Nail Polish Lust

Once, in that perfect time, that was fading quickly from his memory, when he and Jimmy had been best friends forever, he\'d had a brilliant idea. Jimmy had completely agreed with him on its brilliance. The fact that they had both been thrilled with it meant that in reality it was a moronic idea. The sort of moronic idea that gets you thrown in juvie if your parents aren\'t rich enough to save you.

Thankfully Jimmy\'s parents were rich enough to save both of them from a little destruction and defacement of public property.

Mr. and Mrs. Crane were nice enough to let him finish spending the weekend even after they picked the two of them up from the police department. They really hadn\'t had much choice because Trevor\'s parents had decided to take a last minute trip to the beach six hours away and certainly wouldn\'t cut the trip short just to come get him.

They seemed upset by his parent\'s lack of interest and Trevor couldn\'t figure out why, because it was normal for his family. He just knew that Mrs. Crane kept giving him sympathetic looks whenever they were in the same room after that.

The sympathy didn\'t save him from a lecture just like Jimmy suffered through. And for the rest of that night they listened to the Crane\'s fighting in the living room while they kept the TV volume low and eavesdropped.

That was when he heard the phrase for the first time. Mrs. Crane was yelling it at Mr. Crane. \"_Your_ son…\"

It was something he\'d heard in movies before, the kid does something stupid and the mother tells the father when he comes home, \"Your son did this.\" Or maybe the father would say to the mother, \"What are you going to do about _your_ son.\" It was the prelude to a huge fight; it was disowning your kid for a little while until you worked out your anger enough to take him back. And in the end they always took the kid back; the kid always became _Their_ kid again. Because they loved him too much for it to go any other way.

Trevor\'s mom had never said that. His father never had either. When he was in trouble they just…ignored it and hoped it would go away. Shelled out some money and turned their backs. Went on a vacation to somewhere and left him home alone to deal with it without them.

That was the moment that he realized just how fucked up his family really was. That was when he realized that Jimmy\'s parents loved their son, and his parents thought he was a nuisance that wouldn\'t go away.

The only thing that had kept him sane after that heartbreaking epiphany was the thought that Jimmy loved him. It wasn\'t until much later that he found out that wasn\'t true.

Nowadays Jimmy wasn\'t his solace anymore when things got rough at home. So he was at loose ends on where to go, because his father had finally lowered his paper that morning and the old bastard had _looked_ at him over the top of it. Really looked at him for the first time in ages and had the gall to be disappointed in the son he had never cared for.

They had sat there for what felt like an hour just looking at one another, the same brown Aldridge family eyes meeting one another over the tea and pancakes their cook made for breakfast every morning. Mother was completely oblivious as she blithered on about perfume and pearls, flicking through her shiny slick fashion magazines.

And his father had spoken with the same cool, brisk tone he used when ordering his assistant around on the phone, even though his father rarely spoke at breakfast. And he\'d said, \"Trevor. You\'re going to Harvard when you graduate.\"

For a moment they just stared at one another again, his father obviously not through yet. And he was too numb to say anything; because it wasn\'t a coincidence that Harvard was on the other side of the country. It just figured his parents would want to stick him on the opposite coast to the one he had grown up on.

\"I think law would be the right major for you.\" Then, calmly as he had spoken, the man had raised the paper again and went back to reading the Wall Street Journal while Trevor\'s world crumbled down around his ears.

Law. His father\'s profession. Harvard was his father\'s college. And damn it, when he turned eighteen he didn\'t want to continue on to be his father\'s fucking shadow.

But there were more reasons he didn\'t want to go. Reasons like the fact that Harvard meant giving up his writing, it meant going all the way to the other coast to live, it meant putting himself through hell for a degree he didn\'t want, it meant losing the dream he had of going to UCLA for an English major, it meant losing himself.

The only thing that kept him from snarling exactly what he thought of that idea was the fact that if he didn\'t go, he lost any chance in hell he had of his parents ever loving him. Ever acknowledging him. And he\'d been fighting for that all his life, giving up parts of himself along the way for a dream that was never realized.

He graduated a month after his birthday, that gave him a little over six months to choose between losing his sanity or losing his family.

A few hours later and plenty of bleak research into exactly what a law degree meant, he found himself sitting on the brick half-wall that circled the front of Trader Hills Apartments, waiting for Dan to get home from work. Because he didn\'t have anywhere else to go, no one else to turn to. And Dan would be another of the things he\'d lose if he wanted to keep his family.

***
If he never saw the color red again for the rest of his life he\'d be a happy man. Though Dan had to admit, while looking at a puddle of blood and gobbets of other things soaking the Henry family\'s snowy white carpet, that blood wasn\'t necessarily just red, more of a black really. It was red when it was smeared, like it was on the sunny yellow walls of the Master bedroom, the abstract art of a madman.

It was hard to look at it and realize that the seemingly innocent liquid staining the bedroom was the same stuff running through your own veins. Hard to realize that it could easily be your blood pooling on the floor, your body lying sprawled undignified and almost unidentifiable on the bed. Who would know? To the naked eye, all blood looked the same.

They had three more murders in one day; likely by the same group because there was no way one man could have done all of this in one night, it would take at least two, but his bet was on three, it would fit with the theme of the whole thing. This time instead of three separate murders of a single person like before, the bastards were doing entire families. Families of three.

The number meant something but so far no one in the department had done more than throw wild theories out into the air. The Feds were coming in a couple days to get in on things, and they\'d promised to have a profiler in tow. Hopefully it\'d help.

He\'d already thrown out his ideas; that the killers were much more organized than they had been before, that the third killer might be a newcomer and therefore the reason for the better organization. It still wasn\'t enough to go on.

With a shallow sigh, unwilling to take too deep a breath with the smell of blood and other worse things heavy in the air, he turned to find Greg. He\'d been at this since four in the morning, and night was well underway. It was time for him to go home, maybe coax his appetite back to life since he never ate breakfast and had skipped lunch and dinner, surviving off bad 7-11 coffee most of the day.

Greg looked as exhausted as he felt, and gave him a weak grin when he touched his shoulder, drawing the brunette\'s attention away from the contents on the dresser, \"Time to go?\"

Dan nodded, unwilling to speak because he knew if he did he\'d snap and Greg didn\'t deserve the brunt of his temper.

Greg nodded back and carefully replaced the diary he\'d been flipping through, taking one last look at the framed photos decorating a few shelves beside the door of a happy smiling family, parents arms draped around their fragile three-year-old girl. The girl was wearing a little yellow-checkered summer dress with little white flowers on the hem, she was holding a pink stuffed bunny almost as big as she was.

His partner looked away from the photos with a grimace, visibly shrugging it off. \"Do you want to spend the night with us? Lisa\'s been asking after you and little Marie should see you more so she can get to know her Godfather.\"

He snorted and shook his head no, remembering how he\'d crashed on Greg and Lisa\'s couch a few times in the pre-Denise and pre-baby Marie times after a long day, unwilling to go back to an empty apartment. Lying awake in the cool darkness of their tiny house listening to his partner make love to his wife in the next room, wishing he had someone to go home to like that. He didn\'t feel like revisiting that right now, no matter how much he wanted to play with the baby.

Thankfully his partner didn\'t push. \"Alright but I won\'t take no for an answer for Saturday, we\'re doing the American dream thing, BBQ, beer and football. You\'re coming. Right? Nod because you\'re coming.\"

He nodded obediently not sure yet if he was being sincere or just keeping his partner happy as he slid into the passenger seat of Greg\'s old Pontiac. Greg flipped on the radio to some forgettable light rock station and rambled on about baby Marie, his favorite topic ever since she was born. Dan didn\'t really pay attention to what was said, but just hearing someone\'s voice helped him forget the horror they were leaving behind. It was one of the things that made their partnership so good, Greg calmed down by talking, and Dan calmed down by listening.

The ride blurred into a stream of passing lights and the soothing murmur of Greg\'s deep voice. He remembered, absently, the short time he\'d had something of a crush on his partner. Thankfully, the feelings had turned platonic after being around the other man long enough. Greg really wasn\'t his type, too old, too jittery, too straight, and too controlling. It was good in a friendship though and great for work.

He wondered if the friendship was strong enough for Greg to accept that he wasn\'t exactly the perfectly normal heterosexual he\'d presented himself as. Maybe.

Kevin, Greg\'s brother, was about as openly gay as you could get and his friend seemed accepting of it, even though he had made a few crude jokes when Kev wasn\'t around. That didn\'t mean it would be the same for him, brothers were a little different than someone you had to trust with your life, someone who shared the shower with you at the gym on Thursdays.

Greg had to shake him before he realized the car had stopped. With a wry smile he blinked and looked around, dimly wondering how long it would have taken him to realize he was home on his own.

\"Get some sleep Dan, I\'ll be back to pick you up at six tomorrow.\"

Dan grunted agreeably before he dragged himself out of the car, stumbling a bit on his way to his apartment. He had his keys out, ready to be inserted into the lock before he noticed the kid, leaning against the door blocking the doorknob with his body. A tired smile graced Trevor\'s face, worry lines etched deep in his brow.

And it surprised him, but not as much as it should. Because all weekend long Trevor had been obliviously peppering hints about his family, about how Beaver Cleaver it wasn\'t. Dan had figured that meant the kid would be showing up soon if only to escape the tension that was likely driving him nuts at home. He hadn\'t been expecting soon to mean the very next night, but that was okay.

He liked it; he needed human contact after a day like today, and he\'d been sorry to see the kid go yesterday. His body was certainly all in favor, some parts making their pleasure at seeing Trevor very obvious.

They stood still, facing off silently. Trevor blocking the door, exuding silent misery, Dan just enjoying the way the walkway light cast deep shadows across the boy\'s handsome face adding a bit of mystery to the normally friendly open features. It was enticing enough that he risked leaning in for a kiss after casting a quick look around the quiet apartment complex.

Trevor\'s lips parted easily under his own with a soft sigh, kissing back with a sweetness that was exactly what he wanted at that moment. After all the death tonight he wanted it sweet and slow and to last forever, or at least as close as they could manage.

The boy was twining around him like a vine, seeming to need this the same way Dan did, every movement languid and unhurried, as he worked towards pressing their bodies together so not a bit of space was between them. Their mouths parted, Dan taking a deep shaky breath, staving off panic and hunger and something even harder to name that was pressing and clawing at his soul, threatening to steal him away from the present into dark thoughts that had no place here.

He fought it for only a few seconds before Trevor began to line his throat with kisses so soft that to feel them at all he had to concentrate on only the soft press of lips to skin, forgetting all else. The black at the edges of his mind dissolved away, and at that moment in time, everything he was, was Trevor.

Nothing else existed except the black hair brushing against his chin, hot breath ghosting over his collarbone. It wasn\'t love, just need, and a bone deep loneliness his tedious marriage had only pounded deeper into the marrow. But it was close to love, close enough for now.

Trevor\'s husky whisper was strangely fragile in the cool night air, murmuring a plea to go inside.

So he stepped away from the embrace and gently moved Trevor a step to the side so he could unlock the door. As he watched the boy walk in, with a familiarity borne from a weekend spent lounging around the tiny apartment, he realized that the dark-haired teenager looked right there. With him.

***

He could sense that Dan was in his mood, that same melancholy place where your skin and your mind and your heart are so sensitive that everything hurts. Hurts so bad that only the most insubstantial caress was bearable. Where the need to belong to _someone_ burned hard and bright in your chest, and you accepted the flimsiest of illusions to put the fire out. Even though you know later, when you pull out the memories to peruse at leisure, the pretence of love you\'re accepting now will hurt like a dagger in the back. Because you need the real thing. And you know this isn\'t really love.

But maybe this time it wouldn\'t hurt so bad later to accept the pretense…because he\'d never felt so close to that frivolous thing called love as he did with Dan. Which was good, because later when he really did fall in love with someone he would be able to recognize the real thing.

The strange thing was he felt peaceful now and after the desperation he\'d felt that morning he hadn\'t thought it\'d be possible. After he spent hours waiting outside the door, emotions ricocheting between anger, sadness, anxiety and a hundred subtle shades of all three, he had even less hope of ever feeling calm again.

But now Dan was there, with his fragile blue eyes, shaking hands, and fake love and Trevor was okay. Because he knew Dan felt worse than he did, and sick as that was, it steadied him.

The apartment was dark when he walked inside, and Dan left it dim, only turning on the light over the oven. His lover stayed in the kitchen, a lost expression on his face as he stared around like the old white cabinets and battered sink were completely new and unexpected. And Trevor knew he was hungry, could hear Dan\'s stomach growling from where he stood by the door. But Dan didn\'t look like he\'d be doing anything about it anytime soon on his own.

So he cleared his throat, and murmured, \"Sit down, I\'ll fix you something.\"

Dan looked at him, still lost. Trevor already hated that expression on this man, because Dan was the ruthlessly capable sort. He was the sort that probably waded into impossible situations and straightened them out through sheer force of will and cynical dark humor.

What the hell had he seen today to make him lose that? Trevor didn\'t want to know.

So he didn\'t ask, just led the redhead to one of the barstools and sat him there and went to find his lover something simple to make.

His lover. They\'d spent one weekend together and he was already feeling proprietary.

Part of it came from knowing that no matter when he showed up here Dan would let him in. Part was his ability to read people, giving him a loose knowledge of how Dan\'s mind worked that so far hadn\'t been wrong. And the rest was another Aldridge family trait, the conviction that if you wanted it, it was yours, a trait seemingly as genetic as his brown eyes. It made family reunions hell.

He heard a creak behind him as he hunted through nearly empty cabinets, and glanced back to find Dan had turned in his seat to rest his elbows on the counter, face buried in his hands. Every line of his body was a declaration of misery. It made his heart ache and he wished for the talent to be able to sketch it. Ignoring the impulse to touch the other man, try to comfort him, he turned back to the cabinet giving Dan his privacy.

It took some intense searching but he returned victorious with a dusty can of chicken soup and went to explore the fridge for something to go with it. Bologna; a sandwich then, gross but good enough in a pinch.

It felt good to be taking care of someone, to have someone need him like this. He wasn\'t doing much, just making a very crappy dinner, but it was enough. Being needed wasn\'t going to last, Dan was self-sufficient and there really wasn\'t much he could offer that couldn\'t be found from someone else easier. But it was nice for now. Different.

For the first time in his life Trevor felt like an adult. Responsible. And if this were what it meant to grow up, maybe it wouldn\'t be half as bad as it had looked this morning.

He was smearing mayo on bread while keeping an eye on unnaturally yellow soup, wondering if he\'d ever had chicken soup quite that color before, when Dan broke the oppressive silence. \"Talk.\" He sounded harsh, maybe a bit angry, troubled.

Glancing back at the hunched shoulders he started talking, voice quiet, scratchy from only speaking maybe ten words all day. Before he even realized he was going to do it, he was telling Dan about that morning, about the things that had been sliding through his thoughts all day. His fears, his desires, his anger.

It was easy to talk about when no one was looking back at him. Easy to spill everything to a near stranger he\'d slept with a few times. When he was finished with both the rant he was on and the food he found, it was easy to face Dan, because he wasn\'t going to pat him on the head and give him false sympathy; if he thought he was being an idiot, the redhead would tell him.

Dan treated him like an equal, not like a child to be humored. Even though the bastard did call him \'kid\' most of the time. It was one of the reasons he had come here tonight instead of a club.

But after Trevor set the bowl of soup and the sandwich down in front of his lover he suddenly felt awkward. Not so much because of what he\'d told Dan but because he realized that maybe the man was irritated that he had vented on him. Maybe Dan just didn\'t want to hear any of it, after all the only reason they even knew one another was because they had both wanted fucked. It didn\'t exactly make for a deep emotional bond or well…caring.

So he stood there suddenly uncertain what to do with himself, feeling stretched thin and clumsy in his own body.

Dan glanced up and kicked the chair beside him, and grunted, \"Sit. Stop staring.\"

It broke the tension, somewhat, because the Neanderthal act was kind of…cute and silly at the same time. He slid into the chair, thigh pressed against Dan because the counter was barely long enough to handle two people. \"Am I-. I mean-\" He hesitated, what the hell was he trying to apologize for anyway? If Dan didn\'t want to hear it well…screw him, \"Nevermind.\"

A heavy sigh from Dan and he glanced up from staring at the chipped counter to find his lover glaring at him, half eaten sandwich still held in his hands. Then the redhead leaned forward and kissed him, the same slow melting kiss they\'d shared against the front door, only this time it was baloney flavored.

Trevor found himself wishing he\'d put a little more effort into finding something other than baloney to fix, because he hated the taste of it. But then Dan\'s hand was on his thigh, stroking, kneading. Working its way up the inside of his leg. And really when your lover\'s hand was there who gave a fuck about baloney?

Then Dan pulled away, leaving him staring, a confused muddle of arousal. The redhead just started eating again like nothing had happened mechanically chewing each bite like it was a chore. And the entire time icy blue eyes glared at him mildly as if daring him to start doing something moronic again.

He couldn\'t help but smile crookedly under that threatening glower. One corner of Dan\'s mouth quirked up in response, and the glare went down a few notches to something almost friendly again.

***
Much later, when they were twined around one another, naked and sweaty, on wrinkled sheets Trevor nuzzled Dan\'s shoulder and whispered, \"I\'m spending the night.\"

Dan tightened his arms around him, hesitating, not quite sure what role to play, since he knew there was no way in hell Trevor was going to make it to whatever school he went to on time if he stayed the night. Listening to the boy talking about college and high school and graduating had brought home how young the kid was in a way he hadn\'t acknowledged before. Finally he settled on ignoring it, and shrugged. \"Alright.\"

Trevor relaxed against him minutely and curled closer, sliding one leg up to drape around his hips in a way that was going to be extremely uncomfortable in an hour. He didn\'t say anything, just kept trailing his fingers up and down the knobs of Trevor\'s spine.

He wasn\'t sure if he should say anything…but he\'d risk it. Turning his head the few inches needed to nuzzle the mop of black hair he murmured, \"You should try it.\"

The kid tensed, knowing exactly what he was talking about, but didn\'t say anything.

So he continued, bumbling on, wishing he\'d had the intelligence to just keep his mouth shut, \"It\'s independence. And you can write without a degree.\"

Trevor\'s fingers tapped against his skin agitatedly, \"Yeah. But I can\'t be myself anymore.\"

\"You\'re always going to be yourself, Kid.\" He smiled faintly to himself, humor returning as his mood improved, \"Besides you\'d be sexy in a suit and tie, without all that shit in your hair.\"

A stunned silence then Trevor was pulling away from the embrace to look at him, eyes dancing, teeth flashing in the dim light. And Dan was glad to see the despair had lifted from the boy\'s eyes at least for the moment.

\"Let me get this straight, you want me to go through seven or so years of hell in law school because I\'d look sexy in a suit?\"

\"Don\'t forget the briefcase.\" Dan grinned feeling lighter than he had in a long time, and added helpfully, \"Black leather. Since you\'re such a bad ass.\"

The kid was staring at him like he\'d grown another head, and started laughing, he finally gasped, \"Black leather briefcases aren\'t the same as black leather _pants_.\"

\"No, but they\'re a hell of a lot easier to get rid of than the pants.\"

Trevor shook his head, and slid back down to rest against him, body still shaking with giggles, \"Jesus you\'re strange sometimes. Maybe I\'ll come over in a suit one of these days, see how hot it gets you.\"

Dan shook his head, voice sorrowful \"It wouldn\'t be the same without the briefcase…and the degree. I always wanted to fuck a slutty Harvard grad. I\'ve heard they\'re the sweetest piece of ass you can get.\"

That earned him a playful smack on the shoulder, and more helpless laughter, \"You\'re such a fucking liar Hunter.\"

And then Trevor\'s mouth found his in an enthusiastic sloppy kiss that effectively stopped any more smartass comments he might have made. He found he didn\'t much mind. Once the kiss ended, they both settled down again by unspoken agreement, and this time fell into a much more peaceful sleep than either of them had expected to get.

---
Comments: Another chapter done. Whew. Thanks ever so much to the people that helped me out with this chapter, my oneechan for checking my grammar even though she\'s busier than hell, and Alle and Sharon Tang for going over the fic and giving me their opinions on it, without which this would be so much worse than it is.

FB:

Wolf: I definitely plan to continue *G* Thanks for reviewing I really appreciate it and I\'m glad you like it

ThePQ4: *laughs* There\'s more! Soon! Like right now! But the next chapter I can almost guarantee will take longer to be posted, things are hectic right now.

Jiro: Ok. Thanks ;)

fiSH: Wow it\'s good enough to print out, cool. Thanks for reviewing. I hope you like this chapter as much as the others.