More Locke & Key
Dec. 17th, 2007 05:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrOnly four pages or so. Unbeta'ed, will post properly and neatly at some point >_>;;
"You stupid son of a bitch," Locke said, just standing and gawking.
Key grinned and added fuel to the fire by pulling down the brim of the gimme cap he wore – black with a detailed bat stitched in silver thread, with brilliant red eyes. Locke loved that hat, he wore it constantly unless he was on a job.
On top of all that, the motherfucker was holding a cup of coffee and had a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth.
"You just love pissing me off, don't you, asshole?" Locke groused, stomping loudly across the cement floor of the workshop to where he kept all his guns. Pointedly ignoring Key, he set to work checking, cleaning, and reloading his guns before locking all but one of the Blackhawks away.
That done, he stripped off his jacket, sweater, and undershirt, then moved to a backroom to finish stripping before he stepped into the shower area. Once this had been a locker room, and it still showed in the benches and lockers, the ugly tile and half dozen shower heads. Cheap rent, though, and by the month – all they really needed. Not much longer they'd probably be moving on further south. He fucking refused to hunt vamps further north this time of year unless it was strictly necessary.
Finished showering, he grabbed a tower from the row of hooks and scrubbed his hair mostly dry before toweling off. Moving to the first row of lockers, he opened the third one down and pulled out clean boxers, socks, undershirt. Opening the next one, he tugged on jeans that were neither too tight nor too loose. Tugging on a long-sleeved red t-shirt, he sat down to pull on his boots, then finally returned to the workshop.
A fresh cup of coffee, a plate of cookies, and his gimme cap waited on his makeshift desk. Grunting, he drank half the hot coffee in one long swallow, then tugged on his cap and snatched up a cookie.
Yummy.
"You're still an asshole," he said eventually.
Key laughed. He had platinum hair, blue eyes, and a pretty face – the spitting image of an angel or a mama's boy. Except for the part where he was a smartass, troublemaking computer nerd with a death wish. "Job well done, sweetheart. Sit back and relax, stop getting so uptight."
"Something about you brings out the uptight in me," Locke replied dryly.
"I can ease that uptight, you know."
Locked groaned. "Don't start with me," he said.
Key just grinned his evil grin, the one that could also be insanely hot at the worst possible moments. Namely when Locke's libido needed an ice-cold shower before he did something stupid.
He didn't know why he kept resisting, because if there was one thing Key had always made clear it was interest in Locke – but he couldn't quite give in. Something held him. A niggling sense that said it would be a bad idea, and Locke had learned the hard and painful way to trust his instincts.
Those instincts said he could trust Key with his life…but weren't fly with fucking him. Which was too bad, because he wanted to see what that pretty but dirty mouth looked like around his cock.
Shifting in his seat, Locke summoned a scowl to counter that damned grin.
"Come on," Key goaded. "We're a regular bad porn joke, obviously it's meant to be."
Locked groaned.
Key just grinned. "Key. Locke."
"Wrong," Locke replied, despite knowing it was always stupid to actually attempt these discussions. "We've got two keys and no locks. So shut up."
The evil in Key's smile cranked up about three notches. "Not if it's a key for the back d—"
"Shut up!" Locke half-shouted the words to drown Key out, mortified and maybe the slightest bit not mortified, which was more upsetting. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked desperately.
"Yeah, yeah," Key said cheerfully, though Locke didn't miss the slight disappointment in his eyes.
He couldn't help it. Something about Key, despite their being partners in hunting for the past five and a half years, nagged at him.
Maybe it was just the lingering foul taste of his last partner coloring his perception and fucking up his instinct. He'd pondered that possibility before. Steven had been perfect – partner, friend, lover. All of it. Until he'd put a knife – literally and figuratively – in Locke's back.
Key had approached him in a bar in California one night, knowing way more than Locke had thought anyone should know. Since then, he'd learned Key was good at knowing shit he shouldn't. Way too fucking good, but at least usually it worked to Locke's advantage.
He'd agreed to cooperate with Key for a job or two. When he'd finally left California, however, Key had been with him. They worked well together, despite the chronic smart ass from which Key suffered.
Despite the fact he was keeping a secret. Locke knew enough about secrets to know Key was keeping one, and that – no doubt combined with his past – kept him from making more than a few enthusiastic fantasies reality.
He ate another cookies as he wrote a report on the night's events.
Five minutes after he emailed it home, a chat window popped up on his screen.
Locke rolled his eyes, and typed to his mother that he was fine, the average hadn't even fucking touched him, the bullets were perfect and the cookies tasty.
An hour later she finally signed off to go to bed – no doubt his father had been yelling at her for the past forty five minutes – and went to get more coffee.
He smiled faintly to see Key had made him a fresh pot, and went in search of his geek.
The bottom floor of the building they were renting had been workshop of some sort, the kind to require a locker room. Upstairs had clearly been living quarters, likely for whoever had owned the workshop.
Key was stretched out on a ratty couch in the living area, something they'd scrounged for twenty bucks from college students desperate to get rid of it. They'd cleaned and de-fouled it as best they could, but Key had still thrown a quilt over it. He lay with his head on the farthest armrest, so he faced the door, and flicked his eyes up as Locke appeared.
"Thanks for the coffee," Locke said.
"Sure," Key said quietly.
"Who are you chatting with?" Locke asked moving to the couch and lifting Key's feet, sitting down before letting them fall across his.
"Old friend in Cali," Key replied. "I was asking him about our average."
Locke grunted. "I'd have asked my folks, but fuck – I'd still be talking to my mother. I'm going to fucking kill Billie for teaching her how to use a computer – and instant chat."
Key laughed and playfully dug his heel into Locke's thigh. "Your mom is cute. At least when she's bugging you and not me. She thinks I'm good for you, by the way. I didn't tell you that."
"Yeah, yeah," Locke said, and took a sip of coffee to avoid saying or doing something stupid.
Key sighed softly. "We've got only the park to investigate, but likely it'll only be one broken. By end of week we can move south. That should make you happy." He closed his laptop with a faint click and set it aside, folding his arms beneath his head. "I called ahead to price places to stay. Nice little thing by the sea. No one wants it 'cause people were murdered there."
"Right up our alley, then," Locke said, drinking more of his coffee.
"Billie recommended it," Key replied. "Your little brother is like a vampire hunter slash real estate agent."
Locke sniggered at the idea of Billie as a real estate agent. "I think it's more than he's good at finding places to hide." He stifled a yawn. "I guess if we're moving soon, we should start packing and shit. What's this thing in the park?"
"Crazy homeless guy, according to the natives, except he likes to attack people – a few have reported that he tried to bite them. Cops have tried to find him, but never have any luck."
"Easy enough," Locke said, finishing his coffee and bending a bit to set the mug on the floor. He leaned back with a soft sigh, resting his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes.
He wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, but that required moving.
The feet resting on his lap vanished, and he heard Key move. Then a warm hand lay gently against his cheek, soft against the stubble of his cheek.
"You're an idiot," Key said, and there was no mistaking the affection mingled with the frustration in his voice.
It hurt, and though it was probably more imagination than reality, it also made the old scar on his back hurt. He didn't want to face another betrayal someday, not matter how much he might care about his partner.
He cracked his eyes open, instantly taken by the goddamn wow of them. So fucking blue. His own were a muddy brown color. "You have no room to talk."
"Tell me about it," Key said softly. "You'd think after over five years of 'not interested' that I'd fucking give up."
Locke frowned. "Yeah, well. You haven't quite making your idiotic jokes, either."
"Guess I'm dense or stubborn."
"Yeah, but you're pretty. It's allowed."
Key laughed briefly, then leaned in just close enough to brush a feather soft kiss across Locke's lip. In the next breath he was gone, and Locke was alone. The room was quiet, but his thoughts were plenty loud enough.
"You stupid son of a bitch," Locke said, just standing and gawking.
Key grinned and added fuel to the fire by pulling down the brim of the gimme cap he wore – black with a detailed bat stitched in silver thread, with brilliant red eyes. Locke loved that hat, he wore it constantly unless he was on a job.
On top of all that, the motherfucker was holding a cup of coffee and had a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth.
"You just love pissing me off, don't you, asshole?" Locke groused, stomping loudly across the cement floor of the workshop to where he kept all his guns. Pointedly ignoring Key, he set to work checking, cleaning, and reloading his guns before locking all but one of the Blackhawks away.
That done, he stripped off his jacket, sweater, and undershirt, then moved to a backroom to finish stripping before he stepped into the shower area. Once this had been a locker room, and it still showed in the benches and lockers, the ugly tile and half dozen shower heads. Cheap rent, though, and by the month – all they really needed. Not much longer they'd probably be moving on further south. He fucking refused to hunt vamps further north this time of year unless it was strictly necessary.
Finished showering, he grabbed a tower from the row of hooks and scrubbed his hair mostly dry before toweling off. Moving to the first row of lockers, he opened the third one down and pulled out clean boxers, socks, undershirt. Opening the next one, he tugged on jeans that were neither too tight nor too loose. Tugging on a long-sleeved red t-shirt, he sat down to pull on his boots, then finally returned to the workshop.
A fresh cup of coffee, a plate of cookies, and his gimme cap waited on his makeshift desk. Grunting, he drank half the hot coffee in one long swallow, then tugged on his cap and snatched up a cookie.
Yummy.
"You're still an asshole," he said eventually.
Key laughed. He had platinum hair, blue eyes, and a pretty face – the spitting image of an angel or a mama's boy. Except for the part where he was a smartass, troublemaking computer nerd with a death wish. "Job well done, sweetheart. Sit back and relax, stop getting so uptight."
"Something about you brings out the uptight in me," Locke replied dryly.
"I can ease that uptight, you know."
Locked groaned. "Don't start with me," he said.
Key just grinned his evil grin, the one that could also be insanely hot at the worst possible moments. Namely when Locke's libido needed an ice-cold shower before he did something stupid.
He didn't know why he kept resisting, because if there was one thing Key had always made clear it was interest in Locke – but he couldn't quite give in. Something held him. A niggling sense that said it would be a bad idea, and Locke had learned the hard and painful way to trust his instincts.
Those instincts said he could trust Key with his life…but weren't fly with fucking him. Which was too bad, because he wanted to see what that pretty but dirty mouth looked like around his cock.
Shifting in his seat, Locke summoned a scowl to counter that damned grin.
"Come on," Key goaded. "We're a regular bad porn joke, obviously it's meant to be."
Locked groaned.
Key just grinned. "Key. Locke."
"Wrong," Locke replied, despite knowing it was always stupid to actually attempt these discussions. "We've got two keys and no locks. So shut up."
The evil in Key's smile cranked up about three notches. "Not if it's a key for the back d—"
"Shut up!" Locke half-shouted the words to drown Key out, mortified and maybe the slightest bit not mortified, which was more upsetting. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked desperately.
"Yeah, yeah," Key said cheerfully, though Locke didn't miss the slight disappointment in his eyes.
He couldn't help it. Something about Key, despite their being partners in hunting for the past five and a half years, nagged at him.
Maybe it was just the lingering foul taste of his last partner coloring his perception and fucking up his instinct. He'd pondered that possibility before. Steven had been perfect – partner, friend, lover. All of it. Until he'd put a knife – literally and figuratively – in Locke's back.
Key had approached him in a bar in California one night, knowing way more than Locke had thought anyone should know. Since then, he'd learned Key was good at knowing shit he shouldn't. Way too fucking good, but at least usually it worked to Locke's advantage.
He'd agreed to cooperate with Key for a job or two. When he'd finally left California, however, Key had been with him. They worked well together, despite the chronic smart ass from which Key suffered.
Despite the fact he was keeping a secret. Locke knew enough about secrets to know Key was keeping one, and that – no doubt combined with his past – kept him from making more than a few enthusiastic fantasies reality.
He ate another cookies as he wrote a report on the night's events.
Five minutes after he emailed it home, a chat window popped up on his screen.
Locke rolled his eyes, and typed to his mother that he was fine, the average hadn't even fucking touched him, the bullets were perfect and the cookies tasty.
An hour later she finally signed off to go to bed – no doubt his father had been yelling at her for the past forty five minutes – and went to get more coffee.
He smiled faintly to see Key had made him a fresh pot, and went in search of his geek.
The bottom floor of the building they were renting had been workshop of some sort, the kind to require a locker room. Upstairs had clearly been living quarters, likely for whoever had owned the workshop.
Key was stretched out on a ratty couch in the living area, something they'd scrounged for twenty bucks from college students desperate to get rid of it. They'd cleaned and de-fouled it as best they could, but Key had still thrown a quilt over it. He lay with his head on the farthest armrest, so he faced the door, and flicked his eyes up as Locke appeared.
"Thanks for the coffee," Locke said.
"Sure," Key said quietly.
"Who are you chatting with?" Locke asked moving to the couch and lifting Key's feet, sitting down before letting them fall across his.
"Old friend in Cali," Key replied. "I was asking him about our average."
Locke grunted. "I'd have asked my folks, but fuck – I'd still be talking to my mother. I'm going to fucking kill Billie for teaching her how to use a computer – and instant chat."
Key laughed and playfully dug his heel into Locke's thigh. "Your mom is cute. At least when she's bugging you and not me. She thinks I'm good for you, by the way. I didn't tell you that."
"Yeah, yeah," Locke said, and took a sip of coffee to avoid saying or doing something stupid.
Key sighed softly. "We've got only the park to investigate, but likely it'll only be one broken. By end of week we can move south. That should make you happy." He closed his laptop with a faint click and set it aside, folding his arms beneath his head. "I called ahead to price places to stay. Nice little thing by the sea. No one wants it 'cause people were murdered there."
"Right up our alley, then," Locke said, drinking more of his coffee.
"Billie recommended it," Key replied. "Your little brother is like a vampire hunter slash real estate agent."
Locke sniggered at the idea of Billie as a real estate agent. "I think it's more than he's good at finding places to hide." He stifled a yawn. "I guess if we're moving soon, we should start packing and shit. What's this thing in the park?"
"Crazy homeless guy, according to the natives, except he likes to attack people – a few have reported that he tried to bite them. Cops have tried to find him, but never have any luck."
"Easy enough," Locke said, finishing his coffee and bending a bit to set the mug on the floor. He leaned back with a soft sigh, resting his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes.
He wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, but that required moving.
The feet resting on his lap vanished, and he heard Key move. Then a warm hand lay gently against his cheek, soft against the stubble of his cheek.
"You're an idiot," Key said, and there was no mistaking the affection mingled with the frustration in his voice.
It hurt, and though it was probably more imagination than reality, it also made the old scar on his back hurt. He didn't want to face another betrayal someday, not matter how much he might care about his partner.
He cracked his eyes open, instantly taken by the goddamn wow of them. So fucking blue. His own were a muddy brown color. "You have no room to talk."
"Tell me about it," Key said softly. "You'd think after over five years of 'not interested' that I'd fucking give up."
Locke frowned. "Yeah, well. You haven't quite making your idiotic jokes, either."
"Guess I'm dense or stubborn."
"Yeah, but you're pretty. It's allowed."
Key laughed briefly, then leaned in just close enough to brush a feather soft kiss across Locke's lip. In the next breath he was gone, and Locke was alone. The room was quiet, but his thoughts were plenty loud enough.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-17 06:20 pm (UTC)I still can't help but wish for a dead (more like undead) sexy vampire somewhere in this story.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-17 09:11 pm (UTC)