The Boy [mxb]

33

My sleep was fitful, wrought with fanciful visions of thousands of evil clones, all working for one giant, super-villain mafiosa. The city was on fire. There was panic everywhere. Indistinct screaming. Planes falling from the sky. Terror in every eye. I was on the ground with all the other first responders, shouting over the chaos for TAC teams, SWAT, riot cops, FEMA, the national guard - ASAP - when I was told with grim despondency: there's nobody left to send in. And that's when I woke up.

As my sleep-addled brain clears and my senses slowly reawaken, my heart flutters at the realization that I'm not alone in the bed.

Ciel's skinny legs are entwined with mine, the entire length of the boy's body pressed against my side and his face buried in my shoulder. We're nuzzled up against each other in a tangle of limbs. He looks cherubic, bathed in the glow of the morning sunlight, sweet and soft and ethereally pretty with his halo of curls.

My boy can't wake up on his own; I usually help him. But, first, I fumble to snap a picture of him for my wallpaper. Then I wrap my arms around him gently and murmur his name until his eyes flicker open.

He groans and mewls in protest, but when he's awake, he rolls over and simply looks at me. Utterly catatonic, he just wants to stare at my mussed hair and sleepy face.

"You're beautiful." I turn on my side, propping myself up on my forearms with a besotted smile.

"Really?" Ciel flushes, averting his gaze. "I don't even look cute right now..."

Sitting up, he awkwardly pats down his perfectly gravity-defying hair.

It's starting to get long like a girl's again. We'll need to cut it soon.

My phone rings, cap's ringtone, so I pick up. He wants to know if I'm good to come in to work today.

I thought my days of being cannon fodder ended when I got promoted from beat cop, but they didn't. Once we detectives have seen and been through too much, we're considered damaged goods. We've served our purpose, but now we're a liability. So we quietly go away while fresh, naive recruits take our place.

And yet, when I wake up next to Ciel like this, I feel like I can take on the world. So I tell cap: hell yeah, I'm good. Half this city is just waiting to see me fail. But I'm not quitting, not until the criminals do.

I'm cleared to go back to work, and if the pain rears it's ugly head, then tough shit. Besides, Ken needs someone to reenact Bad Boys with in the interrogation room. He threatened to kill my ass if I left him hanging.

Ciel's hand softly strokes my pecs, gently flicking a nipple.

"Are you sure you wanna go back to work," he murmurs groggily.