Only If For a Night(MxM)

Checkmate

Detective Barron's mustache was oddly reassuring, given the circumstances, and Jet considered growing one for a split second.

The janitor's name was Paul Richardson; he had worked at Helman's for seven years as a custodian and never had so much as a parking ticket.

Jet suggested they look for the deed of a 1995 red chevy car registered to his name to see if the description would match the car that t-boned Jet that afternoon in the parking garage.

It baffled Jet that someone capable of creating that much pain and stress could intentionally and carefully abide by traffic laws.

It knotted his insides to watch Zuko's face as an officer slipped the jade prayer beads into an evidence bag.

Jet wanted to crush Zuko to his chest and hold on till the sun went down, but he also wanted his fists to create a Jackson Pollock painting out of Paul Richardson's face.

If he were to mention that out loud to Zuko, he would say that Lee Krastner's work was superior to Pollock's and would rant again about husbands overshadowing their equally, if not MORE talented, wives.

So he kept that to himself.

There was some deep satisfaction in watching the slippery bastard get cuffed and read his rights after the arresting officer prattled off a long list of his charges.

Breaking and entering.

Destruction of private property.

Theft.

Animal abuse.

Stalking.

The nondescript man blubbered about Jet assaulting him, but the accusation hardly left his mouth before Detective Barron brushed him off.

"It was self-defense. God knows he could've done a lot worse to you,"

Zuko's burning eyes watched the squad car pull out of the parking garage.

"We got him." The detective reassured, voice too gruff to do so adequately.

Zuko nodded.

"How long do you think he'll be put away?"

"Fifteen plus years, more if we can get him for attempted vehicular manslaughter."

It took none of the tension out of Zuko's shoulders.

Jet took over after that, answering questions, signing papers, thanking the detective even though he and Zuko did most of the heavy lifting.

There wasn't much for the police to do now that the stalker had been hauled away, and they filtered out of the parking garage too. Jet watched them go.

The last to leave was Detective Barron, and he cast a pitiful look to Zuko, who was viciously gnawing on his thumbnail.

"You take care of him, alright?" He looked at Jet from under his insanely bushy eyebrows that matched his mustache.

"I will." He nodded.

"Call if you have questions or need anything."

"Will do, thank you,"

Jet knew better than to touch Zuko when he was like this, a barely in control ball of flames, ready for something to latch onto and burn.

So he quietly picked his way across the parking garage, reliever when he saw that Zuko was following him, even though it was at a distance.

The elevator doors opened to their correct floor, and it wasn't hard to find the white Tesla amongst the lexuses.

Jet sent up a silent prayer that he had the key fob in his pocket, and he unlocked the doors.

Zuko slid into the passenger's seat without a word.

Jet grew up with three sisters that told everyone what they were feeling all the time, he had been raised with people narrating their feelings all the time, and he was at a stalemate with the complete silence coming from Zuko.

"Where to?" He asked quietly, glancing over at the man beside him. He was savagely beautiful in the harsh lighting of the parking garage, his shit as messy as his hair, tie undone, and exposing the alabaster stretch of his corded throat.

He was devastating and raw, and Jet almost looked away.

Almost.

"Home." He sighed.