leanonstuff | PSL Post for lieutenantantichrist

PSL Post for lieutenantantichrist

[The killer was dead.

Norman had watched him fall after nearly swapping fates, a gruesome end for a truly deranged man. The following days found him swamped with attention, from media to the local cops and his fellow FBI agents, his head was swimming every time he had a moment alone. It was really a blessing when he was granted a few days off both to recover from his injuries and as a 'congratulations' for quickly solving a case that had become serious national news.

For the first time in awhile, as Norman lay on his DC apartment bed surrounded by a rare quiet, he felt pretty damn good about himself.

That was, until he took his next hit of Tripto.

He tried to get rid of the stuff, he really did. Flushed it down the toilet, hid it around the apartment, threw it out the window (not one of his better ideas), but somehow he always ended up with another vial in hand shortly after. Norman knew that the drug wasn't the sole problem too, maybe not even the most serious, but he couldn't part with ARI. He needed it for his job- how else would he have found Shaun in time?

Bleeding eyes haunted his dreams, more so since he knew such a thing could happen in reality again if he wasn't careful. As it turned out, all that time alone with his thoughts wasn't as nice as he'd hoped, and as such it was actually a relief when he returned to work. Norman knew that working for the FBI wasn't all glamorous; in fact, sitting behind a desk doing paperwork was more common for his job as a profiler than it was for most. He was well aware that he'd have to return to Philadelphia in order to officially close the case, as much as he loathed the thought of having to interact with Blake again. Maybe they wouldn't have to see each other, if he was lucky.

A few days later he found himself back in the precinct, only to be greeted by cheers, hugs and hearty pats on the back. Unexpected as this much praise was, Norman couldn't help but smile and make a couple silly quips to those who congratulated him. The first night there a big group of them went out to a local bar, apparently it had already been rented out for them that day, and brought the agent along to buy him drinks and continue lavishing him with praise. It seemed that they all wanted to be his friend now, something that admittedly felt pretty good for awhile but quickly became tiring. When the officers who had been chatting with him became distracted, Norman took his drink and retreated to a darker corner of the bar for a little break from the spotlight.]

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[With a shake of his head, Norman turned his gaze away from Blake and toward the bar. Nearly everyone looked better than the lieutenant did, which also made sense. He almost wanted to prod at his nerves by asking how he kept his job, but... a brawl wasn't really in the cards for him at the moment. There were insults and then there were insults.]

I don't really think it's fair to say I'm "in your face" right now.

[No, he was a good few feet away. Really, he should have just walked away at that point, but something kept him in place. Maybe it was the drinks, or the desire to gloat really was stronger than his attempts to hide it.]

...But I did tell you so.

[The words came out clumsily, as if escaping his mouth without his permission. Well, shit.]

[Of course the asshole had to split hairs.

Blake grunted in response, then a second later froze, body taut. He went from looking like a bear huddled in its cave to looking like a bear that had just been poked with a stick in a sore spot.

His voice crackled with loathing.]

Fuck you.

[His hand tightened around the empty glass until his knuckles were white. He got a sweet vision of smashing it over the bastard's skull.]

Fine. You're done. Now go back to getting your dick sucked by those idiots.

[Getting that out didn't really feel as good as he thought it might. Blake just seemed so... defeated... even if it was in his own violent way. Norman knew plenty about different self-defense mechanisms after studying psychology for quite some time. Lashing out? Yeah, common enough.]

Hey, look. I swear I'm not trying to pick a fight or anything.

[Not this time. He'd already won as they both realized; there was nothing left to prove in what little remained of their professional relationship.]

But I'm gonna be around the precinct for awhile longer, so it'd probably be best if we weren't at each other's throats all the time.

[An attempt to extend the hand of peace was more than Norman had actually planned in regard to Blake. Still, he'd feel a lot better if the guy wasn't glaring at him half the time, practically seething with rage.]

[Blake grunted. Fuck, punching him would feel nice for a second, but then he'd have everybody down his throat for attacking the big fuckin' hero. Nothing could be simple anymore. All he'd wanted was to drink in the dark for a while.

And the bastard was going to be around for a while. Just his luck.

It needled him that Jayden didn't even have the decency to rise to the fight. Like Blake wasn't worth it. He must have been above that now.

Blake picked up his glass and remembered the damn thing was already empty.]

All right. You want to do some high-and-mighty 'bigger man' shit? Prove it.

[He jabbed his glass at him.]

Get me another drink.

Edited 2016-01-02 21:26 (UTC)

[The demand in Blake's tone made Norman want to take the glass, fill it with water and then dump it on his head. Would a simple 'please' have been too much? Okay. Alright. He could play this game.]

Sure thing.

[He turned and headed back over to the bar. From the looks of it the lieutenant really didn't need too much more alcohol in his system- who knew how long he'd already been here drinking? So Norman did the responsible thing and ordered him a Sangria. A little alcohol, but nothing that'd really affect his level of intoxication.

For himself? Same thing, actually. Alone he'd be more likely to take something stronger, but in public he'd rather not do anything embarrassing.

After exchanging a few more words with the officers at the bar, he took the drinks and headed back to the corner table. The one he placed in front of Blake had two little blue umbrellas in it. Sharing was caring and all that.]

You're welcome.

[What do you know. The bastard actually did it.

Blake grunted acknowledgement. He took a drink, and despite himself, despite the black mood he was grabbing onto tight as a security blanket, it was kind of funny.]

Should've known you'd go for the girly drink.

[If Norman thought that would slow him down, he was sorely mistaken.

As Blake wiped his lips with his forearm, he found his mood improved to 'suspicious and sullen', a significant step up from the previous 'actively murderous.' He eyes Norman in the low light and the flicker of the game on TV.]

You must be having the time of your life back in DC. National fuckin' hero. You got groupies yet?

Can't deny it tastes good.

[The change in mood didn't go unnoticed, not when he was observing Blake so closely. Norman's own posture relaxed every so slightly in response, though there still remained most of the usual stiffness to his posture present when he was among groups of people.]

Groupies? [He shook his head with a crooked smile, choosing to ignore the rest of Blake's statements. Time of his life? Not quite. Being the center of attention when he knew he could be hit with withdrawal symptoms at any moment was anxiety producing enough without his ever present aversion to being forced into social situations.

Being praised was a nice change of pace, but after awhile he just wanted things to go back to normal. Ideally, people would respect him but also leave him in peace to do his work and hide his demons.]

Nah. I had some time off and I used most of it to catch up on sleep. Or try to anyway. [Beyond the physical issues, there were plenty of horrific memories to keep him awake at night. The people who had died because of him, whether or not they deserved it, coupled with too many near-death situations to count did not make for a calm mind.] I'm just grateful that Shaun made it out of there okay.

[Another grunt was as close as Blake would get to agreeing with him. It wasn't terrible, even if it was piss weak.

He didn't get any of the bragging he expected. Probably Norman was doing the humble version, where you pretend to be tired and down-to-earth right until you can slip in some mention of camera crews following you around and people trying to shake your hand.]

Sure you did.

[The mention of Shaun Mars made his face darken and close up. The boy Norman saved. The one on all the magazine covers ducking shyly behind his dad, the guy with the relieved smile on his face to go with the fading bruises.]

Yeah.

[He turned the glass around and around, eyes on the table.]

Kid's safe. Dad's exonerated. Everything's great. Happily ever fuckin' after.

[Despite everything Blake had done wrong through the investigation, Norman did at least believe he truly cared about finding Shaun. He wasn't lazy about searching, and even when he was violent there seemed to be more to it than just getting his kicks out of beating people up.

It was too bad, he mused, that an apparent passion for bringing killers to justice had to be expressed in such a manner when it could be better applied to doing things the right way. He could only hope that the inevitable scrutiny Blake received for his bad practices after Ethan's experiences and the notes Norman himself wrote about the case were enough to make him change tactics before he lost his career forever.]

I couldn't think of a better ending myself.

[His own bright demeanor stood in stark contrast to Blake's; he was having a good time, no withdrawal symptoms since earlier in the afternoon and a pleasant buzz from the drinks he'd had up till that point.]

But life goes on, right? By next month we'll all have new piles of cases on our desks. Can't wait to see where I'll get shipped off to next. [The last bit was tinged with sarcasm. Though he lived alone and had no obligations in DC other than work, Norman didn't much enjoy the process of time and again butting heads with the local police forces.]

[Things had changed in the precinct, all right. No more discreetly turned off cameras, no more unspoken understandings, no more confidence that the blue wall of silence would be there to let him do what needed doing. You could hardly trust anybody anymore.

Blake could think of plenty of better outcomes. Like that the killer wasn't...

He took a long drink. That was a hole he'd been down plenty of times.

Funny enough, it was Norman who redirected his attention. Asshole couldn't even let him wallow in peace.]

Yeah, the rest of us have work to do. [Filling out drunk driver paperwork, acting like everything was as sane and normal as it ever was.] I thought you'd get a while of sitting around being a hero and going on Oprah first.

[Blake was really focused on the hero thing, wasn't he? Well, that made sense. During the case he'd displayed plenty of behaviors of someone who either loved or needed the respect of others around them. And judging by his late hours and time spent alone drinking in a bar? Probably didn't have much of a home life to speak of either.

Might be pointless to spend time trying to psychoanalyze Blake, though. Something told him the guy wouldn't appreciate the effort.]

I almost exclusively work homicide and kidnappings. Can't afford to take too much time off just because I did my job and solved one.

[But it was true that, even with the FBI's superior resources, many of the worst crimes went unsolved. Serial killers roamed America's streets all the time, and people went missing constantly. Worst was when the crimes were committed at random, like Shelby's case, when investigating family members and friends yielded no results.]

This is kinda like a vacation, anyway. Paperwork for a solved case. Free drinks. Maybe I'll even get a date. [A tapering chuckle at that. Yeah, right.]

[Blake didn't need psychoanalysis. He was an ordinary, mentally healthy guy who reacted to any threat to his status with extreme hostility. Normal.

He shot a glare, taking that comment as a jab at him. Snotty asshole. 'I did my job, Carter, unlike SOME people.'

But hell. Back to the grindstone, fighting the piles of ugliness that never went down. That was almost something they had in common.]

Yeah. You get one big headline case down today, three new less flashy ones show up tomorrow. People don't got the decency to stop killing each other for five damn minutes so you can catch a nap.

[He flicked ones of the umbrellas in his drink with his nail, and for once, when his eyes came up, he forgot himself and talked to Jayden like a brother in arms.]

Buddy, if you can't leverage stopping a serial killer into some attention from women, you don't deserve to get laid.

[Norman snickered at that morbid comment, then took a sip of his drink to hide the fact that he was genuinely laughing at something Blake had said. Cop humor. Well, there was always something to say about being blunt, even if he personally struggled with being aggressive or even assertive among his peers.]

Yeah, tell me about it.

[The next comment nearly had him choking on his drink. So maybe being blunt wasn't always so great... how often would a simple joke about a date immediately turn into a discussion about sex?]

Who says I don't get attention from women?

[But now that the topic has come up, his attention turned toward the other cops walking around the bar. Probably a bit too notably, his eyes seemed to be tracking a few of the more attractive, gruffer looking men as they passed by. Yeah, women. Sure.]

Edited 2016-01-09 18:26 (UTC)

[Getting him to laugh felt like a weird victory. Them hating each other was a contest, and Blake was going to win it, even when it didn't mean anything anymore.

A grin slipped through for a second when Norman choked. Blake could take Mr. Magic Detective by surprise. Blake wasn't real delicate at the best of times, and the chance to make this prissy bastard squirm was too good to pass up. It was a lot better to think about than that case, the fresh wound that had settled in to gnaw at Blake's guts. There would be plenty of time for that later.

Blake had figured Jayden would go straight for the woman at the far end of the bar in a slinky dress, the fancy you're-not-good-enough-for-me type, but when he looked, that wasn't where Jayden's eyes were. Not even close.

A hint of a frown appeared on Blake's face. It must have been his imagination. He decided to give him a push.]

Who're you looking at? Did you come over here to try to get up the balls to go for it?

[The word 'balls' snapped him out of it, and then it took another second for him to process the question Blake had asked him. He shook his head, moving his attention from the men he found attractive to an empty part of the bar.]

Nah, I'm shit at the whole small talk part. Or having any idea who might be interested.

[Actually, that wasn't entirely true. There were always places to go where he could be fairly confident he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself, but actually getting up the nerve to go? Really, really unlikely.]

Not that it's any of your business. [If anyone was likely to give him hell for his personal life, it would be Blake, he was sure of it.]

[Blake drained his drink. A little umbrella fell out with a rustle and landed on the sticky floor.]

Jesus, Norman. You've got a goddamn red carpet in front of you, and you're gonna waste it?

[He made a point of ignoring the fact it wasn't any of his business. If Jayden didn't like that, he could leave. Nobody was forcing him to stay chit-chatting with a broken down old cop who'd blown everything.]

If I had half your luck, I'd already be on my way home with-

[The handsome, sophisticated-looking guy talking to the bartender. But Norman didn't need to know that.

Blake covered his lapse by jabbing his finger at him.]

Listen, you're buying a drink for somebody, and your choice is either one of them or me.

[He huffed, frustrated by the jabs, especially since he knew Blake was right. If he wanted a date, or even just a one night stand, he could get one. Being uncertain about who to approach wasn't the main issue. He didn't want to acknowledge the main issue.

That also meant he was a bit stuck when Blake offered him two choices. Sure, he could decline both, but he might end up fucked over by doing so.

His eyes flickered down at Blake, then over to the bar. He sighed that time, placing his current glass down on the table across from the lieutenant.]

I'll get you a drink, then.

[He scurried off before anything else could be said and got the bartender's attention. Norman ordered something with more of a kick this time, whiskey, one for himself as well. He brought the glasses back to the table and sat down, a clearer commitment to his use of time over here than before.]

[Not the answer Blake was expecting, but hell. Free drinks. God knew he could use it.]

You can't even give me the fun of watching you get shot down.

[Not that he would. Blake wasn't kidding about how everybody was fawning over this bastard. All he'd have to do is nod, and that- well. That needled Blake deep.

He swirled his drink around, regarding Jayden. The real thing wasn't living up to the cocky, swaggering jackass he'd told off a hundred times in his head. The aftermath of the case had cut him off from all his old comrades in arms. Now they barely looked at him. He didn't have room for the word loneliness. What he felt was spoiling for a fight.]

Look. If what you're waiting for is for me to grovel and kiss your ass like the rest of them, you're gonna be waiting a long time.

[If that line was hoping to provoke a fight, it failed miserably. Norman smiled while looking down at the amber liquid in his glass. That defense mechanism again, out in full force. He just couldn't help but analyze a little.]

No one's done that yet, thought I made it clear.

[He could take the mature route here and say something intelligent, meaningful. Instead he decided to be an asshole, because Blake always seemed to bring out the worst in him.]

But if you wanna do that in the privacy of my hotel room, I'd be all for it. [It was a joke, a jab, and yet... not entirely untrue. As much as he'd dislike to admit it, Blake fit his type pretty well. A bit too well.]

[That was exactly what he was hoping for. Dick couldn't even take the bait. He was supposed to get mad, not smile in the obnoxious way that reminded you a cute face like that was wasted on a fucking asshole.

Blake was halfway through a sip when Jayden surprised him by showing some teeth. His swallow went wrong, and the whiskey burned right down to his fingertips.

There was only one reason he'd go there: Norman knew. It wasn't exactly a big secret, but Blake had thought his buddies would have the common damn decency not to share anything personal about him with this asshole.

He leaned forward over the table.]

Who told you?

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PSL Post for lieutenantantichrist

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