“hell yeah” is an Ani Difranco song. i’d put the lyrics here, but that’d be annoying :) so just go find them yourselves! anyway, this is the first real story i ever wrote, so even though i did some hard-core editing before i posted it, it’s still rather well. young. but cute. i still like it, so i thought someone else might as well! onward!

He stalked down the alley after his quarry, a nervous woman with a suitcase full of drugs, money, or both. He didn’t look like a cop; he looked like a killer - rough, dangerous and eager. He was all of those things, and he would have caught her that time if he hadn’t tripped. Her head jerked up like a startled deer and he leapt back to his feet, but she was already gone. Cursing shortly, he glared at the dirty heap he had stumbled over.

“Oh look, an alley cat,” his southern drawl sneered.

The body unfolded carefully after being prodded by the tip of a shoe and gray eyes peered up at him.

“Well well. Looks like a lone wolf is out hunting. How’s the work, cop?”

He slithered to his feet, all lanky limbs and impossible grace that jarred with the look of pain that slid across his face and away.

“Hungry for anything in particular?” the rough voice continued. “Perhaps… a kitten?” There was a long tense silence, gray eyes dueling green, and then the blond boy laughed impatiently. “You wanna buy or not?”

“Depends on what you’re selling,” came the surprising reply.

“Everything.”

One eyebrow slid up on the shadowed face and he nodded shortly. Stepping closer to the ragged boy he asked in a cold voice, “What are you plotting?” Gray eyes glared up and the man continued impatiently, “If you’re soliciting a cop…”

When he realized that the question wasn’t meant as an insult the boy replied as bluntly.

“Revenge.”

The taller man slid closer, pressing the boy against the cold bricks of the building and leaned to speak directly in his ear.

“I need information, do you have any for sale?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Follow me.”

“Wait! No. Here is fine.”

The man paused and turned, green eyes catching gray. “We’re being watched.”

The boy flushed and looked away. “I know. But, I can’t.”

“Why.”

He shifted carefully into a moonbeam and the light caught on the gleam of bone protruding from his leg.

“You idiot!” the man hissed.

They stared at each other for a moment, both tensing when loud laughter erupted from the nearby street.

“Let’s find some fun!” a drunken voice yelled and the boy flinched, gray eyes widening in fear. They settled on the man with a tinge of desperation as shadows crept down the alley from the group of men now blocking the sickly yellow streetlight.

“Hey!” the same voice called, “wanna share?” The group roared with laughter and green eyes hardened. The man leaned forward and jerked the blond boy into his arms. He strode to the end of the alley, paused, and snarled at the men.

“I don’t share.”

The boy struggled briefly and then gave up.

“I can’t go to a hospital,” he mumbled into his rescuer’s chest.

“I know someone.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to pay me. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I want to know your name.”

“What?”

“You’re name. A name. Something I can call you.”

“Italics.”

“Fine. I’m Midori.”

“I know.”

Italics watched Midori glance down at him speculatively and then the world spun gently into darkness.

The sun sparkled soft and friendly across a white ceiling as Italics’s eyelids fluttered open. He sat up cautiously in the humming silence and contemplated his surroundings. He was clean and wearing unfamiliar boxers and his leg was bandaged. He could feel it, even thought he couldn’t see it, where it rested under a thick quilt. He stretched, yawned, and considered the man sleeping next to him. Sure doesn’t look like a saint, he mused.

“Well, you’re secret’s safe with me,” he murmured as he eased out of the bed and limped to the bathroom. Avoiding the mirror, he slipped back into the main room of the generous studio and spotted an easel in the corner. And was surprised when he realized the form on the paper was his own, his sleeping face rendered with sparse grace. Humming in interest, he raised an eyebrow at the still sleeping man and wandered to the French doors, discovering a gorgeous balcony and a cool morning. Peering down over the railing he breathed in the exhaust and fury of horns and construction and life passing on the streets. He grinned down at the pavement and stuck his tongue out.

“Not this time,” he whispered, “You can’t keep me yet.”

“You’re awake,” a sleep roughened voice accused from behind him.

Italics flushed and spun, countering in a sharp voice, “Jeez, don’t eavesdrop on a guy when he’s talking to himself.”

“Ahh. And here I thought you were talking to the city.”

Italics groaned. “You really were listening.”

He blew out a breath and leaned back against the railing to rake his eyes over his new companion. Midori was propped against the doorframe, body long and dangerous, even clad in only black silk boxers. Or perhaps because he was clad thus. Italics suddenly shifted, uncomfortable with his own body, leaner and scarred. The stared tensely at each other for a moment before Italics sighed and gestured to his bound leg.

“Thanks.”

Midori nodded and moved up beside the boy to gaze out at the buildings disappearing into the clouds.

“Such an unforgiving place,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Italics grinned and spoke to his shoes. “But you saved me.”

Green eyes slanted to contemplate the bent head. “I did, didn’t I. How odd.”

“You have no idea.”

“I’ve never rescued anyone. And now I’ve picked up a stray cat. What am I going to do with you?”

“Well now, I don’t know. No one’s ever rescued me, so this is all new for me as well,” Italics replied sharply.

“I suppose I could take you to the pound,” Midori cut in coolly.

Italics mentally kicked himself for his attitude, then sighed and nodded. “I understand.” He moved away from the balcony, then gasped as a lance of pain shot through his leg. He clutched frantically at the railing when the limb gave way; gray eyes open wide with pain and surprise.

Midori straightened abruptly and scooped the boy off his feet. “Idiot. How long have you been standing? And stop struggling!”

Italics pouted and turned his face away. “Put me down. I have to leave.”

Midori rolled his eyes upward in annoyance and said sharply, “You’re not going anywhere. Stop being such a brat.”

Italics peeked up and struggled weakly as he was carried inside and dumped unceremoniously on the bed.

“Hurts,” he mumbled.

Midori sighed and said, “Stay here. I’ll get you something and you can sleep.”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” the boy grumbled quietly and then giggled as Midori whacked him over the head with a pillow.

“Fine. You don’t have to sleep. But you do have to stay off your leg.”

“But…”

“Move an inch and you’ll regret it.”

Italics stuck his tongue out at Midori’s back as the man wandered off to the kitchen, then snuggled deeper into the bed and allowing his eyes to drop shut with a sigh.

The days slipped one into the other, easier than Italics had ever remembered in the past. The two men adjusted to each other, moving carefully around their confined space.

It’s not as if he doesn’t piss me off, Italics thought one afternoon, I just don’t mind. I feel safe.

He was sprawled over the bed, pretending to read, while Midori painted and slyly observed his subject. He had refused to allow his roommate to see the canvas or have access to any of his sketch books and the curiosity was driving the boy to distraction. Midori had not realized his work had already been seen the first morning and Italics was already aware that the painting was of him. Of course this only heightened his curiosity. Was Midori hiding the canvas because he didn’t want Italics to know he was painting him? Or was the painting inappropriate?

Italics groaned loudly and flopped onto his back, his book tumbling onto the ground. Midori paused, allowing the paintbrush to drop onto a pallet on the floor. He raised an eyebrow at the boy and stretched carefully before covering the painting. Italics bounded up like a puppy and collapsed at Midori’s feet.

“Let’s go somewhere!”

“Where?”

“Anywhere! I’m bored.”

“You’re leg’s not ready.”

Italics rolled his eyes. Midori was stalling and they both knew it, but the blond boy shrugged and rose to prowl onto the balcony. Midori sighed and ran a helpless hand through his hair. Eventually this peace would have to be broken and he didn’t understand why he was avoiding that.

“I thought you quit being a cop,” the boy mentioned.

“I did.”

“But now you’re back.” Italics propped his legs against the wall and gazed at the ceiling. “Revenge?” he ventured. There was a long silence and Italics sat up to find green eyes gazing thoughtfully at him. “What?” he laughed nervously. Midori shook his head and went back to his paper. “So,” Italics continued his one sided conversation, “what kind of information are you looking for?”

“You can’t help me.”

“What?” Italics jolted off the bed and strode angrily around, punctuating his words with waving hands. “You bring me here, fix me up, feed me, help me, and now you’re saying the terms we agreed upon, my method of payment, is no good?”

“We never agreed on anything.”

Italics paused and stared vaguely into space. The guy was right. He had just assumed.

“Well, what do you want then?”

“Nothing.”

Italics glared ferociously at the other man. “It’s not like that. Look. I can help you. Let me help you.” There was silence. Italics sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration before plopping to the floor at Midori’s feet. “Please,” he whispered. “I need to.”

“No.”

“Why! At least tell me why.”

Midori stared down at the boy and suddenly flung his pencil against the far wall. “Why? he yelled. “You just can’t stop pushing, can you?” He dropped his head into his hands and whispered, “Goddammit.” Italics reached out a tentative hand and Midori snarled, “Don’t touch me.” The hand dropped away and there was a long moment of silence. Midori took a breath, held it, and then spoke quietly to the ground.

“I was a cop for five years before I met my wife.”

Italics stared up in surprise, but didn’t interrupt.

“I had made plenty of enemies and she asked me to get a new job. See, she had gotten pregnant and was afraid of losing me. Afraid to have her child alone. And I loved her so much…” He trailed into a moment of silence then took a deep breath and continued. “So I quit. I started teaching art at the local junior high.” Italics’s stomach dropped suddenly. He knew where this story was going. “I wanted to move on, to forget, but some grudges go too deep, apparently. Some people just couldn’t let go. On November 18th I received a note at work that said, Are they safe? By the time I got home my wife and newborn daughter were already dead.” Midori paused and looked up in surprise at the sound of a breath hitching in to see tears streaming silently down Italics’s face.

“I’m sorry,” the blond boy whispered in horror.

“Were you there?” Midori questioned hollowly.

“No. But I’m sorry.” He paused and wiped a hand over his face, then asked cautiously, “When did you realize?”

“That you’re Genevieve’s son? Almost right away. But now you see. You have information I want, yes. But it’s your family that is my enemy.”

“Why did you help me, then?”

“Hn,” Midori shrugged.

Italics stared hard at him and then shrugged back. “Well, you can join the club, anyway,” the boy grinned up at his benefactor.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, haven’t you stopped to wonder why I would be selling myself in an alley with such illustrious family connections? Our revenge… it’s the same.”

Midori had wondered, but the LaRosa’s never betrayed their own. He had assumed the boy was on a mission. Italics sat quietly, accustomed to Midori’s silences, allowing the man to register this new development. After a moment Midori laughed shortly and shook his head.

“This is going to make things easier.”

Italics nodded sagely. “So what’s the plan?”

“Well, first I’m going to take you to see my brother.”

“Your brother? What’s that gonna help?”

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t care where we’re going, as long as we get to go somewhere!” Italics said gleefully. Midori nodded with a guilty shrug and the boy continued after a moment. “Were you trying to hide me? Or protect yourself? No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”

Midori paused halfway across the room and turned to face his companion who was gazing carefully at the floor. “Someday I want to hear your story as well. But until then I want you to know that I was keeping you hidden for both of our protections, but now that we’re both aware of the general situation and now that your leg really is better, there’s no reason for us to not get out a little more. Plus, I thought you might like to do some shopping, get some clothes that fit you better than mine do.”

Italics looked up with glowing eyes and nodded eagerly before biting his lip in worry. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m broke.” Midori sighed and Italics hurried on in sudden worry. “I’m sorry, I really am, I don’t want to keep stealing your clothes. Just give me a couple hours and I’ll get some cash and pay you back for everything and get some stuff so I don’t have to be taking your clothes and stuff anymore.”

“How are you going to get that? By selling yourself?”

“Uh…”

“Idiot.” There was a long silence and then he said, half to himself, “If you sleep with anyone for money, it’s going to be me.”

“What?” the boy replied in surprised confusion.

“Money… it doesn’t mean anything to me and I have a lot. I wouldn’t have suggested shopping if I didn’t mean I wanted to take you. I just thought it would be fun, since I’ve been keeping you trapped here so long.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of me,” Italics said, voice tight with pride. Midori groaned and slammed the balcony door before running his hands through his hair in a gesture that was becoming very familiar to the gray-eyed boy.

“Look. I know you’re not asking for anything, which is really why I don’t mind giving it to you. I’m not very good with people. But what I’m trying to say is I have all this money, which I inherited and I don’t want. And so it would make me very happy to share it with you. If you hate shopping or really love wearing my clothes or want to spend it on drugs, well then, we can reevaluate my offer. But other than that. Please?”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Italics grinned and shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not used to people being nice without ulterior motives. I’m always happy to help relieve a friend of a burden.”

“Great!” Midori leaned against the door and laughed. “Great.” He watched the boy silently and thought, he said friends.