Chapter Text
Shane Walsh knew where to get things. It was one of those skills that came with the territory of being a cop--the knowledge of where to get the best hamburgers in town or a reliable used vehicle or cheap uniform pants. On the other side of the coin, he also knew where to get bootleg DVDs and stolen guns and crack cocaine if he ever felt inclined to do any of those things (well, okay, maybe he’d bought a few DVDs).
One of the many things Shane knew how to get was a good whore. A quality babe with all of her teeth and no serious drug addictions that might lead to her robbing you blind or stabbing you in a fit of paranoia. One who did the job for a living and was in it for the long haul with regular testing down at the free clinic and a pretty strict condom policy. To the right person, he’d even admit that he’d taken one or more home on several occasions.
He only arrested the ones who were on serious drugs or who he suspected were working against their will and needed a ticket out. The rest, he left alone.
He was never one for busting people who weren’t dangerous in some way. It just didn’t suit him to take down a woman trying to make an honest living when some asshole one street over was cooking meth or trying to buy a kid online. That and he kind of liked knowing they were there when he needed them.
But tonight wasn’t about Shane.
Rolling past an ancient brick building with boarded up windows, Shane took a left. He knew the area well. Sketchy neighborhood or not, the working women had chosen their personal red light district strategically. A CVS around the corner meant 24-hour snacks and drinks. It also meant condoms and lubricant and a well-lit building with video surveillance if shit got out of hand. Next to the CVS was a run-down motel that rented rooms both by the night and by the hour.
Shane drove past both before rounding the corner onto a thin side-street with sparse security lighting. He slowed his vehicle and puttered down the pavement, practically motionless. A glance at his dash told him he was going 7 MPH.
The street looked abandoned at first. It always did until someone from the shadows glanced in the window and found a familiar face or at least decided that the guy in the car wasn't the murdering type. Then one by one, the workers peeled themselves from their dark corners and descended like some kind of sex smörgåsbord.
Shane’s car was surrounded in seconds by women dressed in everything from regular jeans to skirts so short he could already see they weren’t wearing underwear without even having to pay. He reminded his cock again that he wasn’t there for his own personal gratification before stopping the car and getting out.
“Hey there, Walshy,” a girl said. He knew her as Honey. He knew at least three quarters of them by name.
“Come to arrest me, Officer? I’ve been a bad, bad girl.” He watched Cassandra lick lips so red they could probably kill a man in better lighting.
“Gonna show us your night stick, baby?”
Shane smiled and shook his head.
“Not tonight, ladies,” Shane said. “I’m shopping for a friend.”
Shane leaned against the side of his car, eyes passing over each woman one by one. Rick had insisted that he not do something like this, that he was fine with Lori taking off out of blue. That after a year and finally giving up on her actually coming back, he was over it and just needed a little time before getting back in the saddle.
But Rick had been his best friend since they were shitting themselves in diapers. Shane knew what he needed and that was to sink his cock into a tight guilt-free pussy that came without any strings. Rick didn’t need to get back in the saddle at all. He just needed to be ridden fucking hard.
“They all say they’re shopping for a friend,” Candy said, winking at him. Shane looked her up and down, appraising. While he knew what Rick needed in theory, he had no idea what it actually looked like. He’d just felt like he’d know it when he saw it.
“Hope it’s that partner of yours. The one with the bow legs and the face made for sitting.”
Shane smiled again. One of his other favorite things about the working girls was that they were all fun as hell to be around. Not because they were dirty, but because outside of when they had to pretend for work, they didn’t fuck around with small talk and bullshit. He liked people who shot straight. Always had.
“Can you pretty ladies get under a light so I can see you?” Shane asked, looking around until his eyes fell on a nearby building. A dull yellow circle took up a pretty large expanse of the outer brick wall. It would have worked nicely for a spot to line all the women up if it wasn't for the man who stood dead center, his hands in his pockets.
“Think you might be neglecting another potential customer,” Shane said, jerking his head at the guy.
“You mean Daryl?” Honey asked. “No, Walshy, he works here too. Newest employee. Still on probie.”
Shane raised both eyebrows almost immediately. It wasn’t that out of the ordinary for men to sell themselves. He’d seen a couple of mug shots float across his desk over the years. But he’d never seen a male prostitute in the wild. He stepped closer, curiosity getting the better of him.
The guy immediately started bowing up as he approached, like a wild cat raising its hackles. The hands came out of his jean pockets, and it wasn’t lost on Shane why. He was ready to defend himself if he had to.
And damn, Shane was glad he wasn’t about to pick a fight. Training or not, those biceps would have meant a nasty bruise wherever the guy managed to land a punch.
“Don’t want no trouble,” Daryl said, giving him a once-over. An assessment of the potential threat. “Shit, you a cop?”
“Yes,” Shane said, giving him a once-over himself. Even straight, Shane could tell the guy had some nice features. The cheekbones. The eyes. Something in his gut said, this. This was what Rick needed. The Rick who had confessed he had a crush on Shane before the eighth grade dance. The Rick who he’d caught jerking off once to his Indiana Jones poster. The Rick who’d told him one night that he loved Lori deeply and would never cheat on her, but that it didn’t change who he was.
He'd told Shane he wouldn’t do it any differently than he had, but he still wished he’d had time to explore.
He had that time now.
“How much for the night?” Shane asked.
“Ain’t for sale,” Daryl said, his eyes skittering nervously from Shane to the group of girls behind him to the wall of the building on the opposite side of the street. "Just hanging out here. Ain't a crime."
“He won’t arrest you,” Cassandra said. Shane glanced back. The girls had joined him, probably curious to see what he wanted with the new guy. “Nice big dick too. You said you like those.”
Daryl visibly blushed, scratching at his neck nervously, his eyes trained on the sidewalk somewhere around Shane’s shoes.
“My dick won’t be there,” Shane said. “You’d be a gift for someone else. But I think his dick is probably pretty decent.”
Daryl chewed on his bottom lip for a second before answering.
“Usually $10 an hour, but I guess $100’s enough for the whole night,” he said, briefly making eye contact with Shane again without maintaining it. “Extra for some stuff.”
“Some stuff?” Shane asked. Rick was worth it. Even if all he did was fucking kiss the guy or hold his hand, if it helped at all, he would gladly pay triple what Daryl wanted.
Daryl brought a thumb to his mouth and worried at it with his teeth, the epitome of embarrassed to the point of not being able to answer. Shane couldn’t tell if he was just so new that everything still made him uncomfortable or if he was just laying the shy angle on thick. Some guys got off on that virginal shit.
“I gotta ask,” Shane said. “Want to make sure anything I think he’d want is paid for up front.”
“Shit and piss,” Daryl said. “Extra $50 for either.”
“He won’t want that,” Shane said. “Anything else extra?”
Daryl shook his head once before looking up at him again. “You allowed to arrest me even if you said you won’t?”
“Technically Honey is the one who said I wouldn't,” Shane said. “But I won’t. If these ladies are letting you hook here, you’re probably not up to anything that would actually make me want to.”
Shane looked back at the women behind him, inviting them to warn him if the guy wasn’t up to par. He hadn't caught any bad vibes from Daryl so far and his instincts were usually pretty spot on, but double-checking had never hurt anyone. He'd learned that much after all his years.
“He’s clean,” Cassandra said. “Doesn’t even smoke weed.”
Shane nodded at her, satisfied, and then turned back to Daryl.
“If you’re in, get in the car,” Shane said. He started walking back toward the sedan without even checking to see if the other man was following. Something told him that the universe intended for him to deliver Daryl to Rick that night. Something in the air felt electric, charged with possibilities like the atmosphere before a summer storm.
The word “fate” floated across his consciousness as he rounded the hood of his car, and he shook it off. Fate felt like too grandiose a word for something as simple as buying his friend a hooker. Still, the sound of his passenger door handle being pulled behind him made him smile more than it should have. Shane opened his own door and slipped into the driver's seat.
Rick was going to owe him big when Christmas rolled around.