INTRODUCTION

Emmett Honeycutt was desperately trying to file his pinky nail "just right" when the office door suddenly burst open, startling him.

Before he got a chance to hide the nail file in his desk drawer and compose himself, a young man walked in, his eyes scanning the small room. Emmett watched as the man's eyes settled on the brown sofa and table before moving across to the tall filing drawer next to Emmett. The dying plant on top was once green, but Emmett constantly forgot to water it.

Emmett wanted to be pissed, after all, the man did not knock and caused him to file a little too low, but he couldn't be mad. Not with someone as good looking as this delicious chap in his view.

Dressed in khaki coloured chinos and a checkered blue shirt that matched his eyes perfectly, Emmett assumed the man to be about 20.

Blue eyes locked and smiled. He was a cute one, a little on the short side and petite all round, but very cute nonetheless.

Not Emmett's type really, as he preferred them tall and slightly bigger in build. But he wasn't about to complain. He hadn't gotten laid in five whole days. Being the big nelly bottom that he was, this fact simply amazed him. Where were all the big bad fags? He clenched his butt just thinking about having a ten-inch cock up his ass.

"Ted Schimdt?" the man asked, drawing Emmett out of his erotic thoughts.

Emmett snorted. "Now that's a first!"

The man raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

Emmett sighed and picked up the phone. "Who may I say desires his majesty's company?"

"Justin Taylor."

Emmett wondered what the man wanted. What was this beautiful boy's story? Did he kill someone? Was he a witness to a murder or maybe a suspect? He had the look of innocence, but from his experience working with Ted, Emmett knew those were the ones to look out for.

"What?" Ted asked abruptly.

Emmett was not to be put off. Knowing and working with Ted for years, he was used to his boss' charm. "There's a Mr. Taylor to see you."

"Oh, right. Send him in."

After hanging up, Emmett waved to the closed door. "Right through there."

Emmett's gaze locked onto the man's khaki covered ass. And what an ass it was. Emmett was sorry to see the door close. He shook his head and returned to filing his nail. He'd get the low-down from Teddy later.

"Justin!" Ted stood up to greet the younger man.

Justin allowed Ted to embrace him before pulling away. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Ted."

Ted grinned and indicated a chair for Justin to sit down. There were two seats available, and Justin chose the one closest to him.

"Want some coffee?" Ted offered.

"Oh gawd, no," Justin cringed. "Coffee causes high blood pressure, heart attack and poor sexual performance. Not to mention insomnia."

Ted poured himself a cup before sitting in his chair again, facing Justin. "We're all going to die some time."

Justin smiled. Ted would never change, and that may not be such a bad thing. Although single for the few years Justin had known him, Ted was happy... in Justin's mind anyway.

Justin was only 22, but he liked being around the 54-year-old Theodore Schmidt. The Police Inspector was wise, in his own way, and always quick to lend a helping hand.

He looked around the little office. Ted's desk occupied a large portion, all the papers on it neatly stacked on top of each other. Although the room was not overly large, there was still enough room for a television set and a bookshelf. The contents looked to be ancient hardcover books. Probably old textbooks, Justin thought.

On the wall, there were several pictures - Ted receiving several medals, smiling happily into the camera. And there was a huge one, just behind his seat, of Ted and the Minister of National Security.

"So what can I do for you?" Ted asked.

Justin took a deep breath. "I need your help."

Ted nodded, urging him to continue.

"All that time I spent in Europe was a waste."

"Your mom told me you were having a good time and exploring lots of museums," Ted contradicted.

Justin lowered his eyes. "I may have made some bad decisions."

Ted sighed. "We all do, Justin."

Justin looked up, his blue eyes locked onto kind brown ones. "I quit Art school because...I've come to a conclusion, Ted."

"Yes?"

"I want to work with you."

Ted leaned back into his chair, his eyebrows furrowing close together. He was unprepared for what Justin had just dropped into his lap.

Justin saw the confusion and quickly blurted out, "You told me you'd help me. Remember?"

Ted shrugged. He said a lot of things to a lot of people. No one ever really took him seriously. Especially Justin! Ted remembered the bored looks he'd get from the blonde at the fancy dinners at the Taylor residence. Granted, Justin was about 17 then, and didn't care much for his parents' friends.

"Ted, please," Justin begged. "I want to try my hand at it, explore my options. I just feel I'm not good at anything...but art."

Ted squeezed the arm of his chair, white knuckles tense. "This... it isn't just something you can decide to do overnight! It takes a lot of hard work and training! Do you have ANY idea how long it took me to get to where I am now?"

Justin bit his lip, lowered his eyes and sighed.

"Justin, does your mother know about this?"

Justin sighed again. "Yes. She thinks I'm on drugs."

"So do I!" Ted said. "I don't get where you're coming from. What happened to the artist who-"

"He got bored and died," Justin muttered. "Listen, you promised me that you'd help me. I'm not looking at the whole policing side. I want to be a detective. Solve crimes, stalk people and see some real blood for a change. Do something exciting! What do you say? There must be someone who can help me?"

Ted closed his eyes wearily and raced a hand through his dark hair.
And then it came to him.

"Alright," he said, defeated as he stood up.

"Alright?" Justin stood up excitedly. "You mean you're going to help me?"

He was going to help him all right. Or rather, his friend would. He'd make sure Justin realized how crazy his decision was... and put his ass on the first plane back to Paris!

Michael wasn't sure how long he stood there staring at Brian, but he couldn't help it. His boss was the hottest man alive.

Dressed in a dark grey suit, Brian Kinney was bent over his desk busy with paperwork. The sunlight coming through the windows made his chesnut hair seem a lot lighter than it really was.
His office was huge. Brian loved to pace and his long legs demanded a lot of extra room. His * "little grey cells" worked better when he was up and about. The corner window was a glass one and covered with wooden blinds that kept the light out at times. Light sometimes bothered his boss, gave him headaches.

Brian strived on neatness. His mahagony brown desk had only a small lamp and whatever paperwork he was currently working on. The shelves behind him were huge and matched everything else in the room - the dark chocolate leather sofa, the coffee table and the hardwood floor. No plants though. Plants scared Brian.

He had a huge bar though. It blended in with the corner wall opposite the window. Red wine, Brian insisted, was necessary for the thinking process. Bourbon, Scotch, Whiskey; they were all imperative for private investigators. Or maybe just Brian Kinney?

Brian had a girl come in once a week to clean up, but there really wasn't much to do. He was obsessed with being neat and tidy.

Michael sighed inwardly.

"Are you going to stand there all day, Mikey, or was there something you wanted?" Brian asked nonchalantly, not bothering to look up as he continued writing.

Michael's face turned bright red. "Uhm... uhm... I just wanted to tell you a Mrs. Deveraux called. She'll be here at 4."

Brian looked at his watch quickly. "Alright."

As soon as Michael shut the door, he came face to face with Ted and Justin.

"Ted!" he shouted. "You scared me."

Ted smiled. "That was not my intention, I assure you."

Michael smiled slightly as he leaned against Brian's office door. Why was Ted always flirting with him? Michael often wondered. After all, he must have realized Mikey's heart was already spoken for. How could anyone be around Brian and NOT fall in love?

The door to Brian's office opened suddenly, causing Michael to fall back, and into Brian's arms.

"What the fuck?" Brian muttered. He pushed Michael back up and finally noticed Ted. "Theodore Schimdt. What the fuck brings you around to these rough parts?"

Ted grinned. "Careful Kinney, or I'll be forced to think you don't care for me anymore."

Brian snorted. "Well, out with it. What are you doing here? Need some help cracking some shit-filled case?"

Ted pointed to Justin, who had gone un-noticed during their exchange. "Brian, I'd like you to meet Justin."

Brian's gaze settled on Justin. Being in the business for as long as he was, hiding emotions was a piece of cake for him. But he was rattled. Oh yeah. And by a twink too. Fuck that shit!

"Who the fuck is he?" Brian asked Ted.

"HE is a friend of Ted's," Justin said, the annoyance obvious in his voice. "Ted, why are we here? This guy's a total asshole."

Ted grinned. Justin wouldn't last a day with Brian. This was going to be as easy as pie.

Brian glared at Ted. "You bring this twink in my place of business to insult me?"

"Twink?" Justin's eyes narrowed. "Did you just fucking call me a twink?"

"I do believe I did," Brian snickered. He was enjoying riling up the boy. It was turning him on, seeing the blue eyes flashing hotly. He wondered if they got that way when he was turned on.

Justin rolled his eyes heavenward. He refused to let Brian bait him. As good looking as he was, Brian was an asshole. And Justin hated him already. "Well, I'd rather be a twink than an old man, OLD MAN."

Brian quickly lost his smug grin.

Ted flinched. Michael slowly ducked out. They both knew how sensitive Brian was about his age, even though he was only 29.

"Kinney-" Ted started.

"This one requires an explanation," Brian told Ted, his gaze never leaving Justin's smug face. "And it had better be a good one!"

"So let me get this straight. You want me to take that rude little shit under my wing?" Brian asked, the expression on his face showing his amusement.

He and Ted were seated in his office, while Michael kept Justin company in the waiting area.

Ted shook his head. "No! Just humour him for a little while. I don't want him in this business, Brian."

Brian leaned forward on his desk, picking up a cigarette from its silver case. "If the boy wants to play Columbo, who the fuck cares? Let him."

Ted stood up. "No. This is too dangerous for him."

"He's a big boy," Brian put the cigarette to his lips and eyed Ted as he flicked the lighter.

"He's like a son to me," Ted said. "I won't let anything happen to him."

Brian took a long drag before grinning. "Oh, don't worry. I won't let anything happen to him."

At Ted's annoyed look, Brian grinned and curled his little finger, "Pinkie swear."

"You're kidding me, right?" Justin asked. "HE is going to teach me the ropes?"

Brian gave him a glare. "Don't be a fucking annoying brat, Brat."

Justin felt like sticking his tongue out at him. When last had he felt so juvenile? Sheesh...

Ted grinned. "I'll leave you two to get better acquainted."

Justin stopped him. "Thanks for helping me out, Ted. I really appreciate it."

Ted hugged him. "Call me if you need anything."

Michael narrowed his eyes as he came up behind Ted. "What's going on?"

Brian put an arm around Justin's shoulders. "Mikey, meet Justin. He's my new partner."

"Sit," Brian plopped down in the chair in his office and waved Justin to sit. "Talk."

"Are you always this chatty?' Justin muttered. He was nervous, having to sit opposite this man as he scrutinized him.

Brian stood up to pour himself a drink. "Want one?" He needed one, that was for sure. Justin probably wasn't even aware of the effect he was having on him, but Brian knew... and his cock knew too.

"I don't drink," Justin said primly. "Alcohol is bad for you. It'll kill you."

Brian's back was facing him so he didn't see the amused look on Brian's face. He poured himself a bourbon and got settled again.

Justin stared at him, waiting.

Brian took a sip and started massaging his neck with one hand. His neck was killing him.

"So tell me, Justin," Brian said. "Why do you want to get involved in this business?"

Justin bit his lip. "It's always interested me."

"Has it really?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"I don't know. The excitement... intrigue."

Brian wanted to laugh, but he contained himself.

"How old are you?"

"How old do I look?"

"Ten."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Twenty."

"Twenty-three."

Brian raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Justin snorted.

"Alright, twenty-two."

"Don't ever lie to me. I always know."

"I guess this comes naturally to you, huh?"

"Yeah. Did you like Europe?"

The change in conversation didn't faze Justin.

"I loved it."

"So why come back?"

"Ok, I hated it."

"Why?"

"I just did alright! I don't want to talk about it."

Brian stared at him for a long time. Justin was an open book, his eyes showing each and every emotion. He was happy for a time but then something happened. Did he fall in love? Possibly. But he got hurt... and ran away.

Brian wouldn't push it. The kid would tell him eventually, when he was ready...when he trusted him enough.

"What about your art?"

"What about it?"

"Are you just going to give up on it?"

"Yes. No. Oh fuck! What the fuck is this? Twenty fucking questions?"

"What a filthy little mouth you have."

"Thanks."

"Don't be smart, little boy. I just want to know about you."

"Why?"

"Don't you want to know me?"

"Not particularly. No."

Brian tried not to be annoyed but he was. Stupid kid.

"We got off on the wrong foot. Let's start on a clean slate."

"Sure, whatever."

"Are you good at anything?"

"I can draw."

"Can you shoot a gun?"

"Can you teach me?"

"Are you quiet?"

"If I have to be."

"Are you willing to do anything I tell you without questioning why?"

"It depends."

"Wrong answer. What does it depend on?"

"What you want me to do. I'm not up for sucking anyone's dick as part of the job."

"Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type."

"I'm not?"

"Too young."

"Is that going to be a problem? This age thing?"

"I don't see why-"

"Good."

Brian grinned. This kid was amazing.

"So where's my office?"

"Your what?"

"Where do I sit?"

"That chair not comfortable enough for you?"

"You're kidding right?"

"No."

"Why can't I get my own desk and chair?"

"What for?"

Justin glared.

The buzzer went off and Mikey announced, "Mrs. Deveraux to see you, Sir."

"Give me a minute then send her in," Brian told him.

He made Justin drag his chair next to him.

"Don't say anything," Brian warned him. "Just listen and watch me. Ok?"

Justin nodded.

"Are you nervous?" Brian asked.

Justin shook his head. He couldn't say a word, he was bursting inside. His first case!

Brian sighed inwardly. This kid was going to drive him crazy.

The brass doorknob turned.

"Here goes nothing!"

NOTE:
*"little grey cells" - Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot was famous for using this expression. I'm just borrowing it!!!

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