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Today has been boring, to say the least. Though Cole hates to admit it, Stefan’s been the most interesting part of it all. The thing irking him at this moment in time? A jarring lack of a cigarette between his teeth. He finished his pack last night before driving home.
“Bekowsky,” he turns to his partner from across the current crime scene and kicks the dirt beneath his shoes. “Do you have a cigarette?” Stefan typically has a pack on him, even though he doesn’t smoke. It’s something Cole has noticed but never put much thought into.
“Sure,” Stefan tosses his pack across the scene to Cole. It lands comfortably in the palm of his hand, aimed just right as Phelps opens his mouth to reprimand his recklessness. The box might have disrupted valuable evidence if he’d thrown it short or over. “Do you need a light?” He takes a step or two closer, a grin stretching his face. Obviously, he is amused by the fear of disrupted evidence scrawled across Cole’s face.
“No,” Cole snips and reaches into his coat. His Zippo lighter, scraped and marred from years of use, feels warm in his hand, similar to the box. He flips the box’s top up to find the foil inside intact. It is, oddly enough, wrinkled but not damaged. The corners of the box are softened as if he’s had it for weeks. Ignoring the questions, he hits it on the heel of his hand a few times and then peels the foil back, careful not to rip it.
“Just toss it back when you’re done,” Stefan instructs. Cole hums around the filter between his teeth. He will not be tossing it. Stepping carefully, Cole brings the box over and lights the cigarette. As he takes his first drag, he presses the box into Stefan’s palm and then returns his attention to the scene. His lighter returns to his pocket.
As he investigates, he reaches into his other jacket pocket for his notebook. Cardboard brushes against the back of his hand, and his heart sinks. He forgot about this box. He bought it a few days ago, and it remains unopened.
After a while, Bekowsky circles back to Cole, who is focused on a small pipe with a yellow “B” card beside it. Phelps inspects the pipe and then grabs a box nearby to inspect it too. Once he deems it unhelpful, he smiles at his hopeful investigation and drops it into the dirt. Never has a cardboard box been useful, but he also never fails to check.
He stands up straight and nods at Stefan before heading to the other side of the scene. The buzz of the cigarette keeps him occupied outside of checking the marked evidence. Once he’s satisfied with his efforts, he turns to find Stefan inspecting the same cigarette box that Cole had deemed useless. It’s been at least a few minutes since he walked away, so to see him still holding the box nearly rips a laugh from Cole’s throat. The stifled noise makes Stefan look up. “How’s that box looking?” Cole blows a cloud of smoke with an amused exhale. Then, the cigarette falls to the dirt and he stomps it out with the toe of his shoe. Stefan gets in the car without another word.
The drive is long, taking them across the district. After ten minutes of riding in near silence, Stefan chuckles to himself. So far, the drive has only bogged Cole’s mood down more. He attempts to ignore the noise, but Stefan seems so caught up in his thoughts that Cole has to question it. Stefan flicks a dismissive hand but then laughs again. Cole turns to look at him before ensuring the car is at a full stop. They blow through an intersection at a red light and are lucky to survive the trip.
“What are you laughing about?”
“You’re so…” Stefan pauses to think of the word. Under his breath, he reminds Cole to keep his eyes on the road. Then, he continues, “Why don’t you ever take a break? From the looks of it, you haven’t relaxed a single muscle since you waltzed out of the Marines with your Silver Star.” Cole’s stomach twists at the notion. “I mean, really, kid. Look at you,” Stefan puts excessive effort into a sulking expression, then puts a hand on his partner’s shoulder. Cole fights the instinct to look away from the road.
“I’m not sure what you want from me, Stefan,” Cole stops the car and looks over.
“I’m suffocating here, Phelps.” Stefan pulls his tie off and tosses it onto the dashboard. Then, he begins to undo the top few buttons of his shirt.
“Stefan,” Cole grits his teeth, ignoring the view of his partner’s collar bones dipping beneath the fabric. “Please keep your suit on,” he averts his gaze and a car behind them hits its horn. His attention shoots back to the road. He can’t tell if the heat in his face is from the honk or the blatant undressing of his coworker beside him. Stefan does not listen, undoing the buttons until he’s got at least five open. He chuckles and wraps an arm around Cole’s shoulder.
“What’s the matter? Am I making you nervous?” Stefan’s tone becomes taunting.
“No.”
Bekowsky puts a hand on Cole’s shoulder and points out the windshield. “Pull into this alley over here.” The direction catches Phelps off guard. Usually, Stefan refrains from giving directions unless Cole asks. Stefan looks at him expectantly and he buckles. The alleyway is dark, a small passage between two stores for shipments and trash collection. Cole would make an effort to avoid it even during the daytime. But, since Stefan is directing him here, he doesn’t think twice. Not until the car is parked.
“Nice, Phelps,” Bekowsky praises the parking job and ruffles his partner’s hair. Cole checks the surroundings. His tie tightens around his neck, nerves starting to get the best of him. Stefan’s arm hops from the back of the car seat to rest behind Cole’s neck. “Relax, kid. There’s nothing out there,”
“I know. I’m just checking,” Cole spits.
“Stop checking, then,” Stefan grabs Cole by the shoulders and stares him in the eye. Cole shifts in his seat. His eyes fall to Stefan’s chest, his gold tie clip suddenly very interesting. The diversion doesn’t last long. “Phelps,” Stefan pauses to allow for a response, but Cole doesn’t budge. “Cole.”
“What?”
“Look at me,”
“Why?”
“Look.” Stefan insists. Cole’s eyes flit to hold Stefan’s. He hasn’t looked at someone so intensely in ages. Not since the war, at least. “There you are,” Stefan’s teeth, pearly and slightly crooked, are bared in a wide smile. It’s so wide Cole can see it in his peripheral vision. His ears are hot.
“Why are you doing this, Stefan?” Cole’s voice remains low as if there is some imminent threat. There is no threat, though; Instead, there is only Stefan.
“I just need you to relax. Be a person for a minute,”
“I am a person, Stefan. I don’t know what you’re getting at,”
“You’re not. You’re a machine,”
“I’m flesh and blood, Bekowsky, just like you,” Cole scowls at the notion of being inhuman. He is nothing of the sort. Life would be much easier if he were. Stefan sighs but does not reply, instead tracing the seam in the shoulders of Cole’s suit. Then, his fingers run down Cole’s lapel. Cole does not move, doesn’t even breathe, instincts humming at the sudden change in behavior. Stefan’s hands run up the center of Cole’s chest and it is the first moment the touch feels anything but invasive. The weight is almost pleasant. Almost. It prompts him to let out the breath he’s been withholding.
“Good,” Stefan whispers. Another deep breath in and another slow exhale. He receives another almost silent praise from Stefan. A third breath, then a fourth, each one easier than the last.
After a minute or two, Cole scowls. “Stefan, I—”
“Cole,” Stefan’s eyes fly up to meet Cole’s gaze, widened and crinkled in amusement. His lips twist into the same smile as before, wide, charming, and crooked. It lies just outside the center of Cole’s vision. He finds mild amusement in this sentiment. His focus has not left the blue eyes of his partner, as instructed. He’s always been good at following orders. “Do you have cigarettes in your pocket?”
Cole manages to look away. Stefan chuckles. There are cigarettes in his pocket. Cigarettes he is not supposed to have, since he’d taken one of Stefan’s. And yet, the box weighs on his chest like a brick. Cole does not speak until Stefan thrusts his hand into Cole’s jacket, trying to wrestle the box out of his pocket. They fight over it for a few seconds and, ultimately, Cole loses.
“You sly dog,” Stefan laughs. Cole stammers for a moment, grasping for a defense. He didn’t know they were there? He was curious to see what kind Stefan had? It was a joke that Stefan misinterpreted? They all sound like bullshit. His partner interrupts before he can begin a protest. “You’re such a sucker,”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You wanted an excuse to talk to me,” Stefan rolls his eyes as if Cole is stupid for not realizing. His heart races as he tries to find a single genuine reason, a way to demolish the claim and come out victorious. Nothing comes to mind.
“I guess so,” is the first thing Cole can bring himself to say. He isn’t sure if he’s just trying to end the conversation or if he is admitting to something. “I’m sorry,” is all that’s left.
“Good God. Ever the romantic, eh?” Stefan muses. Then, he grabs the pack from his jacket and tosses it into Cole’s lap. “I carry ‘em for you, y’know,”
“What?”
“I don’t smoke. Not often, anyway. Once a week at most,” Stefan raises an eyebrow. Cole must be so dense to not have noticed.
“Why?”
“I dunno,” Stefan shrugs. “Sometimes you ask,”
“You can say no,”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to,”
They both go quiet. “You’re more of a sucker than I am,” Cole says definitively.
Stefan frowns at this. “How so?”
“You bought cigarettes just so you could give me one when I ask?”
Stefan peers at Cole and then crosses his arms in defiance. “Just for that, you can keep the box. Don’t bother asking,”
“I don’t want it,” Cole replies, “I don’t need two packs of cigarettes.” The statement makes him flinch as he realizes he’d been carrying two packs.
“No, you just want me to give you one when you ask,”
“How could you possibly know that’s true?”
Bekowsky purses his lips as he thinks. “How about I tell you next time you ask for one?”
Cole spends a minute or two thinking about it. He could drop his pack into a puddle. “Alright,”
“Alright,” Stefan echoes. He sits back in his seat, arms behind his head and legs crossed. Pride is scrawled across his features. “Where were we heading?”
“I think it’d be better if you drove,” Cole steps out of the car to go to the other side. When he opens the passenger door to sit, Stefan has not moved over. “You’re going to have me drive? I almost got us killed,”
“Oh, you saw?”
“Stefan,”
“Fine,” he scoots over and grabs the wheel with one hand. To back out of the alley, Stefan lays his arm across the back of the seat and turns over his shoulder to look out the back window. As they pull onto the street with more finesse than Cole could ever hope to achieve, Stefan’s arm does not move. He settles back into the seat and reaches to ruffle Cole’s hair again. Surprisingly, Cole feels more at ease than he had. Vigilance, he reminds himself. Vigilance and attention. There is a job to be done. Always, a job to be done.