20. Snow Over Tintern

TWENTY

SNOW OVER TINTERN

“Reed! Get your arse on the bus!” Blake called across the car park.

Scowling, Oliver repositioned the myriad of evidence bags, knife tubes and drug containers he had tucked under his arms. Sweat rolled down his neck as he sped up to a jog, which made keeping hold of everything ten times more difficult.

“Thanks for the assist, sarge,” He said, flinging everything into the back of the riot van.

“Oliver, the whole point of being an exhibits officer is that you keep everything nice and organised.” Nancy said, kicking a knife tube from under her seat.

“Then they shouldn’t have made me the exhibits officer, should they?” He snapped back.

“Ready?” Blake said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Oliver wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Let’s go.”

The sergeant smirked. “Oh, no. We’re still waiting for the other team. I just wanted to see you try and run with all those knife tubes,” he said, leaning against the van.

“This is workplace bullying,” he muttered, stepping onto the van.

Blake leant forward and patted his shoulder. “I’ve made it my mission to torment you as much as possible—while I still can. After all, we’ll be on even footing when all this is over.”

Oliver’s frown deepened as he got back off the bus. “I haven’t agreed to anything. The boss said?—”

“I know,” Blake cut him off. “But the Superintendent’s seen your records and heard about your good work on Op Sceptre. She’s recommending you for promotion. Personally.”

“The Super?” He said, gripping the edge of the sliding door. “We’ve exchanged maybe two words since she started. She barely knows me.”

Blake smiled, eyes flicking towards Lucas as he and the rest of the team approached from across the car park. “I know. But we do.”

Oliver glanced at Lucas—who was deep in conversation with another officer—then back at Blake. “But what if I’m not ready? I don’t… I haven’t managed anyone before. Can I still back out?”

Blake threw his head back and laughed. “What? You mean shit-loads more stress, no work life balance, and a fuck-ton more paperwork doesn’t sound appealing?”

Oliver grimaced and tapped the tip of his toe against the van step. “It’s not that, it’s managing people .”

Blake nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Eh, yeah. Managing you has been a sodding nightmare. I won’t lie.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No. I’m trying to make sure good people get to where they’re needed.” He dropped his head so the others couldn’t hear. “You’re wasted as a DC in child protection. It’s about time you did something about it.”

Why did people keep saying that? As though he’d be procrastinating his whole fucking life. But then an impish grin spread across Oliver’s face as he thought about the other person who had offered to ‘support’ him through promotion—so long as he could be wrangled into submission by a mate.

Oliver dropped his head and whispered, “Did it piss the boss off?”

Blake chuckled. “Royally,” he whispered back. “Oh, and Oliver? Sort out your shit with Lucas. He’s been sulking for days, and I cannot be managing this raid and your personal drama.”

Oliver grimaced as he stepped back onto the van, the soles of his trainers squeaking on the rubberised floor. The bus stank of the previous occupants—no doubt public order officers that had slowly cooked in their riot gear. He remembered those days in uniform well, and not fondly. The camaraderie had been nice, and man , he missed driving everywhere with his lights and sirens going. But lugging around five stone worth of riot gear on match days was the stuff of nightmares. Not to mention the jock itch caused by the fire proof underwear. Shit it made his balls tingle just thinking about it.

Having no desire to speak to anyone else on the journey to Tintern-on-Wye, he shuffled to the back of the van and slumped into a seat near the window. Hopefully, he’d be able to catch up on some shut-eye during the forty-five-minute ride to the next town over, because fuck , he was tired. The sudden and intense on-set of estrus had absolutely wrecked his body from top to toe, and he was regretting not taking a few more days off.

Perhaps he should go to the doctor—get some blood tests done, and his hormone levels checked because who knew what was going on with his body now? A few weeks ago, he’d been terrified by how his body reacted to Lucas, and all the sudden, unwanted changes. He’d felt alone, like a child wandering around in the dark, but now? Now the thought of losing what he had gained terrified him even more.

He wanted Lucas. Fuck, he wanted Lucas so badly it hurt. Letting out a long breath, he held his head in his hands. He’d made a real sodding mess of things.

“Late night, child protection?” A cheerful voice said.

Oliver looked up between his fingers as Sidney—the cock-sure Special Branch alpha from the dealership raid—slumped into the seat opposite.

“Something like that,” he replied, leaning back to look out the window.

“Same,” Sidney said, thumb brushing over the gun holster at his hip. “We had some crazy lady try to throw herself in the river. Absolutely off her tits on heroin.”

“Did you shoot her?” Oliver asked, only half joking because he knew how much firearms officers loved their toys.

“Nah, just stood on the riverbank with a water safety kit like an absolute lemon.”

The thought made Oliver laugh. “Did you shout, ‘releasing the floatation device?’”

Sidney chuckled, “Nah, more like ‘grab the floaty bit, you mad bitch!’”

“Wow. Such compassion,” Oliver drawled.

And he couldn’t help but notice just how differently Sidney was treating him—no more roaming eyes or suggestive remarks. He’d been present when Lucas unleashed the primal howl. Had it left that much of an impression?

The alpha’s face dropped as his gaze trailed upwards. Without a word, he stood and moved to the other side of the van, the smell of gun oil wafting after him. Oliver turned, vaguely aware of the van door sliding shut.

Lucas towered over him, one hand gripping the overhead handles, the other on the back of his seat. Oliver swallowed, sucking his lower lip. The alpha’s eyes darkened as they drifted to his mouth, then at the empty chair opposite.

“It’s free,” Oliver murmured, nervous energy twisting his gut.

As the van shuddered to life, some over-excited idiot sounded the bull horn, making him jump. Despite that, he did not break Lucas’ gaze as he watched the alpha slip into the seat. It was cramped and their legs touched, with Oliver’s knees pressed between Lucas’ massive thighs. The stab vest made the alpha look even larger than usual, and combined with the messy top knot, combat trousers and black boots he looked every inch the poster boy for Special Branch. And shit his arms looked fucking delicious with the sleeves turned up on his black t-shirt.

“Have you slept?” Lucas asked, voice so deep it made the hairs on the back of Oliver’s neck stand on end.

“No,” he replied, running his tongue across his teeth.

Lucas huffed. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“Something other than biscuits?”

Oliver tapped the toe of his trainer against Lucas’ boot. “Yes.”

Lucas returned the tap, and Oliver kinda wanted him to kick his arse in those boots. Without meaning to, he leaned forward into the alpha’s warmth, the faint scent of sweat and coffee making his nostrils flare. Lucas was not a coffee drinker, so he must have been running on fumes.

Feeling brave, Oliver tentatively traced a fingertip over the alpha’s wrist. “Long night?” He asked, voice low and unsure.

Lucas sighed. “Exceedingly,” he said, leaning forward so their noses were almost touching. Oliver huffed and brushed his knuckles up the alpha’s forearm. The hairs on Lucas’ arms reacted to the touch, leaving noticeable goose flesh across his skin.

“You can lean on me,” Oliver whispered.

“Can I?” He replied, squeezing Oliver’s legs between his knees. The possessiveness of the gesture made Oliver’s throat tighten.

“Y-Yeah.”

The van swayed as it rounded the corner; the overhead handles swinging rhythmically back and forth. Lucas let out a breath, before sliding his face down Oliver’s neck and into the crook of his shoulder. He inhaled, drawing in Oliver’s scent as though it were the last thing he’d ever smell.

The chatter from the other officers faded into nothing, as Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently pressing his fingers to the base of the alpha’s skull. He massaged the nape of his neck, drawing out a long, low sigh. “I’m sorry about what I said. And how I behaved.”

“Did you mean it?” Lucas replied, pressing his face into the space beneath Oliver’s jaw. “What you said that night?”

Oliver rested his cheek against the mess of black curls. “No.”

Lucas sighed, dragging his mouth over the scent gland just beneath his ear. “I want to look after you, Reed.” The words were almost pleading as he breathed against his skin.

With a tiny smile, Oliver kissed the shell of the alpha’s ear. “I want to look after you, too.”

Then he felt a pair of green eyes on them, staring like a curious child. Oliver slid his gaze to Sidney, who slouched like a lazy cat at the other end of the row. Propping his chin on Lucas’ head, Oliver curled his lip over his fangs and gave the other alpha a look that said ‘mind your own fucking business.’ The firearms officer quickly turned his gaze back to his phone.

Oliver returned his attention to Lucas, quietly clearing his throat. “At the risk of sounding like a teenager chatting up a boy on the back of the bus—” He rubbed the tip of his nose against Lucas’ cheek, “—would you consider going on a… date… with me sometime?”

Lucas smiled against his skin. “Reed, are you actually asking me out?”

Oliver grinned, pressing his mouth to the curve of the alpha’s ear as the little black hoop earring tapped against his teeth. “Well, I dumped you. It’s only fair that I make the first move.”

Kissing the edge of his jaw, Lucas said, “I accept.” And then he kissed his chin, his cheek and finally his lips. Oliver let out a playful gasp as he pulled away.

Heart aching, he wanted to tell Lucas that what he felt went far beyond lust or teenage fancy. He wanted him, needed him down to the very marrow of his bones, and that he’d been fucking insane if thought he could throw that all away. But it wasn’t the time or the place to let such vulnerable words fall from his lips. So instead, he cocked his head and said, “Exhibits officer?”

Lucas chuckled, his gaze dropping to a wayward knife tube rolling around the van.“Not my idea,” he said, thumb brushing Oliver’s knee.

Oliver dropped his voice to a sultry whisper. “Oh? And what position would you have had me in, DS White?”

Lucas ran his tongue over his teeth as though considering the question. “On your knees, arse up, face pressed into the mattress.”

When they reached Tintern-on-Wye, Oliver was so hot and bothered he had to crack open a window.

“Five minutes,” Blake called from the front of the van. Oliver caught the sergeant’s eye in the rear-view mirror, shaking his head when he realised Blake was grinning from ear to ear.

“Ready?” He said, turning back to Lucas.

“Yes,” the alpha replied, patting his handcuff holder.

Oliver nodded, tapping the bright yellow taser protruding from his stab vest. “You know, the boss won’t let me carry a disco stick anymore.”

Lucas stretched his arms over his head, making his muscles ripple and dip. “I don’t think I’d let you carry one either, Reed.”

“Because you tasered half the bloody custody block!” Nancy called from the row in front.

Scowling, Oliver unclipped his seatbelt and adjusted his stab vest. “Well, it significantly shortened the siege, didn’t it?”

Lucas cocked an eyebrow. “You had a siege? In West Newton custody?”

“Oh yes,” Oliver nodded. “One of the prisoners broke the ceiling tiles in his cell. Pulled all the wires loose, which opened every cell door at once. It’s why they’ve gone back to a good old-fashioned lock and key. In fact, I think your lot had to come up on mutual aid because we were over-run with prisoners.”

“When was that?” Lucas asked, unclipping his own belt.

“About five years ago. Why?”

“Because—” Lucas hesitated, scrubbing a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Because Joshua had to assist a countryside force with a prisoner siege back when we were in firearms. I was on another job at the time so he had to go with our Inspector.”

Oliver’s brows pulled together as he searched the depths of his mind for memories of that day. He’d remembered the almighty adrenaline rush when the booming voice of the custody sergeant sounded over the tannoy. “AFFRAY IN CUSTODY, ASSISTANCE REQUIRED.”

The call for cross-force aid rang out across the control rooms, and two hours later, a serial of Metropolitan and Bedfordshire officers arrived. West Newton was a tiny police station compared to the cities, but its custody block was the largest of all the countryside forces. Lots of prisoners and very few police officers did not make for a safe environment. The Home Office had practically chopped the custody suite in half after the incident.

“Heh, small world,” Oliver said, playfully slapping Lucas’ shoulder. “Anyway, jokes on both of you because they’ll have to let me carry a taser if I become a sergeant.”

“God help us all,” Nancy replied, leaning over the chair to smack the back of his head.

Onlookers were already gathering as the two riot vans descended on the town of Tintern-on-Wye. Oliver shivered, catching sight of the clock tower outside the swimming baths, and he found it difficult not to picture Alfie standing there all alone. It was truly amazing just how much shit people would ignore for a quiet life.

“Are we going to have our hands full here?” Oliver asked, tuning his own radio to the correct channel.

“Quite possibly,” Lucas said, pulling on a police-issue baseball cap. “But you’re staying by the van, got it?”

Tutting, Oliver pulled on two pairs of blue latex gloves and gathered the evidence bags into an untidy pile. “Yeah, because leaving me by the van worked out so well last time.”

Standing, Lucas tugged Oliver up by the elbow and spun him around to shield them from the rest of the group. His fingers gripped Oliver’s arm as he planted a rough kiss on the top of his head. “Do as you’re told, Reed, or I’ll see to it you can’t sit down tomorrow.”

“Is that a threat?” Oliver purred, pushing his face into Lucas’ neck.

“A promise.”

The strike team flooded the property from the front and back. “Bravo delta, strike,” Lucas called over the radio. Sidney swung the heavy metal battering ram into the front door, sending it flying off its hinges in a maelstrom of splintered wood. Oliver could hear Blake’s team giving the rear door the same treatment.

“See ya later, loser,” Nancy said, handcuffs at the ready as she prepared to pile into the house.

“Try not to have too much fun,” Oliver pouted.

“Look after the evidence bags for me,” she smirked.

“Piss off.”

And then she stuck out her tongue and disappeared into the property. A series of shouts, screams and snarls erupted from within, accompanied by a chorus of “POLICE, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” and “POLICE, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!”

Nancy appeared in an upstairs window. Her fist rammed into the back of a screeching man as she twisted his arm and shoved a pair of handcuffs over his wrists.

“Go girl,” Oliver said under his breath.

Then Harry appeared near a downstairs window, wrestling a grey-haired wolf into a headlock. Blake shot out the front door, his tawny wolf form dragging a male to the ground by his ankles. Oliver jumped on the man, twisting his arms behind his back as another officer came and slapped on a pair of cuffs.

Blake inclined his massive wolf head, before stalking back inside the property. Feeling thoroughly pleased with himself, Oliver dusted off his knees and returned to his position next to the van. He watched as several more prisoners were removed, each of them thrashing and swearing loudly.

“Lovely day for it,” someone piped up, just below his left ear.

Oliver’s head snapped down as he came face to face with a little old lady pulling a tartan shopping cart. She beamed up at him with inquisitive eyes and a shaky smile. And he couldn’t really argue, because the sun and the birds were singing.

“Uh, yes… it is,” he said, ushering the old woman towards the end of the street. “How about you stand over here? Wouldn’t want you getting knocked off your feet.”

The lady tutted and shook her head. “Oh, I’m not worried about these tossers. I just came to say that my grandson’s a lovely boy and I think you’d make?—”

Then another male came running out of the property, and Oliver snarled when he realised he had a terrified looking girl tucked under his arm. Oliver pulled a canister of pava from his belt, bolted back down the street, around the fence and into the front garden. The man growled as the girl wriggled free, her knees grazing on the garden path as she scuttled away. She couldn’t have been older than eleven, with a dirty grey dress covering her skinny body.

Hand flying to his radio, Oliver shouted, “Charlie papa one, male attempting to flee on foot with a juvenile.” He followed the man, ducking left then dodging as a fist flew towards his face. Then the man tried to head butt him, but Oliver wasn’t falling for that again, so he emptied the can of pava straight into his face.

“Ahhh!” the man screamed, hands flying to his eyes. Oliver rammed his foot into the back of his knees, sending him crumpling to the ground. Rolling him onto his front, Oliver pulled his arms back and slid on the cuffs with a satisfying ‘click.’

“You’re under arrest on suspicion of child exploitation,” he began, the stench of the pava making his eyes water. “You do not have to say anything, but—Jesus,” he coughed. “—but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you say may be given in evidence.”

Oliver barked out the caution so fast any lawyer worth their salt might argue it was an unlawful arrest. But the magic words were still the magic words, regardless of how fast they were said.

“Charlie papa one, male detained,” he said, crouching next to the man. He was vaguely aware of Lucas’ voice over the radio, but the man on the ground was shouting and swearing so loudly he could barely make out the words. In the blink of an eye, another man appeared at the door, his long greasy hair plastered to his face.

“Stay where you are!” Oliver commanded, aware that his one and only set of handcuffs were attached to the prisoner on the ground.

“Fuck you,” the man snarled, producing a tiny stun gun from the inside of his boot. Not giving the man a chance to use it, Oliver sprang forward, pulled out his baton, and smashed the metal rod into the man’s hand. There was a sickening crunch as the bones in his wrist shattered, but Oliver wasn’t taking any chances. So, withdrawing a second canister of pava, he sprayed it into his eyes and dragged him to the ground. Remnants of the chemical wiped across Oliver’s cheek and into his left eye, causing a sudden and extremely unpleasant stinging sensation.

“Fuck!” He growled, eyes watering uncontrollably. “You’re under arrest on suspicion of child exploitation—” he said, making his second arrest of the day. And he found he was rather enjoying being the exhibits officer, after all.

“Reed!” Lucas roared as he appeared in the doorway. His face was flushed and his chest heaved as he glared down at the scene unfolding in the front garden.

“That one—” Oliver huffed, eye streaming as he pointed at the man under his armpit. “No cuffs…both…arrested?—”

Growling, the alpha ripped the handcuffs off his utility belt and snapped them into place. “Are you injured?” He said, glaring at Oliver’s only working eye.

Oliver grinned, “No. But I may have pava’d myself a little.”

Lucas barked out a laugh, hauling both suspects to their feet before marching them towards the back of the riot van. Oliver followed, gripping the first man by the arm as he shoved him into one of the two secure cages. They both spat and shouted as he and Lucas slammed the doors shut.

“Did you really pava yourself?” Lucas asked, pushing Oliver’s hair out of his eyes.

“Well… the prisoner got most of it, but this is my pava so… yes?”

Lucas grinned and shook his head. “I’d say you’ve earned yourself a cake fine, DC Reed.”

Because—unbeknownst to the public—the police operated on an internal scale of stupidity. Doing something mildly stupid whilst on duty, such as leaving your warrant card by the printer, the officer might get away with only buying biscuits for the team. Doing something incredibly stupid, such as losing a prisoner, that would cost you an entire banquet of cakes from Sidoli’s. Getting one’s own pava in one’s own eye… that probably fell somewhere in the middle.

Oliver was about to protest when a third man suddenly appeared at the door. He and Lucas spun around, eyes widening in horror when they realised what he was carrying.

“Is that—” Oliver began, eyes trailing to the massive block of silver powder tucked between the man’s arms. It was so large that he was struggling to hold it.

“Love Dust.” Lucas pulled out his taser. “Stay back, Oliver. We don’t want that thing rupturing.”

“It could be anthrax.” Oliver said, only half joking as he backed away.

“Then we’ll all be dead,” Lucas replied. The man took a step forward, the weight of the package making his movements slow. “Stay where you are,” Lucas shouted, pointing his taser at the man’s chest.

“Do it. See what happens,” the man sneered, his accent distinctly Eastern European.

“Drop it. Carefully,” Lucas growled, the power in his voice giving the other alpha pause.

The muscles in Oliver’s legs twitched as he held back the urge to spring forward and tackle the man to the ground. If it truly was Love Dust, then the man wouldn’t give it up without a fight.

“Oi!” Nancy yelled as she appeared in the doorway.

Oliver’s eyes went wide. “Nancy, no!” he cried as the beta karate chopped the man to the side of the neck. He jolted, the jerk of his arms sending the package flying forward. Time seemed to slow as the silver block hurtled through the air, landing right at his and Lucas’ feet. Powder exploded everywhere, and for one horribly disorientating moment, Oliver couldn’t see a single thing as sparkles blanketed his vision. He shouted for the others to move, but stupidly inhaled at the same time.

The acrid, chemical taste of the Love Dust hit the back of his throat and sent him spluttering to the ground. His hand scrabbled across the dusty path, trying to find the alpha amongst the chaos. “I’m here,” Lucas spluttered, voice hoarse as he gripped Oliver’s fingers.

“Oi, get down, you little shit,” Nancy shouted.

The powder cleared, and Oliver saw the beta wrestling with the man on the ground. Acting on pure adrenaline, Oliver launched forward, bitch-slapped the man across the face and hauled him onto his front.

“Cuffs—” he coughed, hand coming up to his mouth, only to find that it was completely covered in powder.

“Oh shit,” Nancy said, giving him a horrified look.

“Fucking cuffs, Nance.”

“I don’t have any. They’re on the guy I just locked up.”

Then Lucas was there, shoving them both out the way as he pinned the man’s arms with one of his massive hands. “DC Purslow, locate another set of handcuffs. Reed, stay here with me.”

“R-Right,” Nancy said, scrambling back inside the house.

Lucas pressed his radio. “Control, this is bravo delta one.”

“Bravo delta one, go ahead.”

“Officers have been exposed to a noxious substance. We require immediate medical assistance. All other officers are to remain within the property until the scene is secure.”

The control room said something back, but Oliver had to pull out his ear piece because the buzzing in his head was irritating beyond belief. Lucas’ eyes trailed up his face, the only thing of colour amongst the blanket of silver.

Oliver glanced around, the Love Dust giving everything in sight a hazy edge. “Fuck me, it’s snowing,” he said, brain filling him with childish wonder.

“Reed,” Lucas said, gripping his shoulder with his free hand. “Did you inhale any?”

“Er…yeah,” Oliver grimaced. “You?”

“Yes.”

The man thrashed in Lucas’ grip, so Oliver jumped on his legs. “So—” he began, the edges of his vision beginning to distort. “I’d estimate that we have approximately two minutes until we’re absolutely off our tits.”

Lucas nodded, the hand on Oliver’s shoulder slipping to the nape of his neck. “That’s a fair estimate.”

And then it hit him—there would never be a ‘perfect’ time to tell the alpha how he felt. Not in their line of work. So, leaning forward, he pressed his powdery lips to Lucas’ and whispered, “I love you too.”