The Lawman's Librarian

by Rebecca Brochu

  By the time he staggers into the office Monday morning, shades firmly attached to his face even though it’s overcast, everyone is staring at him judgingly. His eyes dart from face to face. He sees the looks of sympathy on some and the harsh disapproval on others and he just can’t take it. He cracks faster than he ever thought possible.

  “She kissed me, for Christ’s sake! It was all her! Her with her claws and her sneaky underhanded moves and general disregard for personal space. I had nothing to do with it!” His voice breaks on the end because even if he had drained two cups of coffee this morning he can still taste whiskey sometimes.

  The deputies and the receptionist all stare at him for a moment before they all seem to crack at once. Nick winces and then huffs and stomps off to his office, the sound of their laughter ringing in his head and making his headache worse. They’re all bastards, the whole lot of them, and he hopes they all have a horrible Christmas.

  He goes about his day as normally as possible, hyper aware of the way everyone’s watching him. He growls at anyone who comes too close and is just generally unpleasant all day, but they all seem to understand and give him as much leeway as they can. When he finally gets to go home that afternoon he just slumps down in his armchair and buries his face in his hands.

  He’s almost thirty, it’s less than a week from Christmas, and Peter apparently doesn’t want anything to do with him ever. Macy, the receptionist at the station, had told him that Donna, the waitress at the diner, had told her that Peter had done nothing but scowl whenever his name was mentioned.

  So it’s official. Nick’s going to go out, buy a puppy, and never leave his house again.

  “You know I’m actually kind of disappointed in you, Nicky.”

  Nick jumps out of his armchair, startled, and whips around at the sound of his sister’s voice. He’s really got to get his shit together because he’s supposed to be a cop and his little sister, who teaches tenth grade geometry, is able to sneak up on him. Still he’s half convinced that she’s some sort of mutant velociraptor/ninja hybrid since she’s silent and damn good at opening doors.

  “What now?” He groans and slumps back down in his chair.

  “I’m disappointed that you’re willing to give up this easily, Nicky.” Lana moves around until she can stare down at him, eyebrow arched haughtily.

  “What part of he doesn’t want to see me ever again do you not understand, Lana? He threatened to call the police on me, and I’m the fucking sheriff. I’m pretty sure he was serious!” Nick knows he sounds almost hysterical, but he doesn’t know what Lana wants from him. This is hard enough without her poking at his wounds every two seconds.

  “The part I don’t understand is the one where you give up so easily.” She sounds fierce and just a bit angry with him, and it just makes Nick’s chest hurt even more.

  “None of this was easy, Lana. None of it.” He knows he sounds as tired as he feels because her face softens and she reaches out a hand and ruffles his hair.

  “I know, Nicky, but you’ve been half in love with Peter since you were nine and it’s never gotten any better. Honestly I’m beginning to believe it never will. So what I don’t understand is how you can give up the first time you hit a speed bump.”

  She sighs when he doesn’t say anything and then turns and heads for the front door. He hears her open it, feels the blast of icy wind at his back, but she hesitates for a second.

  “You know I never thought I’d say this but if you give up this easily when the going gets tough, Nicholas, then maybe you don’t deserve him. I always thought it would be the other way around. I guess I was wrong.” She slips outside and closes the door behind her with a quiet click.

  Nick kicks at the bottom of his chair with his heel and then leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and burying his face back in his hands. He curses Lana loud and long and full of venom. He hates when she says things like that, things that make him feel guilty or small because she’s his little sister and he hates disappointing her. Moreover he hates the fact that she’s right.

  Fuck.

  She’s completely right.

  Goddamn it.

  Chapter Six

  Nick takes his time and approaches the situation like a police operation, all intense focus and zero room for failure. He thinks up and discards a hundred different plans of attack before he finally settles on the perfect one. He puts it off for a day or so and then it takes him a couple of days to arrange, and by the time it’s all said and done, it is Christmas Eve.

  He gathers up what he needs to put the plan in action and makes the short drive to Peter’s building later on that night. He gets no answer when he buzzes the intercom, but he’s willing to wait. Instead he buzzes Sadie’s apartment, and she feels guilty enough to buzz him into the building. He makes quick work of the stairs, and soon he’s outside Peter’s apartment, but there’s still no answer when he knocks. He shrugs, puts what he’s carrying down gently on the floor, and slides down the wall to settle in for the long haul.

  Hours pass and Nick’s beginning to despair, but he’s determined to wait it out. He checks his phone multiple times and can only watch as the clock reads later and later. Finally when it’s just about to turn midnight he can hear the sound of someone trudging up the steps. He stumbles to his feet and quickly brushes his clothes down and tries to fix as many of the wrinkles as he can.

  Peter comes around the corner and freezes when he sees him. His face is soft and open; his nose is red from the cold and his eyes sleepy, and Nick feels something melt in his chest. It’s a feeling he’s used to when it comes to Peter, but it always catches him off guard for a moment or two. Then Peter seems to really register the sight of Nick standing outside his front door, a large brightly wrapped box at his feet.

  “What are you doing here?” Peter sounds tired and exasperated, and it makes Nick’s heart clench, but he’s determined. He has to do this now or he’ll never do it, and he refuses to let this opportunity pass him by.

  “Merry Christmas, Peter. I just wanted, needed, to talk to you. To explain what happened the other day. I just want five minutes of your time, that’s all, I swear, and if you don’t like what you hear I’ll leave and you won’t have to deal with me again. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking for. Please.”

  Peter stares at him for a moment and then his shoulders slump and he moves forward and unlocks his door. He waves Nick inside, taking his coat and scarf off as he moves towards the open kitchen in the back. He rummages around and comes out with two cups and a kettle that he fills with water and puts on the stove to boil. Nick watches his every move after he sets his box carefully on the floor and shuts the door behind him. Peter comes back around the counter, stares at him for a moment, and then rubs at his eyes behind his glasses tiredly.

  “Look, I’m going to take a quick shower. The water’s on the boil so when it’s done make yourself some coffee and then sit down. I’ll be out in a minute so don’t touch anything you shouldn’t and don’t go anywhere.” He doesn’t give Nick a chance to reply, just spins around on his heel and marches off down the short hallway.

  Nick stands in the middle of the small living room, thoughts of Peter naked and slick with water going through his mind before he manages to shake them off. Now’s not the time to get distracted. When the kettle whistles a few moments later he moves towards it automatically and fixes himself a cup of coffee. He hesitates for a second and then makes Peter one as well because he knows that he takes it just as black as Nick does.

  He’s sipping on his drink when Peter comes back into the room wrapped in soft looking pajamas and rubbing at his still damp hair with a towel. Peter arches a brow when Nick points him towards the still steaming cup sitting on the coffee table but he settles down in the armchair across from Nick and stares expectantly.

  “Your five minutes started about thirty seconds ago.” Peter’s voice jolts Nick out of his daze, and he hurries to put his cup down and get to his feet. He sucks in a d
eep breath and begins.

  “I want you to know that there is not and never has been anything going on between me and Sadie McGuire. You can ask the deputies at the station if you don’t believe me, and they’ll vouch that I make them draw straws each week to see who has to deal with her. She’s relentless and more than slightly terrifying and so completely different from anything I want in a lover. That day she took me by surprise. I was waiting on you and when I heard the door open I thought she was you until I turned around. Then when I told her that I was waiting on you, that we had a date, she darted forward and kissed me. It took me by surprise, but I was trying to get her off of me when you came outside.” Nick looks Peter dead in the eyes the entire time he’s speaking, hoping against hope that he’ll believe him. Peter doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Nick panics slightly and just decides to say fuck it and keep talking.

  “It took me forever to get up the nerve to ask you out that day, and when you kissed me on the cheek I thought I was going to catch on fire. I freaked out for hours the day of the date only for it to all be ruined before it even started. And then I didn’t know what to do until my sister gave me a kick in the ass and then it took me a couple of days to get it all together and I just really want to know if you will.”

  “Will I what, Nick?” It doesn’t escape Nick’s notice that Peter is using his first name or that his eyes and voice have softened dramatically.

  Nick swallows hard and forces himself to croak out a reply. “Will you give us a second chance? Or a second try at a first chance? However you want to look at it.”

  “Us?”

  Nick feels himself flush a bit because he’d completely forgotten about the other part of his plan. He spins around and reaches down to pick the box up carefully so that he can place it at Peter’s feet. When Peter looks up at him confusedly, Nick just smiles softly and nods at him to open the box. Peter pulls the top off easily, and Nick can’t help but sigh at the way his face goes soft and sweet at what’s inside.

  It’s a beagle puppy, all floppy ears and short legs, with a bright red collar and an oversized silver tag that reads Chance. Peter doesn’t hesitate to bend down and scoop the pup up in his hands and cradle him to his chest. Chance gives a small puppyish yawn and curls up against Peter’s shoulder and goes back to sleep.

  “I made the decision that I was going to come here tonight and ask you if there’s room in your life for the two of us. If there’s not, I understand that, but I had to try.” Nick moves forward then, scooting the box out of the way with his foot so that he can take Chance out of Peter’s hands and put him carefully back inside so the pup can curl up in the soft blanket that’s covering the bottom. He moves back towards Peter and goes down onto his knees in front of the other man’s chair. His hands are soft and gentle when he reaches up to cup Peter’s cheeks in his palms, the pads of his fingers tracing the ear of his glasses.

  “I have been half in love with you for practically my entire life, Peter. I got into college because I heard you tell someone once that you hated people who refused to try at school. I walk into walls when you pass by, and the entire town knows I’m crazy about you. And I know that you never really knew I existed and that I’m nowhere near good enough for you, but I want that chance. I just want the chance to show you that I might not be good enough for you but that I can be good to you. The chance to do everything with you that I’ve always dreamed about. And when Lana managed to trick you or convince you into doing that stupid elf thing I thought that was my chance, but it got ruined so I’m asking you for another one. Please.” Nick pours all of the emotion he can into his little speech, trying to make Peter see that he’s painfully sincere.

  Peter’s lips are on his before he can say anything else, and Nick freezes for a second before he surges up and takes control of the kiss. One of his hands slides around to grip the back of Peter’s neck and angle him just right so that Nick can take the kiss deeper. He licks his way into Peter’s mouth and groans low in the back of his throat. It’s everything he ever imagined it would be, kissing Peter, it’s hot and wet and so fucking good that Nick knows he’s been ruined for kissing anyone else ever again.

  Peter’s it for him. He’s known that since he was little and now that knowledge slams into him all over again. Oh God, Peter’s it.

  Nick runs his tongue along Peter’s teeth and the roof of his mouth, mapping out every bit of him he can just in case he doesn’t get another chance to do it. Peter’s right there with him, meeting Nick’s tongue thrust for thrust, his hands slipping up and tangling in Nick’s dark hair so he can tug him closer. Nick runs his hands down across Peter’s shoulders and down his sides so he can wrap his fingers around Peter’s slim hips and tug him out of the chair and down across Nick’s spread thighs.

  Peter lands firmly on top of the growing swell of Nick’s cock, and the pressure causes Nick to break the kiss and groan. He pries his eyes open and looks at Peter again and almost comes on the spot. Peter’s flushed and panting, his glasses askew, his hair disheveled, and his lips kiss swollen and red. The only thing that’s missing is one of those horrible sweater vests he likes to wear and he would look like something straight out of one of Nick’s oldest fantasies.

  “God, you’re killing me. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Nick’s voice is rough and raspy.

  “Probably about as long as I’ve wanted you to do it,” Peter responds, his voice thick with want and his eyes darker than Nick has ever seen them. Nick’s stunned speechless, but then Peter’s attacking his mouth again, and all thoughts and questions besides how to get Peter naked as quickly as possible disappear from his mind.

  “Bedroom?” He rasps the word out hopefully when Peter pulls back so they can both breath and has to squash the urge to cheer when Peter nods in agreement.

  “Straight down and to the left.”

  Nick staggers to his feet, Peter wrapped around him tightly, both of them refusing to part if they can help it. They bump into more than one wall on the trip, but Nick’s sure that any bruises will be well worth it and he’s willing to get a million more if Peter will keep running his tongue across his neck and nibbling at his ear like that. Nick nudges the door open with a foot and stumbles inside, barely taking time to look at the room except to learn where the bed is before he’s tumbling Peter down across the mattress.

  They kiss and writhe together for a bit longer, cocks rubbing up against each other through layers of denim and flannel until they can’t take it any longer and start ripping at each other’s clothes. Nick’s pretty sure he hears more than one seam rip, but he can’t bring himself to care because in the next few seconds they’re both naked, and he’s finally getting to fulfill a decades-old dream.

  Peter’s gorgeous, all slim finely muscled lines and smooth skin, his cock a long heavy weight against his stomach and his tiny pink nipples pebbled with desire. He’s so different from Nick, smaller than Nick’s own wide shouldered build, his dark hair and tanned skin. Different but gloriously beautiful and Nick just knows that they’re going to fit together like puzzle pieces.

  “Nick.” Peter says his name softly and that’s all it takes for Nick to pounce on him, tumbling them across the bed as their hands run frantically across each other’s skin.

  Finally Nick manages to pin Peter flat on the mattress, and he slinks his way down his body, placing open mouth kisses as he goes, nipping tiny pink marks in the skin with his teeth, unable to stop the urge to taste and touch and mark. He’s wanted Peter for so long, wanted this for so long, that he almost doesn’t know what he wants to do first. Then Peter’s cock, hard and weeping and so hot, bumps against his chest, and his mind is made up for him.

  He keeps going farther down, tongue still doing its best to memorize the taste of Peter’s skin, and then he’s there. Peter’s cock is right in front of him, and Nick licks his lips in want and then doesn’t waste any more time thinking. He swoops down and takes the tip into his mouth in one swift move that has Pet
er shouting above him. He keeps one hand wrapped around the cut of Peter’s hip but the other wraps around the base of his cock to steady him for Nick’s mouth.

  He tastes better than Nick had ever imagined, salty but not too bitter, and he still smells like soap and fresh clean skin. Nick sucks slow and hard, his mouth sliding up and down Peter’s shaft in an easy rhythm while his tongue swirls around and across the head of his cock, pausing every now and again to dip into his slit and wiggle slightly. Peter’s moaning and thrashing, trying to buck his hips up but unable to escape the iron grip Nick has on his hip.

  Nick just loses himself in the act, in the taste and feel of Peter hard and throbbing in his mouth, in the knowledge that he finally has him where he’s always wanted him. Peter’s panting and calling his name above him and tugging gently at his hair in warning, but Nick ignores it. He wants Peter to come, wants to taste it, to have him lose control inside of his mouth with the knowledge that Nick was the one who drove him to such extremes.

  Peter comes hard and suddenly across his tongue, and Nick swallows it down and keeps sucking. He cleans Peter with his tongue, makes sure to get every drop there is and then keeps going until Peter is tugging at his hair harder, his cock too sensitive for what Nick’s doing.

  He finally pulls off, but he doesn’t really give Peter a chance to recover. Instead he grabs him by the hips and flips him over onto his stomach so he can spread him open and press his tongue against his hole. The normally tightly furled muscle is loose from Peter’s orgasm and Nick just presses inside ruthlessly. Peter moans low in his throat and squirms, but this time he’s pressing back into Nick’s mouth instead of trying to escape.

  He fucks Peter slow and steady with his tongue, bites gently at his rim just to feel him jump and twitch, and then slides a finger in alongside his tongue just to hear him whine high in his throat. Nick keeps going, adds another finger and then another, licks around them and between them, loosens Peter up for his cock because he wants nothing between them, not even the slick slide of lube.