Three sharp knocks on the door were followed by muffled dialogue and rustling. The door didn't open, so Nick tried knocking again.

"Eh, New York Poloce! Open up!" He called. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a short man. He had a bald spot with a little black hair around it to match his beard. The scar under his eye made him look gruff, even though his build wasn't very intimidating.

The man addressed a Nick and Jeff and officers and asked, "what can I do for you today?"

Nick cleared his throat and stepped forward, "I'm officer Duval, this Sterling, we're from the NYPD. We have readings of high levels of carbon monoxide in the area and we'd like to check it out."

"Carbon monxide? Impossible, you have the wrong house. Thank you, officers." He tried closing the door, but Nick stopped and held it open.

"It's nothing you can be blamed for. It's completely involuntary and happens to the best of furnaces." He explained.

"I'm sure that's true, but I can assure you it's not mine. Check the Turners across the hall."

Again Nick blocked a closing door. "With your health in mind, I insist you let us investigate. High levels of carbon monoxide can be fatal if neglected. Mr. Sterling here is offering a free check to make sure everything is in order, it'll take less than hour. It's not like you have anything to lose."

The man in the doorway hesitated for a moment, before caving in and welcoming the two men into the apartment. It was small and cluttered. Clothing was strewn across furniture and shoes were scattered on the floor, which the boys had step over and around.

"Where's the, uh, furnace? They're usually the main cause of problems like this. I mean, we might need to check other places, too, but the uh, the furnace is a good start." Jeff rambled.

The bald man looked to Jeff warily, before pointing down a short hall. "It's the small door at the very end of the hallway." With a brief nod, Jeff walked down the hall, but he didn't go through the door. Instead, Jeff waited for Nick's signal. It was when he took his sun glasses off, that was the signal.

Nick waited until he could get the man to turn his back to Jeff. "So," there was the signal, "I never caught your name." Jeff snuck into another room, to begin his mission.

The man thought for a moment, "It's really too hard to pronounce, everyone just calls me Him. It's a shortened."

"Like a nickname?"

"Exactly." Him cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Isn't this usually a fire department kinda job?"

"Well, you see, sir," Nick wet his lips, "the firemen only come for crucial situations. They send the cops and appliance guys for stuff like this. The small stuff."

"Right, right." Him nodded.

Nick scanned the small room, "You've got a lot of dresses..." he observed.

"I've got a lot of friends." Him retorted. Nick nodded, making a mental note of the very Santana dresses.

"I'm sure you do. I was just hinting at roommates but..."

"Toothpaste." The voice murmured clearly in Nick's ear. Jeff.

Nick sized up Him. Deciding he wasn't that big, Nick took his chance and swung at Him. He wasn't big and was down after the one hit. Nick ran past him, down the small hallway.

"Jeff!"

"I'm in here." Jeff called. Nick ran in and pulled his boyfriend into a hug.

Nick kissed him, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" They were standing in the bathroom, a window open above the shower. The blonde boy held up his hand with blue gel on it. "I got toothpaste on me."

"Oh Jeff, Jeffy," Nick pushed his bangs back and kissed his face. "Toothpaste was the help call."

"Oh yeah...that."

"Yeah, that. Okay, it's okay. We just need to get out of here."

They turned to find an angry and bruised Him in the doorway. "I doubt that'll be happening."