Insubordinate ( Gay ) ( BxB )

Chapter Four ✓

Coen's car smells like his cologne. 

The inside is neat, clean, and very new in appearance. I can't help but wonder how recently he's gotten it; it seems inhuman for him to have the ability to keep a vehicle as clean as it is. The ride down the road feels smooth, but he plays no music.

I have some semblance of what I'm in for, and I've convinced myself that I can handle it over the last few hours. If this guy can handle it, so can I. It's just a given. I'm obviously tougher than he is. I'll be better at this job than him, I decide, too. I'd make him regret hiring me under these circumstances- not because I'm bad, but because I am better. 

"Are you looking forward to seeing the dead or something?" 

Coen's voice brings me out of my little fantasy. I notice him glance towards me, and I realize there's a smile playing on my lips. I drop my expression immediately, turning my face away so he can't see.

"No." I say, resting my face in my palm. "I was thinking about something else."

"What, then?" He prods.

"Nothing you'd care about."

"You're probably right." Coen scoffs.

I've never been so inclined to dislike someone so fast in my life. We resume silence once again. I stare out the window at the familiar streets as they flash by- very familiar.

"... Were you thinking about a girlfriend?" He asks.

"No." I reply.

"A boyfriend, then?" 

"What?" I snap. "Hell no." 

"Wow, look at you." Coen smiles. "Makes me think you're lying."

"I'm not." I mutter into my palm, head turned all the way away from him so he can't see my expression. What did he take me for? 

"Right." He slurs. 

"I don't mess with that." I tell him. "No fucking way."

"I didn't say I did not believe you, Beckett." He laughs lightly. "Don't get so defensive."

"I'm not defensive." I tell him. "I'm just not... not gay."

"Whatever." Coen sighs. 

The car slows to a stop, Coen parks diagonally to the sidewalk. I realize that we've arrived on the street that leads directly to the bridge on which I had met Coen. Was there someone killed on this street? The bridge? I hope it isn't the bridge. That would be a hell of a way to taint a place.

"Here, put this on." Coen says, reaching up and taking a lanyard with an ID card attached from around the mirror. He slings it across, landing it in my lap. When he slides his ID over his head, I do the same.

"If you feel the urge to vomit, do it as far away from the scene as possible. Got it?" He says sternly. 

"I won't need to." I scoff, turning and exiting the car. 

"Follow me." Coen growls, motioning for me to follow. "Do what I tell you."

Yeah, I heard you the first few times you told me that.

The air is still sharp and cold as ever, but the sky is darker and grayer with clouds. It's a perfectly gloomy day. I stand on the sidewalk and dig my heels into the snow, head tilted skyward. I can't help but miss the rain.

"Beckett." He urges when I don't budge.

"Coming."