Cut and Run 6 - Stars and Stripes

Smith and Wesson. It was a tender side to his lover no one else had seen, and it all culminated in the way he treated those damn cats.
    For a brief moment, Zane was almost sick with the need to wrap Ty up in a hug.
    “Are you really okay, Zane?”
    “For now,” Zane said, voice hoarse. He shifted to look out the window. There were no lights. Nothing on the skyline but the occasional hill or scrub tree. And stars as far as he could see, stretching on into the night. “I wish you could see this, Ty.”
    Ty was silent. Zane was familiar with that silence; he heard it almost every time he said something sincere to his lover and Ty tried to decide if he should respond with a joke or with something more genuine. Zane never knew what kind of response he would get, and that was half the fun of it.
    “I’m sure I’ll see it one day,” Ty said softly.
    Zane closed his eyes. He almost wished Ty had made a joke of it this time. He missed him. There was no point in lingering over it, so he moved on.
    “The real problems come when Mother shows up.”
    “Why?”
    “She’s barely been to the hospital.”
    “Did your folks split up?”
    “If they have, no one’s told me. They’re still both living in the same house, but it’s so big they wouldn’t cross paths if they didn’t want to.” Zane had always wondered how his dad lived with his mother every day, but to get through forty-five years of marriage, he obviously loved her on some level. “When she shows up, all she can do is tell me that none of this would have happened if I’d been here like a good son.”
    “You know that’s bullshit, right?”
    “Yeah, but . . . she’s my mom.” Zane dragged his hand through his damp hair. “You’d think she’d just be glad to see me, but no.”
    “I’m sorry, Zane. I’m not really sure how to help. Other than to tell you to quit your bitching and go buy me a Stetson.”
    Zane chuckled at Ty’s attempt to distract him from his troubles. As usual, it was working. “I don’t know. A Stetson’s a real personal thing to a man. You don’t just go around handing them out.” He shook his head and spoke more quietly. “I’m not sure there’s helping to be done. Just wish you were here.”
    Ty was silent for a long while—another of those silences where he tried to decide which path to take—the sound of his breathing steady and comforting. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Well, you want me to tell you about my night? Any story that starts out with ‘There was this dude with a ferret in his beard’ is bound to make you feel better, right?”
    “Tell me,” Zane said, smiling and relaxing back as Ty started talking. He was glad to listen to his lover ramble on in a voice as smooth as honey instead of dwelling over the trouble he was sure to find tomorrow when he started digging.

    “Suspect is on foot, agents in pursuit,” the dispatcher said through Ty’s earpiece. “Suspect is armed and dangerous.”
    Ty cut across three lanes of traffic, climbing over a Mini Cooper and then leaping over the head of a cyclist as he dove to grab for the suspect. He made contact but slid right off the man and landed hard, rolling across the sidewalk and slamming into the base of a hotdog cart. The contents tumbled and splattered all over him before he could scramble back to his feet.
    He cursed and wiped relish off his arm as he sat up. He supposed he was fortunate the boiling water hadn’t fallen on him, but that stroke of luck didn’t make up for the fact that this was ruining what had been a nice Sunday afternoon with friends.
    He could sprint and he could cover long distances, and he could fucking parkour up the side of a wall, but he wasn’t built for dashing across entire cities after suspects who were part gazelle and greased up like that slimy green thing from Ghostbusters.
    “I lost him,” Alston panted over the earpiece. “He’s like a cyborg or something.”
    Ty looked around as he tried to catch his breath. He and his teammates had been enjoying lunch at a sidewalk café after closing a difficult week, debating if they should order a bottle of wine or just walk a few blocks over to the nearest bar and start Sunday off early like good little heathens. And then a man had paraded up to them in a trench coat and whipped it open to reveal nothing underneath but a huge, unfortunate tiger tattoo on his chest. His nipples formed the tiger’s eyes, his navel acted as the nose, and Ty hadn’t allowed