Chapter Two — It's Always Smart to Buy Clothes That Claim They Iron Themselves

Work had been bordering on boring. The most exciting thing they had been called to was a heart attack. And that had been short lived, as it had turned out to just be an easily scared girl with tingly nerve endings in her arms who had screamed.

The rest of the day had been filled with kids and headaches, maybe the odd sprained ankle, but the most tiring thing that had happened was when a depressed teenager had sat in the middle of a country lane, refusing to move.

But surely that's the police's job? you ask. Not if we are the nearest medical team and we have to transport her to a mental health ward…but she won't move!

I think Stuart took up smoking, much to Ashley's amusement, Rachid recollected, trying not to stumble for too long over Ashley's cute smile in his memory as he showered after work.

Stepping out of the shower, he noticed Stuart getting dressed rather hastily.

"What's the rush?" he asked, shuffled over in nothing but an orange towel barely covering his gentlemen's area. The NHS must think we're all pixies, Rachid often mused. But somehow it stayed up. Defying physics, but staying up.

"No rush," he stated rather unconvincingly as Rachid got way too close for most of humanity's comfort.

He narrowed his eyes at him.

"Your scared people are gonna see your flabby, pasty arse," Rachid grinned like a chasseur cat.

"Shut up!" Stuart turned, about to shove his work clothes into a black rucksack. Rachid walked over to his small red locker chuckling quite heartily to himself.

"Of course, some of us don't need to worry about such problems." The darker skinned man replied, turned round, spraying, in most peoples' opinion, way to much lynx's over his softly toned chest.

"I have been known to be called an exotic, god-like creature," he boasted, receiving a string bag in the stomach from a smirking Ashley.

"Shut up and put some clothes on."

He grunted from the impact. Opening his bag, he pulled out a pair of once-ironed jeans and a causal smart red shirt with very thin dark purple stripes.

"Just 'cause ya know ya couldn't resist me if I didn't, ash" Rachid joked, receiving half smiles and half choked laughs from Ashley. As well as, Stuart Rolling his eyes and tutting so much, one might mistake him for a queue of old ladies at a post office.

Once dressed, the clothes seemed to have ironed themselves out across his shapely body.

Stuart had prior left, cancelling their pretty much nightly pub crawl, as he did not believe in "following the herd." But Ashley had a reason: being gay is different enough for him, so he was allowed to follow the crowd.

"So it's just you and me tonight," Rachid sighed, putting an arm round the slightly shorter Scotsman.

"Er, it always is," Ashley half laughed, removing the arm from his shoulder and turning round to face Rachid, slinging the Reebok rucksack over a shoulder. "But, er…I've kinda got plans. Already." He smiled awkwardly, fiddling with the long string from his dark green and black bag. He didn't really like ditching someone who was becoming, sometimes a little too quickly, his best friend—especially on such short notice and as Stuart had left as well. Not that him and Rachid ever did anything together without Ashley.

"Oh…" was all he could say, giving him barely enough time for his smile to fade into a more serious expression, before they both turned to hear a man stumble into the dressing room.

"Ash? You in here? Some blonde said…" He trailed off as he saw the two men turn to see him. "…I could come in," he finished.

"And here. They. He. Is. Rachid, this Kobe, and Kobe, this is Rachid. We work together." He walked over to the tall man, taller then Rachid even, and the man, this Kobe, put an arm round Ashley's waist. Ashley leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as the friend muttered a "Hey babe."

Rachid eyed the man up and down. He was tall, and darkly tanned, but not totally naturally. Maybe European-Mediterranean. His hair was fairly long without being a Hercules look alike and a deep chocolate brown colour. Green eyes. That's odd for a Mediterranean, isn't it? Maybe mixed raced? He wore well fitted leather pants and lace-up boots with a loose white shirt, so thin it revealed his six-pack. One obvious thing was the rough looking scars across his mouth in a smiling pattern. But Rachid supposed most would be too distracted by the leather and abs. Besides, the scars looked old, faded, maybe even covered up with something.

"I'm the boyfriend." He shrugged playfully.

Rachid read the situation and laughed with the man. Immediately he put his hand out and the European shook it. He had a firm grip and strong shake, don't see that often in fags, Rachid thought. But the thing that held his attention the most was the large collection of tiny white scars on each knuckle. He didn't think too much of it at the time, but he didn't ignore it.

"Kobe Fischer," he said, and Rachid replied with his equal.

After that there was a slightly awkward silence. No one knew what to say. What do you say after that, apart from "What the fuck?" Since when were you going seedy with someone, Ash? You could at least have told me! After all, it's not like we only see each other at work! But apparently that's socially unacceptable in such circumstances, so Rachid resisted.

"Did you reserve the table?" Ashley almost whispered to his "boyfriend", who had been speaking at a normal level at his phone for a time. He definitely detected a foreign accent, and he didn't mean southern.

"Oh yeah, we should. Well it was nice seeing you." He nodded to Rachid and moved his arm up round Ashley's shoulder and they gazed at each other for what couldn't have been more than a split second before they turned and left.

But Rachid saw that look. It was the look Ashley had given him in his dreams, be them night or day, the look he had all but created. He suddenly really felt the need to punch something at that moment.

He took a deep breath and tried to swallow it…but he had never been good at controlling his temper.