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It’s dangerous being a cop in love with a criminal.
It’s cigarette smoke curling above their heads after carnal pursuits in illicit places. It’s speeding down the highway at midnight, laughter in his ears and heart pounding. It’s bloody knuckles and constellation bruises. It’s the clink of handcuffs on November nights.
Jordan bends Stiles over the cruiser, bending his arm behind his back. The handcuffs shut with a clang that sounds deafening to Jordan’s ears. Stiles is grinning with teeth stained crimson. The grin is feral. Leering.
The other man is struggling against Deputy Clark and Jones, screaming obscenities. He’s twice Stiles size, thick muscles that bulge under his tight t-shirt. Stiles winks at him as Jordan forces him into the backseat.
“You need to stop,” Jordan growls.
“Maybe I just wanted to be bent over your cruiser,” Stiles replies. He languishes in the backseat, as if he’s lounging in a limousine on the way to some decadent party. Blood trickles from a cut above his eyebrow. Jordan wipes at it with his thumb. It smears across the pale skin.
“Why do you do this?” Jordan asks, “Why do I keep arresting you?”
He knows Stiles isn’t a real criminal. He doesn’t steal or drink drive or murder.
But he breaks and enters.
He gets into vicious fights.
Jordan has pressed Stiles against the cool metal of the cruiser too many times recently. Stiles is seemingly on a one-man mission to fight all the biggest assholes in Beacon Hills.
“That bastard put something in a girls drink, what was I supposed to do, let her get drugged and carted off in the back of his windowless van?”
Tongue twisted taut so that every word comes out harsh. Stiles eyes gleam in the low lighting. They are typically caramel brown, a comforting color. Now they glow golden. A dangerous wildfire, almost untamable.
Jordan has kissed Stiles when he has been angry, sealing away fury with soft lips. Poisonous words contained. Jagged, jarring but made smooth. Made soft.
Kisses will not fizzle out this fire.
“You could have switched their drinks,” Jordan suggests, “Made him roofie himself.”
Stiles grins that feral grin. Bloody teeth, crimson on pearly white.
“That is fucking brilliant.”
Jordan sighs, shaking his head. He slams the door behind him.
//
Scott pays for Stiles bail. Scott is gentle, kind. A stark contrast to his hurricane of a friend.
Jordan knows that they have been friends since they were tiny but always wonders how one grew up to be summer sunshine and the other a winter storm.
Stiles tries to catch Jordan’s attention as he leaves but Jordan does not engage. He is tired of seeing Stiles leaning against the prison bars, bruises blooming underneath those golden eyes.
He loves Stiles. Loves waking up to find Stiles making breakfast, always remembering to add one sugar to Jordan’s coffee and stir it anticlockwise. Loves trading soft, lazy kisses on Sunday afternoons. Loves that Stiles introduced him to friends and family with pride. Loves that Stiles is comfortable with Jordan, trusts him implicitly.
He does not love reading him his rights. He does not love wrapping bandages around broken skin. He does not love the pain.
//
Jordan comes home to find Stiles on the couch. His eyes are shiny and red rimmed. Jordan hangs up his belt, makes sure the safety is on his gun. He sheds his coat, hanging it on the hook by the door. Unlaces his boots.
Takes his time. Lets Stiles suffer a little longer. Jordan knows that as soon as they touch, he will crumble. Press kisses into Stiles hair, against Stiles lips. Stiles is his biggest weakness.
Stiles hands him a chalkboard. In Stiles cursive handwriting are the words ‘It has been ___ since my last arrest’. Jordan taps the empty space with his index finger.
“I promise to be better,” Stiles says. Jordan kisses his temple.
//
“Read it and weep,” Stiles proclaims, pointing to the chalkboard.
“It has been one year since my last arrest,” Jordan reads aloud. Stiles is grinning and it is no longer like a wolf seeking out prey.
“Shall I start crying now?” Jordan teases, “Or after breakfast?”
“I’ll make you sob,” Stiles says lewdly, grabbing Jordan by the hand and pulling him into their bedroom.
There is no pain anymore and it’s good. It’s so good.