Nail Polish Lust

He was back in his windowsill, warm breeze wafting around him, ruffling strands of his hair, tossing it in his eyes then blowing it away. The sun was going down, turning the horizon pink and purple and it would have been beautiful enough to paint if he had any aptitude with a paintbrush. He thought about sketching it in the journal lying open in his lap, but he didn\'t have enough time or talent to do it justice. So instead he turned back to the book, tapping the end of his pen against his lips.

His journal was a black leather bound affair with pure white pages edged in gold. It was at the same time elegant and professional, as well as cold and impersonal. It was his father\'s gift to him on his fifteenth birthday. On the inside of the back cover was the name of the company his father worked at, embossed in silver fancy script. Every time he looked at it he was reminded how lucky he was to have gotten anything at all.

The gold edging was beginning to fade now, worn away by nervous fingers and there were very few pages left bare of his heavy-handed script. He went back to filling up one of the few blank pages left with a new poem and a few random thoughts, his fingers gently brushing against a little sketch in one corner of last Friday\'s lover\'s sardonic smile.

Daniel Hunter was John\'s real name. Something he had discovered while rummaging through a kitchen drawer for something with the man\'s address on it so he could call a cab. He had also discovered that he lived at 1248 West Canista Lane, Trader Hills Apartments, number 3A. Was a homicide detective in the city police force, with a badge number that started with a one. And was plagued by the same goofy looking sort of license photo that showed up on Trevor\'s own learner\'s permit.

And now Daniel Hunter wouldn\'t get out of his head. Not even after an entire week. He could still rattle off his home address by heart and it had nothing to do with the fact that he\'d had to repeat it three times before he\'d found a cab service that would come all the way out to West Canista Lane to pick him up. What were you supposed to do when you became obsessed with a one-night stand and wanted another night or three?

With a morose sigh he doodled in another corner of the page. It was Friday again, and he was going to have to leave soon because his parents were having another dinner party. This time he was going to have to stay out all weekend because the dinner party was going to turn into a bridge party on Saturday and a wedding anniversary night on the town on Sunday.

His duffel was packed and by the door, and he was dressed to go out, a little more conservative than usual. Black jeans, black Nine Inch Nails t-shirt, collar and boots. No makeup. But it didn\'t really matter since he didn\'t think he\'d be going to Rivers street like he normally would. He was sick of the club scene for now. He really didn\'t feel like drinking, or smoking, or dancing, or getting fucked by some stranger in the back room.

Maybe he\'d go to the arcade, he hadn\'t done that in ages…just lose himself in something obnoxiously bright like Mario Bros. Because the arcade he went too hadn\'t gotten new games in years. And when it closed he could find himself a cheap motel for a few nights and stare at some anonymous soulless ceiling until he fell asleep. Ugh.

What he really wanted was to have a friend to watch a movie with and throw popcorn at and just be. But he\'d screwed that all up a long time ago.

The doorbell shook him out of his thoughts and like clockwork his mother stuck her head in his room with a frazzled expression that she\'d soon soothe away with a dozen mimosa\'s, \"Trevor honey, that\'s the guests, you were supposed to already be gone.\" She was getting upset he could tell, because the vein in her forehead was beginning to throb, visible even through the makeup she slathered on in the morning to hide her wrinkles.

He glanced at the sketch in his book then stood to tuck it away in his bookshelf before shouldering his duffel. \"Don\'t worry mom I\'ll climb down the fire escape and call a cab on the cell.\" He leaned in and gave her the expected kiss on the cheek when she tapped it with one pearly pink nail.

\"Thanks sweetheart, have fun at Jimmy\'s.\"

Trevor smiled for her, \"I will.\" But he might as well have not bothered to answer. She had already forgotten him before the last word was out of her mouth. Turning for the living room to greet her guests, the sequined pink abomination she wore that was posing as a cocktail dress swaying around her legs.

He was too used to it to let it bother him much, he just climbed out his window and made his way down the wrought iron staircase to the alley, then to the street. Cell phones were useful things because it meant he didn\'t have to deal with the guest of the day eyeing his hair and clothes disgustedly before giving his parents sympathetic looks while he used the phone in the living room. He was pretty sure none of his Dad\'s partners had sons that did anything wilder than sneaking a cigarette every once in awhile, and if they did they\'d probably get shipped off to some military school to straighten them out. So in a way he was glad that his parents ignored him. At least he didn\'t get punished.

With that in mind he sat on the front steps waiting for the cab, tapping his foot against the brick walk, people watching. Older married couples mostly occupied their building; _rich_ older married couples. The kind that had French poodles named Fifi with little blue sweaters and cats that wore more fur than any animal alive except their owners. It was amusing to watch them make the effort to walk as far away from him as possible when they caught sight of him, clutching their purses in a deathgrip.

He was tempted to make faces at them to see if they\'d have a heart attack on the spot but held back because then the doorman would chase him off. So to pass the time he pulled a little sketchbook out of his duffel and set to work making up a new tattoo to go on his back. Maybe a grim reaper. He wasn\'t sure, but he was enjoying creating a complicated background of spiderwebs and dewdrops for whatever it would be.

The cab had to honk to get his attention he was so absorbed in drawing. Startled he stared at the white cab with the blue lettering on the side for a moment before grabbing his duffel and hurrying to slide inside. The address rolled easily off his tongue and he didn\'t realize until the cab jerked into motion that the address he\'d given hadn\'t been for a hotel…it\'d been for West Canista Lane.

***

Nothing was on tv, but then these days nothing ever was that was worth the time and trouble to watch. Not that he ever really bothered to watch tv just listened to it while he did sit-ups with his feet tucked under the couch or read. He didn\'t like silence; he was used to being around people, but since the divorce he hadn\'t felt like company.

Things were starting to change though because today he wanted more than just the television set to keep him company. Just someone in the room with him, another living breathing human being would be enough. For a moment he considered going to a bar somewhere and picking someone up but…it was too dangerous to his job and his reputation. And while sex would be nice, it wasn\'t exactly what he wanted.

Ever since he\'d let that kid stay here he\'d felt real loneliness for the first time in months. Enough that he was considering calling his partner up and inviting him over for beer and a football game like they used to do when he was still married.

But he knew Greg was occupied; he had a new baby that was keeping him busy and deliriously happy and…really Daniel didn\'t want to get in the way of that. Even though he knew Greg would come over if he called, the man was worried for him. He was a good friend and Dan wasn\'t about to take advantage of that friendship by dragging him away from his family. Besides it\'d piss Greg\'s wife off, and Lisa was not a woman you wanted mad at you.

So he was spending the weekend alone, working. Working through his time off was quickly becoming habit for him. Today he sat on the floor in the space he\'d made by pushing the dented coffee table up against the wall. A sea of files and papers and pictures of blood and death surrounded him on all sides, pieces to a puzzle that he hadn\'t figured out yet. It was the third murder in as many days by what was starting to look like the same man.

It wasn\'t really his case; Berkeley and Rodriguez had handled the very first murder so the whole string was being put in their hands. But he\'d been the one to work on the second and felt like he should be in on this somewhat. If he could just figure out something useful to help them along.

A soft knock interrupted his musing and he glanced at the door irritably, maybe whoever it was would go away if he just ignored it. Daniel looked back down at the file in front of him, but before he could get anywhere the knock came again louder this time. Insistent and obviously not going away any time soon.

Grumbling he lurched to his feet and hopped across the papers to get to the door. He growled to himself while he opened it, \"This had better-\" The threat froze in his throat when he finally saw who it was. The kid. What the hell was his name…Tony…Trey…Trevor. That was it. Trevor.

Trevor stood outside his door looking sheepish and hopeful and very very young without his makeup and in a tight t-shirt and snug jeans. He looked pretty damn edible too, but Daniel was carefully not thinking that. Really what he was thinking was that if the kid did one thing to get him in trouble he was going to strangle that smooth red-collared throat.

\"What the hell do _you_ want?\" His voice was as harsh as he could make it and he was pleased when the kid winced.

\"I er…you see I couldn\'t-.\" Trevor looked off balance, stumbling over himself and getting nowhere, \"I wanted to-. To see you….\" He trailed off weakly giving him a pleading look.

Daniel snorted, \"Look, in case you didn\'t know, a one night stand means one night and then I don\'t see your ass again. Got it?\"

Trevor\'s expression hardened and he spoke sharp and defensive, \"Yeah well you don\'t look like you have anything better to do tonight, so why not let me in?\"

He was a little shocked and tempted, and not just because he wasn\'t getting anywhere with the work he\'d brought home. The kid really did look better without all that makeup on.

The boy seemed to gain confidence when he didn\'t say anything else insulting, and smiled. Not seductively, just a smile, friendly, open, a little hopeful, a little hungry. Trevor moved closer to him, reaching out to touch his stomach brushing bare skin since all he was wearing was a loose pair of sweats. Those slim fingers seemed to burn, a shiver of lust spiked through him, not that he let a bit of that show.

Trevor\'s voice was softer now, a bit husky, not quite his bedroom voice but close enough to tease him with images of the kid spread out on his comforter again, \"C\'mon, I can\'t get you out of my head.\"

He probably would have said more, but Daniel knocked his hand away. \"How\'d you get my address, Kid?\"

Trevor reddened and looked away, squirming like a three year old caught with his hand in the cookie jar; it was a little disconcerting. Enough to dampen his arousal, he liked them young but not…that young. \"I um…wanted to go home and I didn\'t want to wake you up so I kinda dug through your drawer to find something with your address on it. Found your badge. Sorry….\"

He should have been angry, or at least irritated, and he was but at the same time…. Well the kid would be company of a sort that would hold the loneliness at bay. At least that was the only reason he could think of to explain why he took a step back and held the door open for the kid to come in.

Trevor looked surprised but it didn\'t stop him from slipping into his apartment fast as he could, no doubt thinking he\'d get in before Daniel changed his mind. He took his time closing and locking the door, trying to figure out what the hell he thought he was doing. Daniel still didn\'t know the answer when he turned around to find a half naked boy looking at him expectantly, t-shirt dangling from nimble fingers.

Nimble fingers that slowly went to the button of his jeans. The sound of the zip going down shook him out of his daze and Daniel reached out to grab that slim hand before Trevor could push down his jeans. Because once they were down there was no way his control was good enough to stop him from dragging the boy off to bed and that…wasn\'t exactly what he wanted.

Brown eyes stared into his, surprised and uncertain, he could almost see the thoughts running through the kid\'s head, wondering if he\'d misread something, if he was going to get thrown out. Daniel shook his head, \"No; not right now.\" Then he let go and walked past the kid close enough their shoulders brushed on his way to the kitchen.

***

Trevor watched bemused as the older man retreated to the kitchen and slowly zipped his jeans back up. He wasn\'t quite sure what all this meant, but he\'d go with it. He was doing better than he thought he would, he\'d had serious doubts on the cab ride over that he\'d even make it past the door.

Glancing once at his shirt lying in a heap on the floor, he scooped it up and tossed it on top of his duffel bag next to the door. No way was he dressing all the way until he knew for sure they weren\'t going to end up in bed. And he really hoped when Daniel said not right now he meant they were just holding off until later instead of holding off until never. He was pretty sure it was the first choice; the man had been altogether too interested in watching his hands before he\'d stopped him. It was nice to be wanted.

Trevor smiled to himself and picked his way over the mess of papers on the floor to lounge on the couch. At least that had been the plan until he looked down, caught by a flash of red from the corner of his eye, then he was left trying to make sense of a picture that seemed to be washed in the color, all shades of it. Raw meat like…hamburger. But he knew what Daniel did for a living and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that what he was looking at had to be human once. And was that an…eyeball?

Stomach churning uneasily he leaned over a bit, scrutinizing, trying to make sense of what he was looking at even though he knew he\'d be even more sickened by it once he could place it as human. It was like watching a train wreck; you couldn\'t look away until it was done with and nothing but twisted metal lay before you.

He shifted again, oblivious to everything but the picture. Then suddenly it snapped into place like a 3-D puzzle picture, you had to look but not look to see what lay within the gaudy designs. It was a face…a horribly mutilated face.

The triumph he felt at solving the puzzle was quickly swept under a wave of disgust that went straight to his stomach. He\'d never been good with blood and gore; he\'d been one of the first to run from biology class when the teacher had started handing out frogs and pig fetuses for dissection. He could see death in a movie and be fine because he knew it was fake, but this was real, he _knew_ it was real. It was a very big difference, and yet he still couldn\'t look away.

And now he was becoming aware that there were more pictures spread out around the one he was staring at, more red, more confusing snapshots of death. He wasn\'t ready to acknowledge them yet, still caught in the first. Some horrified voice in his head was wondering what could have made the jagged gashes-

Pain. Something hard and cold, and damn it hurt, smacking into his shoulder with dull thud. The impact went all the way to the bone. And he was yelping and clutching his arm, jerking to the side, but his feet shot out from under him on loose papers. The room tilted like crazy as he went over backwards and landed with another painful thud on his ass on the floor, staring up at Daniel\'s shocked face with a dumb expression.

For a moment neither of them moved, the only sound was a metallic noise, and the dull throb of pain in his ears. His eyes automatically tracked it; a beer can, rolling across the floor. That was what had hit him. Then he looked back at Daniel.

Daniel was kneeling beside him now with an apologetic concerned sort of expression, reaching out to touch his shoulder beside where the beer can had hit him, \"That\'s going to bruise. Sorry, I thought you\'d catch it. You okay?\"

Trevor just blinked at him, murmuring a weak, \"Ow.\"

Daniel chuckled and squeezed his shoulder lightly, \"You\'ll make it. What were you-?\" The older man twisted around, eyes catching on the pictures, \"Oh shit, I forgot to put those away.\" He turned all the way around, gathering glossy photos into a rough stack, shoving them into a file folder, out of sight, then he started piling together the rest of the papers on top of it. All the papers that he wasn\'t lying on.

A gentle smack on his thigh, \"Get on the couch will you? Your ass is on everything.\"

And it was strange, but Trevor could see them…well maybe not in love or anything so extreme but living together at least. It was so domestic the easy way Daniel was treating him now, like they had done this a million times before. Still a bit dazed from the picture and the throbbing in his arm he slowly got to his feet and collapsed on the couch, watching the ginger-haired head bend again to his task of gathering up papers, the whole rough stack was shoved up against the wall.

Then the cold beer that Daniel had gotten for himself was pressed into his hand, the lone missile that had struck him was gathered up from it\'s place against the far wall by the bathroom and returned to the kitchen to be traded for a new beer. The couch groaned as the redhead dropped down on the cushion beside him, their thighs touching.

And under the surreal normalcy it was easy to put the picture out of his head, and pop open the beer. He could feel Daniel\'s eyes on him as he took a long gulp and when he lowered the can and glanced over at him, their eyes met and he could see want in the icy depths of those blue eyes.

For a moment he thought he was going to be kissed but Daniel kept his distance just looking him over, studying him almost. \"You okay kid?\"

Trevor nodded, \"Yeah just…yeah I\'m fine.\" He smiled weakly and looked away, nudging the long thigh pressed against his own with his leg, \"Are we really watching golf or are you going to change the channel? Because I\'ve got to tell you, if this is the best thing you can think of to do right now, we\'re going to have to fuck, Daniel.\"

***

He looked up at the tv startled more by the use of his real name than the fact that he had it on the golf channel. \"Dan.\"

Trevor looked up at him puzzled, \"What?\"

\"Everyone calls me Dan or Hunter, not Daniel.\" He leaned forward and snagged the remote off the floor, and just held it, all his interest was focused on the boy.

The boy who wasn\'t even making an attempt to look like he was watching tv, the boy whose arm wormed it\'s way around his shoulders, \"Well…_Dan_, are we going to watch something else or are we going to fuck?\"

Daniel shivered imperceptibly, and turned meeting the boy\'s gaze, letting the lust he felt at the idea of fucking Trevor show in his eyes as they roamed over the half naked body leaning against his own. Lingering over the silky pale skin at his neck that he wanted to lick, the shady dip at the base of the long throat, the flat hard plane of his chest, taut stomach, trail of hair disappearing into low slung jeans. The journey back up was just as leisurely and thorough. By the time their eyes locked again Trevor\'s entire body was begging for it, leaning in closer to him a rosy flush creeping over pale flesh, breath heavy and rough.

Dan smiled slowly and then he deliberately turned back to the television and started flipping through the channels.

The kid made a choked noise and he could feel stunned brown eyes boring a hole into him, \"You know…I was actually hoping you\'d leave it on golf.\" Trevor didn\'t sound so cocky now.

\"I told you, not right now, \" Dan smiled smugly and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, \"I thought we\'d try getting to know one another a little first, male bonding, whatever the hell you want to call it.\"

Trevor scowled and grumpily knocked back the rest of his beer, \"I call it being a damn tease.\"

Dan snorted, \"Shut up, Kid. Watch the show.\" He shoved the remote between the cushions by his side, leaving it on an old Jimmy Stewart movie, not caring if Trevor liked it or not. If the kid wanted to be here so bad he\'d watch whatever he put on.

The channel was doing a marathon, and for four movies they didn\'t say much of anything at all, the tension bleeding out of the room as they became more comfortable with one another. Moving only for another beer or the bathroom, just being.

Before long Trevor\'s lanky body was sprawled over the couch, taking over his thigh for a pillow. He let his hand twine through the thick mop of hair, glancing down during commercials to watch his fingers massage the tender scalp and the back of the boy\'s neck. Every time he looked down Trevor\'s eyes were closed just a bit more than the time before.

Around midnight the kid fell asleep. And Dan didn\'t mind at all, just kept running his hand over the head in his lap, letting his palm shape the skull beneath the silky hair that curled around his fingers like a live thing. Eventually he slept too, fingers still buried in black hair, loneliness eased for the time being.