To Trust A Cop

Beta: working on it
Warning: some abuse
Notes: The plot thickens... well, a little anyway.


44

The blond looked out of place among all the… exotic leather attire. What with him dressed in mundane off work clothing. Easy, simple clothes that highlighted his own good features. Less knowing people would say that Seifer Almasy had little fashion sense, any person with a little know-how about clothes and appearance knew this wasn’t the case.

Seifer looked from one to another attire, both with a lot of leather which none covered the right places. At least not on a modest person. However, they wouldn’t fit the brunet, so with a frown the man put them back.

”What have you done with my Squally?”

The tall blond looked up at the accusing voice and stared a moment at the girl with funny blue ponytails. The small, scrawny girl stood wide legged with fists at her hips. Although her stance was quite threatening, the pout on her face accompanied by an unsuitable frown made her look comical. It was for that reason the cop smirked in amusement.

Seifer had a vague memory of the girl that glorious first time he had caught the brunet in a very, very agreeable mood. Hell, that had to be like… four or more months ago. Hadn’t Squall stepped foot in the boutique since then? It made him show white teeth in a wolfish grin. The blue haired girl did have the decency to get a slight blush.

“Your Squall? I didn’t see your name on him and I can assure you I looked everywhere,” he said with emphasis on the last word.

She humphed and walked up to the rack of attires he was browsing.

“Yes my Squall. He promised me a new painting but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since last time,” she pouted and gave the tall man a accusing stare.

Seifer felt for chuckling at this cheeky brat. She was the one who had to have heard them that time.

“You could at least take him for a walk every now and then. Not like I wouldn’t keep him tied to my bed if I could but still…” she went on and poked through a couple stacks of clothes.

Tied to her bed? Green eyes narrowed above a playing smirk. Any other proper woman didn’t walk up to strangers accusing them of tying people to their beds. How well did she know Squall to so freely address Seifer? Suddenly she gave him a mischievous grin.

“Or is the slave out shopping for his master?” she asked impishly.

That did make the blond chuckle. Brat.

“You’re a deviant little brat. Anyone ever given you a spanking?” the cop retorted.

It made her make a secretive smile and shake a finger at him.

“That’s for me to know and you to guess, but don’t avoid the subject. I haven’t seen a single painting for months! Are you keeping him from painting?” her eyes narrowed at him again but her bottom lip pouted.

“Me? I would never do such a thing,” he lied with a winning innocent expression.

Almost winning. She wasn’t fooled.

“Fine. Just tell him to come visit now and then,” she muttered.

“So, what’s it gonna be? This,” in her left hand she held up a leatherdress that looked to be for women,” or this,” in her right hand she held a net dress that was genderless but would sit like a second skin on the brunet.

“This and this will suite Squall perfectly,” she chirped as she held up the net dress and a blue silk leash.

Seifer smiled in amusement. Women. Some of them bewildered him. A man usually didn’t switch emotion or expression like another did underwear. Except for Squall. Hyne knew that following his train of thought was too exhausting.

“How can you be certain it’s for Squall?” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes as if it was obvious. Seifer had the unusual feeling of facing a person he couldn’t quite get his head around.

“Please, as if anyone would let that goodie go once they had their hands on him. So what’s it gonna be? Or do you need something sturdier? Like cuffs?”

Her hopeful, gleaming eyes were unnerving. Seifer chuckled. No, cuffs he had. He just wanted to see the brunet dressed in something… tight. The silk leash was a nice touch but he winced picturing the hassle of getting it on. Unless the youth was gagged and cuffed beforehand, one of them would walk away with bloody marks and it wouldn’t be Squall. Then again. Imagining that particular battle aroused him.

“Fine. Take that net thing and the leash,” he grinned.

“Right,” she chirped and skipped ahead of him.

Seifer halted by a rack of candles. It wasn’t the kind you could use on a person but scent things. He took a couple and seconds later wondered if it was such a good idea. He had planned a wooing evening. With good food and a long, nice night. But the way Squall had been freaking out the last week… Maybe the candles were too much?

The blond made a mental shrug. The youth just had to deal with it. Seifer was by now too engrossed in keeping the brunet to himself to easily let go. It actually… scared him a little. Never before had he felt quite like this with anybody. So far it had been the best decision in his life to move up a step. It didn’t bother him that Squall had yet to settle down.

“Aww…” the girl cooed and Seifer arched an eyebrow.

“Candles! That means romance!” she smiled smugly.

Seifer narrowed his eyes at her.

“Who said anything about romance? We just fuck,” he said calmly but failed in getting a satisfactory response from her.

Instead she wagged her finger at him again while picking something from a shelve behind her.

“You can’t fool me, no guy buy candles just for the beauty of having candles laying around,” she snorted.

Seifer made a tight smirk. She proved to be harder to rattle than he had first imagined. Instead he looked at the bottle of body oil she had added. Picking it up, he could read the label: “Lavender”.

“Do you have a habit of putting things in your customer’s bag?” he mused while putting it back down.

Not that it wasn’t a bad idea though.

“Yes, and you can’t seriously believe to get that boy anywhere without a good massage?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

Hyne, the girl had guts. How come she had never made a move on Squall? Or had she? She had the balls to.

“Is that so?” the cop straightened as he had handed the money over and picked up his wares.

She then leaned both elbows at the countertop and pouted at him.

“You make sure to say hello from me and tell him to get over here. I miss my favorite customer,” she whined.

The blond shook his head in amusement.

“Right, I’ll try to remember,” he promised.

Outside the mall the cop lit a cancer stick. What a weird chick. He had to ask Squall about it. Seriously, hadn’t he been in there during all this time? That was kind of mean of him. A wicked grin spread on the blond. That almost required some punishment now, didn’t it?

The tall blond slowly sauntered towards his car. It was parked in the big, nice parking garage belonging to the mall. As he walked down a walkway the hairs of his neck stood up. Seifer stopped by a garbage can and squashed the cigarette against the metal lid. In the same move he scanned his surroundings from his peripheral vision.

Something was wrong with this picture. He couldn’t pinpoint his shadow from that angle, but something was wrong. He strolled along as if not having noticed the oddity. Fortunately there was a door in to the garage. Anyone else might have looked for a hiding place, Seifer being Seifer waited by the wall close to the door and let the bag of merchandise slid to the floor. He pushed it into a corner to have it out of the way.

If whoever it was had any sense, they wouldn’t follow him inside. If this was just some punk he at least would get his hands on something to pummel.

The cop waited. And waited. Ready to accept that whoever it was had some brain, he straightened from the wall. Then the door opened. Two large men stepped in, and froze. The first gathered himself quickly and calmly walked past Seifer as if he hadn’t just been following the blond. The other followed his comrade’s example.

Seifer narrowed his eyes as he watched the two men walk down the lanes of cars. Had he been wrong? No. His instincts said otherwise. With hands in his pockets he strolled after the two men. One of them glanced over his shoulder, but they kept walking.

It would be fun to see where and if they had a car. While following the two men the blond tried to remember if he knew any of the two faces. They were big sturdy men with cropped hair and unassuming clothes. No jeweler. Not the mob, they knew better than to fuck with Seifer.

Seemingly no gang marks to distinct them from others. Lackeys of some big shot then. As they both had looked over their shoulder one too many times, Seifer was absolutely sure they had been following him. He looked in the occasional window or mirror to be sure there wasn’t a third or fourth party.

They walked past Seifer’s car and continued down the floor. As the thugs came to a dead end the charade was over. Really. The least they could do was map out the area so a plan b could be executed. Seifer stopped at a safe enough distance. If this got ugly with bullets flying around, he had the questionable safety of a car close by.

The two men conferred between each other while the cop waited for a decision. They had to know he had blown their bluff. Then the first one turned with an expression of anger and fists closed.

“What the hell do you want, huh? Fuck off freak!” he roared.

Seifer arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you want us to beat you up or something?” the other one shouted.

They advanced while looking menacingly with glares and closed fists. Seifer tilted his head. He might look like an easy target with hands in his pockets, however, you didn’t know Zell Dincht without picking up a thing or two.

“Oh, do try please,” he purred and smirked.

They didn’t advance closer than a non shouting distance. The cop noted the glance exchange between the men and the slightly hunched, unsure body language. Obviously they knew who he was and a confrontation hadn’t been their plan. Seifer took the time to truly study them to forge their ugly faces to his memory.

“Why were you trying to follow me? Who’s your boss? What does this person want with me?” he growled.

Changing the calm, sweat tone to something far deadlier. One of them blanched, the other opened and closed his fists. Then the first one sneered and made a very rude gesture.

“Go screw yourself pig. We ain’t following you,” he sneered.

They muttered things about the sanity of Seifer and the general state of the force while slowly edging around him. All the while they kept wary eyes on him and Seifer turned in time with the two ruffians.

Getting tired of their foul language, he slowly extracted his hands from his pockets. The two men froze as he cracked his knuckles, slowly.

“Now, now. That is quite the language you boys have. Someone should teach you manners,” he grinned.

The two men visibly paled as the blond cop advanced like a striking snake.

*****

The brunet served a table and quickly returned to get the next order. The crowd was thick today. Full of adults looking to spend hard earned cash as it was payday. It didn’t help that one of the school breaks started that day too. It made the crowd even thicker with youths looking to get drunk off their ass in celebration. Hyne, he wanted out of there.

Squall wiped sweat from his forehead as he returned to pick up another order. To top it off he had the wall tables too since Trixy was sick. He hated, hated, hated those tables. They were Trixy’s for a good reason. She had certain patrons that gave her some extra cash in exchange for some services. Squall didn’t mind as long as she didn’t, but he did mind as those customers asked for her time and time again. He minded it even more as the horny perverts instead took liberties with his person.

As if Squall had charge of those certain tables because he gladly took some extra cash. Every time he had to return and take a new order from those particular tables, the likelihood of him smashing someone’s scull in increased. The brunet threw an eye at the watch above the bar. Almost three Hyne damn hours left. He wanted home. He wanted home so bad he had never felt something like it before.

It wasn’t because of the work. He could be man enough to admit that it was the cop’s promise of a special evening that compelled the brunet to such homesickness. Seifer had promised to make his spaghetti bolognaise. A dish that became Squall’s very favorite the first time he tasted it. The little caller in his belt vibrated and green neon numbers told him a table in the back had called for a waiter.

The youth ground his teeth so hard they squeaked. Okay, control. Don’t think, don’t care, don’t register anything else than what they ordered. Squall ventured into the darkness and you wouldn’t believe it at first, but the place was built such that the music from the dancing floor became muffled. Just enough for people to talk with each other without shouting. However, it still required the speaking persons to be close, which required Squall to stand uncomfortably close to whoever it was.

The brunet found the table. It was surrounded by four men. He couldn’t decide what they were. They wore clothes that an ordinary construction worker could afford or any other business man. They lacked jewelry that often was a sigh of a more ruffian lifestyle. He couldn’t quite decide their ages but didn’t think they were students of some kind. They also had the deep voices and the body language of untrustworthy characters. They weren’t drunk, yet.

He stopped by a platinum haired man closest to the edge. He was… large. Squall guessed that he easily rivaled Seifer in shoulders and chest width. His short platinum colored hair shone like a beacon in the dusk. Squall hawked to make the man aware of him and ice blue eyes turned up at him. That stare, that cold, pale stare made Squall’s stomach knot.

Some people had that aura. Had that something that made his instincts kick in and tell him to get the fuck away. Squall had always trusted those instincts and so far gone unharmed through life. This man, with his pale hair and pale, pale eyes, was such a man. His wolfish grin showed an unhealthy interest and his traveling eyes made Squall’s skin prickle.

“What do you wish to order?” he asked loudly to avoid leaning closer to this predator.

Seifer had made his warning bells go off too, but it had been different. It was hard to explain, but there was a difference in a man that meant to truly hurt you and a man that was just a pervert. The platinum haired man eyed him again and smirked.

“Four beers, three ‘Torama sandwiches’ and an ‘Esper’,” the man said and his voice easily carried above the noises.

Squall couldn’t get away fast enough. It felt as if the man stared at him all the way to the bar even though the brunet knew he was out of vision at a certain point. At least he hadn’t been asked about Trixy, but that could come later. Hyne, surely she wasn’t stupid enough to get involved in any way with such a person?

The tray was prepared fast enough. The sandwiches were the place’s speciality and very cheap. Squall guessed that Mr. Unimas once had had a feeble dream of owning a restaurant, not just a bar and lunch cafe.

He returned and found himself steeling himself. Barely had he stepped into the area before he felt those eyes. Coming closer they almost seemed to glow in the dusky light. Squall decidedly didn’t look into those eyes. Sometimes you shouldn’t look away, sometimes you shouldn’t look at all. The other three were talking about something. It was just a background noise as every fibre of him seemed to focus on the pale eyed man staring at him.

Squall had to slightly lean over the table to place the drinks and food accordingly. He could feel sweat running down his neck and back. Stop staring. He thought about Seifer. Had it been the cop staring, which he so often did, it would have been different. Those green eyes made him feel hot and embarrassed and angry therefore. But this man with his pale eyes made every hair stand on the youth. Made his body feel electrified as if prepared to fight or run.

Therefore, as an unwelcomed hand sneaked between his legs from behind, Squall jumped and almost dropped the empty tray. He glared down, heart racing; still the man didn’t withdraw his hand that was groping for something Squall obviously didn’t have.

“Get your hand off of me,” he hissed and twisted with the violent attempt to break something in that hand.

Squall gasped as the man instead sneaked the arm around the lean waist and drew him down. The tray went clattering. The brunet hissed as his hipbone hit the table edge. Giving in to anger and fear and following the adrenaline rush, he started twisting and struggling in the hold. He heard them laugh as the man apparently got more than he expected. They fought shortly but it still ended with Squall’s back to the man’s broad chest and one of those thick arms around his waist and the other holding his wrists so hard it felt as if bone grated against bone. The pain was sharp enough to form tears in his eyes.

“Let me the fuck go!” Squall hissed and twisted again.

This time strong legs twisted around his to truly keep him immobile. The brunet hissed as the arm around his waist again boldly squeezed his groin. His brain didn’t want to function properly. All it could do was alternating between freezing in shock and fear or him managing to shortly take control and struggle. He could distantly hear the other men laugh and cheer their comrade on. The words didn’t register. All his frozen brain seemed capable of was focusing on the assailant.

The hand left his groin and squeezed his chest, again not finding what he couldn’t have. His heart was beating in his throat, his mouth felt dry and sour.

“I nearly mistook you for a girl,” the man purred and bit his ear.

The bite was harsh enough to force a hiss of pain from the youth. The hand sneaked under his shirt and clever fingers found and twisted his nipple. Hard. Squall bit down around a hiss of pain.

“Let me go or I’ll scream,” he threatened.

The man just chuckled and to Squall’s disgust licked his neck. The man to their right leaned closer and a big hand squeezed Squall’s thigh.

“Why don’t you come with me to one of the room’s upstairs? I’ll be real good to you,” the platinum haired man purred and bit Squall’s neck.

“In your fucking dreams! Let go of me!” Squall growled back fiercely.

All his struggles resulted in was the hurtful hand returning to his groin to send stars to his sight. The brutal squeezing forced a groan from him and spots dancing in front of his eyes. The attention to his groin however, had softened the grip around his wrists. With a hard twist he managed to free his hands and put sharp, short nails to good use.

His nails dug into the flesh of the thick arms and he had the satisfaction of hearing the man’s pained yowl and feel sticky blood coat his fingertips. For a short, breathtaking moment he thought he’d mange to escape the lap, then his hair was twisted in a brutal grip and his forehead met the table in a hard, painful thud.

Squall saw stars and for a moment couldn’t make his body respond to anything. He was re-seated in the earlier hold, the only difference being that his wrists were held brutally by the man to their side. The youth almost howled as his neck was bitten so hard he thought a chunk of flesh would follow.

“So kitten has claws, eh? You’re not the only one I’ve fucked with claws,” the man growled.

The hurtful, rough hands were unzipping his pants. That made him shake life in his stunned body. Hyne no. This wasn’t happening! Not happening. The youth started struggling as if being a wild animal in a snare. His teeth reached the man holding his wrists and he tasted blood. There was no technique or style or even thinking in his struggle. Just a mindless, furious need to get away. And suddenly he was free.

Something grabbed the scuff of his neck and bodily dragged him twisting and fighting off of the man’s lap. For a short while Squall kept twisting in the hold but the large guard easily held him while placing his own considerable body mass between the youth and the standing platinum haired man. Squall took the time to breathe deeply and look around. The towering form of Ben was advancing from the crowds, another guard came closer from another direction.

He was released when Yan, the guard that had rescued him, was sure he wouldn’t fall flat on his ass.

“Would yo please follow me, sir,” the gruff guard said with heavy accent.

“Fuck off! You see this, ya? That little bitch fucking clawed me!” the platinum haired man waved his bleeding fist.

“And nearly bit my fucking hand off!” the man still seated in the sofa shouted.

“Please lower your voice, sir,” Yan said sternly.

By now Ben and the other guard had reached them. A heavy hand squeezed Squall’s shoulder and he wanted to shrug it off. But it was just Ben motioning for him to go. Squall fled. Through the crowd and past the bar into the dubious safety of the dressing room.

Once there he couldn’t be still but had to walk around and around while trying to breathe properly. His hands were shaking. His heart was still beating like a caged bird. His body felt electric and weak and strong all at the same time. It was the adrenaline he knew that made his body feel strange and his hands to shake. Squall hissed and dragged at his hair.

He couldn’t get those pale, pale eyes out of his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling. That nagging sense of danger. That thing that made his gut clench and every nerve vibrate in attention. The door suddenly opened and the youth jumped three feet. Squall glared at the head of the guards for the scare. Squall opted to turn away instead of letting the man see the lingering fear in his face.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Squall answered tightly.

The door swished close behind the guard. When he was forced to stand in place, Squall felt for letting his knees give out. When forced to take it in he felt how sweaty his palms were and just how dry his mouth was. Hyne. Had he been that scared? Or was this adrenaline too? He looked down at his hands and now noticed the dried blood on his fingers. Not his.

He quickly started washing it off more for the need of be doing something than the need of getting clean. Those pale eyes came back in his head. The murderous rage in them once Yan had dragged him from that lethal embrace.

“Do you want to press charges?” Ben asked calmly.

Squall quickly shook his head without really thinking through his answer.

“You’re sure? We have their names and faces,” Ben urged.

Squall shook his head again while drying off his hands. They weren’t shaking so badly anymore. As the door opened again he still jumped sky high. Mr. Unimas had come storming in and his dark eyes eyed Squall as if looking for injury.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m fine,” Squall answered.

Hyne, what if he was fired for making such trouble?

“The club will cover any legal expenses,” the boss said calmingly.

“I’m not pressing charges,” Squall clarified.

He received an incredulous gaze. Then the man put both fists in his sides and stared at Squall as if he was trying to understand what had been said.

“We have their faces and names and evidence of the assault. I don’t want people to think they can do whatever the hell they want to in my club. I got contacts for these sorts of things,” Unimas growled.

Squall looked away. Sure Squall was the employee and had been attacked during work. It was Uimas’s duty to report it to the authorities. That would be the police. Squall didn’t know the whole system of things but he knew he would have to testify and see the bastard again. In a court or a hearing or whatever. He didn’t want to. Too much trouble. So he shook his head and endured Mr. Unimas’s frustrated sneer.

“Fine, we’ll talk next Saturday. You can go home early. Someone will cover for you,” Unimas said suddenly with a dismissive hand gesture.

“I’m fine.”

Squall knew that they were already shorthanded. Those men wouldn’t be out there anyway. He just needed a moment. Mr Unimas gave him another one of those incredulous stares and snorted.

“You look like a ghost. Go home, eat and get some sleep. Ben can follow you home if you need it,” the man insisted.

“That’s not necessary,” Squall croaked.

Hyne, he felt hot from embarrassment. More from the way he couldn’t answer back or stand up for himself than the way Unimas was bossing him around. After all the man was used to having to boss other people around.

“Fine, you have a motorcycle, don’t you?”

Squall nodded.

“Good. Get going and I’ll see you next Saturday,” Mr Unimas dismissed him and left the changing room.

Squall had the strong feeling that Unimas wouldn’t drop the matter and that next Saturday he would be prompted to press charges again. Whatever, he wanted home. To his embarrassment Ben stayed as he re-dressed. The guard was modest enough to look in another direction, but it felt weird with the man there. It made the brunet paranoid and wary.

Hyne, Ben wouldn’t ever make any approach on him. Still as he was done and ready to go he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on the guard to get out. He was being stupid and silly and paranoid. What in Hyne’s name did he think would happen? As Squall had manage to convince himself that nothing dangerous would happen, Ben sort of solved that issue by exiting first. Squall quickly followed.

“You don’t have to stand here,” he protested.

As the adrenaline left him, so did the fear and anxiety. Instead he started feeling foolish and embarrassed. Ben just grunted something but was firmly watching the street. Squall froze as he saw the towering figures of the men in the streetlight. He could practically feel those pale eyes burn along his body. Was it really so clever to let him go home this soon? Although Squall had an overpowering need of getting far, far away.

Had they attacked, if Squall had been alone? Had this happened before? Since Unimas sort of ordered Ben outside? Squall’s hands shook slightly again as he took on his helmet and started the motorcycle. He had to steel himself into iron as he had to drive past the men to reach the street. It didn’t help with Ben’s presence.

As Squall reached the street he put on enough gas for the bike to rear up. He didn’t care. Away. Away. Fast. Those eyes came back in his head. The hands, the smell the throttling fear that still knotted his stomach. Rape. Had he truly risked rape? Certainly it wouldn’t have gone as far as to a full... All the way sort of thing?

Squall pressed his lips together hard and speeded up a little more. Never before had he felt so threatened. Never before had it felt so real. All the times before when people touched him without permission had he ever gotten this feeling. Never this close.

Home came faster than he realised. Sooner than he thought possible was he rolling down the street to home. He hadn’t managed to calm down yet. His hands still felt shaky, his guts felt hard and aching, that could be hunger though. The youth tried to order himself to be normal again. They couldn’t be here so far away from the club. No one could have followed him in that speed.

Paranoia seemed to be come easy for him. He was ridiculously jumpy as he parked the bike and walked into the house. He was watching the shadows closely and found himself anticipating that platinum hair to glow in the darkness. Why by Hyne couldn’t he let it go?

They wouldn’t follow him home. That man would forget this night much faster than Squall and next time they saw each other, he wouldn’t recognise Squall. Right?

Somehow he didn’t succeed in convincing himself of that. The shadows of the house just grew deeper and scarier. The ordinary creaking sounds became footsteps slowly approaching. As he put the wrong key in the door, Squall cursed himself. If he didn’t calm the fuck down he’d have Seifer all over him asking questions. He didn’t want that now, did he?

Finally the door opened and Squall was shocked to find the lights on and the apartment smelling food. He closed the door and a very familiar face peered out at him around the corner of the kitchen entrance. Hyne, he had forgotten Seifer was supposed to be there. Bloody hell, he had himself given the man the bloody key that morning! How could he just forget what he had been longing for the whole fucking day?

“You’re early,” the cop stated bluntly.

Squall could only stare for a moment. Seifer... had an apron on. He grunted an affirmative and started undressing his outer clothes. He was shaking again. The cop returned to the kitchen and the sounds of the frying pan. Squall quickly escaped deeper into his apartment. That was still dark and he found he couldn’t light any lamps. In fact he couldn’t do anything. Just stand there staring at his familiar bedroom/living room.

It felt absurd. Standing there with all familiar things, the smell of food, the comforting and safe presence of the blond. The image of the cop in an apron should, he knew, make him incredulous but he couldn’t form any kind of emotion. Not apart from this feeling of shellshock.

He was supposed to do something. Squall couldn’t remember what. Paint? He didn’t want to. Then what? The apartment was clean, there was nothing to clean. Re-dress? Yes. A shower and some comfortable clothes. He usually showered once back home.

As if moving through water, the youth walked to the box containing clothes and another containing towels. A shadow towered over him and Squall jumped. The ceiling lights was suddenly turned on and he squinted in the sudden light.

“What’s wrong?”

Not even a hello? Or a why are you early? Just “what’s wrong”? Was it that obvious? Squall picked up the clothes and the towel and held the items like a shield. The blond had discarded the apron, thank Hyne. It really didn’t suite him. Squall couldn’t look up in green eyes. He suddenly couldn’t even speak in fear of revealing just how badly shaken he was.

The knot in his gut suddenly loosened but the trembling returned. Come on, it hadn’t been that bad? Not bad enough for him to completely break down and discard all dignity. Like crying. Been there, done that. Once was far too many times for Squall’s peace of mind.

However, as a gentle hand nudged his chin he childishly avoided it and buried down in the cloths he held. Hyne, please, he couldn’t and wouldn’t start crying. It hadn’t been that bad. It was just a scare. Like a bad nightmare. Shouldn’t he feel safe and less fear once home in the presence of the cop?

“Squall... look at me,” the blond ordered firmly.

As he didn’t comply a gentle hand nudged his chin again. This time he wasn’t allowed to shrug it off, instead Squall looked away to still avoid those dark green eyes.

“I just need a shower,” he croaked.

He sounded far from his usual self. This time his jaws were gripped tightly and he had no choice but to look up into those eyes that saw too much. Squall’s sight blurred as tears finally gathered and fell. He didn’t sob though. They just fell. Underhanded bastards. He managed to control the knot in his throat but still they fell. Squall quickly dabbed the wetness away but not before Seifer had seen them.

Uncharacteristically the man stayed silent. Just stared down at him while stroking a callous thumb across a wet cheek and trembling lips. It wasn’t fair that a simple stare could make him break. But it was impossible to stay quiet under such a heavy stare.

“I’m fine, I need a shower,” Squall persisted.

Still he couldn’t quite make himself to leave the man. He could shake off the hand since he wasn’t held so firmly, still he didn’t. The cop just continued staring at him. Squall quelled another sob and escaped the hand to rub his own across his face.

“It was just some asses at the club. But I’m fine. The guards did their job,” he assured.

Almasy made a strange noise and Squall realised the man hadn’t been breathing.

“What... job,” he asked tightly.

Squall shrugged. He started to feel tired. The fright started to leave him and he finally started to win over the tears.

“You know, threw the drunkards out,” he shrugged.

A big hand suddenly stroked his shoulder and Squall hissed and recoiled at the sudden pain at a sudden particular place of his neck. Squall did the mistake of looking up at the man as this made another strange sound. The youth watched in awe struck fascination. The green eyes seemed to go pitch black and something in the man’s face changed until he looked like a dog bearing fangs.

Although the hand was gentle; Squall could feel small tremors in the fingers stroking the bite. He almost stepped back as those black eyes turned at him.

“Their job? This is them doing their job? Who gave you this? What did the fucker do exactly? You know his name?” the last question was little more than a hissed growling.

Squall was stunned into fascinated silence. He had never seen true rage. Real, deep, hot anger. He shook his head. He didn’t know the man’s name. It contorted the cop’s face to a silent snarl.

“What does he look like? When was he thrown out?” he growled instead.

It was odd witnessing the man in such a rage but not feel fear. He felt more bewildered than anything.

“What’d he look like?” Seifer hissed.

Squall’s brain decided to kick back into action then. He eyed the angry blond warily. If he told Seifer what the man had looked like, would Seifer find him? And if, what would he do? Squall couldn’t help but remembering that uneasy revelation that the cop had killed. Out of duty and with that gunblade.

Somehow the thought of the blond killing the platinum haired man on Squall’s behalf made him feel sick. A strong hand gripped his arm.

“Squall. What did he look like?” Seifer asked lowly, angrily.

Squall calmly slipped from the grip.

“I want a shower,” he said instead.

Oddly enough he was allowed to take his shower. Under the water Squall was hit by a sudden exhaustion. His stomach started growling too. Shifting the rhythm of the day was tiresome. He gingerly touched the bite. It felt hot and swollen and it ached without touching it. Damn fucking cannibal. Maybe he should put Seifer on the guy’s heels?

*****

He was so furious he didn’t know what to do. Oddly enough in the middle of that red hot, almost white blazing rage there was a hard black core of clarity. Fucking hell, he was shaking with fury.

The blond stalked back and forth in the apartment while struggling with emotions and imaginations. Some Hyne damn dead man walking had touched his Squall. His! Bitten his bloody neck off and hurt the youth to a point where his eyes were white rimmed with fear.

Seifer snarled to the apartment in general. Had it been whoever was after him? Whoever had put those thugs on his heels today? Or just some random fuck-up believing Squall was an easy target? They’d learn otherwise. He’d get his hands on the guy and make him wish he was dead!

If it was some sorry gnat trying to get to Seifer through Squall he would be happy to go see them. With Hyperion. The cop snarled in frustration again. He wanted to pummel someone to a bloody pulp but Squall hadn’t told him anything worthwhile. He couldn’t very well storm off to the club and demand details from the guards. They were way too professional for that.

The bathroom door opened and the brunet emerged. Re-dressed in warm clothes and still towelling his hair. He had gotten some colour back in his face. Those grey-blue eyes had regained some of their calm. The sight didn’t calm him in the least. Squall gave him one look then escaped into the kitchen. Seifer stalked after him but stopped in the entrance. The youth was making the table since Seifer hadn’t gotten that far. In fact, he hadn’t gotten anywhere near the setting he had wanted.

He tried to formulate a sentence in his head that wouldn’t make the youth retreat into a shell. The best would be to ignore the whole thing but that was as possible as not breathing. He had to know.

“I’m not pressing charges,” Squall said lowly without looking up.

He did look up however as the wood of the kitchens’ entrance frame creaked ominously.

“Then I suggest you take a good look at your neck. You should get a tetanus shot,” he growled.

The red edges were getting back in his vision.

“What did the fucker look like?”

“Why? Are you going to kill him?”

The blunt, frank question caught the blond off guard. He hadn’t quite expected the brunet to be so blunt. Seifer ground his teeth together. He wanted to say yes, Squall probably saw that in his eyes because he turned away and continued setting the table.

“I’m not pressing charges and he’ll not be invited to the club again. I’ll never see him again,” Squall said calmly as if Seifer was the one needing assurance.

The cop wasn’t too certain. He didn’t believe in coincidences. It couldn’t be a freak chance that both he and Squall was attacked at the same day. Just couldn’t. Those two thugs hadn’t said a word even after the beating they’d got but it just reinforced Seifer’s believe that there was a big ugly fish behind it.

“And what if he targets you, huh? He could be a psycho just looking for some prey,” Seifer snarled.

Squall did glance at him at that. As the table was ready he just stood there glancing between the tableware, food and Seifer. The blond wanted to walk over and shake some sense into him. But he restrained himself and mauled the wood under his hands instead.

“I’m not sure I could identify him. It’s dark in the club.”

The admittance almost knocked the winds from his sails. Seifer had prepared himself for a way longer and more difficult battle than that.

“He has really blond hair, more of a platinum colour and... very light blue eyes...” Squall trailed off.

Seifer narrowed his eyes and in the middle of the fury, in that black knot of clarity, some bell started chiming. There was something familiar in that description. Suddenly grey-blue eyes stared intently at him.

“Now what?” the youth asked and he had put up a neat guard.

I’ll find him and make him regret what he did. I’ll find and kill him. I’ll find and castrate him. Of course Seifer didn’t voice any of those thoughts. Even he knew when he had to keep his cool even when it was hard as hell.

“Now we’ll eat,” he answered almost calmly.

The promising evening turned sour.


Author’s Note:
Not much to say really. I know there are those readers who don’t review when the author asks for them but...

I’m still gonna keep pleading for them since reviews is the fanfiction author’s only reward ;)