For a moment, Kane wondered if Miki even heard him. The singer stared out of the open dock door, watching the boat lights move on the water. At his feet, Dude snored loudly, twisted partially around the chair’s metal legs. Miki shifted in his seat and rested his hands on his knees, seemingly enraptured by the flickers of life going on outside of the studio’s rolling door. Somewhere out in the darkness, a horn blew, a low and mournful sound carrying over the water.
“Just Damien, really,” he finally said. “I… wasn’t sure I was gay. Not after… you know. I used to wonder if I was just fucked up and didn’t know what I wanted because of Carl and Shing….”
Kane didn’t say anything when Miki’s voice trailed off, but he reached over and touched Miki’s thigh. “Dude, if you want to talk about anything, you can. Anything, okay?”
“Dog can’t talk. You know that, right?” Miki gave Kane a sly, mischievous glance. “I don’t think he’ll cough up anything to you. He doesn’t normally like cops. You… he might make an exception.”
“Asshole.” Kane chuckled. “I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I know.” He ran his fingers over Kane’s, tracing the man’s knuckles. “This thing… you and me….”
“What the hell is it?” Kane finished.
“Yeah, kind of.” Miki squeezed Kane’s hand once, then let go. “A week ago, you were screaming at my head. Now, we’re sitting here having dinner while you’re making salad bowls. It’s kind of weird. Not bad… but weird.”
“Salad bowls?” Kane clutched at his chest and gasped. “Ah, ‘the tongue like a sharp knife, kills without drawing blood.’”
“You sound like Yoda.”
“You don’t know Garbo or Buddha? God, we’re going to have to get you some schooling.” Kane threw his head back and laughed.
“Hey, public school,” Miki said, making a face. “Well, when I went.”
Hooking his arm over the back of Miki’s chair, Kane leaned over, brushing his fingers on the man’s shoulder. “What did Damien say when you told him?”
“He told me I was stupid if I thought he didn’t know, and that I was a fucking idiot who should get as much cock and ass while I could.” Miki tilted into the crook of Kane’s arm. “Damien could be a dick sometimes.”
“Yeah?” Kane made a face. “But you guys were close. He couldn’t have been a dick all the time.”
“Actually, no. He always was a dick,” Miki replied. “But he made me feel safe, you know? Like I could depend on him to take care of any crap that came along. D was good like that. He was a cocky, arrogant shit but never to me. Never to the other guys either. We were… tight.”
Kane was about to respond when he heard Miki whisper, nearly too soft to hear.
“I miss them.”
“Yeah, Miki,” Kane bent closer and pressed his lips to the man’s temple. “I know, man. I know.”
“You had a shitty day too, huh?”
Kane was going to say that Miki had no idea, but it hit him that it’d been Miki’s face in those photos, those scraps of time captured for a couple of sick men’s pleasure. Truth was, his shitty day was nothing compared to all of those shitty days the other man had lived through.
“Yeah, I did,” he admitted. “But it got to be a damned sight better once you got here.”
MIKI opened the refrigerator door and stared at its echoing whiteness. Except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable condiments, his icebox was dead empty.
Over the past week and a half, he and Kane had fallen into a routine. The cop would get off shift and head over to his workshop for a few hours to detox San Francisco out of his system, then Miki would amble over with Dude and takeout. Last night, they ate Chinese, picking at each other’s food while arguing about science fiction movies. Miki’s deep love for Bladerunner took a pounding from Kane’s opinion of the movie, and he scoffed at the cop’s fondness for Empire Strikes Back.
“Well, shit, I forgot to order groceries,” Miki growled and slammed the fridge door shut. “Fucking Kane. All of this shit with Shing and Carl is making me nuts, and you’re not helping.”
The cop was taking up too much of his thoughts, especially in the middle of the night when Miki’s suddenly aware dick twitched and throbbed at the thought of Kane’s cocky grin and deep blue eyes. He tried palming himself for the first time since he woke up in the hospital, but his skin was too sensitive. The tingling nerves short-circuited, and the soft velvet head ached when he brushed it lightly with his fingers.
In the shower that morning, the washcloth became a rough caress, and Miki could nearly feel Kane’s callused hand on his cock.
He shot off without even so much as a few strokes, splattering the shower wall with enough come to clog the drain.
And his dick still ached when he thought about Kane.