Title: International Man of Mystery: Part 1 of 3
Author: hwshipper
Characters: Ziggy/Finn, Chris/Edward, Linus
Beta: still indebted to srsly_yes
A/N: Parallels Edward's Experiment
Summary: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and Finn, the love of his life. Part 1: How they met.
Excerpt: "Ziggy is our International Man of Mystery," Linus declared, and Ziggy smiled indulgently.
International Man of Mystery Part 1 of 3
Ziggy tucked his poker winnings away in an inside pocket, said goodnight to his fellow players, and glanced around the bar. No sign of Linus, but Chris was hunched in a corner with a glass of whiskey and a book. He didn't particularly look like he wanted to be disturbed, but Ziggy strolled up anyway.
"Hey, Chris. Linus around?"
"Downstairs." Chris gestured with the book. "He saw a pretty new piece of ass, guy called Nico, and made a beeline. Not having much luck, last I saw."
"I'll go see how he's doing." Ziggy was amused. "Where's Edward?"
It was an innocent question but Chris dropped his eyes and folded his arms as he muttered, "He's gone to Florida for a while, designing a conservatory for his parents."
"Oh." Ziggy was surprised; he'd seen Edward here at the club only a week ago, and hadn't heard that planned. "Will he be away long?"
"Naw," Chris said, with such false bravado that Ziggy backed off immediately and headed down the stairs. A touchy subject, clearly.
In the large downstairs bar, Linus was sitting a couple of feet from a group of men, apparently attempting to engage one of them (young, dark-haired, slightly exotic good looks) in conversation. Nico, Ziggy assumed.
"Hey," Ziggy said to Linus, taking the neighboring seat.
"Ziggy, how wonderful to see you," Linus hailed him, and waved to the bartender. "A beer for my good friend here, and another one for me too."
"What's up with Edward?" Ziggy muttered in Linus's ear.
"Chris screwed around and screwed up," Linus muttered back. "Edward went off on a break. I talked to Julio on the phone the other day, our darling Edward is quite the talk of the town in South Beach."
"Ah." Ziggy nodded.
"I'm almost tempted to fly down myself and see, just for fun, but Chris really needs to get his act together," Linus added as the drinks arrived.
"Linus, why don't you introduce me to your friend?" a new voice chimed in, high-pitched and eager. Ziggy turned his head; it was the young man who was the object of Linus's attempted affections. He had switched seats to join them.
"Nico, this is Ziggy, also known as Detective Bowie, one of my dearest friends." Linus intoned. "Ziggy, this is Nico, who's staying with friends here in New Jersey on vacation for a while."
"Glad to meet you, Ziggy, I was admiring your eyes," Nico dived straight in. "I've never seen such beautiful eyes before!"
Ziggy blinked, pleased. Some people found his odd eyes, one dark brown and one hazel, positively weird. It was good to get the opposite reaction once in a while. "Thanks."
"And you're a cop?" Nico asked, wide-eyed as he flicked back his hair. "That's why you're so buff, I guess you have to keep fit. I bet you've got a six-pack under that shirt. D'you have handcuffs?"
"I do." Ziggy was amused, but careful to keep his voice and body language neutral.
"Ooh, then arrest me, Officer." Nico held out his wrists. "And I'm up for it if you want to search me. Anal cavity probe, whatever."
"Wasting your time, hon," Linus put in. "My friend here is immune to such come-ons."
Nico stuck his lower lip out. "You're just jealous."
"Maybe, but I'm not kidding. Ziggy is our International Man of Mystery," Linus declared, and Ziggy smiled indulgently. He found the cop-kink come-on was an occupational hazard at the club and in bars. He wasn't immune, but he rarely succumbed.
"Sorry," Ziggy said kindly to Nico. "I'm not your man. Not tonight."
Nico's head drooped forlornly.
Linus cut in brightly, "I'm sure I have cuffs somewhere at home, if you want-"
"Nico's after the real deal, not the pink furry type." Ziggy couldn't help but tease.
Linus pretended to glower. "Don't cock-block me if you're not interested!"
That made everyone laugh. Nico beamed and turned his attention to Linus, and Ziggy watched Linus be led astray by his dick for the umpteenth time with detached amusement.
Ziggy had learned his lesson way back in the day as a twenty-one year old rookie cop, when he'd had to arrest a high-as-a-kite teen from whom he'd enjoyed a blow job two nights before. The teen had recognized him immediately, blabbed it all over the jail cell, and word had spread through the station and beyond. Never again.
No sexual dalliances with anyone locally; that was his rule. The danger of them overlapping with his professional life was too great. It was hard enough being an out gay cop as it was, with attitudes in the squad room ranging from cautiously antagonistic to downright hostile; giving his less sympathetic colleagues ammo like that was just stupid.
He reflected wryly on this rule a few days later, when he met Finn.
It was at a sucky breakfast meeting at the police station. The station lieutenant had summoned everyone to Meet Your Friendly Neighborhood Feds.Cops finishing the night shift were prevailed on to stay around a few minutes, cops coming on the day shift hauled themselves in early, bribed with strong coffee and sweet pastries. Everyone lunged for the donuts, the latecomers having to settle for croissants, and the unlucky last person in was left with the bran muffin.
They all sat around a table, bleary eyed from lack of sleep or too-recent sleep, while two wide-awake and sharp-eyed federal agents were introduced.
"This is Special Agent Hilary Benitez and Special Agent Fintan Massey," the lieutenant said.
"Good morning," said Benitez.
"Hey," said Massey.
Ziggy observed that the majority of his (straight, male) fellow officers fastened their eyes on Benitez's (considerable) chest through the ensuing discussion.
"So myself and Agent Massey have just been assigned to the New Jersey office, we're based in Newark but we're travelling around to visit all the local police departments, as we really want good working relationships with local law enforcement," Benitez began. She did most of the talking; she clearly wore the trousers.
Ziggy ate a jelly donut and listened with half a cynical ear while surreptitiously checking out her companion. Tall, tanned, and brown-eyed, smiling and apparently amiable, Fintan Massey was easy on the eye. He had dark curly hair with a carefully trimmed circle beard of light stubble (Ziggy had always had a slight weakness for facial hair), and was very neatly turned out in a perfectly ironed shirt and tie.
The cops all introduced themselves and there was some chitchat about possible overlaps and synergy. But Ziggy knew that everyone around the table knew this was a complete waste of time. The feds would do whatever they wanted, because they always did. Anyway, Newark was fucking miles away from their bit of ocean territory, and relevant to almost nothing they did.
Benitez and Massey soon departed, leaving the cops eating up the remaining pastries.
"Whaddya make of the Fed with...?" was the first question posed by one of Ziggy's coarser colleagues, miming large breasts with a croissant in each hand.
Benitez and Massey would subsequently be christened in squad room parlance as The Fed With (tits) and The Fed Without(likewise).
"She can have a good working relationship with me anytime," a second cop opined.
"Think her partner's boning her?" queried the first.
"If not, he wants to," someone else chipped in.
"Who wouldn't?" leered another. Ziggy was used to this kind of talk and kept diplomatically silent.
"His shirt was ironed, he's probably married," one of the (straight) female cops put in.
"No wedding ring, though," said another.
Ziggy hadn't thought to look for a wedding ring but found himself vaguely interested in the observation. He licked his fingers thoughtfully and went to do some work.
On his way home that evening, Ziggy decided to swing by Chris's roadside bar for a beer. He parked in the lot and headed inside by way of the back of the building, as he wanted to go to the bathroom first which was around the back.
He entered the bar through the back door a few minutes later, and stopped dead. A few feet in front of him, a man sat at the bar with his back toward Ziggy. The guy was wearing a more casual shirt and jacket than hat morning, but still immaculately tailored. Even from the back of his head, Ziggy recognized him; it was the Fed Without. Fintan Massey.
Massey's choice of seat was that of a law enforcer; sit where you could see everyone in the whole room. But not being a local, he clearly didn't know there was a back entrance behind him. It was half-hidden behind a pillar, newbies didn't tend to spot it until they were directed toward the bathroom.
Amused, Ziggy stepped up behind him and spoke softly in his ear. "Evening, Agent Massey."
Fintan Massey jumped two feet in the air and wheeled around to face Ziggy with startled eyes. "Uh-uh-" Recognition dawned. "You're one of the local cops." Beat. "Odd eyes-Detective Bowie?"
The bartender was looking at Ziggy from down the other end of the bar, silently asking, trouble? Ziggy shook his head slightly; no trouble. He was impressed by Agent Massey's recall, Ziggy had been only one of quite a number of cops around the table. On the other hand, the odd eyes did tend to stick in people's memories.
"Call me Ziggy." Even a federal agent could call him Ziggy. Certainly a handsome one who chose to drink in gay bars.
"Call me Finn." Fintan Massey was blushing a becoming shade of pink behind his mustache. Ziggy appreciated a close-up view; a carefully manicured mustache, it thinned out at the sides down to a shadow of a beard.
The bartender drifted up. "Your usual, Ziggy?"
"Thanks, Brandon." Ziggy watched Finn take in that Ziggy was sufficiently regular to have a usual, and to know the bartender.
"I'll have another of these, please." Finn gestured at his bottle of Bud and flipped bills across the counter.
As he produced the drinks Brandon raised his eyebrows at Ziggy, who shook his head ever so slightly to indicate no, he wasn't putting Finn's drinks on his tab. Brandon picked up the money and lingered for a few seconds, but presumably discerning that neither of the men were going to strike up a conversation while he was standing there, drifted off down the bar.
Alone, Finn spoke first. "Are you... working right now, Ziggy?"
Ziggy would not have ordered a drink if on duty, and knew Finn would have known that too. He deduced that Finn wanted to find out if he was gay, but was afraid of offending him with the direct question in case he wasn't. "No, I'm off duty at the moment. Are you?"
He thought it entirely possible that Finn, drinking or not drinking, was staking out the bar for some ghastly federal investigation. If Chris's bar was a hive for money-laundering or terrorist plots, then Ziggy wanted to know. This was his turf, after all.
"No, no," Finn muttered. "I was just...passing, driving along the highway, saw the bar, thought I'd stop for a drink."
That was probably untrue. If there was no federal business, it was much more likely Finn had been looking up gay bars in the area he was visiting. And anyway, nobody could fail to see this was a gay bar within two seconds of stepping inside, so even if he hadn't known beforehand it had not put him off staying for a drink.
Ergo, the curly-haired mustached Fed went for men. Ziggy found himself obscurely pleased. He rarely met fellow gay law enforcement officers.
"You come here often?" Finn asked, smiling as he uttered the cliched phrase.
Ziggy smiled back. "Sometimes. I know the owner, he owns a few bars and restaurants around here. And a club where I go to play poker. You play?"
"Not very well. I'm not a great one for going out to bars, either." Finn looked down at the counter.
"So what do you do in your spare time, Finn?" Ziggy went for friendly with a touch of flirtatiousness.
"I like sports. Walking, running, canoeing, skiing..."
"Golf?" Golf was Ziggy's great passion. He planned vacations around golf courses. His regular Monday date with Linus to play was the highlight of his week.
"Yeah, golf is fun." Finn became visibly more animated. They managed a golfing conversation for a while, talking about comparative handicaps and the pros and cons of different courses. It transpired that Finn had been based in Massachusetts before his recent transfer to New Jersey, where Ziggy had played a couple of times on vacation. Ziggy expounded to Finn about the virtues and vices of various Jersey courses.
It was nice. Eventually Finn finished his second beer and looked at his watch. "Um, I'm outta here."
"It's not that late," Ziggy pointed out. "Want another?"
"Naw, thanks. Look, I'm staying in the motel next door," Finn said, twisting a cardboard coaster into shreds. "The unit on the far end."
This was a come-on. Ziggy knew the motel layout, nodded, but kept his expression neutral.
"Number twenty, I think. It's got a bright red SUV parked outside, not mine," Finn added, gabbling a bit now, covering embarrassment. "It got dumped and the motel managers haven't had it towed yet." He slid off the bar stool. "Night."
"Night," Ziggy echoed, and watched Finn's ass as he made his way out of the bar.
Should he follow? Ziggy took his time finishing his own beer, then ordered a whiskey, not hurrying his decision.
Ziggy had never had a particularly high sex drive, but when he wanted to hook up with someone (and sometimes the urge did take him), he did it away from his own turf. Neverin the jurisdiction of his own police department. He took short trips out of state and long vacations in far-flung places. No danger of running into extended family members (and Ziggy came from a large family), no (nosy) work colleagues, none of his (extensive) golfing or poker circles.
Bedding a Fed? Obviously not a good idea. But... this was a fed buried so deep in the closet that he couldn't even bear to admit he'd come here to score. Fintan Massey was not going to spread this story anywhere anytime soon.
It had been a while since Ziggy had gotten some.
When Ziggy slid off the stool and headed for the door, he caught a knowing look from Brandon and mentally sighed. Finn might have thought he'd been oh-so-subtle leaving on his own, but they hadn't gotten past the observant bartender. This gossip would get to Chris within twenty-four hours (Brandon had a terrible crush on his boss; this was perhaps the worst kept secret in the local gayborhood, everyone knew except Chris himself) and therefore with Linus within forty-eight.
He left by the back entrance via the bathroom, thinking it prudent to visit the condom vending machine. He wasn't in the habit of carrying these things around with him, like Linus.
Over at the motel, he found the unit on the far end did indeed have a hideous red SUV parked outside. A discreet tan sedan rested nearby; Finn's car, Ziggy surmised. He tapped at the door, realizing as he did so that it was now quite late, and dark, maybe Finn had given up on him by this time and gone to bed...
But after a moment there came the sound of a lock turning, then the door swung open. Ziggy stepped inside, squinting into semi-darkness; and there was Finn, sleepy-eyed and rumple-haired, bare-chested and quite possibly the Hottest. Thing. Ever.
"I thought you weren't coming," Finn murmured, pushing the door closed.
"Sorry," Ziggy said inadequately. As the last crack of light vanished, Ziggy was temporarily blinded just as juicy lips fastened on his own, sending sharp thrills down nerve endings to tingle his spine. He felt Finn's mustache bristle against his face, and nuzzled back, relishing the tiny spikes of hair prickling his skin.
"You're wearing too many clothes," Finn muttered, stepping backward to the bed. Ziggy blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimness; Finn was wearing only boxer shorts, a snug fit showing off a sizable bulge.
"We can fix that." Ziggy spent some time taking off his clothes, placing his shoulder holster with his gun carefully over the back of a chair, while Finn sprawled on the bed and watched.
As Ziggy approached the bed, Finn sat up and put his feet on the floor. He reached out to place a hand on Ziggy's hip, and pulled Ziggy toward him, taking him fully in his mouth.
Whoa and wow and fuck. It had been way too long. Ziggy groped for the memory of the last blow-job he'd had, on vacation in California the previous year, in a hotel room rather nicer than this one. This... was better. Finn Massey might be shy and closeted, but he'd learned enough along the way to know how to blow.
Ziggy let himself be taken to the brink before stepping back and dropping to his knees to reciprocate. Finn moaned, "Yeah, Ziggy, oh, yeah"clasping at Ziggy's head, groping at his hair, then gasped sharply and pulled back just in time, shooting over Ziggy's shoulder.
"Huh, sorry," Finn gasped. "Closer than I thought. Fucking amazing."
Ziggy wondered if maybe it had been even longer since Finn had sex than he had. He got to his feet, flexing aching knees, and reaching for his own hard-on, ready to finish himself off.
"If you like to top, you can do me," Finn said awkwardly, and Ziggy was surprised but pleased. He was versatile and willing to do either for the right man.
It did sound appealing, actually. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, do it." Finn breathed deeply.
Ziggy took his time getting ready, getting Finn ready with the help of some hand lotion, thinking it might be really a while since Agent Fintan Massey had done this. Once he had Finn appropriately slippery and relaxed and compliant on his back, legs splayed, Ziggy sheathed up and went in.
Oh my God I can happy die right now I've experienced heaven. Being inside Finn was just magic; suspended in a trembling, ecstatic trance-like state, Finn tight and quivering beneath him. The two of them remained locked in a heaving thrusting mass until Ziggy climaxed with a strangled cry, and Finn threw his arms up to embrace him as he collapsed.
After a few minutes, Ziggy pulled out as gently as he could and shifted sidewards onto the bed beside Finn. The world faded from Technicolor back to dim shades of darkness.
Ziggy woke from dreamless sleep to find Finn sprawled on the bed beside him, snoring softly. He was really damn good-looking, Ziggy realized; all the more so when naked with mussed-up hair.
It was three AM. Ziggy got up to get a glass of water, moving quietly so as not to disturb his sleeping companion.
He spotted a folded sheet of paper stuck under the motel room door. He picked it up, and saw it was addressed to Mr Stapleton.
Wrong room, Ziggy thought, as the piece of paper fell open in his hand. It was a note from the motel clerk saying the rogue red SUV had been towed, so if he wanted to move his car into the space outside, that would be fine.
Right room. Wrong name? Suddenly Ziggy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked around the room, then headed toward the closet, where Finn had hung up all his clothes neatly. In the inside jacket pocket was a wallet; a wad of cash, no credit cards (odd), and a driver's license. With Finn's picture, but someone else's name. Robert Stapleton.
What the fuck was going on?
Who had he just slept with?
Ziggy groped for his own clothes which were stacked on a chair. He pulled on his pants and felt less vulnerable immediately. He then fished his gun out of the shoulder holster, which was looped around the chair back. The cold metal in his hand made his fear ebb away, to be replaced by anger. There was deception going on here somewhere, and he didn't like it one little bit.
He snapped the bedside light on and shook Finn awake. As Finn squinted and muttered "Uh?", rubbing his eyes, Ziggy sat down in the chair next to the bed.
"What the fuck?"Finn's voice rose to a shriek as he saw Ziggy pointing the gun in Finn's direction.
"Mr Robert Stapleton, or should I say Agent Fintan Massey?" Ziggy demanded.
"What! Oh! Fuck!" Finn rubbed a hand across his face. "Put the gun down! I'm Finn Massey, I'm a federal agent, you knowthat!"
Rationality seeped back into Ziggy's seething soul; he did know that. This guy had been introduced by the chief of police as a federal agent, they'd sat and talked about New Jersey crime, that was all true.
"Where's your badge?" Ziggy thought to query.
"Locked in the briefcase under the bed. With mygun and stuff. Take a look if you don't believe me."
But Ziggy did believe it, and put his own gun back in the shoulder holster. It had been an overreaction. He was still angry, though. "What's this Robert Stapleton shit about?"
Finn flushed pink and looked down at the bedcovers. "I'm... undercover."
Ziggy was indignant at the idea that a federal investigation might be going on under his nose after all. "You said you were off duty."
"I am." Finn shifted in the bed. "I'm... personally undercover. Robert Stapleton is my alter ego."
Ziggy digested this. "You go out to get laid under another name?"
"Why not?" Finn said, in a reasoned tone. "Half the names people give out in bars are fake."
"Maybe, but not everyone has a driving license to back their story up," Ziggy retorted.
"It's from an old investigation, when I really was undercover," Finn admitted. "They forgot to ask for the ID back, so I never gave it them. Thought it might be useful."
A revolting thought occurred to Ziggy. "Don't tell me you go and give rentboys your fake name, then whip out your badge when they're about to put your dick in their mouth and tell them they're giving you a freebie tonight." Ziggy had once had a dirtball colleague in Vice who had been in the habit of doing exactly that, with hookers. Bastard.
"Christ, no!" Finn's face screwed up into contortions. "Listen, I go to bars once in a blue moon! I live like a monk, I watch TV every night and eat TV dinners. When I can't stand it anymore I jack off over porn, which I then hide at the back of my closet in case someone from work comes around." Beat. "And just sometimes, if I'm a long way from home, maybe I'll dig out my Robert Stapleton ID and see if I can get laid. I know, it's sad."
It wassad. Although Ziggy didn't relate to much of Finn's description, he felt a small twinge of empathy at the last part; he also waited until he was a long way from home before he ever tried to get laid.
So, Fintan Massey was a lonely closeted fuckup. Damn shame. Ziggy swallowed regrets, and stood up to go. "Nice getting to know you, Agent Massey. Maybe I'll see you around."
"You're leaving?" Finn's face arched with dismay.
"I don't like people lying to me," Ziggy said starkly.
"But I didn't lie to you," Finn burst out. "I didn't give you my fake name."
"You couldn't," Ziggy pointed out.
"Thing is, actually, you're the first person I ever slept with where I really could be myself," Finn said in a whisper. "First person I've ever even metwhere I could really be myself."
And that made Ziggy pause. Because that really was something. "You're not out. Nobody knows?"
"Nope."
Please. The guy had hand lotion on his nightstand and ironed his shirts. "What about your partner, Benitez?"
"She suspects, 'cause I've worked with her two years and never tried to grab her ass." Finn shrugged. "She once said I must be either gay or a gentleman. I said the two weren't mutually exclusive. She hasn't asked since."
Benitez knew, Ziggy surmised, but wasn't the type to pry. "Your family?"
"Blissful ignorance," Finn said in a tone of the utmost gloom. "Age thirty-five and Mom and Dad still think I haven't met the right girl yet."
Ziggy ruminated on that for a minute.
"What do you want from me?" he said at last.
Finn paused in turn, before saying simply, "I guess I was hoping I could keep being myself with you."
"I can't. I-" Ziggy struggled mentally with his rules. They could be broken, like any rules. "Look, I can't go out with a Fed! I'm a cop. Cops and Feds, we don't mix, do we? What if we had to work together? What if you had a case in my area? If my colleagues found out-"
"Then we have something in common," Finn pounced. "Neither of us want to be found out. Look, we can make this work. Please. I really want to."
He was still naked, his hair was still mussed, and his stubble shaded his cheekbones and jawline in a most attractive way.
Ziggy was to remember that image often in future, when wondering how on earth he had ended up in a relationship with Finn Massey.
END OF PART 1. TBC.
Next part: Finn evades all Ziggy's friends except Edward.