Enemies Part Seven

Title: Enemies Part Seven
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.


Dom glares at the uniformed cop on his doorstep.

"What?"

"We got a call, sir. Someone reported a disturbance at this address."

"They were mistaken. Everything's fine, no disturbance here."

"You're bleeding," the cop notes, his tone flat and matter of fact.

Dom looks at his hand, wipes it on his shirt.

"I cut myself."

"How?"

"On some broken glass."

"Broken glass?" the uniform rolls his eyes in disbelief, "I've heard that one before. I think I should come inside, take a look around."

The blond blocks his path.

"You can't do that."

The uniform taps the badge at his breast.

"This says I can, and it's never wrong."

"Nice badge," Dom holds up his uninjured hand, "but it's not as nice as mine."

The other cop looks at the gold shield in Dom's hand. He steps back, swallows audibly.

"I'm so sorry, lieutenant," his tone now soft and respectful, "I didn't know you."

"It's okay, you were just doing your job."

"You're sure you're alright, sir?"

"I am. I dropped some glasses, cut myself trying to pick them up, that's all."

"Well, if you're sure - "

"I am. Have a good night."

"Thank you, sir. You too."

Dom shuts the door and goes back to the mess. He was calm when he left Matt bleeding on the floor. Calm as he climbed out of the brewery. Calm on the drive home - and if his vision was sometimes blurred as he drove, well, that was just stress. He wasn't crying, no, he most definitely was not crying.

He was calm, calm, calm ... right up until the moment he smashed every plate, cup, bowl and glass in his kitchen.

Dom kicks a path to the sink. As he washes the blood off his vision begins to blur again. He wipes the tears away and goes in search of a bandage for his hand and a broom for the mess.

*************************

Dom stumbles through the next two weeks. He can't stay in his bedroom, too many memories of Matt, so he moves to the spare room. He gets up, goes to work, says and does all the right things. He even takes couple of coffee cups and some paper plates from the station to replace the ones he broke. But he's barely holding it together, just one wrong word away from a four-alarm meltdown. An argument with the guy he hired to change his locks almost ends in a fistfight.

He can't go on like this. A break, some time to himself, that's what he needs. He takes five weeks worth of vacation and sick days. He comes home on his last day, sits on his couch ... and wonders just how in the hell he's going to fill five weeks.

He could go see his parents. It's been a long time and it would be good to spend some time with them. It would be good for all of a day, two at the most. Then it would start, all his father's jabs at his chosen profession, the lectures about how he's wasting his life on a career that's beneath him. Those are bad, but his mother's routines are even worse. When is Dom going to settle down with a nice girl and give them grandchildren? Well, he could try being with a girl, it never hurts to try. And, of course, the ever popular, "have you tried not being homosexual?"

No, visiting his parents never ends well. Better to stay where he is. And that's just what Dom does. He spends three weeks lying around his house, not answering his phone, only going out when he needs food. He lies on his couch, drinking wine and listening to the music of pale young men who died far too young: Nick Drake, Elliott Smith, Jeff Buckley.

He drinks, he listens to music and he aches for Matt. Nothing has ever hurt like this, not even his split with Peter. Oh, that one hurt - but it was also kind of a relief, like having a rotten tooth pulled. But this thing with Matt is a pain like no other. No amount of alcohol can numb it.

The fourth week of his vacation rolls around and a virus pays a visit. Dom lies in bed, sweating and moaning as everything that isn't nailed down comes out, one way or the other. Four days' worth of this finishes him. He lies in his own filth, too weak to even contemplate rolling away from the worst of the mess.

Lying there helpless, he begins to hallucinate. His fever-fried brain imagines Matt, leaning over him, pressing a cool hand against his brow, giving him water. Then dream-Matt is lifting him and carrying him into the bathroom.

The cold tile against his cheek brings him halfway back to reality. There's a click and then a thousand hot, sharp needles are piercing every last inch of his skin. Dom shrieks and tries to twist away from the water, but Matt climbs into the shower and holds him in place. The cop's pleas are ignored. Matt holds him down and washes away the mess. He even squirts some shampoo into his hand and washes Dom's hair.

Matt takes him out, dries him off and wraps him in a couple of dry, fluffy towels and a bathrobe. He deposits Dom on the toilet seat and goes back to clean up. Dom runs his tongue over his teeth and grimaces. His mouth feels like an open sewer. When Matt comes back he finds the cop clinging to the sink, fighting for balance. He catches him just as he loses his grip.

"What were you trying to do?" Matt asks in a worried, scolding voice.

"I need to brush my teeth."

"Alright."

Matt holds him steady as he brushes his teeth, washing away the foul taste. Then he's brought back to his room - not the spare room, his bedroom - and slipped between cool, clean sheets. Matt lies down beside him and strokes the back of his neck. It feels good, but Dom twists away from it.

"What are you doing here, Matt?"

"You've been in here for nearly a week without so much as a beer run. I was worried."

"So you're stalking me, now?" Dom winces at the memory of his changed locks, "and breaking into my house?"

"There's just no end to my awful crimes."

"That would be funny if it wasn't true. What's all this for? Did you run out of pictures to laugh over with your friends? I hope you got some good ones before you cleaned me up."

"I lied."

"About what?"

"I never told my friends about us. I never told anyone about us. Everything I said that night was a lie."

"I want to believe that, but how can I? How can I trust a single word you say? You could be lying to me right now."

"I could, but I'm not. What we had was real and we both know it. I couldn't fake what I felt for you, what I still feel for you. I'm just not that good an actor."

Dom sighs, a sad, hurt sound.

"So why did you do it, Matt?"  he looks back over his shoulder, "why would you hurt me like that?"

Matt is silent for a long time. Dom has almost drifted back to sleep when the criminal finally explains himself.

"I'm good at what I do, very good. But I'm not an idiot and I know that just being good isn't enough. Half my success is based on luck, and all that stands between me and a prison cell is one false move, one bad day. I had a bad day once and it cost me eight years of my life. I have another one, it'll cost me the rest of my life. And I love you and I don't want to drag you down with. So I drove you away."

"But you came back to me."

"I couldn't help myself. I tried to stay away, but I just couldn't do it. I had to be near you."

"So we've both been lonely and miserable and fucked up for over a month."

"Right."

"And it was all for nothing."

"Right again."

Dom makes a rude sound.

"You really are an idiot, you know that, don't you?"

"I do," Matt agrees.

The cop's stomach growls, the sound loud enough to fill the room. Matt giggles for a few seconds before he can get himself under control.

"When did you last eat?" he asks.

"Uh..." Dom tries to think, "I don't know. Couple of days?"

"If I made you some broth, do you think you could keep it down?"

"I could try."

"Okay."

Matt gets off the bed and Dom squints up at him.

"Are those my clothes you're wearing?" he asks.

"Do you mind? Mine got dirty when I carried you to the bathroom."

"Of course not. What's mine is yours."

Matt smiles at that, then leans down and kisses Dom's temple.

"Try and rest. I'll be back before you know it."

"There's no food in the kitchen."

"There never is. I'll go to the all-night market."

He leaves and Dom drifts. He doesn't sleep, but he does doze until he hears Matt, coming upstairs. He sits up as his erstwhile lover comes in with a towel slung over one shoulder. Matt holds up a plastic tupperware box and Dom can see a spoon sticking out of it

"This was all I could find. What happened to all your plates and bowls?"

"I smashed them."

"Smashed them?"

Dom shrugs.

"I was in a bad mood. I needed to break something."

"Breaking my face wasn't enough?"

"Apparently not."

Now it's Matt's turn to shrug. Then he smiles.

"No great loss, you never used them, anyway."

"You saying I'm no good in the kitchen?"

"Well, put it this way, I'm surprised you didn't die of scurvy before I came along."

"I can cook," Dom protests.

"Hate to break it to you, Dom, but throwing things in the microwave and pushing a button doesn't count as cooking."

"I don't just use the microwave."

"Ordering pizza doesn't count as cooking, either."

"I know that. But I cook, I cooked us that steak that time."

"Oh, that had been cooked? I thought it had been beaten into submission."

Dom pouts.

"Go ahead, make fun of the sick man."

Matt laughs.

"I'm sorry."

He spreads the towel on Dom's lap and gives him the box. Dom takes one cautious spoonful of broth. His stomach sits up and begs for more. And Dom is happy to give it, spooning broth into his mouth in a frenzy until Matt puts a restraining hand on his arm.

"Slow down, you'll make yourself sick."

"Sorry. I'm just so hungry and it's so good."

"Just take it slow."

"Okay."

Dom looks down at the box, which is already half-empty.

"How did you get to be such a good cook, Matt?"

"My mother taught me."

"Mother?"

"Yes, Dominic, my mother. I do have parents, you know. I wasn't raised by bank-robbing wolves."

"I never said you were. But I've read your file, many times. Your parents are never mentioned. It's like they don't exist."

"Technically, they don't. Not anymore. Not since my arrest."

"I don't follow."

"My crew took care of it. New names, new lives, far away from me."

"Do you ever see them?"

"No, it's too risky. I don't want to mess up their lives anymore than I already have. It's better this way, better for all of us."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do. I'm just no good for the people who love me. Why do you think I tried so hard to drive you away?"

"And look how that turned out."

"What can I say, I lived through one heart-breaking separation, I thought I could live through another. I was wrong."

"Yes, you were."

"That's been known to happen from time to time," Matt sniffs, "finish your broth before it goes cold."

Dom finishes it and Matt brings him some water in one of his stolen coffee cups. The cop finishes it and yawns.

"Think you could sleep now?" Matt asks.

"Yeah."

"Then I'll leave you alone."

Matt walks to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be on the couch. Call me if you need anything."

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't go. Stay," Dom pulls back the covers, "stay with me, Matt. I sleep better with you beside me."

Matt smiles softly.

"Okay."

He strips, turns out the light and climbs into bed. Dom sighs, content, as Matt spoons him. He reaches down and squeezes Matt's hand.

"I love you, too, Matt."

*****************************

Three weeks later Dom's standing on the street as night comes down, waiting for Matt. He sees himself reflected in the window of a passing car and he wants to laugh: who is this stranger in the tuxedo?

The tux arrived this morning. It had a note pinned to it, telling him to be at this very spot at this very time. Dom had his doubts, but finally decided to just go along with whatever Matt's got planned.

Dom is checking his watch for the second time when a limo glides up and stops beside him. The window slides down and Matt smiles out at him.

"Get in."

"Dom stays where he is.

"What's going on?"

"I'm treating you to a night out. Come on, Dom, trust me."

Dom still has doubts, but gets in the limo anyway. He rubs the seat, the leather softer than he ever could have imagined. He looks at Matt, clad in a tuxedo of his own.

"What are we doing, Matt?"

Matt hands him a glass of champagne.

"I told you, I'm treating you."

Dom sips him champagne thoughtfully.

"Okay. But what's with the fancy clothes, the fancy car?"

"We've done a few of my fantasies, I thought it was time we tried one of yours."

"Mine?"

"Yeah, you remember how we watched that movie, No Way Out? And you said you'd like to try the limo scene sometime?"

Matt gestures at his tuxedo.

"I know I can't rock an evening gown like Sean Young, but ..."

The cop licks his lips, his pants already getting uncomfortably tight.

"You look great, good enough to eat," he says, voice husky.

Matt smiles, scoots closer and plucks the champagne glass from Dom's fingers.

"Well then," he purrs, "I think it's about time we had some mind blowing make-up sex, don't you?"

They've spent every night of the last three weeks together, sleeping in the same bed. But all they've done is cuddle and exchange chaste kisses without so much as a hint of tongue. They haven't gone any further and Dom was beginning to think they never would, that they'd lost that spark forever.

He's never been so happy to be proved wrong.

Oh, how he's missed the taste of Matt. They lick and bite at each others lips and paw at each other like a couple of hormone-addled teenagers in the back seat of Daddy's car. Dom throws his head back as Matt pulls apart both halves of his open shirt and goes to work on his bare chest.

"Tell me what you want," he mutters into Dom's nipple.

"I want your mouth on me," the cop gasps.

Matt smiles up at him.

"Your wish is my command."

He opens Dom's pants and pulls them down. And then his mouth and tongue are on the cop, all over him, doing all the things he knows Dom likes. Dom's sweaty palms skate over the seat as he watches Matt's head move up and down. He can feel himself approaching the point of no return, and it takes every last scrap of his self-control to pull Matt off him.

"Not ... like ... this," he pants, "want ... need ... to be inside you."

Matt licks his lips and smiles.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Matt is soon lying on his back, naked from the waist down. Dom looms over him, all lubed up and ready to go. The tip of him nudges Matt's entrance.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yes, God, yes," Matt moans, "fuck me, Dom."

They both gasp as Dom slides in. Matt looks up at his lover, eyes dark with desire.

"Hard," he begs.

"Hard," Dom agrees.

Hard it is, hard and fast and rough. It couldn't be any other way. It's fast and rough and utterly perfect. Dom watches Matt's face as the crook shudders through his orgasm and he knows, this is it. This is the only man he could ever want.

It ends, as every good thing must and they hold each other and listen to the purr of the limo's engine as the driver guides it through the city streets. Dom kisses Matt's sweaty hair.

"What now?" he asks.

"Now we get dressed."

They clean themselves up as best they can and pull on their rumpled tuxedos. Matt pushes a button, the partition separating them from the front seat slides down and Matt speaks to the driver, telling him their ready for dinner.

Dom is expecting a restaurant, but when the limo stops and Matt guides him out he finds himself in front of what is easily the most expensive and exclusive hotel in town.

"You can't be serious, Matt."

Matt takes his lover's arm.

"I can. I am. Let's go, dinner's waiting."

The crook leads the cop through the hotel lobby and into the elevator. Matt pushes a keycard into a waiting slot and the elevator begins to rise. Matt looks up at the camera and turns to Matt, worried.

"Are you sure this is safe, Matt? Us, together in public?"

"It's safe, I've got someone on it. He can do things with technology you wouldn't believe. That camera can't see us. We're not here. We never were."

The elevator stops and Dom follows Matt into the penthouse, which is at least three times bigger than Dom's house, and a hell of a lot fancier. A table has been prepared and a cart full of food stands beside it, all the things Dom loves.

"This is too much, Matt."

"No, it's not. Come on, let's eat."

They sit down to dinner and Dom eats more than he ever has at one sitting. When they're finished Matt tugs him to his feet and begins to undress him. Dom protests weakly.

"I can't have sex now, Matt, I'll explode!"

"Who said anything about sex?"

Matt finishes with Dom's clothes and quickly sheds his own. He takes Dom out onto the terrace, where a hot tub and another bottle of champagne await them.

Dom doesn't even try to protest. He gets into the hot tub and Matt settles behind him. They sip champagne and Dom hums as Matt's free hand strokes up and down his chest and stomach.

"You know, it could always be like this," Matt says.

"What are you talking about?"

"We could quit. No more cops and robbers. Just you and me. Together, the way we should be."

"How would we live?"

Matt giggles.

"Has the champagne rotted your brain? How do you think we'd live? I've got plenty of money, more than we could ever want."

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere. I don't care. I just want to be with you."

"But you love robbing banks. You live for that thrill. Could you really give it up?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to give it a try. For you."

Dom empties his glass.

"I need to think about this."

"Don't take too long," Matt warns, "the clock's ticking, Dom. For both of us."