❛ Do I Wanna Know ❜
★ ₊˚. ❪ late ❫
denny ┊3.11┊❝ 001 ❞
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DENIS RUSSEL, AKA DENNY, was scrambling to get out of the blankets he was wrapped in. They were tangled in his legs, a corner tucked under him, half was under the man beside him and twisted in the gap between them.

He had gone home with someone last night, a man from the bar, and things had been great. They had spent hours exploring the empty home, every counter, every shower, even the sofa and bathtub before they made it to the bed.

They had been up so late, that when they finally fell asleep, the alarms both had set were nothing compared to John's snoring and Denny's dream that adapted to the alarm so he never realized.

Roll Call, on his first day, was an hour away and he smelt like sex. He couldn't roll up and pretend everything was normal when he smelt like that and looked like it too. His hair was tussled and his lips looked just a little swollen from all the kisses. His chest had a few marks here and there from the little love bites — but those would be easy to hide under his uniform.

"Fuck." Denny mutters as he finally rolls from the bed, landing on his side, and scrambling upwards. He has everything he needs, well somewhat, and everything else is hanging in his locker at the police station. He glances towards John, who's still sleeping, one arm stretched above him and the other across his bare chest.

Denny needs to wash the smell from his body, and he doesn't even think twice about heading towards the master bathroom and turning the shower on. He digs around in the drawers first, finding a packaged toothbrush that he quickly unpacks. He uses Johns toothpaste, and sticks the toothbrush in his mouth as he steps into the shower.

He scrunches his eyes at the taste, bubblegum mint, and he wonders what kind of psychopath uses that kind of tooth paste. Who in the world came up with that idea, and why was John using it.

He doesn't even take into consideration that John could wake up — that he would join him. That he'd want more, or scream at him to leave. He wasn't sure.

The water washes everything from his body, and the pressure feels so nice. It's the perfect temperature. He's messily brushing his teeth, foam dribbling down his chin. Mentally, he's calculating how much time he has before he has to be at the station. His car is parked outside, smart enough to realize that John had been given a ride to the bar ahead of time so his truck was home, and Denny was the least drunk out of the two and was just below the legal limit.

It was after they got home that drinking half their body weight was done. Shot after shot, a whole bottle of whisky shared between them as they made out too.

God. Denny felt like a horny teenager who's so inexperienced but went at it like a feral rabbit. He wouldn't regret it though, he had such a great time with John, that he would have gone back for seconds if he hadn't slept in.

The shower flicks off and Denny steps out, leaving the toothbrush on the side of the sink. He wraps a towel around his waist and heads back into the bedroom, where John is still sleeping softly.

It's his first day as a cop; and he's already stealing clothes. He's digging through John's dresser drawers and pulling out a t-shirt and jeans. Oddly enough the shirt he pulls out is some starwars shirt that looks like John has had since he was a teenager; the ends are fraying and the design is scratchy. The jeans are ripped at the knees and there's a hole on the right back pocket — Denny is wondering who would even keep those.

He rummages through his disregard clothes, covered in spilt drinks and sweat, pulling his boxers and socks out.

He gets dressed in the corner of the room, carefully, and making sure that he doesn't make any loud noises that would wake John up. Once dressed, he piles his dirty clothes into his arms, scoops his keys into his palm, and leaves.

The door shuts loudly behind him. "Fuck me." He scatters down the driveway and towards his little car. He pretends not to notice that people are staring as he gets into his car.

He throws his clothes into the backseat, starts the car, and drives away — without realizing his phone is sitting on John's charger.

Traffics is horrible, he pushing it. By time he reaches the station he's got ten minutes to change and hit the roll call room.

He weaves through the people standing around and enters the men's locker room. There's a few stragglers who are still getting ready, lazily buttoning up their uniforms and fixing their belts. Denny is hiking up his dress pants, doing up his belt until he knows they for sure won't fall down when he's running. He changes his top and into his uniform, fixing his badge on its designated spot.

Stepping out of the locker room, he heads towards the room where roll call is. He sits beside Penny, who's already waiting for him to question why he's so late. Two other rookies sit on the other side of Penny, and they chatter amongst themselves.

"Alright, let's begin." The watch commander, Officer Grey, stands in front of the room behind the small podium. Everyone around is waiting for him to continue, but he's too busy scanning the room. "Where's Nolan."

"I'm here!" John Nolan steps into the roll call room and Denny looks over his shoulder at the man who he slept with last night. "Sorry,"

Oh fuck. Denny is ready to crawl into a hole and never come back out, because what are the ever lasting fucking odds. He can't even wrap his head around it.