“Absolutely,” Crash said. “I took some kind of medication, terrible side effects. By the time I was off the pills, I had a rack like you would not believe. Sometimes I miss fondling myself, but really, I prefer being flat-chested.”
“Right,” Nick said. He was used to Crash’s bullshit by now and had learned to go with it. Sometimes it was fun to play along; it definitely offered a break in the monotony.
Crash hummed to himself as he ate a handful of conversation hearts. After he swallowed, he leaned close to Nick and propped his chin on his shoulder. “You should come home with me tonight,” Crash said. “I got you a present.”
“What is it?” Nick asked. “Your hot body? Your decided lack of boobs? A tea cozy?”
“Do you want a tea cozy?” Crash asked.
“No,” Nick said. “I’m not even really sure what those are.”
“You put them on teapots,” Crash said. “To keep them cozy. They’re like mittens for teapots. It’s so weird.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Well. Yeah.” Crash inched closer, breath tickling the side of Nick’s neck. “It’s not a tea cozy or my hot body or my breastlessness.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. Breastlessness. He needed to remember that and tell Hylas, he would definitely appreciate it. “Okay, so what is it?” Nick asked.
“Clearly you do not do this sort of thing very often,” Crash said with a sigh. “It’s a gift and part of gift-giving is not telling the intended recipient of said gift what that gift is.”
“Um. All right.”
“Good,” Crash said. “It’ll be a most excellent adventure. I’ll meet you here in the lot and you can follow me home.”
“Like a puppy,” Nick said, amused.
“Pretty puppy,” Crash assured him.
“Weird fucking guy,” Nick reminded him.
“I promise I’ll take care of you,” Crash said. He had moved even closer and snaked an arm around Nick’s waist as he licked the side of his neck up to his earlobe. He drew it into his mouth and sucked lightly, making Nick shiver. “I’ll give you tummy rubs and fresh water and plenty of exercise.”
Nick laughed and pushed Crash away. His seduction method needed a lot of work. The puppy thing wasn’t creepy, necessarily, but it was off the wall and not sexy in the slightest. “No,” Nick said. “Try again, Casanova.”
“I like Don Juan better.”
“I don’t care,” Nick said. “Just don’t call me a puppy or any other kind of furry mammal.”
“I should call you a luscious lizard then?” Crash said. He shook his head, nibbling his bottom lip. Then he smiled and said, “Ah! I know what I can call you.”
“I’m afraid to ask… but… what is it?”
“A magnificent monotreme,” Crash swayed from side to side, grinning and pleased with himself.
“Is that some kind of virus?” Nick asked.
Crash smacked his own forehead and let out a heavy sigh. “No, it’s platypuses and echidnas,” Crash said. “Freaks of the natural world. Egg-laying mammals, Nick. It was ingenious… for about two seconds.”
“I don’t lay eggs,” Nick pointed out.
“Still.” Crash shook more conversation hearts out of the box and crunched on them. “Ho-hum,” he said around a mouthful of pastel-dyed sugar.
Nick smoked and watched a stray dog limping its way across the far edge of the parking lot.
He and Crash had been seeing each other regularly since their first date at Bouchon’s. As far as Nick could tell, things were good between them. Crash was still weird and Nick still didn’t know what the hell he was doing when it came to such a mythical thing as a relationship, but he was almost certain he wasn’t making a mess of it. It did leave him perplexed though that Crash hadn’t tried to fuck him yet, though when Nick thought about it, he thought maybe it did make sense.
After Crash’s initial mistakes with Nick, he was taking it slow. And okay, Nick hadn’t come to that conclusion on his own; Dawn Marie had suggested that might be the case. She’d had lots of relationships (though none that were good as far as Nick could tell) and therefore had more experience. Her relationships were typically examples of what not to look for in a potential partner, but even though they all tanked, Nick still had confidence that Dawn Marie knew the right way to begin a relationship.
Crash kissed the side of his face and Nick turned to look at him. “What?” he asked.
“My lunch break is over,” Crash said. “So is yours. I checked your watch.”
Nick nodded and took a last drag of his cigarette. “Back to the vomit detail.”
Crash slid off the tailgate and held out his hand to Nick, fingers clenched around something. “A parting gift,” Crash said.
Nick dutifully held out his hand.
Crash uncurled his fingers and dropped a pale pink heart into the cup of his palm. “Later, Nick,” Crash said.
He turned and trotted away while Nick was still in the process of turning the little heart over to read the smudged words in the bad light. When he saw what they said, he snorted out a laugh then dropped the little heart into the pocket of his work shirt. Be Mine.
“Sure,” Nick said to himself.
He slammed the tailgate and went back into the hospital to mop up some new mess of mystery fluids. Or maybe he’d get to clean a bathroom someone had sprayed with diarrhea. Damn, he really needed a new job.
He checked his watch and felt a little better though; in three hours he would be done for the night and could follow Crash home. That should at least prove to be interesting if nothing else.
Crash was waiting for him by his truck when Nick left the hospital. He waved and then pointed to a dark blue sedan parked closer to the morgue, exhaust pluming into the cold night air. “That’s me,” he said. “You ready?”
“Yep,” Nick said. He’d already told Nancy that he was going to Crash’s and she’d told him to be careful, but smiled. She was glad Nick was seeing someone and not being paid for it.
“Then let us away,” Crash said. He walked back to his car and waited until Nick had pulled out of his parking space before leaving his own.
They drove out toward Nick’s side of town, past the flapping ribbons of wind-torn crime scene tape draped across Josephine Miller’s driveway. The Washington family lived a few miles up from Josephine’s former abode. Hylas had been trying to talk him into going to the Washington place; said he wanted to take some follow-up shots of the place for a big article on the murders, but Nick wouldn’t go because he didn’t want to see the place where Chantilly and her family died. It was the same reason he wouldn’t go with Hylas over to Hunter’s place, though Hylas had eventually enlisted Tobias in that. Thinking about how he lived near the scenes of so many gruesome deaths made Nick shiver.
He nearly rear-ended Crash when he slowed at a driveway nearly hidden by overgrowth. Crash had turned without bothering with his blinker and Nick rolled his eyes then turned in behind him, following him along the rutted dirt driveway.
Crash’s house was a little bungalow with pale blue siding and dark blue storm shutters. His yard was a little overgrown by two camellias on either side of the doorsteps so tall they nearly touched the roof, but the house itself was in good repair. Crash did not strike Nick as the type to care whether or not his lawn was perfectly mowed or his hedges were trimmed, though come summer the place was going to look like a jungle; a snake-infested jungle.
“Here we are,” Crash said when Nick got out of his truck. He stood on the top doorstep, barely visible in the shadows from the camellias and the weak moonlight. If not for his white work uniform, he would have been just another shadow.
Nick kept his eyes on him as he walked toward the porch, inching along through the tall grass because it was dark as hell out and he didn’t want to fall on his face. “Could you maybe turn on a light?” Nick said.
“Bulb is blown, but I have my cell phone,” Crash said. Nick heard him patting at his pockets. “Somewhere. Where… W
here… Ah.”
A second later, the flashlight on Crash’s phone hit Nick right in the eyes. He cursed and threw up his arm to block the light. It reminded him of cops and their damn flashlights, how they loved to blind people with them. It always made Nick think of hunters spotlighting their intended prey. Nancy said he had a wildly uncharitable opinion of police officers, which Nick countered with: Wouldn’t you have one, too, if the situation was reversed?
“Fuck,” Nick said when his foot hit the bottom doorstep. The grass was so high it would have been nearly lost in broad daylight; with darkness all around and bright spots dancing in his eyes it might as well have been invisible.
“Sorry,” Crash said. He reached down and took Nick’s arm, fingers strong and sure as he tugged him forward. “Step when I say, all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Nick said.
Crash talked him up the doorsteps, walking backwards so he could lead Nick onto the porch. He didn’t seem bothered by the lack of light and by the time Crash opened the front door, Nick’s eyes were adjusting as well, the annoying spots fading away.
“Come in, come in,” Crash said.
“I am,” Nick said. He stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. With the little bit of starlight gone, he was plunged into darkness and blinded all over again. “Turn on a damn light, Crash. Come on.”
“Hmm?” It came from a patch of darkness just ahead of him and Nick squinted and thought he could make out the faint white outline of Crash’s uniform. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched, but discarded it.
“Light,” Nick said. “Please. You might know your way around—congratulations and all that—but I don’t. So, can you please turn on a lamp at least?”
“Oh,” Crash said like he hadn’t even thought of that. “I can do that. I have two lamps, in fact.”
“Great,” Nick said. “I’ll just wait here while you do that.”
“Yes,” Crash said. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think about that kind of thing much.”
Nick hadn’t heard him move away, but his voice was no longer as close and slightly muffled. “Why, can you see in the dark?”
“I do have excellent night vision, but that’s not why,” Crash said. “I know the house is all, so I come in and go change when I get home. I usually don’t turn on a light until I’m in my room.”
There was a soft click from Nick’s left and a second later, soft light illuminated a wide doorway. Nick followed it and found Crash standing beside a dark grey sofa, the lamp on the end table behind him throwing him into partial silhouette.
He smiled at Nick and waved at the couch. “Sit, sit,” Crash said. “I’ll go get your Valentine’s present.”
Nick’s steps didn’t falter, but he was thinking, Shit. Shit. Damnit to hell.
Valentine’s Day. Of course. That explained the fucking candy hearts. God, sometimes he was really stupid.
Nick sat down on the couch and while he waited for Crash to come back he made a concerted effort to tell himself he wasn’t the most clueless asshole in town. All signs had pointed to Valentine’s Day and he still hadn’t caught on. He felt so very blond in that moment that it was a little embarrassing—and insulting.
Valentine’s was a non-holiday to Nick, it always had been. It seemed to him that it was nothing more than a money pit for people in relationships to waste time and energy on in an effort to make their significant others feel special. The thing about it that had always struck Nick, despite his own lack of a relationship status, was that it was kind of fucked up that people needed a particular day when they were obligated to make their partners feel loved. That didn’t seem right to him; he’d always thought that if you loved someone then you should just want to do nice things for them whenever the fancy struck you. But Nick didn’t know much about that sort of thing, the billions of dollars spent every year on Valentine’s Day gifts consistently proved that.
It did not make him feel like less of an (unobservant) failure though. Crash apparently thought he deserved a gift; Nick had gotten him nothing though because he hadn’t even known it was the big day of hearts and poesy nonsense. Nick was taking bets with himself on whether or not it was flowers, chocolates or a stuffed toy of some sort while simultaneously trying to gauge how irritated and disappointed Crash was going to be that he had no gift in return.
“All right,” Crash said from the doorway. “Apologies for the wait, I had to wrap it. Meant to do that before I left for work, but I was running late.”
Nick looked up at him, wide-eyed and feeling guilty just because he really hadn’t done anything. Shit. There had to be something he could do. He needed to think. Crash was holding a large, flat gift wrapped in shiny red foil paper. It had a big white bow on it printed with little red foil hearts.
Nick felt like such a dickhead.
“For me?” Nick made himself smile even though he was a little taken aback by the size of the package and the over-the-top wrapping paper. He was also only human and like most humans, he really loved getting presents.
“Yep,” Crash said as he crossed the room and presented the gift to Nick.
Nick didn’t waste any time plucking the bow off the package and ripping the paper open to get at the prize inside. What he saw drew him up short with a soft, “Huh.” It was a framed and matted art quilt square of an anatomical heart made from strips of fabric in different shades of red to represent the layers of muscle and to give it depth. The thick blue veins and the delicate marbling of fat had been quilted onto the heart with appropriately colored thread. Pops of bright metallic thread here and there meant to act as highlights gave the heart an almost wet look. It rested in the center of a black background shot through with more quilting in silver like swirls of stars.
“I got it at the art fair last week,” Crash said. “Some local guy made it, his name is at the bottom. Jeremy something-or-other.”
“It’s really elaborate,” Nick said. He didn’t know if he was grossed out or charmed by the gesture; though as far as unspoken statements went, it was an unsubtle one. Nick found it sweet in a gory way. Maybe. The drips and puddle of blood beneath the heart really sealed the deal. It looked so fresh sitting there in its starry fabric landscape.
“Do you like it?”
Crash sounded unsure and a little nervous and Nick realized he hadn’t said much of anything. He was too busy staring at the obviously expensive gift and thinking that Crash had just given him his heart. He was thinking that was a little fast, thinking that maybe he was over-analyzing the gesture, thinking that it was as pretty as it was morbid and a lot of skill and effort had gone into making it. He was thinking that he really should have gotten Crash something.
“I really like it,” Nick said as he set the framed square aside and got up from the sofa.
“Yeah?” Crash brightened immediately.
“Yeah,” Nick said as he stepped into him and put his arms around his neck. He thought he had it figured out at last. He smiled, slow and sly as he leaned down to whisper in Crash’s ear. “You want your present now?”
“I didn’t think you got me anything,” Crash said.
“Pfft, of course I was going to give you something,” Nick said. “It’s Valentine’s Day, how could I forget?”
“It is an important holiday,” Crash agreed. “Okay… so… what’s my present?”
“It’s your choice,” Nick said. He pressed a quick kiss over the pulse thumping away in Crash’s throat.
“How’s that?”
“Well…” Nick pulled back to look him in the eye. “Let’s start with something simple and go from there.”
“All right, all right.” Crash fidgeted and stared into Nick’s eyes. “Just tell me, damnit.”
“No, that’s the thing,” Nick said. “You’re going to tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What your favorite position is.”
Crash blinked at him, uncomprehending. Then it clicked and he grinned. “O
h, oh,” he said. “Oh, boy, what fun. What if I have more than one?”
“I think I can manage,” Nick said as he slid his hands down Crash’s arms to lace their fingers together. “Now, come on, show me where the bedroom is.”
Crash leaned forward and kissed him hard, unlacing his fingers from Nick’s to pull him closer. “The floor’s fine,” Crash said as he sank down to the carpet, dragging Nick with him. “The bed is far too far away for now.”
Nick laughed. “Sure, we can save the bed for later.”
“Mhmm,” Crash said as he tugged him down for another kiss.
Nick kissed him back, thinking that whore logic sometimes had its advantages: When in doubt, offer sexual favors. You will seldom ever go wrong.
Some hours later, Nick woke alone in Crash’s bed. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper even when he was tired out—and Crash had indeed worn him out. It turned out that Crash had three favorite positions and they had gone through them in order of least favorite to most favorite. By the time they collapsed in a sweaty, fucked-out heap, Nick was convinced he’d done very well with his spur of the moment offer of sex for Valentine’s Day.
He stretched and got out of bed, feeling around in the dark for his pants until he remembered they were somewhere in the living room. The side of the bed where Crash had been lying was still warm; he hadn’t been up for long. A glance at the glowing numerals of his watch said it was only a few minutes until sunrise. Nick had never gotten into the habit of sleeping with other people and was surprised he had slept as well as he had for as long as he had. He thought part of that might have had something to do with Crash’s admirable stamina.
With a laugh, Nick got up from the side of the bed and went in search of his pants. He needed to go home, he had promised to take Wes to the doctor for one of the many follow-up appointments he had in his near future, so he couldn’t laze around Crash’s place no matter how much he found himself wanting to do that. He still didn’t think he would be able to sleep much though and he really didn’t want to be dead on his feet while he was mopping floors later.
The house was dark, shades and curtains drawn over the windows, but enough grey light seeped around the edges and through the cracks in the drapery for Nick to find his way back down the hall to the big, open living room/kitchen area. Crash was standing in front of the kitchen sink when Nick stepped across the threshold, the shock of the tile icy beneath his feet. He was chewing something, Nick could just make out the motion of his jaws when he turned to look over his shoulder at Nick.
Shades of Night (Sparrow Falls Book 1) Page 26
