gwyn | but wait, there's... less

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sweet_ali made me for my WIP!! What a great pressie!!!

In the morning Crockett woke to the slatted sunlight hitting his eyes. He’d forgotten to draw the shutter all the way when they’d moved to the bed. The rocking of the boat and the peacefulness of Marty’s breathing made him reluctant to move; such tranquility was rare, something to savor. But Elvis was restlessly scrabbling around up top, and he had to piss anyway.

As he sat up he paused, and for a little while gazed down at Marty’s face. Had he ever been this unguarded, this relaxed? Gone was the perpetual headache frown, the scowl that could clear a room. His own dark ghosts, those familiars who haunted Marty’s every moment, had left for now. A strange sense of pride washed over him at the idea that he’d brought this about no matter how unexpected the manner.

Sonny’s back ached from the night; he’d let Marty show him things he’d never attempted to imagine. The abandon and tenderness that this normally rigid man had shown left Sonny breathless, spent, at peace. Replete with a kind of acceptance that came only from truly knowing someone else, seeing into them.

After feeding Elvis he came back down below, sliding a shirt and shorts on, then made some coffee. Just the way Marty liked it: heavy and dark. Waking him, he held out the small cup and wrapped his fingers around Marty’s as he took the cup. He leaned forward, then pressed his forehead against Marty’s, closing his eyes, just listening to his breath.

Castillo touched the side of Sonny’s face and sat up, drank the coffee quickly, then set it on the table. He was so relaxed and comfortable that Sonny would almost say he was happy. They’d been friends for so long now, yet Sonny had never seen him like this. It made him love Marty all the more, knowing he’d been alone for so long, waiting for someone to bring out these feelings he was so desperately afraid of. Waiting for Sonny.

“What happens next?” he asked, gazing at him from under his brows. He was afraid of the answer; he knew how much Marty needed the rule book. Both of then had just violated every code of conduct, and as impossible as it would be to go back, this distance and aloofness was a fundamental part of Marty’s persona. He wasn’t sure that the lieutenant could live well without those trappings, and would pull back out of this friendship just to be on the safe side.

“You’re still on desk.”

Sonny chuckled. “Yeah. Got it.”

Castillo reached for his clothes. He loved Marty’s body, so strong and powerful that with one hand he could bring men twice his size to their knees, yet so deceptively trim and slender. On the outside all buttoned up like a missionary, but under the clothes, a surprising sexiness. Everything about him was a contradiction, and there were so many things still to discover.

“Don’t make too much of this. I’m not your shot at redemption, Sonny. You don’t need me for that; you can do it on your own.”

“I know. But the on my own part... I don’t want to be alone. And you don’t, either, not really.” Had anyone ever told Marty they needed him? Sonny knew what it was like to live within that desperate silence all too well. Couldn’t that be the thing they shared -- finally admitting to their needs and letting go, just a little bit?

“You’re not alone. You never have been.” Of course he wasn’t. It had been Marty who let him go all the way on any case, in any situation. Marty who had always backed him up, no matter the cost. He had Rico, he had his family, but it was always Marty who kept him standing when Sonny’s legs were ready to collapse under the weight. Marty who believed unequivocally.

“We could do this.”

Castillo didn’t argue, just started dressing.

“I’m not asking you to save my sanity. Or save my soul. Just... to let me in. For a while.” It had been a long time since he’d wanted something this desperately.

Marty finished dressing, pushing up the knot in his tie. Sonny knew him well enough that the lack of an answer was actually encouraging, in its peculiar way. If he was really ready to pull out the “I’m your boss” card and shut him out, he’d have left before Sonny had awakened.

Jacket in hand, Castillo stopped at the door but didn’t look back. “You don’t need me to save anything. You’re fine on your own. You’ve always been better than you wanted to believe.”

For the past few weeks, his life had been haunted by the cat burglar, by the creeping shadow of madness left in the wake of those crimes. Now Sonny thought he could see light as the shadows flickered away.

Castillo lay on his office couch in the dark, the hum of the AC in the squad room the only sound to be heard. Everyone had gone home, but he had stayed to puzzle out a case, using the darkness to help him focus on details. It was no surprise that in the earliest hours of morning he heard Crockett’s footsteps. So he sat up, leaning back, eyes closed. Waiting, the way he always did for Crockett.

Now that this barrier had come down, Sonny would never let it go. The same relentlessness that had driven him after the cat, after any of his cases, would drive him to pursue this. They would barter and gamble, never meeting more than halfway, but ultimately Sonny would have what he wanted. Strength only went so far; need was far more persuasive.

It was easy for Castillo to believe it mustn’t matter, because otherwise he would be consumed by the whys, would slide into doubt over the reasons this man, so handsome and so appealing, would want him. No prize for anyone to win, let alone someone like Sonny, even without the added complication of their functions. But the worst of the doubts were those for his own supreme rules, the ones he’d broken for passion and desire.

“And Tubbs?” Castillo asked as Sonny sat down, like they’d been in the conversation for hours.

“He sees more than you’d know. He’s cool, and if he figures it out, I’m not worried. Not about Rico.”

All day he’d tried to shift his mind to anything but Crockett, though he’d known it would be useless to try. The drug was under his skin, racing through the blood. Sonny had been there always, since they’d met, really. What was the use of fighting it? Castillo had to take his own advice, try to let go of his fears, even if it destroyed him.

He’d spent so much time trying to help Sonny and keep him from destroying himself. Perhaps now it was Sonny’s turn to help him.

His hand, resting on the couch, was briefly covered by Sonny’s, a whisper of skin, hint of danger. Then he grasped Castillo’s forearm. ”I’m not afraid,” Sonny said quietly.

“That’s what worries me,” Castillo answered. But he felt the beginnings of a smile, a sensation that grew more familiar all the time. Maybe Sonny was right. They could do this, though he had no illusions it would be for long.

They could fill up those empty spaces in each other’s hearts, let the ghosts of the past rest. And show each other, at least for the time being, the light that lived outside the shadows of their world.

End