Unwind

“See? We told you it’d be fun!” Michael Kennedy said, nudging his wound-up co-worker. “We shouldn’t have to bully you into coming out to unwind with us every once in a while, Lonny”

Unable to give more than a tense smile Milo Lonnit raised his shoulders and tucked into his barely touched drink. How long had he been out with them? About forty-five minutes… meaning he still had at least an hour before he'd be able to get away without having to hear about it the next day… Could he make it that long?

“Lonny,” Michael started.

“Please, don’t call me Lonny,” Milo interjected meekly.

“Whatever, Dr. Fruit-Cake,” Michael grumbled, words slurring. Letting his eyes drift to the table between them Milo counted the drinks that had been hastily consumed by the group before they split for various club activities; three glasses and a half-empty fourth sat in front of Michael. “What's your deal, anyway?”

“My deal?” Milo asked, teetering between confused and amused. Inebriated people had always fascinated him but he rarely got to converse with them.

“Yeah, y’know,” along with the rest of his drink the last of Michael’s pleasantries disappeared. “Why are ya so fuckin’ weird?”

For several moments all Milo could do was sit in a stunned silence, trying to process if he had actually heard the other man correctly or if a few sips of wine had impared him that drastically. Looking at the glass in his hand Milo figured his silence would either confirm what he had heard or give Michael time to change course. 

In the uncomfortable silence Milo’s eyes drifted to the others they had come with, as if they might provide some help. Of course they had come with others, he never would have accepted an invitation from Michael alone; they had never gotten along so how did he find himself sitting alone with the man? 

“You gonna answer or just sit there ignoring me?” Michael asked, snapping his fingers in front of the younger man’s face. Milo felt his nose wrinkle in agitation, an action that happened before he could stop it, and only served to enrage Michael further. 

“Hey, don’t make that face at me! You are the freak!” Michael’s voice began to rise. “I mean, look at you! Who wears bowties and suspenders anymore? What kind of man goes to a club and orders a glass of wine? What kind of man needs to be pestered onto a night out?”

Even over the persistent noise of the club the raised sounds of Michael’s voice drew attention to them. Two of the women they had come with, a young woman named Cheyanne and an older woman named Shay, were quick to return and attempted to diffuse the situation. 

“Michael, sweetie, you’re drunk” Cheyanne said, trying to calm Michael with a pat on his shoulder before she turned her attention to Milo. “Dr. Lonnit, hun, are you okay?”

Before Milo could respond Michael was once more causing a scene. “Who the hell are you callin’ hun? You doin’ him? Is that why you wanted him to come? Huh!?”

“Shut up, Michael, you do this every time,” Shay scolded, giving Cheyanne a nudge with her hip. Taking Shay’s signal and leaving her unruly husband to the older woman Cheyanne took Milo’s arm and snuck him out of the booth. As they slipped away Milo could hear Shay and Michael bickering. “This is why people are talking at the station, Michael!”

“I’m sorry,” Milo apologized, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. “I didn’t mean to provoke him.”

“You didn’t provoke him, Dr. Lonnit,” Cheyanne sounded exhausted. She was such a beautiful woman, Milo could see why nearly every man at the precinct had some measure of affection for her. He often wondered how she ended up with such a brutish man like Michael. “I should be the one apologizing to you. He is cruel enough at the station but I thought he might behave in public.”

“So, it really was your idea for me to come along?” Something about the idea warmed Milo’s chest.

“Well, yeah,” Cheyanne smiled at him. “You seem like a nice guy but you are always so reserved I thought it might be nice to get to know you a little bit… sorry it went so sour.”

“... I’m flattered, really. No need to apologize,” Milo said as they approached the club’s doors. “I kinda figured it was going to happen.”

They stopped at the doors, Cheyanne frowning. “I’m-“

“Don’t apologize,” Milo stopped her, putting up a hand. When he heard the commotion start to move closer to them he knew he needed to take the chance of escape he was being offered. “See you tomorrow.” 

That night Milo returned to his apartment more resolved than ever; something needed to be done about Michael.

As he did every morning Milo arrived early to the Emryx City Police Department, chipper as he poured his morning cup of coffee and disappeared to his office to begin whatever case they needed his assistance on that day. He sunk into his work, letting the problems frolic through his mind as the questions danced with the knowledge he had obtained from his time at graduate school before combining into possible solutions he would jot down on the margins for later considerations.

On a normal work day Milo rarely received visitors unless they were dropping off paperwork involving a case and, seeing as he was already working on a case, he wasn’t expecting any interruptions. It was an interesting case; the Test Tube Killer was on their 5th victim, again with a new type of poison barely detected in the labs. So, when a loud bang on his door interrupted his mental magic he was startled, jolting and watching for a forelon moment as his favorite pen flew through the air before turning his gaze to see the ever scowling face of Michael enter.

“Lonny!” The single utterance carried with it every ounce of hatred his face portrayed.

“What is it, Michael?” Milo couldn’t hide his aggravation. He had grown used to Michael’s scathing comments whenever they passed in the breakroom or when they left for the night but he had changed his entire schedule to minimize interacting with the foul man. 

“What do you mean ‘what is it’? You know exactly what I’m here for!” Just like the previous night Michael’s raised voice rapidly drew attention. When Milo did nothing more than stare at him Michael continued, louder. “You tryin’a fuck my wife?”

“Excuse me?” Milo asked just before his words were echoed back, though in a much different, much more stern voice.

“Excuse me,” it was the captain of their precinct; Captain Rosin. His silver mustached mouth was pulled in a severe line, grey eyes narrowed furiously. “Both of you, in my office, now!”

Milo remembered opening his mouth to protest but luckily his mind was fast and he quickly clammed up just in time for Michael to loudly exclaim. “I ain’t done nothin’ to him yet!”

That was not the correct response.

In a hush both men were led across the station. Together, they were quite a sight; Milo’s coiffed orange hair and comically dapper style next to Michael’s messy auburn shag and rumpled appearance following their captain like chastised school children. The door to Rosin's office had barely closed when he turned on them.

“I’ve had enough of this!” Rosin snarled, moving quickly to his seat. Again, Milo opened his mouth but thought better of it. “This is the end of it, Kennedy! You’re done.”

“I said I ain’t done nothin’!” Michael cried, all bravado gone in the face of their irate superior. “Besides, he was hittin’ on my wife last night! Bastard had it comin’!”

“Shut up, Kennedy, you think everyone is hitting on your damn wife,” Rosin dismissed with barely a moment of hesitation. When Milo felt Rosin’s gaze move over to him he froze. “You okay, Dr. Lonnit? I didn’t realize until today, when Shay came to me, just how bad things had been getting.”

“Ah, I’m fine, you came just in time,” Milo said, trying to smile. “Really, he had been a minor annoyance at most.”

“Still, you are the best criminalist this office has ever had, we can’t afford to lose you over this idiot’s hot-temper,” despite Rosin’s open attack Michael sat silent, for once thinking about the consequence his words might have. 

“Mm,” Milo hummed, trying to think of how to respond. If he let this go through, he knew Michael would be transferred or fired and he’d never see him again. “How about him and I try to make amends? It might help us if we got to know one another better.”

At the proposition both men seemed shocked, staring at Milo as if he had just commited murder before them. Feeling his cheeks warm Milo turned his gaze to a nearby, and quite uninteresting, motivational poster that discussed the prospect of catching a sunset like it was a physically obtainable object. 

“Well, Kennedy? What are you going to do?” Rosin asked, granting Milo his silent request to duck out of further conversation. “This is your last chance. You two work something out or pack up your desk and be prepared for a new assignment.”

Michael nodded solemnly, heavy silence in the air. Outside of the office wasn’t much better; all eyes were on them as Michael followed Milo obediently back to his office, reeling from his long coming reprimand. Amused by the new obedient Michael, Milo opened the door to his office and stood aside to let him in.

“Fuck off,” Michael grumbled, glaring at him as he entered. “I’m only doing this to keep my job here. I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t need you to trust me. I just need you to behave,” Milo answered, flushing a bit at the brusque nature of his response. Where had his poise gone? Recollecting himself with a deep breath he adjusted his tie. “How about you join me for dinner tonight? Perhaps getting to know me on a more personal level might clear up a few of our issues?”

Taking a piece of paper he scribbled his address, frowning when he saw a glob of ink drip from the end of his pen; the skydiving incident had not left it unscathed. The low burning glare told Milo Michael accepted the invitation.

As Milo clocked out for the evening he knew he had to work fast to have everything ready in time, another challenge he enjoyed. Just as he had set out two glasses of wine there was a knock on his door.

Milo let Michael in without a word, locking the door behind him. The latter glanced around the small apartment with apprehension and distaste even going so far as to turn his nose up upon seeing his walls lined with bookshelves.

“Where the hell is your TV?” Michael asked, plopping himself on Milo’s couch before swinging booted feet up onto the tea table. 

“I don’t have a TV,” Milo answered, not missing Michael’s scoff when he brushed his feet off the wood. Picking up both glasses Milo was sure to offer the wine he had prepared especially for him. “You’re a detective, I’m sure you can ascertain my hobbies from a glance.”

Another scoff from Michael but he did not refuse the wine offered to him. “Only thing I know about you is you are a little sissy boy who drinks wine and researches crap all day long.”

“Fair enough, but I suppose the purpose of tonight is for you to get to know my hobbies a bit better, hm?” Milo sat himself in an armchair not far from Michael, close enough that he could see the other man’s face shift through a few expressions as he sipped at the wine he had been provided.

“This is strong shit,” Michael breathed. 

“Feeling light headed?”

“Kinda… what kind of wine is this?”

“The drugged kind,” Milo said, a dark smile gracing his features. He delighted when he saw Michael’s face contort. In an odd moment of manners Michael set the glass on the table before trying to stand only to fall right back. “Don’t bother. Like I said, we are going to get to know each other a bit better tonight.”

“Y… you son … ‘itch,” Michael’s words came slowly, as if he were speaking with a mouth full of pudding. Milo nodded, sipping his own glass before leaning in close to the other man’s face.

“It really is interesting how fast it kicks in, isn’t it? I’m playing with the dosage tonight. I really want you conscious for most of this,” Milo set his own glass down before heading towards the kitchen. Just under the sink was a bag, a stained white apron and well-worn rubber gloves inside with his favorite knife. Holding the knife Milo felt the same resolve flow into him that he did every time he held it.

“Well, the first thing about me is I am really into botany! Poisons, anesthetics, they are so fascinating. I’m always looking for ways to improve them. Some have started calling me the Test Tube Killer!” Milo called from the kitchen. Silence. Returning to the main room Milo found Michael slumped to the side, feet kicking gently as he tried to move. “Oh, so you do retain some control. Can you make noise? Normally they can’t make any noise.” 

Silence.

“Hm, I suppose I’m about to find out. I’m going to take my time and unwind with you.”