Inner Workings - Part 23

By peachnewt

If soft vore/endo or m/m is not your thing, leave now.  These characters are my own creation.  Do not steal or copy.

The rain resumed, a light misting that promised an encore to last night.  Some of the mud spattered people cursed the rain, while others, sporting bandages and weary eyes, slumped under the damp weather.  En masse, the Devi party dashed to the laundry tent which was actually an extension of the local Dime Wash.  Volunteers in bright neon vests passed out flimsy ponchos to those waiting in line.  Will took the one offered to him and tossed it over the luggage Louis lugged behind him.  

Will took a sideways glance at the blond, trying to get a look at his left hand but Louis had it shoved in his jacket pocket.  It was still unnerving to see Louis' eyes, but he couldn't decide if it was because he missed the shades, or if the dark tinted contacts weren't the norm.  The dark circles under them were more pronounced, and a wrinkle had started to dent into his forehead.  Had that been there yesterday?  

Ram bade everyone to wait in the entrance with the lines of people while he searched out Mary in the back.  Massaru, holding the packed basket, let his wife take the only seat available while Louis and Will lingered at the entrance, keeping a lookout in case Sandra did find a way to follow them.  Most of what they saw was injured people being led to a medical station.  

Louis' face hardened as he talked low to Will.  "People have lost their homes, some lost family members, and these people are concerned that the whites stay white?"  

"It's a creature comfort.  It makes the chaos seem a little more bearable," replied Will.  He gestured to the volunteers handing out canvas bags of bottled water and donated t-shirts and shorts to the mudslide victims while they changed in hastily strung up changing rooms.  "They're a mess, literally.  After a day of being cold, hungry, and lost, wouldn't you want something warm and clean to change into."  

"I've had to make do without creature comforts at certain times," said Louis.  

"Not all of us are former soldiers."

Ram emerged from the back room with Mary in tow, and looking no less frustrated.  

Mary was a short woman with long brown hair that in many ways reminded Will of Rachel, the determination of a computer guided missile.  Except her determination was currently in making sure the washing machines kept working and the detergent didn't run out.  Meeting her boyfriend's father while damp and frazzled hadn't improved her spirits.  

"Hi, I'm Mary."  She grimaced apologetically, shaking Massaru's hand.  "I'm sorry you could only visit when we're not looking our best."  

Massaru pulled Mary hand into a quick hug, surprising her.  "You are helping people in need.  To me, that is everyone's best look."  He stepped back and smiled.  "What can we do to help?"  

Mary and Ram brightened.  

Louis leaned towards Will.  "What did he mean, "we"?"  

"I'm guessing we're going to get our hands dirty."  

"In a Laundromat?"  

"Okay, we're getting our hands clean."  


***


The smell of peppermint alerted Nate before the knock on his office door did.  Though his nose leaked like a sieve, he could smell things now.  That was an improvement.  

"Hey, Franklin," greeted Nate.  "Got the addresses?"  

Franklin moved the candy cane to the side of his mouth, talking around it like a gangster in a black and white movie.  "Yep.  Not that hard really."  He held up a handful of papers.  "I also got a list of previous orders."  

"Thanks."  Nate handed him the bomb analysis.  "Could you get both of these to Cetz's office?  I'm still working on an outline for Meg and Teeg."  

"Sure."  Franklin paused by the doorway, a grin that made the candy cane tilt up.  "You sound better; not so stuffed up.  Did you take my advice about the bottle of peppermint extract?"  

"No, worse.  Whatever you do, do not let Rachel try to cure your cold."  

Franklin's candy cane tilted to the floor.  "Ech.  I'll keep that in mind."  

Five minutes, and a stop to see the latest Youtube remix by Surveillance Tech later, Franklin set the reports on the desk in Cetz's empty office.   


***


"I'm telling you, best fashion show ever," said a vapid college girl that took up folding clean shirt next to William.  "But good luck getting the show here with the power down.  If I miss this week's voting I won't be able to show my face on Facebook."  

Will wanted to grimace, but instead nodded patiently, making sure the stack of clothing matched the numbered tag with the item descriptions before putting it into a bag with bottled water and emergency numbers.  Sweat trickled down his neck and wetted the ends of his hair.  The room was overly warm, smelling of soap and fresh rain that didn't come from a fabric softener and the light from the foggy windows was muted.  Probably better for Louis' eyes anyway.  

They had been assigned to return laundry, amongst the many other volunteers folding articles of clothing, and the occasional stuffed toy.  The mountain of laundry never ended, warm baskets coming in every fifteen minutes to be sorted and folded.  Louis was at the other end of the table, hidden away by the fashion enthusiastic student, but still in line of sight of all exits and the one window to the outside.   Parvati and Massaru kept to the side of the massive washers while talking to Mary and Ram.  

"Did you see the last episode?  Wasn't it so dramatic?"  

"I'm sure it was," replied Will.  "But I'm not a fan of fashion reality shows."  

"But it has something for everyone!" she insisted.  "This week it's all about making outfits out of recycled materials.  Gawd, I wish I could be there for the runway.  San Francisco must be going crazy."  

No crazier than it is here, thought Will.  

Mary stopped by the table.  "Carol, could you help bring in the extra detergent from the loading dock."  

"'Kays."  

Will smiled and Mary nodded back, returning to Massaru and company.  Once the girl was gone, Will could breathe easier.  Or at least he tried.  He hid a pained wince under a cough as his abdomen ached and he tried to stretch his arm so it didn't feel so stiff.  Oh, why did he leave the bottle of Advil back at Massaru's house?  Perhaps he could take a quick break over to the medical tent to get his stomach and arm looked at.  And if he could play his cards right, painkillers.  Good painkillers.  Painkillers that would let him sleep without dreaming.  

Will cut that train of thought off before it could pick up steam.  He didn't want dependence on sleep aids.  He didn't need drugs, he needed sleep.  Preferably without nightmares.  

The last time he had slept that soundly he had been curled up on Rachel's cot, Louis still and sound inside him.  Warm.  Assuring.  That wasn't going to happen anytime soon.  Not that he could sleep on the job anyway, especially with Sandra Pearl still out there somewhere.

Will scooted his stack of clothes closer to Louis.  The blond kept his left hand cupped, barely spreading the fingers as he clumsily folded over the sleeve on a blue shirt.  Pausing, Louis rubbed at his eyes.  

"Don't rub," said Will.  

"Don't talk," said Louis, grimacing, but pulling his hand from his dark eyes.  "How long are we going to play the help?"  

"Sorry if there isn't enough action for you," hissed Will.  "Considering all we've been through so far, I appreciate the break."  

Will took the lopsided pile of shirts from Louis' side and refolded them.  "And speaking of breaks, you need to get your hand looked at."  

Louis snagged one of the shirts back, forcing himself to use his left hand and open the fingers.  "It's fine."  

"Your hand is about as fine as my stomach," said Will.  

"Last I checked, that was fine too."  

Will stood still; hand halfway down a wrinkled sleeve.  He couldn't expect Louis to understand, he hadn't seen the darkening bruises on Will's middle.  But his partner should at least sympathize.  "So you're just going to stick with that story?  That everything is just fine?"  

"Yeah."  

"Fine."  

"Fine."  


***


Once his father and company assimilated into the cycle of folding clothes and stuffing bags, Ram offered to take their collective luggage up to the apartment.  William and Louis in their own moody corner seemed about to protest, but his father spoke over them.  

"Good idea.  Take Mary with you."  Massaru winked.  "I know you want some time alone."  

Could his father's be any less subtle?  If he thought now was a good time to pull out the ring and get down on one knee, he was wrong.  But Ram nodded to the idea of taking Mary.  He had been meaning to talk to her anyway.  

Mary led the way to their apartment, William's poncho covered luggage trundling along behind her, as he followed with his father's bag and mother's basket.  Outside the misting got stronger, making everything seem more grey and brown, as if concrete was eating away at the trees.  Or what was left of the trees.  People in reflective yellow vests dragged fallen branches to the sides of the roads, like corpses in wartime photos.  The lines around various Red Cross tents and police cars seemed less chaotic when they were a block away.  

A prescription bottle rolled towards them on the sidewalk, hastened by the wind.  A flustered man in a red flannel shirt ran after it, a ripped plastic bag in hand.  Mary stopped the bottle with her foot and handed it over.  

"Thank you," the man said with a sigh.   

"No problem."  

"I don't suppose you know where I could find a decent cup of coffee?"  

Ram pointed down the way they had came.  "If Red Cross is out, the corner convenience store still has electricity.  Past the tents and to the right on Wisteria.  Can't miss it."  

The man nodded and jogged away.  Overhead the grey clouds rumbled.  Ram and Mary picked up the pace.  

"I like your dad," said Mary, smiling back at him as they tried to jog and failed.  It was a genuine smile born despite the rain and stress and her frizzed hair.  

"Good."  Ram nodded.  A lot of people liked his dad; even the previous victims of his curry eventually warmed up to him.  After they had cooled down from burning mouths.  "He's a likable guy."  

"And I had no idea he liked Telemundo."  

Ram blinked.  "That's new."  

"He told me while you were helping with the detergent spill.  And what's the deal with his coworkers?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about."  

The ducked under the eaves that sheltered the apartment entrance and let themselves in just as the rain fattened into heavy droplets.  Ram loved the building, old, yet not rusted.  The panes of glass around the door looked cloudy, until Ram realized they were cracked.  An attempt to break in?  Or the storm?  

"Talk to me about what?"  Mary held the door open for him.  

"I think William and Louis are bad news," said Ram, glancing around the lobby.  A few wet stragglers hung out next to the radiator, nursing hot cups given out by the volunteer tents.  

"What kind of bad news?" asked Mary.  "I was wondering if they were having a lover's spat."  

"What?  Erm.  No.  I mean I don't think they are who they say they are," Ram whispered, punching the button to the elevator and heard the faraway hum of gears and motors.  At least their building still had electricity and they didn't have to hoof it up three floors with luggage.  The elevator was as old as the building; slow, but reliable, the floor indicator fashioned of a bronze plaque with a dial pointing to the floor numbers.  

Mary frowned.  "Then who could they be?"  

The door opened and they both went in, using a little extra oomph to get Will's luggage over the space between floor and elevator.  The door closed and floor inched upwards.  

"I don't know," said Ram, his fingers tapping frantically on his father's bag.  "But I overheard them talking last night and they didn't talk like insurance assistants or medical engineers.  One of them mentioned a "self-destruct button".  I might be paranoid, but talking about bombs and being in the same place as the airport car bombing earlier is ringing a few bells.  And Mister Smiles just showing up at the café me and mom were at-"

"Mom and I," Mary corrected.

Ram pressed his lips together in a frown.  "Really?"   

Mary shrugged and ran her fingers through her frizzed hair, face pensive, lower lip sticking out.  The dial just passed first level of apartments.  "What makes you think it's not a coincidence?"  

"A gut feeling.  It's like looking at a bridge blueprint and knowing it's going to collapse the moment a semi-truck goes over it."  

"Okay."  Mary nodded.  "Have you talked to your dad about it?"  

"I tried to last night, but he kept changing the subject."  And always back to why he delayed his proposal to Mary.  The ring box stuffed in his tackle box up in the closet could wait, but he didn't know how long she would.  "Dad doesn't talk details about work, especially for the last two years when we did get contact from him.  I'm starting to think maybe he got involved in something too big and is now under protective custody or something like that."  

Mary shrugged.  "What if—"  

The elevator rocked with the boom of thunder, and then went dark.  The squealing of the gears went silent.  Mary's hand shot out to Ram's wrist as they stood there waiting for the gears to start up again, for the light to come one.  Nothing.  

"Shit."  

--Continued in Part 24