’ll be fine. I’ll be in the lab, okay?”

Jensen nodded. “Yeah. Catch up in a few. Long as he doesn’t kill me.”

Bo snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’ll see you in a few, Jensen. Just play it cool.” He patted Jensen on the arm and headed toward the stairs.

Jensen let out a breath and walked into Jamal’s office. He closed the door, eyes landing on the elderly black man. He stood behind his desk, hands tucked behind his back as he stared out the window. Jamal had been the LAPD’s chief of police for years, still managing to keep the position after rumors of his corruption hit the media and spread like wildfire. The original rumors had been twisted time and time again, like some horrible game of telephone. Only a few were actually true, though they couldn’t be proven as such.

Jamal Pitman worked for the mob, he ran his own army of highly trained bodyguards and assassins, and he used his position as police chief to keep his men and fellow mobsters out of prison.

“How’s Bo?” Jamal asked, still facing the window.

“What do you mean?”

“How is he? How’s his state of mind?”

“Oh. He’s good, sir. Although I do believe living in Miss Decker’s house isn’t serving his mind well.”

“Has he said that?”

“No, not blatantly. This morning, he told me living in her house is sometimes difficult. He found a note she had left for him in the fridge at some point.”

Jamal nodded. He finally turned around and, after a moment, lowered himself into his chair. “I’ve suggested he leave Miss Decker’s home, but he says he isn’t ready for that yet. He still pays her phone bill so he can text her. I suppose the house is another layer of coping.”

“You think it’s a good way to cope?” Jensen asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not known for my excellent coping mechanisms.”

One corner of Jensen’s mouth lifted. “That’s fair.”

Jamal let out a breath. “Is he still sober?”

“Yes. Not a single drop of alcohol in months.”

“Good. Do what you can to keep it that way.”

“Of course, sir.”

Jamal waved a hand toward the door. “That was all. Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

“Of course, sir.” Jensen walked out of Jamal’s office and headed down to the lab. “Hey.”

Bo glanced up at him. “Hello. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. He just wanted a progress update.”

That one garnered Bo’s full attention. “Why?”

“Well… because you’re, umm… my job, Bo.”

“I know that. I wasn’t aware he asked for progress updates.”

“I think it’s more to make sure I’m doing my job than it is to make sure you’re, umm…” Jensen cleared his throat. “I think it’s to make sure I’m not a fuck-up. He just wants to know he assigned the right guy to you. I don’t think it’s about you or ‘progress’ in relation to you. You know?”

Bo nodded. “I suppose you’re right. At the very least, I’ll do my best to believe you are.”

Jensen shoved his hands into his pockets. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

Bo’s shoulders relaxed. “Coffee would be excellent. Thank you.”

Jensen smiled. “ ‘Course. Back in a jiff.”

***

The work day had been long, but it had been relatively easy. There had been no crime scenes for Bo to work, and he had found himself thankful for that. A crime scene usually led to a late night, and he didn’t want a homicide or a robbery getting in the way of supper with Jensen.

While Jensen set the table in the dining room, Bo added the final touches to supper. He laid the thin strips of steak atop the goulash sauce–one of Jensen’s favorite sauces in existence–and carried both plates into the dining room.

“God, that smells amazing,” Jensen said.

“Thank you.” Bo set the dishes down and pulled out Jensen’s chair. “Sit?”

“I thought pulling out chairs was my job.”

Bo smiled. “You’re officially off the clock.”

“I like the sound of that.” Jensen lowered himself into the chair. “Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” Bo pressed a kiss to Jensen’s temple and gave his shoulder a good squeeze. Bo’s heart pounded in his chest, constricting his breathing more than he thought the heart was capable of. He rounded the table and sat down across from Jensen. He took a sip of his pop as Jensen dug in.

“God, Bo, this is amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it. I know how much you like goulash, especially with my mother’s recipe for sauce. When I saw the steak on goulash sauce recipe pop up on my timeline, I knew I could substitute theirs for Mom’s.”

“Well worth it,” Jensen assured.

Bo looked down at his plate, cutting off a small square of steak. “Jensen?”

“Hmm?”

“I was… wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“You’ve been very good to me. As a bodyguard, as a friend, as… as a lover. I can’t even begin to thank you enough for that.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Bo, really. And the bodyguard thing, umm… just doin’ my job. The other too, though. It’s been a pleasure.”

“I’m glad.” Bo looked up at him without lifting his head. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking this a step further. Maybe instead of friends with benefits, we’re… we’re partners with those same benefits. O-or, you know, boyfriends?”

Jensen coughed, lifting a fist to his mouth. “What?”

Bo’s heart skipped a beat. God, how many times did he have to go through this with a man before it worked?

“Did you just ask me out?” Jensen asked.

“Yes?” Bo questioned, his voice small.

“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bo.”

“Oh,” Bo whispered. “Okay.” He stuck a forkful of steak in his mouth, hoping to play it as cool as he could.

“I-I like you, Bo. I really do. I just—”

“It’s okay.” Bo chuckled, shaking his head. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Jensen. My advances have been rejected before. You don’t have anything to explain.” He set his fork down and pushed his chair back. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment?”

Jensen searched his face. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Sit in her room with Acamas and Hati for a moment, ground myself.”

Jensen only nodded.

***

Watching Bo walk away from the table damn near tore Jensen in two. He loved Bo. Loved him. But, Christ, he had never expected Bo to ask for anything more than what they had, especially after the post-it note he’d found from Bridget just that morning.

Jensen pushed his chair back and headed back to Bridget’s bedroom. He hated calling it that. He and Bo slept there together almost every night–though they never had sex in the bedroom–and he still had to refer to it as Bridget’s room. It was one of many reasons Jensen knew Bo wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not a healthy one, anyway.

He knocked on the open door to the room. “You okay?”

From his place on the floor, Bo nodded. He lifted his head, offering a smile. “I admittedly wasn’t expecting a rejection, but I’m fine. I’m sorry if I read into anything too much, Jensen. I really didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just thought this was something you wanted, and I…” He lifted his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I hope we can get past any weirdness this leaves between us.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Jensen walked into the room and sat down beside Bo, Hati between them. “I do want this, Bo. You didn’t read too much into anything.”

“Then… what is it? Is it because I’m technically your boss? Because I can tell Jamal. I can tell him I don’t need a bodyguard anymore.”

“I’ve gotten over that. Got over that pretty much the first time we slept together,” Jensen said.

Bo snorted. After a moment, he leaned to the side, dropping his head to Jensen’s shoulder. “Me too.” A pause. “So what is it? If you’re comfortable telling me.”

Jensen let out a breath. He dropped the back of his head to the bed. “I don’t wanna date you as a rebound.”

“My relationship with… with her has been over for quite some time. It’s been over a year.”

“Her death didn’t end your relationship, Bo. You still love her.”

“Is that what it is? That I still love her?”

“Partially.”

“I’m always going to love her, Jensen. People generally fall out of love with living people because those people age and change and grow, sometimes grow apart. But she isn’t aging or changing or growing. She’s gone, and there’s nothing she can do to make me fall out of love with her.” Bo lifted his head, and Jensen forced himself to meet Bo’s gaze. “But the heart–according to Jake–can love more than one person at a time. I believe that to be true, as well. Especially… since the heart doesn’t love. That would be the brain, and the brain is capable of quite impressive feats.”

Jensen grinned. “I love it when you talk all nerdy to me.” He laid a hand on Bo’s cheek. “If you ever change your mind, even for a moment, and you realize you’re not ready for this, I want you to tell me. I won’t be mad or upset. But I don’t want you breaking yourself to try and make something work when it can’t. Okay?”

“Okay. Deal.”

“Then… yes. I would love to take this to the next step.”

Bo smiled. He leaned up and kissed Jensen. “Thank you for giving me a chance,” he whispered.

Jensen chuckled, closing his eyes as he leaned their foreheads together. “I could say the same to you. You have just become my first boyfriend.”

“If it helps, you’ve just become mine. We’ll figure it out together, just like we’ve figured out everything else in this relationship.”

Well, Jensen liked the sound of that. “Sounds perfect.” He kissed Bo again. “What do you say we go back to the dining room and enjoy that awesome fuckin’ meal you made for us, huh? Before it gets cold.”

Bo smiled. “Okay.”

Jensen rose to his feet and held out his hands. Bo grabbed them, allowing Jensen to pull him to his feet. “Grounded?”

After a moment, Bo nodded. “Yes, grounded. Grounded and very, very happy.” He squeezed Jensen’s hand. “Lead the way.”

***

After supper, while Jensen was on the phone with Jamal, Bo washed dishes. Though her house had a dishwasher, Bo preferred hand washing. It gave him something to do, something to keep his hands from holding a beer. That would always be a good thing.

Jensen came up behind him and wrapped him in a hug. “Hey.”

Bo smiled. “Hello. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. One of his men has picked up some chatter about drawing out Jamal for an attack, and he just wanted me to know. Make sure I keep extra close tabs on you.” Jensen kissed his neck. “Should be pretty easy.”

“Jamal will be okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Has guys working around the clock to make sure of that.”

“Good.” Bo set the last dish in the dish drainer and turned off the water. Drying his hands, he leaned back against Jensen. “Do you happen to have any ideas on how you can keep extra close tabs on me?”

“Got a few.”

Bo tilted his head back as Jensen peppered his neck and shoulder with kisses. “In the hopes you would say yes, I reserved a hotel room for us tonight. Paid in cash, booked it under ‘Eli Taylor’. I’m hoping that eases your concern that Jamal will hunt us down and find out you’re sleeping with the boss.”

“A little. ‘Eli Taylor’ is also… I dunno, but I fuckin’ love what it does to me.”

Bo smiled. “I’m glad. I figured our first Valentine’s Day together deserved a bed. The living room couch had gotten… repetitive.”

“A bed sounds nice.” Jensen slid a hand up to his chest. “We good to go now?”

Bo chuckled. “Yes. I packed a change of clothes for us both so we only have to come back here in the morning to feed the animals before going to work. I asked Mom to let Hati out in a few hours, as well.”

“All kinds of prepared, huh?”

“I tried to be.”

“You did good,” Jensen whispered. He kissed a spot beneath his ear. “Let’s get that change of clothes and get our asses to the hotel.”

Bo rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

***

Jensen followed Bo up to the reception desk, keeping his head bowed just a little. Despite Bo’s efforts, he couldn’t fight his paranoia. If there were cameras, he didn’t want them to get a good angle on his face.

“How can I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked.

“Hello. Reservation for Eli Taylor?” Bo asked.

God, hearing his own last name paired with Bo’s middle name was a wonderful thing. It practically affirmed the fantasy in his head, the one where he had already planned out a wedding with Bo an unreasonable number of times.

“Of course, sir. Room two-sixteen. Here’s your card.”

Bo grabbed the card and smiled. “Thank you.” He stepped away from the desk and held out his free hand. “Come on, darling.”

Jensen grabbed his hand and followed him to the elevator. Bo pressed the call button. “Darling?”

“I didn’t want to set off your worry by calling you by name.”

It warmed Jensen’s heart to know how much attention Bo had paid to his worries and concerns. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Bo’s thumb moved over Jensen’s knuckles, caressing them without hesitation. “What we do is up to you. Lover’s choice and all that.”

“Like… I can choose anything?”

“Within reason, but yes.”

“I’d like you to top.”

“Shh. Jesus, not in public.”

Jensen smiled at the flushed color of Bo’s cheeks. “Oh, so you’d like me to wait until we’re in our room, huh?”

“Preferably, you perv.” Bo tugged him into the elevator, pressing the button for the second floor until the doors closed. He pulled down on the sleeve of his shirt, clearing his throat. “I can, but… but not for the whole time.”

“Can you tell me why? You’ve never actually told me why you wanted to stop topping me. Do you hate it?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Can you try?”

Bo let out a breath. “When I was with her, I never experienced… pleasure from, umm… that type of sex.” He stepped out into the hall when the doors opened. Jensen followed Bo to the room. He hoped silence was the right call. Bo didn’t want to discuss anything suggestive or sexual in public, and Jensen was more than capable of adhering to that rule. Once they were in their room, Bo flipped on the light and kicked off his shoes. He tossed the keycard onto the little table by the door and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to, Bo. I don’t wanna push you,” Jensen said. “I’ll top. I like sex no matter how we do it.”

“I want to tell you. I’m just trying to find the best way to.” Bo cleared his throat. “When I was sleeping with women after she died, I always felt this… darkness. I don’t know what that darkness was, but I experienced it every time I topped with you, as well. I-I was worried it would make me too rough, like it almost did the first time we slept together. I was worried it would make me hurt you.”

Jensen laid a hand on Bo’s cheek and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I don’t wanna force you to do something you don’t want to do. But for what it’s worth, the first time, when I asked you to slow down, you did. When I said I needed something other than penetration for a few, you gave that to me. You didn’t say no. You didn’t tell me it didn’t matter. You listened to me. You took care of me. Whatever that darkness is, it’s not gonna hurt me. As long as it doesn’t hurt you, I’ll be okay.”

“It won’t hurt me,” Bo said after a long moment. “But I’d like my Valentine’s Day gift to be you, umm…”

Jensen raised a brow. “Topping?”

Bo’s cheeks flushed. “Yes. At the end.”

“Deal.”

Bo leaned up and kissed Jensen. Jensen groaned, closing his eyes as Bo’s hands fell to the buckle of his belt. He undid the buckle without any issue and moved onto the buttons of his shirt. “Now that we’re dating, I’m taking you shopping for jeans.”

Jensen snorted. “Why’s that?”

“Suits and pajamas being your only two options for clothes is… not ideal. When we’re alone together, you deserve to be able to be comfy without having to change into your PJs.” Bo pulled Jensen’s button-up free from the hem of his dress pants. “We’ll get you some jeans, sweats, t-shirts, maybe a hoodie or two… Whatever you want.”

“Where are we gonna put those?”

“My closet isn’t nearly as full as you seem to think it is. I think we’ll be okay.” Bo tugged at either side of Jensen’s suit jacket. “These go.”

Jensen smiled. “Can do.” He shrugged off his suit jacket and shirt while Bo did the same with his flannel. Jensen loved Bo’s purple flannels the most, but the pink-blue-maroon tri-color one he had on today wasn’t bad either. Truthfully, he liked Bo in just about anything.

Bo sat down on the bed, setting his shirt down beside him.

Jensen’s brow furrowed. “Bo? Everything okay?”

Bo lifted his head, a little smile on his face. “Yes. I just don’t get as… aroused as you do.”

Jensen dropped his belt to the floor and crossed the room to sit down beside the blonde. “What about it?”

“What if there’s something wrong with me?”

“Wrong with you?” Jensen lifted a hand and tucked Bo’s hair back behind his ear. “What would be wrong with you?”

Bo offered a shrug, eyes focused on his hands. “I never felt pleasure from sex with women. I only feel pleasure from sex with men if it’s one of two ways. Even though I find you attractive, I have to think about sex and an erection to make it happen. It doesn’t just occur like it does for you, like it does for everyone. So, like I said, what if there’s something wrong with me?”

“You’re different than me. That doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you, Bo. It just means sex is different for you than it is for me. It’s different for everyone, one way or another.”

“So it’s normal?”

“It’s normal for you. That’s all that matters.”

Bo turned his head to the side and kissed Jensen’s shoulder. “You’re too good to me.”

Jensen bit back the initial response: he was good to Bo because he loved him. Though it was true, he wasn’t willing to scare Bo away with such a declaration. “You deserve it. You deserve someone to be good to you. You’ll always deserve that.” He laid a hand on Bo’s upper back. “We can just lay here and cuddle if you want. That’s more than enough for me. It’s not a good first Valentine’s Day if only one of is happy with the whole sex thing.”

“I don’t want the hotel room to go to waste.”

“It’s not a waste. Getting to cuddle with you is never a waste.”

Bo smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Jensen wrapped an arm around Bo’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Wanna change into our jammies and rent Love Actually?”

Bo chuckled. “Sure, Jensen. Sounds like a plan to me.” He pushed himself to his feet. Laying his hands on Jensen’s freckled cheeks, he offered a little smile. “I’ll make up for it next year.”

“You have absolutely nothing to make up for. Cuddling with you is always gonna be a damn good holiday.” Jensen kissed him. “I’m lookin’ forward to a hotel room, a cheesy movie, and a cuddle session next year.”

Bo’s smile widened. “Me too.”

It was the happiest Jensen had seen Bo in a while. The near joy on his face at being validated, at being understood, was heart-breaking. Jensen didn’t know much about relationships, but he planned on using his with Bo to make sure the man experienced so much validation and understanding that that became his normal.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I don’t want to freak you out, but I do have something for you if you want it. I found it a couple months ago, and it made me think of you, but I… didn’t want to push the bodyguard-only, friends with benefits thing.”

“You have the something with you?”

Bo nodded. “Yeah, it’s in my overnight bag.”

“I-I’d love it.”

Bo smiled. “Okay. Just a sec.” He walked back to the door and squatted down in front of his bag. He came back a moment later, a little box in his hand. He sat down beside Jensen and handed it over.

Jensen dropped his head to Bo’s shoulder. “I unfortunately don’t have anything for you.”

Bo combed his fingers through Jensen’s hair. “That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anything. I was just saving this for when we started dating or when we were just friends, no benefits. I don’t need anything in return.”

Jensen shifted just enough to kiss Bo’s shoulder. He pulled the lid off the box and grabbed the ball inside. He couldn’t help the nerdy, excited gasp that fell from his lips. “Oh, my God, Bo.”

The black and white pokeball in his hand had a clear top. Through it, he could see a little sleeping Pikachu atop a tree stump.

“I know you… like the little yellow guy the most. And there’s a switch on the bottom that turns on some little fairy lights hidden in the flowers and plants in there. Since… you don’t really like the dark, I thought it could be like a nightlight.”

“You are so damn sweet,” Jensen whispered. Pokeball clutched in one hand, he turned and wrapped his arms around Bo. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Bo hugged him back. “Did I do okay?”

Jensen laughed, giving him a tight squeeze. “You did fucking perfect.” He pulled back, set the pokeball in his lap, and moved his hands to Bo’s face. “You are amazing. Thank you.”

Bo smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Love it,” Jensen whispered. He leaned forward and kissed Bo before leaning their foreheads together. “Valentine’s Day tradition. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“You, me, a hotel room, small gift exchange, jammies, cuddles, cheesy movie, and pie.”

Bo chuckled, nodding against Jensen’s forehead. “Deal. I already love it.”

“Then let’s move onto the jammies part.” Jensen pulled away, hands still on Bo’s face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Eli.”

The smile came back to Bo’s face, cheeks flushing. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jensen.”

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Christmas Cannibal – Chapter Four

NOT EDITED

Miguel took a sip of his coffee before pushing open the door to the interrogation room. The man seated at the steel table lifted his head. “Morning, sir,” Miguel greeted.

“Morning,” the man said quietly. “I-I can’t believe what happened at my shop.”

“I can imagine. It’s hard to think about a homicide in your town in general. Thinking about one in a place you own is even worse.” Miguel set his coffee cup on the table and pulled a chair out across from the man. “What’s your name?”

“Jordy. Umm, Jordan.”

“Jordan,” Miguel echoed. “I’m Detective Pareja. I just have a few questions, and then you’re free to go for the day. We might need to bring you back in for questioning throughout the duration of this case, but that doesn’t mean much. I don’t want you to panic about it or worry about it. We want this closed as soon as it can be, get some justice for this victim, get some closure for the family, and get your shop back open. Sound good?”

Jordan nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”

***

The interview with Jordan hadn’t given Miguel much to go off of. No one else had keys to get into the shop, and all of the doors were locked every night as the man closed the shop before heading home. He had two cameras in his butcher shop, but both were in the main area of the building, not in the actual butchering part.

Miguel hated that he considered himself thankful for that, but when it came right down to it, watching that kind of footage in hopes of catching a glimpse of the killer sounded like the kind of thing that would drive a cop into–at the very least–alcoholism.

After refilling his coffee for what felt like the millionth time, Miguel headed back to the butcher shop to meet up with the forensic analyst from Los Angeles. He waited in his cruiser for just under half an hour before a black car pulled into one of the parking spaces at the front of the shop. Jamal Pitman slid out of the back of the car, and a moment later, a short blonde followed. Jamal closed the door and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket.

Miguel couldn’t believe it. Pitman was, by far, Los Angeles’s most daunting figure–a police chief accused for years of corruption but still in the position of power. A police chief rumored to have a hand in mobs, cartels, and gangs throughout the United States. A police chief with more power hidden in the snap of his fingers than most people could gather in their whole body in an entire lifetime.

And he had showed up to Illinois to escort his lab geek to the crime scene.

Miguel climbed out of his cruiser and stuck out a hand once the pair was close. “Detective Miguel Pareja.”

Jamal grabbed his hand. “Jamal Pitman. Pardon his silence, but this is Bo Austen, my forensics guy. If he reads you as polite enough, he might be willing to speak to you, but otherwise, his information will be given through notes, reports, and me. Sound good?”

Miguel nodded. “Whatever it takes to get this boy back to the morgue. The sooner he can be buried respectfully, the better.”

“I’m glad we agree. Where is he?”

“This way.” Miguel led the way into the butcher shop, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape stretched across the broken glass door. “That door there leads to the freezer. It’s pretty bad in there. You’re just about our last hope on this one, Mister Austen.”

Blue eyes focused on the floor, Bo offered an ‘okay’ symbol with his hand and walked to the door. Before Jamal could follow him, Bo came back out and held out a hand.

“You don’t want me in there?” Jamal asked.

Bo shook his head. “Very bad,” he whispered.

“You’re sure?”

Bo only nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Bo disappeared into the room without another word.

Miguel cleared his throat. “Has… your guy always been a selective mute?”

“No. I’m sure you saw what happened in Minnesota. The midwestern states seem to report on each other more often than elsewhere.”

“The homicide?” Miguel asked. “Yeah, I heard bits and pieces.”

Jamal nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you can imagine how difficult watching the murder of your girlfriend is. Healing has been quite the task.”

“Jesus,” Miguel whispered. “Yeah, I can, uh… I can imagine. Can’t believe he’s still willing to work.”

“Sometimes, neither can I. But I can understand it. It gives him something to do. It keeps him sane. Working a murder will always be better than sitting in silence, listening to and rewatching the one in his head,” Jamal said.

“I… Yeah.” Miguel shifted his weight between his feet. “My little boy–I, umm, don’t know how much he saw, and I don’t really know all the details, but I know he was found in the backseat of my ex-wife’s car parked outside of where she was found dead. Don’t know if he saw it. Don’t know if he heard it. But I know he I don’t remember him having nightmares beforehand.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How old is he?”

“Three.”

Jamal nodded. “That’s rough. For him and for you, but you might luck out. If he did see it, he might not remember it. They say the majority of memories we form are implicit until we’re seven or so. That’s what that childhood amnesia thing is. Being unable to recall even important events from your childhood.”

“I pray for that luck every damn night.”

“Can’t blame you there. Two of my children witnessed the death of a parent, and I still hope their luck will turn and they’ll simply forget about it.” Jamal nodded to the freezer doorway. “I wish his luck would turn, too. I pray for that boy to be able to forget what happened in Clinstone every damn day.”

Miguel couldn’t believe it. He was practically having a heart-to-heart with Jamal Pitman.

Jamal. Fucking. Pitman. What kind of crazy person gave Jamal Pitman information on their life?

“I’m going to go check on your analyst. He’ll be okay with that?” Miguel asked.

“Yes, he’ll be fine. He’s pretty used to it.”

“All right. Back in a few.” Miguel shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back to the freezer. Seeing the boy’s body wasn’t any easier the second time, but at least he was prepared for it. That was almost a positive. “Hey. You managing okay?” Miguel asked.

Bo lifted his head. After a moment, he nodded.

“Do you mind telling me if you’ve found anything yet?”

Bo cleared his throat. “He died quickly. His throat was slit. I won’t have measurements until… I get to the morgue, but it appears to be quite deep. I have no doubt it was the first wound, and it would have killed him before the rest of… this began.”

“How long do you think he would have been alive for?”

“Both carotids have been cut. He would have lost consciousness within seconds. His heart stopping would have followed within a minute or so. Knowing he didn’t suffer is something his parents will most likely take comfort in.”

“Yeah,” Miguel whispered. He raked a hand through his hair, taking a step back toward the doorway. “Thank you for being willing to talk to me. Given Pitman’s introduction, I wasn’t so sure.”

“You’re welcome.” A pause as he went back to taking photos. “There was a time where I didn’t speak at all following… the event. I’m still warming up to people again. You’ve made the list because your body language is more relaxed than some of the detectives I have worked with.”

“Well, it’s appreciated. Based on what Pitman said, I don’t blame you for needing to ‘warm up’ to people again. I don’t know that I’d ever be able to again.”

Bo snapped another picture of the boy before lowering his camera. “Eventually, I suppose one has a choice to make. He either warms up to people again, or he lives in isolation. Strangely, I still know which of those I believe I prefer.”

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Chapter Three

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Hashtags & Homicide – Chapter Ten

NOT EDITED

Russell awoke to the vibration of his watch. The nights he spent with Theodore, he muted the loud beeping. On the off chance the man was still asleep, Russell wanted him to stay that way for as long as possible. That morning, unsurprisingly, the other side of Theodore’s bed was empty.

Russell let out a slow breath and pushed himself up on his elbows. The clothes Theodore had laid out over the chair the night before were gone, and the bathroom light was off. He’d already fed the fish and showered, so there was a grand chance he’d been awake for over an hour. Russell looked down at his watch. Six AM. At most, Theodore had gotten three hours of sleep. Since the end of November or so, those three-hour nights were few and far between.

He sat up and raked a hand through his hair. Sleep for Russell had been shitty since Christmas, but that was par for the course. It’d been that way since his undercover days. Theodore’s shift, though… Well, that concerned him.

After pulling a pair of sweatpants on over his boxer briefs, Russell made his way out to the kitchen. Theodore stood in front of the stove, all four burners going. One corner of Russell’s mouth scrunched up. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Theodore.

“Good morning,” Theodore greeted.

“Morning, Teddy.” Russell pressed a kiss to Theodore’s shoulder. “Looks like you’re having a feast in here.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I figured. Wanna talk?”

Theodore turned around, and Russell stepped back. Theodore grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie and jerked it up past his elbow. “What’re these?”

Russell cleared his throat. “How, umm…?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. Your sleeve was rolled up. I noticed them when I went to wake you so we could go to bed.”

“You, umm, you don’t have to worry about them, Theo.”

“Really? Because I’ve watched enough TV to know they’re track marks.”

Russell stepped back until he found the counter. He grabbed the edge of it and gave it a tight squeeze. The pressure against his palm and the burn in his knuckles were bad signs. This wasn’t a dream. Theodore had found out before he had the chance to tell him. “They’re old.”

“How old?” Theodore asked. “I let you into my house, Russell. With my daughter. With my child. I let a drug addict—”

“Recovered,” Russell said through his teeth.

Theodore practically jumped back, hitting the dials for the stove. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Russell shook his head so fast it made his head spin. “No. No, no. Y-you have every right to be worried, okay? You have a family. You and Shane, you… You deserve to be concerned. I just…” He let out a shaky breath. “This isn’t the conversation I thought we’d be having when I woke up. I was prepared for finding you a therapist, not talking about fucking heroine.”

Theodore swallowed roughly, but he nodded. “How old?”

“Years. I got addicted while I was undercover. I had a hard time coming out of it. When I was sober, all I could think about was the shit I’d seen or done. But I haven’t touched it since I got sober, Theo. It’s been years. I have my damn sobriety chip in the overnight bag I bring. I take it everywhere I go.”

Theodore searched his face for what felt like an eternity. “Can I see it?”

“Yeah, yeah. O-of course. Give me just a second.”

“Uh-huh.”

Russell made his way back to Theodore’s bedroom, both hands buried in his hair. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t believe this was happening. A brand new year was going to start with his boyfriend discovering he’d been harboring a drug abusive past like the dirty, shameful little secret it was? Shameful that he’d caved to the abusive personality coursing through his veins. Shameful that he’d shot it up again and again, knowing he’d need it even more than the time before once he came down from the high.

Shameful that he’d told so much to Theodore yet continued to hide the needle scars with long-sleeved shirts and hoodies.

Russell squatted down and pulled the chip from the front pocket of his bag. Before he could even stand up, Theodore laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I could’ve found a better way to ask you,” Theodore said, his voice quiet.

“I could’ve not hidden it from you.” Russell held up the chip. “Coulda not shot up fucking heroine.”

“They put you undercover in a gang full of rapists, murderers, and drug slingers. What were you supposed to do? Stick out like a… like a narc?”

Russell let out a breath. Much as he hated it, he didn’t exactly have a good response to that one.

Theodore took the wooden chip and slowly lowered himself to the floor. “What’s… this on the back?”

“The Serenity Prayer.”

“That thing they do on TV for AA meetings?”

Russell nodded. “Yeah. They do it in real ones too.”

“So… are those what you attend?”

“No. I, umm… I attend NA meetings.” Russell licked his lips. “I’m addicted–I was addicted to narcotics. I wouldn’t have a chip if it was AA. I still drink. I’m just not… decidedly addicted to it.”

Theodore laid a hand on the side of Russell’s head and guided it to his shoulder. “Wood for… five years?”

“Yeah. Like the…”

“Wedding anniversaries,” Theodore finished. “That’s a nice idea.”

Russell nodded, closing as his eyes as Theodore smoothed a hand over his hair. “I was gonna tell you, Theo. I swear to God, I was gonna tell you. This is still just… so new, and I just thought… I don’t know. I didn’t wanna risk losing you and Vera so damn soon.”

Theodore stayed silent for a long moment, but his hand never stopped moving. Russell managed to bring himself to find comfort in that. “I think that fear is reasonable. I don’t know how much you knew about Shane or the filing, but there were about three years at the end where he was going out with coworkers to do lines of coke at their parties.”

“No, I-I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry, Theo.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Theodore cleared his throat. “I worry that I’m able to say this with such confidence,” he said through a little laugh, “but I know you’re being genuine. I know you really did have every intention of telling me. I’m sorry I saw them before you were ready.”

Russell shook his head. “Give me a day or two. I’ll be damn glad you saw ‘em.” He couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t have to wear long sleeves once it stops snowing.”

“Oo, wonderful silver lining.” Theodore moved his hand to Russell’s shoulder. “Now I get to see your arms for more than a few seconds when you’re wrapped in a towel.”

“Mm, what I’m hearing is that you love the look of me in a towel.”

“Just because I can’t bring myself to have sex doesn’t mean I don’t know when my boyfriend’s hot and still a little bit wet from the shower.”

Russell chuckled, lifting his head. He laid a hand on Theodore’s cheek. “I’m gonna tell you somethin’ a little scary, Theo.”

“Oh… kay?”

“I love you.”

Theodore blew out a sharp breath before swallowing. “You, umm…? Me?”

“You,” Russell whispered.

“That is a little scary,” Theodore whispered back. “What do you want me to say?”

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to say anything at all. I just can’t keep biting it back every single time that you say something or do something or smile in a way that I’m absolutely in love with.”

Theodore leaned in and kissed him. “I don’t know when I’ll ever be ready to say those words to someone again, but in the meantime? I love hearing them.”

Russell smiled. “We make a damn good pair, then, ‘cause I love saying ‘em.” He brushed a thumb over Theodore’s cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “What do you say we put my chip back in its little pouch, and then you and me go finish whatever four-course meal you’re making for breakfast?”

Theodore laughed, shoving Russell’s shoulder. “Deal.”

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