(A/N- hey guys/gals! Er, you know, my two followers... sorry it took so long to post a new chapter. In the next few weeks I hope to be posting a lot more. I'm working on this and two Sherlock fanfics, but I want to get all three packed full of chapters before November (NANOWRIMO) comes along. Hope you enjoy the update, and a new one will be coming soon. I know, I'm dragging this relationship build up out, but that makes the payoff even better, right?! Enjoy!)
His uniform was precisely pressed. It fit as it should, tailored perfectly for him. Brutus took pride in it and made a point of wearing all of the pieces, even on the hot days when the others had already shed outer jackets off. It was damned hot today, too. Middle of the summer season had Brutus sweating. But he stayed collected in that pressed uniform. He'd promised himself he would be all business when he got back today, and the uniform remaining completely on was part of that.
He strolled into the Mile today and found Paul looking rather please with himself. "Morning boss," he chimed in almost jokingly repeating what the new inmate, Coffey, called Paul.
"Oh hey there Brutus. How was your day off?"
"Uneventful, thank the Lord." Brutus straightened his hat and sat down in a chair next to Paul's desk. "Where's everyone?"
Paul shook his head. "Percy hasn't shown his face yet since yesterday morning when he was put on library duty. Dean called in said he'd be a bit late 'cause of a little one being sick."
Brutus paused a minute, then realized today that was all of whom was missing. Harry had nightshift so had probably left when Paul showed up. "How's the missus?"
"Oh, fine. Much better now that I'm better." He smiled and Brutus understood the meaning for the pleased look he was wearing today.
"And is that her cornbread?" Brutus looked down at the table, taking in a deep breath. "I tell ya Paul, Jan is the best cook."
Laughing, Paul nodded his agreement. "You should find yourself a woman, Brutus. You're not too old yet, so don't give me that excuse again."
Brutus was shaking his head and pushed up from the desk. "You're treading on dangerous ground, and you well know it." He strolled down the Green Mile, hands behind his back and whistling. Paul and he both knew Brutus wasn't upset, and this walk was just a way to avoid a conversation he didn't want to have. On the stroll back down, Brutus glances into the cell holding William Wharton and pauses. The man is standing by the bars, cheeks puffed up, and just staring straight ahead. He almost looks like he's smiling, but Brutus can't be sure. Stepping closer, he leans in to take a look at him, wondering if he'd been drugged after the incident and this was some reaction to the drugged state of mind.
It happened rather quickly- a chocolate, wet, mess of a concoction exploded from Billy's mouth all over Brutus' face and uniform. Brutus stood stock still for a whole minute while Billy pranced about excitedly in his cell. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Brutus cleaned up as much as he could from his face so that he could see and talk, then anger started to course through the shock and surprise.
Once Brutus and Paul had suited Billy in the straight jacket and tossed him in the padded room, Dean came walking in quickly. "Sorry I'm late, Captain, I was…just… with the kids…" He stuttered to halt in his explanation as he stared at Brutus' mess of a face and clothes. "Um, what happened?" He blinked in confusion at the two older men.
Brutus felt his jaw tick in aggravation. "Wild Bill happened." He started away from them, wanting to clean up and fix his uniform. They all kept spares in the small room off the inmate's hallway. His lips were pursed and his brows were furrowed. The whole look softened to another surprise when he felt something at his side. Dean was walking with him and looked up to the six foot four height that towered over Dean's own five foot ten frame.
"Just thought I could help," he explained to Brutus' unasked question.
With a nod the older male allowed that for now. Brutus went into the restroom and he turned on the hot water. He let it run a second to get warm then cupped his hands, splashing his face with it trying to get as much of the mess off right away as he could manage.
"Here, let me take your jacket Brutal." Dean's hands found Brutus' shoulders and he tugged the jacket down.
Brutus really wasn't given much of an option so he shrugged out of it and turned his head to look down at Dean. The younger man was standing on his toes to get the jacket off of Brutus. That made him grin. That made things dangerous in Brutus' head. "Thanks." He went back to the water, hoping the steaming stuff would clear his head as well as his face.
"Shirt and tie too. You won't be able to get that all off of you if you have that stuff on."
With a sigh he hoped the other man couldn't hear, Brutus stood erect again and started to unbutton his shirt. He could see Dean watching him in the mirror. With each flick of his fingers on the buttons, Dean's eyes followed. Brutus swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his groin at the small action. He slowly undid his tie, dragging it around and watching Dean's face in the mirror. Dean followed that action as well, mouth slightly agape, and Brutus had to wonder what the other was thinking. There was an obvious curiosity in Dean, backing up that light in his eyes, and Brutus knew this territory could get too serious far too quickly.
Because of this, Brutus took the rest of his things off in a hurried fashion and didn't dare look into the mirror again. He handed the dirtied clothes off to Dean, now down to just a pair of slacks and suspenders. Submerging himself back in the water really did help. He couldn't see, couldn't really hear, and wasn't feeling those roving eyes all over him. Damn that beautiful face, those perfect lips, and that stubborn gaze.
Dean Stanton was going to be the death of Brutus Howell, he was sure of it.
That afternoon, Brutus sat in the side room off from the Green Mile, flipping through old paper work and trying to get it back into order. Someone from the courtrooms had come down and made a mess of everything, looking for only God knows what. He'd had the paperwork to allow him to do such, Brutus made damn sure of that, but the man had left everything out of order. Grumbling to himself, the graying man didn't hear another come into the room until a chair was being pulled out. He looked up suddenly, with wide eyes and an open mouth ready to speak up.
"Oh, Dean. Anything happening on the Mile, boy?" Brutus eased back in his seat once more, setting some case papers to one side and execution papers to another.
Dean shook his head, Brutus could see that even from his position bent over the table. "Just came in to see if you needed a hand was all."J
"Sure," his voice was gruff, almost off putting.
The younger man obviously didn't pick up on that, but instead dived into separating by names and dates. "Feeling better now that you're all cleaned up Brutal?"
"Mm."
Brutus could feel Dean stopping and staring at him. He looked up and his eyes went back to Dean's neck. It still had deep red markings, blood markings, across it from the chains. They looked painful. He looked back down again, frowning and trying not to let his temper overcome him again. He had his nickname for a reason.
Dean cleared his throat and walked around the desk, hiking his hip against it on the other side next to Brutus. "Are you upset with me about the whole Billy thing, Brutal?"
"What?" Brutus looked up, papers accidentally falling from his fingers. "Why would you think that?"
"Well…" Dean folded his arms over his chest and looked down, then back up into Brutus' blue eyes. "You've been acting sorta odd 'round me lately. Just thought maybe it was because of me letting Billy get the jump on me."
"Dean, you didn't let that happen. Percy did for all my concern about it. I'm not upset, I'm just," he shook his head fighting back saying what he was really feeling about it all. He chewed his lip, chose his words and looked back up. Dean's eyes were wide, curious, and that boy was always so naïve about things. "That was the closest I've come to losing a friend on the Mile, and I wasn't expecting it. Most of the time the inmates are rather placid considering our temperaments."
He seemed to take that as a very plausible answer, because Dean pushed off the desk and grabbed the fallen papers. Brutus reached out to take them and Dean's thumb flickered across the back of his hand, sending electric jolts through Brutus' whole body. Damn again. The boy retook his seat and the two got back to work, joking lightly with one another. The conversation was starting to come back to normal by the mid-afternoon.