Burn Baby Burn Chapter 10

Asami's eyes rolled, looking behind him quickly, footsteps shuffling, stopping and starting, swallowed by the wind whipping through the alley. Someone followed him, someone with soft soled shoes staggering on the cold gray concrete.
Asami stopped at the corner, dead ends blocking his exit and turning away, he escaped up the ladder pinned to the side of a crumbling building. The ladder creaked loudly, making him cringe, faint rust staining his fingers bright orange, peeling paint leaving blue marks on his gray SFFD t-shirt.

He waited, hunkering down on well-worn heels as the fire escape swayed. Thighs aching slightly he welcomed the reminder of his earlier activities with the young man on his mind, his lover, his Akihito, his distraction.

The heavily tattooed gang member below him kicked a dented can that clanked against the dumpster. A cat bolted suddenly, the man flinched, then relaxed at the realization it was only a cat, one of many seeking leftovers from the corner taco restaurant.

This tattooed shadow warrior refused to acknowledge the plane of existence above him or below, above where the angels watched and below where the devil resided, so say the myths. In defeat by the dead ends he shrugged, turned on his heels and left the alley way the same way he came, through the door marked No Entrade…..no entrance.

The warm Santa Ana winds enveloped Asami, clutching at his shirt, settling her warm hands to caress his chest, much like Akihito's tentative fingers had done earlier when Asami held him in his arms, listening to his breath as it calmed, his sweet scent infusing his nostrils. He Akihito's aroma still lingered somewhere on him, faint and getting fainter as his own sweat overpowered the erotic scent.

He inhaled quietly, catching the perfume of soup drifting as he waited a few moments before descending, his drop to the ground muffled by the distant traffic and his perfect knee cushioning landing.

Ignoring the No Entrade sign, because signs only suggested but never enforced the rules, he went in through the out door, following his shadow and becoming the shadow himself. Or so he thought.

"You're a long way from home." A man said in his ear in heavily accented English before Asami's eyes adjusted to the darkness inside.

"As are you." He replied carefully, feeling cold metal at his back, a Berretta by the feel of it, or something similar. "Guatemala?"

"You're ears hear right."

"Do you mind...the gun? I'm allergic to gunpowder."

"Then what is this?" His Guatemalan tail didn't laugh as he pulled Asami's not-so standard issued weapon concealed near his ankle.

"An occupational hazard?"

Again, his tail didn't laugh at his brevity, like most would have (at least in his mind), allowing Asami a momentary chance to escape. Asami tensed as the gun at his back remained, unwavering, held steady by a seasoned veteran in the unending gang war with no sense of humor.

"Why are you tailing me?" The gun pushed harder in response, Asami feeling it through his light shirt. The gun's metal should have chilled his back, but this one felt warm, too warm for his taste as if it had been recently fired.

"Why are you messing with Akihito Takaba?" Another voice, this one low and smoke-tinged, came from around the kitchen door and belonged to a very fat, very powerful man.

"I was checking his smoke detectors." He answered quickly, his eyes scanning for a possible escape and not finding one. "He didn't change the batteries."

The gun jolted, ramming against his spine, leaving perfect round circles of pain on his back. He'd have bruises later that would defy explanation, if they found his body, that is.

"Lie again, fireman….and I get to watch you burn." The man with the gun warned with a sinister and humorless chuckle.

He took a breath and held it, his body curving away from the pain. "He's essential to a case." He answered. "But you probably already know that."

The powerful fat man laughed. "I'll give you partial credit then. Let him go."

The gun went away, a safety engaged by the quiet click sound, and Asami let out his breath with a tight hiss. "I take it you are a friend of Takaba's?" He asked carefully, noting the four men behind the fat man, all armed, all tattooed and all sneering in his direction.

"I'm hungry." The fat man with a tightly clipped Hispanic accent said. "Let's go in my office and share a meal."

The office consisted of one red cushioned booth facing a wall of surveillance monitors all showing the same program – the interior and exterior of the restaurant which never opened, yet never went out of business. It also showed Asami he'd walked into a trap, watched since he entered the alleyway.

"I thought I smelled albondiagas." Asami said in a cheerful tone, ignoring the monitors and their blurry evidence of various nefarious crimes. "Family recipe?"

"My mother's. Like some?" The fat man winked like Santa, and except for the tattoos, would look like a fatter version of Santa, if that was possible.

"Yes, please." Asami responded, his eyes lightening up in some fake attempt at ass-kissing as he jostled into the booth with fat man on one side of him and a sweaty young man on the other, his tattoos covering his body like paint.

"I'm known as El Jefe." Although Asami's Spanish was rusty, he knew that word – it meant The Boss. "So…this case Takaba is involved in. It's about Yuri. Yes?"

He answered that question with a raise of his eyebrows. "I realizing that confidential means the opposite in this part of town."

"Everything that happens in this part of town….well…La Eme knows about it." The fat man gestured towards the arrival of the soup, quieting until the older female with the pretty smile left their meal with a slight nod of respect. "Including why a fireman shows up to do a policeman's job."

"Then you know why I'm here." He continued, watching El Jefe decorate his soup with crushed tortillas and a generous helping of scalding hot salsa. He did the same, knowing he'd regret it later.

"Because Capitan Welsh is a bigot?" El Jefe's stomach rolled with quiet laughter, his nostrils flared and his face reddened as he inhaled his spicy soup.

"Among other things. One death threat, and he's hiding his bigoted ass under armed guard at taxpayer's expense." Asami said, noting to buy Tums later as he spooned the spicy soup in his mouth, one small sip at a time. "That death threat has 13 written all over it."

"Did it now, imagine that? And you?" El Jefe smiled as Asami coughed and continued to clear his throat, nodding as water was offered and gratefully accepted. "Does the number 13 frighten you to?"

"I'm not afraid of numbers." The water did nothing to quench the fire on his tongue.

"That doesn't make you brave. What you are is, well, in my language….loco." El Jefe said. "We are all loco."

"Loco can get you killed. I'm concerned Takaba is over his head."

"I understand your…..concern, Fireman, but Yuri won't live long." El Jefe's pause at the word concern made Asami wonder if the man knew about their fledging relationship.

"I have people protecting Takaba. Yuri needs to be brought to justice."

"Your justice….or ours?" The fat man lit a fat cigar, rolling it between fat pudgy fingers.

Asami inhaled the spicy scent, his nostrils flaring, watching the smoke dangle over El Jefe like a deadly wreath. "I'd say it doesn't matter, but I'm supposed to be politically correct." He shifted in his seat, noting the closeness of the gang member next to him who smelled of Axe after-shave and had a staring problem. He seemed to like to stare at Asami's mouth.

"No one who matters is listening." He puffed again, blowing the smoke above him, towards a dangling garishly painted skull. "And those who matter are family."

"He needs to see justice by a jury of his peers." He said finally, watching the skull with diamond set eyes waver back and forth, its pasty grin setting Asami's teeth on edge.

The fat man laughed again, a gold tooth glinting, his breath smelling like candy. "His peers? His peers?" He flicked ashes into his empty bowl, coloring the remaining white soup a dull gray. "How can I assist a friend of a friend?"

"Pull your men off Takaba. I want Yuri to show himself." He thought about adding please to that order, but decided against it. "And I don't want your men hurt. He's a firebug…..allegedly." He lowered his voice and leaned in, capturing El Jefe's attention with his determined eyes. "I can catch him, with your help."

"You plan to use my Takaba as bait?" El Jefe played with Asami's gun, caressing the piece with a flick of his fat fingers before offering it to him without comment. It seemed lighter now, empty and useless.

"Why is Takaba….yours?" Asami's gut lurched like he'd eaten broken glass. Not from the soup, but the idea that this man might have touched Akihito.

"He showed an act of kindness I will never forget. And that is all, fireman, a good friend. So you can put away those jealous eyes." He chuckled, his neck fat jiggling along with the rest of him. He looked like Jabba the Hutt's human twin.

"I see." Asami finished his soup, adding to do the list of dishes he'd never try again. "La Eme really does know everything."

"I can't see a man's mind, especially yours, Captain Asami. But I'll do what you ask, for now." El Jefe nodded to the clingy man next to him, who moved and walked calmly away, his baggy pants dragging from the weight of a sawed-off shot-gun stuffed in his pants. "But, he gets hurt and you will see justice. So…are we clear?"

"Noted. By the way…you need to bring this fire trap up to code."

"Noted. Go out the back, it's the only exit. It's also the only entrance." He grinned and winked, a twinkle of humor in La Jefe's smoke black eyes.

Before Asami could leave, the woman with the pretty smile shoved heavy grease stained bags into his arms with a familiar wink. The bags smelled like soup and spicy beef. "Para Takaba….y tu?" She said, her mouth stumbling over Takaba's name as she smiled broadly, her teeth yellowed with age.

Asami smiled and nodded and flashed his own lop-sided smile as he held the bags now warming his chest, mumbling the first word he learned in Spanish. "Gracias."

-BBB-

Yoh considered himself a sensible man, a patient one, in fact, as seconds ticked by and the minutes grew to hours as Akihito peacefully slept with Yoh watching over him, as promised. He peeked out the blinds, losing track of the time as he watched the shadows grow dark as evening fell. Street lights flickered on, tired humans arrived home from work and started their evening activities – television, followed by more television and perhaps a drink or two or more.

He checked the front door again, aware of his growing anxiety that came from sitting and standing, waiting and watching, conscious of the slight muffled curse words coming from Akihito's bedroom.

Yoh almost laughed when one overly large eye owned by Akihito peeked out of the bedroom door. Then, the eye went away and the door shut with a sharp slam. It made Yoh's teeth rattle and the ice in his drink clink. "Akihito, what are you doing? I'm not going to bite."

"What are you doing home?" He asked quickly, his loud voice carrying even from the other side of the door.

"I'm home, what does it matter?" He answered just as quickly. Normally, he'd be either working or getting into as much trouble as a cop could get into and still keep stay employed.

The door opened again, and Akihito popped out, hair ruffled, shorts wrinkled, wearing an overly large SFFD t-shirt. "Where's my other shirt?"

"You only have two shirts?" Yoh said, a smirk building as Akihito's blush crawled over his pale face.

"My Eyewitness News t-shirt, my lucky shirt." He ran a finger through his sweaty hair, which didn't help the bed-head. "With the big 7 on the front?"

"On the floor. You do have something to wear, don't you, other than that shirt?" Yoh had to turn away, pretending to check the calendar as his smile turned sadistic.

"I need to do laundry." He picked up the torn shirt and frowned at the ripped seams. "What happ…." He looked around and the frown deepened. "What happened to my shirt? This is my lucky shirt!"

"You should have seen it…what happened…." Yoh grinned at his own reflection on the refrigerator door, enjoying Akihito's uncomfortable dance. "Um…...the Hulk ripped it…saying something about….Hulk smash or was it….Hulk rip!"

"What….Hulk?"

"The Hulk said he'd be back later." Yoh grabbed two energy drinks and offered one to Akihito, who still stood with his hand glued to his door knob. He took a few shaky steps, looking disoriented. "Don't worry."

"Worry? Who is worried?" Akihito limped towards Yoh, grabbed the energy drink and limped to the couch. He sat down, then stood up, his frown deepening in shock at the pain in his backside. "I should go to work."

Yoh's teeth grew dry from smiling so much. "I'm sure you should, but not today. Because I say no…that odd limp says no…and the Hulk….well…don't make him angry….you won't like him…oh you know the line." Yoh said, grinning like a son who had just found daddy's porn collection. Gay porn collection, in this case. "Don't make Hulk angry."

"So, uh….Hulk is code for…?"

"Explain what Capitan Asami was doing here, and I might let you live." Yoh said with false malice.

"Shut up!" Yelled the boy with the sore backside. He grew quiet, eyeing Yoh with a condescending look while sipping his drink loudly. Yoh didn't flinch, even though Akihito's glare now burnt a hole through his skull.

"Well?" He tapped his stocking feet against the ugly green linoleum.

"Well what?"

"I'm waiting…." His arms crossed, his face pinched with mock anger covering his growing amusement.

"He's….he's working on a case and I helped him with some footage. I got sick at work, he drove me home. He brought me soup and I went to sleep." Akihito's face grew redder, his feet shifted and he looked behind Yoh, at the clock on the wall.

"Why are you wearing his shirt, and why did he come out of your room with no shirt on? I didn't know what to think."

"What did he say?" Akihito said defensively.

"He didn't have much to say. He said to ask you." Yoh pulled from every standard interrogation technique he learned in the LAPD Academy, this one was called being vague or, in his case, lying.

"Umm…some kind of mix-up?" The foot shifting grew, Akihito now looked like he was doing the toddler pee-pee dance. "No shirt?"

"Did you throw up on him?" Yoh's grilling, although amusing to Yoh, seemed to make Akihito uncomfortable as his eyes started to water. He almost felt bad….almost.

"I dunno. Maybe." Akihito turned away, his hand coming up to wipe away a tear. "Uh…yes, that's it. I must have."

"Beep beep beep." Yoh beeped away, wanting to stop teasing his blushing roommate, but he couldn't make himself stop.

"Why are you beeping?"

"That's the lie detector going off. Your feet won't stop fidgeting." Yoh sat on the rickety kitchen chair, his feet still aching from his tight police issued shoes. "So, what is going on?"

Akihito paused, his hands clenched together as if in prayer. "He and I….well…I'm not sure what to think about that….but…..here it goes…..um…..I'm gay. So…uh…" Akihito backed up, ready to run into his bedroom as Yoh raised a hand to wipe his sweaty brow. Akihito twitched, a tear rolling down his red cheek. "So….you know…..I prefer men."

"I know what being gay means." Yoh's eyes softened. "Don't be scared of me, Akihito. I'm not a basher."

"Oh…okay." He looked around the room, admiring the décor as if seeing it for the first time, looking everywhere but Yoh's eyes. "Good to know."

"I wish you had said something sooner."

"Why?" Akihito looked confused and apprehensive, despite Yoh's previous reassuring declaration.

"Because it's not fun going to The Abbey alone." Yoh smiled and shrugged, relieved to share his secret with his roommate. Only his roommate, for now.

"What?"

"Yeah. But let's keep that confidential."

"Goes double for me." Akihito started chuckling, bracing himself against the wall. Then he started laughing loud enough that the neighbors upstairs pounded on the floor, rattling their cheap chandelier. His body shook with laughter until he ran out of air.

Yoh wasn't sure why Akihito found the situation so funny, but he chuckled anyway. "You've got a hot boyfriend. A firefighter, no less. It sounds like really kinky porn if you ask me." Yoh said, grinning until his face hurt.

Akihito grew redder, with anger this time. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Well, you need to tell him that. Possessive fucker, isn't he?"

"What? He lives in San Francisco! He can't be my boyfriend!" Akihito gingerly sat on the couch, a cushion propping up his butt. Yoh smirked as Akihito let out a quiet oomph. "I don't know what he's thinking!"

"He told me to keep my hands to myself. I think he's smitten with you."

"Smitten!"

"He's got Akihito disease. Just like everyone who has ever met you. You've got to stop being so nice."

"I'm not that nice!" Akihito yelled, his cheeks puffing out like an overstuffed hamster.

"Your Facebook friends list looks like the roster for the United Nations." Yoh replied calmly.

"Stop checking out my Facebook page!"

"Then stop friending criminals! You're just looking for an exclusive!" Yoh finally lost his patience and his voice rose gradually.

"Exclusive? I'm a camera man, not a reporter!"

The neighbors upstairs pounded again and then turned up their television louder. Telemundo…..by the sounds of the clipped high-pitched Spanish now rattling their apartment windows. Akihito lowered his voice, barely.

"Camera man, you're in danger."

"I know." He whispered with a sad grimace. "Don't I know."

"Then be a good boy, and stay home. You can take some time off."

Akihito glared, his soft hazel eyes dancing, listening to the footsteps pound up their stairs and stop in front of their door. Yoh tensed and rose from his chair, Akihito tensed, waiting for the knock on the door. When it came, they jumped.

Yoh moved quietly, revealing the gun he had stashed in the unused cookie jar underneath the fake cookie package. "Yes?" He said towards the door.

"It's only me." The deep voice belonged to Asami, making Akihito blush and bite his lip in apprehension or expectation.

"Yeah? Who is me?"

"Your friendly neighborhood fire fighter. Open the door, I've brought gifts."

"Is it candy and flowers for your boyfriend?" Yoh said, delighted to see the flicker of irritation in Akihito's eyes as Asami's physical presence overpowered their small entry way.

"Would he like that? Because I can go get some." Asami surrendered his bags to Yoh, and flopped down on the couch. It bounced in response and Akihito moved away slightly, trying to ignore Asami and failing. One could light a fire with Akihito's red cheeks.

"Hi baby." Asami said with a calculated smirk and a lustful sparkle in his eyes.

Akihito recoiled and said nothing, his foot tapping in annoyance.

"I like your t-shirt. Did you miss me that much?" He teased.

Yoh turned away, emptying the bag slowly, allowing the couple privacy as Asami continued to flirt, kiss or otherwise fondle the reserved and irritated Akihito.

"You ripped my lucky shirt." Said Akihito with fire in his voice. "Don't look at me like that. You ripped it. Take responsibility."

"Oh I will." Asami said seductively. "I'll buy you whatever you want. I'll take responsibility."

"I want my lucky shirt!"

"Should I leave?" Yoh asked, still not turning around.

"Yes." Asami said impatiently.

"No!" Akihito replied loudly.

"Yes, please." Asami said politely.

"No…please stay!" Akihito yelled not so politely.

"Yes….go introduce yourself to the Dragon. Fill him in. Take him some of that soup…he likes soup, he likes a lot of things." Asami ordered, taping the back of the couch with his fingers.

"Who is the Dragon?" Akihito said with curiosity. When no one answered him, he pouted.

"What kind of things does he….uh…like?" Yoh turned around quickly, eyes widening and cock stirring as Asami sensually brought Akihito's lips to his, kissing them gently. Akihito's eyes fluttered closed, pert mouth opening, captured in Asami's hold. "Where is he….never mind you look busy. I'll find him. I'm sure he's hanging around."

Someone moaned in answer, Akihito or Asami, he wasn't sure. "Dammit…when you break his heart, Asami…..I'm going to…"

Asami waved him off with one flick of a finger…..

….the middle one.