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“Not-- No. Not as such.” Saul replied, a bit of embarrassment still laced in his voice.
The two cops looked at each other skeptically, not seeming convinced. Saul frowned and hesitated, knowing what he had to say to make them believe (or at least be so overcome by second-hand embarrassment that they let them go).
“... What’s a squat cobbler?”
Saul practically marched out of the police station, still feeling a bit of pink on his cheeks from what seemed like the most awkward conversation he’d ever had.
“So uh… We’re good, right?” Mr. Wormald asked, nervously glancing at Saul.
‘Worm being in your last name couldn’t be a fucking coincidence.’ Saul thought moodily before nodding.
The miserable worm would have to make a video now, but the lawyer would leave that all to him. Getting into his (still new-car-smelling) Mercedes, Saul made his way back home to bleach his brain and sneak a few sips of liquor.
Ah shit. He should probably call Mike first and let him know it’d been taken care of. Dialing the number, Saul waited for the grouchy man to answer.
“Yeah?” Mike asked in his grumbling voice, down to business as usual.
Saul smiled lightly as he said, “H-Hey uh- Got Wormald into the clear. Had to pretty much violate the officers with my explanation, but it worked like a charm… Albeit a very awkward one.”
“Oh you mean like sitting in a freaking pie ? What are you, nuts?” Mike asked in his usual scolding voice, “I got friends from the station callin’ and saying you claimed that freak sat in pies for money instead of selling drugs!”
Saul let out a nervous sigh, trying to concentrate on the road as Mike tore into him, “Look, it’s all I could think of! That bastard was sweating and stuttering all over the place, I had to make some kind of excuse! God, he was as clammy as my thighs during August in this fucking desert!”
Mike gave a mix of a groan and a scoff at that imagery before saying, “It’s bullshit. How the hell did you even come up with something like that?”
Saul had to push back a soft noise of panic, “I-It’s a real thing, ok? I didn’t make it up and I sure as hell ain’t no pervert!”
Mike gave the verbal equality of an eye roll before saying, “Just meet me in the damn parking lot, ok?”
Saul tried to mask his worry, “Oh, I don’t know! Will you let me leave if I don’t have enough damn stickers?” He asked sarcastically.
Mike didn’t bother with a rebuttal, hanging up and waiting in the booth for Saul.
Saul scoffed as he looked down at his phone, seeing that Mike had hung up on him once again. But it didn’t matter, he was almost to that damn parking lot anyways. Mike wasn’t going to kill him over this, right? It was just some stupid lie- Hell, Mike asked for moral flexibility!
“Nothing more morally flexible than parking both cheeks in a perfectly good pie.” Saul found himself mumbling in disgust as he pulled up to the booth.
Mike barely spared him a glance before letting him through and getting out of the booth. Mike locked it up while Saul cut the engine and hesitated to get out.
What the hell had he done so wrong?
Mike glanced around the parking lot before making his way over to the nervous lawyer, “Come with me.”
Saul had to have good faith that Mike wouldn’t kill him here just out of principle of how easily he could get caught.
But apparently they weren’t staying here.
Mike led Saul to his own car, motioning for him to get in, “Try to run and I swear I’ll break your teeth.” He stated simply enough.
And that’s all it took for Saul to comply, getting in the passenger seat. He groaned lightly in nervous anticipation.
Mike took one glance at Saul before shaking his head and starting the car, “Christ, I’m not killing you! I swear you got anxiety, kid.”
“Th-Then tell me what the hell you want from me!” Saul semi-yelled, frustrated and honestly still embarrassed.
Couldn’t this day just end already? But Mike drove him out of that hell hole and towards a different one anyways… Saul was still cursing God, Wormald, and his own damn luck when Mike pulled up to an unfamiliar house.
“Who’s place is-”
“Just get out.” Mike grumbled, following his own order.
Saul looked at the house a minute longer before getting out and following.
--
The house was obviously Mike’s, Saul concluded as they went inside. The furniture looked comfy but a bit worn, and even though it was decorated, there wasn’t much… Personal touch. No family photos or keep-sakes. But Mike didn’t give him much time to look around, heading into the kitchen. Saul faltered, standing just barely passed the kitchen doorway as he stared at the counter in shock.
“Show me.” Mike flatly stated, arms crossed.
But Saul heard a hint of amusement, heat rising to his face as he said, “Sh-Show you what?” while looking at the big pie just innocently sitting there. It felt like the damn thing was staring at him.
Oh god and it was banana cream.
What the fuck.
It slipped from Saul’s lips before he could bite his tongue, “You’re a maniac.”
Mike rolled his eyes, “And you’re a lousy liar... “Pie sitting” … ” He scoffed.
Saul finally caved, “Ok, yeah, it was a weird and fucked up story! But what, am I being punished now?!”
“You always said the punishment should fit the crime.” Mike shrugged.
Saul blushed harder at the older man’s dismissive attitude, sputtering lightly as he tried to weave another web, “I-I can’t sit in that, I’m ah…. Allergic to bananas! Yeah, I’ll swell up like a balloon and do you really want me to get hives all over my ass, Mike? Now that does not fit the cri-.”
Mike took one step forward and Saul shut his mouth, going rigid as he stared at Mike like he’d been caught doing another Chicago sunroof in front of minors.
“You’re gonna shut the hell up and do it, ok? Oh, and another thing... You are a pervert.” Mike corrected.
--
Saul paced the bedroom, side-glancing Mike every so often. He was practically ready to jump out the window, and Mike could tell.
He then stopped his pacing to point at Mike, “Fuck this, ok? And fuck you.” He nervously rambled, “I’m not doing it.”
Mike stood in front of the door, at full attention but still somehow relaxed, looking as if this was just another job guarding his client. He didn’t respond, just silently blocking the closed door and watching Saul. He wasn’t getting out of this.
Saul let out a pitiful noise like a child with a stomach ache, finally sitting on the foot of the bed and holding his head in his hands.
“Hey, if you would’ve sat just a few inches to your right, this would be over by now.” Mike said like telling his granddaughter if she had eaten all her dinner, she could have had ice cream.
Saul scoffed and said “Easy for you to say! I’m the one who has to defile myself like this!”
“You know who else has to defile themselves like this?” Mike asked as if Saul was stupid.
Saul glared but shook his head.
“Mr. Wormald.” Mike deadpanned. Silence… “What, you forget about him already?”
Saul couldn’t catch Mike’s eye, instead looking at the floor and pursing his lips together lightly. Because of his stupid lie, Mike’s former client had to film himself sitting in pies for the whole police force to see and maybe even “keep as evidence”. And yeah, Saul hadn’t really thought about how it would feel to have to do that. Hell, he only had one person watching and no camera but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Look… I’m sorry, ok?” Saul groaned before adding, “But you can’t possibly give me all the blame! I mean the idiot is a drug dealer and he went to the cops over some stolen baseball cards! He deserves a boot up his ass, not a damn pie!”
“What, you gonna “cry baby” it too?” Mike asked in mocking empathy, making Saul turn a new shade of pink.
“Jesus, did those cops record the whole conversation or what?” Saul grumbled in distaste.
But Mike’s comment also made Saul recognize a stinging in his eyes that promised future tears. And we’re talking tears . But there’s something about holding them back that makes it hurt even more, the lawyer soon aware that his vision was blurring.
“Just do it and you can go home.” Mike said with an ‘end of story’ tone.
Saul nodded and mentally winced when he sniffled. He sounded so pathetic. And yet… He kind of liked it. He knew his sexuality, bisexual as they come (maybe even pan, but that was for another day). But this… He didn’t want this. Especially with Mike of all fucking people watching him. This had to be some sort of fever dream. Or even better, a goddamn coma. Then he could take this embarrassment to his grave.
But instead he was staring at a pie like it was the barrel of a gun.
And Saul just thanked God he told the cops Wormald didn’t do it naked…
Mike sighed softly as Saul stood up on slightly unsteady legs, saying, “Pants have to go but rest can stay.”
And just like that, they were at square one. Saul gave a sound of embarrassed horror and put his hands over his face, going back to pacing.
“O-Ok, I’ll just… Take them off, fine!” He rambled, angrily starting to take his belt off before stopping at the pie and glaring at it.
But he still blushed and felt this warmth along his spine that he couldn't quite name. Finally turning around, Saul sighed in defeat and closed his eyes, cringing as he dropped his pants. Mike didn’t comment, but the nervous man was sure he was watching with smugness.
“S-So what, do I just-?”
“Yeah, just sit.” Mike sighed.
Mike sounded like he didn’t even want to be here, so why the hell was he doing this? But Saul knew if he fought this any longer, the guard-for-hire would beat him senseless and probably still make him do this. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could before letting go and-
Saul let out a shaky gasp, flinching as he landed on the pie. It was still fucking cold, a freezing shot of surprise blooming on his ass and thighs. He could feel the pudding ooze and rush up between his thighs, it ending up in his lap now too. He shivered and slightly opened his legs to release the light pressure, the pie deeper than he had thought.
“O-Oh god…” Saul said pitifully, his voice cracking lightly.
He couldn’t hold it in after that, tears spilling as he bowed his head and could say the only words he thought even remotely appropriate for this situation.
“I-I’m sorry, ok? I… I didn’t mean-. I shouldn't have said that- please.” He cried, his mouth running even as he could feel whipped cream and banana pudding soaking his underwear and going up his back to soil the end of his shirt too.
Mike watched and nodded slowly before walking closer now, saying, “Sorry? You made a damn mess of yourself .”
Saul cried and felt the heat imbed deeper into his spine as Mike degraded him.
“You’re a brat, you know that?” Mike grumbled, watching Saul closely and almost in a casual manner.
Like this didn’t even affect him.
Saul looked away but nodded, the warmth traveling lower and resting in his groin.
What the fuck kind of sick game was Mike playing?
Either way, Saul was too scared and unnerved to ask. So he instead just let the soft cries slip out and tumble to the floor with his dignity.
“Filthy. Dirty. Lawyer. That’s all you are… Actually, I don’t even consider you a real lawyer. ” Mike said in almost a murmur, the words like a heel grinding into Saul’s soul.
But it also made a pang of arousal stir in his lap again, the attention making him feel desperate for more. As the hormones took over Saul’s body, it made him do things he would never otherwise do.
Like wiggle his hips in the fucking pie .
Deep down, Saul was appalled with himself; the way he was squirming around in a pie like it was natural. But the scene made Mike give a deep chuckle, tilting his head lightly.
“I knew you’d fucking like it.” Mike speculated with almost a hint of pride at how well he read people.
“I-I don’t-... I don’t…” Saul weakly and shamefully insisted, wiping at his tears as his erection pressed against his briefs.
Mike ignored it and sat beside him, saying, “Ya know, you look rather pathetic like this.” Again with that casual tone, “Now do you get the message or…?”
Saul glanced at Mike and said, “I-I get the message… No more stupid lies.”
“Stupid lies as in ones that draw more attention than the suspect originally had . Remember, I’m connected to this guy, I can’t have that pharmaceutical freak taking-.”
“Mike, please.” Saul begged, finally looking up at the older man with the most intense case of puppy eyes the cold stone killer had ever seen.
And it almost worked.
But Mike couldn’t help but want to see Saul be put in his place for one more moment. He stared at Saul with those intense and heartless eyes (or “dead-mackerel eyes” as Saul liked to call them) until Saul finally looked away and gave an uncomfortable shift.
“... Alright, go wash off.” Mike finally said, sighing lightly.
Saul got to his feet and snatched his pants up before rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and promptly locking it. Mike found it a bit dramatic, rolling his eyes but letting it go as he started to clean up the mess.
--
Saul frowned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a complete fucking wreck, and he didn’t mean that lightly. He had pudding and cream all over his ass, thighs, lap, and lower back. And worst of all, he had been sporting a hard-on right in front of the most judgmental man the lawyer had ever met. But by now, it was fading and being replaced with a sudden sense of guilt and dread.
Saul started wiping the dessert off his skin when he decided ‘fuck-all’ and stripped before getting into the shower. If Mike wanted to cry about it, then he could go ahead and fuck himself while he was at it.
And with that thought, Saul took the most uncomfortable shower of his life. After that, he tried to collect a sense of normalcy and dressed himself. Standing in front of the mirror again, he looked himself over and saw how pale he was. How much he was shaking, and just how emotionally drained he looked.
God, he did look like a brat... Like a tired little brat; and made him feel even more unsafe.
Saul shook his head and left the bathroom, trying not to stomp as he walked back over to the bed where Mike was making sure the blankets were clean.
“Y-You know what? I’m done, Mike. No more of these last minute- “I gotta job for you”- calls, ok? You’re fucking insane, probably onset dementia, which is sad but also not really because you’re a fucking creep .” Saul ranted with an anxious tone, unable to stay still.
“Sit on the bed.” Mike simply replied.
Saul shook his head, ignoring how it strangely made him dizzy, “I’m getting the hell out of here, and-and after that, the only time I’m seeing you is at that miserable fucking booth of yours!”
But suddenly it seemed like the room tilted ever so slightly, and that glare plastered on Mike’s face turned into a serious yet concerned one. He was suddenly right up on Saul, grabbing his arm and side to stop him from toppling.
“I said sit on the bed, damn it. Or can you not tell when you’re about to hit the floor?” Mike growled lightly, keeping Saul just steady enough to lead him to the bed.
Saul laid down weakly, remembering how pale and weak he had looked in the mirror.
“Y-You'd think I’d know what my anxiety attacks feel like by now…” Saul mumbled pitifully before hiding his face in the soft pillow.
But he didn’t miss the slight look of pity in the older man’s eyes before the lawyer curled in on himself.
“Yeah, yeah… Now shut the hell up and sleep.” Mike grumbled softly before patting Saul's shoulder lightly and walking out to the living room.
Saul heard the click of a recliner and soon a soft sigh, the tv being turned on to an old western picture show. The sounds relaxed Saul, the hammering in his chest quieting as he pictured Mike in his recliner while watching movies late into the night.
And he imagined Mike staying awake just in case Saul needed him...