The Corruption of Colt Jackson Ch. 12

Chapter Twelve

Three more days go by. Colt played a fantastic show on Friday night with the Drunk Wizards. Marc isn't there for the performance and that feels strange to him. He could swear that he sees two of the men he'd seen at Amnesia there though. It had been dark at the warehouse club so it's hard to be sure and there was no way he was going to approach them after the show without Marc there.

Saturday he went into town and used some of Marc's money to buy them both a new bedroom set. It isn't something that's just for him, but it also isn't an item that he was told to buy. Something about the way Marc had said 'our bed' on the phone the other day made Colt think of it.

Sunday he goes to church and then comes back home. He spends the day setting up the new bedroom furniture and putting the new comforter and pillows on the bed. He fills the drawers of the end tables and the bureaus with his and Marc's things.

Moving things around, he finds two firearms that have to be Marc's. One is a rifle that had been hidden beneath the old bed. The other one is a Glock that was in the old nightstand on Marc's side of the bed.

Colt is from Texas. Guns are no big deal to him and were seen regularly from the time he was very young. The problem is that Marc brought weapons into his... or their, house without telling him.

On Monday morning he decides to look for a new job again.

His plans are cut short when Marc scares the shit out of him that morning by joining him in the shower. Colt hadn't even heard him come in. But the curtain is pushed aside and he nearly jumps out of his skin when it does. Marc is naked in the shower, kissing him. Marc is so damn good at giving blow jobs and the one Colt receives in the shower is no exception.

A press to his shoulder when Marc is done and standing again has Colt on his knees doing the same for Marc in return, although Colt doesn't feel nearly as adept at it as he thinks Marc is. Still, he gets Marc off and is held in place until he swallows down what Marc spent in his mouth.

Back on his feet, Marc kisses him. Colt returns the kiss. They kiss for awhile, the both of them freely touching each others' body.

"I missed you, Vanilla."

Colt can't say that he didn't miss kissing and being kissed like this with Marc. He missed Marc's company. He missed Marc's touch and his kisses and the way Marc pushes him past his comfort zone. He missed Marc. "I missed you too."

"You bought us a new bed." Marc says.

"A whole bedroom set. Now it's really our bed."

There's a rare look of vulnerability on Marc's features that's there and gone again. It feels as if he just got a glimpse of the real Marc without all the tough guy bravado. Colt thinks the bedroom set was worth every penny for that look. The bedroom set was a good call.

After getting out of the shower, Colt pulls on some sweatpants and goes into their bedroom. There's a black bag sitting on the bed. He goes over to it to unzip it. "You need me to do laundry?"

There isn't laundry in the bag. There's blocks of a white powdery substance.

Marc's hand slaps the duffel closed and he zips it back up. "Yeah. I need you to do laundry." The bag is shoved under the bed and Marc finishes zipping up his jeans.

"Drugs? That's what the Fiarri business is?"

"Hey." Marc grips both sides of Colt's waist and kisses him again. "Laundry. Get on it, Vanilla. It's in the other bag."

Colt worries his bottom lip in his teeth and goes to the other duffel on the bed. He opens it up and finds Marc's dirty clothes. There's blood on some of them. Colt wants to say something, but he isn't sure what. It didn't look like Marc had any fresh wounds while they were both naked in the shower just now. So whose blood is on Marc's clothes?

He gets busy with laundry, trying to come up with a way to discuss the drugs, the blood and to bring up the guns he'd found in the house. While he waits for wash cycles and dry cycles to end, he cleans house, he tries to read a book and fails.

Marc is watching TV in the living room when Colt is finished hanging up the last piece of clothing. He'd scrubbed at the blood stains with a brush and had to throw one of the shirts away because it was beyond saving.

He makes sure he has his thoughts and words in order, then steels himself to have a discussion with Marc.

"Hey, babe?"

Marc looks at him and grins lopsidedly. "I like that... you calling me babe."

"Good. I just... I think we should talk about some of the things that are in our house right now."

"Colt, no. Not right now, alright? I've had a long week without you and I don't wanna talk about any of it. I just wanna be here with you."

"But there are drugs under our bed. There's a gun under our bed too. There's also a gun in the nightstand. Your clothes were covered in-"

Colt takes a step back when Marc suddenly stands up from the couch and comes toward him. A hand at either side of Colt's waist, Marc starts kissing him. As they kiss, Marc walks Colt backward until his back is against the wall next to the door to the bedroom.

"It's not your place to ask questions, Colt. Okay?"

Marc is kissing him again. Colt turns his head to the side to free his lips. "But it is my place. I'm with you. You're living here and-"

One of Marc's hands covers Colt's mouth to make him quit talking. Colt stares at Marc, those brown eyes suddenly looking hard and dangerous.

Marc shushes him as one does an upset child. "Shhhhh...."

The hand over his mouth slides down to wrap around the front of Colt's neck. One thumb glides gently over his skin but the pressure on his throat is just enough to be uncomfortable, just this side of dangerous.

Colt is frozen in place. He's seen his dad actually choke his mom. He's been choked by his dad. He doesn't move. He holds his breath. He waits, like a deer in headlights. Marc isn't choking him... yet.

"Breathe, Vanilla."

Colt makes himself draw in a deep breath. Marc hasn't hurt him yet. He hasn't ever hurt him. He wouldn't.

"Now, go pour yourself a drink, a whole tumbler full, and drink it up." Marc pulls his hand away and lightly pats Colt's ass. "Go on."

A part of Colt wants to stand here and make Marc talk to him about what's going on. He's startled enough by the hand that had just been over his mouth and at his throat, by the look in Marc's eyes, that he slowly pushes away from the wall and goes into the kitchen.

Colt gets a tumbler from the cabinet and opens a bottle of whiskey. He pours himself a tumbler full, replaces the bottle and then takes a sip. Colt hadn't had very much whiskey while Marc had been gone, now he's staring down a whole tumbler full. He can feel Marc behind him and turns to look at him.

"Drink." Marc says.

When Colt takes another drink, Marc puts a finger under the bottom of the glass as he sometimes does to make Colt drink more than he intends to. Colt wrinkles his nose and Marc draws an index finger down the crooked line of its bridge. They go like this for a few minutes until the tumbler is empty.

Only then does Colt feel like he's gathered himself enough to speak again. "Can we talk, Marc? Please?"

"Pour yourself another glass."

Colt rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and turns to the counter to pour another tumbler full. "I get it, Marc. You're a big bad gangster-type guy. I'm not tryin' to fuck with that. You brought it into this house though... and that gives me a right-"

There's suddenly a fist in his hair yanking backward and a forearm at his spine pushing forward, putting Colt at a backward bow angle. He drops the tumbler, the whiskey splashing over the floor amid shattered glass.

The sound of shattered glass is all too familiar to him. His dad was really good at breaking glass. He's back to deer in headlights mode, frozen.

Marc's lips are at his ear. "That gives you a right to what?" Colt's lost his breath and doesn't answer. The quiet gets him another yank at his hair and his hands go up to try to pry Marc's fist from his locks. "Answer me, Colt. That gives you a right to what?"

"To know what's going on." His voice sounds quieter than normal, like a whisper. This isn't happening. It can't be happening. Marc will realize what he's doing and let go before it goes too far. Surely he will.

Colt isn't sure what the definition of 'too far' is.

"I didn't mean to have to bring it home. Job went bad. It shouldn't be here more than a few days. I just need someplace to stash it until it's safe again." Colt's head is yanked around a bit by his hair. "Happy?"

"Marc... stop." Colt says, his voice surprisingly calm and steady. "I am not your enemy. I'm not your enemy, Marc."

Colt is shoved forward as Marc lets go of his hair. His bare foot slips in the spilled whiskey and he falls to the floor of the kitchen. He pushes himself up to his knees. There's glass in one of his knees and both palms. Blood seeps from the cuts.

He exhales a heavy breath of air and grabs a towel from where it's hanging off of the handle of the oven. He lays it over the spilled whiskey to soak it up and to cover up a majority of the broken glass.

Once Marc seems to realize what he's done, he gets on the floor too. "Oh, baby I'm sorry."

When Colt feels Marc reaching out to him he bats his hands away. "Don't touch me right now."

"Colt, come here."

Colt feels Marc's hand on his shoulder and he flinches away. "I said don't touch me."

Still, Marc grabs Colt and pulls him back to him, arms wrapping around him tightly. Colt knows that Marc never takes no for an answer so it isn't completely unexpected. Colt stays very rigid and still as Marc holds him.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. My mind's all messed up from the job. I'm still worked up. I should've stayed away for another day or two. I just missed you so much. I had to see you. I couldn't stay away."

Gradually, Colt melts into Marc's embrace. He closes his eyes and listens to Marc apologize over and over again as he kisses anyplace his lips can reach on Colt.

His dad had never apologized to his mom. His dad just beat the shit out of her and expected her to continue taking it, same with Colt himself. She always continued taking it. So did Colt right up until he left.

It's a good sign that Marc is apologizing to him... right? It's good that he knows that what he just did wasn't right. It's good that he's capable of apologizing.

Maybe Colt's just grasping at straws for anything good in this moment.

"It's okay." He hears himself whisper the words. "It's okay. Marc, I have to take the glass out of my hands and my knee. I need-"

"I'll get it. I'll get the first-aide kit and I'll be right back. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." Marc takes Colt's face in both hands and kisses him. Colt returns the kiss and nods at Marc.

Colt watches Marc leave the kitchen, careful to step over the whiskey and broken glass. Only then does he feel like he can breathe completely and fully. What the hell just happened? He wills himself not to cry and somehow, out of sheer willpower, keeps the tears that have gathered in his eyes from falling.

Marc returns too quickly and together they remove the glass and decide that the cuts don't need stitches. Marc dresses the wounds after disinfecting them. He kisses Colt's hands and his knee over the bandages and then kisses him on the lips again.

Once Colt is sitting on the couch, Marc cleans up the spilled whiskey and broken glass. Colt doesn't think he ever saw his dad clean up after his messes like that either. He always made Colt or his mom do it.

This is another good sign, right? Yes. It is. It has to be.

It has to be.