The Warrant

I promise I'm still here!  It's just been a crazy few months--two jobs, extra training, etc, etc, etc.  Anyway, here's just a little ficlet.  Enjoy!
JL-

*****
THE WARRANT

The doorbell roused Connor from his sleep.  Groaning, he rolled to his side and then slowly sat up.  Mark remained asleep on the bed, dark circles still visible under his eyes.  Connor was sure he had matching circles, considering their crazy week and the red-eye flight that had brought them home. 

The doorbell rang again, followed by pounding knocks.  Connor frowned and hurried as much as he was able to prevent the intrusive noise from waking his partner.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbled, and then yanked open the door.  “What do you...want?”

His question fell away as he stared at the three officers at his front door.  They looked intimidatingly serious, and one of then handed him an envelope. 

“Sir, do you live here?”

“Um…yeah.  What’s going….?

“We have a warrant to search this residence.  Please step aside.”

Connor’s tired brain was having trouble keeping up, and he felt like he was caught in a bad cop drama.  “A warrant?  For what?”

One of the cops made a subtle motion for the other two to enter and start searching, while Connor looked on in confused shock.

“The warrant is for any and all ‘toys’ of a sexual nature,” the lead cop explained, his face making an expression of disgust. 

“Connor’s mouth fell open.  “What?  Why?!”

“It’s all explained in the warrant,” the cop replied.

Frantic, Connor ripped open the envelope, his mind trying to make sense of the legal jargon while his heart panicked at the thought of the cops looking in the drawer of his nightstand or the small trunk kept in the back corner of his and Mark’s closet. 

Before he could finish reading the information in the documents of the warrant, the two cops reentered the room, both now wearing gloves as they held the contents of his nightstand drawer, including the small wooden paddle that Connor definitely did not consider a ‘toy’.  He frantically looked over the policemen’s shoulders, hoping to see Mark come out to help him, but saw no sign of his partner.  How could Mark sleep through their search?!

The head officer turned a menacing look onto him.  “Sir, do these items belong to you?”

“Uh…I…ah…I mean….”

Apparently they took that answer as an affirmative, because in moments his wrists were being handcuffed and one of the cops started saying the familiar, “You have the right to remain silent” speech.

“Wait!  No!  I’ve done nothing wrong.  Mark!” he called in a panic.

Not looking impressed or merciful, the head cop looked at his partner who still held the paddle.  “Take him down to the station.  If he gives you any trouble, use that on him.”

“What?!  No!  NO!  Mark, wake up!  Help!  Help!”

“Connor.  Connor!”

With a gasp and a muffled shriek, Connor sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding.  “Mark!  Help!”

“Connor-love, I’m here!  I’m here!  You’re just dreaming.  You’re okay.”

Gulping, Connor turned desperately into Mark’s arms as his partner pulled him close.  Vestiges of his dream floating around him for a few terrifying seconds before they drifted away.  His breathing was rough for a minute more before he started to calm.

“You’re okay, baby.  You’re okay,” Mark heard murmured in his ear.  “It was just a dream.”

“A nightmare,” he corrected, his voice muffled against Mark’s shoulder. 

“I believe you.  You sounded terrified.  Want to talk about it?”

It only took a moment’s thought before Connor shook his head, at first horribly embarrassed as to the contents of his dream—cops coming with a search warrant for dildos, plugs, and a paddle.  Then, exhaustion and residual emotion took his mind another direction and he began to chuckle, then laugh, and then completely lose himself to hysterics.  His eyes watered and he had to keep wiping at them until his laughter faded away.  Mark looked at him with a mix of worry and amusement.

“What in the world did you dream about, love?”

Connor shook his head, unable to find the words to explain the weird dream.  “I’ll tell you when I can think more clearly.  I think the red-eye flight and plane food has played havoc with my brain.  Let’s just go back to sleep.”

Still looking concerned, Mark nodded and they snuggled together under the blankets.  Connor closed his eyes, sighed, and then spoke quietly.  “Tomorrow, maybe we can find a way to lock the nightstand drawers.”

“Um, sure, whatever you want, baby.”

Connor knew Mark was saying that just to placate him, but it helped, and he fell back asleep with thoughts of his husband instead of images of cops at the door holding paddles and sex toys.