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Heaven always seemed very far away to Dan Fucks.
Of course, with being the literal embodiment of pleasure, biblical heaven was off the list from the beginning. (That is, if God separates the different parts of the mind in death.) But even small heavens, earthly heavens, seem out of reach, the closest thing being small glasses of oxytocin that are drunk behind closed doors. The last time he can remember being even near it was when that barista smiled at Elias, but he can’t live off of that forever. It was just a small graze of the holy gates, not enough to let him in.
Dan wants it, though. Dan wants, in general, but specifically he wants that: the touch of another person, the laughter, the smiles, the knowledge that they want him too. It was what he was made for, after all. And he knows that he’s necessary for Elias. Perhaps the rest of Mentopolis doesn’t see that, but he does. He’s one of the oldest primal urges; some form of him lives in almost every animal on the planet. That must count for something, right?
So when he steps out in front of the police at Oblongata Station, armed with the knowledge that no one there knows what sex is actually supposed to feel like, he thinks he has a fighting chance. He thinks they will finally listen to him. He shouts, “it’s finally happening!” at them, waving his hands and desperately trying to explain this lie. He expects them to lay down their weapons and leave, but instead his words are met with nightsticks. They rush at him before he has any moment to stop them and they start swinging at him, bruises blooming around his head. He falls to the ground, bloodied and broken, lost in the torrent of cops and their endless violence. His vision darkens around the edges. The lights become blinding. He can barely feel the concrete digging into his back.
Right before his consciousness slips away, he hears the distressed yelling of his companions. The one that rings out the most (that always rings out the most), however, is the voice of Detective Hunch Curio.
“You gotta get him moving! You gotta get him to use the gun!” Hunch shouts, presumably to one of the others manning the switchboard. Dan should have known this was a bad idea. Throwing himself into danger with the loose beginnings of a plan was more of Hunch’s thing. And now his friend will have to watch him bleed out on the ground like a bird shot down from a telephone wire.
He passes out before he can dwell too much on that.
His body lies on the pavement for a while.
It’s silent, at least for him.
Distantly, after a few minutes, he feels somebody pick him up.
Something tells him it’s Hunch.
And then, the visions start.
They’re strange while he’s unconscious. Sugah’s torn apart by the police. His apartment, full of little pleasures, turned upside down. Angels look at him and then look away. Fire spreads through Mentopolis. He tucks Conrad in and says goodnight. Hunch and him stand in front of a cow. “Friends are like steaks.” Elias is in a garden, looking at a tree, a serpent curling around it. Who was Dan; the apple or the snake?
The final thing he sees before he wakes up is the barista, preparing coffee the exact way Elias likes it. She says, “That’s right, you always get the same cup of coffee. I always know what to get started with right when you walk through the door.” She smiles as a fondness spreads through Dan, and as he opens his eyes, her face shifts and morphs to match the one hovering above him: the face of Hunch.
Through the painful haze, Dan cannot tell where he is. All he knows is that Hunch is right there, holding a syringe and looking at him with that familiar black eye. He smells smoke and raw meat, tastes dried blood when he licks his lips, and he feels something cold and fleshy against his aching bruises. Justin the dog barks next to him. Hunch sighs in relief when he realizes Dan is awake, and Dan is hit with that same longing he felt in the coffee shop. But most intriguing is the ring of light that surrounds Hunch’s head like a halo. Hunch looks like an angel; an angel looking at Dan and not looking away.
The only thought that passes through Dan’s mind is that this must be heaven. “Hey, we’ve transcended the mortal realm, I see,” he says, his voice ragged from his injuries. He doesn’t even question why Hunch is there too. He assumes he must have also been beaten by the cops. He takes in another breath of smoke and feels his bravado already returning. “Ah, heaven. A fate for a hero such as myself, really.”
Hunch, however, looks confused, but Dan can tell he’s also holding back laughter. Dan starts to sit up, but he is gently pressed back down as Hunch says, “Fucks, Fucks, no-”
“What, what? What happened?”
“This ain’t heaven.” Hunch grins as he gestures around. “This is just my smoky, disgusting office.”
“Oh.” Dan’s vision finally clears, and as he lands back into reality, he realizes that the halo above Hunch’s head was just the lightbulb behind him. He takes in the room again, noticing the desk covered in cigarette butts and junk that Hunch has taken apart, the newspaper clippings on the wall that recount Hunch’s past cases. He sees frozen steaks on the table and realizes that must be what’s on his head. Although Dan is slightly disappointed, he recovers quickly. “What happened? How was my gambit? How did it play out?”
“Yeah, yeah, about that gambit…” Hunch actually starts laughing now, to Dan’s chagrin. “Uh, I’ve never seen a more monumental failure.”
“Ah.”
Dan sits with that for a moment, trying to not be too upset about it. He fails. He’s very upset about it.
That is, until Justin growls and he’s reminded of the money they had collected from their scheme at the boxing match. “Ah, my money.”
“Any sign of the Fix yet, Justin?” Hunch asks.
Justin shakes his head. “No.” His voice is rougher around the edges like he’s holding back another growl. “But I can go outside looking. Maybe find Conrad, too.”
“Yeah, that’d be helpful, bud.”
“But don’t take the money!” Dan adds. Justin, with the help of Hunch, takes the bags of loose dollars off, landing with a large thump on the floor.
Justin goes to leave, but hangs by the door for a second to say, “I’ll bring him back if I find him. You stay safe in here.”
“Will do.” Hunch smiles as he leans forward. “You’re a good dog.”
Justin’s tail wags just a bit as he leaves, Hunch laughing until the door shuts.
Dan groans as he sits up. “Well, he seems to be in a mood.”
Hunch is suddenly right next to him, helping him recline so he isn’t leaning on his injuries too uncomfortably. “I don’t think he likes being separated from the boy.”
“You know, I don’t get what he sees in that rascal Conrad.” As Dan speaks, Hunch grabs the open bottle of whiskey on the table. “That boy has been nothing but a nuisance for my business!”
“He’s just a kid, Fucks.” Hunch takes Dan’s wrist, gentler than he’s ever expected, and inspects the cuts that run along his arm. “Yeah, maybe you don’t like him—by the way this’ll sting a bit,”—he pours the whiskey into the wounds, Dan letting out a yelp as pain shoots through him—”but I think you need to give him more of a chance.”
Dan decides to drop it (mostly because of the biting ache in his body, but he knows he’ll bring it up later) and instead lets Hunch work. It’s clear he’s done this before; his hands are skillful as he takes a roll of gauze and wraps it around Dan’s arm, his motions careful and measured despite Hunch being everything but that. He whistles as he works, that same stupid song he found once and now can’t get out of his head, tearing the gauze when it covers every cut. He tucks it into itself so it's secure. He never lets go of Dan’s wrist.
A new ache starts to creep up in Dan. It feels like a stray dog slowly approaching someone and sniffing their hand, like the beginning of something. The pain has already faded into a soreness throughout his whole body, most likely from whatever was in that syringe, and instead he becomes keenly aware of every point of contact they’re making. Hunch lets go of his arm and goes to grab the other one, moving close enough that their knees knock together. He grabs the whiskey bottle again with his other hand as he investigates the cuts on this arm. Dan is mesmerized. He could probably watch Hunch work all day.
In his tired state, Dan lets himself briefly imagine what it would be like to lean forward and pull Hunch closer. To feel his warmth everywhere, not just on his wrists. Maybe in a kiss, maybe in a hug—Dan’s not picky at this point. He can’t remember the last time he had either.
Would Hunch want to do that, though? He’s always seen something in Dan the rest of the city doesn’t see. But he’s also easily bored, always moving on to the next big case. After one kiss, one hug, would he be done? Dan knows he could keep it interesting (in multiple ways). And he knows that he wants Hunch. But even just this simple care means more to him than Hunch could ever know. This closeness could be enough for Dan. He could make it enough.
But that doesn’t mean he stops wanting more, and just enough is not what he wants. He wants to be with Hunch in whatever way that means. He would follow Hunch anywhere, as long as he stays by his side.
Then, a sting runs up his arm again, and Dan lets out another yelp. He gives a glare over at Hunch, who only shrugs and grins. “You seemed out of it. Might as well keep you on your toes.”
Dan grunts. “You are very good at doing that.”
“Hey, that’s what I do!” Hunch has switched to the gauze now, wrapping it up this arm, as Dan shakes his head. He was getting too sappy. Sure, he was pleasure, but this was a little ridiculous even for him. He lets them fall back into an uncharacteristic silence, save for Hunch’s whistling and his stuttered breaths of pain. He doesn’t look at Hunch again. He fears he might do something stupid. They were friends, and that was it. Friends who sometimes shoved each other’s fingers in their mouths, but friends nonetheless. So instead he just sits and takes a little too much enjoyment out of every brush of Hunch’s hand against him.
Dan would never run away from pleasure; it’s who he is. And Dan likes who he is. But there are times where his own intensity can overpower him. He can become all-consuming, completely single-minded. He’s fought so much to be heard and appreciated that he thinks when he finally does get that, he’ll become too much. He wants everything, even though he knows it’s selfish.
Suddenly, Hunch speaks up. “You know, it’s usually my thing to get beat up by a bunch of people.”
Dan laughs and then coughs as the movement of his chest hurts. Hunch looks concerned, but it passes before Dan can process it. “Well, someone has to keep my prized customer from taking all of the hits.”
Hunch lets out a small chuckle. “I can take more hits than you can, though. I got a thick skull up here.” He knocks on the side of his head, a cartoonish bonking noise coming out despite the fact that he’s literally a solid cloud.
“Ah, but that thick skull of yours needs to keep following cases, my man. And I need to win over the hearts of the people! How better to do that than to get beaten up by a bunch of police?”
Hunch hums. “I guess that’s true. But I still don’t like it.” He then tilts his head, almost like he’s confused as to why he said that. “Huh. Why do I not like it when you’re hurt? Another case to crack…”
Just as Hunch tucks the gauze in to keep it from unraveling (and Dan himself feels like he’s unraveling), suddenly the crown of steaks on Dan’s head starts to slip. Before Dan can even realize what’s happening, Hunch leans forward and grabs them, keeping them in place. Hunch moves them back up to where they were before, but Dan is too distracted by the fact that he is so close. He feels Hunch’s fingers on his temples, readjusting the steaks to make sure they don’t fall again; he smells the smoke on Hunch’s lips; he sees the scars that break through Hunch’s stubble. And he wants. Screw everything, he wants.
Hunch looks down from the steaks and suddenly they are making eye contact. He takes a deep shaky breath and Dan can feel it. Hunch’s eyes are like looking into a black hole—mystifying, terrifying, beautiful—and Dan can’t escape its pull. Hunch laughs a little. Dan laughs a little. He thinks that maybe Hunch is going to lean in closer. However, instead he goes to pull away, and suddenly Dan can’t bear the thought. “Wait,” he says, sounding just as broken as his body. They are both dancing on a wire. The steaks feel cold against his skin. Hunch stays perfectly still. (It’s unnerving. He’s never still.) And then Dan reaches a single hand up, fighting against his injuries, and lays it on Hunch’s shoulder. Hunch takes another breath, looking at Dan like he’s searching for something. And apparently he finds what he needs, as he surges forward and kisses him.
Dan burns. Hunch’s lips are chapped against his, smoke and heat surrounding them like a fog. Dan pulls him even closer until they’re pressing against each other, letting out a small noise when Hunch accidentally bumps into one of the bruises on his leg. Hunch just laughs into Dan’s mouth as he moves his hands down to cradle Dan’s face, his thumb swiping against his cheek, one of the most tender things Dan’s ever felt. He thinks briefly that they should probably be doing this at any other time at any other place, but he also thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. That this couch that’s a little too scratchy and covered in coffee stains is exactly where this was supposed to happen. Maybe this actually is heaven, and Dan was correct the first time. Maybe God intended for it to be found in other people, that it’s made in the pockets between their hands and their laughter. He certainly feels holy, moving his hand up to run it through Hunch’s soft, cloudy hair, knocking his hat off in the process.
Hunch is in full motion now, running his tongue along the bottom of Dan’s lip, always doing something new, trying something else. It’s dizzying. It’s exciting. It’s very Hunch. Dan opens his mouth and lets Hunch’s tongue slide in (because he’s not going to say no to something that feels good, after all), cupping the nape of Hunch’s neck and rubbing his thumb over his stubble. Hunch tastes like cigarettes and root beer and somehow like the very concept of questions. How have they not done this before? How many times have they sat in the back corner of Sugah’s, leaning into each other, drunk off of oxytocin? How many times has Dan looked down at Hunch’s lips and wanted?
At some point, Hunch pulls away, both of them breathing heavily into the little space between them. Dan’s eyes flutter open—he can’t even remember when he closed them—and he sees Hunch grinning at him, flushed and bright.
It’s quiet for a moment, and then Hunch says, “You know, I have a hunch as to why I don’t like it when you’re hurt.”
Dan laughs again, feeling so like himself that pain barely registers in his body. “And what’s your hunch, my good man?”
“I think perhaps I have… more of a connection with you than previously thought.” Hunch leans just an inch closer, their noses brushing. “But you know, I might need more evidence…”
Of course Hunch would use some stupid line like that, but a thrill runs up Dan’s spine anyway. Someone who wants him too. He thinks that Hunch is going to kiss him again. However, instead there’s the click of a door opening, and Hunch jumps up just in time for Justin and The Fix to appear in the doorway.
The Fix looms behind Justin, covered in glass and leaning so he doesn’t put pressure on what looks like a broken leg. Hunch is already gathering more whiskey and steaks by the time Dan notices the absence of his body against his. He suddenly feels lightheaded, like he woke up from a dream. He wants to pull Hunch back towards him, but seeing the state of The Fix makes him stop. Clearly something big happened, and it seems a little more important than what he and Hunch were just doing (but only a little).
The Fix sits down in an armchair next to Hunch’s board of cases, and despite the chair being bigger than average, it still bends and almost breaks under his weight. Hunch begins wrapping steaks around The Fix’s leg, who starts frantically explaining what happened at the DA’s office. He’s scattered, talking about a white key and a window and a figure that tried to kill him. Dan places what he and Hunch were doing at the back of his mind—something to return to later—and instead tries to focus on the larger case at hand.
Of course, Hunch is at the forefront of it all. Solving cases is his job. The pieces start to come together: Elias actually jumped out the window himself and knows that copper is effective against whatever the key is. They only need more evidence of copper being in the system. Hunch suggests the police precinct, as the evidence from Norell Ojiccle’s murder is kept down there (and because Conrad’s already there, which Dan is not the happiest about). The rest of the group agrees, but they sit and rest just a bit longer to let the steaks do their work.
Apparently, steaks are much faster at healing wounds than Dan realized, as he already feels better in just a couple minutes. The Fix’s leg is already healed too. Maybe Hunch actually is an angel, or maybe he just gets hit so much that he knows the best remedies for it.
Hunch helps them both to their feet, removing the steaks as he goes. When he unwraps the crown of them around Dan’s head, he gives him a small smile like they’re keeping a secret. Dan’s heart flutters a bit, and as the most minor thank you, he picks up Hunch’s hat that had fallen to the ground. He hands it to him, Hunch nodding and placing it on his head, the front tilted down to always give him that classic 5 o’clock shadow across his face. Such a silly thing, but Dan loves it anyway.
The Fix and Justin are first out the door, and right before Dan leaves, Hunch grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. When Dan turns to him and gives him a questioning look, Hunch just shrugs and says, “What can I say? I’m curious about what hand-holding feels like.”
Dan laughs, filling with pleasure, but it's a different kind than he’s used to. This pleasure goes deeper, seeping into his chest a warmth that he hasn’t felt in years. It reminds him of when Elias was little and curled up in his favorite blanket, eating his mother’s cookies and listening to his dad tell him dramatic fairy tales that he most certainly made up on the spot. Dan looks at Hunch and realizes what it is: the pleasure of home. Of belonging. He imagines them running through the street, battered and bruised and laughing. He imagines coming home to a freezer full of steaks and a coffee machine that always makes perfect coffee. He imagines waking up on a cold pillow, Hunch beside him grinning as he says, “you know what I’m curious about?” that starts the whole thing again. Small heavens, earthly heavens.
As they leave Hunch’s office, Dan thinks back to the prohibition, how this city tries to silence him, keep him trapped under the thumb of ambition and progress. But Dan knows Elias deserves to feel like this. He deserves pleasure, no matter how much he’s “earned” it. How bad could that be, to love? Why is this city so afraid of it?
Questions to bring up another time, though, when Elias is not currently falling out of a window. Instead, Dan just squeezes Hunch’s hand a little more. Maybe he and Hunch could solve that case together. After all, they are inextricably linked, curiosity and pleasure. Wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow. And maybe when they solve that case, the city won’t try to stifle him anymore. Maybe they’ll finally see his worth, his importance. Maybe the holy gates will let him in this time. Maybe.
They get in the car, and Hunch flashes him a smile. He’s never felt so close to heaven; maybe, when all this is over, he can finally have it.
Dan wants. That’s what he was made to do. He wants and wants and wants.
But this time, with Hunch’s hand in his, he hopes too.