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You're under arrest! (Hat/Rawrg)

Hat-tori

Hat-tori

Supernova
Joined
Jan 9, 2009
Boring.

That was the easiest, simplist way to describe this goddam tiny hamlet he'd been transferred to. Boring. No clubs, no drugs, no gangs, no organized crime, nothing! A population smaller than his extended family, everything was miles apart, and there was almost no transit to speak of. No nightlife, either. It. Was. Boring.

Of course, the other boys in the station liked it that way. Freddy understood. It was quiet, safe, laid-back. Nice, if you liked to get paid for paperwork and saving kittens. Freddy came from New York and was transferred to Seattle before coming to this middle-eastern thorp in pubes of nowhere, and that kinda job didn't sit well with him. Sure, maybe he was a little violent, but it was a neccessary evil where he came from. Now that he was here, he felt like a pihrana in a goldfish bowl. Misplaced.

Once he'd shaved and gotten into his uniform and gear, he took one of the two patrol cars and decided, what the hell, might as well make the rounds. Maybe Ms. Goldie got lost again, bless her addled heart. Or maybe Finches got stuck in the tree? He was about ready to pound his forehead into the steering column when he saw a familiar sight.

A tagger.
They were easy to spot with a trained eye, even a block away. They thought wearing black made them inconspicous at night, even when they were painting on a brick wall. It helped, but on a night with a good moon, it made then stand out worse. He pulled over out of earshot and walked up behind the kid slowly.

"Alright, I'll be taking that can now and you'll be coming with me to the station." he said. "You picked a bad night to have fun on the town.
 
Jullian was quite self-satisfied at the moment. This little podunk town he lived in was miserable, he hated it--the only solace he took in living there was that his was the only 'real' work displayed on every building he could manage to plaster it on. His high school art teacher had been telling him for nearly two years that he was amazingly talented, that he should share it with the world--and that was exactly what he was doing.

In front of him was a thin layer of lime green spray paint which faded into electric blue. It read "Mindless Self Indul--" because he hadn't gotten the '--gence' at the end yet. He was working on the g and e when, suddenly, he was startled into nearly dropping his can of paint by the sound of another man behind him. Under his breath, he cursed himself.

"Fuck..." Swallowing hard, still crouched, he almost started to quiver. Run? No, he couldn't run to save his life... the smoking had done that to him. He currently had a cigarette tucked behind his ear and would have been smoking it if he hadn't been covering his mouth with a ripped t-shirt so he didn't inhale paint fumes. With a hard swallow, he turned on his heal, giving the police man a fierce glare through his goggles.

His glare almost--almost--faltered when he saw the man. He was not the local po-po; or was he the new police man everyone had been concerned over? Someone with a rap for violence. This gorgeous man was that police officer? Jullian swallowed dryly and stuffed his t-shirt into his pocket, having already removed it from his mouth, which was pursed into a thin line. His hair shifted as he did so, blue ends shimmering a bit in the moonlight.

There was no way this was going on his record. It was just tagging, and the city cleaned it up after a few weeks anyways. No one gave a damn so long as it wasn't 'vulgar'.

Quite suddenly, he hurled the spray paint at the cop and made a break for it. His heavy tennis shoes scraped against the pavement as he hurtled down the sidewalk at top speed; it wasn't that he couldn't run fast, it was just that he couldn't go for a very long time--five, ten minutes tops. He hoped it would be enough.
 
Freddy caught the can and gave chase. It didn't take long, he caught the kid in a nearby alleyway. "They always fucking run." he grumbled. "Seriously, kid, why did you think you could get away?" he asked, tossing the can into the nearby garbage can. "Sorry about this, but you decided to run away." he pulled the kid's hands behind his back and cuffed him up easily, carefully placing him in the squad car.

"Don't worry. You'll be staying overnight at worst, but its your own damn fault." he looked over at the work and sighed. "You could have actually tried for something better than a goddamned band name. It looks nice and all, but seriously." he sighed as he pulled back onto the road. "It's a long way back, so let's have us a little chat, okay?" he asked, driving with one hand while the other lay over the back of the chair.
 
Julian let out a cry of both displeasure and pain when he was tackled to the ground. The man was unnecessarily rough with him, he thought, and wondered if he could get him on police brutality. It wasn't as if his dad would care if he were arrested--might even be proud to find out his faggot son did something manly--it was the disappointment in his mom's eyes that he wouldn't be able to stand. He almost cried whenever he thought about it, though now he only winced.

The cigarette was still firmly tucked behind his ear when he was dragged to the cop car and tucked inside. He didn't speak, instead slumped into the chair, glad that, at least, they were designed so that people who were cuffed weren't too uncomfortable. And wasn't that ridiculous? To make arrested people comfortable... It made him give a wry grin to the window beside him, which he was content to stare out of.

"Just because you don't like cock suckers and butt fuckers doesn't mean I can't." Julian informed the older man, in reference to the band. The main singer was, in popular knowledge, gay. He let out a heavy sigh as he sat back against the chair, stretching the body within his black sweatshirt and jeans. It was a Sunday night, so he was going to be late for school in the morning--which was the only real solace he could take in going to jail for the night. It was his second offense, he reminded himself, and he would have to be more careful the next time he tagged something.
 
"Who says I don't?" asked Freddy. "It's illegal to tag buildings because they belong to others. Even public property. Be glad I didn't get you on something really bothersome, like possesion or something similar." he sighed heavily. "Would you believe you're the only one that's been in the station for a whole damn month? This whole town bores the everloving shit outta me, pardon my spanish." he drove lazily.

"Now, a peice of art, a landscape, something you can pass off as a mural, that's cool." he said. "I remember a guy in New York got paid to tag." he said. "This place needs a little color, you know?" he smiled into the rearveiw mirror. "Besides, I've been on edge all week, helping little old ladies and frickin cats. Thanks."
 
Julian grumbled something to himself about cops never liking gay guys, but then stopped short. Was this guy gay? Could he whore himself out of having his parents called? Probably not, but he could try, couldn't he? No, he thought after a moment, turning back to the window. That wasn't okay, even for his illegal ass. Maybe if the guy offered him the option, but he wasn't promiscuous enough to put himself out there. After the man thanked him, Julian suddenly gave a violent cough, his body lurching forward for a moment. He soon relaxed again, though, and leaned his head back against the seat.

"Man, I need a smoke." He said, half-grumbling, "Can I light up at the station or will you bust me for that, too?" He asked, then almost regretted it. He was almost eighteen anyways, he told himself, and he hadn't bought them illegally. A 'friend' had gotten them for him.

Another heavy sigh later, he spread his legs a bit, trying to get more comfortable. Having his arms tied behind his back was incredibly awkward. He shifted for a few more seconds, then gave up, his knees falling apart in defeat. When he wasn't scowling, Julian had a cute face; angled, but not sharp, young but not baby. His grey eyes were the colour of gorged storm clouds, flecks of blue making them shimmer. His white hair was obviously a fashion statement, but it worked with his skin tone, as did the blue. His clothes were splattered with paint--obviously he was an art student. All in all, not a bad look, really.
 
"Sorry, not in the patrol car. Not even the officers can light up in here." he said. "Once you're in your cell for the night, I'll gift you one, but only because you're making this place a bit brighter." he said with a smile, his eyes scanning the boy. Attractive.... if young. He estimated a three or more year age difference. And that was being hopeful... Wait, was he actually crushing on what looked like a seventeen year old?

"Like I said." he said, "This place is boring as hell." he thought for a moment. "Tell you what. Come meet me at the station in a few days. I got an idea that'll make this town at least a little more fun to drive through, eh?" He had an idea. It was simple: Ask the owners of the property what kind of art they wanted, and have the kid deliver if he wanted. That way, at least both parties would be in on it.
 
Julian nodded in understanding, then coughed again, this time doubling forward. After a moment or two he sat back, wheezing a little. He swallowed and let his pink lips part slightly, eyes closed, legs relaxing more. After a moment he opened his eyes, shaking his hair into what he thought was the proper position.

"Running makes my lungs itch." He explained half-heartedly, then looked up at the man in the rear-view mirror. There was no denying in; this po-po was hot. The long hair, tied back neatly, scruffy face, sharp eyes... toned body... He let himself slip into lust for a moment, then ripped his eyes away, back at the passing midnight blackness.

"Will community service clear my record?" Julian asked, closing his eyes, deciding it was less boring than looking out the window, "It did last time, but I was only twelve then, so I dunno how much the system's changed." It made him almost ashamed to tell this man that he had been caught before--he should have either wised up and stopped tagging, or stopped getting caught. Oh well, he thought to himself, blowing a lock of white hair off the tip of his nose.
 
"Well, yeah." he said. "I'm a big fan of volunteer work, but I'll be really nicve and count this thing I got planned as community service. Because honestly, it is." he smiled as he pulled into the station, and got out of the car to help him out. As he did so, he smiled. "I notived the way you looked at me." he said quietly. "Be careful, I can read people's faces easily."

He chuckled as he led the kid into the station, leading him through the routines, uncuffing him and shutting him into the cell. He then sat in the chair next to it with a heavy sigh. "And guess where I have to stay for the rest of the night?" he asked with a cocked brow. "You bag 'em, you watch 'em." he groaned as he rummaged through the desk, procuring a ciggerate. "Here." he said, handing it to him.
 
Blush streaked across Julian's face when the other man said that. He swallowed dryly and looked at his paint-stained shoes, following along with the other man in his baggy clothes. Once in the cell, he began to wring his wrists, getting the pain from the cuffs off. Weren't the cops supposed to use those weird plastic pully-thingies nowadays? He sighed and leaned heavily against the brick wall, facing away from the other man, still grasping his wrists. When he was offered a cigarette, he jumped to attention, breaking the staring contest he had been having with the white paint of his cell. Turning to face the other man, he gave a light smirk, grabbing his own from behind his ear.

"I just needed free hands, actually, but thanks." He murmured, and stepped towards the cell door as he fished around in his pocket. He pulled a box of matches from within, lit one of the wooden sticks and then his cigarette, then held the little paper box out to the other man. "I assume you'll want these," He said, reaching a slender, almost feminine hand through the bars as he took a long draw on his smoke, "So I don't try to kill myself via tiny wooden stick attack, or something equally stupid."

After the other man took them, the boy walked back over to the bench in the cell, plopping down on it, leaning over his knees as he smoked. Nicotine coursed through him and soothed his addicted brain cells, making him relax visibly, slumping back against the wall.
 
Freddy smiled.
"The name's Freddy, by the way." he said, looking into a newspaper. "Surprised this thing isn't blank. I don't envy the journalists here." he said quietly. He looked over at the kid. "That reminds me of the call to your parents..." he said, rubbing his stubble. "Tell you what, I'll talk to them myself. You're a good kid. I think. So... yeah, I'll put a good spin on it. 'Cause you remind me of someone I know a few years ago." he said, turning the pages.

Reminds me of me when I was that age. he thought. Course, I was hunting down gangs and beating up thugs, not painting buildings, but same diff. Just needs to be channeled is all. A little... discipline. he licked his lips at the last word.
 
Julian didn't even look up. He took a long draw on his cigarette, eyes closed, goggles sliding down his nose a bit. "Freddy or Frederick?" He asked, after a moment, then took another long draw, blowing the smoke out through pursed lips. He was growing stifled in this over-heated jail cell and wanted to take off his hoodie.

With cigarette firmly held between his lips, he unzipped his outer layer of clothing, then tossed it to the side. It turned out to be his only layer of clothing, at least on his upper body. His chest was now displayed to Freddy (or Frederick) in all its porcelain glory. There was but one blemish on it, and that was a large, angular scar that ran diagonally over his left peck, just barely missing his nipple. His arms were toned and he was very fit, a faded six pack adorning his belly. His navel was pierced, too, though it was only a simple stud. If one looked at him close enough, they would discover his right ear was pierced multiple times, showing the world that he was, in fact, gay. Very gay. Seven misfit silver hoops of gay.

After shedding his sweatshirt, he also relieved himself of his goggles, his whole face finally visible. His eyes sparkled even in the dim light of his cell, their lids half-way down as he took another long draw on his cigarette, releasing the smoke with a heavy sigh. He looked at the ashen end of it glumly; it was running low already. Stupid cheapies. He took one final draw on it, long and satisfying, then dropped the butt to the ground and smashed it with the heal of his shoe.

A long breath expelled the smoke, then he looked over at Freddy again, only moving his eyes. "I'm Julian."
 
Freddy blinked, the top of the newspaper folding over as if to illustrate his surprise. He had a sudden coughing fit, then read more intently. "N-nice to meet you." he said, barely audible. He could barely stand it! he looked so... tasty. He took a deep breath, unsure what more to say to the boy.

"Ahem. So... ah... how do you feel about commisions?" he asked warily, as if worried the pants would hit him in the face. "Do you do them?" he asked, turning the page. He absently wondered where the scar was from. He's too young, damnit! Wait half a year!
 
Julian smirked, repositioning himself on the bench to lean back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. It was now evident that the skinny-jeans didn't fit his ass well, because they rode low on his hips, the bones protruding from his bare sides. One could see the beginnings of his pubis just above his studded belt. He pushed his fingers idly back through his hair, closing his eyes, wondering what time it was--one, two? Probably closer to two, it had been twelve-thirty when he had started his tag.

"No one's ever asked me." He informed Freddy. The tone of his voice hadn't changed the entire evening--he seemed quite bored with the whole situation, though it might have been that he was tired and needed sleep. He noted the drooping of his eyelids and the slight lull of his own head. He was only a high school student, after all--it would be at least a year until he was ready to stay up all night two days in a row.

"Why?" He suddenly asked, forcing his eyes open, adjusting his hips on the bench, "Want a naked portrait for your girlfriend, or something?" After he asked, he knit his eyebrows together, as if confused with himself. What kind of a question was that? He flipped his hair again, pushed his fingers through it, then sat back against the wall again. Lucky for Freddy, Julian wasn't the most observant guy in the world, so he hadn't noticed anything odd in the other man.
 
Freddy blushed and looked at his newspaper.
"I meant for the property owners." he said, hastily. Great, a whole night of this! It couldn't get any worse/better. He sighed, put down the paper and looked him in the eyes. "Look, I can't take it anymore. Do you have to beat away the guys with a stick?" he smiled wryly. "Sorry, I'm way too old for this shit..." he shook his head, sitting on the desk. "Betcha have a boy already, lucky bastard. In a small town like this..."

"All the good ones are taken, you know?" he asked, taking apart his gun to clean it. "In New York, it wasn't so bad, you could hop from bar to bar, figure out the hangouts... it was almost a game. But here? One bar. And it's shit."
 
Julian released a chuckle. So he was gay, go figure. The boy sighed and stood, walking to the cell door, wrapping slender fingers around the thick iron bars. He pressed his body up against the cold metal, causing his nipples to stiffen quickly, his lips pursed.

"It took me a long time to come out to my parents, I only told them this year after my birthday. That's when I got the scar. I didn't really want to find out what would happen if I brought a guy home, you know?" Sad eyes looked into Freddy's for a moment, then away as Julian turned and leaned back against the cell door, his porcelain back displayed to Fred. There was one flaw on it, like on his chest, though this one seemed purposeful. A butterfly rested on the left side of his lower back. It was a beautiful deep blue, delicate and lovely. Without a thought about it, he closed his eyes, pushing the fingers of one hand through his hair.

"Can I have that cigarette now?" He asked, blandly, and moved to look into Freddy's eyes again. "I had a guy, for a while, but he moved on, went to college, left me behind." There was almost detectable bitterness in his voice. "He and I were about the only faggots around--the others are whiney freshman trying to make a counter-culture statement... 'Only the cool guys kiss', yeah right. The idiots kiss and wait to reap in the women, as if any woman knows how to approach a gay man..." He suddenly blushed and shut his mouth, looking at the cement floor. "Sorry, I'm ranting..."
 
"It's fine." he said. "Man, you need to get outta this town." he sighed as he pulled out a cig, handing it to him through the bars. "It's so old-valued, I half expect people to call out 'OOOOMEEEN!' when they see six crows or something. It's like I stepped into the fucking Crucible."
He stretched a little, putting his gun back together. "When the time comes, I'll have a personal word with your father about that."

He paused.

"It was your dad, right? You don't have some sorta super-single-mom?" he asked, trying to make a little light of the situation.

He remembered when the old station in New York found out.
He was moved a week later, all the way to Seattle. They said it was about some brutality, but he knew the truth. He barely lasted longer in Seattle.
"Trust me when I say that I've had similar problems, kiddo."
 
When he was offered the cigarette, Julian paused. He wasn't sure he wanted to just take it. That was no fun! Especially since he knew the older man was gay too. He grinned for a moment, then licked his lips, slowly and sensually. With a slight bend in his waist, he took he cigarette in between his lips, closing his eyes. He lingered a moment and then pulled back, taking the cigarette with him, winking at Freddy flirtatiously.

"Can I have a light?" He asked coolly, slouching forward against the bars. His hips jutted out behind him and he smiled up at his 'captor', some hair falling in front of those captivating eyes of his. Even he knew he was sexy, it was just a matter of playing it up; he didn't have to stay in that cell by himself all night. He could have all the handsome, pleasurable company he wanted, right? All he needed was a few skillful twists and an enticing lick of the lips.

With another playful wink, Julian grabbed the cigarette between his middle- and fore-finger, holding the end of it out through a hole in his cell door.

"I gave you all my matches."
 
"Ah, right..." he took out what looked like a real gun, then pulled the trigger, a tiny flame popping out. He smiled at the obvious advances. "I'm flattered, really." he said, "But..." he pointed a thumb at a surveillance camera. "I kinda like you, and I don't want to be moved again. I'll take you out to lunch later, tell your parents I'm interested in having you do odd jobs around here." Maybe then the parents would leave him alone? After all, doing good for the community finally got his father to acknowledge him as a man, and being on the force only helped. He found himself wondering hoiw sharp the boy's brain was. He certainly didn't look to be the type on the street, but maybe a... detective?

He smiled, lighting the boy's ciggarette, walking back to his desk. "So. How would you like to decorate the city for a part-time job?" he asked, taking off his cap and scratching his head absently. "Just thinking you should channel that ability, is all." he said, putting the cap back, on, smoothing his hair as he sat down.
The boy did have a talent for knowing how to work people over...
 
Julian took a long, comforting draw on his cigarette to expel the disappointment that had flooded him. No sex with a hot guy tonight--damn. It would've been such a good end to the evening, too. He released the smoke and tar in his windpipe with a slow sigh, watching the smoke travel up into the fluorescent glare above his head. What an ugly thing, fluorescent light was... So bright and flickering and brain-melting. It made him want to burn things down; they were mostly why he hated going to school, actually. After one last depressed sigh, he looked over into Freddy's eyes.

"Are you going to tell them I got arrested?" He asked, this time quietly. There had been a cantaloupe-sized bruise on his shoulder blade after the last time he'd been brought in from a hiking boot that had struck him. Unpleasant experience indeed. He shook his head, then turned and looked towards the white wall, taking another draw on his cigarette.

"Mom will see the good in community service. Dad won't. It's no big deal I guess, what's one more bruise?"
 
"He hits you again, let me know." Billy said darkly. "I don't abide that sort of behavior at all." he walked over to the cell and looked into the boy's eyes directly for the first time that night. "He does it again, it won't be you behind these bars, it'll be him." he growled softly. "There is no man lower than the one who hurts his own family who he is supposted to support and protect." he thought for a moment.

"Tell you what, tommorrow morning, I'll talk to them personally, then pick you upo in ten minutes. Don't tell them about the second part. He smiled meaningfully at the boy. "Karma will take its course, boy, and trust me when I say I enjoy that part of the job almost the most."
 
Julian blushed heavily when Freddy looked at him like that. He wasn't used to being looked at like he was the only person in the world, and that's what he felt like when Freddy focused on just him. The cigarette in his mouth suddenly seemed unimportant. He took it gently between two fingers, then released a lungful of smoke he'd been holding in off to his right so as not to hit Freddy in the face.

"I'm not a boy." He mumbled, blushing more as he looked away from Freddy. "I mean, I am, genetically, but I haven't been a kid or a boy since I was four. I'm just..." He sighed, leaning heavily against the iron bars. "I'm just some dude."

The final draw of the quick-burning cigarette was taken before he dropped the thing, watching it smolder for a moment before crushing it with the heal of his foot.

"It's really late." He informed the other male, "Am I allowed to get some shuteye or do these fluorescent lights have to stay on all night?" He looked pleadingly over at Freddy--sleep would be SO nice.
 
"Sure, sleep sounds good." he said, taking off his jacket. "I'm used to how cold it is here, but those sheets are thin as hell. Here." he emptied the pockets and handed it to him after opening the door a crack, then shut it and sat down at his desk. He tugged at the handle in the wall and a small bed fell out of the wall. With a heavy sigh, he laid back. Then he sighed heavily, taking off the shirt under the jacket, a simple black tee, and laying it beside him. His arms were fit, but not scary. He then reached over to put out the lights.

The lights died instantly, leaving the pale white moonlight to light the room in stark yet beautiful dimness. Freddy rolled towards the wall, a little too big for the bed, his hat over his eyes. Through the thin undershirt stretched across his back, many crisscrossing scars were visible, probably made by a switch or something similar.
 
Julian sheepishly took the coat and drew it around his shoulders. It was soft leather--old, musty, and smelled of moth balls. He buried his face inside it for a moment, closing his eyes, taking in the leftover warmth from Freddy's body. He would have purred if he could have, but instead he pulled on his hoodie, then the leather jacket, snuggling into both of them. Warm!

With a contented sigh, he climbed onto his little bench. It was obviously built so that it was JUST small enough for discomfort in sleeping. Julian cursed quietly as he fidgeted on it, then ended up rolling right off and onto the hard floor, swearing loudly this time.

"F-fuck!" He managed, as he landed on the cold floor. Groaning, he simply rolled over onto his side, using his bent arm as a pillow. The floor would be dirty, sure, but it was that or a stiff neck from sitting up on the bench the rest of the night. He sighed heavily and closed his beautiful blue-grey eyes, his slender form bathed in moonlight as he fell asleep.
 
Freddy grunted in his sleep at the cursing, but didn't budge. He was an incredibly heavy sleeper. As the night wore on, he too tossed and turned, almost falling out but not quite. Sooner or later, morning came, and he woke up with the light of the sun. With that, he smiled and walked over to the bars of the cell, looking in on his prisoner boy. He smiled, stretching and slipping his shirt back on as he went upstairs for a coffee.

Mornings were the worst, seriously.
He grumbled and groaned, filled out the boy's paperwork, then went back downstairs with his coffee as he sipped at it blearily. He hated mornings.
 
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