Category: Angst/Adventure/Romance
Pairing: Hector/Steph/Lester
Rating: R to NC17. Language, sex, violence and general adult themes.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making anything off of them.
Warning!! This story was not devised by Happy Fluffy Plot Bunnies. It was instead tortured and taunted with things we shall not mention here.. both painful and pleasurable. These Bunnies had fangs. Touchy subjects will be broached before we reach the last hurrah. Some days you may want a box of tissues, others a bottle of Woolite. There will be the presence of Slash (M/M) eventually, but proper warnings will be given with each chapter. If you do not read the warnings and ratings on each chapter, I will not be held responsible.
Author's Notes: Because I am the whitest of white girls, Hector's story, unless otherwise noted in parts, is being told in English. Just think of it this way, because we're viewing the story from Hector's POV, He and therefore WE can perfectly understand what he's saying, no matter the language barrier. Also, all sections in Italics are flashbacks.
The title is borrowed from a Linkin Park song
While it is in no way a song-fic, their music did indeed lend a lot of muse, and emotion to this story.
Thank yous must go out to Rena, for being the wonderful you that you are. I also have to thank all of the ladies that were in the PerfectlyPlum chatroom back in November who encouraged me to run with my idea to make Hector NOT gay, (This stigma of his has eaten at me for over a year) something I'm very proud he allowed me to do. Even if Smutcember got in my way and I had to wait forever to finish it.
I'd really love to hear what everyone thinks, questions, comments, concerns. I live for feedback.
Breaking the Habit
1
I laid in my bed, staring across the mere inches of sheet to the amazing woman who had virtually fallen into my arms tonight. And across her shoulder at Lester's quietly sleeping form.
Stephanie lay there, looking perfectly at peace in her sleep. The slightest smile gracing her lips as my hand continued to trace patterns across the smooth skin of her stomach. I couldn't seem to keep myself in check. The urge to run the pads of my fingers across her smoothness was too much, I wasn't bothering to try fighting it.
I could count on one hand the number of women I had slept with since I lost my virginity nearly a decade ago. Sex with a woman was a significant thing to me. Not something I entered into lightly. Which probably didn't help to curb the rumors that I was flamingly gay.
I knew some day it would happen though. I would get caught up in some woman and lose my better judgment. I never thought that woman would be Stephanie Plum.
Sex with guys was easy. Emotions never came into the equation, the guys I ended up with were all too macho and pedantic to allow for that to happen. They were always easy on the eyes, but that didn't make the long days any less lonely.
Lester, he was a different story all together. We had randomly been sharing each other's beds for a few years now.
Ever since we'd been caught with our pants around our ankles and our dick's out in Lester's apartment by Ranger that one time, we didn't see a sense in hiding our proclivities. Even He couldn't fight the temptation of spreading the news of what he'd walked in on to the rest of the core team. And it quickly made it's way through the rest of the Rangeman Vine.
It's not like there was any exclusivity between us, we'd often end up going home with other people, every now and then, we'd both go home with the same person. But we frequently turned to eachother when the need for release wasn't being met elsewhere.
I'd like to think that over the years, as we've gotten to know eachother better, our friendship has gone to new levels, but I wouldn't want to presume that Lester's thoughts ran along the same line as my own. I certainly considered him to be closer to me then any of our other fellow Rangemen, probably the only person to truly know me at this stage in my life. But there was still so much even he didn't know.
I closed my eyes and my hand stilled as I drifted off to thoughts of how I got to be here.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Four years ago, when Ranger found me, I was a snot nosed punk, walking a fine line along the edge of my own humanity.
I already had the blood of more then a few people on my hands, and not in the 'morally right - legally grey' way that most of Rangeman operates.
My first kill was made purely from the need for survival, but it was what eventually led me down a path that could have ended my life very easily at every turn.
The single Teardrop on my cheek was a constant reminder that those deaths couldn't even all be blamed on a reckless youth as a gang member. Only kills made in the service of The Almighty Nation earned you ink.
The rest of those deaths.. They might have been avoidable in some way. But being the person that I was, I wasn't capable of seeing those ways. Thanks to Ranger, and the training he gave me, I can now.
I'm not that person anymore.
OoOoOoOoOoO
When they found me, I was out celebrating my 21st birthday at your everyday shithole corner bar in my native Latin Kings territory in Newark.
To this day I thank the Fates that that night ended the way it did, and not the alternative.
Me and three of my Hermano's sat around a table in a dark back corner of the room. Directly next to the back exit, just incase. One second we were talking big shit about our plans for the next weekend. The next second I'm trying not to shit myself at the feel of a cold gun barrel pressed to my temple, and the chillingly deadly voice that accompanied it.
"If you know what's good for you, you will all put your hands slowly on the table. I have men positioned around the room to take out every one of you if you so much as twitch in a way I don't like."
In the warped glass of the mirrored wall across from me, I got the shady impression of a large man in all black. And what looked like a snub-nosed H&K P2000 pressed against my head. There's no way to survive a temple shot of any kind, let alone from a gun of that magnitude. I saw no option other then to quietly lay my hands on the table top and just hope my drunken friends would see the hopelessness of our situation.
As some of the top ranking members of the Pantera Tribe of The Almighty Nation of Latin Kings .. They weren't always willing to back down so easily.
Santiago, Rufio, and Lope slowly brought their own hands up onto the table. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but the gun to my head still wasn't moving.
"I'm going to take a step back. I want you to stand and place your hands on your head. No quick moves." The voice continued behind me in that same chilling monotone.
I wanted to argue, I wanted to find a way to turn this around. I knew both were futile and would very possibly shorten my life span. So instead I slowly got to my feet, keeping my hands out in front of me so no one was likely to get the wrong impression.
A black man the size of a refrigerator box stepped from the shadows of the back door. Again I chomped down on the urge to fight back as he took my hands from my head and handcuffed them one by one behind my back.
"Seems you missed an appointment in Trenton, Hector. Vincent Plum has asked us to escort you back into the legal system." The mountain of a man rumbled down at me.
Suddenly I was grateful I was only going to jail and not going to be locked in a room with this behemoth and the stone scary mother fucker who'd pressed his piece to my temple. I'd rather take my chances with the inmates then these two guys. At least in jail my reputation might save me.
What I didn't know was that a few days later, that same stone scary man would save my life. As well as throwing it into a 180 degree tailspin that would lead to cleaning myself up permanently.
To be continued