(23) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

Blair smiled and shook his head. “They’re both…My father died when I was a kid and then my mother remarried and died. I mean…she didn’t die because she remarried, she died when I was fourteen.”

“Which was how many years ago? And you’d better say at least…” I did a quick calculation in my head, “at least seven years ago.”

“Or you’ll arrest me for being here when I’m underage?” He grinned and it lit up his eyes so that they were almost silver rather than the dark gray of storm clouds.

“No, since you’re drinking water you’re safe. But how old are you actually, just out of curiosity?”

“Almost twenty-three, and you?”

“Thirty-four and counting,” I admitted.

He studied my face for a long moment. “You don’t look it, not really. Maybe here,” his fingertip brushed lightly over the corner of my eye, “but those are laugh lines so they don’t really count.”

“And you surmised that how?”

“Instinct?” he said with a small shrug.

“Well I like the idea.”

“Why? You do laugh don’t you? I mean sometimes, when you’re not working. That wouldn’t make you even smile, I guess. And I’m babbling.”

“No you’re not, you’re just talking and there’s nothing wrong with that. Yeah there’s not too much to smile about in what I do, until a case gets solved. That’s what makes the whole thing worth it though.”

Blair nodded slowly as he listened. “I don’t think I could handle having to see someone who’d been killed, murdered.” He shuddered and his brow creased with a frown. “Is that why… No, never mind.”

“Why what, Blair?”

“Why you come here. To try to…to find someone to help you relieve the stress of the job,” he replied, his words tumbling out as he blushed and looked away.

(22) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

I noticed the slight hesitation when Blair said he worked at a restaurant and wondered if it was more than that. He definitely had the slender, enticing type of body that made me imagine him working at a fancy club, maybe as a dancer or even a drag queen. But I wasn’t going to push to find out if I was right or not. He seemed tense and I didn’t want to add to it. If San Pierre was correct, this young man had never let anyone try to pick him up. I was almost shocked when he said I could join him.

Damn he was beautiful, almost fey in the good way. He brought out my protective instincts big time.

“Quinn?”

I shook my head, realizing I’d been staring at him. “Yes?”

“I asked what you did.” His face was flushed as if he wasn’t used to someone looking at him the way I’d been and I smiled, trying to ease his tension.

“I’m a cop, a detective actually.”

“Seriously?” He looked at me and then his eyes roved over my body as if assessing the truth of my answer by the way I was build or the clothes I was wearing, or… Hell I didn’t know but when I told him yes I was serious he accepted it. “Like the ones in the movies who go after thieves and murders?” He winced then and looked down at his glass. “That sounded very childish didn’t it?”

“Not at all, and yes that kind, though trust me it’s not nearly as romantic as they portray it on the screen. It’s pretty much drudge work all told.” I reached across to lift his chin so that he’d look at me again, expecting him to pull away. I wanted to reassure him that I didn’t find him childish in the least. “Most people think that’s how cops are, like in the movies.”

When he chewed the corner of his lip before replying I thought it was one of the most endearing things I’d ever seen. “Do you like doing that?” he asked.

“I do actually, yeah. I’ve got a strong protective streak. I suspect it comes from growing up as the oldest of four kids and the only boy.”

“Wow, big family. I’m an only.” Something flashed deep in his eyes, pain and I’d almost swear, fear, for a second and then they were back to normal. “Did you...is your family here?”

“No, back east, that’s where I grew up. How about yours? Well not the ‘here’ part,” I said, chuckling.

Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (4)

Tim almost cheered when he looked out the front window the next morning and saw sunshine. Not that the snow would melt anytime soon but at least it had stopped, and hopefully the sidewalks would be shoveled. He got dressed quickly, made breakfast, and then flicked on the TV to check the temperature. Surfing the channels, he hit one of the two local stations just in time for the last of the morning news. "Thirty-two? Not so bad." Turning it off, he grabbed his scarf, wrapping it around his neck, put on his coat and gloves, and with his backpack slung over one shoulder, took off.

The sunlight glared off the snow, causing him to blink a few times before his eyes got used to it. The apartment building's sidewalks were already shoveled, as were most of the ones he saw ahead of him for the next block, until the he reached the main cross street. There, because the buildings were primarily businesses—some of which didn't open until ten or later—he would have had to follow the path beaten down by earlier pedestrians if he was going to work. Being his day off, he wasn't.

But who cares? At least it's not snowing and from the look of it, it's not going to today.

He walked into the local coffee shop on the corner to get his usual morning Americano. Much to his surprise, the barista greeted him with a cheerful 'Good morning'. Tim looked around, figuring it must have been meant for someone else but at the moment, he was the only one at the counter.

"Morning," he replied.

"Your usual?" the barista asked.

"Americano, yes."

"What's that?" someone asked from behind him.

Tim turned to find Dom standing there. "You don't know?"

Dom chuckled. "Wouldn't have asked if I did."

"It's… well… basically, watered down espresso."

"Why water it down?"

"Because it tastes better than just coffee, but isn't as strong as pure espresso."

Dom looked at the barista, saying "I'll take one too, and one of those." He pointed to a breakfast sandwich in the case beside the counter. "No food in the apartment yet," he explained to Tim. "I guess that should go to the top of my list of things to do. Speaking of which, I'm glad I ran into you. I have a favor to ask, when you have the time."

"I have the time now, so ask away," Tim replied with a small smile.

"Okay, I guess I didn't phrase that quite right. I could use your help, if you're willing. I want to go to that thrift shop you mentioned and I thought maybe you could take me there—and perhaps help me choose some furniture?"

Tim swallowed hard. He's really asking me to help him? Me? "Umm… sure, I guess. Now? I'm off today."

"I wish I was," Dom said with a rueful smile. "How about late this afternoon, if it doesn't start snowing again? Do you know if they deliver?"

Tim nodded. "Yes. Or I guess I should say they did when I shopped there, so…"

"Got the picture. Let's hope they still do. I don't see myself carrying a sofa home on my back."

"I don't think that's possible," Tim replied seriously.

Dom laughed. "I was just kidding. Actually, I'd think I'll rent a truck. Then I won't have to wait for stuff to be delivered."

"Ah, umm, yeah." Tim felt stupid that he didn't get Dom's joke, so he was glad when the barista handed him is Americano. After paying for it, he told Dom, "I have to get going, but if you want to do it this evening… around five?"

"Sure, that works for me. I'll see you then."

* * * *

"He's not going to show up," Tim muttered morosely.

He glanced at the time and saw it was just past five-thirty. He probably found the shop on his own and… and someone he works with has a truck and offered to help him. Story of my life. No one really means what they say.

He dropped down on the sofa, suddenly not the least bit hungry, even though he'd planned on suggesting he could fix a quick meal for both of them before they went to the thrift store. "Dreamer," he said, shaking his head. "He told me this morning he had to go shopping for groceries. He probably did that right after work, got home, made supper then went to meet his friend."

Laying his head against the back of the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I believe someone might want to be my friend? It's never happened before. Not really. Acquaintances, yeah, occasionally. Some regulars at the library who makes it a point to ask me about books. A tenant or two here. The ones who bother to talk to me in the elevator. That's it. I'm about as…as useful as…as that damned picture. With his head on the back of the sofa, he was able to squint up at it, seeing it upside down. I fill a space, just like it does. If I wasn't there, no one would even notice.

He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to just drift off to sleep and never wake up. "Peaceful," he whispered. "No more pain, no more rejection, no more…anything."

A sharp rap at the door startled him out of his reverie. He sprang to his feet, hurrying over to answer it then stopped before he did. Why bother? If it is him, he'll apologize, say he found the shop without my help and got his friend with the truck to help him move what he bought into his apartment. But maybe…

"Hi" Dom said, smiling when Tim opened the door. "Sorry I'm so late but it took forever at the truck rental place and I didn't have your number, so I couldn't call you."

"Oh." Tim felt a wave of relief wash over him. "I… I figured you'd gotten a friend to help you and… well…"

Dom leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. "You're the only friend I've made so far since I got here. So…" When Tim just stood there, Dom added, "It's pretty cold outside. You might want to put on a jacket. I mean… if you're still willing to help me."

"I am!" Tim turned, dashing to get his coat and gloves.

(21) I am what I am

~Blair~

I huddled back in my small space in the far corner of the club, watching the noisy group of men at the table closest to me. From the sound of it, it must have been the red-head’s birthday and he was definitely lapping up all the attention he was getting. I wondered how soon it would be before one or another of them dragged him off to the men’s room for a ‘special’ birthday present.

Bored now, but too lazy to get up and fight the crowds to get to the door, I closed my eyes and listened to what I could hear of the music. Believe it or not I was starting to doze off despite the heat and the noise. My eyes snapped open when I heard someone say, “You look like you need this.”

“Like a hole in the head,” I started to say before actually looking at the man standing there. So I modified it to, “Like, yes I do. It’s hot in here.” He was tall, I’d guess six one, six two, with those kind of amazing hazel eyes that are almost green with gold centers, rather than being a blend. I swallowed hard as I took the glass of water.

“I agree. Hot and crowded.” He smiled and it lit up his face, which wasn’t a good thing for me because I could feel myself reacting.

“Do you…? May I join you?” he asked me in a tone of voice both hesitant and interested.

And against my better judgment I nodded. Why, I had no idea. Since I’d come to this city I’d only done that once before, with a creep who thought he wanted me to play a bondage game with him only to discover he couldn’t get it up once we got to that point. I ended up going home totally frustrated. But now? Well getting to know someone couldn’t really hurt I decided. “Please do,” I told him.

He set his bottle of beer down on the tiny table and the swung the chair next to me around, straddling it with his arms resting on the back. I laughed and his eyebrow rose in question. “That such a ‘male’ thing to do,” I explained.

“Well in case you hadn’t noticed, I am male.”

I almost said that I definitely had noticed then bit back that response. “Everyone here is I guess,” I replied instead.

“No kidding.” He glanced around as if in surprise and then laughed when I looked like I thought he was serious. “I’m teasing you.” He held out a hand. “I’m Quinn by the way.”

Shaking it tentatively I told him my name.

“I don’t think I’ve met a Blair before,” was his response as he held my hand a beat longer than was absolutely necessary. “Are you a native, a visitor or in between?”

“I’ve been here for, wow, a couple of months already.” I thought about that. “Yeah, that long.”

“May I ask what you do?”

“I work at a…restaurant.”

(20) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

We got back to the squad room mid afternoon and spent the rest of the day writing up the never-ending reports. By the time we’d finished I was more than ready to head home. Or to a club to unwind after a hellishly long couple of days.

That thought had merit actually. It had been too long since I’d gone out just for the hell of it. And I knew just the place, a small watering hole that catered to the gay community with good music and a relaxed atmosphere. Not a meat market, although it was quite possible to find a good man there for a one night stand if you were really looking.

I stopped on the way back to my place long enough to pick up some Chinese, which I ate while deciding what to wear, finishing it off after a nice hot shower that did wonders for my tension level.

Dressed and ready to leave I paused long enough to put my small back-up gun, in its IWB holster. Not that I was planning on running into any trouble but I never went anywhere outside my place without carrying. Part of the cop mentality according to an old sergeant of mine. You always needed a gun when you didn’t have it with you.

For a Sunday night, the club was busy. I stood at the bar nursing a beer as I looked the place over. The pocket-sized dance floor was crowded and every table was full. Some even had hangers-on standing beside them as they talked to the men lucky enough to have gotten a seat before them.

“You look interested and bored at the same time,” a voice said from behind me. I turned and chuckled. It was San Pierre, or as he tagged himself—'one of the sexiest bartenders in the city'—and totally off-limits unless you wanted his partner to squash you flat. At six seven and well over two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, San's partner was not someone you wanted to mess with, and going after San would put you on his shit list real fast.

“One of those nights I guess," I replied. "I might be interested—if anyone came close to competing with you. They don’t so I’m bored.” Resting against the bar I finished off my beer and ordered another.

“Guess you haven’t spotted the loner in the corner then.” San Pierre nodded to the back of the room and my eyes widened slightly. Barely visible, because of the table full of happy campers between him and me, was a delicate vision in shades of blue, or at least as much of him as I could see was wearing blue. A pale indigo shirt opened to mid-chest topped by a deep blue leather vest. His hair, so blonde it was almost white, was combed back severely which accented high cheekbones and an arrow straight nose. Around one eye he’d painted a deep blue swoosh whose tip almost touched the hair at his temple.

Now I’ve never been one to favor men in make-up, especially the kind that bordered on goth, but on him that one elegant swoop of color worked.  

“He’s not a regular is he, San?”

“No. This is only the third time I’ve seen him here.” San Pierre patted my arm, adding, “And don’t get your hopes up. No one but no one even gets to buy him a drink. If they try he sends it back untouched.”

“Now that’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

“I’m warning you, Quinn, you’re in for a disappointment if you try.”

I shrugged. “I’ll be no worse off than I am now, will I? What’s his drink of choice?”

“Water with a twist. He’s never ordered anything but that.”

“Good, make one up for me.”

San Pierre’s eyebrows shot up in amused disbelief but he did as I’d asked.