#plus jimmy started shooting him down when he goes to bitch about the other man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // Introduction

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, allusion to sexual content, perhaps the Most Extra OC I’ve written to date

WC: 2.2k

----------

Penny closes one eye and scrunches up her face, digging through her S/S 2018 monogrammed Louis Vuitton tote for her work phone. It buzzes hard, rattling against her Oliver Peoples sunglasses, until she can fling some chestnut hair from her face and answer it.

“Caught me just before we’re leaving for the airport,” she says breezily, squinting out the bay window of the whitewashed St. Lucia suite looking over the lapis ocean, “What’s up?”

“I have such a treat for you,” chuckles Silver.

A familiar thrill shoots down Penny’s spine. She swallows and casts a glance around the room for her vacation companion. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Who is it?”

Silver, being Silver, pauses for dramatic effect.

“It’s Shawn Mendes.”

A pause. Penny’s well kept brow furrows.

“Who?”

Niall first realized something was really wrong when Shawn didn’t want to go to 40 Love. In fact, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Niall had to go to him, to his house in Beachwood Canyon, just to see his old friend.

He eyes him warily, watching Shawn stare out the window overlooking the Hills. He’s got a guitar pick in the pocket of his sweats. His fingers fumble with it while he thinks.

“So… things are bad,” Niall guesses.

Shawn takes too long to shrug and angle his head back at Niall. “Not… bad. Just weird.”

Niall leans forward, propping his elbows up on his knees and holding his beer bottle aloft, examining the shedding label.

“I get it. It’s a weird situation. Honestly, I… I was pretty surprised.”

Shawn bobs his head and feels his jaw tighten against his will. “I think a lot of people are.”

Niall is quiet for almost a full minute. He shakes a hand through his coarse brown hair. “I get it, though. I mean, you know I do, mate. Going from teenager to adult in this business is somethin’ most people don’t even get to do. But doin’ it… it’s hard. So I get it, why this thing makes sense for ya.”

Shawn is silent, fidgeting in front of the window.

Niall lifts a shoulder, looking to lighten the mood. “Least she’s not a nightmare.”

It gets a short, rough chuckle from Shawn, which Niall considers progress. Shawn finally turns looking worse for wear as he shuffles to sit in the armchair across from the couch, shoulders hunched, legs spread.

“I don’t think I would’ve agreed to a publicity stunt relationship with someone I hate,” He pauses and chews on the inside of his lip, “I dunno, maybe I would’ve at this point.”

Niall lowers his gaze. He recognizes the old, faded remnants of Catholic guilt in his gut and does what he can to tamp them down. His progression from teen heartthrob of One Direction fame to singer-songwriter hasn’t been easy in comparison to Shawn’s. Hell, he’ll always be one of the 1D boys -- there’s really no changing that. He’s made his peace with it.

His young friend, 21 now and in the industry since he was 15, has to do the same. Niall’s been paying attention. Shawn Mendes has been stratospheric for a while. His third album was a massive success. He sold out arenas on a world tour that even One Direction’s *cough* ambitious management wouldn’t sniff at. But the Armani smart watch ads and even the Calvin Klein campaign haven’t saved him from being a “prince of pop.”

It’s not the worst thing you can be called, Shawn and Niall both know. But it’s diminutive, it’s a little condescending, it’s sweet. Shawn has always been sweet. He is the ultimate nice Canadian boy, the antidote to Bieber’s downfall.

But he’s growing the fuck up and the rest of it -- the music, the tours, the image -- it has to grow, too.

It was Shawn and Bex’s shared publicist who first mentioned the idea. Bex, single name, like Madonna, is an old friend. She’s a Nickelodeon star-turned-pop singer who came up around the same time Shawn was sitting in a computer chair posting to Vine and YouTube. He likes Bex, she’s cool. They’ve written together and yeah, they’ve fucked a couple times when they were drunk and needed distractions from their own lives for various reasons. But he doesn’t get that feeling about Bex. He knows the feeling is out there. But that’s not what this thing with her is for.

“It’s a proven effective way to age you up in the public’s eyes,” Emily advised him, doing that thing where she dips her chin a little toward her chest and widens her eyes, the ‘you really should listen to me’ face, “And aging you up is the only way to get you where you really want to go. The teenage girls can get you places. Fuck, they can even make you a legend. But they can’t get you the world’s respect.”

Shawn thought it was insane at first. Lie about a relationship? Isn’t that kind of seedy? Won’t people see right through it?

He shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He still wonders these things sometimes. But the righteous indignation he felt last year when it came up is an ancient memory. He picks moodily at his own beer bottle sitting on the arm of the chair.

“You see someone, right? Like a therapist?” Niall verifies. Shawn nods absently.

Niall goes silent again for longer than usual. Shawn looks up to see his friend pensive.

“What?”

Niall shrugs and lifts his eyes to Shawn’s carefully. “Not the only thing you could be doing to manage this. The stress, ya know? And anxiety.”

Shawn bristles the way he does whenever someone suggests he’s not doing enough of something. Before he can open his mouth, Niall steps on his own words.

“I mean, ya know, there’s someone else ya can be seein’.”

Shawn’s face is blank. Niall’s going to have to explain the idea as painfully and awkwardly as it was explained to him by a friend a couple years ago.

“I’ve been seein’ a girl on and off for three years. Not always the same one, I mean. For stress relief.”

Shawn, as sweet and doe-eyed as he doesn’t want to be, isn’t picking up what Niall’s putting down.

“What, like a chiropractor?” Shawn guesses, his brow creasing.

Niall slugs back the last slurp of his beer. “No, like a domme.”

Penny waits until she’s back in her three bedroom Studio City home, quiet and removed in the hills just like she likes, to call Silver back.

Gus, her favorite agency driver, picked her up from the Santa Monica airport after she kissed one of her favorite clients, Victor Calhoun, goodbye and hauled in all her luggage from a week in St. Lucia. For barely needing to be dressed at all for a week, she brought a ton of shit with her. She makes a mental note to rethink that for next time, but she also thinks Victor likes that she’s high maintenance. Or seemingly high maintenance, she thinks with a smile as she pads barefoot around her cottage in panties and an old t-shirt, bag of popcorn in hand.

She drops onto her couch while the phone rings on speaker in her lap. She stretches out her slender legs, admiring her robust tan.

“Hey, bitch.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Penny laughs, dropping some popped kernels into her mouth, “Been holding down the fort ok?”

“Yes, believe it or not, I survived a week without you. How was St. Lucia? Was Victor a very good boy?”

Penny smirks. “Always. So good, in fact, I’ve been taking low doses of muscle relaxants for three days to keep myself from getting lockjaw.”

Silver snorts. “That man loves a blow job.”

Penny sifts through some burnt kernels, locating an extra buttery looking piece toward the bottom of the bag and eyeing it like treasure.

“So,” she begins, crunching indelicately into the phone, “Tell me about Shawn Mendes. Who referred him?”

“Niall Horan.”

“Oh, he’s been seeing Karina, right?”

“Yep, she keeps him very much in line. He’s quiet about La Splendeur -- he’s not the guy telling all his friends about how much he’s paying to get dommed by a call girl. He’s selective with his referrals.”

Penny lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. “Those are usually our favorite kind of clients, I guess.”

Silver snorts. “Less messy, certainly. Anyway, Karina adores him, so that bodes well.”

“Who, Shawn?”

“No, actually, as far as I can tell, he’s new. None of my contacts have a history of him seeing anyone.”

Now Penny is really intrigued. It’s not that often she gets a client that has never seen a call girl before. Being a courtesan, the elitest of the elite escorts, clients generally work their way up the food chain to her.

But he’s new. Fresh, untouched, curious. Silver’s right. This is a special treat.

“Well, I downloaded his music, so I’ll have a listen. I recognize a few of the tracks. Anything else I should know?”

“Well, babe, no client history means you start from scratch, research-wise. I’d say be prepared for anything. He seems like your usual sweet, pretty boy, which as you know, can mean anything goes.”

Penny bobs her head thoughtfully, already mentally scanning wardrobe options and toys.

“When?”

“Thursday at 8, Chateau. Give you some time to recover from your potential lockjaw.”

Penny’s laugh is loud and sizzling, one she rarely uses in front of clients, but she and Silver have known each other a long time.

“Good. Plus, I like a few days of anticipation for new guys. Gets ‘em all worked up before I even get in the door.”

“And that is why you’re worth every Penny.”

Penny rolls her eyes and hangs up on the millionth time Silver has made that same adorably stupid joke.

Penny’s always liked the Chateau Marmont. It was the site of her first appointment. She remembers being nauseous with nerves walking through the doors that night, sure she’d be arrested just for stepping foot inside. She felt like she had the word “NEFARIOUS” stamped across her pretty forehead.

But she held her head high and focused on the rhythm of her Jimmy Choos, purchased especially for the occasion, on the fine marble floor. As instructed, she didn’t even spare a glance for the front desk. She strode in, not too fast, not too slow, and headed straight for the elevators. The concierge would recognize her from a picture passed along by her madam, Silver, and let her by without a problem. That’s one of Silver’s treasured trade secrets -- most working girls choose lower key locations for dates. Hiding in plain sight, especially at tourist attractions, heavily reduces suspicion, hence why Silver struck up a deal with the Chateau’s concierge years ago. Her girls get a pass, he gets a cut.

The booking is made under the name of the driver who arrives early to check in and drop off Penny’s suitcase while she window shops nearby or grabs a glass of wine at the bar. When the client arrives and is OK’d by the driver for security reasons, Penny gets a text and makes her entrance. Before the driver excuses himself to the car, he checks in with Silver to make sure the client’s wire transfer is complete. Once those initial checkpoints are crossed, the night is Penny’s.

Tonight is no different, really, Penny tells herself as she steps out of the Bentley, offered a hand by the Chateau’s valet. She sneaks him a sultry smile just because getting men squirming for her before she even meets her client feels like a good way to hype up.

But it feels different, somehow. The Hollywood evening’s breeze is especially pleasant, the hotel is especially quiet, and the night especially charged as she heads inside hugged in tastefully cut black satin and wearing her favorite black Roger Viviers. She ignores the way the hair on the back of her smooth olive neck stands on end when the elevator dings upon arrival to the specified floor.

Gus, standing outside the door in a dark suit with his arms crossed, gives her a nod, indicating all is set and well. She rises on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. She knows by now she can’t make Gus squirm, so she doesn’t try. He stands aside and opens the door.

He’s sitting on the couch, facing the windows on the opposite wall. His posture is hunched and she can see his shoulders are broad. She tries not to lick her lips.

He turns slightly, looking over his shoulder. His profile catches the orange lamplight. It’s even more magnificent in person. Penny feels a jolt from her squished toes up her very straight spine. She smiles.

He stands, one hand limp by his side, the other clutching a sweating glass of bourbon. Penny can’t wait to taste it on his pretty lips.

Facing her, his jaw tightens, muscles flexing, and his eyes darken just a shade, or maybe she imagines it because she bets hers do the same.

“Penny?”

His voice is a croak. He notices -- he goes magenta moments later. The familiar animal that lives in her stirs, stretching, limbering up.

“Hi, Shawn.”

-------

Ooooh it’s that time again! Ya girl has a new solo series to sink her teeth into. If you’re happy and you know it, buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes series

312 notes · View notes

a-tired-bitch · 7 years

Text

You Should Know Better Pt.16

23 Parts: I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX - XXI - XXII - XXIII

MASTER LIST

YSKB MASTER LIST

Summary: Shooting the shit and talking about his wife, Joe and Dustin get a call to a familiar residence.

POV: Joe

Characters: Joe Merriweather, Dustin Ayers (Italics) Vicky (Indented Italics), Doug (Indented Normal)

Word Count: 2700ish

Author’s Note: Thanks to @meanandshallow for the proofing. It’s been exactly a month since I’ve updated, so enjoy Joe and Dustin teasing each other. Ending the decade with YSKB and bringing in the new decade with a Negan AU oneshot, whoop whoop.

Warnings: Even though the call is a domestic, there’s no domestic violence happening. There’s swearing as usual

Quote: "Look, I don’t need all that, I need the cliff note version.“

”…But seriously, you look just as shitty as you did yesterday.“ Dustin muttered with a mouthful of food. “I bet beneath those aviators,” he pointed his fork at Joe, “those pretty brown eyes are cozying up with some black bags.” Scoffing at his own joke, the man turned away, tossing his utensil into a Tupperware before placing it beside him.

With a deep sigh, a slightly hungover Joe brought a hand up to his face, his fingertips disappearing beneath the frames to rub his tired eyes. “Are you flirting with me?” He questioned, dropping his hand onto the door side. “Because if you are, I’m all for a workplace romance, just don’t tell Claire.” Turning slowly, he faced his partner, a playful grin gracing his lips.

“Shit, man, you down for a quickie then? Take this thing to another level?” Dustin leaned out of his window, “We can go behind a building and get frisky in your truck bed. Hell, we can even call Claire and let her watch, but two,” he raised two fingers, “options come from that. Number one:,” he retracted a finger, “having her watch would really rustle her jimmies and then there’s number two:,” he raised his middle finger again, “she’ll love the show so much that she’d want to join, but you see, once we start, I can’t share.”

The two men attempted to keep a hint of seriousness to the conversation, but seconds later, laughter erupted from both vehicles. Joe, on one hand, cocked his head back and slapped his hand again his thigh. Dustin, on the other hand, covered his face and shook his head.

After a few moments of cheerful laughter, Dustin wiped an invisible tear from his cheek as the chuckles turned into scoffs. “On a serious note, how are you? You okay? I know you took Wednesday off from teaching, but have you taken a day off from drinking? My man, have you set the bottle down after the barroom bombshell?”

Speaking of frisky business in a truck bed, the impending threat Joe’s own previous experience with Natalie loomed over him. Quickly shaking his head, he stared back at Dustin whose cheeks were red from laughter. “A mans gotta eat, sleep, shit, and shower, right?”

“He’s gotta rub one out every now and then or get some workplace romance, but yeah, I guess you’re kind of right?” Dustin answered, slightly confused.

With a quick ‘hm’, Joe scoffed before speaking. “I’m doing fine. The whole situation is pretty fucking shitty, but it’s not the end of the world.” Pulling his aviators from his face, Joe tossed them into the adjacent seat. “As for the whole drinking thing. I mean, yeah, I drank that night and the following morning - you left pretty early, so, I drank whatever I had stored away before laying in a puddle of my own pity for the rest of the day.”

Shifting in his seat, Joe wrung out his hands. “But don’t worry, I can control my drinking.” The tone of the older man was sincere and almost apologetic as both men slowly stared at each other, locking eyes, and exchanging a single nod - both well aware of the sensitivity of the topic.

Looking away, Joe turned in his seat, opening the center console and retrieving a crossword puzzle. “Plus, even if I wanted to drink from sunrise to sunset for the last three days, I couldn’t since I’m stuck with your ass for half the day.”

Listening intently to the man, Dustin watched as people walked around the shopping plaza. “Hey, now,” Dustin exclaimed, snapping back to look at Joe. “If you want my ass for the other half of the day, you can have it. Hell, maybe even take shifts, whatever floats your boat and whatever makes you happy.”

Rolling his eyes as far back as he could, an exasperated sigh fell from Joe’s lips as he shook his head.

“Okay, okay, tell me, if drinking and the bombshell aren’t the issues, then what is it?” Dustin asked, picking up on the man’s slight annoyance.

“You’re right, drinking isn’t the issue, but the bombshell is.” Placing the puzzle on his lap, Joe pulled his black-rimmed glasses from the dashboard cubby. “You see, I was able to deal with the stresses of teaching, policing, and Claire leaving, but since she’s back in the picture, like, I know it’s only been a few days, but damn…,” Joe shook his head as if he was punched square in the face, “it’s like everything just fell onto me at once.” Pausing, he placed his glasses on. “Either that or I’m just now realizing my stress.”

Watching the older man brought the puzzle to rest on the steering wheel, Dustin bit down on his lower lip. “Well,” he began, releasing his lip, “the best thing to do is cut out that stress. You see, Claire is the cause to this effect and we both know that’s the best starting point - cut the bitch out and pry those papers from her hands, that’s if she was serious about that thing.” Dustin stared intently at his partner, searching for any sign of emotion. “And if you want, take some time off from teaching the younglings.”

“You just want me to stick around, now don’t you?” Joe teased, his sights never breaking from the paper.

“You caught me there!” Dustin defensively raised his hands before dropping them. “I already lost my wife to a much more civil and clean divorce, but losing you?” Dustin sucked his teeth and squinted his eyes. “Couldn’t do it. Can’t lose my other lover,” he jested.

With his eyes locked onto the puzzle, Joe pointed the pen at the blond-haired man, “I knew it,” he shook his head, “keeping me around for your own selfish needs.” He shook his head as if he was disappointed before switching back to the real topic. “But yeah, I’ll be doing that - the whole cutting, prying, and taking a break thing.”

“Speaking about doing it, how are you and the mom? I’m assuming she knows about the whole divorce slash marriage thing, but does she know about the recent stuff? If not, do you plan on telling her?”

Slowly tearing his gaze from the puzzle, Joe absentmindedly watched the cars on the road before slowly transitioning his sights onto Dustin. Fingers began to mindlessly tap against the paper as the scenario of telling Natalie played in his mind.

With his mouth slightly agape, he returned to his puzzle. “No,” he answered firmly, “I don’t plan on telling her because it’s not her fight to fight and there’s absolutely no need to involve another party into an already messy situation.” He paused for a moment, running a hand along his cheek. “Plus, I’m not romantically involved with her. Like, I’m involved because we’ve had sex and all that shit, but romantically?” Joe scoffed a single time. “No, not at all. At least, for the time being.”

Just as his younger counterpart was about to answer, the crackling of the radio broke through.

Grateful for the interruption, Joe finished writing an answer before returning the puzzle to its rightful resting place.

Listening to the radio and reading the print that popped up on the computer, the information of the call was revealed - it was a domestic situation at a residence Joe was very familiar with.

“Speaking of stress, looks like my favorite lovebirds are at it again.” Joe jested as he brought the truck to life. "I need you to tag along because Doug isn’t a fan of me.“ He ordered before driving off.

The once silent wooded area came to life with the sound of tires rolling over gravel and the engine inching closer to the residence.

Scanning the area, brown eyes hopped from parked cars to a puppy chained near a dog house and eventually up to the trailer where a woman was smoking a cigarette.

With the truck coming to a stop, Joe removed the keys from the ignition and hopped out, clasping the keys onto his belt and slamming the door shut.

Adjusting his duty belt, he made his way over to Dustin. “Every time I come here, I have three issues. Issue one: Doug is usually intoxicated. Issue two: Doug usually goes to jail. And issue three: that poor dog is always chained there. I’m telling you, next time I come out here, I’m taking the fucking thing home with me.

“Any day is a good day when I see Sargent Merriweather.” The woman yelled from the porch, watching as the two men approached the dwelling.

Saluting Vicky with a cordial smile, Joe detoured and walked towards the dog. Upon reaching the pooch, he knelt and welcome the friendly kisses. “I think she means bad day, but who knows,” Joe whispered to the dog.

“Listen, hun, I called you to take Doug to jail, not to play with my dog.“ The woman took a drag from her cigarette. "It’s the same old situation, so, take him and go.”

Taking to his feet, Joe left the dog’s side and made his way up the stairs. “'Same old situation’, huh?” Resting on the last step, he continued. “You guys aren’t even married, so, go to court, evict him, get a restraining order, and press charges. Boom…,” Joe clapped his hands once, the sound echoing throughout the area, “Problem solved. No more ‘same old situation’.”

“I also didn’t call for you to give me advice, I called —.”

“You called us to handle your issue and arrest whoever. Yes, we get it, but we can’t just waltz in and take him. You gotta explain what happened; give us a reason. You know, establish the elements and if anything even happened.” Dustin interrupted, annoyance running high in his tone.

Taken back by Dustin’s comment, Joe exchanged a glance with the man. “Kid’s got a point.” He admitted, shifting on the wooden steps. “Now why don’t you tell us what happened,” Joe said sternly, retrieving a pen and notepad from his pocket.

With raised brows, the woman glared at Dustin, the two of them engaging in a battle of eye contact. “Look, I’d love to have this contest, but to be quite honest, we’ve got better things to do, like figuring out what happened.”

“I’m not a fan of you, Officer…,“ she leaned in, reading the name on his tag. "D. Ayers.”

“It’s okay, ma'am, I don’t get paid to be liked nor to have fans. I get paid to enforce the law and handle issues.”

Stepping onto the porch, Joe situated himself between the two bodies. “Stop it.” He ordered, glancing over his shoulder. “Both of you.” He cautioned his partner before turning back to Vicky. “Tell me what happened.”

Faking a laugh, Vicky discarded her cigarette. “I come home from work and this lousy sack of shit is sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by a mess of cigarette butts, beer cans, and TV dinners…,” taking to her feet, she approached the duo, “anyways, I start bitchin’ at him to get a job, he starts bitchin’, and even the dog starts bitchin’. It’s not even that —”

Looking up from his paper, Joe rolled his head, cracking his neck. “Look, I don’t need all that, I need the cliff note version.” Peering through the screen door, Joe noticed Doug getting up. “Tell me, did anything physical happen between the two of you? Did you hit him or did he hit you? If you answer ‘yes’ to any of these questions, explain to me why verbal turned into physical.”

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Joe motioned towards the door, resulting in Dustin approaching it and Joe staring back at Vicky.

“No and no, but he’s drunk and I want him —.”

Joe raised his hand to stop her. “Listen, you have experience with this type of situation after my last visit. If Doug is just drinking and laying on the couch, doing nothing, well, he isn’t committing a crime. You didn’t hit him. He didn’t hit you. Just leave the drunk alone. Now, if it’s a physical altercation, then call us, we’ll be happy to handle it, but right now, our hands are tied.”

The opening of the front door forced Joe to look at the incoming party member. “Surprise, we’re back for the second time this month.” Joe deadpanned, watching as the man stood in the doorway.

“Sorry, popo, can’t come in. Don’t wanna catch swine flu, not after last time.” Doug insulted, ignoring the greeting and poking Joe in the chest twice.

Taking a step back, Joe glanced at Dustin before clasping his hands over his crotch. “Doug, I’ve been nice and have always worked with you, but right now, I’m going to strongly advise you to not poke me because the cordial attitude I have is going to go out the window and you’re going to get an attitude you don’t like.”

Eyeing the man, Joe watched as he dug his hands into his jean shorts. “Going to have to advise you keep your hands out of your pockets, too.”

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?” The man asked with a scoff as he took his hands out and lifted them.

Annoyed, Joe dropped his head, his eyes lingering on the wooden panels for a moment. “Yeah, because that’s what we do. We shoot people. We cause harm to people. We make peoples lives turn into horrible messes. ”

Coming into the situation, annoyance and lack of patience was running high for the officer - partly due to his slightly hungover state and the stress that was constantly running through his mind - but with that comment, tension in the air slowly began to rise.

“Am I feeling threatened right now? Am I grabbing for my gun? Do you see it out? Do you plan on doing something that forces me to retrieve either my gun or taser?” Joe questioned, snapping up to look at the disgruntled man who answered him with a slurred 'no’.

“Then calm down, pal. Everything was going smoothly until you came out. Hell, we weren’t even going to take you away, but keep it up and I might have a change of heart - I’d hate to drag you out and scuffle with you like last time.”

“You ain’t nothing but a badge and a couple of pussies.”

Pressing his lips together only for him to bare his teeth a second later, Joe rested his hands his belt while glancing up to the darkening sky. “You know what? Go ahead and put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for breach of peace.”

With the man obeying his commands and letting a string of derogatory insults and curses fall from his drunken lips, Joe cuffed him, searching his body just a seconds later.

“Watch, I’ll be out tonight or tomorrow. Just wait and see.”

Pushing the man forward, the three men made their way down the steps and towards Dustin’s SUV. “Yeah, you very well may be.”

“Yeah?,” the man asked, whipping his head around to look at the officer, “Well, you very well might lose your life.”

“You’re absolutely correct but what’s that mean?” Pulling the man back, forcing him to stop, Joe watched as he stumbled over his feet, nearly falling onto the gravel. “Threatening the life of a police officer, nice job on tacking on another charge.”

Approaching the door to his cruiser, Dustin reached out to open the door, only for a mouthful of spit to land on the handle.

“Whoops, I meant to spit on the ground.” Doug sassed, a grin on his face.

In an instant, flesh met steel as Joe pressed his body up against the drunk, squishing him against steel and flesh. “Double D - Difficult Doug, that’s your new name. Every time you’re in cuffs, you’ve gotta bust my balls. If you could just cooperate, things would be easy peasy.”

Pulling away, Joe dragged the man backwards, careful with his steps, he made his way over to the adjacent side of the car.

“I’ll be seeing you again, trust me. What’s your name?” Doug asked as he was pushed into the backseat.

“Too drunk to even remember my name.” Joe scolded, “Don’t worry, it will be on the warrant and report.”

“Be on your tombstone, too.”

Ignoring the threat, Joe slammed the door closed. “See, I told you he wasn’t a fan of me.” Joe chuckled, walking over to Dustin, patting the man on the back. “The perks of having no cage - I don’t have to listen to assholes on the way to the station.”

112 notes · View notes