Kelly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gonerunningaway) wrote2012-08-30 05:32 am
gonerunningaway) wrote2012-08-30 05:32 am
Entry tags:
- canon-compliant,
- character: captain oliver queenan,
- character: mrs. elizabeth queenan,
- character: original female character,
- character: patrick queenan,
- character: robert messer,
- character: sean dignam,
- fandom: the departed,
- for: a big bang,
- pairing: capt. queenan/mrs. queenan,
- pairing: sean dignam/robert messer,
- rating: nc-17,
- setting: pre-canon,
- type: fic: chaptered fic
Tide-Water Dogs, Chapter Twenty-Six
Title: Tide-Water Dogs, Chapter Twenty-Six
Fandom: The Departed
Rating: NC-17
Word Count (this chapter): 4,122
Warnings this chapter (highlight to view): Explicit sex.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sean picks up the small U-Haul, just long enough for the mattress, at nine on Saturday morning. He takes the T there so he doesn’t have to ask Robert to drive; he’s already getting Robert to pick Patrick up while he finishes taping up the last few boxes.
He parks the truck angled across two spaces in the lot so it isn’t sticking out; let the neighbors bitch. Inside, he stops just long enough to grab his mail. He’ll be coming back to check it until his lease is up, even though mail forwarding is set to start Monday, in case the post office fucks up. He has to sell the dining room furniture and the recliner still, anyway. He shuffles through as he climbs the stairs; bill, junk, magazine he never ordered, something for Apartment 12 that he’ll have to leave downstairs, and then he stops shuffling, because in still-familiar script, the upper left corner says ‘Carrie Dignam’.
Dignam.
She left the bastard.
Sean can’t help the grin spreading over his face.
Upstairs, he tosses the rest of the mail on the counter and drops down at the kitchen table, tearing open the envelope. It’s two pages of stationary, written on one side each in rollerball pen that bleeds through to the backs.
Under, she wrote her address and phone number, the same as he did, and he has to stop himself from picking up the phone. He has a little packing to do still, and he has to move everything; if he calls her, they’ll be on the phone too long to make all the moving shit happen in just a few hours.
Instead, he puts the letter back in its envelope, folds it in half, and sticks it in his pocket. He’ll call her after he and Robert get home from the Queenans’.
He rips open the credit card bill, skims it, and gets up to hunt down his checkbook so it can be done with. He can drop it off on the way to the Queenans’ after the truck is returned. Check written and envelope sealed, he sticks it in his other pocket and files the stub. Since he’s there, he wraps the filing cabinet in saran wrap. The trash gets tossed; he leaves the other person’s mail on the table.
By the time Robert and Patrick show up, he has everything boxed and is taping the last few boxes shut. He glances up to catch Patrick surveying things; then he announces, “I am so glad we never moved. This looks hellish.”
“I hope you don’t say that around your mother.”
“Mom’s okay with ‘hell’ and ‘damn’. Where do we start?”
“Let’s get the mattress,” Robert suggests, and the two of them head into the bedroom.
Sean joins them as soon as the last box is taped shut. “You’re going to have to move when you go to college, kid.”
Robert makes some suggestions once they get the mattress and box spring down to the truck. They’ll probably be for the best. Sean’s moved less, and Patrick’s never moved. His ideas are efficient and will probably keep Sean’s shit from getting damaged.
This trip, he remembers the mail that’s not his and grabs it and one of the bookcases. He stops in the lobby just long enough to toss the letter on the ledge under the mailboxes.
The three boxes that go on top of the others are clothes, nothing that’s going to get damaged by sudden braking, and the dishes are in the middle, surrounded by other boxes. The last thing Sean brings down is the small gun safe, which he puts in the trunk of Robert’s car. Patrick hesitates between the vehicles before getting in with Sean.
“Mom’s planning some special supper,” he says.
“She always makes special things.” Sean starts the truck and backs up carefully.
“Really special. She’s celebrating you guys moving in together, I think. She really likes Robert.”
“What about you?” Success. No cars hit. He turns out onto the street.
“What about me?”
“Do you like him?”
“He’s awesome,” he says immediately. “I don’t know who you dated before—”
“Nobody.”
“—but Robert’s really cool, and we talked about college last time you guys were over. He has some good advice. His sister’s in college still, he said.”
“Yeah, she’s sixteen years younger than him. Eight years younger than me.”
Patrick whistles.
“What?”
“That’s a big age difference between you guys.”
“It’s not that bad. It’s not like if you were dating someone eight years older. That would be borderline illegal.”
“I’m seventeen,” he protests.
“I said ‘borderline’, kid. And that’s without considering what your parents and I would do if you were dating a twenty-five-year old.”
Patrick gives him a sly look. “So Robert’s sister is, what, twenty?”
Sean laughs. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Is she hot?”
“She’s Robert’s sister. I wasn’t checking her out.”
“She’s hot,” Patrick declares.
Sean lightly punches him in the shoulder. “She’s three years older than you and lives five hours away. I’m not even introducing you.”
“Aw, c’mon, three years isn’t eight years,” he wheedles.
“You’re getting creepy.”
“I’m joking,” Patrick says, “but I still want to meet his family.”
“Why?” he asks warily.
“They’re going to be sort of in-laws, in a way.” Patrick shrugs. “Mom and Dad want to meet them.”
If they’re talking about family, it’s probably a decent time for full disclosure. “My sister wrote to me,” Sean tells him. “I have to call her.”
“I didn’t even know you have a sister.”
“We had a fight when I was twenty-two and stopped speaking after she threw me out of her house. Hitching a ride to the bus station on Christmas fucking blows, by the way.”
“What was the fight about?”
“I hated her husband,” he says, and leaves it at that.
“So does she know about Robert?” Patrick asks after a moment.
“She just knows I’m dating ‘someone’.”
“Doesn’t know you like guys, huh.”
“Not a goddamn clue.”
“If she loves you, she’ll be cool with it, right?”
Sean just shrugs, and Patrick lets it go. A couple of minutes later, they pull up in front of Robert’s house, where Robert is already parked. Patrick jumps out as soon as the truck is stopped, calling to Robert, “Do you have anything to drink?”
“There’s soda in the fridge. Door’s unlocked,” Robert answers. “Grab me a Sprite.”
Patrick turns back around. “Want anything?”
“Yeah, get me a Coke.”
He nods and heads into the house. Sean gets out of the truck, flipping to the small padlock key on his key ring. “Want a break before we start unloading stuff?” he asks Robert.
“We might as well. Dinner isn’t for hours, and you paid for an all-day rental, right?”
“Minimum they have,” he confirms.
“Break it is.”
They walk together toward the house, and he stops at Robert’s car to ask, “Open the trunk?” When Robert does, he grabs the gun safe.
Robert says, “This is yours too now,” as they start up the walk again.
Sean lets that go and starts, “Queenan was asking.”
“Yeah?”
“Actually, he said Patrick was asking what we call each other.”
Robert doesn’t answer until they’re in the front door; then he says, “I’ve been saying ‘partner’ when you come up. Is that okay?”
“I told him that was probably best.”
Patrick is sipping a Coke and has two other cans of soda out when they get to the kitchen.
Sean asks, “Why were you asking your dad what term to use to refer to Robert in relation to me?”
Patrick gives him a bland look. “‘My sort-of brother’s partner has an MFA from NYU.’ That kind of thing.”
Sean doesn’t bother reacting, just grabs his Coke and pops it open. Robert asks, after a moment, “Sort-of brother?”
“Mom and Dad kind of adopted him.” Patrick shrugs. “And I always wanted an older brother. Sean’s stuck with the job.”
“There are worse younger siblings to have,” Sean says, glancing sidelong at Robert.
“Jenny was…” He shakes his head. “Okay, she kidnapped you, that was unfair of her.”
“She’s not that bad,” he allows. “Patrick was asking if she’s hot.”
The look Robert gives the kid makes Sean glad he hasn’t taken a drink; he’s free to laugh this way.
“I was teasing!”
“My sister is off-limits. You’re too young for her,” Robert says in a tone that brooks no argument.
Patrick, being a teenager, argues anyway. “It’s a three year difference. That’s a lot less than you and Sean.”
“Yeah, but we’re both adults and Sean’s in his late twenties, not late teens.”
Patrick rolls his eyes.
“I got you something,” Robert adds to Sean, who’s mid-drink and so just raises an eyebrow. “One minute.” He steps into the parlor and is back in much less than a minute, handing the something over. “We talked about going to a game, so…”
“How did you know I’m free next Sunday?”
“Because Captain Queenan said you would be no matter what it took if it meant you got to go to a Sox game. Yeah, I called.”
Sean grins. “They better kick the Orioles’ asses.” He kisses Robert swiftly. “Thanks.”
Patrick takes a long swallow and then burps, loud and long, before setting down his can. It clangs against the counter, empty. “If you give me the key, I’ll start bringing things in.”
Sean hands the ring over. “Put things in the parlor. We’ll sort them out once everything’s in.”
“I was going to grab clothes boxes first. Shouldn’t those go in the bedroom?”
“Go for it,” Robert says, and Patrick walks away. Once the front door closes, he says to Sean, “Thank-you sex later?”
Sean smirks. “Move-in sex too.”
“Excellent.”
Once they’ve both finished off their sodas, after Patrick has made a trip in, they head out together. Patrick’s just climbing out of the truck, box propped against his leg as he does, and Robert jumps in to get the other one on top of the others. Sean just takes one of the ones on the floor of the truck.
It takes maybe an hour to get everything in and the bed wrestled up the stairs to the guest room. Then they all survey the pile of boxes and nearby furniture together. Patrick finally says, “I’m helping unpack, huh.”
“We’re not taking you home until some of these boxes are empty,” Sean confirms, “and they’re not doing themselves. You could watch TV, if you don’t want to help.”
“My parents have much more Catholic guilt.” All the same, Patrick grabs one of the bookshelves. “Where?”
“Against the wall,” Sean suggests to Robert, who nods. So Patrick takes down the lower-hanging prints on the furniture-free wall, puts them on the coffee table, and positions the bookshelves.
With three of them, it doesn’t take long to get through the book boxes or to move the furniture; Sean leaves the two of them to handle the dishes while he hangs clothes and takes over the two empty drawers in Robert’s dresser. His dresser too, he guesses.
By the time they have to leave to make it to the Queenans’ before supper, everything except rehanging the art is done. Amazing how well things go when it’s one small apartment being moved into a decent-sized house and not much furniture is brought along. It helps that he doesn’t exactly have mementos.
“We’ll drop off the truck, then on the way to the house, I need to stop at the post office,” Sean says to Robert.
“Fine,” he agrees. “We need to fill the tank, right?”
Sean shrugs. “They don’t charge that much more than stations do. It’s fine. Patrick, ride with Robert. You can just wait in the car while I do the return.”
Patrick shrugs. “Fine with me. You owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”
“It’s your job as my sort-of kid brother,” Sean retorts, and laughs at his look.
They get to the Queenan house just after five-fifteen, and Patrick leads them in. “We’re here,” he calls.
“Sean, Charlie’s in his office. He wants to see you,” Mrs. Queenan says from the kitchen. “Tell him I don’t want shop talk after supper’s on the table.”
“I will,” he promises, and leaves Robert there while he goes to find his boss.
Queenan is in his upstairs office, wearing his glasses and reading through something. Sean knocks on the half-open door before stepping in. “You wanted me?”
“I had a thought about Costello’s mole. Close the door.”
Sean does.
“We need to start tracing the backgrounds of SIU cops from Southie, their family members with any affiliations with Costello, and we’ll narrow it from there.”
Sean’s quiet for a moment, studying Queenan, before he deadpans, “I’m not the rat, Captain.”
Queenan gives him a look. “It may work.”
“It could also be someone he bribed. We’d have to get access to everyone’s bank records. Or maybe families’ medical records and see whose bills were paid by a mysterious benefactor. All kinds of ways Costello could get to somebody, Captain.”
“We’ll start with this way,” Queenan says, and Sean’s not going to argue with a tone like that from him.
“Your wife says no shop talk after she puts supper on the table.”
“I’ll have to listen to her,” he agrees, and they leave the office together.
Sean follows his nose to the dining room, where Mrs. Queenan has an amazing spread. “This looks great.” A whole salmon, rolls, roasted potatoes, asparagus, salad, cut-up melon, segmented oranges, and he can smell a cake.
“It should. Now go get the other two, and we can eat.” As Sean leaves the dining room, she calls, “No more work tonight!”
That’s just fine with Sean, and Queenan seems to agree, going by his expression. A work-free night is always more than welcome.
Sean and Robert leave just after nine with four Tupperware containers of leftovers. At first, it feels like just going back to Robert’s for the night, until he remembers, sharply, he’s going home.
He brushes that aside and says, “My sister wrote back.”
Robert glances at him. “What did she say?”
“She left the bastard.” He can’t help his grin. “And she misses me, wants to talk soon.”
“You’re calling her tonight?”
“Damn straight.”
“Do you want to get your car now?”
It is on the way. Sean pats his pocket. His keys are there. “Yeah, we should. In case.”
“In case,” Robert echoes. “I’m going to have to get used to living with a cop.”
“Yeah, it’s not like living with most people.” Sean shrugs. “There’s already a gun in your house. Difference right there.”
“Our house,” Robert corrects. “It might be my name on the deed, but it’s ours.”
Sean shrugs again, letting how that feels pass. “I’ll call her when I get home. It might be awhile, depending on if she hangs up when I tell her who I’m living with.”
“You think she will?”
“I have no fucking clue. We never really talked about gayness when we talked before.” Enough about that. He’ll find out what she thinks soon enough. “She had another kid, a boy, a few months before she left him. She went back to being a Dignam.”
“Better than being tied to him,” Robert says. “What did she name the boy?”
“Stephen.”
“Two saints and a Shakespearean character,” Robert muses. “It doesn’t seem like she was going for a theme.”
“Jamie, Maria, and Joseph.”
“I didn’t say Claudia was, either.”
“I’m just glad she didn’t name him something like Bartholomew.”
Robert snorts. “Lucky for him.” He pulls into the old apartment lot, right by Sean’s car, and Sean hops out, leaving the containers on the floor.
“See you at home.” It still feels foreign, and he suspects it will for a while, but in a good way.
Robert’s just turning off the car when Sean pulls into the driveway beside him. He waits for Sean to get out, and they walk in together. Sean pulls out the envelope and takes out Carrie’s letter, turning to the second page, and sits on the couch beside the phone, dialing her. Robert disappears down the hall, probably to give him privacy, and then someone picks up.
“Hello?”
“Carrie?”
“Sean! Oh my god, I wasn’t sure you’d call. Hold on one second.” She says something muffled and then comes back. “Ursula’s about to go to bed, but she wants to say hi.”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
A moment later, a much younger voice says, “Uncle Sean?”
“Hey, sweetheart, how are you?”
“I’m good. I miss you. When can we see you?”
“I need to work that out with your mom, but I miss you too, and your sister.”
“And you need to meet Stephen.”
“I do,” he agrees.
“Mom says I have to go to bed. Night. I love you.”
“Good night. I love you too.”
After another moment, Carrie comes back. “So you’re a sergeant now, right?” Her accent is different, and it takes him a second to figure it out. South Boston is now tempered by Southern, and it sounds downright strange.
“Was there any doubt I’d pass?”
“Not in my mind,” she says. “Not with my little brother. Tell me about your someone.”
Sean’s fingers clench around the receiver. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “Well. We just moved in together. His name’s Robert.”
Carrie’s quiet a moment, then says, “I didn’t know you’re gay.”
“I’m not. I’m bi.”
“You still didn’t tell me.” She sounds put out, but not pissed.
“It’s not something I thought about a lot until lately, Carrie. I mean, I did some, but mostly I was focused on women. Are you pissed?”
“I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me,” she whines, “but that’s all. You’re my little brother, and hell, I was in a straight relationship that turned out like shit. Do what makes you happy. Tell me about him.”
He relaxes, his fingers loosening, and starts to. Somehow, their call turns into three hours of catching each other up. She hears about the Queenans; he hears everything about his nieces and nephew and her jobs. They don’t touch his time undercover or her divorce or ex, though.
She yawns finally and says, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just exhausted. God, it got late.”
Sean glances at the VCR clock. “Fuck, it did, didn’t it?”
“Look, call me next weekend. I want to talk about Christmas. I’d really like to see you.”
“Call me Saturday night,” he suggests. “Got a pen?”
“Umm… yeah, go ahead.”
Sean rattles the number off. “Love you, Carrie.”
“Love you too, Sean.” She hangs up, and Sean does after. He sits on the couch for a minute or two, replaying snippets of their conversation, before getting up and walking down the hall.
Robert is on their bed, stripped to his boxers and reading a hardcover book. “Good call?” he asks.
“Great call.” He begins to undress. “Carrie wants to see me at Christmas.”
“My parents were hoping we’d join the family.”
“I think the Queenans sort of wanted us with them.”
“I don’t know about including the Queenans,” Robert says slowly, “but…how would you feel about mixing your sister and her kids with my family?”
Sean finishes pulling off his shirt as he considers that. “It could work.”
“I’ll talk to Mom or Dad when I can and run it by them.”
“Carrie’s calling on Saturday, so make it before that.”
Robert nods. “I will.” He marks his page and sets the book on his nightstand, looking at Sean with hungry eyes. “Coming?”
“Hope so.” Sean sinks onto the bed and kisses Robert deeply. He slides his hand inside the opening of Robert’s boxers, stroking him; he’s still mostly soft. Some combination of Sean’s hand and their hard kisses take care of that in very little time.
Robert rests his hands on Sean’s waist, thumbs rubbing Sean’s hipbones slowly and fingers dipping below the waistband of Sean’s boxers. They stay like that for a while, kissing and touching, Sean just barely stroking Robert’s dick but mostly resting his hand on it. Robert runs his hands up Sean’s back and just scrapes his nails back down. Sean ends up kneeling over Robert’s legs after about half an hour of that, his dick poking out of the opening of his shorts.
“You want to move on?” Robert murmurs.
Sean laughs. “Yeah, I’m ready to.”
Robert smiles and kisses him again, reaching into his nightstand. “Who’s doing what?”
“As long as there are two orgasms, I don’t care.”
Robert snorts.
“It’s thank-you sex. You decide.”
“Come on, get undressed,” Robert decides.
Sean does and while Robert does the same. He gives him an expectant look. “So?”
“Frotting. Get over me.”
Sean lowers himself, and Robert rolls his hips up slowly. His dick rubs against Sean’s, and he lets out this shuddery little sigh. Sean grins and kisses Robert’s throat, pressing his own hips down.
They keep it slow, making it last nearly twenty minutes before they both lose control, picking up their speed until Sean presses a hand between them and grips their dicks, pumping them together until Robert comes first. The feel of him pulsing against Sean’s dick is just the last little bit of stimulation he needs to come too, and he nearly drops down onto Robert, barely catching himself on his elbows.
“Fuck,” he gets out.
“Fuck,” Robert agrees, and twists down to kiss him. “Good.”
“Very good,” Sean agrees. He shifts off onto his side of the bed, kissing Robert again.
“We can do that any night we want,” Robert says. “Or have sex however we want any night we want.”
“Unless I’m working.”
“Fine, bring me down.”
Sean grins. “I live for it.”
“You’re really fun,” Robert mutters, but he’s smiling.
Fandom: The Departed
Rating: NC-17
Word Count (this chapter): 4,122
Warnings this chapter (highlight to view): Explicit sex.
Sean picks up the small U-Haul, just long enough for the mattress, at nine on Saturday morning. He takes the T there so he doesn’t have to ask Robert to drive; he’s already getting Robert to pick Patrick up while he finishes taping up the last few boxes.
He parks the truck angled across two spaces in the lot so it isn’t sticking out; let the neighbors bitch. Inside, he stops just long enough to grab his mail. He’ll be coming back to check it until his lease is up, even though mail forwarding is set to start Monday, in case the post office fucks up. He has to sell the dining room furniture and the recliner still, anyway. He shuffles through as he climbs the stairs; bill, junk, magazine he never ordered, something for Apartment 12 that he’ll have to leave downstairs, and then he stops shuffling, because in still-familiar script, the upper left corner says ‘Carrie Dignam’.
Dignam.
She left the bastard.
Sean can’t help the grin spreading over his face.
Upstairs, he tosses the rest of the mail on the counter and drops down at the kitchen table, tearing open the envelope. It’s two pages of stationary, written on one side each in rollerball pen that bleeds through to the backs.
Dear Sean,
I’ve missed you so much, little brother. I lost your address (actually, Richard threw out the envelopes and cards), and I didn’t know if you’d moved since the last Christmas you sent a card, either, or if you even wanted to hear from me, since you stopped sending cards. And I know you moved since I had your last number, because some stranger answered.
If you saw the return address, you know I left Richard. That was three years ago, when Ursula was nine and Ophelia was seven. My baby, Stephen, was only four months old. I couldn’t take it anymore. Things with him just got too bad. I tried for so long, but he never did. He didn’t give a flying fuck about me. I’m sorry I threw you out. I know you said what you did out of love.
The house, my kids, alimony, and child support are all mine. Thank Christ for a sympathetic judge. I got a job as a receptionist at a doctor’s office almost as soon as I left him, then learned insurance coding and got a raise. I’m doing pretty well for myself and by my kids.
I’m proud of you! I was so happy to see you got to be a trooper. Or should I say sergeant? I’m sure you passed. You always were the smarter of the two of us, college and everything. I’m thinking about going when Stephen’s in elementary school. He just started preschool earlier this month. It saves a little on daycare, but child support pays for both, so it doesn’t matter so much. There are some good community colleges around here.
You’ll have to tell me about your time undercover, whatever you can. I can’t believe I missed a case where you put people away. You didn’t say you did, but I know it. Was it working against Costello? We’re Southie kids, it has to be Costello.
Ursula remembers you. She asks about her Uncle Sean sometimes. She was so excited when I told her you’d written, and she wants to know when she’ll see you again. So do I, for that matter. So, Sean, when can that be? Can you come down for Christmas, or could we come up there? I want to meet your someone. What’s she like?
I want a phone call with you. Weekends are good for me, or after eight on weeknights, but I don’t know about a cop’s schedule, so you should call me as soon as you can. I need to be caught up on your life.
Speaking of life, I don’t know about Mom and Dad either. I never told them about the divorce, even. Of course, you didn’t know until this letter, so maybe that isn’t saying very much.
Call me, Sean. I love you, and I miss you.
Love,
Your big sister,
Carrie
Under, she wrote her address and phone number, the same as he did, and he has to stop himself from picking up the phone. He has a little packing to do still, and he has to move everything; if he calls her, they’ll be on the phone too long to make all the moving shit happen in just a few hours.
Instead, he puts the letter back in its envelope, folds it in half, and sticks it in his pocket. He’ll call her after he and Robert get home from the Queenans’.
He rips open the credit card bill, skims it, and gets up to hunt down his checkbook so it can be done with. He can drop it off on the way to the Queenans’ after the truck is returned. Check written and envelope sealed, he sticks it in his other pocket and files the stub. Since he’s there, he wraps the filing cabinet in saran wrap. The trash gets tossed; he leaves the other person’s mail on the table.
By the time Robert and Patrick show up, he has everything boxed and is taping the last few boxes shut. He glances up to catch Patrick surveying things; then he announces, “I am so glad we never moved. This looks hellish.”
“I hope you don’t say that around your mother.”
“Mom’s okay with ‘hell’ and ‘damn’. Where do we start?”
“Let’s get the mattress,” Robert suggests, and the two of them head into the bedroom.
Sean joins them as soon as the last box is taped shut. “You’re going to have to move when you go to college, kid.”
Robert makes some suggestions once they get the mattress and box spring down to the truck. They’ll probably be for the best. Sean’s moved less, and Patrick’s never moved. His ideas are efficient and will probably keep Sean’s shit from getting damaged.
This trip, he remembers the mail that’s not his and grabs it and one of the bookcases. He stops in the lobby just long enough to toss the letter on the ledge under the mailboxes.
The three boxes that go on top of the others are clothes, nothing that’s going to get damaged by sudden braking, and the dishes are in the middle, surrounded by other boxes. The last thing Sean brings down is the small gun safe, which he puts in the trunk of Robert’s car. Patrick hesitates between the vehicles before getting in with Sean.
“Mom’s planning some special supper,” he says.
“She always makes special things.” Sean starts the truck and backs up carefully.
“Really special. She’s celebrating you guys moving in together, I think. She really likes Robert.”
“What about you?” Success. No cars hit. He turns out onto the street.
“What about me?”
“Do you like him?”
“He’s awesome,” he says immediately. “I don’t know who you dated before—”
“Nobody.”
“—but Robert’s really cool, and we talked about college last time you guys were over. He has some good advice. His sister’s in college still, he said.”
“Yeah, she’s sixteen years younger than him. Eight years younger than me.”
Patrick whistles.
“What?”
“That’s a big age difference between you guys.”
“It’s not that bad. It’s not like if you were dating someone eight years older. That would be borderline illegal.”
“I’m seventeen,” he protests.
“I said ‘borderline’, kid. And that’s without considering what your parents and I would do if you were dating a twenty-five-year old.”
Patrick gives him a sly look. “So Robert’s sister is, what, twenty?”
Sean laughs. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Is she hot?”
“She’s Robert’s sister. I wasn’t checking her out.”
“She’s hot,” Patrick declares.
Sean lightly punches him in the shoulder. “She’s three years older than you and lives five hours away. I’m not even introducing you.”
“Aw, c’mon, three years isn’t eight years,” he wheedles.
“You’re getting creepy.”
“I’m joking,” Patrick says, “but I still want to meet his family.”
“Why?” he asks warily.
“They’re going to be sort of in-laws, in a way.” Patrick shrugs. “Mom and Dad want to meet them.”
If they’re talking about family, it’s probably a decent time for full disclosure. “My sister wrote to me,” Sean tells him. “I have to call her.”
“I didn’t even know you have a sister.”
“We had a fight when I was twenty-two and stopped speaking after she threw me out of her house. Hitching a ride to the bus station on Christmas fucking blows, by the way.”
“What was the fight about?”
“I hated her husband,” he says, and leaves it at that.
“So does she know about Robert?” Patrick asks after a moment.
“She just knows I’m dating ‘someone’.”
“Doesn’t know you like guys, huh.”
“Not a goddamn clue.”
“If she loves you, she’ll be cool with it, right?”
Sean just shrugs, and Patrick lets it go. A couple of minutes later, they pull up in front of Robert’s house, where Robert is already parked. Patrick jumps out as soon as the truck is stopped, calling to Robert, “Do you have anything to drink?”
“There’s soda in the fridge. Door’s unlocked,” Robert answers. “Grab me a Sprite.”
Patrick turns back around. “Want anything?”
“Yeah, get me a Coke.”
He nods and heads into the house. Sean gets out of the truck, flipping to the small padlock key on his key ring. “Want a break before we start unloading stuff?” he asks Robert.
“We might as well. Dinner isn’t for hours, and you paid for an all-day rental, right?”
“Minimum they have,” he confirms.
“Break it is.”
They walk together toward the house, and he stops at Robert’s car to ask, “Open the trunk?” When Robert does, he grabs the gun safe.
Robert says, “This is yours too now,” as they start up the walk again.
Sean lets that go and starts, “Queenan was asking.”
“Yeah?”
“Actually, he said Patrick was asking what we call each other.”
Robert doesn’t answer until they’re in the front door; then he says, “I’ve been saying ‘partner’ when you come up. Is that okay?”
“I told him that was probably best.”
Patrick is sipping a Coke and has two other cans of soda out when they get to the kitchen.
Sean asks, “Why were you asking your dad what term to use to refer to Robert in relation to me?”
Patrick gives him a bland look. “‘My sort-of brother’s partner has an MFA from NYU.’ That kind of thing.”
Sean doesn’t bother reacting, just grabs his Coke and pops it open. Robert asks, after a moment, “Sort-of brother?”
“Mom and Dad kind of adopted him.” Patrick shrugs. “And I always wanted an older brother. Sean’s stuck with the job.”
“There are worse younger siblings to have,” Sean says, glancing sidelong at Robert.
“Jenny was…” He shakes his head. “Okay, she kidnapped you, that was unfair of her.”
“She’s not that bad,” he allows. “Patrick was asking if she’s hot.”
The look Robert gives the kid makes Sean glad he hasn’t taken a drink; he’s free to laugh this way.
“I was teasing!”
“My sister is off-limits. You’re too young for her,” Robert says in a tone that brooks no argument.
Patrick, being a teenager, argues anyway. “It’s a three year difference. That’s a lot less than you and Sean.”
“Yeah, but we’re both adults and Sean’s in his late twenties, not late teens.”
Patrick rolls his eyes.
“I got you something,” Robert adds to Sean, who’s mid-drink and so just raises an eyebrow. “One minute.” He steps into the parlor and is back in much less than a minute, handing the something over. “We talked about going to a game, so…”
“How did you know I’m free next Sunday?”
“Because Captain Queenan said you would be no matter what it took if it meant you got to go to a Sox game. Yeah, I called.”
Sean grins. “They better kick the Orioles’ asses.” He kisses Robert swiftly. “Thanks.”
Patrick takes a long swallow and then burps, loud and long, before setting down his can. It clangs against the counter, empty. “If you give me the key, I’ll start bringing things in.”
Sean hands the ring over. “Put things in the parlor. We’ll sort them out once everything’s in.”
“I was going to grab clothes boxes first. Shouldn’t those go in the bedroom?”
“Go for it,” Robert says, and Patrick walks away. Once the front door closes, he says to Sean, “Thank-you sex later?”
Sean smirks. “Move-in sex too.”
“Excellent.”
Once they’ve both finished off their sodas, after Patrick has made a trip in, they head out together. Patrick’s just climbing out of the truck, box propped against his leg as he does, and Robert jumps in to get the other one on top of the others. Sean just takes one of the ones on the floor of the truck.
It takes maybe an hour to get everything in and the bed wrestled up the stairs to the guest room. Then they all survey the pile of boxes and nearby furniture together. Patrick finally says, “I’m helping unpack, huh.”
“We’re not taking you home until some of these boxes are empty,” Sean confirms, “and they’re not doing themselves. You could watch TV, if you don’t want to help.”
“My parents have much more Catholic guilt.” All the same, Patrick grabs one of the bookshelves. “Where?”
“Against the wall,” Sean suggests to Robert, who nods. So Patrick takes down the lower-hanging prints on the furniture-free wall, puts them on the coffee table, and positions the bookshelves.
With three of them, it doesn’t take long to get through the book boxes or to move the furniture; Sean leaves the two of them to handle the dishes while he hangs clothes and takes over the two empty drawers in Robert’s dresser. His dresser too, he guesses.
By the time they have to leave to make it to the Queenans’ before supper, everything except rehanging the art is done. Amazing how well things go when it’s one small apartment being moved into a decent-sized house and not much furniture is brought along. It helps that he doesn’t exactly have mementos.
“We’ll drop off the truck, then on the way to the house, I need to stop at the post office,” Sean says to Robert.
“Fine,” he agrees. “We need to fill the tank, right?”
Sean shrugs. “They don’t charge that much more than stations do. It’s fine. Patrick, ride with Robert. You can just wait in the car while I do the return.”
Patrick shrugs. “Fine with me. You owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”
“It’s your job as my sort-of kid brother,” Sean retorts, and laughs at his look.
They get to the Queenan house just after five-fifteen, and Patrick leads them in. “We’re here,” he calls.
“Sean, Charlie’s in his office. He wants to see you,” Mrs. Queenan says from the kitchen. “Tell him I don’t want shop talk after supper’s on the table.”
“I will,” he promises, and leaves Robert there while he goes to find his boss.
Queenan is in his upstairs office, wearing his glasses and reading through something. Sean knocks on the half-open door before stepping in. “You wanted me?”
“I had a thought about Costello’s mole. Close the door.”
Sean does.
“We need to start tracing the backgrounds of SIU cops from Southie, their family members with any affiliations with Costello, and we’ll narrow it from there.”
Sean’s quiet for a moment, studying Queenan, before he deadpans, “I’m not the rat, Captain.”
Queenan gives him a look. “It may work.”
“It could also be someone he bribed. We’d have to get access to everyone’s bank records. Or maybe families’ medical records and see whose bills were paid by a mysterious benefactor. All kinds of ways Costello could get to somebody, Captain.”
“We’ll start with this way,” Queenan says, and Sean’s not going to argue with a tone like that from him.
“Your wife says no shop talk after she puts supper on the table.”
“I’ll have to listen to her,” he agrees, and they leave the office together.
Sean follows his nose to the dining room, where Mrs. Queenan has an amazing spread. “This looks great.” A whole salmon, rolls, roasted potatoes, asparagus, salad, cut-up melon, segmented oranges, and he can smell a cake.
“It should. Now go get the other two, and we can eat.” As Sean leaves the dining room, she calls, “No more work tonight!”
That’s just fine with Sean, and Queenan seems to agree, going by his expression. A work-free night is always more than welcome.
Sean and Robert leave just after nine with four Tupperware containers of leftovers. At first, it feels like just going back to Robert’s for the night, until he remembers, sharply, he’s going home.
He brushes that aside and says, “My sister wrote back.”
Robert glances at him. “What did she say?”
“She left the bastard.” He can’t help his grin. “And she misses me, wants to talk soon.”
“You’re calling her tonight?”
“Damn straight.”
“Do you want to get your car now?”
It is on the way. Sean pats his pocket. His keys are there. “Yeah, we should. In case.”
“In case,” Robert echoes. “I’m going to have to get used to living with a cop.”
“Yeah, it’s not like living with most people.” Sean shrugs. “There’s already a gun in your house. Difference right there.”
“Our house,” Robert corrects. “It might be my name on the deed, but it’s ours.”
Sean shrugs again, letting how that feels pass. “I’ll call her when I get home. It might be awhile, depending on if she hangs up when I tell her who I’m living with.”
“You think she will?”
“I have no fucking clue. We never really talked about gayness when we talked before.” Enough about that. He’ll find out what she thinks soon enough. “She had another kid, a boy, a few months before she left him. She went back to being a Dignam.”
“Better than being tied to him,” Robert says. “What did she name the boy?”
“Stephen.”
“Two saints and a Shakespearean character,” Robert muses. “It doesn’t seem like she was going for a theme.”
“Jamie, Maria, and Joseph.”
“I didn’t say Claudia was, either.”
“I’m just glad she didn’t name him something like Bartholomew.”
Robert snorts. “Lucky for him.” He pulls into the old apartment lot, right by Sean’s car, and Sean hops out, leaving the containers on the floor.
“See you at home.” It still feels foreign, and he suspects it will for a while, but in a good way.
Robert’s just turning off the car when Sean pulls into the driveway beside him. He waits for Sean to get out, and they walk in together. Sean pulls out the envelope and takes out Carrie’s letter, turning to the second page, and sits on the couch beside the phone, dialing her. Robert disappears down the hall, probably to give him privacy, and then someone picks up.
“Hello?”
“Carrie?”
“Sean! Oh my god, I wasn’t sure you’d call. Hold on one second.” She says something muffled and then comes back. “Ursula’s about to go to bed, but she wants to say hi.”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
A moment later, a much younger voice says, “Uncle Sean?”
“Hey, sweetheart, how are you?”
“I’m good. I miss you. When can we see you?”
“I need to work that out with your mom, but I miss you too, and your sister.”
“And you need to meet Stephen.”
“I do,” he agrees.
“Mom says I have to go to bed. Night. I love you.”
“Good night. I love you too.”
After another moment, Carrie comes back. “So you’re a sergeant now, right?” Her accent is different, and it takes him a second to figure it out. South Boston is now tempered by Southern, and it sounds downright strange.
“Was there any doubt I’d pass?”
“Not in my mind,” she says. “Not with my little brother. Tell me about your someone.”
Sean’s fingers clench around the receiver. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “Well. We just moved in together. His name’s Robert.”
Carrie’s quiet a moment, then says, “I didn’t know you’re gay.”
“I’m not. I’m bi.”
“You still didn’t tell me.” She sounds put out, but not pissed.
“It’s not something I thought about a lot until lately, Carrie. I mean, I did some, but mostly I was focused on women. Are you pissed?”
“I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me,” she whines, “but that’s all. You’re my little brother, and hell, I was in a straight relationship that turned out like shit. Do what makes you happy. Tell me about him.”
He relaxes, his fingers loosening, and starts to. Somehow, their call turns into three hours of catching each other up. She hears about the Queenans; he hears everything about his nieces and nephew and her jobs. They don’t touch his time undercover or her divorce or ex, though.
She yawns finally and says, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just exhausted. God, it got late.”
Sean glances at the VCR clock. “Fuck, it did, didn’t it?”
“Look, call me next weekend. I want to talk about Christmas. I’d really like to see you.”
“Call me Saturday night,” he suggests. “Got a pen?”
“Umm… yeah, go ahead.”
Sean rattles the number off. “Love you, Carrie.”
“Love you too, Sean.” She hangs up, and Sean does after. He sits on the couch for a minute or two, replaying snippets of their conversation, before getting up and walking down the hall.
Robert is on their bed, stripped to his boxers and reading a hardcover book. “Good call?” he asks.
“Great call.” He begins to undress. “Carrie wants to see me at Christmas.”
“My parents were hoping we’d join the family.”
“I think the Queenans sort of wanted us with them.”
“I don’t know about including the Queenans,” Robert says slowly, “but…how would you feel about mixing your sister and her kids with my family?”
Sean finishes pulling off his shirt as he considers that. “It could work.”
“I’ll talk to Mom or Dad when I can and run it by them.”
“Carrie’s calling on Saturday, so make it before that.”
Robert nods. “I will.” He marks his page and sets the book on his nightstand, looking at Sean with hungry eyes. “Coming?”
“Hope so.” Sean sinks onto the bed and kisses Robert deeply. He slides his hand inside the opening of Robert’s boxers, stroking him; he’s still mostly soft. Some combination of Sean’s hand and their hard kisses take care of that in very little time.
Robert rests his hands on Sean’s waist, thumbs rubbing Sean’s hipbones slowly and fingers dipping below the waistband of Sean’s boxers. They stay like that for a while, kissing and touching, Sean just barely stroking Robert’s dick but mostly resting his hand on it. Robert runs his hands up Sean’s back and just scrapes his nails back down. Sean ends up kneeling over Robert’s legs after about half an hour of that, his dick poking out of the opening of his shorts.
“You want to move on?” Robert murmurs.
Sean laughs. “Yeah, I’m ready to.”
Robert smiles and kisses him again, reaching into his nightstand. “Who’s doing what?”
“As long as there are two orgasms, I don’t care.”
Robert snorts.
“It’s thank-you sex. You decide.”
“Come on, get undressed,” Robert decides.
Sean does and while Robert does the same. He gives him an expectant look. “So?”
“Frotting. Get over me.”
Sean lowers himself, and Robert rolls his hips up slowly. His dick rubs against Sean’s, and he lets out this shuddery little sigh. Sean grins and kisses Robert’s throat, pressing his own hips down.
They keep it slow, making it last nearly twenty minutes before they both lose control, picking up their speed until Sean presses a hand between them and grips their dicks, pumping them together until Robert comes first. The feel of him pulsing against Sean’s dick is just the last little bit of stimulation he needs to come too, and he nearly drops down onto Robert, barely catching himself on his elbows.
“Fuck,” he gets out.
“Fuck,” Robert agrees, and twists down to kiss him. “Good.”
“Very good,” Sean agrees. He shifts off onto his side of the bed, kissing Robert again.
“We can do that any night we want,” Robert says. “Or have sex however we want any night we want.”
“Unless I’m working.”
“Fine, bring me down.”
Sean grins. “I live for it.”
“You’re really fun,” Robert mutters, but he’s smiling.