Intimacies, for le_mot_mo
Title: Intimacies
Author: Edward G. Hoover
Recipient: le_mot_mo
Rating:Well - no sex, even though someone thinks about it . . . R?
Warnings: suggestions of het sex, and suggestions of male intimacy
2. Discovery fic. The kind where the boys have been together for a while and then the rest of the team discovers their relationship (not because they were caught making out, but in some other way) and they are stunned.
Viv knew. She wasn’t sure how she knew but she knew that she knew because she wasn’t surprised when she got confirmation.
It wasn’t overt - nothing between the two of them ever was. That was one of the reasons why she thought it should have surprised her more, because she had never seen anything to vaguely hint that the two men were anything other than co-workers, partners on occasion, and on good days, when a case was going well, friends. And - wasn’t Danny seeing Elena? Something was going on with the two of them, or had been for at least the past six months.
It was a Saturday morning, and that in itself was a surprise; she had known Danny Taylor for almost seven years, and one thing he had always maintained was that any morning he wasn’t at work was a morning he was going to be in bed. Preferably with someone else.
But there he was, in the center of the bed linen aisle, his hands running appreciatively over a royal blue flannel sheet set, queen-sized, making little noises of pleasure.
The giveaway, though, was when he lifted the sheet to Martin’s head, then used one hand to turn Martin’s chin so that he could compare the color of the sheet to Martin’s eyes.
As if she needed more conclusive proof, the soft caress to Martin’s cheek as Martin rolled his eyes nailed it.
All that remained was - there is was.
“Viv!”
The flush that completely discolored Martin’s face when his rolling eyes caught sight of her at the end of the aisle, watching them.
Too late, Martin jerked away and Danny pulled away, and the sheet set landed in the floor.
She smiled at them, shaking her head. “Danny’s right,” she said with a grin. “Those sheets do suit your eyes.” She walked over, chuckling as Danny tensed and Martin actually backed a step away, almost falling into the shelving unit itself. Lowering her voice, she said conspiratorially, “I don’t advise bringing in any pictures to show off, though. Jack might not be as amused.” With that, and the message it implied, she turned on her heel. “See you boys Monday.” At the end of the aisle, she turned and looked back over her shoulder, chuckling more when she found them in the same positions they had been in, unable to move. “I doubt I need to say this, but - have a good weekend.”
She smiled to herself as she walked toward the boy’s department to find Reggie another pair of jeans, and wondering how long it was going to take Elena to figure it out.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&
“Coffee?” Sam leaned on Martin’s desk, watching as the smile that had been playing at the corner of his lips died when he saw it was her.
But he was a gentleman, as ever. “Um, thanks, but I need to finish up this report. I promised to have it in Jack’s e-mail before I left today.” He did smile at her then, but it was the flash smile he used, his ‘friendly’ smile, as she thought of it.
And thinking of it made her miss the one she used to know, the high-voltage, ‘you’re-the-center-of-my-world’ smile that had been for her alone before she squandered it away.
“I’m buying,” she countered, trying not to remember other things about him, the feel of his arms around her, safe and secure, the way his body was always so willing, so easily coerced into whatever she wanted to do. Trying not to remember waking up beside him, his morning erection warm against her hip, slipping deftly into her as she rolled him onto his back, or the look of surprise in his sleepy eyes as he awakened to the rhythm she set.
“Thanks, Sam,” he answered, but he looked confused. “I really need - “
“You’re almost done,” she said, reaching past him to point at the monitor. “You were just about to sign off on the electronic signature.” She grinned down at him, watching the faint blush that crept up his elegant neck. “I’ve worked with you for over five years, Martin. I’ve watched you file your reports.” And waited for you to finish, she added mentally, remembering that time she had dragged him through the deserted building into the ladies’ room, the feel of him taking her against the bathroom stall, the blood on his lip afterwards, where he had bitten himself to keep from crying out when he came.
“I need to re-read it,” he said, blinking then looking away.
She straightened, blinking herself. Martin was lying to her. “You never sign it before you’re ready to send it,” she said before she could stop herself. “What’s up with you?”
The blush this time flooded upward, rising as far as his forehead. She almost laughed, but her feelings were actually hurt, she realized, and that made her angry.
“I’ve really got stuff to do, Sam,” he countered, leaning forward. “Thanks, maybe some other time.”
She stared at his back, knowing that by the rigid set of his broad shoulders, she wasn’t going to get anything else out of him. That was standard Martin Fitzgerald behavior.
“Right. Fine.” She turned and moved to her desk, her arms crossed over his breasts. “Whatever.” She jerked up her coat and handbag, her anger mounting as the shock of the lie -lies, now, she was convinced - changed to insult.
She didn’t look back as she stormed out of the large room, even more angry when she couldn’t slam a door behind her - they all had closers on them in the central part of the building.
She was off the elevator and on the ground floor of the FBI building when she realized she had forgotten her cell phone; it had been on her desk, attached to its charger, and in her temper she hadn’t been as thorough in packing up to leave. Snarling, she waited impatiently for the elevator cart to arrive, then punched the floor button at least three times before it got moving. She was tapping her foot when the doors parted, stepping out into the hallway and striding toward the doorway to their unit.
Laughter slowed her, though, not so much because of its loudness in the empty floor, but because of its familiarity; Martin, definitely, but also Danny. What was Danny doing back? Hadn’t he left over an hour ago? Hadn’t he mentioned having big plans for the evening, a special date with the love of his life - which they all knew meant Elena?
But there he was, she saw as she peered into their work area, dressed in black slacks, a burgundy silk shirt, and a black leather jacket - dressed to kill, she knew. Special date clothes, as Danny had taught her.
Only, his hands were tugging at the knot on Martin’s lavender tie, and she had to stop herself from even considering the idea that it was because he wanted to borrow it - not only was it lavender, it was one of Martin’s more hideous ones.
The tie fell away, but not, as she had hoped, into the trash can. Instead, Danny was folding it on itself respectfully before tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. His hands rose to unbutton the top button of Martin’s shirt, then the one under it, before adjusting the lines in the collar and brushing familiarly through Martin’s hair. All the while, they were talking, and smiling, and still laughing.
Just like she had done with Martin when they were together.
There was no kiss, no tell-tale sexual overture, but there didn’t have to be. It was there, she realized, in the way Martin’s body leaned toward Danny, like a flower toward the sun. In the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he looked at the other man. In the ‘you’re-the-center-of-my-world’ smile.
And damned if Danny didn’t have the same smile.
She watched as Danny pulled Martin’s jacket off the back of his chair and held it out, Martin slipping into it without a thought, talking about whatever he was talking about. He hardly paused as Danny handed him his backpack then switched off his light.
It was as they started toward the door that Sam decided to move; part of her wanted to move into their path, to glare at them, especially Martin, and make them explain what they thought they were doing. They weren’t gay - Martin certainly wasn’t gay. And Danny - he had left with Elena just last night, hadn’t he? What the hell were they playing at?
But another part of her, the bigger part, slipped down the hall and through the door into Jack’s office. The blinds were drawn and he wasn’t in - a night with the girls, she knew, he had told her they were flying in from Chicago for a long weekend with him - so she could hide in here, peaking out to see her two co-workers.
Her two friends, she reminded herself. Two friends. One of whom was a former lover.
No, she corrected herself with a sigh. Martin might have loved her, but she had never allowed herself to love him.
So he’d found love somewhere else - somewhere she certainly wouldn’t have expected. But watching as Danny laughed at something Martin said, casually reaching over and squeezing Martin’s shoulder, then lightly touching his back as he let Martin lead them into the elevator, she knew that he had, indeed, found it.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*
“So - Elena?”
Danny blinked at him, his turkey sandwich stopping its trajectory to his mouth. “Huh?” he asked ineloquently.
Jack snorted, watching the other man as he took a bite of his meatball sub. After he chewed for a second, and Danny had managed to get a bite as well, he asked again, “You’re in love with her - and don’t lie to me, Taylor, we’ve known each other too long.”
“And had this conversation too many times to do it again,” Danny rejoined with a grin.
But even as Jack laughed, amused, he noticed that Danny looked a little uncomfortable.
“Now that Carlos is out of the picture, you two planning the wedding?” Jack asked, taking another bite and trying not to get marinara sauce on his white shirt.
“Wha- oh, no, well, no, I mean - “
Jack stopped chewing, staring across the table at his friend. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Danny this flustered - certainly not in a conversation about a woman, not even Elena. It was nice though - different. Much better than the anger that had haunted all of their conversations until recently, when Carlos had finally made the mistake of coming after Elena and Jack had been there to stop him. Danny had finally forgiven him.
“Christ,” he said, swallowing. “This must be serious.” He tried to keep it light - their relationship was just getting back to solid ground.
Danny reached for his soda, taking a long drink. And another.
Avoiding the topic.
“Danny?” Jack asked, worried. “Is it everything all right? I assumed that now that Carlos is gone and you two can be together -
“No, no, Jack,” Danny held up a hand, laughing. But it was loud, forced. “Everything’s fine. Really - fine. Good.”
Jack arched one eyebrow. “Good,” he repeated, watching the other man.
“Fine,” Danny nodded, smiling.
Jack shook his head. “You broken if off with her?”
Danny sighed. “Not yet. I . . . jeez, Jack, it’s all so complicated.”
“No conflict, no interest?” Jack asked, still trying to keep things light.
Danny flinched, his dark eyes turning sharply to stare at Jack.
“What?” the older man asked, confused.
“Have you been - “ Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds.
“What, Danny?” Jack persisted, sitting up straighter.
Danny shook his head, then opened his eyes, plastering on a smile. “Nothing, sorry,” he said, “you just sounded like - well, never mind.” He shook his head, chuckling softly.
Jack frowned, curbing his annoyance. “So you and Elena are done?”
Danny was looking out the window and at first, Jack thought the other man was pretending that he didn’t hear. But as he debated whether to push it - he wasn’t certain if he wanted to shatter the tenuous thread of friendship he was trying to weave once more between them, Danny sighed.
“I . . . don’t know,” he said quietly. “I really like her, Jack, and I adore Sophie. I’ve always wanted kids, you know?” He shifted, staring at the people streaming along the sidewalk. “But I . . . “
“You what?” Jack urged quietly.
Danny sat silent, the fingers of one hand tapping slowly on the table.
Jack sat back, watching his friend. “You don’t love her.” He noted the wince, and the way Danny’s gaze dropped.
Worse, though, was the strange sadness that seemed to settle around him.
“Oh my god,” Jack breathed. “You’re in love with someone else?”
Danny jerked then, and for the briefest instance, as he turned, Jack saw a sort of terror in his dark eyes. “Christ, Jack!” The words were loud enough to draw attention, and for a few seconds, there was quiet around them as the other diners, in traditional New York City fashion, stopped to look at them in annoyance and general nosiness.
Then, as nothing else was said, the hubbub returned and Danny let out his breath. More quietly, he said, “I don’t love Elena, no, you’re right. I thought I did - I want to be in love with her. I do.” He sighed, rubbing at his forehead.
“So - who’s the other chick?” Jack asked quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to them - then realizing that it was stupid as there was no one here who knew them.
“There’s not another chick,” Danny said, his fingers rubbing over the bridge of his nose. “It’s just -it’s complicated, Jack. I don’t know . . . “ He sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Jack frowned, folding up the trash from his lunch. “Well, I can’t help you if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said, picking up his own drink. “But I can give you one little gem of wisdom: if you don’t love them, for God’s sake, don’t marry them. I don’t care who she is, don’t do it. Hell, it’s bad enough if you do love them.”
Danny’s lips twitched in a slight grin. “Thanks, amigo mio, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, not this time.” He sat up and gathered his own trash, then frowned as his phone started playing “La Vida Loca”. He smiled as he answered. “Martin? Que pasa?”
Jack’s own phone rang then, Viv, an update on the case.
They spent the rest of the afternoon chasing their asses, but in the late evening, Sam and Elena caught a break from a random comment made by a bartender, and they found their MP in a hotel love-nest with his mistress, oblivious to all the concern his absence had generated for his wife, his mother, his business partner, and his secretary - the latter two of whom he was also sleeping with.
“Christ, what a mess,” Jack muttered as the current mistress, draped in a sheet, her auburn hair pulling free of the tie and falling in wisps around her face and over her shoulders, burst into tears and screamed at their MP about his lies.
Danny winced as the lamp from the bedside table sailed through the air, crashing loudly against the far wall. “Martin still with the wife?”
Jack nodded. “Maybe he can console her,” he said, then grinned. “Might do him good to end up in a woman’s bed tonight.”
It’d been a long day and they’d all worked hard and were tired, so he was only a little surprised at Danny’s snarl. “He’d better not be.”
Jack held up a hand, placating. “Whoa, Tiger, I was kidding! You got a thing for her, too?”
Danny glared at him, but only for a second. “Sorry,” he snorted. “This is just such a fucking mess. I don’t think Martin needs to get any more messed up than he already is.”
Jack wasn’t quite sure what the comment meant, but when Danny smiled crookedly, he grinned as well. “Yeah, Martin does seem to have his share of issues,” he agreed, trying not to think of Sam.
“And you don’t even know the half of it,” Danny laughed.
Jack thought that his friend might have been making a reference to the “big secret” of Martin’s addiction to pain-killers - which Jack did happen to know about and which he kept thinking he ought to at least let Danny know that he knew about - but before he could pursue the matter, Danny’s cell phone was again playing “La Vida Loca”.
Danny was smiling as he put it to his ear. He was turning away as he answered, so Jack thought he might have misheard the words. “This, Martin, is why you should have a boyfriend.”
The sound of glass shattering as the mistress threw a glass at the wall broke him away from any further thoughts on the matter.
It was sometime around 6:30 a.m., just before the alarm went off to start the day, that the realization came to him. He was in that crossover place between dreaming and memory, where the barrier between subconscious and conscious was more fluid.
“La Vida Loca” swirled around Danny smiling while Martin rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment about the secretary sleeping with their MP and Elena said that most men were not to be trusted while smiling at Danny.
The idea was ludicrous. First off,. Martin Fitzgerald was Victor Fitzgerald’s son and Victor Fitzgerald would never allow for Martin to be anything other than white, straight, and perfect. While almost getting himself killed might give Martin a little leeway in his father’s eyes for living on the edge, Jack had no doubt whatsoever that experimenting with his sexuality was nowhere in that leeway, unless that experimentation was something like doing it in the shower. As long as all doors were locked and all windows covered.
Having sex with a man was completely out.
Add to that the fact that Martin had had a relationship with Sam, and Jack knew he had been on dates, at least, with other women - no, Martin was not looking for a love with Danny Taylor.
And even if, by some perverse freak accident of nature Martin were, Danny Taylor most certainly was not. He might not be in love with Elena, but he was definitely in love with the idea of women. Always had been, always would be. Danny loved women. He was a Casanova, a player, a tease, a flirt - he loved the sport of seduction, the passion of the chase and the satisfaction at the end of it.
No way.
He groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. Of course they were doing each other. It was the only thing more likely to screw up his team than his sleeping with Viv.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&
“Danny!” Elena smiled at him as she stepped into his path, knowing that no one was around but Martin, and he was on the far side of the room and concentrating on whatever was on his computer. “I missed you last night!”
He smiled down at her, but she saw the wariness in his eyes, and the way they flicked around the room, checking for anyone who might overhear. “I told you I had plans last night,” he said softly. “We talked about it.”
“I know,” she smiled, “but I thought you might come by after.”
He looked at her, confused. “Sofie would have been in bed - it was late. Why would I - “
She leaned in close, letting the top of her head brush his chin as she slowly looked up at him. “I thought you might come to see me,” she murmured quietly, and in the voice she knew he couldn’t resist.
She was rewarded with a hard swallow that this close she could actually hear.
“Elena,” he said, a little hoarsely, “I thought we agreed - “
“I know,” she pouted, knowing that her lips were full and shiny - she’d just put on the new gloss she bought last night - “but I’ve been thinking that it was wrong of me to be so inconsistent with you.” She stepped in closer, letting her hands fall to rest on his shoulders. “I think maybe you and I should talk about . . . things.”
“Things?” Danny’s voice cracked just a little and she thought he was looking flushed. Good. Just the way she wanted him.
“You were right, sweetie,” she purred, using the words all men wanted to hear in the voice that no man could deny. “I‘ve thought about it a lot for the past several weeks and I think I am ready, now, to make a commitment. It’s time I put Carlos behind us and did what was best for both Sofia and for myself.”
She let her smile widen, knowing that she had just made him the happiest man in the world.
So why, then, was he looking like someone had run over his motorcycle?
There was a noise from somewhere behind her, and Danny’s head jerked. As she turned to see what was going on, she felt him pull away from her, stepping back, and she felt a slight alarm that it was Jack or one of their superiors -
But it was only Martin. He was standing, facing them, his hands clenched at his sides.
In her relief, she only passingly noticed how pale he looked, his blue eyes wide and prominent, and how still he stood, as if he wasn’t breathing.
But she did notice the way Danny moved past her, so fast that he left a breeze in his wake.
And she noticed the way he moved in front of Martin, blocking her view of their colleague, and the way his hands found Martin’s shoulders, bracing the other man as if he were ill.
But mostly, she noticed the way he leaned into Martin, whispering in his ear, the way one hand slid slowly down Martin’s arm to his hand, squeezing tightly but quickly before moving back up to his elbow.
The touches were odd, but Danny and Martin were friends - close ones, if what she had seen over the past few months was any indication. Certainly she knew that often, when she called Danny, he was with Martin.
With Martin.
She stared at them, watching Danny’s hand move up and down Martin’s arm, watched the top of Martin’ head over Danny’s shoulder. Martin was looking down, but then - then he was looking up, at Danny. Because Danny’s other hand as under Martin’s chin, his thumb stroking the side of Martin’s lips.
Just as he had done to her when she had cried about losing Sofie. Then about Carlos being released because of her screw-up. Then because Danny had said he wasn’t sure it was going to work with them.
Because Martin wasn’t crying, but those blue eyes were wide and hurt.
And scared.
Elena took one step, then two more, slow and unsure. She was having a hard time getting her mind to work on one track - one part of it translated what she was seeing one way, and the other part couldn’t make sense of it at all. It just wasn’t possible for this to be what her eyes kept telling her it was - Danny was hers. Danny loved her, loved having sex with her, loved Sofie, loved the idea of them being family. But foremost, Danny loved her.
So - what reason was there for him to be touching Martin that way, to be reassuring him, to be leaning in so close that they were almost kissing?
But they weren’t kissing. She straightened her shoulders and took another, more decisive step forward. Martin must be sick, and Danny was helping him. Of course, that was what it had to be.
Danny turned then, still between her and Martin. He smiled at her, and she felt a sudden relief. She was just being silly - what in the world was she thinking?
She reached out a hand to him, and he took it - well, sort of. It was more like an interception, she thought, his fingers catching hers before they could touch any other part of him.
“Elena,” he said quietly, “I don’t think you understand. I . . . I’m flattered that you want to try again, that you want us to try again.”
She frowned, tightening her grip on his hand. “Then it is settled,” she smiled at him. “Tonight, we will talk about - “
“Tonight, I have plans,” he said quietly. “In fact, every night I have plans.”
She stared at him, her brain once more divided into what appeared to be real and what she knew could not be. “Wha - “
He gently pushed her hand away from him and then let it go. Stepping back, he looked at Martin, who looked up at him. “Every night,” he repeated in a whisper.
Martin didn’t say anything, but the tension in his lean body drained away. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blink, hell, he didn’t even breathe.
But suddenly he was the only person in the room. Certainly, Elena knew that she wasn’t, not to Danny anyway.
She had no sense of how long they stood there, her staring at them, them staring at each other. No sense at all of what had just happened.
“Listen up, people,” Jack’s voice called, breaking the spell. “Gotta new case.” He walked into the room briskly, straight to the white board where he tacked up an 8x10 picture of their new MP. “Brandi Louise Mason, 27, unmarried, disappeared from her boyfriend’s apartment about midnight last night, didn’t make it to work this morning, isn’t at home. Reason this has hit us so soon is because her father is testifying before a Federal Judge in two days in a Racketeering case. Danny, you and Martin take the boyfriend, Elena, you and I are going to where she worked. Sam’s meeting with the father who’s in protective custody and Viv’s meeting with the Federal Prosecutor. Let’s move it, people, we don’t have any time to play on this one.”
She nodded, moving to her desk to grab her coat and bag.
But as she followed Jack out of the office, she turned in time to catch Danny’s eye. He smiled at her, but it was sad.
“Something in the water,” Jack said quietly as they moved through the door and out of sight of their collective office.
“What?” she asked, refocusing her attention on him.
He glanced at her and smiled quickly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a passing thing. Gotta be.”
Jack knew?
But before she could let that thought take hold, they were in the elevator and he was talking about the case.
By the time they closed the case two days later, she had convinced herself that she had imagined most of it. Danny was just playing hard to get. He was angry because she had taken so long to commit to him - and she could understand that. He would come around when he realized that she wasn’t playing with him this time, when he realized that she was serious and committed to their relationship.
So she smiled and waved, surprising him, she knew, as he left, Martin at his side.
Danny was hers. He and Martin were friends - a man needed those.
Now - what was Viv laughing about?
Author: Edward G. Hoover
Recipient: le_mot_mo
Rating:Well - no sex, even though someone thinks about it . . . R?
Warnings: suggestions of het sex, and suggestions of male intimacy
2. Discovery fic. The kind where the boys have been together for a while and then the rest of the team discovers their relationship (not because they were caught making out, but in some other way) and they are stunned.
Viv knew. She wasn’t sure how she knew but she knew that she knew because she wasn’t surprised when she got confirmation.
It wasn’t overt - nothing between the two of them ever was. That was one of the reasons why she thought it should have surprised her more, because she had never seen anything to vaguely hint that the two men were anything other than co-workers, partners on occasion, and on good days, when a case was going well, friends. And - wasn’t Danny seeing Elena? Something was going on with the two of them, or had been for at least the past six months.
It was a Saturday morning, and that in itself was a surprise; she had known Danny Taylor for almost seven years, and one thing he had always maintained was that any morning he wasn’t at work was a morning he was going to be in bed. Preferably with someone else.
But there he was, in the center of the bed linen aisle, his hands running appreciatively over a royal blue flannel sheet set, queen-sized, making little noises of pleasure.
The giveaway, though, was when he lifted the sheet to Martin’s head, then used one hand to turn Martin’s chin so that he could compare the color of the sheet to Martin’s eyes.
As if she needed more conclusive proof, the soft caress to Martin’s cheek as Martin rolled his eyes nailed it.
All that remained was - there is was.
“Viv!”
The flush that completely discolored Martin’s face when his rolling eyes caught sight of her at the end of the aisle, watching them.
Too late, Martin jerked away and Danny pulled away, and the sheet set landed in the floor.
She smiled at them, shaking her head. “Danny’s right,” she said with a grin. “Those sheets do suit your eyes.” She walked over, chuckling as Danny tensed and Martin actually backed a step away, almost falling into the shelving unit itself. Lowering her voice, she said conspiratorially, “I don’t advise bringing in any pictures to show off, though. Jack might not be as amused.” With that, and the message it implied, she turned on her heel. “See you boys Monday.” At the end of the aisle, she turned and looked back over her shoulder, chuckling more when she found them in the same positions they had been in, unable to move. “I doubt I need to say this, but - have a good weekend.”
She smiled to herself as she walked toward the boy’s department to find Reggie another pair of jeans, and wondering how long it was going to take Elena to figure it out.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&
“Coffee?” Sam leaned on Martin’s desk, watching as the smile that had been playing at the corner of his lips died when he saw it was her.
But he was a gentleman, as ever. “Um, thanks, but I need to finish up this report. I promised to have it in Jack’s e-mail before I left today.” He did smile at her then, but it was the flash smile he used, his ‘friendly’ smile, as she thought of it.
And thinking of it made her miss the one she used to know, the high-voltage, ‘you’re-the-center-of-my-world’ smile that had been for her alone before she squandered it away.
“I’m buying,” she countered, trying not to remember other things about him, the feel of his arms around her, safe and secure, the way his body was always so willing, so easily coerced into whatever she wanted to do. Trying not to remember waking up beside him, his morning erection warm against her hip, slipping deftly into her as she rolled him onto his back, or the look of surprise in his sleepy eyes as he awakened to the rhythm she set.
“Thanks, Sam,” he answered, but he looked confused. “I really need - “
“You’re almost done,” she said, reaching past him to point at the monitor. “You were just about to sign off on the electronic signature.” She grinned down at him, watching the faint blush that crept up his elegant neck. “I’ve worked with you for over five years, Martin. I’ve watched you file your reports.” And waited for you to finish, she added mentally, remembering that time she had dragged him through the deserted building into the ladies’ room, the feel of him taking her against the bathroom stall, the blood on his lip afterwards, where he had bitten himself to keep from crying out when he came.
“I need to re-read it,” he said, blinking then looking away.
She straightened, blinking herself. Martin was lying to her. “You never sign it before you’re ready to send it,” she said before she could stop herself. “What’s up with you?”
The blush this time flooded upward, rising as far as his forehead. She almost laughed, but her feelings were actually hurt, she realized, and that made her angry.
“I’ve really got stuff to do, Sam,” he countered, leaning forward. “Thanks, maybe some other time.”
She stared at his back, knowing that by the rigid set of his broad shoulders, she wasn’t going to get anything else out of him. That was standard Martin Fitzgerald behavior.
“Right. Fine.” She turned and moved to her desk, her arms crossed over his breasts. “Whatever.” She jerked up her coat and handbag, her anger mounting as the shock of the lie -lies, now, she was convinced - changed to insult.
She didn’t look back as she stormed out of the large room, even more angry when she couldn’t slam a door behind her - they all had closers on them in the central part of the building.
She was off the elevator and on the ground floor of the FBI building when she realized she had forgotten her cell phone; it had been on her desk, attached to its charger, and in her temper she hadn’t been as thorough in packing up to leave. Snarling, she waited impatiently for the elevator cart to arrive, then punched the floor button at least three times before it got moving. She was tapping her foot when the doors parted, stepping out into the hallway and striding toward the doorway to their unit.
Laughter slowed her, though, not so much because of its loudness in the empty floor, but because of its familiarity; Martin, definitely, but also Danny. What was Danny doing back? Hadn’t he left over an hour ago? Hadn’t he mentioned having big plans for the evening, a special date with the love of his life - which they all knew meant Elena?
But there he was, she saw as she peered into their work area, dressed in black slacks, a burgundy silk shirt, and a black leather jacket - dressed to kill, she knew. Special date clothes, as Danny had taught her.
Only, his hands were tugging at the knot on Martin’s lavender tie, and she had to stop herself from even considering the idea that it was because he wanted to borrow it - not only was it lavender, it was one of Martin’s more hideous ones.
The tie fell away, but not, as she had hoped, into the trash can. Instead, Danny was folding it on itself respectfully before tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. His hands rose to unbutton the top button of Martin’s shirt, then the one under it, before adjusting the lines in the collar and brushing familiarly through Martin’s hair. All the while, they were talking, and smiling, and still laughing.
Just like she had done with Martin when they were together.
There was no kiss, no tell-tale sexual overture, but there didn’t have to be. It was there, she realized, in the way Martin’s body leaned toward Danny, like a flower toward the sun. In the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he looked at the other man. In the ‘you’re-the-center-of-my-world’ smile.
And damned if Danny didn’t have the same smile.
She watched as Danny pulled Martin’s jacket off the back of his chair and held it out, Martin slipping into it without a thought, talking about whatever he was talking about. He hardly paused as Danny handed him his backpack then switched off his light.
It was as they started toward the door that Sam decided to move; part of her wanted to move into their path, to glare at them, especially Martin, and make them explain what they thought they were doing. They weren’t gay - Martin certainly wasn’t gay. And Danny - he had left with Elena just last night, hadn’t he? What the hell were they playing at?
But another part of her, the bigger part, slipped down the hall and through the door into Jack’s office. The blinds were drawn and he wasn’t in - a night with the girls, she knew, he had told her they were flying in from Chicago for a long weekend with him - so she could hide in here, peaking out to see her two co-workers.
Her two friends, she reminded herself. Two friends. One of whom was a former lover.
No, she corrected herself with a sigh. Martin might have loved her, but she had never allowed herself to love him.
So he’d found love somewhere else - somewhere she certainly wouldn’t have expected. But watching as Danny laughed at something Martin said, casually reaching over and squeezing Martin’s shoulder, then lightly touching his back as he let Martin lead them into the elevator, she knew that he had, indeed, found it.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*
“So - Elena?”
Danny blinked at him, his turkey sandwich stopping its trajectory to his mouth. “Huh?” he asked ineloquently.
Jack snorted, watching the other man as he took a bite of his meatball sub. After he chewed for a second, and Danny had managed to get a bite as well, he asked again, “You’re in love with her - and don’t lie to me, Taylor, we’ve known each other too long.”
“And had this conversation too many times to do it again,” Danny rejoined with a grin.
But even as Jack laughed, amused, he noticed that Danny looked a little uncomfortable.
“Now that Carlos is out of the picture, you two planning the wedding?” Jack asked, taking another bite and trying not to get marinara sauce on his white shirt.
“Wha- oh, no, well, no, I mean - “
Jack stopped chewing, staring across the table at his friend. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Danny this flustered - certainly not in a conversation about a woman, not even Elena. It was nice though - different. Much better than the anger that had haunted all of their conversations until recently, when Carlos had finally made the mistake of coming after Elena and Jack had been there to stop him. Danny had finally forgiven him.
“Christ,” he said, swallowing. “This must be serious.” He tried to keep it light - their relationship was just getting back to solid ground.
Danny reached for his soda, taking a long drink. And another.
Avoiding the topic.
“Danny?” Jack asked, worried. “Is it everything all right? I assumed that now that Carlos is gone and you two can be together -
“No, no, Jack,” Danny held up a hand, laughing. But it was loud, forced. “Everything’s fine. Really - fine. Good.”
Jack arched one eyebrow. “Good,” he repeated, watching the other man.
“Fine,” Danny nodded, smiling.
Jack shook his head. “You broken if off with her?”
Danny sighed. “Not yet. I . . . jeez, Jack, it’s all so complicated.”
“No conflict, no interest?” Jack asked, still trying to keep things light.
Danny flinched, his dark eyes turning sharply to stare at Jack.
“What?” the older man asked, confused.
“Have you been - “ Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds.
“What, Danny?” Jack persisted, sitting up straighter.
Danny shook his head, then opened his eyes, plastering on a smile. “Nothing, sorry,” he said, “you just sounded like - well, never mind.” He shook his head, chuckling softly.
Jack frowned, curbing his annoyance. “So you and Elena are done?”
Danny was looking out the window and at first, Jack thought the other man was pretending that he didn’t hear. But as he debated whether to push it - he wasn’t certain if he wanted to shatter the tenuous thread of friendship he was trying to weave once more between them, Danny sighed.
“I . . . don’t know,” he said quietly. “I really like her, Jack, and I adore Sophie. I’ve always wanted kids, you know?” He shifted, staring at the people streaming along the sidewalk. “But I . . . “
“You what?” Jack urged quietly.
Danny sat silent, the fingers of one hand tapping slowly on the table.
Jack sat back, watching his friend. “You don’t love her.” He noted the wince, and the way Danny’s gaze dropped.
Worse, though, was the strange sadness that seemed to settle around him.
“Oh my god,” Jack breathed. “You’re in love with someone else?”
Danny jerked then, and for the briefest instance, as he turned, Jack saw a sort of terror in his dark eyes. “Christ, Jack!” The words were loud enough to draw attention, and for a few seconds, there was quiet around them as the other diners, in traditional New York City fashion, stopped to look at them in annoyance and general nosiness.
Then, as nothing else was said, the hubbub returned and Danny let out his breath. More quietly, he said, “I don’t love Elena, no, you’re right. I thought I did - I want to be in love with her. I do.” He sighed, rubbing at his forehead.
“So - who’s the other chick?” Jack asked quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to them - then realizing that it was stupid as there was no one here who knew them.
“There’s not another chick,” Danny said, his fingers rubbing over the bridge of his nose. “It’s just -it’s complicated, Jack. I don’t know . . . “ He sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Jack frowned, folding up the trash from his lunch. “Well, I can’t help you if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said, picking up his own drink. “But I can give you one little gem of wisdom: if you don’t love them, for God’s sake, don’t marry them. I don’t care who she is, don’t do it. Hell, it’s bad enough if you do love them.”
Danny’s lips twitched in a slight grin. “Thanks, amigo mio, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, not this time.” He sat up and gathered his own trash, then frowned as his phone started playing “La Vida Loca”. He smiled as he answered. “Martin? Que pasa?”
Jack’s own phone rang then, Viv, an update on the case.
They spent the rest of the afternoon chasing their asses, but in the late evening, Sam and Elena caught a break from a random comment made by a bartender, and they found their MP in a hotel love-nest with his mistress, oblivious to all the concern his absence had generated for his wife, his mother, his business partner, and his secretary - the latter two of whom he was also sleeping with.
“Christ, what a mess,” Jack muttered as the current mistress, draped in a sheet, her auburn hair pulling free of the tie and falling in wisps around her face and over her shoulders, burst into tears and screamed at their MP about his lies.
Danny winced as the lamp from the bedside table sailed through the air, crashing loudly against the far wall. “Martin still with the wife?”
Jack nodded. “Maybe he can console her,” he said, then grinned. “Might do him good to end up in a woman’s bed tonight.”
It’d been a long day and they’d all worked hard and were tired, so he was only a little surprised at Danny’s snarl. “He’d better not be.”
Jack held up a hand, placating. “Whoa, Tiger, I was kidding! You got a thing for her, too?”
Danny glared at him, but only for a second. “Sorry,” he snorted. “This is just such a fucking mess. I don’t think Martin needs to get any more messed up than he already is.”
Jack wasn’t quite sure what the comment meant, but when Danny smiled crookedly, he grinned as well. “Yeah, Martin does seem to have his share of issues,” he agreed, trying not to think of Sam.
“And you don’t even know the half of it,” Danny laughed.
Jack thought that his friend might have been making a reference to the “big secret” of Martin’s addiction to pain-killers - which Jack did happen to know about and which he kept thinking he ought to at least let Danny know that he knew about - but before he could pursue the matter, Danny’s cell phone was again playing “La Vida Loca”.
Danny was smiling as he put it to his ear. He was turning away as he answered, so Jack thought he might have misheard the words. “This, Martin, is why you should have a boyfriend.”
The sound of glass shattering as the mistress threw a glass at the wall broke him away from any further thoughts on the matter.
It was sometime around 6:30 a.m., just before the alarm went off to start the day, that the realization came to him. He was in that crossover place between dreaming and memory, where the barrier between subconscious and conscious was more fluid.
“La Vida Loca” swirled around Danny smiling while Martin rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment about the secretary sleeping with their MP and Elena said that most men were not to be trusted while smiling at Danny.
The idea was ludicrous. First off,. Martin Fitzgerald was Victor Fitzgerald’s son and Victor Fitzgerald would never allow for Martin to be anything other than white, straight, and perfect. While almost getting himself killed might give Martin a little leeway in his father’s eyes for living on the edge, Jack had no doubt whatsoever that experimenting with his sexuality was nowhere in that leeway, unless that experimentation was something like doing it in the shower. As long as all doors were locked and all windows covered.
Having sex with a man was completely out.
Add to that the fact that Martin had had a relationship with Sam, and Jack knew he had been on dates, at least, with other women - no, Martin was not looking for a love with Danny Taylor.
And even if, by some perverse freak accident of nature Martin were, Danny Taylor most certainly was not. He might not be in love with Elena, but he was definitely in love with the idea of women. Always had been, always would be. Danny loved women. He was a Casanova, a player, a tease, a flirt - he loved the sport of seduction, the passion of the chase and the satisfaction at the end of it.
No way.
He groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. Of course they were doing each other. It was the only thing more likely to screw up his team than his sleeping with Viv.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&
“Danny!” Elena smiled at him as she stepped into his path, knowing that no one was around but Martin, and he was on the far side of the room and concentrating on whatever was on his computer. “I missed you last night!”
He smiled down at her, but she saw the wariness in his eyes, and the way they flicked around the room, checking for anyone who might overhear. “I told you I had plans last night,” he said softly. “We talked about it.”
“I know,” she smiled, “but I thought you might come by after.”
He looked at her, confused. “Sofie would have been in bed - it was late. Why would I - “
She leaned in close, letting the top of her head brush his chin as she slowly looked up at him. “I thought you might come to see me,” she murmured quietly, and in the voice she knew he couldn’t resist.
She was rewarded with a hard swallow that this close she could actually hear.
“Elena,” he said, a little hoarsely, “I thought we agreed - “
“I know,” she pouted, knowing that her lips were full and shiny - she’d just put on the new gloss she bought last night - “but I’ve been thinking that it was wrong of me to be so inconsistent with you.” She stepped in closer, letting her hands fall to rest on his shoulders. “I think maybe you and I should talk about . . . things.”
“Things?” Danny’s voice cracked just a little and she thought he was looking flushed. Good. Just the way she wanted him.
“You were right, sweetie,” she purred, using the words all men wanted to hear in the voice that no man could deny. “I‘ve thought about it a lot for the past several weeks and I think I am ready, now, to make a commitment. It’s time I put Carlos behind us and did what was best for both Sofia and for myself.”
She let her smile widen, knowing that she had just made him the happiest man in the world.
So why, then, was he looking like someone had run over his motorcycle?
There was a noise from somewhere behind her, and Danny’s head jerked. As she turned to see what was going on, she felt him pull away from her, stepping back, and she felt a slight alarm that it was Jack or one of their superiors -
But it was only Martin. He was standing, facing them, his hands clenched at his sides.
In her relief, she only passingly noticed how pale he looked, his blue eyes wide and prominent, and how still he stood, as if he wasn’t breathing.
But she did notice the way Danny moved past her, so fast that he left a breeze in his wake.
And she noticed the way he moved in front of Martin, blocking her view of their colleague, and the way his hands found Martin’s shoulders, bracing the other man as if he were ill.
But mostly, she noticed the way he leaned into Martin, whispering in his ear, the way one hand slid slowly down Martin’s arm to his hand, squeezing tightly but quickly before moving back up to his elbow.
The touches were odd, but Danny and Martin were friends - close ones, if what she had seen over the past few months was any indication. Certainly she knew that often, when she called Danny, he was with Martin.
With Martin.
She stared at them, watching Danny’s hand move up and down Martin’s arm, watched the top of Martin’ head over Danny’s shoulder. Martin was looking down, but then - then he was looking up, at Danny. Because Danny’s other hand as under Martin’s chin, his thumb stroking the side of Martin’s lips.
Just as he had done to her when she had cried about losing Sofie. Then about Carlos being released because of her screw-up. Then because Danny had said he wasn’t sure it was going to work with them.
Because Martin wasn’t crying, but those blue eyes were wide and hurt.
And scared.
Elena took one step, then two more, slow and unsure. She was having a hard time getting her mind to work on one track - one part of it translated what she was seeing one way, and the other part couldn’t make sense of it at all. It just wasn’t possible for this to be what her eyes kept telling her it was - Danny was hers. Danny loved her, loved having sex with her, loved Sofie, loved the idea of them being family. But foremost, Danny loved her.
So - what reason was there for him to be touching Martin that way, to be reassuring him, to be leaning in so close that they were almost kissing?
But they weren’t kissing. She straightened her shoulders and took another, more decisive step forward. Martin must be sick, and Danny was helping him. Of course, that was what it had to be.
Danny turned then, still between her and Martin. He smiled at her, and she felt a sudden relief. She was just being silly - what in the world was she thinking?
She reached out a hand to him, and he took it - well, sort of. It was more like an interception, she thought, his fingers catching hers before they could touch any other part of him.
“Elena,” he said quietly, “I don’t think you understand. I . . . I’m flattered that you want to try again, that you want us to try again.”
She frowned, tightening her grip on his hand. “Then it is settled,” she smiled at him. “Tonight, we will talk about - “
“Tonight, I have plans,” he said quietly. “In fact, every night I have plans.”
She stared at him, her brain once more divided into what appeared to be real and what she knew could not be. “Wha - “
He gently pushed her hand away from him and then let it go. Stepping back, he looked at Martin, who looked up at him. “Every night,” he repeated in a whisper.
Martin didn’t say anything, but the tension in his lean body drained away. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blink, hell, he didn’t even breathe.
But suddenly he was the only person in the room. Certainly, Elena knew that she wasn’t, not to Danny anyway.
She had no sense of how long they stood there, her staring at them, them staring at each other. No sense at all of what had just happened.
“Listen up, people,” Jack’s voice called, breaking the spell. “Gotta new case.” He walked into the room briskly, straight to the white board where he tacked up an 8x10 picture of their new MP. “Brandi Louise Mason, 27, unmarried, disappeared from her boyfriend’s apartment about midnight last night, didn’t make it to work this morning, isn’t at home. Reason this has hit us so soon is because her father is testifying before a Federal Judge in two days in a Racketeering case. Danny, you and Martin take the boyfriend, Elena, you and I are going to where she worked. Sam’s meeting with the father who’s in protective custody and Viv’s meeting with the Federal Prosecutor. Let’s move it, people, we don’t have any time to play on this one.”
She nodded, moving to her desk to grab her coat and bag.
But as she followed Jack out of the office, she turned in time to catch Danny’s eye. He smiled at her, but it was sad.
“Something in the water,” Jack said quietly as they moved through the door and out of sight of their collective office.
“What?” she asked, refocusing her attention on him.
He glanced at her and smiled quickly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a passing thing. Gotta be.”
Jack knew?
But before she could let that thought take hold, they were in the elevator and he was talking about the case.
By the time they closed the case two days later, she had convinced herself that she had imagined most of it. Danny was just playing hard to get. He was angry because she had taken so long to commit to him - and she could understand that. He would come around when he realized that she wasn’t playing with him this time, when he realized that she was serious and committed to their relationship.
So she smiled and waved, surprising him, she knew, as he left, Martin at his side.
Danny was hers. He and Martin were friends - a man needed those.
Now - what was Viv laughing about?