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You're under arrest! (Hat/Rawrg)

Julian usually woke up early to get to school early. That day, he lay motionless on the floor of that cell, wishing he had, at least, had a cot. His back was killing him. After his officer left, he rolled over, slowly straightening until his back made a sickening cracking noise. Then he sighed and stretched, dusting off his face and climbing up onto the bench. He could really use a cup of coffee, he noted to himself, while he pulled on his goggles.

Unconsciously, he patted down his hair, which was sticking up in some places. The silvery-white mane glittered in the sunlight even more than it had in the dark, blue tips looking almost like fish scales. He took off Freddy's jacket and set it on the bench beside him, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets, glaring at the floor. It was time to go home and explain where he'd been all night--oh joy, oh rapture. At least Freddy would be with him. His stomach growled painfully when the policeman walked back into the room and Julian managed a half-assed grin up at the other male.

"Didn't eat dinner yesterday." He admitted, sheepishly.
 
Freddy opened the cell.
"I'll make you something before we head out." he said, leading him into the kitchen. "A gesture of charity." he smiled as he walked upstairs and into the kitchen, beckoning the boy to follow. Once inside, he took down a pot and filled it with ater, humming quietly. He wasn't half bad, but he was only good at recipes if they had something to do with breakfast. it was the weirdest thing. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, muffins, waffles, sauseges, almost anything.

After the pot was full and on the element, he sat at the table, waiting for it to boil. He smiled, pulling out a chair for him and stretching. "Best part o' wakin up, you know." he said with a grin. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out several things with his name on them. Bacon, eggs, sauseges. He got a pan as well as the water began to boil, carefully dropping in four eggs.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." he said, his fingers touching the scadng water so the eggs wouldn't crack.
 
Julian watched with cautious curiosity as Freddy cooked breakfast for him. He sat at the table, taking his time to actually get seated, as his back still hurt. He winced as he finally landed, then went back to watching the older man, wondering if the things that had gone on the night before were real. Had he imagined the flirting? The promise for lunch? Was he going to just be abandoned at home like the last time to fend for himself? He hunched over the table, crossing his arms for use as a chin-pillow.

"Were you serious yesterday?" He asked, after a few minutes of droopy-lidded silence. He sat up at the same time, causing his spine to crack and his stomach to lurch, hands flying back to improve the pain. "I-I mean..." He grit his teeth and continued. "You said you were going to take me out to lunch, and that you wouldn't let my dad hit me with anything, and..." He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at Freddy imploringly.
 
"Sure as shooting." he said, setting the bacon on the hot pan and covering the eggs. "I don't say things without meaning it." he said with a grin as he rummaged around for a spatula. "Lies are man's worst enemy, you know." he smiled as he found one,m and flipped the bacon carefully. "My father always told me my ancestors were paladins and knights. Crusaders of rightousness and might."

He scowled.

"Then I read about the Crusades." he said angrily. "I'm sorry. I just..." he sighed. "I hate fakers, liers, and decievers... it's just... how I am. You know?" he shook his head as he reached for the plates and silverware. It was a stupid thing to get angry about, but still.
 
Julian shrugged. "I've been lied to a lot." He informed the other male, though it was as far into detail as he got. "It's a habit to not believe good things until they really happen... you know?" He sighed heavily, deflating visibly, and his neck let out a loud crack. He groaned and reached up to rub it, eyes shut tightly. "Damn... Y'all need to get bigger benches down there. I rolled off and slept on the floor all night..." His fingers grasped at the table top as he rubbed his neck, trying to relieve the pressure.

With a depressed groan, he looked up at Freddy. Suddenly, visions of a a hot, oily back massage flashed through his head. He felt an awkward problem stiffen slightly in his pants and blushed, trying to swallow his Adam's apple. The thoughts couldn't be forced away. All he kept seeing was Freddy's shirtless body and strong hands massaging every kink out of Julian's body... ...Every little kink...
 
The food was doled out, and he smiled. "Sorry about that." he said. "That's just how it is. Mine's not much bigger and I'm far wider than you..." he shrugged. "Oh, and... maybe. If you play your cards right. That bed'll give you a back like a board." his smile widened as he placed the food and silverware before him. "Like I said, here's the plan: I bring you home, leave something small behind, say my flashlight, and then in fifteen minutes, I'll come back to get it. If your poppa's up to his ole shite, I'll draw the line between discipline and abuse and haul him right in."

He paused. Wait, maybe...

"What about your mom? Does he hurt her too?" he asked, softly. "I want to say 'not trying to get in your business', but, you know..." he tapped the breast pochet where his sheild sat. Finally, he started to eat, giving the boy a chance to talk. He could only hope that he could catch that, since it was far more likely to be veiwed as out of line than simply disciplining your child.
 
"Just me..." Julian admitted softly, poking at his food with sudden distaste. "It's not really... beating, exactly. It's... It's hard to explain..." He managed, looking up at Freddy with frightened helplessness in his eyes. It was painfully obvious that he had never been open about it with anyone before.

"I-I... he..." Almost frantically, he searched his mind for exactly what he was that he wanted to say. Finally, he grabbed a hold of something. "He's just a mean drunk." He said, and stabbed an egg on his plate with a fork. "He's a really cool guy when he's sober... Used to take me to do stuff and have fun... even used to play sports. But he hasn't been sober for a couple of years, and he's... he's mean to me when he's drunk because I'm the son that's alive and I'm the one that's wimpy... and he can't stand it..."

With a loud groan, he reached up to rub his neck once more. "Damn bench..." How he longed for a place to sleep where he wouldn't end up face-down on the floor by morning. Almost depravedly, he looked up at the other man, grabbing the back of his neck for relief. "You got a cigarette on you?"
 
"Well..." he sighed, "Don't tell a soul." he said quietly.
The one who lived. Well, now there's a new one...

He handed it to him, then finished his meal and rose, walking around the table. His hands landed on his shoulders, gently kneading them. They were a lot bigger than they seemed. "Figures." he thought back to his visits to the town's only bar, but shook his head. Half the working guys went there, it's not like his dad woul;d be easily picked out...

He slowly began to move down the kid's back. Something was up here. Something in the back of his head grumbled about something being wrong. Something besides the abuse... But he couldn't put a finger on it. Not yet. He'd have to stay quiet and gather information subtly. He filed the feeling away and smiled down at the kid.

"Better?" he asked gently.
 
Julian smiled weakly as he took the cigarette, holding it gingerly between two fingers. It was a nice brand; one you had to order from somewhere else, one that the corner convenience store didn't sell. He admired the fake-goold ring around the filter, then grinned and lit up with the matches that he had retrieved. Smoke filled his lungs for a moment before he let out a long, slow sigh, expelling the tar. That was better. Much better.

To say the hands on his shoulders shocked him was an understatement. He blushed and went rigid for a moment, tensing up under the pressure of the larger man's hands. That was counter-productive, of course, but he was soon relaxing under Freddy's gentle hands. Each touch was like magic. If he could have, he would have purred for the other man, his fingers nearly forgetting about the cigarette. After a moment he took a long draw on it, savoring the delicious combination.

"Don't... Stop... Please..." Was the only response he could manage, and he suddenly wished his hoodie was off. To feel Freddy massaging his flesh? Skin-on-skin contact? Oh. My. God. The thought made his pants grow a little tighter, though that problem was hidden well by the table.
 
He didn't, for a while, thinking to himself. Thinking about a lot of things...From the thoughts of what might have happened to the boy's brother, to maybe enjoying more than a working relationship. He was certainly cute enough, after all...

After about twenty minutes, his hands fell to his sides and he picked a keyring off a hook on the wall. "Well, it's about time we head oout, wouldn't you say?" he asked. "Wouldn't want your mother to get herself worked into a knot." he put the dishes into the sink, and put on his cap, patting him on the shoulder.

"No smoking in the squad car, alright?"
 
Julian was long finished by his cigarette by the time the other man had finished the massage. He groaned with want for more, then moved his head and was surprised that nothing cracked or popped. He climbed out of his chair and actually smiled. It was comfortable to walk again! He practically tackled Freddy, though he really just hugged him tightly around the waist. He was thankful that, of all the cops he could've gotten, he had gotten Freddy.

The ride home was dreadfully short. Julian had hoped for a long time to calm his nerves, but it seemed like only thirty seconds passed between the station and his run-down old duplex. It seemed like it was situated in a nice enough neighborhood, but the house itself was fairly run-down looking. While the garden was exquisite, the paint was peeling and the roof was missing tiles. Julian sighed as they pulled up next to it, looking at his feet.

"Now you know why I don't like to go home..." He muttered, then climbed out of the car.
 
"Not that bad, considering." he said, getting out. He opened the boy's door and helped him out of the car, leading him up to the house. He sighed, ringing the doorbell. "I've seen worse, you know." he said, looking around. "Your mother tends the garden, right?" he asked, looking at it. "It's quite nice."

Man, as if he hadn't done this a million times before. 'Hey, here's your kid, no, it wasn't drugs, no, it wasn't violence, yes, but everyone uns anyway.' The only difference was that he liked this kid and the plan they had in mind.
"Hey. No matter what happens today, I'll come by tommorow afternoon to take you to lunch, alright?" he asked.
 
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