Haven, Maine, Saturday morning
Nov. 30th, 2019 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
betterthanaplanDuke's head hurt. He was hungry and tired and his ribs weren't too happy with him, either, but the worst thing was his head, a pounding throb somewhere between stress headache and concussion. Between the chair to the back and the bar to the forehead and the night spent in a jail cell, he felt a bit like his brain leaking out his ears would be the best possible scenario.
And Nathan was smirking at him from the other side of the bars.
No one else looking at Nathan just now would see anything more than a stoic sort of resignation. The man had a deadpan like no other. But Duke had spent enough time staring at that face (and imagining that face and dreaming about that face) to spot the faint curl at the edge of his lips, the angry sparkle in his eye. Nathan was enjoying this. He knew better than anyone how much being behind bars freaked Duke out, and he was standing there and just taking it in while Duke pressed his back against the wall and tried to find a spot on the cinderblock cool enough to ease the pounding throb at the base of his skull.
They sized each other up for what felt like an hour before Duke finally cracked.
"While you're here, you mind getting me an aspirin?"
"Not authorized to give prisoners drugs."
Duke rolled his eyes, and immediately regretted it when the pain ramped up enough that his stomach got involved. "A fucking icepack then."
"Don't have any."
"This is cruel and unusual punishment." Duke gave up on the wall and dropped his head into his hands instead, gingerly massaging his temples. "Just — set the damn bail so I can get out of here already."
"No bail."
A flash of panic roared through Duke, sharp enough to make him gag. He stared up at Nathan in horror.
Nathan lifted one shoulder a few degrees, cool as a cucumber. "Were just holding you till you sobered up."
Nathan had read him his rights. Accused him of resisting arrest. Cuffed him and booked him and fucking fingerprinted him, all for a glorified drunk tank. Duke hadn't even had enough to make him tipsy. Duke was injured — not badly or anything, but Nathan sure as fuck didn't know if that headache was a concussion — and Nathan had thrown him in a damn cage, and now had the gall to stand there and taunt him from the other side of the bars.
Fuck. Him.
Duke adopted a cruel smirk of his own. "You really are numb inside and out, aren't you, Nate."
The smirk vanished. The thunderstorm that replaced it would be plain for anyone to see. He rattled the keys to the cell in his hand, then shoved them into his pocket. "Better hold you another hour or so. Wouldn't want you to be a danger out on the roads."
Duke got up, careful not to let himself sway when his headache kicked up a notch. That'd only add fuel to Nathan's "drunk and disorderly" claim. "What roads? I didn't drive here, remember?"
"Reminds me." The smirk was back on Nathan's face, full force. "Had your car towed. Lot's for Rusty Bucket patrons only, no overnight parking."
"Are you —" Duke swallowed several curses. "That's Bill's car!"
Nathan shrugged and turned to walk away. "Should've known better'n to trust you with it, then."
"You're an asshole, Nate!" Duke pounded against the bars, then hissed and rubbed his head again. "You're a goddamn asshole."
In the hallway, out of sight of the cell, Nathan grabbed the sleeve of a passing uniformed officer. "Stan." He pulled out the cell keys and offered them to him. "Let Duke stew another five minutes or so, then release him. See if he needs a ride anywhere." He glanced back towards the cell, where he could hear Duke continue to rant quietly to himself. "And have an ice pack ready for him, would you?" Stan nodded and Nathan flashed him a small smile of thanks before heading back to his office.
Six weeks. Duke had left for ten years last time, but this time only stayed gone for six weeks. He'd fucked Nathan's entire life; seeing him back here already was like rubbing salt into the wound.
Except that would hurt. And nothing hurt. Not anymore.
Maybe, if Nathan was lucky, this time Duke would finally leave for good.
[NFB/NFI, OOC fine. Mmm, Duke and Nathan's tasty, tasty issues.]
And Nathan was smirking at him from the other side of the bars.
No one else looking at Nathan just now would see anything more than a stoic sort of resignation. The man had a deadpan like no other. But Duke had spent enough time staring at that face (and imagining that face and dreaming about that face) to spot the faint curl at the edge of his lips, the angry sparkle in his eye. Nathan was enjoying this. He knew better than anyone how much being behind bars freaked Duke out, and he was standing there and just taking it in while Duke pressed his back against the wall and tried to find a spot on the cinderblock cool enough to ease the pounding throb at the base of his skull.
They sized each other up for what felt like an hour before Duke finally cracked.
"While you're here, you mind getting me an aspirin?"
"Not authorized to give prisoners drugs."
Duke rolled his eyes, and immediately regretted it when the pain ramped up enough that his stomach got involved. "A fucking icepack then."
"Don't have any."
"This is cruel and unusual punishment." Duke gave up on the wall and dropped his head into his hands instead, gingerly massaging his temples. "Just — set the damn bail so I can get out of here already."
"No bail."
A flash of panic roared through Duke, sharp enough to make him gag. He stared up at Nathan in horror.
Nathan lifted one shoulder a few degrees, cool as a cucumber. "Were just holding you till you sobered up."
Nathan had read him his rights. Accused him of resisting arrest. Cuffed him and booked him and fucking fingerprinted him, all for a glorified drunk tank. Duke hadn't even had enough to make him tipsy. Duke was injured — not badly or anything, but Nathan sure as fuck didn't know if that headache was a concussion — and Nathan had thrown him in a damn cage, and now had the gall to stand there and taunt him from the other side of the bars.
Fuck. Him.
Duke adopted a cruel smirk of his own. "You really are numb inside and out, aren't you, Nate."
The smirk vanished. The thunderstorm that replaced it would be plain for anyone to see. He rattled the keys to the cell in his hand, then shoved them into his pocket. "Better hold you another hour or so. Wouldn't want you to be a danger out on the roads."
Duke got up, careful not to let himself sway when his headache kicked up a notch. That'd only add fuel to Nathan's "drunk and disorderly" claim. "What roads? I didn't drive here, remember?"
"Reminds me." The smirk was back on Nathan's face, full force. "Had your car towed. Lot's for Rusty Bucket patrons only, no overnight parking."
"Are you —" Duke swallowed several curses. "That's Bill's car!"
Nathan shrugged and turned to walk away. "Should've known better'n to trust you with it, then."
"You're an asshole, Nate!" Duke pounded against the bars, then hissed and rubbed his head again. "You're a goddamn asshole."
In the hallway, out of sight of the cell, Nathan grabbed the sleeve of a passing uniformed officer. "Stan." He pulled out the cell keys and offered them to him. "Let Duke stew another five minutes or so, then release him. See if he needs a ride anywhere." He glanced back towards the cell, where he could hear Duke continue to rant quietly to himself. "And have an ice pack ready for him, would you?" Stan nodded and Nathan flashed him a small smile of thanks before heading back to his office.
Six weeks. Duke had left for ten years last time, but this time only stayed gone for six weeks. He'd fucked Nathan's entire life; seeing him back here already was like rubbing salt into the wound.
Except that would hurt. And nothing hurt. Not anymore.
Maybe, if Nathan was lucky, this time Duke would finally leave for good.
[NFB/NFI, OOC fine. Mmm, Duke and Nathan's tasty, tasty issues.]