Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

“You Have the Right to Remain Silent ... SO SHUT UP."
    Zane glanced at Ty's hand and shifted his own jaw back and forth. He held out the ice he had prepared. He could make himself another if Ty accepted it.
    Ty snorted and smiled slightly. “Fuck it,” he sighed as he waved Zane off.
    "You want to be able to use that hand later?” Zane asked reasonably.
    "You gonna make me hit you again?” Ty countered.
    "But you seemed to enjoy it so much,” Zane answered sweetly.
    "True,” Ty allowed as he reached out and snagged the bag of ice.
    Zane let Ty take the cold pack and turned on his heel without comment, returning to the bathroom to make another one. He glanced in the mirror and saw another black smudge coming up on the side of his jaw, extending up nearly to his cheekbone. “Motherfucker,” he muttered, prodding at it.
    "What was that?” Ty called from the outer room.
    "You got me good,” Zane answered, thinking that not shaving another couple days wasn't a bad idea.
    "Yeah,” Ty sighed contentedly.
    Zane rolled his eyes and walked back out, hand wrapped up again. He felt the need to defend himself. “I got in a few good hits, remember?"
    "Yeah,” Ty repeated with a frown as he pressed the ice in his hand to his ribs, icing both sore spots at the same time.
    Holding his tongue, Zane decided to be content with that knowledge. He slowly turned his chin to look at Ty, and he really looked at him. Looked at his heart-shaped face disguised by scruff, full lips, forehead between dark brows scrunched in concentration, sharp nose, all crowned by sparkling hazel eyes that seemed to change colors as he watched. Zane's mouth compressed ever so slightly, and he blinked slowly, breaking the moment before he turned his eyes away and headed back to the files. He would have shivered if he'd let himself. As it was, his shoulders tensed as he tried to quash that damn itch.
    "You really worried about the bruises?” Ty asked as he looked up at Zane. “We can stick a needle in ‘em and they'll fade,” he offered seriously. When Zane didn't respond, Ty cocked his head and watched him with a raised eyebrow and a small frown. “You okay?” he asked neutrally.
    Zane's nostrils flared as he mulled over his thoughts, and he pushed away from the table again abruptly, suddenly antsy and needing some room. He stalked over to the window, moving the drapes to look out on the city, keeping the ice on his wrist.
    Ty watched him, still trying to figure out the sudden mood changes his new partner suffered. Maybe Zane didn't drink anymore, but he'd definitely killed off some brain cells along the way. “Want me to leave?” Ty asked in the same neutral tone.
    Forgetting about the dark window that would mirror his reflection, Zane closed his eyes as he grimaced like he was in pain. He cradled his wrist against the ice. If Ty left, he might be able to relax more. He just couldn't get the image of that lean, muscled body out of his head. He might be able to get some sleep, to think without the frustration gnawing at him ... after he got off, probably. Damn it. His escapade earlier hadn't done anything but take the edge off. He shook his head in answer to Ty's question, regardless.
    "Good,” Ty responded seriously. “'Cause all my shit's here now and I'm too damn lazy to move it. Why don't you get some more sleep?” he suggested softly. If he wasn't mistaken, he was witnessing the beginnings of a burnout. He'd seen plenty of them. Even had a few himself.
    Zane took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” he said softly. He turned away from the window, closing the curtain before he crossed the room for the bathroom, intending to get rid of the ice. His hand was numb enough. He shut the door and sat down on the toilet, threw the towel and bag in the sink, and covered his face with both hands.
    Fuck, Garrett, get hold of yourself, he thought morosely. His hard-as-nails partner was going to think he was falling apart. He craved the calm a cigarette would give him and briefly considered going out to get one and smoking it right there in the damn room.
    Ty remained where he was, trying to decide on a course of action. Finally, he got up slowly, pulled a clean pair of jeans on, then walked silently on bare feet to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Hey, Garrett?” he called gently just before his voice turned sarcastic and teasing. “Do you need a hug?"
    Stifling a laugh, Zane looked up at the