A Glimpse Inside
by AR Moler
Brian isn't sure if he and Tristan are dating, but they're definitely seeing each other again. Tristan has always been quiet about his personal and professional life; Brian understands the latter; Tristan's job as a homicide detective doesn't make for light talk, but that doesn't mean Brian doesn't want to know more about Tristan. A little persistence goes a long way when Brian's brief foray into Tristan's home turns into a brief glimpse of Tristan's life and how he became the man that Brian can't let slip away.
If Brian Townsend heard the station play “Jingle Bell Rock” one more time, he was going to be sorely tempted to punch the car radio. It was the first of December and all the tacky Christmas decorations around the city had already been up for a couple of weeks in most places. The light dusting of snow that had fallen last night had already melted into a gray, icky, puddle-ridden mess and Brian wondered if he should have grabbed his duck shoes on the way out the door this morning.
Glancing at his watch, he calculated that he had roughly twenty minutes to make it to the parking deck, actually find a spot, and then get to the restaurant to meet Tristan for lunch. If he ended up being a few minutes late, he figured the detective would probably understand, although Brian was still trying to puzzle out exactly where he stood with the man.
The sex was great, bordering on amazing, but attempts to pry details of Tristan’s private life out of him were seriously less than successful. Then again, they had only seen each other a couple of times. The last time, Brian had eventually found out, Tristan had been preoccupied by the death of a child in a homicide case he'd been working. Brian’s job as an architect might have involved unreasonable deadlines and pissy clients, but there was never anything that dark in his work week.
Brian skidded through the door of the restaurant, literally. Wet floor, leather shoes, not a good combination. Could’ve been worse. The lady in the four inch heels in front of him would have wiped out, if not for a precipitous clutch at her date’s arm. Tristan was at a table near the front window and raised a couple of fingers in Brian’s direction.
Winding his way through the relatively crowded restaurant, Brian dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table from Tristan. Tristan was wearing a well-tailored dark suit, a white shirt and sedate tie.
“Aren’t you the conservative one today,” said Brian. Tristan gave him a slight grin.
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t pay to be anything less when you have to testify in court,” replied Tristan. “However I draw the line at paying more than five hundred dollars for a suit.”
“I’d rather see you without the suit,” said Brian.