Toronto Tales 1 - Cop Out (10 page)

“Look, I’m sorry if I pried. It’s none of my business… or Jen’s.” Sheepish was an odd look on such a large, imposing man.

“No, no, it’s not that. Ben never asked me about dating and stuff.” Or anything else non-job related, for that matter, but he didn’t want Simon to know how much that still bothered him. And Ben sure as hell never tried to set him up. “And my brother said Christa, was, well, into me.”

Simon took his gaze off the road to glance at Kurt. “Oh, man. Why didn’t you tell me you and Christa—”

“No, not me and Christa.” God, this was fucking embarrassing. “I just noticed she’s overly interested in any conversation about me dating. Dating never works out well for me, and when it all goes to hell, I don’t want to work that closely with the girl, you know? I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“That’s nice of you. But I’m sorry things didn’t go well with Tiffany.”

“If you knew, why did you ask?” Dear God, had Tiffany spilled every single embarrassing bean for Jen? He’d never had such a humiliating experience before.

Simon laughed. “I’m a detective, same as you. You’d probably be a lot more optimistic about dating if things had gone well. Honestly, Tiffany’s not my favorite person. I find her a little much, but I thought you went for that type, since you made a date for the next night.”

No, Tiffany wasn’t really his type, but he often had a hard time saying no to pushy women. Was that because he was so used to his forceful mother and sisters? Or was it just easier, somehow, to give in?

“But that’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it. I understand.”

Suddenly, he had a flash of how reticent he must sound to Simon. The last thing he wanted was to end up in another stilted, uncomfortable, and—he had to admit it now—friendless relationship with his work partner.

“Simon, I’m still a little fucked up.”

Simon frowned at the road, and Kurt realized his words could be taken in a number of different ways. Hell, he’d probably used the exact same words in college when he’d gone to class in the morning, drunk from the night before.

“Sorry, I need to explain. I don’t know what Inspector Nadar told you about Ben, but I was thankful I didn’t have to explain about him to you. I mean, I went to see the shrink about his death, all part of my return to work, but a bunch of stuff… well… I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.”

Simon parked the car. Were they there already?

Dark brown eyes gazed at him, serious and sympathetic, also unexpected for his easy-going partner. “Job comes first, eh? But hold that thought. We’re going out for a beer tonight, and we’re going to pick this up. Because you’re hurting, and I don’t want that for my partner or my friend.”

Acid boiled in Kurt’s gut. He really didn’t want to talk about this, but he had a feeling Simon wasn’t going to let him out of it. His new partner was nothing if not stubborn. And he liked to talk—a lot.

T
HEY
’
D
managed to knock off at a reasonable hour, and Kurt

reluctantly followed Simon to their new favorite watering hole, the Beer Bar. Kurt had never gone out for a drink with Ben, but he’d gone out with a few of the other detectives, and this was the place Simon liked best. One night, he’d have to take Simon to Finn’s. He’d love it.

Instead of bellying up to the bar, which gave the best view of the televisions, Simon ordered a couple of beers and weaved around tables to one of the booths in the back.

“This okay? You’ll be able to talk here?”
Kurt slid into the booth. “It’s fine, Simon, thanks.”

He toyed with the condensation on his glass, tracing patterns in the wetness. Simon sat quietly, waiting.

Begin at the beginning, his mother would often say. After a deep breath, he did just that. “I never went for a drink with Ben. He never asked me about my dates, or anything about my family. We never had a meal together if we weren’t working. And I thought we were friends, if not exactly typical, but I didn’t question it. Ben was a good cop. I learned a lot from him. But I realized after he died that I didn’t know him at all. We weren’t friends, and I found out some things that made me wonder if I’d even like him outside of the job.”

Gulping at his beer, Kurt couldn’t bring himself to look at Simon. What would he see in his eyes? Just saying the words aloud made him feel so damned disloyal. And he hated it.

Simon huffed out a breath, and Kurt dared a quick look. There wasn’t any censure in Simon’s expression.

“I’m sorry, Kurt. We can’t always get along with our partner, but I think you and me are a good fit, you know? Ben may have been a good cop, but there are plenty of good cops who aren’t necessarily the best people. You can’t feel responsible for that.”

“But… but… I feel so disloyal.” He dropped his gaze again.

“What, you’ve never known anyone to ask for a transfer? Ask for a new partner? People don’t all get along. How can you feel disloyal? I haven’t heard one bad thing about Ben, which means you haven’t told anyone about your issues… even when you probably should have. I think your sense of loyalty is more overdeveloped than most. And that’s why this is so painful for you.”

Really? Some of the knotted tension in his chest melted away. “Uh, thanks,” he muttered.

“Feel free to tell me anything. Because I’ll probably end up telling you more than you want to know about me. I want to be friends with my partner. In fact, I’d say we’re already friends.”
Kurt relaxed further. He took a leisurely sip of his beer.

“So, anything you want to get off your chest about Tiffany?”

Oh, God. Tiffany. He didn’t really want anyone to know about it, but he didn’t know who else to talk about it with. His partnership with Ben affected him even more than he’d thought. He’d bottled up a lot of

his personal stuff. Even if he were inclined to put up with the teasing he could expect from his brothers, he’d stopped confiding in them a long time ago, his professional relationship spilling over into his personal ones. Fuck. If Ben were still alive, Kurt might even punch him. He sure as hell wasn’t telling any of the other guys on the force about this, and Davy probably couldn’t offer an opinion.

He lifted a shoulder, and he really couldn’t bear to look Simon in the eye. “We went back to her place. We both thought we were going to have sex, but I… I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t want a one night stand? There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, I mean I couldn’tgetitup.” He spoke the last four words fast, blurring them together in the hopes of hiding their true import. Sure, he’d heard it happened to guys sometimes, but he’d never had an issue before.

“What? Oh…,” Simon said as he deciphered Kurt’s words. “Hey, that can happen.”
God, he was such a loser. “Ever happen to you?”

“Well, once when I was really drunk.”

Of course. Kurt grimaced. He didn’t even have that excuse. He’d drunk more now than he had the night of his date. Dinner had been far too quick, Tiffany apparently eager to get him back to her place. But there hadn’t even been a twinge of interest below his belt.

“Then again, if it were Tiffany, I’d probably have the same problem. Man, she can be really annoying.”

 

Kurt had to smile at Simon’s transparent effort to cheer him up. “So, nothing? At all?” Simon asked after taking a sip of his own beer. Kurt shook his head.

“Why’d you go out with her, then? I mean, she’s nice looking, but like I said, annoying.”
“I wanted there to be something. Anything.”
Simon looked thoughtful. “When was the last time there was…

something?”

When was the last time? Sex was often more work and less reward than using his own hand. But then, he didn’t even think he’d used his hand since… since…. “Before Ben died.” Oh, holy shit. Almost four months. At first, he’d assumed it was the painkillers. But he’d not been on those in weeks. In fact, the closest he’d come was in Davy’s fucking shower. Maybe he should have rubbed one out, since apparently it was a rare commodity.

Simon nodded like he’d just revealed the secrets of the universe. “Now, I’m not a psychologist or anything, but everyone grieves in their own way. I’m guessing losing interest in, uh, sex is part of your mind’s healing process. Now that you’re thinking about it again, and wanting it, it’ll come back. Don’t rush it. I’ll have Jen lay off the set-ups, because I think she has a list of women in mind for you.”

Well, that was possibly the most embarrassing thing he’d ever had to say or hear, and judging by Simon’s pink cheeks, he hadn’t escaped entirely unscathed. And he did feel surprisingly lighter. He’d almost died, he’d found out some very unsettling things about himself and his partner, and there was the overarching stress of knowing the man who’d killed Ben was still walking the streets free. Putting pressure on to date was exacerbating the issue. Simon was right.
It
would be back soon enough, and he could wait until then to dive back into the shark-infested dating pool.

“Thanks, man. I feel a little better.”

 

“Good. Want to come watch the game on Thursday? I promise it’ll just be you, me, and Jen.”

“No, thanks, I have plans that night. But I appreciate the offer.” It had been too long since he’d been able to unwind and watch a game with Davy. Despite the recent weirdness, Davy’s place was comfortable and relaxing—he missed hanging out with his friend.

Simon held his glass up in a toast, and Kurt clinked his glass. Talk turned to less personal topics as they finished their beer.
K
URT
brought snacks again, but Davy had frozen several servings of cabbage rolls, and he offered those for dinner. The first inning had barely started by the time they finished eating and doing the dishes.

Davy curled up on the couch, legs tucked up to his chest. “Are you cold? If you don’t want to fix the thermostat, why don’t you grab a blanket?”

Without a word, Davy scampered up and scurried into one of the bedrooms. Within seconds, he’d returned with a wildly colored quilt, one Kurt thought he recognized from the closet of hidden treasures.

There was a sudden warmth to the sterile room that had nothing to do with temperature. Davy must have felt it, too, because he smirked at him.

“Rooting for the Jays again?” Davy asked.

 

“Of course, why?” For a change, Davy might stay awake for the whole game.

 

“I’m rooting for the Yankees today.”

Kurt clutched his chest as though mortally wounded. “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
The devilish look was softened and tempered by the quilt, making him look like an impish child. The shrug was muffled too. “Dunno. Because they’re better.”

“They are not.”

Davy rolled his eyes. “Sure they are.” Okay, now Davy was being obstinate. Kurt knew it, but it didn’t stop him from rising to Davy’s bait.

“Fine. What do you want to bet they’ll lose?”
“Loser buys beer for the house for the next month.”
“You’re on.”

Kurt never had so much fun watching a game with someone rooting for the other team. Every time the Yankees did something well, Kurt almost expected Davy to stick out his tongue. He’d seen hints of this playfulness before, but between this and the tomato fight, Davy’s natural feistiness was returning with a vengeance.

The bottom of the ninth, the Yankees scored three runs, giving them the win, and Davy sprang up, quilt forgotten on the couch.

“Oh, yeah. I told you they were better.” Davy’s victory dance was hilarious, but Kurt bit his lip and tackled Davy, wrestling like he would with one of his brothers.

Davy yelped, eyes wide, muscles locked, panic stealing over his face until Kurt laughed and rubbed his knuckles in Davy’s hair. He lay, braced on his arms, over Davy, but no longer restraining him.

“Fine, you win the bet,” Kurt said, pretending to be upset. “This how you act at home with your brothers?”

“Absolutely, if they had the dismal taste to root for someone other than the Jays. But they put up a better fight than you.” He grinned as he said it. Living with three older brothers meant he probably did a lot more roughhousing than most. And he learned how to fight dirty from his three older sisters. Didn’t look like Sandra had taught Davy that, though.

Davy laughed up at him, the sound musical and sweet. Deep, adorable divots appeared on either side of Davy’s mouth. How had he known Davy for this long and never seen the dimples?

His cock swelled and his eyebrows rose. With as much dignity as he could muster, he quickly got up and sauntered as leisurely as he could to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror before dropping his gaze down to his pants. What the fuck was that? Sure, he’d gotten hard from competitive sports before. It happened, small surges of adrenaline. But he couldn’t quite believe his dick chose now to reawaken from its stupor while he held another man down. Then again, maybe if he was starting to feel again, anything could have set him off. Nothing to worry about. Like puberty all over again.

After flushing the toilet and washing his hands, he returned to the living room. Davy had settled back on the couch, after switching the channel over to one of the west coast games and bringing them fresh beers.

Nothing had changed. He sighed in relief and dropped down on the couch for mere minutes when his phone rang. Work, dammit. “Gotta go, Davy.”

 

Davy nodded and cuddled back into the couch, knowing by now

Kurt always made sure the door locked behind him.
“Be safe.”

Kurt wondered, and not for the first time, if Davy said that to Ben every time he got called into work.

G
OD
, the overtime was killing him. He was fucking exhausted. The extended hours had been both good and bad. Good because he’d only had opportunity to visit Davy three times in the month since their bet, and each time he’d been called in to work abruptly and was therefore able to put off thinking about any potential awkwardness. But on the other hand, he missed hanging out with his friend. Simon was becoming a good friend, too, but Kurt couldn’t figure out why that wasn’t good enough.

His cell rang, an unfamiliar number on the screen. If he wasn’t so fucking bored, he would have let it go to voicemail.

“O’Donnell,” he barked.
“Is this Kurt?”
He didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes.”
“Oh, hi. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Jon, Davy’s