Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]

Add Reply
But the best story that I could ever tell
Topic Started: Jan 4 2018, 09:04 PM (16 Views)
Peyton Brooks

Peyton had picked a good line of work, that was what his father had always said. He had been smart, always thinking ahead. Personally, all Peyton had really thought about was the fact that he believed in his country. He loved his country and he could say he was proud of being an American. He valued the place he had been born in, but he had never quite been sure how to express it. He wouldn't say that he had been a drifter at a young age, but he hadn't quite known his purpose. Not until the news started reporting a fighting going on in foreign counties. He was nineteen when the news started calling it a great war, a war that was drawing in more and more people. The Americans were staying out of it, but it had been like Peyton had been given his purpose, laid out right before him. He had joined the army and he had trained and every day he had trained, he had felt more invested, he had felt...energized almost. It hadn't been until a year later that America was moving from being neutral to being "prepared"; they had to get more people, they needed to be ready just in case and Peyton had felt so confident in his choice. It had still been another two years give or take before the American people decided they were at war. Flocks of men came in then, drafted because...well, it was war and their army had been too small. Suddenly Peyton had found himself further away from home than he had ever been, across the ocean and fighting for people he had never met alongside people he hardly knew. And it had been both the most terrifying and amazing thing in his life. In those moments as people fired on him and he fired right back, he knew what his calling was.


When the war ended (it had lasted a year longer, but some days it felt like more than that, other times, he felt as if it had only lasted one long day), he realized maybe the army wasn't his calling exactly. Oh he could stay and he wouldn't have minded remaining in the army, but without a war, what good was a soldier? What could he do outside of push ups in the morning and cards in the evening and waiting for a use? In the field he had thought his calling was to be an army man, but when he came home he realized his calling was a protector. A protector of the people that always tried to keep bringing truth and justice forward. Well, a cop was mighty close to that. It gave him something to do and in Chicago, there wasn't much down time. His colleagues had all been good natured, proud to have someone who had volunteered for the army before the draft took place and teased him that he was like some kind of sheepdog, always needing to be out and protecting the flocks. It had made Peyton proud and he had worked hard had it. He had been twenty four when he had left the army and by thirty, they were coming to him and asking him to be a federal marshal. His boss had been proud of him, all of the precinct had been proud of him, and that sort of promotion had shown him just how valued he was. Or it meant they wanted to get rid of him, he could believe it either way, honestly. He didn't care. He didn't care at all because he had training to do, he had tests to pass because he couldn't just be a marshal.


Seven years he had been doing that work. Eight years alongside a partner that had been more cheerful and more invested in police work than even he had been. Foster Lee had been like him – always wanting to do something, always wanting to help people – but he had found police work long before Peyton. And somehow, the man had remained shiny and new feeling. He was always asking if maybe they shouldn't be asking the people they caught up why. Had anyone ever asked them why before? Foster always struck him as a man who should have been driven out of there by how dark the underbelly was, but he stuck around. Their superiors said they worked well together; Foster made Peyton just a bit more soft, just a bit more gentle so that it wasn't always aggression, and in turn, he made Foster a little more firm, a little more ready to put the pressure on people. They were perfect good cop, bad cop and they worked it. Peyton didn't think too much on it, he just enjoyed the work and the traveling. Then one day, their job had taken them all the way to Texas, some small little town that their perp thought he could hide in, that it would make him safe. He had been caught within days....and so had Peyton. Peyton would say he didn't have a drinking problem, who had a problem with it? But Foster always sighed at him and said he always found the bars no matter where he went. Peyton had shrugged it off and gone...and that was where he had met the most handsome man he had seen in years. Peyton always figured he was lucky; he liked the looks of men, but he had also liked women. No one really thought two licks about what he did going off with a man because they had seen him with women, had seen him be serious with women. But his bartender – Marc – had made him want to throw caution to the wind. They had talked – flirted subtly – and by the time the bar closed, he had been asking Marc to move to Chicago with him and Marc said yes.


They'd been...together for a year. Peyton always went back and forth on if they were properly together. To him, being together meant they should be able to tell everyone, walk around without fear or worry...but Marc pointed out they were committed, they had their moments in private and if Peyton loved him as much as Marc loved Peyton, then they were together, weren't they? Peyton couldn't argue that logic. He couldn't deny he was in love with the younger man. If he wasn't in love, he wouldn't have moved Marc up here, gotten to know him slowly and made it so that no one knew what they were to each other. To the outside world, Peyton was just a federal marshal who had no time to take care of his house and Marc was the man who he had hired to take care of it and watch it when he went out of town. These days, no one really questioned that. With jobs being what they were, they thought good for Marc for finding stable work and sighing over Peyton having been smart enough to get into law work. No shortage of criminals. But Peyton found he was getting older. He had been driving for what felt like days straight, though in actually he and Foster had been trading off. His back was stiff, his legs were sore from all the foot work, he was tired and he was hungry. But all that melted away as he walked up the steps to his home, as he stepped inside. By the time he closed the door, it had vanished quickly. He did a quick glance around, quick look to the windows to see if they were open or closed, to see if any neighbors were being nosy. "Baby, I'm home." He supposed he would always wish to be more open, but love was love, wasn't it?
Edited by Peyton Brooks, Jan 4 2018, 09:09 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Marc Miller

Marc had never done anything against the rules his whole life. He never had reason to. His family was all right. They weren't rich, but they weren't the poorest of laborers. They got by well enough. If they didn't seem to... well, like him that much then that was fine, too. He had friends. He had the wide outdoors. He had others things to do. He tried to tell himself that it didn't bother him so much and, for the most part, he succeeded in not thinking about it. He went to school and finished all the way, but once he had graduated he had no reason to keep going. What did he want to be? He didn't know. He didn't really fall into the more traditional manly jobs. He didn't want to be a cop. He didn't want to be a farmer. He didn't want to do something risky and dangerous. He didn't want to do factory work or cook or anything. He just wanted to... be. Throughout most of his days, he had just wanted to... be with his closest friend, but that just wasn't allowed. No one, not even James, knew about that little secret because there was no telling how anyone else - especially James - would react to it. When James had gotten himself arrested, he had tried to turn his attentions onto Curtis, but the same problem was there. You couldn't just say things like that to anyone and before long Curtis was married, James had broken out of jail, married a girl and was currently on the run from the law. The last Marc had heard from him, they'd been contemplating robbing a bank.

And Marc was still sitting in the same town doing absolutely nothing at all with his life, against the rules or not. That was what had decided him. It was a foolish, stupid move and he had known it, but he had just said he was moving out, he was going to live in another city, and he had done it. It had been terrifying. He had only the money that he had saved over the years, which wasn't much, and the few things that he had packed. He had no jobs and no real experience but he had done it... sort of. It wasn't like he had gone anywhere grand. A bigger town, sure, but still small. It was no Dallas, but it would do. It was just big enough to warrant itself a downtown, the start of what might one day be a bigger city, and with that came the seeds of the underworld that seemed to be in every town nowadays. Not a lot, no; the bigger names and the bigger money was in the bigger towns, but some criminals had realized that smaller towns made safer havens for smaller ventures. That was where he had ended up. Alcohol was illegal nowadays, but that didn't stop it from being produced or people from drinking it. In a small town like this, the bars were hidden... but the police all knew about them anyways because they were some of the most frequent clientele. It was a very hush-hush sort of coexistence and it had ended up suiting Marc just fine. It was just on this side of illegal to be thrilling, yet it was relatively safe when you got down to it. It had netted him a job and a feeling of self-confidence that he hadn't ever really had before. He was working serving illegal alcohol in an illegal establishment and he was making his own money. Life was pretty good, all things considered, even if there were still some things he couldn't say or do. Eventually, though, the glamour of it all wore off. Oh, the job was decent enough. It paid well enough for the way the world was. Now, though, it was just a job and nothing much more.

One day, someone from out of town had rolled into the bar. There had been a tense few minutes as the whispers followed him and said he was a federal marshal. A federal marshal from out of town could cause a lot of problems in an illegal establishment, no matter how much the local police officers might drag their heels about giving him help. Instead of arresting the entire bar of workers and clientele, however, the man had just come to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, said he wasn't here to make trouble and that he had just wanted a drink. Marc had been stunned by that - though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised given the amount of people that he usually served every night. People still wanted their liquor, after all - and by the looks of the man. Older than Marc, but so ruggedly handsome, with dark blond hair and entrancing blue eyes, just the right amount of stubble on his chin. His heart had been in his throat the entire time and it had only gotten worse when Marc realized that the man was flirting with him. With him. It was the best he could do to just clumsily flirt back, awkward and unsure but very much interested. Before the night was through, Marc had made the second most uncharacteristic choice of his life. He had jumped when Peyton had asked him to come to Chicago with him - the tone of his voice said forever, the tone of his voice said as more than just some kid he wanted to tag along. Marc had said yes without even pausing to think. They had spent every night together until Peyton and his partner captured their man. Marc had been forced to follow them his own way thanks to their need to escort a criminal back up north but the promised home and lover had been waiting for him the moment he got there.

It hadn't been easy. Not the relationship - that had been the easiest thing in the world and sometimes Marc thought it was almost too easy - but just everything else. They couldn't walk down the street holding hands. Peyton couldn't take him to the movies or the fair. Peyton couldn't say he was going home to the man that he loved, just that he had a housekeeper that took care of the house when he was gone. That was another trial, too. Peyton was gone a lot. He was always out tracking down a criminal that had gotten themselves on the wanted list and decided to run all over the country. It meant that Marc was alone a lot of the time. He knew that it honestly just helped aid their story, but that didn't mean he didn't get lonely or scared when he was stuck there all by himself for weeks at a time. Letters and sparse phone calls did little to ease the loneliness and the worry, but Marc made do.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention and he paused - as he always did - and waited with anticipation to see if it was Peyton or if maybe someone had decided now was a good time to break into the house. A few seconds later and he heard that deep, rich, wonderful voice that sent little thrills through him time and time again. Marc pushed himself up and off of the couch and dashed forward before he practically threw himself onto the other man, wrapping his arms around him tightly, burying his face against Peyton's chest. "I missed you." It wasn't the least bit adequate as to how he felt, honestly. It was more than missing Peyton. It was missing half of himself it felt like.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Peyton Brooks

Once when he had first started as a federal marshal, coming home had been a relief. Going around chasing perps had always been exhausting, sleeping in hotel rooms had had a certain flare until you were still on the road two weeks later. Coming home had been such a relief that he had usually wandered to the couch and just lied there and took it all in. By the time he came home, the smell of his place had always become just unfamiliar enough that he was left inhaling it and noticing it. He could feel all the good spots in his bed that the hotel beds hadn't had. He could see whatever food he was use to and cook himself. It had been a blessing. But the longer he worked, the more tired he got. He came home and it wasn't anything...special. It had been kind of lonely, in its own way. People suggested a dog, lots of people had dogs, that would cheer him up. But they never seemed to know what to do with him and the fact that he was out of town so often. That wasn't fair to a dog and he didn't exactly trust anyone to be going in and out of his house. People these days were getting desperate. People got stupid ideas of what was okay. He didn't want anyone knowing he was gone for weeks and usually forgot what was normal for his house. What if people were using it to house people that had no where else to go? What if they were hiding illegal things in it? Maybe he should have worried about Marc doing the same thing, but...but when he saw the younger man, all he could feel was love.


Especially when Marc practically launched himself at Peyton, when he wrapped his arms around him and buried his face against his chest. Peyton wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly, securely. This was what he had wanted. Home was great and all, it was the nice thing to come home to while on the road, but no he had someone to come home to. He had someone to love, even if society didn't think too much of that. When Marc said he missed Peyton, for the first moment, Peyton couldn't really say anything. There were too many words to say, too many things that needed to be said that they crowded so much that they couldn't come out. Instead, he wrapped his arms firmer around Marc, hefting him up into his arms. "Oh baby, you got no idea how much I missed you," he finally said. He held Marc tight, held him up so he could kiss him. He kissed him freely, firmly, putting how much he had missed the younger man into that kiss. He would never be able to do that outside of his home and if he wasn't careful, possibly nosy neighbors might be peeking in at any moment. But Peyton wasn't ever going to stop kissing Marc. He would lie his ass off and manipulate the fact that he was a federal marshal to his advantage. Sure there were plenty of corrupt cops that manipulated the system, but they still got away, didn't they? Peyton still had the advantage of the fact that people liked him, they trusted him, and if he were to say he didn't know what nosy neighbors were talking about and why would he ever kiss his housekeeper, he would only feel guilty about having to lie over his feelings for Marc.


He set Marc down again, but he ran his hands through the younger man's hair. Touching just to touch, feeling him, getting to know him all over again as if something would have changed while he was gone. "I'm sorry I was gone so long," he offered. "We would have had him but we think someone might have tipped him off and he went running." These days that happened a lot. People weren't quite of the mind that the cops were the bad guys in the situation, but sometimes they weren't seen as exactly good either. Everyone was struggling these days, everyone needed to survive. If a person played their cards right, they could become a folk hero or something. If a person didn't hurt anyone, even when they stole from people, they might start getting these bigger and bigger stories. They didn't hurt anyone so they were doing what they had to to survive, they were doing what everyone else wanted to do. Those sorts of people were what regular society wanted to become when things were so dark. Everyone dreamed of being brave enough to rob a bank, of being able to afford whatever they wanted again. When the cops stepped in, it was like they were the sudden bad guys. No one was getting hurt, right? So it was like everyone's brain went on vacation. They wanted a criminal to survive, to make it, to not be arrested because that was them, they liked to think. A cop was being cruel and not understanding when they tried to bring the person down again. They didn't seem to realize that people that stole from others usually graduated to more serious crimes eventually. One day, a bank teller wouldn't move fast enough or there wasn't enough money. There might be a jumpier member of the group. The sun might be overcast. Whatever the reason, eventually those sorts of people did worse things. They shot people, they stabbed people, they kidnapped people. It was better to just live by the law.


Leaning in, he kissed Marc again because they had been separated for so long, because he had missed him, because it had felt so right to do. "How was it while I was gone, baby?" At first it had been kind of nice knowing someone was in his house taking care of it and watching over it. But the longer he had spent with Marc, the longer he had mornings where he woke up beside the younger man and just watched his sleeping face, the more he began to worry. It wasn't quite like he had been with the house. The house would have survived most things, he would deal if he got robbed. But Marc was a living and breathing person; he was someone who went out to get groceries or supplies, he was all alone in this house. Chicago wasn't exactly the nicest of places anymore, even with Peyton having moved to a quieter junction. What if Marc got hurt? What if Marc got threatened? What if Marc – he shook his head a little, walking further into the house so he could go over to the couch, dropping down on to it.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Marc Miller

Everything just seemed to melt away when those strong arms wrapped around Marc. All of the fears and worries of the days and weeks, all of the feelings of wondering if Peyton was okay between letters and phone calls that were sparse enough as it was, all the feelings of wondering if maybe Peyton wasn't going to come home and decide he had made a terrible mistake in inviting Marc to live with him. None of it seemed to matter anymore when Peyton's arms wrapped around him. They were strong, hard, they were the arms of a man who had trained to be in peak physical condition for his job. They were the arms of a protector and that was what Marc had wanted more than anything, he had found. he wanted someone who was strong, who was brave, who was protective; he had gotten all of that in Peyton. "I don't know. If it's even half as much as I missed you then I think I might kinda got an idea," Marc told the other man. He let out the tiniest of squeaks as Peyton hefted him up in his arms, holding him up in the air, up against his body, and then the older man kissed him. It was a deep, passionate kiss and Marc could only sigh into it, bringing his hands up to slide into Peyton's dark blond strands of hair. All thoughts of propriety, of checking to see if the windows were closed or if anyone was looking firmly fled in the face of that kiss and of the feelings that it woke in him; not just feelings of lust, which there were plenty, but of love that practically broke his heart, it felt like, with how deep that he felt it.

He made a small, discontent little noise when Peyton set him back down again but it quickly faded away in the face of the older man bringing his hands up to just run through his hair. That was enough to get Marc's eyes closing, to get him to lean against Peyton and make another noise this time, one that said how much he liked the feel of that, that said how he could just keep on doing that as long as he wanted to. "It's your job," he murmured in response to Peyton's apology. He had been made aware of that from day one, even if he was pretty certain that back then Marc hadn't been quite sure just what that would entail. The wife of a normal police officer would have to worry about her husband being shot on the job or being injured in some other fashion. That was no easy thing, of course, but the amount of time in which they would receive the terrible information was limited to about a day at the most. With Peyton? Marc never knew how he was. The older man would call when he had the time and they had managed to find a place with a phone. The conversations were always stilted, always full of unspoken phrases and codes that they had come up with just in case an operator was listening. Then he wasn't likely to hear anything for days, unless Peyton had managed to scribble out a letter. The letters were a little bit better, but not by much. You couldn't know if someone might get a hold of a letter. The absolute best that they could hope for if someone found out was that Peyton would lose his job. Of course, in this economy that was tantamount to a death sentence. Marc knew quite well from growing up where he had that there could be many more worse fates and that while Peyton's status as a federal marshal in very good standing might protect him at least a little bit... it wasn't going to protect Marc. He shook his head somewhat, dismissing the thoughts. "They probably did if he found the right people to hide out with." It was a dog eat dog world and there was a very much us versus them mentality nowadays. Marc had seen it firsthand. Not that he could blame them. It was hard to blame someone who had stolen a chicken or some eggs or some bread just to keep their family alive one more day for being angry that the law then turned around and arrested him, meaning that they weren't going to turn a blind eye to someone trying to not die and that their family might not make it now. It was hard to not want to take a stance against things like that when you had nothing.

It was easy to forget about all of that, though, when Peyton leaned in and kissed him again. It was easy to forget about everything when Peyton did that. It was something he didn't think that he would ever get tired of, something that he hoped he would never get tired of. He could only sigh a little when Peyton pulled back to ask him how it had been. "All right, I guess." If it was a lackluster response, well... Marc didn't have much to talk about. He supposed it was good that he didn't. The neighbors had been inquisitive at first, but they had quickly died away when they had realized that Marc was pretty much doing exactly what Peyton had said he was hired to do. He was cleaning, doing laundry, keeping the yard in at least somewhat of an acceptable state even if he obviously didn't enjoy doing it. The fact that he was half Mexican probably only helped solidify in their eyes that he obviously was hired help. And it made sense. Peyton was gone days, sometimes weeks, tracking down criminals. Someone had to be there to keep the dust off of everything, to keep things from going stale, to collect the mail, to make sure that the food was fresh and not spoiled. It probably helped that Marc just... didn't go out much. He didn't know this town and it was much, much bigger than he was used to. He preferred to stay inside most of the time unless he had to go out or unless Peyton was there to show him around... but then they couldn't really go out together that much. It would look strange for the man to be taking his housekeeper out on what was practically a date, after all.

He trailed after Peyton as he walked over to the couch and dropped onto it. Marc slid down onto it next to him and curled up against his side within seconds, burrowing against the other man, resting his face against Peyton's side. "I was lonely, but nothin' much happened otherwise. I think people are bored of waiting to see if I'm gonna do something or steal something now." Because he'd just proven he was a young man who was working hard at his job.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Peyton Brooks

Peyton turned his face to press against Marc's hair, inhaling slowly. Was it possessive of him to think that Marc smelled like home? It could go either way that Marc's scent was just what he associated with it home or that his home had finally put itself on Marc through laundry and soap. He didn't care because he had Marc in his arms and Marc was hugging him back and nothing could make them part. "Oh, are you trying to show me up?" he teased, burying his face against Marc's neck to press a few light kisses there before he had picked him up. The kiss they shared was deeper and he put as much feeling into it as he possibly could. "It was like being without my heart," he told Marc softly, whispering against Marc's lips. He had always thought he wouldn't be one of those overly romantic types, the ones that had been in pictures. He had always felt he was down to earth and reasonable and had a good head on his shoulders. But being with Marc, he felt like he had been clouded. All he could think about most days was Marc and how much it hurt not to be close to him, how it hurt not to talk about him. All he wanted to do was take Marc out, maybe hold his hand, maybe even just be able to show the barest amount of affection. Unfortunately, it would look too weird if he were to take his housekeeper out of a movie or out to dinner....he still did it on occasion and when people asked after it, there was always an answer. When they went shopping, it was the fact that sometimes Marc lived in the house more than he did and had a better idea than Peyton as to what was needed. When it was a movie or dinner, Peyton shrugged and said it was as a thank you because Peyton had been late on paying him. If he didn't do it very often, people believed that even if it still wasn't enough for him.


God, listening to Marc right now, how could he not love him? How could he have gone so long without loving him? All he had wanted was this right here. "That may be my job to everyone else, but my real job is taking care of you." He never would have said anything like that outside of their home, not even if Marc happened to be a woman. There was just some things you didn't say and the fact of the matter was that Peyton didn't usually view himself as romantic. But Marc had brought it out in him, had made him realize how much he could love. Every second that they had realized their guy was getting further and further away, all he could do was curse and think of Marc back in this old house all alone. He had just been grateful that they had found a phone that he could Marc up on, that Foster had said he needed to go check something (sounding an awful lot like he knew what was happening, he knew what Peyton was doing, but the fact he hadn't called Peyton on it yet meant something). It had been full of quiet comments about how they were going to be late and the quickest, softest 'I love you' that he hadn't risked ever before. It had been worth the risk, it had made his heart pound for hours afterward and Foster never asked why he had seemed full of jangled nerves. "I'm beginning to think they all got it out for me." Not that he could blame some of them...but then again, as a federal marshal he hardly saw people stealing food for their families like local cops did. That was hardly a reason to run off. But people robbing banks? That was something. And even if the times were rough, there were still people who thought it was a perfectly okay idea to hurt others.


When Marc said it was all right and didn't sound exactly enthusiastic about it, Peyton could only stroke his cheek lightly. He was of two minds about it. It was good because it meant people had stopped poking after Marc, they had stopped seeing him as an oddity and apparently they weren't talking about him at all. When Marc had first come, people had gossiped; oh they tried to do it in a way that Peyton or Marc didn't hear, but Peyton always managed to find out somehow. That was the nature of the beast. So it was good they had stopped talking as much...but at the same time Peyton had hoped that by now Marc might have made some friends around here. They had been very cautious at first, Marc hadn't been overly interested in seeing the city and it had made it so he was a home body for the most part. But as time passed, he had hoped a neighbor or two would have seen Marc taking out trash or cleaning the windows or something and introduced themselves. Even one person. But that was a vain hope. For all intents and purposes, Marc was the hired help. Peyton didn't live in the highest class of neighborhoods, not ones that routinely had hired help, but most people around here could look at Marc and go 'well I'm struggling to put the food on the table, but at least I'm not that' as if Marc couldn't make twice they were doing. He shook away the thoughts as he settled himself onto the couch, throwing an arm around Marc as the younger man burrowed against him. They couldn't go out and hold hands and they had to be very careful of where the windows were, but at least they had this. "Aw, baby, they don't realize you all ready stole something." He pulled Marc close so he could press a kiss to his head, running his hand up and down his arm. "You stole my heart ages ago," he said in a mock serious voice. But he was glad that the neighbors had been cautious on Peyton's behalf (though maybe they just wanted a scandal) and he was even more glad that they had finally settled down. Marc was a fixture now and that was the important thing.


For a long moment, he just sat there, running his hand up and down Marc's arm, feeling the weight of him there. He radiated warmth, which for Peyton was the best thing he could imagine. The heat Marc put out may have been imaginary, may have just been Peyton thinking about it, but it was better than any hot bath or overly warm house. It made him almost sleepy, but that might have been the fact that he had been gone for over a week and eighty percent of that had been driving and trying to sleep in a car with a partner that seemed to think that when they were in the car, it was talking time. "You know," he found himself saying. "I was thinking about getting a dog." Peyton had thought about it off and on over the time he had become an adult, but he had never put much stock into it. He had no time for one, it wouldn't be fair to the dog because it wasn't like he could bring it with him. But now? Now Marc was home and...and maybe he would like the company. Maybe he would feel a bit more secure having the dog in the house and it would be another reason to solidify that Marc had a purpose in their home. It would guard the house so Marc didn't have to be afraid and if he wanted to, he could take it on walks and maybe meet some people.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Marc Miller

"Of course. That's what I do, you know," Marc said as Peyton teased him. Once upon a time, he probably would have thought Peyton was being serious. Once in awhile, he was sure he would still feel his insecurities flair up enough to tell him that obviously Peyton was being serious even when it was obvious that he was teasing. Right now, though, it didn't matter. Right now, he could see the tease. Maybe it was helped along by the light kisses against his neck before Peyton hefted him up into the air and held him firmly against his body. The feelings and emotions that came through the kiss certainly swayed any doubts that might be there. That was the kiss of a man in love and Marc did his best to put just as much love back into it. "Pey," he whispered the other man's name out softly as he spoke, as he said that being without Marc was like being without his heart. His own heart felt like it would practically break from the love that he felt, from the thought of how long it had been since they had seen one another, of all the missed times that they could have had together but Peyton's job required him to be away for so long. He moved his hands to Peyton's cheeks and leaned in to kiss him again gently. "Like being without the other half of your soul." And it hurt to be missing that. He didn't think he would have changed his mind if he had known how much Peyton would be away, but maybe it would have made it easier to deal with... and it didn't help that when Peyton came home they still had to mostly be Peyton the federal marshal, the bachelor, and Marc the hired help. Never able to truly step out of their social bounds that put Peyton miles about Marc and also not able to avoid the social stigma that would follow them otherwise.

Marc paused and then smiled up at Peyton as he said that his job was taking care of him. "You do a good job of it, baby," he told him, sincerely. Yes, Peyton was gone a lot. Again, Marc had been told that from the start. He missed him terribly when he was gone but he accepted it. When Peyton was here he did take care of Marc. He took care of all of his needs. Marc always felt safe, protected, wanted, loved... and even when Peyton was gone, Peyton made sure he was cared for. He left him money, gave him contacts in the police department to call if it sounded like something was happening. Even the hastily scribbled letters and the brief phone calls were all signs of Peyton trying to take care of him and all Marc could do was love him more for it... especially with how risky they could be. The last phone conversation that they had had was something that had filled him both with joy that practically burst from him and absolute terror that an operator or a phone tap of some sort had been in place. One small, tiny little declaration of love could bring them both tumbling down and Peyton had thought it worth the risk to say it to him where someone might hear. "Some of them probably do," he said gently, not wanting to think about that at all but he knew it was the truth. The law was the enemy to people who came from his neck of the woods. No one wanted anything to do with them whatsoever. Of course, Peyton was usually going after the big criminals but that didn't mean local citizens had love for him and his partner any more just because they were tracking down bank robbers and car thieves. Likely they saw some of those flashy gangsters and mobsters and criminals as heroes.

Marc smiled a little at the soft touch against his cheek. He turned his head into the stroke for a moment, closing his eyes and practically purring at the feel of it. "It's not bad, baby. Just a little lonely and boring sometimes... but I'd rather be lonely and bored than have people snooping around all the time." Not all of the neighbors would do that, of course. There were plenty, though, that would take a chance to see what was going on in someone's home. Peyton was a federal marshal, too. They would just love to see how a federal marshal's home differed from their own. Some of them would want to see if he was up to something, if there were bodies hidden, so to speak. Then there would always be some that were sure Marc was nothing more than a thief simply because he showed some of his ethnicity. They would love to find him doing something wrong so they could cheerfully report it to Peyton the next time he came home. He honestly doubted any of the neighbors thought that Marc and Peyton were together but if they had any kind of interest in what was going on inside for other reasons it might lead to them finding out more than they bargained for. So Marc mostly kept to himself. He was so far under the class of the other people - in their opinion, anyways - that they hardly wanted to speak to him. He would have to venture out further for that and he honestly didn't feel comfortable in doing that, especially with Peyton gone all the time. He squirmed a little against Peyton's side as the older man said he had already stolen something, then pulled him close, pressed a kiss against his head and said that he had stolen his heart. "Pey, that's so cliche... and I love it." God help him, but he did.

Marc settled further against Peyton as the other man ran his hand up and down his arm over and over. It was a soothing, lulling feeling and one he had come to enjoy... just like practically everything else with Peyton. He loved curling up against the man. He loved the strong arms that would wrap around him or lift him up. He loved being this close to him and knowing that Peyton was enjoying being just as close to Marc. It helped to remember when Peyton was gone for days or weeks at a time. It helped when he wasn't so sure if things were as they seemed, if maybe one day Peyton wasn't going to turn him out. He just had to remember these times and he would feel most of those fears smoothed out again. He made a small, questioning noise when Peyton first spoke, turning his head to look up at the other man. When Peyton continued on, he just stared for a few seconds before his face brightened up. "A dog?! Baby, really?" Peyton had always wanted a dog. It wasn't something you got to have when you weren't exactly well off, however. He remembered all too well how his friends had wanted one, too, but dogs cost money and dogs needed food. When you had children and yourself to feed most adults weren't too keen on getting a dog. Not unless you lived in the country and that dog could scrounge its own food and help you hunt or do other tasks. "I'd like that," he said after a moment, almost shyly.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Peyton Brooks

"My own partner," he sighed out in a forlorn sort of way. Once upon a time, back when they first started this relationship, he had felt almost hesitant to name what they had, as if someone would come poking their head in and find them. But the more they had been together, the more he had looked about his life and realized that while people watched, if he was careful, people didn't watch that closely. It had taken him only a matter of a couple of weeks to find the place he was most comfortable with Marc. Marc had seemed to take longer...but then, Peyton supposed Marc had a little bit more to worry about. Peyton was, in essence, a man's man. People had seen him with women before and nothing about him hit on the senses of the fact that he very well could find men attractive. Marc was a little less able to slide by, Marc probably couldn't find the same kind of comfortable middle ground. But having Marc with him, holding Marc up as he did, and hearing Marc's voice just drove home what he would do for Marc. People could question Marc all they wanted, they could gossip if need be, and Peyton would step in and counter it. He would put his reputation on the line, just so Marc was safe. He nuzzled in closer as Marc whispered out his name – no, not even his name, but the private little nickname he had come upon one day. It had always seemed like a good nickname, a good way to shorten his name, but no one had ever thought to do it, not until Marc. Marc placed his hands over his cheeks, leaning in to kiss him and Peyton could do nothing but let him. Hell, he didn't want to do anything but let him. Kissing Marc had quickly become his favorite thing to do, the thing that had helped him relax even more than the illegal alcohol in his home. "You got it down, baby," he murmured when Marc said it was like being without half of the soul. It had been. There had always been that hollow point where Marc was suppose to fit and not having him there...well, it had been hard.


He gave a slow, curling grin as Marc smiled at him. "Yeah?" he countered, "Well, you're the boss. Guess what you say must be true." He took what Marc said mostly at face value, though. Not because he didn't trust Marc. God he trusted Marc more than most people...it was more that Marc had this really bad tendency to downplay things. He was always telling Peyton things were fine while he was gone, when one of the neighbors had been giving him a hard time for taking care of the house. He was always fine even when there problems with the heating and he hadn't wanted to call someone just in case because it wasn't his house, Peyton, what if Peyton had some stuff he didn't want people finding out? Marc, he was sure, was always going to be fine and it was up to Peyton to sniff out the truth. Marc could be happy – was happy, he liked to think – but there were always going to be something he might not tell Peyton out of thought that Peyton would be upset or angry and Marc had caused it. But Peyton couldn't find it in himself to care because all of that...well, he loved it. He loved taking care of his partner and he was glad that Marc liked being taken care of. "Well, no man can be only loved alone, I guess." He shouldn't be encouraging that thought, especially to Marc. It would be one thing to bring it up to Foster – Foster would stare at him with wide, confused eyes, and say no they didn't have enemies and surely people would understand. Ultimately, Foster knew the risks of the job. Marc? Marc, on the other hand, had to live with the knowledge that someone might one day take Peyton out in revenge and when would someone tell Marc?


He watched Marc close his eyes and fell a swell of love in him. Had he ever loved someone as much as he had Marc? He didn't think so. It had all been faded with time and that meant it hadn't been lasting, right? "I'd rather you have...someone to spend time with when I'm not here." Maybe if he lived in a better neighborhood. Maybe if he lived in the neighborhoods where they hadn't been hit so badly by the stock market and the like. There it wouldn't be so odd to have a housekeeper and there maybe Marc could make some friends. Sure, they'd be hired help too and maybe Marc wouldn't want to be friends with someone like himself, but...it had to be better than just staying inside all the time, right? The problem was that as a federal marshal, he did all right. He had the money to feed both himself and Marc and to buy them new clothes when the need came up, to pay the bills. He couldn't just outright decide he wanted to move. He couldn't just go 'I want a different house', pack everything up and move. That took time and planning and while he was comfortable now, it didn't mean he would be in a new house. He couldn't stop his laugh as Marc squirmed a tiny bit and called him cliché. "It's a cliché because it's such a good line, right, baby?" he teased. Love had always been a strange sort of entity. It seemed like no one had time for love anymore. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty that he had found Marc and stolen him away from the world, because surely if someone else had managed to catch Marc's eye, they would have been just as happy. They would have been so over the top in love, but they had missed out.


To think there had once been a point in Peyton's life when he hadn't had anyone to come home to. He would have just come home to an empty house – sometimes full of stagnant air depending on how long he had been gone. Now he had someone to come home to, to wrap his arms around, to snuggle up to. Even if they had to hide, he would have taken it because he had something that amounted to more than that. And now he got to watch the way Marc's face brightened up in a way that he didn't think he had ever seen before. "Well, I've been thinking about it," he repeated. "figured a dog might help with the whole 'house being occupied' thing." Because Marc was good to have, but he was just one deterrent. It was just one hurdle where some person might be less inclined to go into an occupied house. Now, that didn't account for people who just didn't care or who knew it was Marc. A dog? Well, a dog was an extra feature. It could be all the difference in the world. "Plus, I seem to have someone who lives here that seems mightily interested in a dog too." And that would help Marc somewhat. If it didn't help him be more social – because he would have to walk the dog and people liked dogs right? - then it would at least give him some company. Marc could talk to it and play with it and fuss over it...all these things that he may have lacked without Peyton there. He leaned in, sneaking another small kiss as Marc said he liked it and was almost shy about it. "Then I guess we're getting a dog, aren't we?" And that sounded so...perfect. It sounded so normal. He could say that Marc had to be there, of course, because Marc was going to be spending more time with the dog than Peyton so the dog needed to like him too. It was perfect.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Marc Miller

"That's what I am," Marc told him, smiling at Peyton as he gave the most forlorn sounding sigh. It had taken them awhile to work out the kinks of a relationship. It had been even harder, initially, because Peyton could be called away at any point in time to work out of state. He could sometimes be gone anywhere from a few days to a few months. Despite that, though, things had just clicked so well between them. It was always a secret worry for Marc that that meant that something else was going to happen. Something outside of their control was going to ruin that happiness. Someone sticking their nose into business that wasn't their own or even, God forbid, a criminal. He thought about it a lot. He knew he shouldn't, but it was hard not to when he was home alone with very little else to think about. What would he do if someone figured out what he and Peyton were to one another? What would he do if Peyton just... didn't come home one day? He shook his head briskly, dismissing the thoughts. They had no place in the here and now. He had Peyton right here and the older man was holding him close. Nothing was going to take him away from Marc right now. It was much easier to focus on the other man when he was nuzzling in close to him, when he was still holding Marc up and letting Marc kiss him and kissing back. When he pulled back, Peyton spoke again and Marc just let his fingers trail over his cheeks, stroking lightly as he looked down at him. "But now they're back together," he said, softly. All was right in the world, for now. Soon enough - maybe a week or two, maybe a bit longer - Peyton would get a call that said he had to do more work and Marc would be alone again but for now. For now, the two of them were together and his heart didn't have reason to ache.

"Oh, stop," he said as Peyton grinned at him like a cheshire cat and told him that he was the boss. He felt his cheeks heat up just a tiny bit at that, at the thought that he was the one in charge of the house and everything. He didn't think it was true in the least. If anything, Peyton was the one who owned him most days. For the most part, though, Marc was fine. Marc believed his words completely - Peyton did take care of him. He worked so hard to make sure that he did take care of Marc and there were many days that Marc felt bad that he didn't really contribute much to the household itself. Sure, he kept the house mostly clean - along with the yard somewhat - and he made sure that when Peyton was home that he had fresh cooked food and freshly laundered clothing. He did the grocery shopping... but he didn't contribute much in the way of money. Of course, it wasn't like he could go out and get a bartending job again. That was just as illegal here as it had been back home. And if he was working, there were all sorts of chances for him to say something incriminating or for someone to decide they didn't like the looks of him. The bigger cities were scary and Marc didn't want to venture out into them much. He also wouldn't get much work thanks to his looks. He supposed he could hire himself out doing the same things he did for Peyton's own home but, again, that just left him open to a lot of chances that something might go wrong. There weren't an awful lot of ways he could legitimately contribute household funds. He gave a small sigh at Peyton's next words. "I know. Believe me." It was the one thing that gave him sleepless nights.

Marc kept his eyes closed but he shrugged his shoulders a little bit at Peyton's words. He would like someone to spend time with, too, but the fact of the matter was that it was risky. If you started to get close to someone, you trusted them. If you trusted them, you opened up. There weren't a lot of people who would be okay with finding out that two men were living together in the way that a husband and wife might. It wouldn't take too much to find out, either. A slipped word. A photograph, maybe. The fact that the fake bed that was made up for Marc in a side room looked exactly as if it had never been used at all. It wouldn't take much but one observant person. And, really, the only people that he knew that he would get along with and who might be okay with it weren't here anymore... and he wasn't there anymore to ask them. Gabi had moved out to California, of all things trying to be a movie star and James. Well. Things hadn't gone well with James. He was still at large and Marc worried about that, too. What if Peyton had to track James down one day? And Curtis was married and, really, while Curtis would be fine with it he was pretty sure there was no telling that his wife would be and he was a cop now. He couldn't risk his career just to haul himself up to the north and be friends with Marc. "It's not somethin' I see really happening, baby," he said, honestly. As much as he might like it, the fact of the matter was that, right now at least, the choices were make friends and risk what he had with Peyton or keep to himself and keep what he had and that wasn't really a choice at all. He felt his chest squeeze a little at the laugh that rolled off of Peyton and as the older man teased him. "You're just lucky it is," he huffed at the other man as he teased him, as if Marc might actually do something if it hadn't been. "You're lucky you're so handsome."

Marc just continued to stare at Peyton as he spoke, his eyes intently trained on the older man's face. He continued on to confirm that he had been thinking about a dog and that it might help. Marc could see how a dog would make a house perfect. He had always wanted one and he could just imagine the sound of claws ticking on the hardwood floors or a curious nose sniffing at everything. He could imagine seeing something so excited that he was taking it out to hang up laundry or on a walk and it made him excited all over again. "I always wanted a dog," he said, almost shyly. Plus, depending on the dog, he knew he would feel safer. There were some dogs that just looked absolutely menacing even though they were softies. You always read stories and heard tales of dogs that would thrash intruders and throw themselves in front of cars to save their owners. Not that he wanted a dog to be hurt in the least but the amount of loyalty and protection would be helpful in keeping him calm and maybe stopping him from always building up the noises that he heard outside sometimes into being some massive thing. He made a small noise as Peyton leaned in and kissed him again and then said he guessed they were getting a dog. "Really, baby?" Marc couldn't help the excitement that flowed through him. He sat up and he practically crawled into Peyton's lap, facing him. It was a familiar enough position but this time it was all about how excited he was. He reached out to grab Peyton's cheeks again, stroking his fingers over them lightly. "When? What kind of dog?" He paused for a brief moment before he was made suddenly brave by his excitement. "Baby, can we get a cat, too?" He had always wanted a cat as well. Hell, he had wanted any pet. This whole new world had suddenly opened its doors to him right here and he wanted it all - probably too much, too fast, but he couldn't stop himself.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today.
Learn More · Sign-up Now
« Previous Topic · Bonnie & Clyde · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Skin Designed By Sith. Coded By Alora of the Hosted for free by ZetaBoards · Privacy Policy