#purgation

It started to snow when Malik got out of his car. With a sigh he looked up to the dark windows of his apartment in the third floor and tried not to think about his cold bedroom and the leftovers in the fridge from last night.

It had been a short night with even less sleep and a long day. Their fourth victim had been found previously and the press was about to rip them apart. He couldn’t wait for the news tomorrow morning and the inevitable call to the Captain’s office. Slowly he dragged himself to the front door and unlocked it after fumbling for the right key with cold and stiff hands. His hair was already wet with molten snow. When he entered the stairwell he was greeted with darkness and an odd silence, even the tenant across the front door who usually listened to loud music at all times of the day seemed absent. Frowning, Malik tried to turn on the light with no result but for the empty clicking of the light switch.

“Fuck no.” he cursed under his breath and was about to climb the stairs to his apartment in darkness when suddenly someone blinded him with a bright flashlight. About to give the madman a piece of his mind, he was interrupted before he could even start.

“Oh Mr. Malik! I am so sorry! I left a note on your door, I thought I wouldn’t catch you before I leave.”

The voice of his landlady was unmistakeable. The elderly woman with round glasses and always a forgotten curler in her hair stood at the top of the stairs and pointed the flashlight at Malik’s face before she noticed she was blinding him and lowered it. She had the usual problems with pronouncing his last name so she had formed the habit of calling him Mr. Malik which was sweet enough to let it pass over. Malik wasn’t someone who would force old woman to take the time to learn his name when she could die at any given moment. And frankly, he didn’t care enough.

“Mrs. Rogers.” He greeted her and tried to leave the annoyance out of his voice. It was late and all he wanted was to take a hot shower and crawl under his sheets. “What’s the matter? Is there a problem?”

“Oh Mr. Malik, it is awful! A disaster!” The small woman took a step down and gestured with the flashlight in her hand, “The electricity! Gone! The whole house is out of it! No heat or hot water!” She was so flustered, Malik worried he had to catch her, should she fall down in her agitation. “Everyone left their apartments. It’s so cold, even my Whiskers can’t stand it!” Whiksers was Mrs. Rogers big, hairy Saint Bernard dog. No one knew why he was named Whiskers of all things, but also no one was there to judge. Either way, Malik felt like screaming. Of course this had to happen. To him, in December and after a day full of shit and difficulties, his home decided to go on a strike.

“Are you alright, Mr. Malik? Do you need me to call someone? Do you have a place to go? Maybe a hotel? It’s no problem, Whiskers and I can make up some space for you. You are such a skinny man, you probably would take half the space the good old Whiskers needs!”

For a horrible moment Malik saw himself tucked in by the elderly woman and her giant dog who’d lick his face and suffocate him with his thick fur. He also thought about sleeping in a cold apartment beneath three layers of blankets and no hot water or any way to make a hot soup or coffee. He quickly ran out of options, so he did the only thing he could come up with in this short time.

“No thank you. I stay with a… friend. No problem at all and thank you very much for the offer Mrs. Rogers.”

After helping  his landlady down the stairs and seeing her off with the dog in her small green car, he pulled out his phone and dialed the first number he could think of.

“Hello?” Altair’s voice was rough like he had been asleep or was about to do so.

“I need a place to stay,” Malik cut right to the chase. He was going to say no, Malik knew it. It had been weird since the kiss a few weeks ago. Not uncomfortable weird but so weird that they would only – and only! – talk about work related stuff. Neither of them had mentioned the kiss ever again even though Malik had thought about it. A lot. And not in the purely analytic way he would have liked to.

“21 Hemenway Street. Hurry up it’s snowing.”

Before Malik could reply anything, Altair had already hung up. Cursig under his breath, Malik sprinted upstairs into his ice cold apartment (Mrs. Rogers hadn’t exaggerated) and threw clothes, underwear and his toothbrush in a bag before rushing back to his car. The snowflakes got bigger every second and Malik didn’t waste any time.

It took him only half an hour to find the address Altair had given him and luckily found a parking spot not too far away. At the front door of the apartment complex he read the nameplates while rubbing his hands together. As if he had been waiting for him , it took Altair only one second to react to Malik’s ringing.

Malik tried to not sound too desperate as he hurried up the stairs, but he was just so glad to be out of the cold, his feet carried him on their own.

The first thing Malik noticed upon entering was the warmth. It was warm, and the light in the hallway soft, not like the usual glaring white light he often got attacked with when visiting friends or Kadar in his dorm. Second was the smell. God, it smelled so good. Food and something sweet. He wondered if Altair had cooked.

“Just leave your shoes here and come in. You’re bringing the cold from outside.” Altair leaned against the doorframe of what seemed to be the living room. Arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow slightly crooked. Carefully Malik closed the door and removed his shoes and coat and threw it over the chair next to the door where Altair’s well worn leather jacket rested as well. When he looked up again, Altair had already left but the door to the living room was slightly ajar, so Malik followed him and was greeted by the orange, flickering light of a dozen candles.

“Wow, romantic,” Malik said and wanted to bite his tongue the very same moment the words left his mouth. So much for ignoring the obvious problem between them and the purpose to never ever talk about it.

“Candles make the room warmer and it’s not as annoyingly bright as the ceiling lamp.” Altair’s dry answer undermined any awkward conversation that could have followed on Malik’s words, so he was glad. Really glad.

“Are you hungry? I made some chicken curry. Nothing fancy or what your delicate tongue is maybe used to.”

With a huff Malik put his bag down and glared at Altair. “I’m surprised you can cook or know to take care of yourself.” For a quick moment it looked like Altair had to smile but the moment was over when he turned around and went over to the kitchen that was separated from the living room by a long wooden counter with chairs.

“Nice place.” Malik followed him and took a quick look around. Everything was rather spartanic arranged. A brown leather couch with a fitting armchair. A small coffee table that was littered with files, letters and junk mail. The TV looked not much used, but he had a cabinet full of books. Curious, Malik looked at the titles and was surprised how well used the books seemed. He hadn’t thought Altair to be a big reader. Besides the counter, the kitchen had a small table and the usual furniture. And indeed, there was a pan with what seemed like freshly cooked food. Malik had a hard time imagining Altair cooking and reading and doing stuff normal people would do. And despite knowing him as a heavy smoker, Malik couldn’t smell anything or make out any indication that he smoked indoors.

“So don’t get me wrong but why exactly are you here? Did your significant other have finally enough and threw you out?” Altair took a plate and loaded a good amount of the chicken curry on it.

“Ha-Ha. Funny. Electricity went down in the whole complex. My landlady was so distressed about it. She wanted me to share a bed with her Saint Bernard.” That got him an actual laugh out of Altair and he turned around.

“So what? You decided against the warmth of a thick fur and came to me instead? I feel honored.”

Malik took the plate and followed Altair back in the living room where he sat down next to him on the couch and tasted a spoonful.

“This is good!” he exclaimed surprised and before he could hold back any longer, he wolfed it down like he hadn’t eaten something in days. Which was partially true, his last meal had been a toast with butter this morning. He had forgotten to eat. Again.

“Yeah, don’t sound so surprised. I am a capable man.” Malik threw him a doubting look over his food, but chose not to answer with his mouth stuffed full of quite the delicious curry. “You can take the bed by the way. I don’t mind the couch, I actually sleep more on it then in my bed.”

Glancing over he watched Altair propping up his legs on the small coffee table and let his gaze wander over his body. His assumption, Altair beeing asleep before he called him, appeared to be wrong. He still wore the jeans and shirt he had been wearing all day and a bed head looked different to Malik. Slowly he put the empty plate down and turned towards Altair, frowning.

“What have you been doing before I arrived?” A brief look at the files on the table. “Don’t tell me you read the damn files again! We agreed to get some sleep, so we could give it a fresh start in the morning!” Malik didn’t know why it agiated him so much, maybe it felt like he was slacking off, whining about a broken heater while young women were found dead around the city and Altair appeared to be the only one having sleepless nights over it. Frustrated he rubbed his tired face with both hands. “Forget it. Sorry. I am just tired.” When he glanced up again, Altair studied him with blank expression, only his eyes showed some emotion Malik couldn’t quite place. For a moment they just looked at each other until Altair broke the eye contact and moved to stand up.

“You wanna shower? I’ll make the bed for you in the meantime.”

Altair showed him the little bathroom and gave him a towel, before he excused himself and closed the door behind him. Glad to finally be able to bring back some warmth in his chilly bones, Malik stripped off his clothes and turned on the hot water.

With a sigh Altair leaned briefly against the closed bathroom door and listened to water hitting the shower floor. He really wanted to do it again. Ever since that late night kiss in the department, that had gotten rather hot in no time, he pondered on what could have happened, if not for the unwelcome interruption through a ringing phone on someones desk in the abandoned office. He wanted to kiss Malik again. The feeling of thick, black hair between his fingers wouldn’t go away, nor the sensation of Malik’s beard and lips when his mouth had wandered from Altair’s lips to his neck.

While walking to his bedroom, Altair rubbed the spot and tried to make the feeling go away. It didn’t work, just like in the past three weeks and their really healthy approach of ignoring the elephant in the room. They tried to act normal around each other and the kiss had never be mentioned again. Even though it stood obviously between them. Obvious for Altair at least. Before he took care of the bed, he quickly tidied up the kitchen and put Malik’s plate in the sink. It was pure luck that Altair had decided to actually buy something to cook that night. Would Malik have looked inside his fridge, he would have been greeted with the sight of a lonely milk carton and a sad piece of butter. Altair amused himself with the shocked expression on Malik’s face, he was fairly sure Malik ate lots of vegetables and his kitchen was most likely full of healthy stuff, like gluten free muesli and low fat yogurt.

The thought kept him company while he changed the sheets of his bed and quickly put away dirty clothes lying on the floor.

“Stop grinning like a creep when you do the bed for someone else. Do I need to call the police?”

Malik stood in the doorway, wearing a loose white shirt and and sweatpants. His hair was still wet and looked like black ink. Altair regarded him for a moment silently. He had never seen Malik so… casual before. While he looked in his black trousers, shirt and vest always sharp and to be completly honest, very elegant, he now looked like the guy you wanted to watch a movie and eat peanuts on the couch all night long. Damn attractive either way.

“Should I call the fashion police for that outfit? I’m shocked Detective Al-Sayf,” Altair retorted smugly and his grin got even wider when Malik eyed himself.

“Shut up.” Malik’s answer was curt and in Arabic. He took one step closer to examine the room. The walls were white, no pictures or any other personal items. A double bed, the sheets black and grey and a surprising big closet in black and white. A nightstand with a lamp next to the bed, apart from that nothing else.

“Comfy.” It obviously was meant to be sarcastic, but Altair chose to ignore that. He watched Malik, studied his face, the dark brown eyes that absorbed their surroundings. He wanted to kiss him again.

“So I’m actually pretty tired, long day you kno-“

“Why have we never talked about the kiss?”

The words were out before Altair could hold them back any longer. Malik froze, he looked like he was about to flee but decided against it. Well, now that the damage was done, he might as well put it all on the table.

“Isn’t that a little bit childish? We are both adults and we are Detectives, we should be able to handle difficult situations.” He paused. What was he even trying to say? Kiss me again? We should fuck? Let’s never do it again? Latter seemed like a bad option, even though it was the right one if they both wanted to keep their jobs and partnership.

Malik took a deep breath, then he slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me? It was just a kiss, things like that happen in stressful situations. It was a one time thing. Calm down.” Stone-cold, delivered like the logical asshole Altair knew Malik to be. At least that’s how he liked to present himself to the outside world. “Didn’t feel like “just a kiss” when you tried to lick all the way down to my shoulder,” Altair huffed annoyed with Malik’s put up walls. That got an honest reaction out of Malik, first he just turned red, like he was blushing, than he clenched his jaw and his eyes got all fiery and angry. Altair liked that Malik, the angry and passionate man that would speak up, not sugar coating anything, brutal honesty and no regrets.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Altair nodded. “That’s better. Cut that denying bullshit and talk to me.”

The impudence! Malik was so close to arresting himself because he would commit murder any second. But instead he took a step towards Altair and put his index finger on Altair’s chest.

“You selfish, impertinent son of a bitch! I won’t lose my fucking job because you suddenly get cold feet and wanna do “the right thing” and run to Rauf to tell him about a stupid fucking kiss!”

Surprised Altair blinked and rose one eyebrow. “Who said anything about going to Rauf?”

Now it was Malik’s turn to be taken aback. “What? Why else are you starting with the whole thing after three fucking weeks? Are you dim?”

Slowly blinking, Altair just stared Malik right in the face. Then suddenly he rolled his eyes in the most childish way that made Malik want to grab him and bang his head against the next hard surface.

“I think the only one dim here is you.” Malik wanted to protest, but before even one word could leave his mouth, Altair pulled him close and their lips crashed together in a rather awkward manner. He was frozen in place for what seemed like too long but it actually took him a mere second to respond to the kiss. His arms found their way around Altair’s waist and he pressed himself firmly against the the others body. Altair’s hand was roaming over his back while the other  found its way to his wet hair. A moan escaped Malik when Altair’s lips started to wander over his cheek and down to the crook of his neck. He could feel Altair smirk against it and decided to pinch the skin under his shirt, that he pulled ever so slightly over his back. Altair’s grin got only wider when he felt the fingers on his naked skin and he rocked his hips experimentally against Malik’s lower body.

Suddenly Malik grabbed him by the chin and turned his head forcibly towards him, so he could reclaim his lips and actually let his tongue slip in. This time it was Altair’s turn to let a small moan escape when he felt Malik’s hand on his cheeks and his tongue inside his mouth.

Malik was a good kisser. For a small, stupid second Altair felt jealousy creep in his heart when he thought about all the people he had kissed before. But then he smelled the spicey, pine-like scent of his own shampoo on Malik and Altair felt himself shudder at the thought of his partner showering and using his very own products.

What a primitive thought to have, Altair shook his head and laughed silently.

“What’s so funny?” Frowning, Malik noticed Altair’s shaking form and leaned away.

“Nothing,” Altair said, still grinning, “everything. You. You look beautiful.” His tone got softer and only a smile remained on his face.

Malik studied his expression, looked him in the eyes, when he suddenly turned his head and winded himself out of Altair’s arms.

“Shut up,” he mumbled and found his way towards the bed where he stopped, back still turned towards Altair.

“You know we should stop this. Things like this never end well.” His right hand came up and he unconsciously rubbed the spot Altair had kissed just a few seconds ago.

Altair regarded him silently, studied the black hair and the dark skin of his neck and arms. He wanted to kiss him everywhere. Touch him, watch him… feel him.

“Yeah we should probably stop.”

A step towards Malik who still looked at the bed and not at him.

“We should go to sleep, we have enough things to do in the morning.” Malik stopped rubbing the spot and let his hand drop beside him.

“You are right.” Altair closed his arms around Malik’s waist from behind und put his lips right under his jaw where he placed a gentle kiss. “Let’s not do it again.”

-

The curtains of the bedroom window were still open and Malik could watch the big snowflakes fall silently in the orange street light from outside. Tomorrow morning would be a nightmare, with streets covered in snow and traffic as slow as his brother in the bathroom. He actually enjoyed the snow, especially during the night time when everything was silent and, like his mother used to say, the snow was hiding the earth’s scars. He liked the thought very much. But only on a free day, when he could hide in his apartment and watch other people suffer through the white nuisance. At the moment, the snow would make things only more difficult. Unintentionally his thoughts wandered to the body they had found just this afternoon. A young woman in her early twenties, found in a forested area in the park. One day later and she would have probably not been found until spring, hidden under a thick layer of cold snow. How many bodies would go by unnoticed while children built snowmen and threw snowballs only a few feet away?

“What are you thinking about?” Next to him, Altair had his arms crossed under his head and stared at the dark ceiling.

“The girl,” Malik said and sighed. He turned around to face Altair who did the same by turning his head. They hadn’t fucked. Even though Malik had wanted to and Altair probably as well, they hadn’t. “What’s with her?” Half of Altair’s face lay hidden in the shadows while the other half was illuminated by the orange street light. It made him look aged and for the first time Malik could see that Altair had grown up on the streets. That he had been in prison. That he didn’t lived in a black and white world. “I was just thinking. After today we would have probably never found her.” Altair nodded but remained silent. He studied Malik with an unreadable look in his eyes, then he closed them and said when he opened them again, “But we found her. And we will find whoever did this to her and the other ones. No one will be forgotten.”

Empty words, said by so many before him, but as Malik looked into Altairs eyes he believed him. He believed in every single word Altair just said and with a tired smile he tried to let the tension in his body go. A hand touched his cheek and a thumb stroke his temple.

“Isn’t this much better that a big, drooling Saint Bernard in your bed?”

Snorting Malik closed his eyes and replied promptly: “I would swap you anytime for Whiskers. He could save me should I ever get buried under an avalanche. And he would keep me warm.”

“I have a few ideas how I could keep you warm, if you-“