Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

bruises on Ty, although the man showed no signs of it bothering him. “Yeah,” he said, and he walked over to the low dresser where the ice bucket was buried, digging it out from under a few stacks of folders.
    Ty smirked as he watched him. “If you lose feeling in it again, don't worry too much. I only know one guy who ever lost a limb from it."
    Zane flipped him off before picking up the key card and heading to the door.
    "Hey!” Ty called after him in slight alarm, moving his feet and letting the legs of his chair clunk down loudly.
    Zane turned back, his hand on the door latch. “What?"
    Ty frowned and pressed his lips into a thin line. “Watch yourself,” he cautioned quietly. Zane looked at him for a long moment, then nodded once and left the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind him. Ty cursed disgustedly and slumped back into his chair, covering his eyes with a hand as he kicked his feet back up onto the bed and muttered to himself. He would not let that priss get to him. He wouldn't.
    Rubbing at his eyes as he walked down the hall to the ice machine, Zane thought about the roller-coaster of the last hour. More days like this, and he wouldn't need the drink or the drugs to drive him over the edge. Laughing wryly, he stuck the bucket into the machine. When he tripped the switch, it made a loud, grinding noise that tried to drown out his thoughts, and he looked over his shoulder instinctively as if someone might try to sneak up on him from behind while he couldn't hear them. But the only other thing in the little alcove was the ice machine, and it couldn't drown out what stuck with him the most; what he wanted to forget was the feel of Ty's body under his, if even just for a few seconds. He squeezed his eyes shut and told himself again to forget it. That was one territory that would have to remain unexplored.
    Left alone in the room that wasn't actually his, Ty stood up quickly and decided to take the opportunity to change. He didn't think it was a good idea to stay in this room tonight, for several reasons, but he would be damned if he suggested they split up. He was getting more and more nervous about the man they were after, and neither of them needed to be alone. He thought about his new partner and frowned as he moved. Zane had lasted longer in a semi-fair almost-fight than Ty would have given him credit for. He had upended Ty not once, but twice. And that was damned hard to do, even when Ty was hurt and laughing uncontrollably.
    As Ty slid his damp jeans down, he realized that for the first time since meeting his partner, he was genuinely curious about him. He was also beginning to grudgingly respect the man's abilities—and the sheer nerve it took to stand up to a Marine in a dark alley. He cursed quietly to himself and tossed his jeans and briefs into the corner with the rest of his dirty clothing as the electronic lock clicked.
    Zane walked in to see the absolute last thing that would help him forget what was on his mind: a lean, wiry, nude Ty Grady, muscles shifting under tanned and scarred skin as he shifted to grab his clean clothes off the bed. Zane blinked a couple times as the door shut behind him and changed direction to retreat into the bathroom, where he grabbed a hand towel for wrapping some ice. If he was breathing a little harder, who would know other than him?
    Ty pulled up a fresh pair of briefs and reached for the thin white T-shirt he scrounged out of his bag. “You okay?” he called out evenly.
    Zane swallowed. “Yeah,” he answered, voice amazingly steady as he looked at himself in the mirror. “No problem. Besides these goddamn bruises you gave me. And my hand fucking hurts.” He tried to make himself focus on the ice. He pulled out the plastic bag, dumped half back into the bucket, and tied up the bag before covering his whole hand with the towel.
    "Whine about it some, it'll make it go away,” Ty suggested.
    "Bite me, asshole,” Zane replied. But there was no heat in his voice. He had worked any anger out in that alley, for the moment. He took a deep breath and walked out, free hand holding the ice, and he stopped to lean one shoulder against the wall.
    Ty sat on the end of the bed, pulling on a new pair of socks, looking up at Zane expectantly. “Did you bring me any?” he asked finally as he held out his bruised and bloodied left hand. When he moved, the words on his T-shirt were more visible. It was a plain white shirt with brown print on it. It read,