[Sean laughs a little, and considers it. Really, really considers is...
But by the time the morning comes, Sean's already gone, having snuck out. He leaves a note on the table.]
Sorry to head out early, but I remembered I had to get to work. I owe you some morning sex. Call me sometime you're free. 313-5555.
--
[Connor's not free much, but to be fair, Sean isn't either. He keeps busy with his job, and he does his best not to think about it. Sometimes he texts Connor, or sends him a pic. Twice they meet up, and that's a lot of fun. But Connor's got his job and Sean has his, and mostly it's just casual flirtation via text, plus some exchanged animal pictures.
Things get a little heated at work. Marcone gets pissy about Canterino using the same docks he's shipping out of, and the next thing Sean knows, a full on war breaks out. Not much time for texting, or doing anything except keeping your head down and your mouth shut. He shows up where he's told to, does what he's told to, and looks the other way when some of Marcone's guys get dragged in for 'information'. He feels guilty afterwards, so he makes a stop by church and prays to God for understanding and hopefully forgiveness, the kind of stuff he knows he doesn't deserve.
He doesn't think about where those bodies go after the other guys are done with 'em. Probably the waterfront. Not that it matters to Sean though, since what are the chances somebody might tie him to that? He didn't lay a finger on them, or touch them at all. He just stood outside the door. And who could possibly know that one of them was the same guy trying to beat the piss out of Sean a few months ago?
[In intervening months, Connor thinks off and on about those meetups. It's the first time he'd ever been picked up and fucked against the wall. That'd be in his spank bank for a long while, even without his prodigious memory.
As much as he enjoyed texting and flirting with Sean, he'd known it probably wasn't going to work out as anything beyond a casual fling. A shame, really; Sean liked his dog, didn't mind his clutter, was a really good lay and sweet to actually talk to. By now he'd learned more about the man's family back in Drinagh, and Connor had explained that he didn't actually have parents, so much as a small army of caretakers that might as well have been robots for all the warmth they provided. He hadn't actually met his brother until they were both well into adulthood.
And then, looking over the scene photos from the last body to have been hauled out of the drink, it sinks in for Connor that his lovely on-again-off-again is working for some bad people. And that he knew more than he'd ever wanted to let slip. In hindsight, it makes sense; initially Connor had assumed that his "moving things here to there" was more along the lines of an illegal transport job that would pay him under the table just because sometimes, that's the only work someone could find, especially in the less gentrified areas of the city. Now? It all kind of clicks into place. And he hates it.
But he has a job to do and liking someone doesn't make them less of a criminal.
When Connor knows where the next setup is going to be between Marcone's thugs trying to muscle Canterino off his turf for good, he ends up being there himself, not so much undercover as dressed down casually, loitering with his badge on his belt and gun holstered against his chest. All he has to do is wait for Sean to take up his station outside the warehouse offices, and he can slide in easy. Maybe put the guy off his game. Make a quiet arrest and bust the rest before anyone got hurt.
So after Sean's been standing outside for about five minutes Connor will come into view with his hands in his pockets, old leather jacket over the top of one of his less awful hawai'ian shirts.]
Hey, stranger.
[At least he's casual about it, though he knows Sean is a flight risk.]
[Sean's trying to stay alert in case Marcone's guys come out their way. Being out front sucks but somebody's got to keep a lookout, and if he's out here, then he's not in here, which means he doesn't have to be witness to anything fucked up. He's fighting the urge to text Connor, maybe see if somewhere across the city, he's also stuck killing time in a car or something.
So when Connor does appear, there's a moment where Sean just stares and blinks, because... wait. Is he imagining this? Or... did he summon Connor by thinking about him? What?
That looks like the real deal. What the hell is Connor doing out here?]
Connor? What?
[Sean steps away from the door, quickly crossing the distance between them.] Uh hey, hey, what... what brings you to the uh... neighborhood? I thought you were working tonight?
Sorry doll, I would've let you know I was coming, but...
[There had been a thought to text Sean before he appeared, but he didn't want to give him enough time to get his nerves up and flee before he could get within grabbing distance.
Connor saunters up, casual as can be, glancing around the area then nodding off around the nearest corner. Once there, he'd gesture to the wallet with his badge embedded in the leather, looking almost morose about what he's about to do as he picks a pair of handcuffs from the inside pocket of his jacket.]
Sean O'Malley, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting in the murder of Marco Cialdina. Anything you say can and will be used against you, so I'd advise you to keep it buttoned because I really don't want to make this any harder than it has to be.
[The alarm bells are ringing in his brain the moment Connor calls him 'doll', because that's a nickname reserved for good times, not meeting your sometimes-fuckbuddy in the middle of the docks. So the moment Connor strings together Sean's full name, he's already running, not letting him finish the rest.
Sean is a lot of things: funny, sweet, kind of stupid. But mostly, what he is, is fucking fast. He takes off in a full sprint and stops for absolutely nothing.]
[Well, he'd done the dutiful part of his job here, and now it was a foot race.
What Sean doesn't know, and that Connor hasn't talked about, is that he too is goddamn fast. Chasing down suspects on foot has earned him a reckless reputation among his peers, and his track record for catching them at the end of it all is damn near spotless, save for one instance in which he'd dragged his partner at the time back up onto a rooftop before he fell off of it. So Connor isn't all that far behind when Sean bolts, even vaulting over parking barriers and straight parked cars as he pursues.
His stamina extends beyond sex, as Sean will soon find out, and Connor keeps up his pace without bothering to shout, just hoping to close the gap enough to snag the back of Sean's shirt.]
[Oh Jesus fucking Christ he's fast too! Jesus Christ! Sean's running all out and Connor is too, and he's fucking fast!
The only advantage here is that Sean knows this place well. He works around here nearly every night, he knows this place like the back of his hand. So he dodges and ducks, weaving in and out of the places he knows will have obstacles. But like clockwork, anytime he glances back when he's got breathing room, there's Connor hot on his heels.
And in one instance, he can feel Connor's fingers skim at him, narrowing missing snagging on Sean's shirt. Sean feels his heart nearly stop, but...
It's a near miss and it just makes Sean panic, getting a burst of speed. It won't last for long, but maybe, maybe it can last for long enough!
He skids around a corner and throws a trash can in Connor's path. If he's slowed down here, that means Sean can get up the fire escape. And if he gets up the fire escape and into the building, it's going to be hard for Connor to get him. There's four different exits, he can't watch them all!
Sean runs pelt-melt for the escape, jumping to grab onto it, and hauls himself up. He's quick about it. But the bottom of his feet are still dangling within reach of Connor.]
[There's an instant of panic when Sean manages to dodge out of his grip, and the tunnel-vision that comes from it makes everything feel a little bit slower. He swings around the corner Sean disappeared at and only just manages to hurdle over the can as it rolls into his way.
He doesn't have much of a vertical leap, but it's more than enough for him to catch Sean on his way up the fire escape. He'd be impressed if Sean could haul both their weight up the ladder with just his hands, but he really doubts it, especially with momentum on his side. He swings with his arms wrapped around Sean's ankles, fingers twisted into his pantlegs to keep him from being shaken, or kicked, back off.]
You're only tacking more time onto your sentence, Sean. Get down and come quietly or I will have to put resisting on your record.
[He's panting, out of breath from the dead sprint he'd had to maintain long enough to get to this point.]
[The moment he feels Connor grab his ankle, it takes every ounce of strength and quick reaction time to keep his grip on the ladder and not dump himself down on the pavement. He can't do it for long though, Sean might be able to haul Connor up under good circumstances but he sure can't haul dead weight that's fighting him. He threatens to put resisting on record and Sean feels his stomach all twist up.
He's a fucking idiot. He's such an idiot. He slept with a cop and texted him and let himself get a little sweet on him, and look what it's got him: fucking threats of being arrested. Idiot! Stupid, stupid idiot!]
Sorry! Sorry sorry!
[The reason for the apology becomes clear as Sean starts to swing his legs, making it hard for Connor to hold on. Sean wraps his arms tight around the ladder, holding on for dear life as he swings Connor to make him lose his grip. Sean's shoes are already slipping from the pressure Connor's hands are putting on his shoes, and while losing his shoes in this place is a bad, bad idea, Sean would rather escape barefoot and bleeding then end up arrested and deported by a man whose dick he's sucked multiple times.
Come on, Connor, come on, lose your grip! Quick, before Sean slips, because the longer he holds on, the harder it is for Sean to keep his own grip.]
[The apology seems out of place here in this moment, until he realizes what it's for. In other circumstances, he might think it's sweet that Sean would think to do so, but for now he's still got a job to do and getting kicked for it isn't even the worst thing that's happened to him. It's making it hard to hold on though, and Connor curses and lurches upward to grab the bottom rung of the fire escape, making it possible to heave himself up but also giving Sean the chance to do the same.
Avoiding getting kicked in the face is the annoying part, but catching Sean by the shirt again doesn't take as much effort.]
Sean, you have to stop before you fuck this up any worse for yourself. [He wheezes and tries to get a better grip before the man can get it in his hand to rip out of his shirt entirely.] What do you even have to gain by working for those assholes?!
[Shit! It doesn't work, and all he does is kick Connor in the face, and not even shake him loose, because now Connor's holding onto his shirt. It pulls tight around his throat, and Sean's finding it hard to breathe with it cutting in. And-
He lets out a baffled, strangled noise. What- what does he mean what does Sean have to gain by working for them? Sean is genuinely baffled that this is what Connor's angry about, because this stopped being about working for them at the exact moment that Sean started running away.]
W-what?
[That's about all he managed to squeeze out, because between the choking and the extra weight, Sean's hand slips, and he falls with Connor, both of them landing hard on the alleyway floor. Sean hears something crack and he sees stars. The air's knocked out of him and it hurts, but Sean struggles to his feet, trying to push himself forward to keep moving.
But it's hard to keep moving when he's dazed. There's blood trickling out of his hairline and he stumbles some as he moves, not able to do more than walk at a slightly brisk pace.]
[It's not what he expected to happen, and the wind's been knocked out of him by the impact with the ground and Sean's weight half landing on him, but it's still not as bad as some of the spills he's taken. He flips himself over and grabs once more at the trailing end of Sean's shirt now stretched and distended and probably unwearable. It allows him just enough leverage to pin Sean against the building, leaning into him heavily and snapping the handcuffs onto his wrists, once more reciting the legal portion of his arrest.
Then he tugs on the chain of the cuffs and heads back out to the sidewalk at the end of the alley, settling right down on the concrete with a huff, dragging Sean down to join him.]
You're a real pain in my ass, y'know that?
[Still, he reaches up to gently turn the man's head back toward him, hoping to find the wound seeping blood from Sean's hairline and clean him up a little. He feels bad about this, all of it, but a lead is a lead and even if Sean isn't guilty of anything, this would help confirm it for the legal system. Maybe in the end it would be a good thing.]
I'm sorry about this, Sean. But it'll be ok. 's just. Sit for a minute.
[Then he'll make the call to have his partner come pick the two of them up.]
[Sean's head is spinning. And he doesn't get away this time. He gets read his rights, handcuffed, and forced to sit down on the concrete. And maybe, just to add insult to injury, Sean ends up first getting told off, and then getting an apology that he knows doesn't count. If Connor was actually sorry, he'd let him go. He just hunches in on himself while the world keeps careening around him like a shitty carnival ride and closes his eyes.]
Won't be okay. [His voice is a little slurred, like he's drunk. And a little bitter too, because Connor's lying to him, and he doesn't want to hear it. Not now. Not after he took advantage of Sean like this.] They're gonna deport me.
[Sean hunches in tighter on himself. Fuck. Fuck, he's going to cry. He's going to fucking cry and isn't that just the cherry on this shit sundae. He got arrested for his stupid job that's the only thing that he can do that pays the bills and still has money left over, and he might get charged with murder and go to jail, but most likely, no matter what happens, he's going to get sent back to Ireland, and that's it. No more apartment. No more dating. Best case scenario, he lives at home and goes straight back into the closet and never comes out again.
Worst case, he goes to jail and by the time they let him out, ma will be dead, and it'll be his fault for being so goddamn stupid to believe a cop might actually be nice.
He doesn't look at Connor. He just keeps his head bowed and leans forward to hide his face in his knees.]
[Connor wants so badly to be a comfort. To take hold of him and reassure him that he would do anything he could think of to keep Sean from serving time that he doesn't deserve.
They'd talked about this, weeks back. About guys just doing illegal shit to get by, and he lets them slide under the radar as long as they're not hurting anybody. The guy in charge of the bets he places, the guy that runs his favorite food truck, the folks with the illegal clinic that tends to be the only place the people that live out in the boondocks can afford for emergencies. He lets them slide, and does the rest of his work squeaky clean.
But now, he can hear Sean breaking down next to him, and he can't do anything. If he makes promises, in this state Sean certainly won't believe him.]
I won't let them deport you. There's loopholes around it and some strings I can pull. Please, just trust me.
[As if that's going to happen now. But it's worth a shot.]
[Connor makes a promise that Sean knows he doesn't mean. Not really. Fuck, he should have known. He'd been texting with him a while, he's seen how hard it is to meet up with Connor because of that fucking job. Of course he'd put it first above everything else. Sean was fine with that when 'above everything else' meant not being able to meet up for dates.
It's different when 'above everything else' means 'arresting someone who trusted you'.
Sean says nothing. And he keeps saying nothing, all the way back to the station. So hey Connor, you found another way to shut him up.
They book him and take a mug shot and they take his stuff from him, and Sean ends up in a holding cell. He's been in these before when drunk or part of the occasional bar brawl. He's never been here before with the threat of a murder charge hanging over his head, or the inevitability that he'll be losing everything. Will they even let him take his books with him wherever he goes? Probably not to prison. And probably they won't give a shit about getting Sean his things if they do send him home. If he's lucky, he'll fly home in the clothes he was wearing when they booked him, which now consist of dirty jeans and a shirt that got torn during the chase. They're going to throw away all his fucking books, and probably ever nice thing an ex-boyfriend ever got him.
By the time Sean ends up in an interrogation room, his eyes are bloodshot and they've put him in a new shirt - this one baggy and shapeless. It's not exactly his usual almost vacuum sealed look.
And when Connor's the one who comes in, Sean just hunches in on himself and waits for the inevitable.]
[It's not an easy thing, walking back into this interrogation room. Not even because of Sean; he'd told him once, about finding a traumatized young man that had killed the person keeping him held captive, and about getting an admission of guilt for the murder of that man, and how when he'd tried to leave the room, the victim (and that was what he was at that point, by his account) had brained himself on the table. It takes him shaking his head before he can sit back down in that chair across from where they've got Sean's hands cuffed to the top of the table.
A file resting at the edge of the table is slid over between them, and Connor flips it open to examine the scene photos. The corpse was water-bloated by the time they'd gotten to it, but the suit, the set of his eyes, they were familiar. He looks back at Sean and flips one of the photos around just to confirm that he knew exactly what was going to happen now.]
You know who he is, don't you?
[His voice is quiet, probing. They hadn't talked much about the night they'd met. Sean hadn't ratted out anyone to him, usually being evasive about the specifics. And up to now, that had been alright.]
[He's all business. And of course he is. This is just business to him. Must be nice to be able to do that. Sean can't. He really fucking can't, and it just makes him feel worse seeing Connor open that file folder up and start reading through it.
He puts the photo in front of Sean. Jesus. It's worse after he's been in the water. Sean looks away from it, staring down at his hands.]
[The professionalism is easier to focus on than the heartbreak in Sean's expression. Than the ache in his own chest at the two of them being forced into this position by his own dedication to his job. Not much makes him regret his choice to pursue this career, but sometimes, things come close. Trying to keep impersonal for the sake of Sean's testimony is so hard.]
Sean, there are multiple witness testimonies placing you outside locations that he'd been seen going into and out of in the last month. There's reason to suspect you might have had it out for him, too.
[Connor's brow knits and he sits back, his hands twisting around and rubbing against each other, a fidget for when he was thinking. A step down from when he'd pull out a quarter and start flipping it hand to hand.]
Look, personally? You don't strike me as a murderer. Maybe you didn't even want him dead. But he harassed you and you looked the other way when someone else did something bad to him.
[God of course he's getting this pinned on him. They don't have any proof but they don't need proof do they? The actual big fish are going to be fine and Sean's going to go to jail. He probably won't get special treatment or anything either. Not like anybody in the Family is going to be coming by to tell Sean how he's got a place for him waiting after jail time. Because if he gets jail time, when that's done, he's leaving the country.
He stares down at his hands.]
You don't know me. You don't know anything about me.
[Sean finally glances up at Connor. He doesn't have a poker face. He just looks tired and sad and resigned.]
[Connor's poker face is largely unshaken, but there's tension in the way he holds himself. Sean's never spoken to him like this, just like Sean has never seen him actually doing his job; he's only seen the before, and the after. He's been a good distraction after hard cases. He's been good for Connor. And that makes this that much more awful.]
So if I've got it wrong, why don't you explain it to me? Maybe I can find a way out of this for you.
[Leaning forward on the table, Connor lets his expression change finally, taking on the softness Sean is more familiar with, big brown eyes and pouting lips trying to defuse the tension.]
You might not have to serve time at all, if you'll just talk to me.
[The moment Connor's eyes go soft, Sean has to look away. He can't look at this cop trying to railroad him when he's looking like the same guy Sean watched sleep before he slunk off that first night. He's fucking cave in and no soft looks are going to mean anything when he's the one with a murder charge on him. And it's not even someone he actually killed.]
I didn't know him. I barely ever talked to him. He was always picking fights with people. One of them probably got tired of him. It wasn't me.
[Sean doesn't want to be here. It's stupid, it's fucking stupid, but he's most upset about his books. He spent so long collecting them all, and no matter what happens, they'll just throw them away. Nobody's going to give a shit about a punch of dumb, cheap pulp books except for him. He closes his eyes and just rests his chin against his chest.]
But it doesn't matter. The guys who did it have real lawyers. And it's easier to charge somebody you know nobody gives a fuck about.
[Connor's tongue darts across his lips mindlessly, his hands coming together in front of him.]
It's easier, but that doesn't make it right.
[And that's where his hands are tied. Because more of then than not, the legal system ascribes to the Occam's Razor solution. The simplest answer is usually the correct one. But his work? Has always told him the opposite. These things are rarely simple.]
Look. I don't want them to get away with framing an innocent man, but the longer you refuse to talk to me, the less I can do before some state-appointed shitstick is gonna walk in here and talk you into a plea bargain. Then it really will be over, and I don't want that to happen to you.
[There's a soft sigh and Connor's fingers dig into one of his eyes, rubbing it tiredly like there's an ache he can't quite work out. It's not that far off from the truth, as the stress starts to creep up on him.]
If you think someone else whacked him and put him in the river, the best thing you can do's tell me what you do know. Even if it's not a name. Then you can have a protective detail, 'round the clock. It's the best I can do short-term.
[Sean lets out a little huff. Then a laugh. It's a sad, bitter little sound. And how can't he feel that way?]
Oh yeah. Because you sure aren't trying to talk me into something. Nah, nah, all these people here are my enemies, but you're looking out for me. That's why you walked up to me in casual clothes, and got in close, so it'd be easier to slap the cuffs on me. Yeah, right, it's the plea bargain that's bad for me.
[God, he knew Connor was a cop, he knew it, but he thought he was an actual good fellow. He'd told Sean about some of the rough shit he'd dealt with. He seemed like someone who'd try to do the right thing. But for someone who said a lot about doing the right thing, he sure seems to be wanting the easy one right now.]
I think if somebody killed him, and I knew who that somebody was, then we both know that protective detail won't do shit for me. God.
I hoped keeping it calm would make this faster, so you wouldn't have to be scared. Besides, you would have fled on sight if I'd come up to you in uniform. And that isn't even a judgment on you, it's just how people in that neighborhood are. Too many crooked cops flashing their uniforms and their badges like it absolves them of every bad thing they've ever done, so people bolt whether they're guilty or not.
[Exchange of information seems to be the better option here. An explanation, so that maybe Sean will feel better about telling him the truth. Anything that will give him the leverage he needs to get the man off the hook before someone decides he should be deported.]
Yeah, I am trying to talk you into something. I'm not even gonna claim it's gonna make you happy. But I want to try and keep you safe without having to put you in a cell by yourself. The best way for me to do that is to chase him down and make sure he can't hurt anyone else. Him or his goons.
[Sean looks up at Connor and okay, maybe for once, Sean's not the only stupid one here. He hisses softly at him, trying to keep it low in case they're being recorded.]
You could have fucking texted me. I could be out of here, and you could have the stupid fucking information, and you'd get what you fucking wanted without me being threatened with a murder charge.
[But it's too late for any of that. Sean's in the building. They're not going to let him walk out when they've decided he's a suspect. God why couldn't he have texted? Sean was trying to figure out how to tell him anyway, but he didn't want to have to leave town. Fuck, he should have. There was always work in Boston. Or fuck, maybe he should have gone back to New York...]
It doesn't matter. You put me in a cell, I'll 'kill myself' with a belt I didn't go in there with. You put me in protective detail, and somehow, those cops are going to go on break and I'm going to get killed while they're not looking. If I did know anything, then going to jail and getting deported is still better than dying.
[Sean stares at his hands. Okay. Fuck. Okay... He has to do something. He can't just sit here and wait. If he wants to get out of here alive, then he's going to have to do something, because Connor can say he wants Sean to be safe, but as long as he thinks the police are the answer, Sean's never going to be safe.]
If you really want to keep me safe, then I can't stay in this city. And maybe, if I wasn't here... I might remember something.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
28/10/18 05:16 (UTC)But by the time the morning comes, Sean's already gone, having snuck out. He leaves a note on the table.]
Sorry to head out early, but I remembered I had to get to work. I owe you some morning sex. Call me sometime you're free. 313-5555.
--
[Connor's not free much, but to be fair, Sean isn't either. He keeps busy with his job, and he does his best not to think about it. Sometimes he texts Connor, or sends him a pic. Twice they meet up, and that's a lot of fun. But Connor's got his job and Sean has his, and mostly it's just casual flirtation via text, plus some exchanged animal pictures.
Things get a little heated at work. Marcone gets pissy about Canterino using the same docks he's shipping out of, and the next thing Sean knows, a full on war breaks out. Not much time for texting, or doing anything except keeping your head down and your mouth shut. He shows up where he's told to, does what he's told to, and looks the other way when some of Marcone's guys get dragged in for 'information'. He feels guilty afterwards, so he makes a stop by church and prays to God for understanding and hopefully forgiveness, the kind of stuff he knows he doesn't deserve.
He doesn't think about where those bodies go after the other guys are done with 'em. Probably the waterfront. Not that it matters to Sean though, since what are the chances somebody might tie him to that? He didn't lay a finger on them, or touch them at all. He just stood outside the door. And who could possibly know that one of them was the same guy trying to beat the piss out of Sean a few months ago?
Only someone with a very good memory.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 05:56 (UTC)As much as he enjoyed texting and flirting with Sean, he'd known it probably wasn't going to work out as anything beyond a casual fling. A shame, really; Sean liked his dog, didn't mind his clutter, was a really good lay and sweet to actually talk to. By now he'd learned more about the man's family back in Drinagh, and Connor had explained that he didn't actually have parents, so much as a small army of caretakers that might as well have been robots for all the warmth they provided. He hadn't actually met his brother until they were both well into adulthood.
And then, looking over the scene photos from the last body to have been hauled out of the drink, it sinks in for Connor that his lovely on-again-off-again is working for some bad people. And that he knew more than he'd ever wanted to let slip. In hindsight, it makes sense; initially Connor had assumed that his "moving things here to there" was more along the lines of an illegal transport job that would pay him under the table just because sometimes, that's the only work someone could find, especially in the less gentrified areas of the city. Now? It all kind of clicks into place. And he hates it.
But he has a job to do and liking someone doesn't make them less of a criminal.
When Connor knows where the next setup is going to be between Marcone's thugs trying to muscle Canterino off his turf for good, he ends up being there himself, not so much undercover as dressed down casually, loitering with his badge on his belt and gun holstered against his chest. All he has to do is wait for Sean to take up his station outside the warehouse offices, and he can slide in easy. Maybe put the guy off his game. Make a quiet arrest and bust the rest before anyone got hurt.
So after Sean's been standing outside for about five minutes Connor will come into view with his hands in his pockets, old leather jacket over the top of one of his less awful hawai'ian shirts.]
Hey, stranger.
[At least he's casual about it, though he knows Sean is a flight risk.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 07:59 (UTC)So when Connor does appear, there's a moment where Sean just stares and blinks, because... wait. Is he imagining this? Or... did he summon Connor by thinking about him? What?
That looks like the real deal. What the hell is Connor doing out here?]
Connor? What?
[Sean steps away from the door, quickly crossing the distance between them.] Uh hey, hey, what... what brings you to the uh... neighborhood? I thought you were working tonight?
(no subject)
28/10/18 08:10 (UTC)[There had been a thought to text Sean before he appeared, but he didn't want to give him enough time to get his nerves up and flee before he could get within grabbing distance.
Connor saunters up, casual as can be, glancing around the area then nodding off around the nearest corner. Once there, he'd gesture to the wallet with his badge embedded in the leather, looking almost morose about what he's about to do as he picks a pair of handcuffs from the inside pocket of his jacket.]
Sean O'Malley, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting in the murder of Marco Cialdina. Anything you say can and will be used against you, so I'd advise you to keep it buttoned because I really don't want to make this any harder than it has to be.
(no subject)
28/10/18 08:23 (UTC)Sean is a lot of things: funny, sweet, kind of stupid. But mostly, what he is, is fucking fast. He takes off in a full sprint and stops for absolutely nothing.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 08:31 (UTC)What Sean doesn't know, and that Connor hasn't talked about, is that he too is goddamn fast. Chasing down suspects on foot has earned him a reckless reputation among his peers, and his track record for catching them at the end of it all is damn near spotless, save for one instance in which he'd dragged his partner at the time back up onto a rooftop before he fell off of it. So Connor isn't all that far behind when Sean bolts, even vaulting over parking barriers and straight parked cars as he pursues.
His stamina extends beyond sex, as Sean will soon find out, and Connor keeps up his pace without bothering to shout, just hoping to close the gap enough to snag the back of Sean's shirt.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 08:45 (UTC)The only advantage here is that Sean knows this place well. He works around here nearly every night, he knows this place like the back of his hand. So he dodges and ducks, weaving in and out of the places he knows will have obstacles. But like clockwork, anytime he glances back when he's got breathing room, there's Connor hot on his heels.
And in one instance, he can feel Connor's fingers skim at him, narrowing missing snagging on Sean's shirt. Sean feels his heart nearly stop, but...
It's a near miss and it just makes Sean panic, getting a burst of speed. It won't last for long, but maybe, maybe it can last for long enough!
He skids around a corner and throws a trash can in Connor's path. If he's slowed down here, that means Sean can get up the fire escape. And if he gets up the fire escape and into the building, it's going to be hard for Connor to get him. There's four different exits, he can't watch them all!
Sean runs pelt-melt for the escape, jumping to grab onto it, and hauls himself up. He's quick about it. But the bottom of his feet are still dangling within reach of Connor.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 08:53 (UTC)He doesn't have much of a vertical leap, but it's more than enough for him to catch Sean on his way up the fire escape. He'd be impressed if Sean could haul both their weight up the ladder with just his hands, but he really doubts it, especially with momentum on his side. He swings with his arms wrapped around Sean's ankles, fingers twisted into his pantlegs to keep him from being shaken, or kicked, back off.]
You're only tacking more time onto your sentence, Sean. Get down and come quietly or I will have to put resisting on your record.
[He's panting, out of breath from the dead sprint he'd had to maintain long enough to get to this point.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 09:00 (UTC)He's a fucking idiot. He's such an idiot. He slept with a cop and texted him and let himself get a little sweet on him, and look what it's got him: fucking threats of being arrested. Idiot! Stupid, stupid idiot!]
Sorry! Sorry sorry!
[The reason for the apology becomes clear as Sean starts to swing his legs, making it hard for Connor to hold on. Sean wraps his arms tight around the ladder, holding on for dear life as he swings Connor to make him lose his grip. Sean's shoes are already slipping from the pressure Connor's hands are putting on his shoes, and while losing his shoes in this place is a bad, bad idea, Sean would rather escape barefoot and bleeding then end up arrested and deported by a man whose dick he's sucked multiple times.
Come on, Connor, come on, lose your grip! Quick, before Sean slips, because the longer he holds on, the harder it is for Sean to keep his own grip.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 09:06 (UTC)Avoiding getting kicked in the face is the annoying part, but catching Sean by the shirt again doesn't take as much effort.]
Sean, you have to stop before you fuck this up any worse for yourself. [He wheezes and tries to get a better grip before the man can get it in his hand to rip out of his shirt entirely.] What do you even have to gain by working for those assholes?!
(no subject)
28/10/18 09:13 (UTC)He lets out a baffled, strangled noise. What- what does he mean what does Sean have to gain by working for them? Sean is genuinely baffled that this is what Connor's angry about, because this stopped being about working for them at the exact moment that Sean started running away.]
W-what?
[That's about all he managed to squeeze out, because between the choking and the extra weight, Sean's hand slips, and he falls with Connor, both of them landing hard on the alleyway floor. Sean hears something crack and he sees stars. The air's knocked out of him and it hurts, but Sean struggles to his feet, trying to push himself forward to keep moving.
But it's hard to keep moving when he's dazed. There's blood trickling out of his hairline and he stumbles some as he moves, not able to do more than walk at a slightly brisk pace.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 09:22 (UTC)Then he tugs on the chain of the cuffs and heads back out to the sidewalk at the end of the alley, settling right down on the concrete with a huff, dragging Sean down to join him.]
You're a real pain in my ass, y'know that?
[Still, he reaches up to gently turn the man's head back toward him, hoping to find the wound seeping blood from Sean's hairline and clean him up a little. He feels bad about this, all of it, but a lead is a lead and even if Sean isn't guilty of anything, this would help confirm it for the legal system. Maybe in the end it would be a good thing.]
I'm sorry about this, Sean. But it'll be ok. 's just. Sit for a minute.
[Then he'll make the call to have his partner come pick the two of them up.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 09:37 (UTC)Won't be okay. [His voice is a little slurred, like he's drunk. And a little bitter too, because Connor's lying to him, and he doesn't want to hear it. Not now. Not after he took advantage of Sean like this.] They're gonna deport me.
[Sean hunches in tighter on himself. Fuck. Fuck, he's going to cry. He's going to fucking cry and isn't that just the cherry on this shit sundae. He got arrested for his stupid job that's the only thing that he can do that pays the bills and still has money left over, and he might get charged with murder and go to jail, but most likely, no matter what happens, he's going to get sent back to Ireland, and that's it. No more apartment. No more dating. Best case scenario, he lives at home and goes straight back into the closet and never comes out again.
Worst case, he goes to jail and by the time they let him out, ma will be dead, and it'll be his fault for being so goddamn stupid to believe a cop might actually be nice.
He doesn't look at Connor. He just keeps his head bowed and leans forward to hide his face in his knees.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 09:48 (UTC)They'd talked about this, weeks back. About guys just doing illegal shit to get by, and he lets them slide under the radar as long as they're not hurting anybody. The guy in charge of the bets he places, the guy that runs his favorite food truck, the folks with the illegal clinic that tends to be the only place the people that live out in the boondocks can afford for emergencies. He lets them slide, and does the rest of his work squeaky clean.
But now, he can hear Sean breaking down next to him, and he can't do anything. If he makes promises, in this state Sean certainly won't believe him.]
I won't let them deport you. There's loopholes around it and some strings I can pull. Please, just trust me.
[As if that's going to happen now. But it's worth a shot.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 18:10 (UTC)It's different when 'above everything else' means 'arresting someone who trusted you'.
Sean says nothing. And he keeps saying nothing, all the way back to the station. So hey Connor, you found another way to shut him up.
They book him and take a mug shot and they take his stuff from him, and Sean ends up in a holding cell. He's been in these before when drunk or part of the occasional bar brawl. He's never been here before with the threat of a murder charge hanging over his head, or the inevitability that he'll be losing everything. Will they even let him take his books with him wherever he goes? Probably not to prison. And probably they won't give a shit about getting Sean his things if they do send him home. If he's lucky, he'll fly home in the clothes he was wearing when they booked him, which now consist of dirty jeans and a shirt that got torn during the chase. They're going to throw away all his fucking books, and probably ever nice thing an ex-boyfriend ever got him.
By the time Sean ends up in an interrogation room, his eyes are bloodshot and they've put him in a new shirt - this one baggy and shapeless. It's not exactly his usual almost vacuum sealed look.
And when Connor's the one who comes in, Sean just hunches in on himself and waits for the inevitable.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 22:46 (UTC)A file resting at the edge of the table is slid over between them, and Connor flips it open to examine the scene photos. The corpse was water-bloated by the time they'd gotten to it, but the suit, the set of his eyes, they were familiar. He looks back at Sean and flips one of the photos around just to confirm that he knew exactly what was going to happen now.]
You know who he is, don't you?
[His voice is quiet, probing. They hadn't talked much about the night they'd met. Sean hadn't ratted out anyone to him, usually being evasive about the specifics. And up to now, that had been alright.]
(no subject)
28/10/18 23:08 (UTC)He puts the photo in front of Sean. Jesus. It's worse after he's been in the water. Sean looks away from it, staring down at his hands.]
Saw him around. Don't know his name.
(no subject)
28/10/18 23:18 (UTC)Sean, there are multiple witness testimonies placing you outside locations that he'd been seen going into and out of in the last month. There's reason to suspect you might have had it out for him, too.
[Connor's brow knits and he sits back, his hands twisting around and rubbing against each other, a fidget for when he was thinking. A step down from when he'd pull out a quarter and start flipping it hand to hand.]
Look, personally? You don't strike me as a murderer. Maybe you didn't even want him dead. But he harassed you and you looked the other way when someone else did something bad to him.
(no subject)
28/10/18 23:30 (UTC)He stares down at his hands.]
You don't know me. You don't know anything about me.
[Sean finally glances up at Connor. He doesn't have a poker face. He just looks tired and sad and resigned.]
Just like I didn't know you.
(no subject)
28/10/18 23:45 (UTC)So if I've got it wrong, why don't you explain it to me? Maybe I can find a way out of this for you.
[Leaning forward on the table, Connor lets his expression change finally, taking on the softness Sean is more familiar with, big brown eyes and pouting lips trying to defuse the tension.]
You might not have to serve time at all, if you'll just talk to me.
(no subject)
28/10/18 23:57 (UTC)I didn't know him. I barely ever talked to him. He was always picking fights with people. One of them probably got tired of him. It wasn't me.
[Sean doesn't want to be here. It's stupid, it's fucking stupid, but he's most upset about his books. He spent so long collecting them all, and no matter what happens, they'll just throw them away. Nobody's going to give a shit about a punch of dumb, cheap pulp books except for him. He closes his eyes and just rests his chin against his chest.]
But it doesn't matter. The guys who did it have real lawyers. And it's easier to charge somebody you know nobody gives a fuck about.
(no subject)
29/10/18 00:10 (UTC)It's easier, but that doesn't make it right.
[And that's where his hands are tied. Because more of then than not, the legal system ascribes to the Occam's Razor solution. The simplest answer is usually the correct one. But his work? Has always told him the opposite. These things are rarely simple.]
Look. I don't want them to get away with framing an innocent man, but the longer you refuse to talk to me, the less I can do before some state-appointed shitstick is gonna walk in here and talk you into a plea bargain. Then it really will be over, and I don't want that to happen to you.
[There's a soft sigh and Connor's fingers dig into one of his eyes, rubbing it tiredly like there's an ache he can't quite work out. It's not that far off from the truth, as the stress starts to creep up on him.]
If you think someone else whacked him and put him in the river, the best thing you can do's tell me what you do know. Even if it's not a name. Then you can have a protective detail, 'round the clock. It's the best I can do short-term.
(no subject)
29/10/18 00:38 (UTC)Oh yeah. Because you sure aren't trying to talk me into something. Nah, nah, all these people here are my enemies, but you're looking out for me. That's why you walked up to me in casual clothes, and got in close, so it'd be easier to slap the cuffs on me. Yeah, right, it's the plea bargain that's bad for me.
[God, he knew Connor was a cop, he knew it, but he thought he was an actual good fellow. He'd told Sean about some of the rough shit he'd dealt with. He seemed like someone who'd try to do the right thing. But for someone who said a lot about doing the right thing, he sure seems to be wanting the easy one right now.]
I think if somebody killed him, and I knew who that somebody was, then we both know that protective detail won't do shit for me. God.
(no subject)
29/10/18 00:57 (UTC)[Exchange of information seems to be the better option here. An explanation, so that maybe Sean will feel better about telling him the truth. Anything that will give him the leverage he needs to get the man off the hook before someone decides he should be deported.]
Yeah, I am trying to talk you into something. I'm not even gonna claim it's gonna make you happy. But I want to try and keep you safe without having to put you in a cell by yourself. The best way for me to do that is to chase him down and make sure he can't hurt anyone else. Him or his goons.
(no subject)
29/10/18 01:20 (UTC)You could have fucking texted me. I could be out of here, and you could have the stupid fucking information, and you'd get what you fucking wanted without me being threatened with a murder charge.
[But it's too late for any of that. Sean's in the building. They're not going to let him walk out when they've decided he's a suspect. God why couldn't he have texted? Sean was trying to figure out how to tell him anyway, but he didn't want to have to leave town. Fuck, he should have. There was always work in Boston. Or fuck, maybe he should have gone back to New York...]
It doesn't matter. You put me in a cell, I'll 'kill myself' with a belt I didn't go in there with. You put me in protective detail, and somehow, those cops are going to go on break and I'm going to get killed while they're not looking. If I did know anything, then going to jail and getting deported is still better than dying.
[Sean stares at his hands. Okay. Fuck. Okay... He has to do something. He can't just sit here and wait. If he wants to get out of here alive, then he's going to have to do something, because Connor can say he wants Sean to be safe, but as long as he thinks the police are the answer, Sean's never going to be safe.]
If you really want to keep me safe, then I can't stay in this city. And maybe, if I wasn't here... I might remember something.
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Posted byPlease correct me if I got the context wrong for "you were the exception"
Posted byYou nailed it!
Posted bynow how to fix it bc connor is bad at this whole having feelings thing when it comes to his mission.
Posted byIT'S TRICKY Connor's trying! Sean will warm back up in time, once he's less afraid
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