Chapter Text
Richard Stern had dealt with a lot of unexpected situations in his line of work. Walking into his living room to find three Detroit police officers waiting for him at seven in the goddamn morning was a new one.
"Mr. Stern." The lead detective, a woman with sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones, gestured to the couch. "Have a seat."
Richard stayed standing, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing nothing but gray sweatpants—he'd barely been awake five minutes before his building manager had knocked, apologetic and anxious, saying the police needed to speak with him urgently. "I don't suppose you have a warrant?"
"We don't need one," she replied coolly. "You invited us in."
"Did I?" Richard's jaw tightened. "Funny. I don't remember that."
The detective's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Mr. Stern, we're investigating a significant drug operation in this building. Fentanyl, heroin, methamphetamine, being manufactured and distributed from multiple units in this complex."
"Good for you. I don't do drugs." A lie, but a small one. The half ounce of weed in his bedroom drawer hardly counted.
"We're not here to arrest you," she continued, ignoring his response. "We're here because we need your cooperation. We need to place an undercover officer in this building. Your apartment, specifically."
Richard stared at her. "You want to what?"
"Your unit is ideally positioned. Top floor, corner apartment, clear sightlines to the stairwells and the suspected units." She pulled out a tablet, showing him a floor plan with his apartment highlighted. "We need someone inside for approximately four to six weeks."
"Absolutely not." Richard turned toward his door. "Get out."
"Mr. Stern." Her voice hardened. "We can make this voluntary, or we can make it *involuntary*. We have probable cause to believe controlled substances are present in this building... including this unit."
Richard went very still.
The detective continued, her tone almost pleasant now. "If we were to execute a search warrant on your apartment, and if we were to find anything;; marijuana, prescription medications without proper documentation, anything at all, that would complicate your living situation considerably. Not to mention what it might do to your... professional reputation."
There it was. The threat, wrapped in silk.
One of the other officers, younger with an expression that suggested he'd rather be anywhere else, shifted uncomfortably.
Richard turned back around slowly. "How long?"
"Four to six weeks. The officer will pose as your boyfriend. You'll maintain your normal schedule. He's been fully briefed on your... occupation, and understands the need for discretion."
"My boyfriend," Richard repeated flatly.
"It's the most plausible cover. You live alone, you're young, you work from home." She held his gaze. "We need your answer now, Mr. Stern. Either you agree to cooperate, or we'll be back in an hour with a search warrant and a lot less courtesy."
Richard's hands clenched into fists at his sides. His lease was paid through the end of the year. He had equipment, lighting, his whole setup here. Moving would cost thousands, and he'd lose weeks of income during the transition. And if they found his stash, even just the weed, it would mean possession charges, court dates, possibly probation.
He thought of his subscriber count. His reputation. The carefully cultivated image of @ninesofficial; controlled, untouchable, professional.
"Fine," he bit out. "But he follows my rules. He stays out of my way, he doesn't touch my things, and he doesn't interfere with my work. And the moment this operation is over, he's gone."
The detective smiled. "Of course. Detective Reed will move in tomorrow evening. We'll be in touch."
---
Gavin Reed had fucked up exactly twice in his life.
The first time was in high school when he'd crashed his brother's car into a mailbox while drunk. The second time was right now, standing in Captain Fowler's office, being told his next assignment.
"You want me to what?"
Fowler didn't even look up from the file on his desk. "Go undercover. Four to six weeks. We've been tracking a major distribution operation in the Riverside Apartments complex-"
"Yeah, I know all that," Gavin interrupted. "But you want me to move in with-" He couldn't even say the name. His brain was shortcircuiting. "With him?"
"Richard Stern has agreed to cooperate. You'll pose as his boyfriend to avoid suspicion." Fowler finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "Is there a problem, Detective?"
Was there a problem? Was there a PROBLEM?
Gavin had jerked off to Nines- to Richard Stern-approximately five hundred times in the past year alone. He had a premium subscription to his OnlyFans. He'd watched every single video, some of them multiple times. He knew what Richard looked like when he came, knew the sounds he made, knew the way his back arched and his-
"No problem, Captain," Gavin heard himself say.
"Good. You move in tomorrow at six PM. Chen will brief you on the details." Fowler handed him the file. "And Reed? Don't fuck this up. This operation has been months in the planning. We're this close to dismantling one of the biggest drug pipelines in Detroit."
Gavin took the file with numb fingers.
He was going to be living with Nines.
With Richard Stern.
For six weeks.
He was so incredibly fucked.