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Chapter Three

Taz

The smell of computers was a distinct one. Computers, plural. Machines pushed to their limit and then some came with a more potent aroma that was one of the greatest balms for Taz’ soul. He needed to find a way to distill the essence of computer smell so he could inject that shit straight into his veins. Maybe then, he could get his fix without pissing off his caveman boyfriend. Without conscious awareness of his actions, he lifted his arm and rubbed the baggy sleeve of a sweatshirt belonging to the aforementioned caveman against the slope of his cheek. Soft, well-worn, and laced with his second favorite scent in the world—Luke.

Taz’ eyes pinged back and forth between the monitors on the wall, his focus growing sharper as the lines of text continued to fill the screens. The rattle of the keys beneath his fingertips was loud enough to be heard over the music playing through the over-ear headphones. He'd need to replace the hardware soon. Again. He went through keyboards like some people went through underwear. Hell, like he did. Luke’s penchant for tearing them had grown substantially over the months. Fucking caveman. A smile twitched at the corner of Taz’ mouth as he leaned forward and isolated a batch of text before pulling it into the adjacent screen. Bingo. He'd found another mouse in his late-night hunt.

Working on borrowed time, also known as unpaid overtime, he muttered to himself about protocols and the chain of evidence. He got a lot of work done off the clock on unauthorized computer systems, but the downside was that he had to jump through a million fucking hoops to make sure anything he found would be legit. He also had to do so in a way that wiped any evidence of his sometimes not-quite-legal paths to discovering said information. What the Feds didn't know wouldn't hurt them. It was a means to an end. Blah-dee-fucking-blah.

The familiar and intensely uncomfortable fingers of anxiety seized Taz’ lungs as he scrutinized the latest message thread he’d unearthed. It was choppy and incomplete, but he’d get them. As smart as the enemy was, they were dumb as rocks when it came to securing their servers. Sometimes, Taz liked to think maybe he was just that smart, but that delusion never lasted more than a few seconds. A couple keystrokes later, he blew through a backdoor of the forum server with a zero-day exploit that would have made him a lot of money on the black market if he were so inclined. Since he didn't want to lose his job or rot away in a jail cell, he only used his ill-begotten knowledge for fighting against enemies of the state. Not because of some ridiculous sense of loyalty or morality, but because those enemies were direct threats to his people.

The full breadth of his discovery had his stomach clenching with unease. Comment after comment, all of them increasingly vile, turned the unease into anger as bile threatened to rise up the back of his throat. More threats against The Bastard, aka Theo, were accentuated by new threats. Surprising ones, if Taz were to be honest with himself. The sick fucks who called this particular hidden forum home had a lot of shit to say about “untraditional families” being the scourge of society. The comments about the “ex-staffer” and his family rankled. The promises of violence, including detailed plans, should he run for office sent a shiver coursing through Taz’ body that he couldn't blame on the AC unit cooling his server rack. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was where things got really screwy when it came to Taz working from home and uncovering something off the clock.

He knew he needed to properly catalogue the information, but his instincts had him weighing the more intense desire to say “fuck the Bureau” and jump straight to warning Caleb about the threats against him, Elias, and Parker. Decision paralysis was a real fucking problem when he was dealing with shit like this. Especially since his gut was telling him to screw the formality and that would directly affect not just his job, but Luke’s as well. Normally one to act first and figure out the rest later, this issue of becoming completely stuck in place was a new symptom he still hadn't figured out how to navigate alone.

He was still stuck in a purgatory of his own making when a touch to his shoulder had him barreling out of the chair in primal terror that was wholly caused by the fucked up shit in his past and not reality. He tore the headphones off and scrambled backwards with his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and mouth. The trembling came swiftly thereafter, even as his wide-eyed gaze recognized his boyfriend's concerned face.

“Fucking hell, Luke! You're supposed to flick the switch!” Taz erratically gestured to the light fixture on the wall over the monitors. It was their failsafe to warn Taz about someone entering his basement lair in their shared home.

“You were supposed to be in bed,” Luke countered, equal parts soothing and sanctioning. He held out his palms and approached slowly, much like someone would approach a wild animal. Taz hated it as much as he appreciated it. “I was coming down to switch the laundry over.”

“Right… shit. Sorry.” Taz’ shoulders fell and all at once, he was moving into the safe pocket of Luke’s embrace.

“No, I'm sorry. I should have known better than to touch you without getting your attention first. What has you so wound up?” Luke’s massive palms spread over Taz’ back beneath the voluminous folds of the oversized sweatshirt and made him feel even more dysfunctional, small, and vulnerable. All that from a simple touch and a calm gentling of his latent trauma-response. The shit part of it was that he still had to come clean and confess his guilt over breaking one of the rules. Again.

“I… it’s… fuck you.” Taz mumbled the words into the warmth of Luke's chest on autopilot before silencing himself, taking a deep breath, and trying again. “Work. Found something. M’sorry, Daddy.”

“Baby, you remember what we agreed on?” Luke’s patience pissed Taz off even more. He wasn't mad at Luke—he was mad at himself. None of that discounted the fact that he definitely had found something and it needed to be handled.

“Sorry. I wasn't tired. I figured I could fuck around for an hour or two, no big deal. It's not a big deal.” Taz’ defensiveness was dulled by his desperate need to cling to his partner's solid strength.

“Timothy, it's one o’clock in the morning. You told me you were going to bed at eight. Correct me if my math is wrong, but that's a lot more than a couple of hours.” Despite the censure in his voice, Luke’s touch remained tender and soothing.

Fuck . “I didn’t… no. That's not right.” Taz' protests died with a shaky exhale as he checked his watch and confirmed the accuracy of Luke’s statement.

“Talk to me, T.”

Hesitation lasted for a whopping three seconds before it all fell out of his mouth in an epic shit show of verbal diarrhea. “I was following up on some leads that I couldn't do at the office. No, I'm not telling you how. Your Neanderthal brain wouldn't understand it anyway. I found some shit. Yes, I'll figure out how to get it on file at work, but first I need you to take me to Caleb's house ‘cause I got some shit to tell him and I can't do it over the phone.

Taz lifted his face and found Luke’s censuring gaze and hard-set jaw. With a roll of his eyes, he begrudgingly exhaled, “Please, Daddy. I need you to take me to Caleb’s, please .”

“Such a fucking brat.” Luke’s hands withdrew from beneath the sweatshirt and rose to cradle Taz’ head. With an audible smooch, he kissed Taz’ forehead. “You're so lucky I love this cute face.”

A breathy snort left Taz’ nose before he could stop himself. “Not cute.”

“The cutest.” Luke held Taz at arm’s length, never loosening his grip from his jaw. “You're going to listen and be a good boy—upstairs, in bed, now. Tomorrow, we’ll pay the Cohen-Williams family a visit. Monday morning, you'll handle work at work .”

Taz’ lips parted to put up a fight, but Luke gave him the Daddy look and he promptly shut his damn mouth.

“You'll listen if you want the surprise I have for you.”

Despite himself, Taz’ curiosity was piqued. “Is it your cock?”

“No.” Luke smirked and drew closer, leaning down to bring his lips to Taz’ ear. “My cock isn't ever a surprise. The present in the closet is your surprise, but you’ve been naughty. Now, you’ll have to wait.”

Taz grumbled dour threats of violence and huffed. Even with all his bitching and moaning, he’d relent. He'd always give in to the man who held his whole entire heart in his very massive palm.

“Fine,” Taz whined, drawing out the word in a way that would have been mortifying if he were in a clearer headspace. Fortunately, he was more than happy to put his adult concerns in Luke’s hands. For now. Just for a little while.

Taz was about as grouchy as he could possibly get sitting in the front seat of Luke’s sedan the following morning. The fucker had made him talk about feelings and rules and details he didn't want to share but ended up spilling anyway. It was manipulation of the highest order, being sprawled out and pinned down, fully at Luke’s mercy, taunted and teased till he folded like a house of cards in a stiff breeze. He loved that fucking man. It was the only reason he didn't do something like gouge his eyes out or cut up all his ties. Taz also recognized how full of shit he was when he mulled those empty threats in his head.

His apprehension built the closer they got to their destination. So much so, he was in rarerified form by the time Luke pulled into the driveway. He almost considered cancelling the entire thing, but he was robbed of the chance to do exactly that as soon as Caleb’s way too cheerful grin appeared in the front window of the McMansion. Grumbling bald-faced lies about how much he hated the man, Taz eagerly climbed out of the car and promptly shoved his hands into the kangaroo pouch of the sweatshirt he wore. Luke’s sweatshirt, of course. He’d insisted on wearing it despite the lingering heat that made it downright uncomfortable for a September morning. He did a lot of things out of spite, after all.

“Tazzy baby! Give me love,” Caleb gushed as soon as the door swung open.

“Ew.”

“Bring it in, sugar.” Caleb muscled himself in and forced a hug on him. He hated it, mostly. It was simply easier to relent.

“Hate you.”

“I know, sweet pea. I hate you so very much.” Caleb grabbed his hand and towed him into the house. Luke had the presence of mind to try and stifle his snickering as he trailed behind them.

“How's life?” Taz tried and failed to engage in small talk as he slid into a barstool at the island. Caleb rose higher on Taz’ shit list as he plopped a tray of snacks on the surface before him. All of them were manipulative fuckers. Every single person he knew. Taz reached out and grabbed a pastry without second thought.

“Fabulous as always.” Caleb crossed his arms and leaned against the counter with an easygoing expression. “You hanging in there?”

Taz scowled and avoided the question. He'd done enough talking about feelings and bullshit for one day. “This isn't a social call.”

“Of course not, my reclusive little kitty cat.” Caleb reached out and patted the back of Taz’ hand. “Which is why I'm kidnapping you for brunch again tomorrow morning.”

Taz rolled his eyes and fought his smile. He wasn't fooling anyone. He kinda sorta definitely lived for their standing weekly brunch date and craft store visits. “Ridiculous.”

“Timothy, play nice.”

Luke’s words had Taz arching a brow, but the warning made sense as soon as little Parker came scampering into the room. He still didn't know how to handle kids. Everyone tried to convince him he was great with them, but he'd probably always feel like a fish out of water with the little things.

“Tazzy, hi! Lemme up! Oop, sorry… hold dis.” Parker foisted a wad of paper and a handful of colored pencils on him, climbed the stool—and Taz' body—like a spider monkey on speed. He was all rangy limbs and knobby joints, most of which connected with Taz’ trunk and drove a grunt from his lips. By the time he settled in his lap, Taz was more winded than the kid was.

“Hey, uh… little dude.”

“Hi.” Parker looked up with a toothy smile as he pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “You gotta color with me. Dad’s being boring.”

“Oh. Yeah, whatever.” Taz awkwardly adjusted the small body settled on his lap and flicked an uncertain gaze toward the smugly smiling faces of his boyfriend and best friend. It was a cry for help. The fuckers simply laughed in response.

“Do tell me what this social-not-social visit is all about, my darling.” Caleb reached over and snagged a sheet of paper and pencil. Luke did the same. Taz tried not to let himself get awkward about it, but he couldn't help it. Coloring was something he did in secret with Luke. Now it had become a group activity and he would be fucked seven ways to Sunday before he let himself really sink into it like he did at home.

“I can't really say much,” Taz mumbled, making a pointed glance to the little guy on his lap. “Don't tell me specifics, but… are you and Eli planning something related to… she who shall remain unnamed?”

Caleb’s pencil stopped mid stroke on a sketch of an evening gown. His eyes darted away toward the hall and back three times before he finally pulled himself together enough to nod without a word.

“Figured. Again… can't really say much but… be careful.”

“Where did you hear that?” Usually unflappably cool and confident, Caleb’s voice rasped and hissed like he was choking on his words.

“Same place where I find out everything.” To literally illustrate his point, Taz sketched a wonky computer on his paper and circled it three times.

“Right. Careful. Is this something we need to discuss tomorrow morning? At brunch?”

Taz hesitated, weighing his options and the potential repercussions of them all. Snatching up a black pencil, he drew a rough square around the computer sketch and then added thick black bars. It was a shitty drawing, but he hoped the concept of jail cells conveyed. “Yes and no. We all need to be careful.”

“Well, cover me in shiitake mushrooms and call it glitter.” Caleb's lips pursed as his pencil resumed aimlessly scrawling over the page. “Scale of one to ten, Taz. Gimme the deetz.”

“Like a seven or eight.” Taz deliberately perched his chin atop Parker’s head and made eye contact with Cay as he wound an arm around the little boy’s belly. “Leaning eight, if you catch my drift.”

“Nah, I'm nine. You remember my party, Tazzy?” Parker snugged in closer with a contented sigh. “That was a good party.”

Gutted, filleted, and dragged over hot coals. Taz squeezed the small body closer and sighed softly. “Best party, little dude. You can plan my party next, okay?”

“Heck yeah! Are you gonna be… forty?”

Taz blinked and boggled before breaking into stifled cackles. “Little bro, I'm turning twenty-three.”

“Oh. I don't know! Everyone old is forty!”

“Park, your dad isn't even forty.” Caleb wagged the end of the pencil in Parker’s face.

Parker gawped, stunned into silence as if they'd all completely blown his little mind. Ah, to be so innocent again. Taz felt the pang deep in his chest, right alongside the warmth and affection he refused to give a voice to.

“Huh,” Parker expressed, bemused and thoughtful.

“Huh is accurate,” Taz agreed. The whole shit show was one giant “huh” that pretty much encompassed it all. 404, logic not found. There really weren't any other words suitable enough to define the maelstrom of his mind. Huh would have to work. At least until he could dig a little deeper.