Chapter Text
Stuart was always happy on days when he and OA were paired together. With Maggie visiting family, they were going to be riding together for the next few days, and Stuart couldn’t help being pleased. He loved working with Maggie, of course. She was amazing, and they got along well. But working with OA always sent a small thrill through him.
Until they were getting coffee while waiting to see if they’d have to go in, and Stuart’s phone rang.
The name on the screen was one he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.
“Scola?” OA asked from across the table. “What’s up?”
“Um. Sorry. I’ve… I’ve got to take this.”
He looked up and saw OA frown, clearly concerned, but he nodded.
Scola left the cafe to take the call outside.
“Stuart!”
“Jack, hey, what’s up?”
“I’m so sorry to call you out of nowhere,” Jack said, familiar voice filling Stuart with warmth. “I know it’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, it has. Are you okay?”
“Look, I really hate to do this, but I need a favor.”
__**__
Back in the cafe, Stuart sat heavily in his chair, mind still spinning from the conversation. It was always strange, trying to mesh his old life with his new one. Usually the distinction was clear. So when the lines blurred…
“Scola?” A large hand slid across the table, rapping the wood gently and bringing Stuart back to the present. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Sorry. Just… got a call from an old friend.”
“What happened?” OA looked so genuinely concerned, and… Stuart had to talk about it.
“That was a guy I used to know. His name’s Jack. He used to bartend at this… club I was a bit of a regular at. Apparently he’s been promoted to manager since then.”
He could see it in OA’s face, his attempt to factor this new information with whatever image of Stuart Scola he had in his mind. It didn’t take long, though, for him to recover. He nodded. “Okay, what did he need?”
“Somehow he heard I’m with the FBI now, and he asked for a favor. Apparently, men have been assaulted lately. They’ll get drugged at his club and then attacked. It’s happened three times now, and… he said the police aren’t listening.” It was hard to manage the words, the anger he felt threatening to bubble over. But he forced his tone to stay even. “He doesn’t know what else to do, so he asked for help. He knows I’m with the FBI now.”
OA hummed, thinking. “It can’t be an official matter. It hasn’t gone through the proper channels.”
“I know,” Stuart assured him. “And I was sure to tell him that. But I still said I’d help.” Finally getting it all off his chest, he took a sip of his coffee.
“So, when are we going?”
And Stuart nearly choked on his coffee. “Sorry,” he started, once he’d recovered. “‘We’?”
“Yeah. What, do you think I’m letting you do this alone?”
“OA, it’s… it’s a gay bar.”
OA paused for a moment, clearly not expecting that, but he took it in stride easily. “Okay.”
“You realize you’re offering to go undercover, in an off-books investigation, at a gay bar. Right?”
“Right.”
Stuart couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. “Why?”
“Becuase the alternative is you going under cover in an off-books investigation alone. It’s too risky.” Then he smiled an almost devastating smile and added “and besides: you’re my friend.”
The words made Stuart’s breath catch for a moment, his heart doing something funny in his chest. “Uh. Right. Thank you, OA. Really.”
“Don’t worry about it. So, what’s the plan?”
__**__
They talked it out, and made a simple plan. Based on what Jack had said, their guy always made his move on weekends, late at night. All of the victims so far had been very different in appearance, but all were on the smaller side, which made sense, as all victims had said the perp had practically carried them to where they’d been attacked. Unfortunately, they were all too out of it from the drug to get a good look at his face, or to know where they were brought.
From there, the plan formed pretty easily. Stuart and OA would show up at the bar around the same time, but keep their distance from each other. OA would find a spot where he could keep an eye on Stuart without drawing too much attention. Meanwhile, Stuart would hover at the bar and be sure to keep his back turned to his drink several times, making it easy for anyone to spike it. To try and stay safe, he was planning on wearing nail polish that would change color when in contact with drugs. All he’d have to do was occasionally get some of his drink on his finger somehow.
Between the two of them, Stuart hoped they’d see if their perp made a move on someone. Or, in the event he took the bait, Stuart would signal OA, pretend to drink, and then act like he was drugged, and OA would follow anyone that helped lead him outside.
It was too simple of a plan, Stuart knew. But with as little as they had to work with, it was the best they had.
And so, Friday night, he was trying to decide if any of his old club outfits would still fit, or even work on him now he was so clearly older. In the end, he settled for a fairly tight-fitting white shirt with a bomber jacket and fitted jeans. It wasn’t far from what he usually wore when trying to blend in at clubs for work, but slightly more designed to draw attention.
For a moment, he wondered if he’d draw OA’s attention, but he shook that thought aside.
He went to OA’s to pick him up so they could arrive at the same time, although they planned to stagger their entrances.
He wasn’t quite sure what to expect OA to be dressed like, but what greeted him was far from it. OA was wearing the tightest jeans Stuart could imagine, showing off his long, long legs. And under his leather jacket was…
“Is that a mesh shirt?” Stuart asked, trying not to laugh.
OA looked down at himself, and then down at Stuart. “What?”
“What is this, the nineties?” Stuart couldn’t help chuckling. OA looked good, that was for sure, but he wasn’t exactly going to blend in.
Nothing is going to help him blend in, Stuart’s mind pointed out, but he ignored it.
“I thought this was what people wore to gay bars.”
“What’s your source? ‘Cruising’?”
“What?”
“You know, Al Pacino?”
“How old are you?”
Stuart rolled his eyes. “Shut up. We’re gonna have to do better than this. Come on.”
He stepped into OA’s apartment and beelined for his room and his closet. He heard footsteps, OA wasn’t far behind.
The closet wasn’t very big, and Stuart stood in it for a moment, considering his options.
“You look good,” OA said from his bedroom, and Stuart smiled softly at the compliment.
“Uh, thanks. Not quite what I used to wear, but I figured it would do.”
“So,” OA started, and Stuart could tell he was tiptoeing into a topic he wasn’t sure how to broach. “I, uh, never knew you used to go to clubs.”
It was a loaded question, and Stuart considered his answer as he looked at some of OA’s t-shirts, trying to remember if he’d ever seen the other man wear any of them. “It was a long time ago,” he finally opted for. “When I was on Wall Street, and started to realize I hated my job. I just… always felt alone, and I figured that being around a bunch of people was the best cure.”
“And was it?”
Stuart had finally grabbed a few options for OA and went out to find OA sitting on his bed.
“Not really,” Stuart admitted. “I had fun, and met some good people, like Jack. But I realized after about a year of going out most weekends that it just wasn’t for me. I was just treating the symptoms, not the cause, you know? So I tried to focus again at Goldman-Sachs, I had hoped I would make it work. But when it didn’t, I decided to join the FBI.”
OA nodded, having listened to it all intently. After a long pause he added, “you also never mentioned going to gay bars.” The emphasis on the word “gay” was slight, but still noticeable.
It wasn’t hard to know what he was really getting at. Stuart had found a couple of outfit options and carried them out for OA to try on, not quite meeting the other man’s eye. “I’m not gay. At least…” he gave up and corrected himself. “I’m bisexual. So sometimes I went to mainstream clubs, and other times, gay ones. Just depending on my mood.”
OA was still sitting and looking over the options, but Stuart suspected he was thinking more than looking. He couldn’t help holding his breath, anxious for the other man’s response.
“I just never thought,” OA said simply. “I mean, now that I think about it, I don’t know why I would know. That stuff never comes up.”
“Maybe it should. Not for work or anything, just… because we’re friends.” He said the word gently, suddenly afraid of how it could be received.
But OA just smiled up at him. “You’re right.”
The smile made Stuart’s heart pound, but he did his best to ignore it. Meeting OA’s eye, though, he noticed there was something… different.
“Scola?” OA noticed his expression change.
“Are you wearing eyeliner?” It was hard to tell, OA’s lashes were already so long and thick and dark, but Stuart was sure they were more severe.
“Uh… maybe,” OA admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.. “I figure I should take it off, too?”
Stuart thought about it, taking in OA’s face. “No, leave it. It looks good.”
OA met his eye for a moment before looking away and standing up. “Right. I’ll… get dressed, then.”
“I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
Stuart left the room and found himself looking around in OA’s apartment, seeing what was on display on his shelves and coffee table. He had never spent much time at OA’s apartment, and he couldn’t help being curious about the other agent’s space. He was glancing through his DVD collection when he heard the other man leaving his bedroom.
Looking, he couldn’t help smiling. OA had opted for a gray v-neck t-shirt and dark wash jeans.
“Doesn’t that feel better?”
OA smiled, looking down sheepishly. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come on, let’s head that way.”
__**__
Stuart went into the Boilermaker first and found a spot at the bar. He ordered a drink to nurse for the night and started watching the people around him. Most were in groups or pairs, or came in alone only to find someone else soon. There weren’t many people on their own that he could see.
A few minutes passed, and he saw OA come in. He wasn’t the only one that noticed. He saw several heads turn, multiple appraising glances. OA didn’t seem to notice, all easy confidence as he grabbed a drink from the other end of the bar. He caught Stuart’s eye once and, when no one else was looking, winked.
Stuart tried not to react, but it took everything he had, the way his gut felt like it was in free fall at the wink.
But once he had a drink, OA went to a spot upstairs against the railing where he could keep an eye on the entire room.
It became hard, trying to watch the bar, knowing OA was both so close and so far, and keeping an eye on him. Stuart tried to keep to the plan, turning his back on his drink occasionally and then picking it up around the rim so he could let his nail touch the liquid briefly. But he kept finding his gaze drifting up to OA.
He wasn’t the only one. Every time he looked, OA had men around him flirting. He seemed to be letting them down easy, but Stuart kept catching flashes of smiles that twisted his gut.
This was a terrible, terrible idea.
Hours passed, and Stuart never saw anyone of interest. A couple of people sidled up to him, but took his “no” easily enough. Finally he caught OA’s eye and then took his leave.
He walked down the block to the corner where he and OA split up and leaned against a brick building, waiting for his friend. He closed his eyes and breathed in the cool night air, relieved to be out of the club.
“Scola?” Looking up, he saw OA approach. “You okay?”
“All good. Just glad to be out of there.”
“Yeah,” OA agreed. “Well, tonight may have been a wash, but maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow.”
“You want to come back?”
OA shrugged, like it was obvious. “Yeah? We aren’t done, are we?”
“So having a bunch of gay men hanging on you didn’t scare you off?” Stuart asked, voice lightly teasing, hopefully hiding whatever jealousy he couldn’t help feeling.
“Takes more than that to scare me,” OA answered. “And it really wasn’t that many.”
“Really? Every time I looked it seemed like you had a new admirer.”
He couldn’t help loving the way OA blushed softly, looking down at his feet.
“Come on, let’s head home. It’s late.” Stuart nudged OA lightly before starting towards their apartments.
__**__
Two nights passed the same. Stuart and OA both had people approach, but no one was overly suspicious. They never saw anyone seem to be led out, either.
Stuart was beginning to think they’d scared the guy off. He didn’t think he looked too much like a fed, and OA definitely didn’t, but maybe he’d given himself away somehow.
He’d just gotten a second drink from the bartender when someone came up to him, close to his space already.
“Hey,” the man greeted. He was fairly tall, probably 6’ 2”, and with curly brown hair. Stuart supposed he was attractive, if not his type: too obviously buff, the kind of muscle gotten in the gym but was useless for actual field work. The type that knew he was pretty.
“Hi,” Stuart responded, smiling back. He took a sip of his drink, looking at the new man over the rim of the glass and appraising him. Could he be the man they were looking for? It was hard to guess.
“Here with someone?”
“No, just here to drink.”
“Yeah? Seems like a shame.” His eyes roamed over Stuart’s body without any hint of shame, and he couldn’t help feeling a small shudder.
Stuart shrugged, hoping his feelings weren’t showing on his face. “Sorry.”
With a last lingering look, the man left. Stuart turned back to his drink and carefully picked it up in a way his nail barely touched the liquid.
The clear polish turned blue.
His eyes opened wide and he looked around. He met OA’s eye easily and nodded. OA was chatting with someone, and Stuart saw him start making his leave.
But when Stuart stood, he stumbled. The ground was uneasy beneath his feet. Gripping the bar, he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, but he could feel his heart racing.
Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit. When could he have been drugged? He tried to think, but his brain was growing foggier by the second.
The club was so loud suddenly, and so warm, and he couldn’t breathe.
Need air.
Stumbling, he made his way through the crowd to a door, pressing out into the back alley and gulping lungfuls of cold air.
And then there were hands on his arm.
“OA?”
It wasn’t OA. They were under a light in the alley, but the stranger was wearing a ballcap that cast his face in shadow. But he knew it wasn’t OA.
“Let me go.” He could hear his words slurring, could feel his body growing more and more limp. He was starting to struggle to stand. And his eyes were so tired.
Stay awake, a voice in his head was screaming. But he needed to close his eyes. Just for a moment.
He realized he was being led somewhere, his feet moving with barely any input as the man dragged him down the alleyway.
“Le’ go,” he tried again, but speech was so hard. If he could just rest his eyes, just for…
“Let him go!”
Stuart startled when he heard the loud voice from behind him. But he knew that voice.
OA.
He turned and saw OA leaving the bar and running towards them.
The grip on his arm disappeared, and suddenly Stuart was collapsing onto the concrete. He hadn’t realized how much support the stranger was providing until he was gone, and then his legs couldn’t keep him upright.
Just before he hit the ground, though, there were new hands on him, catching him under his arms. He looked around to see OA, and sighed in relief.
OA had him. He was safe.
But there was something wrong. OA wasn’t supposed to be there. Where was he supposed to be?
He remembered suddenly. “Ge’ ‘im,” he slurred, nodding towards where the stranger had run off.
OA helped Stuart to the ground carefully and moved around in front of him. “Scola? Are you okay?”
He nodded and tried to point again. “Go!”
For a moment he thought OA was going to, he turned and watched the man run away, but then he shook his head. “No, I’m not leaving you alone. Not like this.”
Part of Stuart wanted to argue, to say that this was their chance, that he would be fine.
But the rest of him only had the strength to fall forwards into OA’s arms before the world went dark.