The Witness Wore a Puppy Tail, chapter 17 (Patreon)

Ken half-expected Robert to vanish once he hit campus, but the man texted when his class was nearly over asking for a ride. Ken respected Robert’s ethics, envied his self-confidence, and admired his ass, but there was no way Ken would ever understand his mind. The man punched Ken in the morning, and called for a ride in the afternoon. If Ken spent too much time around Robert, he was going to get mental whiplash.

Since Robert had given him advance warning of when class would end, Ken excused himself from the paperwork end of the investigation and was leaning against the wall when class ended. At the far end of the corridor, a campus security guard stood next to the window and watched with a bored expression. Kids streamed out of the room, chatting and texting and generally looking entirely too young for college. Ken’s psychology courses were much more solemn affairs, attended by older students, most of whom had a serious, practical reason for wanting to study deviant behavior and law enforcement. Ken felt like he was getting older with every passing second until Robert finally came out near the back of the pack of students.

“Ken!” Robert sounded genuinely excited to see him, and Ken firmly ignored the flutter deep in his gut. “Millan,” he said in his most professional tone. Meeting with the assistant D. A. had brought home the necessity of not damaging the prosecution’s case. "How was class?"

"I am so glad this course fit into my schedule. The prof gave a great lecture on sexual practices and societal power," Robert said. “I would have taken a double major with anthropology if I had known how kinky these guys get. If there aren’t anthropologists already studying drag culture and the modern BDSM revolution, I’ll eat my shoes.”

Ken’s classes definitely weren’t this much fun. At the end of a lecture on serial killers, Ken’s balls were applying for positions as internal organs, and his libido was in full retreat. The damage done to his sexual appetite had made his bisexuality a bit of a moot point. “You seemed a little hyper today.” The other students had cleared the hall, and even the security guard had wandered off. Hopefully the man had recognized Ken as a police officer, and he hadn’t just left Robert undefended.

"If you’d been in that lecture, so would you." Robert wiggled his ass. "So, is this how you see it working?" he asked the moment the door whispered closed behind the retreating guard.

The unexpected jibe slipped past all Ken’s defenses and he blushed like a fucking teenager. "It was a simple slip of the tongue," Ken growled. The tone might have frightened a lesser man, but Robert smiled wider.

"Sure, no problem," he answered, but he started down the hall with a bounce in his step, and it did accentuate his very fine backside.

"Millan, you're a pain in the ass."

"I prefer to receive than give, thanks," Robert said. "Except, of course, with women. Well, women other than Roberta because she has this neat little toy--"

"Millan," Ken barked, "I do not want to hear about it." Ken had a bone deep aversion to hearing about it, one that caught Ken off guard in its power.

Robert turned and studied Ken, his gaze running across Ken’s body with such intensity that a shiver went up Ken’s spine. Slowly, Robert smiled. "I wouldn't have thought you were the jealous type."

"You're a dog with a bone," Ken sighed. "It was a slip of the tongue."

"Shall I sew you to your sheet?" Robert asked.

"What?"

"Spoonerisms. Reversing letters so that 'show you to your seat' becomes 'sew you to your sheet.' Verbal slips. Freudian slips. Verbal games.” Robert bounced on his toes, and Ken was starting to wonder if this was the aftermath of surviving a potentially fatal attack or drug use.

"Games, slips of the tongue, proxemics, haptics," Robert said, his voice little more than a whisper. He moved closer, and Ken fought an urge to retreat.

Ken crossed his arms over his chest. "If you're going for dirty talk, you should probably use words I know." 

Robert stopped when his chest brushed against Ken’s arms. "Haptics—the use of touch in communication. Proxemics—the use of space. Games—well, I think we both know that one."

"I don't play games," Ken warned. And he didn't. Hell, he’d considered taking up the mantle of asexuality to avoid them. He enjoyed sex, but every relationship he’d been in had turned to games sooner or later. One woman would play helpless and wait for Ken to ride to her rescue. Then there was the guy who liked to ambush Ken and demand sex in semi-public and inappropriate places. Ken liked honesty, and his experiences had taught him to stop looking for it in relationships. So Robert’s sudden bout of sexual game playing was not doing a thing for him.

A frown crossed Robert’s face and then vanished. He took a step back. "I guess that’s not how you see it working between us," Robert said quietly. He had an undercurrent of disappointment, and Ken strode past Robert where he didn’t have to see the man.

"I guess you don't have me pegged as well as you assumed.” He couldn't get into this, not with a case hanging on his ability to control his own libido. "You said you needed a ride to the club district, and I’m here to provide that." Ken forced himself to focus on work.

Robert had a shorter stride, and he was having to trot to keep up, so Ken slowed when he reached the stairs. He didn’t need Robert to take a header. A few clumps of students gathered at the landing where the stairs turned, and Ken had to detour around them. As he was crossing the manicured lawn, Robert caught his arm.

"Hey!" 

Ken kept walking.

"Hey!" Robert said louder as he tugged at Ken’s arm. People were starting to turn and look at them, so Ken did stop. 

“If we want to prosecute these guys, there can’t be any rumors about an inappropriate relationship.” Ken kept his voice to a whisper. “For you, this is entertainment. For me, this is potentially aiding these assholes by giving their legal team a bullet proof defense. 

Robert shook his head. “This isn’t entertainment. I mean…” He lifted his hands and then let them drop as though the effort was too much.

Ken sighed. “We need to avoid the appearance of impropriety.”

After an initially confused look, Robert narrowed his eyes. “We need to avoid the appearance of it or the reality? Are you saying no, or are you saying you don’t want people to assume the lead detective has the hots for this witness?" Robert asked.

An irrational current of anger ran through Ken. "I won’t allow some judge to toss the case because we acted like idiots." 

Robert smiled wider. "I knew you weren’t straight. Okay, no acting like idiots until this case is done and over and these guys are well and truly convicted. I can do this.” He schooled his features into a mask of determination.

“That’s not what I said.” Ken said louder than he intended. He lowered his voice. “That’s not what I indented.”

Robert nodded and gave Ken a sad smile. “Oh man. I get it. Ethical considerations are more important than lust. I am right there with you.” Robert started walking toward the parking lot.

Now Ken ran to catch up with him. “I am not in lust,” Ken said firmly. He wasn’t. Maybe he had a little curiosity and an appreciation for the objective beauty in Robert’s form, but that was not the same as lust.

“Got it,” Robert agreed, but somehow he managed to make it sound like the exact opposite of agreement.

Gritting his teeth, Ken walked faster. The sooner they were in the car and focusing on the case, the better. The man had a doctorate in ability to annoy others, and Ken had no idea how to handle that, especially when Robert got him so flustered that he misspoke. And despite what he had told Robert, he did recognize the pattern in his own verbal slips. That didn’t mean he would ever act on his curiosity. Ken had no interest in humiliating a partner and making them crawl on the floor, and he certainly didn’t want to take advantage of a witness who likely saw him as a protector figure. All of that added to the danger of damaging the legal case weighed heavily on Ken’s mind.

They were in the sedan and in line to get out of student parking when Robert spoke again. “I know this is a huge favor, but do you think I could camp on your couch until you catch these guys.”

Ken slapped the steering wheel. “I literally said, not three minutes ago, that we can’t afford to have people question our relationship. Why don’t you camp on your father’s couch?”

“Fine. Nevermind. I’ll find another place.” Robert blurted the words out so fast that they all merged into one Frankenword. That set off alarms in the back of Ken’s mind.

“Buddy, is there something you need to tell me?”

Robert glanced. “You are seriously hot. I mean you have chiseled features I don’t expect to see outside models and actors and old Marlboro man advertisements.”

Again, Ken had a moment of mental whiplash as he pulled out into traffic. “I was actually wondered if you wanted to tell me why you are working so hard to avoid your father.” 

“What?” Robert sounded genuinely confused. “Oh, no,” he immediately added. “No, you are not implying anything about my father.”

“You work had to avoid being alone with him,” Ken said. He kept a firm grip on the wheel because he knew that victims could react violently when someone threatened their secrets.

Instead, Robert laughed. “Dad is a champion of the underdog, or at least he has been since Mom died. You can’t possible think he would have been a perv.”

“Perv and altruist are not mutually exclusive,” Ken said. Unfortunately, too many abusers were charming and helpful individuals on the surface. Their true colors showed only when they got their victims alone. 

“In this case, they are,” Robert said firmly. “Look, not that it’s any of your business, but I resent the hell out of my father. And he knows he was a shitty human being when I was young, so now he’s always trying to make up for it. If I mention a game or a car I like, he’ll buy it. It’s a little awkward.”

Ken’s parents were both as poor as church mice. His father’s shop had been doing well until the age of computerized cars had made it impossible to work on them without buying prohibitively expensive equipment, and his mother was an attendance secretary at a school. Ken would trade them for the world, but he sure as hell wouldn’t turn down a car. “I’m not seeing the problem.”

Robert snorted. “Yeah, neither did I when I was a teenager. He went from the person I barely saw to the man who tried taking over the parenting when my mom died, and I totally took advantage of the money. I went running straight for a cliff, and he bought the running shoes, and then the car, and yeah, he bought the parachute after I went over the edge, but…” Robert turned his back and stared out the passenger side window. “My therapist and I agree that it’s best if I maintain a certain distance.”

A spoiled rich kid needing a parachute after his mother died. “Drugs?” Ken guessed.

“I was way too into healthy living. I’m surprised I didn’t overdose on granola.” The humor had an edge of pain that Ken hated hearing. “My mom’s last ditch effort to avoid dying involved seaweed and whole foods. I guess when she was gone, that was a way to hold onto her. However, I broke into a computer store and stole a bunch of stuff my friends wanted. I wasn’t hanging with the best people.”

Ken grimaced. A felony could ruin a person’s life. “Did your dad get them to charge you as a minor?” 

“He paid two of my friends a ridiculous amount of money to confess to the crime and then got them charged as juveniles,” Robert said. “I tried to tell the police the truth, but they thought I was some stupid kid trying to prove I was as big and bad as my friends. And the fact my father bribed two black friends probably had something to do with the police reactions. My hatred for my father and my hatred of the police are like this.” Robert held up his crossed fingers.

That was shitty. Given that Robert had a pretty strong ethical drive, Ken couldn’t imagine how he had felt about that. It explained why he’d had a therapist. 

“Pretty fucked up, right?”

“Your father is a piece of work.”

“Well, yeah,” Robert said, “but I meant myself. I still get so angry with him sometimes, so it’s best if I keep my distance.”

Ken remembered how he’d exploded at the officer who had failed to send a rescue team fast enough to actually rescue him. Two guys had grabbed him before he could get off a punch, and the doctor had signed paperwork saying that Ken’s lack of impulse control was a side effect of the traumatic brain injury and PTSD. Maybe he believed that, but Ken still wouldn’t trust himself in the same room with that smug captain.

“Your reaction is normal,” Ken said. “Let me talk to the captain and see if he’ll approve it.” Ken should probably go to Carol and have her talk to Gary. At this point, Ken had burned too many bridges to get any favors.

“If you can’t… Hey, no problem. Thanks for being willing to ask.” Robert’s smile was almost shy.

“A lot of it will depend on what the D.A. thinks. All of us have to be practical about how to make sure this case is solid.”

"Sometimes being impractical is so much more fun," Robert said in a throaty voice. Clearly he had decided their tender moment was over and he was back to teasing. Ken wondered if this was a defense mechanism. Teasing Ken was safe because Ken couldn’t response to the unspoken invitation, and it gave Robert something to focus on. With that in mind, Ken focused on making sure his own feelings stayed tightly under control.

He turned the corner and detoured around a pothole in front of the yellow sign announcing a sale at Home Depot. He focused on pretty much anything except the way Robert tilted his head and sounded so needy. When Ken didn't answer, the conversation lapsed into silence as they passed block after block.

"I should warn you that I'm not exactly house-broken," Robert joked.

"Millan," Ken growled. It didn't work.

"I've even been known to steal slippers from time to time because, I get bored easy, and me and boredom are not generally a good mix."

"Enough!" Ken snapped as he got pretty desperate to stop this strange foreplay. He could just imagine one or two things to keep Robert busy, but this was a witness.

"I’m seriously in need of a firm but loving hand.”

Ken gritted his teeth. Maybe he should go straight to the captain and ask permission to move the witness into his house. The captain would forbid it, and that would be the smartest course of action. 

“Is this how you see it working between us?" Robert asked. 

Ken looked over with a denial on his lips, but the vulnerable expression on Robert's face made the words die. A horn honked, and Ken hit the accelerator a couple of seconds after the light had already turned green. Ken had to focus on the case. That was the only way to avoid a total disaster. And maybe there would be something more after the case, but somehow Ken doubted that Robert would still be interested a couple of years down the road. By then he would have graduated, gotten a job in some newspaper, and he wouldn’t feel a need for a protector. 

Lots of victims fell for the detectives who worked their cases. Hero worship. Nothing more. Robert was no more to blame for his fears and his misplaced emotions than Ken had been to blame for his PTSD. They’d just have to work through the mess together.

Chapter 18: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-18-19083274 

Chapter 19: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-19-19142224 

Chapter 20: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-20-19153311 

Chapter 21, 22, 23: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-21-21192263 

Chapter 24: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-24-21260957