Lost fic: Poker Face
Title: Poker Face
Characters: Jim Sawyer Ford, Miles Straume
Word Count: 7555
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: uneasy attitudes about homosexuality
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of the characters, blah, blah
Beta: The always helpful and marvellous siluria. Thank you, darling!
Author’s Notes: I wrote this one for gottalovev and it was supposed to be a birthday present. Needless to say, it's rather late! Hope you enjoy it anyway, Lou! *hugs*
This fic features Miles/Jim as cops in the sideways 'verse in an AU of my own invention.
Miles wakes up after a night of poker playing with Jim… naked in Jim's bed, and he's not alone.
NB: this fic can also be read here at AO3
Miles blinked awake, his head throbbing. The sunlight streaming in over the bed from the uncurtained window was too bright for him to appreciate where he was for a moment - or who he was with - and he frowned at the pain in his head, trying to recall last night.
It was only after the body next to him shifted and sighed that he realised why the place was recognizable enough but not quite as familiar as his own home.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, tensing up as he took a proper look at the arm slung across his naked stomach. "This cannot be real."
Slowly, he turned his head sideways after a few long moments of staring at the very male arm. Upon confirmation of its owner's identity, he shut his eyes and counted silently to ten. Opening them again, he realised it made absolutely no difference.
He'd really done it this time if he'd drunk so much he'd ended up in bed with Jim. Swallowing guiltily, he tried to remember any part of the previous evening which would indicate how this had happened. They'd gone out for a beer to commiserate over the Red Sox losing the World Series (Miles) and a fiery redhead who'd had the gall to ditch Jim before he got tired of her (Jim). Miles could vaguely remember the beers turning into shots and coming back to Jim's to play poker, but from there it was all a mysterious blur.
Miles shifted experimentally, wincing as the movement made Jim snort and turn over. Miles kept still, heart beating wildly, until he was sure Jim was still asleep. Carefully, he lifted the sheet, hoping like hell this was way more innocent than it looked.
No such luck. He was completely naked and so was Jim. The faint odour of last night's activity was all too apparent, although Miles couldn't remember a thing to suggest they'd done what he didn't want to believe was true. How in hell? He didn't do guys; Jim didn't do guys; neither of them was gay. It just didn't make any sense.
There was only one thing to do to minimise the embarrassment they'd both be feeling if Jim woke up and found him here; he had to leave, and right now.
Miles slid carefully out of the bed, eyes on Jim's slumbering form the whole time. He finally took a breath as he let go of the bed and cast about for his clothes. The pain of his hangover came back in force as he collected his underwear from the chair at the end of Jim's bed. His shorts, and what he assumed were Jim's - flung carelessly at the floor by the chair - were the only items of clothing in the room.
Stepping quietly out the door, Miles glanced back at Jim. He narrowed his eyes, wondering dully for one second if Jim was feigning sleep because he actually knew what had happened and wasn't happy about it either. But he looked completely out of it; his breathing too regular and deep to be faked.
Carefully, Miles shut the door and shimmied into his shorts in the short hallway before stepping into the living area in search of the rest of his clothes.
Fuck! They had to have started out here. Two pairs of familiar jeans and shirts, as well as Jim's favourite leather jacket and the denim one Miles had worn last night were strewn about as if they couldn't get them off fast enough. This was beyond surreal.
He grabbed his own gear and started donning it, searching the room for clues. There was half a glass of what looked like bourbon on the counter between the living area and the kitchen, with a half-smoked cigarette turned to a long line of ash in an ashtray next to it, and a messy pile of playing cards. A bar stool was lying on its side on the floor nearby. Another glass was on the floor by that; the remainder of its contents staining the rug under it.
It had to have just been the two of them; there was no evidence of any further occupants in the room. Miles tugged up his jeans, turning his eyes heavenward as a vague ache in his ass began to make itself known and brought home the reality of exactly what they must have done. Why the fuck did he have to be the one who bent over? He'd never be able to look Jim in the eye, let alone bend over innocently in front of him again if the man had any more clue than Miles about last night's events.
Miles had to believe Jim was as drunk as he'd been; that he'd be as clueless when he woke up. There was no other way he could handle it. Cautiously moving his tongue around his foul-tasting mouth, he hoped like hell it was only alcohol making it taste that way. The image of just what else he might have been doing with it sent him spinning towards the kitchen sink, his stomach heaving. He managed to control it, but it took a few minutes. He was sweating by the time he managed to fumble a glass under the cold water and gulp down half its contents.
The rest he splashed straight into his face and, dumping the glass in the sink next to the empty bourbon bottle there, rubbed into his skin as if he could wash away the past night's sins.
He had to get out of there. Where were his fucking shoes? Miles took a steadying breath before making his way back into the hallway. Thank fucking Christ. His sneakers were neatly tucked to one side of the door. Somehow, drunk as he must have been when they got here, he hadn't completely lost his mind until he and Jim had worked their way through a damned sight more alcohol.
Death from alcohol poisoning wouldn't be a bad thing at this point as far as he was concerned. Miles pulled his shoes on roughly, not even bothering to lace them as he rapidly left the scene of the crime.
~//~
"So, couldn't get away fast enough, eh?" Jim smirked as he sauntered in through the door of the station break room.
Mile gripped his coffee cup tightly and turned to face his partner, studying his handsome face for clues as to how much the man actually remembered about last night's encounter. "With you so drunk you couldn't count your own feet? You bet." He hoped the way his pulse was pounding wasn't obvious as he made his way to a chair and set his cup down on the table, then balanced himself carefully on two legs of the chair and watched Jim pour coffee for himself.
"Must have been one hell of a poker game, Hoss. Can't remember a damned thing. Although…" He paused, stirring in way too much sugar and then turned, parking his ass against the counter and studying Miles curiously.
"What?" Miles knew there was an edge to the word, but he couldn't take it back now. He dropped his eyes to his cup and slammed the legs of the chair back to the floor before taking a careful sip of coffee.
"You sure it was just us? I could swear… there was someone in bed with me when I woke up later, but then I passed out again. Whoever she was, she was gone by the time daylight hit me."
"You mean your libido fooled you into hallucinating that you didn't strike out?" Miles took too large a gulp of hot liquid and almost choked on it, his heart-rate thudding even faster at the deflection.
Jim snorted, chugged from his own cup and gazed at Miles with an eyebrow raised. "I never strike out; not when I'm serious. Unlike you, Jackie Chan; action star of the future. All I gotta do is wink at 'em and they come running for some Ford-love."
Miles laughed out loud at that, hoping his hysteria wasn't coming through.
"What? You don't believe me?" Jim pushed off the counter-edge and shook his head, smirk firmly in place. "Shows how much you know."
Miles snorted and stood up. "We should get going, anyway. Got that junkie to find, remember?"
"Like he's gonna have any decent info for us, but yeah, okay, Hot-shot. Lead the way."
~//~
"So, poker again tonight?" Jim asked as they finished up the paperwork on the arrest they'd just made. The junkie's information was better than they'd hoped.
"You really want the punishment?" Miles asked, closing the file and shoving it in a drawer. "Thought last night was enough?"
Miles's heart was beating faster than it should be again, though it seemed clear from today's conversations that Jim didn't have a clue what had really happened the night before - unless he was trying to figure it out himself and tonight's invitation was part of the investigation.
"C'mon, you gotta give me a chance to win some of it back."
"How do you know I won if you can't remember anything?"
Jim eyed him sideways as they left the building. "No cash in my wallet this morning. No matter how much we drank last night, I doubt we got through the two hundred I took outta my account yesterday."
"All right, but I'm warning you now, I'm stayin' sober."
Jim laughed. "I'm bound to win then."
~//~
Despite what he'd said, Miles found himself drinking more and more as the time passed. He was holding his own with the cards but he wasn't so sure about anything else. Jim was looking decidedly sexy across the table from him, and if he didn't know better, Miles would have said the guy was flirting with him.
"Fuck it," Jim said after Miles won yet another hand, and threw his cards down in mock disgust. "Thought you were gonna give me a shot here. You and your damned poker face." He stood up and headed for the counter where the next unopened bottle of bourbon waited.
"You had your chance, buddy. So, you out for the night, then? I should probably get going."
Jim turned around, glass in hand and smirked, waggling his eyebrows. "You got a date or somethin'? I didn't say I was done."
Miles took another swig from his glass and purposely looked away. Jim was giving him that sexy look he usually reserved for the ladies. Miles wondered if this is what had happened the night before; if his drinking had made Jim look even better than he already did. Shit! He wasn't gay; what on earth was he thinking?
"You still think the tide's gonna turn, huh? Look, I should go before I get as wasted as last night." Miles made to stand up, but his feet got caught in the chair and he ended up on his ass.
Jim laughed, put down his drink and stepped over to give him a hand. "You sure you ain't already there, Hustler?"
The word 'hustler' did funny things to Miles' guts and he simply stared up at Jim from where he lay, swallowing deeply as his partner loomed over him.
"You gonna lie there all night? What? I do somethin'?" Jim looked confused, but sexy as hell with his shirt half-open and his blue jeans stretched tight across his crotch. Hell, he looked way too good tonight.
Jim's smile began to stretch, and he reached down and grabbed Miles' hand, pulling him upwards before Miles was quite ready. As a result, Miles over-balanced and ended up clutching Jim to stop from tipping them both over in the opposite direction. Jim's arms went around Miles and he laughed again, low and dirty. "Well, howdy, pardner."
Miles closed his eyes for a second, feeling the rumble of the words and laughter against his chest. God, it felt good, and Jim smelt amazing. Whatever cologne he was using was like some kind of aphrodisiac.
Shit! Miles blinked his eyes abruptly and pushed away from Jim. "I'm not your date, cowboy."
"You seemed to think you were last night," Jim grinned. "Come on…"
"Fuck you, asshole!" Miles jumped back a couple of feet. "You knew! I was drunk outta my head last night! You took advantage!"
"Hey, hey… easy there, fella. I didn't know you didn't want it! When you peeled out like there was a fire under your ass this morning while I was still half-asleep, I figured I'd read it all wrong. Didn't want to spook you so I kept my mouth shut."
"Well, I'm spooked, okay? I'm fucking spooked." Miles scraped his hands through his hair and stared at Jim with new eyes. "You seduced me! How long… Jesus, Jim; since when were you gay?"
"Keep it together, Miles. I ain't gay; I still like the ladies. I just… shit, you looked so damned hot last night, and you were being so flirty… I just figured what the heck; why not go with it? You sure as hell weren't fighting me off."
"What… what did we do?" Miles felt ill. He wasn't certain he wanted to know the answer, although he was pretty sure he already knew at least one thing they'd definitely done.
Jim's dimples were still on full. "I could show you. Think you'll remember this time?"
"Fuck…" Miles backed up a few more steps, heart thudding.
"Come on… I ain't gonna hurt you." Jim moved closer and suddenly Miles found a hard wall behind him, his sexy partner mere inches away, and most appallingly, his cock had gone hard.
"You liked it last night," Jim whispered right against his ear and then, incredibly, licked a long stripe under it on the sensitive skin of Miles' neck.
Miles shivered and let out a low groan. "Christ… you… you… I don't…"
Jim started sucking where he'd licked and his hand was simultaneously on Miles' crotch, stroking his heated dick through the denim.
"Oh, fuck it." Miles surrendered and pulled Jim's face around until their mouths met. The kiss was long, wet and as hot as any he'd ever shared with a woman. In fact, it felt a damned sight better than many he'd experienced. The hand on his dick wasn't hurting any either, and although this was definitely not what he'd expected tonight - or any night - with Jim, he wasn't fighting it any more.
Jim's fingers worked their way up Miles' shaft through his jeans and squeezed lightly at the head, making him buck, then they found the fly and rapidly unfastened it as Jim's mouth latched onto Miles' neck again. Who knew he was that damned sensitive there?
A hot hand encircled his dick under the waistband of his briefs, and Miles let out a needy sound, rocking into Jim's touch.
"Oh, you're hot when you're this turned on; anyone ever tell you?"
Miles couldn't even answer in words. What seemed to his own ears like a kind of gurgling sound just got worse as Jim dropped to his knees, pulled Miles's pants and underwear down and engulfed his cock in his moist, heated mouth, all in virtually one movement.
"Christ!" Miles hit his head against the wall as Jim began to move. But he couldn't not look at the amazing visual of his goddamned working partner raising the hottest look up at him as the man's mouth continued its incredible journey towards an orgasm for Miles.
And it wasn't long in coming. Miles tried to warn Jim, but the man either didn't understand what 'Fuck, fuck, now, man…' and rapid tugging at his long hair meant, or he just didn't care. Miles couldn't wait; in the end he shot his load straight down Jim's throat, clutching hard at his blond hair without a care.
Jim didn't seem to mind the rough treatment either; he just suckled a little longer, then - as Miles' fingers finally fell loosely out of his hair - slid his wicked, fucking mouth off, licking gently across the end of Miles' softening cock like he liked the fucking taste, as Miles watched, the man's grin deepening like he was so fucking proud of himself.
"Where… where'd you learn to do that?" Miles found himself asking in surprise as he tried to lock his knees in place and not collapse to the floor.
Jim's grin widened lustily as he pressed Miles back against the wall and stood up. "Let's just say there's more to me than you think. Now, bed, yeah?"
"I don't think I know how to say no," Miles panted. "You blew my mind as well as my damned cock. I can't even…" He shook his head, staring at Jim with what he was sure must have rivalled Patrick Star's for a dumb expression.
“Come on, then," was all Jim said, practically carrying Miles - his pants still around his ankles - to the bedroom. He tossed Miles on the bed before pulling his footwear and pants right off, then started to unbuckle his own jeans as Miles shifted backwards, his gaze turning apprehensive.
"You… you…" he got out before his tongue stuck. Fuck! Jim pulled his t-shirt off over his head then shoved his pants down his legs. His cock stuck out, thick and hard, and Miles went into panic-mode. "Fuck, no! Jim, I… I… You can't…"
A concerned frown crossed Jim's handsome features as he moved closer to the bed. "Hey, it's okay… we don't need to do anything you don't want."
"But… b-but last n-night," Miles stuttered, very conscious of his own nudity and Jim's huge cock coming closer. "We fucked…"
Jim's concern eased into a laugh as he sat on the bed, his cock still looking fucking enormous. Miles couldn't take his eyes off it. "No, we didn't."
"What?" Miles's eyes flew to meet Jim's at last.
"No, we didn't. You jerked me off, then you seemed a little… well, perhaps you'd drunk too much? I sucked you off, and used a finger to help give you that little extra you seemed to need."
"You stuck your finger up my ass?" Miles felt violated, even though it seemed like his fears were unfounded.
"Relax, you enjoyed it. It got you off." Jim smiled, like that was all that mattered. "I used lube," he added, as if that made it any better.
Miles dropped his eyes back to Jim's dick. It hadn't shrunk any. "I can't…"
Jim didn't seem bothered. He shrugged, a loose smile still on his face. "I'll take care of it myself if you can't. Just let me get comfortable."
He shifted further onto the bed and grabbed a couple of cushions, propped them against the headboard and laid back on them, turning a sultry smile towards Miles, who was half-lying against the bedding beside him.
This only brought Jim's cock closer. Although Miles had known what Jim meant, he hadn't been able to move away - something inside him said he owed Jim more than he'd given so far - and now, watching him wrap his own hand around his dick, a burst of unexpected lust went through him. He watched for a few minutes, transfixed by the sight of this man whom he'd known for years touching himself in such an intimate way.
Jim groaned lowly, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed lazily at Miles. Gulping, Miles shifted nearer, nervously inching his hand closer to Jim's hand.
"Uh… I could…"
"Be my guest," Jim said, lifting his hand away.
"I…" Miles didn't quite know how to approach it, but he gave Jim a quick look, and slid his fingers around the heated flesh, surprised at how easily he was doing this. It felt amazing; the same as his own and yet somehow completely different. And very quickly he was quite obviously doing the right thing; Jim let out another low groan and started shifting his hips into the movements Miles was making on his cock.
"Christ…" Miles's mouth felt dry as he sped up, sure that Jim was close.
And he was; barely three strokes later, Jim's cock spurted over his hand, thick globs of his come landing on his own belly as Miles milked the last of it from him. The best thing was the expression of pure bliss on Jim's face, Miles found himself thinking as he looked at the wide smile and the closed eyes of his partner.
God, he must still be drunk to be enjoying this so much.
Finally, Miles shifted his hand from where it had remained wound around Jim's softening dick, and looked at the come on it like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next.
"We could have a shower." Jim's voice sounded lower than usual; Miles had never heard it quite like that and it took a moment to realise there was no reason why he should have heard Jim speak in post-orgasmic bliss.
“I… um… that's a good idea."
"Come on, then." Jim slid off the bed shakily and beckoned Miles to follow.
"Uh… together?"
"Why not," Jim asked, turning and backing towards the bathroom, grinning lopsidedly. "We just got each other off; what's a back-scrub between friends?" He disappeared into the bathroom.
Miles took another look at his wet hand, shrugged to himself and followed.
Jim was already in the shower by the time Miles stepped into the room, and he opened the door to grab Miles like he was worried Miles would change his mind. "In here."
Miles let himself be manhandled. He didn't expect the kiss when it came, but he didn't stop it. Jim had him up against the cubicle wall, his body pressed into Miles's and his mouth… Miles decided that although all of this was still the weirdest thing ever, somehow it felt more right than any other sexual situation he'd found himself in for a long time.
"Tell me," he managed between kisses, "why I never knew this about you?"
"What 'this'?"
"You… I mean… not gay maybe, but I can't be the only guy you've done this with; you wouldn't be so… so relaxed about it, and shit, where did you learn to suck cock like that?"
Jim smiled lazily, running his fingers through Miles's wet hair. "Can't be telling everyone all my secrets."
"I'm your partner, I should-"
But Jim cut him off with another searing kiss.
"Jesus, Jim."
"Turn around; I'll wash your back."
Miles sensed there was no point asking any more questions; Jim wasn't about to answer them right now. He sighed out loud as Jim moved away, and did as he was bid. Jim scrubbed his back roughly, but it felt good; just what he needed. By the end of the shower, when he'd returned the favour and they were both a lot cleaner, Jim gave him an eyebrow waggle and stepped out, leaving Miles to turn off the water.
He caught the towel Jim tossed him and dried himself roughly, watching Jim do the same, before disappearing back into the bedroom. Miles followed; what else could he do?
Back by the bed, he hesitated. Perhaps he should go home now? What was the normal thing when you'd just indulged in sexual activity with your partner? He didn't have a clue, but Jim obviously had it sussed.
He was already under the sheet, and he flipped it back, shifting over and indicating with his eyes that Miles should get in.
"I should probably…" Miles started, indicating over his shoulder with a thumb
"You ain't going nowhere, Tonto; not after all that booze. Get in here."
"This… I can't just… fuck, Jim, you could have been screwing other guys for years for all I know, but I can't just switch from being your partner to being your fuck-buddy without thinking it through."
"What's to think about now, Miles? It don't mean you can't keep dating women; we don't even have to do it again, but if you're gonna tell me you didn't like it, don't be fooling yourself. Just sleep right now, okay? Tomorrow you can think about it, yeah?"
Miles shook his head in exasperation. Jim was probably right. He got into the bed, but he didn't touch Jim. In truth, he'd have felt better sleeping in his shorts, but considering what they'd just done, it seemed a little too late.
~//~
Flailing awake from a vivid dream about God knows what, Miles sucked in a huge breath, and turned to look in surprise across the empty bed beside him.
The memory of what he and Jim had done the night before came flooding back.
Yeah, it had really happened.
Miles lay back on the pillows again and tried to calm himself. He'd enjoyed it, in all honesty, and Jim was okay about the whole thing; wasn't the least bit disturbed by having sex with someone he worked with on a daily basis. Miles frowned, wondering how often Jim did this with other guys. There were plenty of women he knew about, but he couldn't recall any suggestion that Jim batted for the other team as well.
The door creaking alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. Jim smirked easily from the doorway, where he leaned casually, clad only in low-slung jeans.
"Mornin', sleepy-head. You want coffee?"
"Coffee… yeah, coffee would be good."
"Comin' right up." Jim pushed off the doorjamb and turned to leave.
"Jim?"
"Yeah?" He turned, lifting an eyebrow in query.
"You… I…this…" Miles pushed himself upright and gestured unevenly. "It's not… uh…"
"Hey." Jim padded over to the bed softly and crouched down beside it, laying a warm hand on Miles' arm. "It's okay, Miles. Take your time with this. I ain't pushing you in any direction you don't wanna go."
"Thanks, man," Miles said after a minute, when he could get the words out.
"Sure." Jim patted his arm, then stood up and moved away.
Miles didn't know what he wanted any more. He hadn't seen himself as gay; sure as hell hadn't expected he wanted Jim. But… twice now he'd slept with the guy. Okay, so maybe he'd been flat-out drunk the first time and well on the way the second, but… something inside him had only wanted it again the second he'd caught sight of Jim here this morning.
He closed his eyes and tried not to picture Jim naked again.
Jim wasn't gone long though; within minutes he was back with two chunky mugs filled with hot, black coffee. Miles leaned forward and took one eagerly, scalding himself on the strong brew before Jim could warn him to take it easy.
"I don't know what to say," he finally got out as Jim leaned against the windowsill and sipped carefully from his own mug.
Lifting his eyes to meet Miles', Jim lowered his mug and shook his head. "You don't have to say anything. I know this ain't easy on you. Look, I know you gotta be wondering about me, but what I am or who I've been with before don't make no difference to what we got between us. I'm still Jim Ford; still your partner. Same guy I always was. This… this thing - whatever you wanna call it - between us ain't changing that either, though I know it's probably making you wonder about yourself. Don't let it eat you up, is all I can say. I went through it too, first time I did something like this. But it don't mean you're only gonna want dick from here on in. If you've been like me, and as far as I know, you have, then hey, pussy's still gonna count sometimes. But… and feel free to tell me to take a hike here if that's what you want… whichever way things go, it don't make you any less of a man; any less of a cop."
Miles listened without interrupting; he didn't think he'd ever heard Jim deliver such a long set of words without smirking or adding in something a little sarcastic or vaguely insulting.
"Okay," he managed, and gulped at his coffee again.
"Thing is, Miles, I like what we did, and I think you did too."
Miles blushed; he could feel it creeping up his face. He deliberately looked down into his mug, unable to meet Jim's eyes.
"Okay, here's what I'm suggesting. You go home, give yourself some time to think. I'll see you at the precinct tomorrow and we'll work together like always. Maybe we'll never talk about it and maybe we'll never do anything about it again, but… and this is a big but… I'd like to hope maybe we will. I'm not gonna give you any shit if we don't, but if you decide you're okay about it, maybe you'll let me know. Take your time, though; just… feel it, man."
Jim stood up properly, clutching his mug and quirked his eyebrows questioningly as Miles finally looked in his direction again.
"Yeah; I'll do that. It's a good idea."
"Okay. I gotta be somewhere now. You let yourself out when you're ready and lock the door behind you, yeah?"
Miles nodded, a little confused. Where did Jim need to be on a Sunday? But he couldn't ask; frightened perhaps that he was going to some other guy's place from here. The thought made something in his chest tighten, but he still didn't speak.
Jim peeled a shirt from a hanger on the closet door and slung it over one shoulder, his coffee cup still in his other hand, as he left the room and shut the door. Miles stayed where he was, sipping more slowly at his coffee as he listened to the vague noises of Jim getting his things together out in the other room. When the door slammed, he sighed and swallowed the last of his coffee, before easing himself out of the bed and finding his own clothes.
Within half an hour he was on his way home.
~//~
Monday morning, he was still turning it over in his head. It wasn't normal for him, no matter what they tried to say these days about homosexuality being as normal as anything else. Miles couldn't help it; his mind kept flicking through images of himself lying in bed with Jim, alternating with scenes of the two of them in bars with women, and others still of them at work during certain moments that had never seemed intimate before but suddenly did in light of this new information.
"Fuck!" He scrubbed his hands through his hair and shook himself all over. This wasn't getting him anywhere. He had never so much as looked at another guy that way before and now here he was, unable to think about Jim any other way.
"Get a grip, Straume," he told himself. "You gotta see the guy again in about twenty minutes. Just treat him like you normally do. It'll all blow over." Shit, and if that didn't make him think of Jim sucking his cock again…
Miles grabbed his jacket and keys and left his apartment.
~//~
True to his word, Jim didn't push. He didn't mention a single thing about what had happened over the previous couple of nights, nor did he suggest they get together again, not even for poker. The week went by like any other, with them doing all the usual things they did together - except for the usual drinks after work on Wednesday and the poker night on Friday. Miles didn't feel like he could handle either one and Jim didn't suggest it, nor comment in any way other than his usual laid-back smirk as he bid Miles goodnight and 'seeya tomorrow'.
By the end of the next weekend, Miles was almost out of his head wondering which woman or man Jim may have spent his spare time with. He'd stayed in, getting mildly drunk on beer and watching baseball and old movies on TV; anything not to have to think.
Monday rolled around, but their shift had changed and they weren't due on until 3pm that afternoon. Miles mooched around home like a lost dog, wandering from room to room and wondering why he couldn't get as much enjoyment out of his favourite lazy hobbies of Monday morning's sports news and the giant crossword from the Sunday paper's magazine.
His first sight of Jim made him frown as he walked into the precinct. Jim was balanced on the edge of Karl's desk, laughing at something the young uniform was saying. Miles wasn't about to chase after his errant partner though; he slammed through to the locker room and yanked off his jacket, opening his locker and shoving it inside with force. He was rolling up his sleeves, his back to the door when Jim came in behind him. He tensed, knowing exactly who it was though he hadn't looked, but he didn't say anything.
When he finally turned around, Jim was leaning against his own locker, staring at Miles with focus, that lop-sided smirk firmly in place.
"I ain't fuckin' him," he stated, like he'd known exactly what was going through Miles's head. "I haven't ever gone with anyone here, if that'll stop you wonderin'."
"It’s not like it matters," Miles said, moving past him and back out to his desk.
Jim followed him, leaning down over his desk as Miles found his seat, and giving him a look. "It matters. I can see that like it's alive. Just… keep it together, Miles. After shift, we gotta talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," Miles replied, eyeing Jim briefly as he booted up his computer. "We just work together, Jim. That's enough, right?"
Jim lifted an eyebrow, but he didn't speak. He nodded as he pulled away from the desk and went to his own next to it. After a few moments of strained silence, Jim said, "We got a real lead to follow up on that load of H we heard about last week. You ready to dive into Sleazeville?"
It was as if nothing had happened between them, and that suited Miles just fine.
~//~
Several weeks went by and although Miles couldn't have said things were bad between them, it wasn't the same any more. The ease with which they'd always bantered and teased was gone and they didn't linger after their shift had finished to shoot the breeze any more like they had before. There were still drinks sometimes, but Miles decided keeping away from Jim's was probably wise, so he never suggested poker or anything else like it, nor did Jim invite him over.
They were out on a case and it was late; later than necessary in Miles' book, but Jim insisted this one last visit to a bar he knew of could be useful. Miles had acquiesced, sure the informant was full of shit, but prepared to get it out of the way now rather than tomorrow; anything to get Jim to quit his speculations on where exactly the damned asshole they were after was hiding out.
"This place has a few… interesting characters," Jim warned as he parked the car. "You might wanna…"
His eyes ran over Miles, making a shiver run through him. Shit! Miles thought he was past that. "What kind of interesting characters?" Miles couldn't think what Jim was talking about. "This a regular haunt of yours?"
"Not regular, no, but I've been here a couple of times. Just watch your ass, is all I'm saying." Jim clamped his mouth shut and got out of the car.
Miles followed him suspiciously, wondering why Jim felt the need to warn him; Miles could take care of himself if a bar fight broke out if that's what he was worried about; but Jim already knew that.
Stepping in the front door of the place, Miles looked around carefully. Jim was already heading towards the bar. Miles blinked; was the barmaid what he thought? He scanned the room again, taking in some of the occupants’ outfits. Jesus. He shook his head and rolled his eyes then followed Jim to the bar.
Jim was already deep in conversation with the drag queen behind the bar and she was nodding and flicking her eyes towards a corner booth. Jim straightened up and nodded at Miles, and again in the direction the barmaid had indicated. "We got lucky; Big Red, over there. He's a known associate of our guy, and Lola here says Hanson owes him big bucks. Big Red's not exactly looking kindly at him this week."
"Big Red? Lola? Interesting characters all right," Miles said, quirking his lip awkwardly.
"C'mon," Jim growled, putting a hand under Miles' elbow proprietarily and leading him across the room.
Miles noticed a few men looking their way and he smiled at one angrily.
"Hey!" Jim gripped his elbow tighter and scowled at the nearest guy looking at Miles. "Eyes off."
A warm wash of unexpected delight swept through Miles and he felt his smile grow more genuine. They'd reached Big Red's table by now and he was looking up at them expectantly. Big Red was exactly what his name implied; it was impossible to mistake any of the others at the table for him. The youth on his left was way too pretty to be there out of love, and the two men on his right looked like muscle; albeit attractive, gym-pumped gay muscle.
"This your new boyfriend?" Big Red smirked at Jim. "Haven't seen him here before. Very nice."
Jim didn't answer directly, but he let go of Miles' elbow. "My partner, Miles Straume. Miles, this is Marvin 'Big Red' Welsh. He may just have some information that may lead us to Hanson, if I'm not mistaken."
Big Red leaned over to the boy beside him and whispered something in his ear, though his eyes never left Miles' face. The boy nodded, turning to get a look at Miles, whom he'd ignored up until now.
"Mickey's going to buy you a drink, Miles. Jim and I have words to exchange."
Miles was about to protest, when Jim gave him a stern look; one that he knew well enough how to read: This one won't be saying anything while you're here.
Reluctantly, Miles followed the pretty boy over to the bar and slid onto a stool where he could watch Jim.
"What'll you have?" Mickey was saying from the stool next to him. "I don't blame you; he's hot. I'd do him in a minute. Better than Big Red in the sack too, I'll bet."
"What?" Miles dragged his eyes off Jim at last to try and decipher what Mickey was talking about.
"Jim. I've seen him here before. He is your boyfriend, right? Usually he…" Mickey stopped as the barmaid approached. "A ginger-ale thanks, Lola. And whatever he's having, lucky bastard."
"Lucky… oh, just a light beer. He's not my boyfriend; he's my partner."
"Whatever," Mickey gestured offhandedly as Lola brought the drinks. "You didn't manage to slip some vodka in there, did you?"
Lola just raised an eyebrow at the youth and sighed heavily before walking away.
"You're not twenty-one yet, are you?" Miles asked. "I think she's figured out we're cops, by the way."
Mickey narrowed his eyes. "I figured you were cops; I'm not stupid. I just thought you'd hardly mind what with being Jim's boyfriend - sorry, partner - and all."
"Jim's my work partner." Miles reiterated, glancing back at where Jim and Big Red now appeared deep in conversation, heads bent closely together. Did Big Red have his hand on Jim's thigh?
"Sorry, my mistake." Mickey arched an eyebrow as Miles turned back to him. "Most work partners don't watch their other half quite so jealously, though. Big Red touches everyone; don't let it get to you. He rarely follows through. No stamina, but don't let him know I said that."
Miles stared at him curiously.
Mickey smirked and took a sip of his ginger-ale. "You can't tell me you haven't been wondering? Jim probably wouldn't go there anyway. Red knows what Jim usually likes and it isn't him."
"What does he usually like?" Miles asked before he could stop himself.
Mickey laughed delightedly. "Someone more like you; that's why I thought you were his latest, but… I'm not really wrong, am I? What, he's had a crush on you from afar and you didn't know? Looks to me like the feeling's mutual. Why don't you go for it; I'm sure Jim would love it."
The look on Miles' face probably couldn't have been more stunned by this point.
"There's my cue." Mickey smiled, standing up. "I wouldn't fight it, if I were you. He's probably worth it from what I can see."
Miles tried to find words, but none came.
"Nice meeting you, Miles," Mickey threw over his shoulder as he sauntered back towards Big Red's table. He turned back as Jim passed him, leering suggestively at Jim's ass and grinning at Miles before quelling his expression and continuing back to Big Red's side.
"C'mon, partner." Jim was saying before Miles had managed to recover. "Tomorrow we'll be all over Hanson."
Miles nodded, gulping what he could of the beer and dropping the still half-full bottle on the counter-top behind him, before following Jim out of the bar.
Outside, he stopped and took a deep breath. Jim was already halfway across the street before he realised Miles wasn't beside him.
"What? You forget something?"
"Why didn't you just say it was a gay bar?" Miles asked, striding to catch up with Jim.
Jim scratched his eyebrow and looked down. "Wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with that."
"So… I'm not likely to be comfortable with a gay bar, and the best way to deal with that is have me walk in unknowing? Jesus, Jim, what do you take me for? Look, it's obvious you've been there more than a few times; it didn't take five minutes for me to discover that, or what kind of guy you're usually with. I'm not going to judge you, and it doesn't matter if you like men more than women, okay?"
"Miles…" Jim fiddled with car keys, not looking at him.
"Shit, Jim… this isn't supposed to be a big deal, remember? You said it was my choice." His voice was soft, but he felt hard; brittle; close to breaking point. The new realisation of Jim's feelings was too difficult to deal with, and he sure as hell didn't want to do it out here. His voice hardened "Can we just get in the damned car?"
"Okay, sure, yeah," Jim said, sounding uncertain. He didn't look at Miles in the dim light, and Miles didn't want to think about whether his words had hurt his partner.
In the car they were both silent. Miles looked out the window, purposefully ignoring Jim.
It was only when Jim pulled up outside Miles's apartment and he was half out of the car that Jim spoke. Miles nearly missed it, the words were so quiet, but the tone caught him off-guard. "I didn't mean for you to find out like that."
Miles stopped dead, facing away from the car, one hand on the door and about to shut it. He drew in a deep breath before slowly turning back around. "You'd better come inside."
"What?" Jim looked up, stunned.
"We need to talk and sooner rather than later."
Jim nodded, turning off the key and pushing open the door like he was worried Miles would retract the offer. Miles shut the door on his side and waited while Jim locked the car, then led the way upstairs. Neither man spoke again until Miles shut the door behind them.
"I'm sorry, Jim. I wasn't fair to you. I had no idea."
"I should be the one apologising. I didn't want to pressure you. Look, it was obvious I'd made a mistake, and I…"
"It wasn't a mistake."
"It wasn't?" Jim looked confused now.
"Jim… when that kid in there told me about your other boyfriends… and when Red had his goddamned big mitts all over you… I wanted to strangle him."
"I'd never… shit, not with that sleaze. What do you take me for?" Jim was starting to smile, like he was just starting to get it, but he was afraid to believe it.
"I take you for mine," Miles answered, and then there was nothing left to do but find each other physically.
"Jesus…" Jim managed between kisses. "I thought I'd completely fucked up."
"You did; you fucked up my whole psyche, you asshole," Miles told him, grabbing him and kissing him again. Pressing up against Jim, nothing had ever felt so damned inevitable or anywhere near as good. It had taken far too many weeks for Miles to realise this, and it had taken a pretty-boy's throwaway remarks for him to get it properly, but now he had, Miles wasn't about to waste it.
"Bedroom, now," he decided, before he could back away again. "This time, I want everything."
"You sure about that, Chief?" Jim asked, a look of wonder in his eyes.
"Oh yeah." Miles nodded. "You won't get any more of that poker-face from me, man. This time I got a full house and I'm not bluffing."
Jim just grinned and led the way.
~//~//~
Expedia Travel Coupons
Characters: Jim Sawyer Ford, Miles Straume
Word Count: 7555
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: uneasy attitudes about homosexuality
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of the characters, blah, blah
Beta: The always helpful and marvellous siluria. Thank you, darling!
Author’s Notes: I wrote this one for gottalovev and it was supposed to be a birthday present. Needless to say, it's rather late! Hope you enjoy it anyway, Lou! *hugs*
This fic features Miles/Jim as cops in the sideways 'verse in an AU of my own invention.
Miles wakes up after a night of poker playing with Jim… naked in Jim's bed, and he's not alone.
NB: this fic can also be read here at AO3
Miles blinked awake, his head throbbing. The sunlight streaming in over the bed from the uncurtained window was too bright for him to appreciate where he was for a moment - or who he was with - and he frowned at the pain in his head, trying to recall last night.
It was only after the body next to him shifted and sighed that he realised why the place was recognizable enough but not quite as familiar as his own home.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, tensing up as he took a proper look at the arm slung across his naked stomach. "This cannot be real."
Slowly, he turned his head sideways after a few long moments of staring at the very male arm. Upon confirmation of its owner's identity, he shut his eyes and counted silently to ten. Opening them again, he realised it made absolutely no difference.
He'd really done it this time if he'd drunk so much he'd ended up in bed with Jim. Swallowing guiltily, he tried to remember any part of the previous evening which would indicate how this had happened. They'd gone out for a beer to commiserate over the Red Sox losing the World Series (Miles) and a fiery redhead who'd had the gall to ditch Jim before he got tired of her (Jim). Miles could vaguely remember the beers turning into shots and coming back to Jim's to play poker, but from there it was all a mysterious blur.
Miles shifted experimentally, wincing as the movement made Jim snort and turn over. Miles kept still, heart beating wildly, until he was sure Jim was still asleep. Carefully, he lifted the sheet, hoping like hell this was way more innocent than it looked.
No such luck. He was completely naked and so was Jim. The faint odour of last night's activity was all too apparent, although Miles couldn't remember a thing to suggest they'd done what he didn't want to believe was true. How in hell? He didn't do guys; Jim didn't do guys; neither of them was gay. It just didn't make any sense.
There was only one thing to do to minimise the embarrassment they'd both be feeling if Jim woke up and found him here; he had to leave, and right now.
Miles slid carefully out of the bed, eyes on Jim's slumbering form the whole time. He finally took a breath as he let go of the bed and cast about for his clothes. The pain of his hangover came back in force as he collected his underwear from the chair at the end of Jim's bed. His shorts, and what he assumed were Jim's - flung carelessly at the floor by the chair - were the only items of clothing in the room.
Stepping quietly out the door, Miles glanced back at Jim. He narrowed his eyes, wondering dully for one second if Jim was feigning sleep because he actually knew what had happened and wasn't happy about it either. But he looked completely out of it; his breathing too regular and deep to be faked.
Carefully, Miles shut the door and shimmied into his shorts in the short hallway before stepping into the living area in search of the rest of his clothes.
Fuck! They had to have started out here. Two pairs of familiar jeans and shirts, as well as Jim's favourite leather jacket and the denim one Miles had worn last night were strewn about as if they couldn't get them off fast enough. This was beyond surreal.
He grabbed his own gear and started donning it, searching the room for clues. There was half a glass of what looked like bourbon on the counter between the living area and the kitchen, with a half-smoked cigarette turned to a long line of ash in an ashtray next to it, and a messy pile of playing cards. A bar stool was lying on its side on the floor nearby. Another glass was on the floor by that; the remainder of its contents staining the rug under it.
It had to have just been the two of them; there was no evidence of any further occupants in the room. Miles tugged up his jeans, turning his eyes heavenward as a vague ache in his ass began to make itself known and brought home the reality of exactly what they must have done. Why the fuck did he have to be the one who bent over? He'd never be able to look Jim in the eye, let alone bend over innocently in front of him again if the man had any more clue than Miles about last night's events.
Miles had to believe Jim was as drunk as he'd been; that he'd be as clueless when he woke up. There was no other way he could handle it. Cautiously moving his tongue around his foul-tasting mouth, he hoped like hell it was only alcohol making it taste that way. The image of just what else he might have been doing with it sent him spinning towards the kitchen sink, his stomach heaving. He managed to control it, but it took a few minutes. He was sweating by the time he managed to fumble a glass under the cold water and gulp down half its contents.
The rest he splashed straight into his face and, dumping the glass in the sink next to the empty bourbon bottle there, rubbed into his skin as if he could wash away the past night's sins.
He had to get out of there. Where were his fucking shoes? Miles took a steadying breath before making his way back into the hallway. Thank fucking Christ. His sneakers were neatly tucked to one side of the door. Somehow, drunk as he must have been when they got here, he hadn't completely lost his mind until he and Jim had worked their way through a damned sight more alcohol.
Death from alcohol poisoning wouldn't be a bad thing at this point as far as he was concerned. Miles pulled his shoes on roughly, not even bothering to lace them as he rapidly left the scene of the crime.
~//~
"So, couldn't get away fast enough, eh?" Jim smirked as he sauntered in through the door of the station break room.
Mile gripped his coffee cup tightly and turned to face his partner, studying his handsome face for clues as to how much the man actually remembered about last night's encounter. "With you so drunk you couldn't count your own feet? You bet." He hoped the way his pulse was pounding wasn't obvious as he made his way to a chair and set his cup down on the table, then balanced himself carefully on two legs of the chair and watched Jim pour coffee for himself.
"Must have been one hell of a poker game, Hoss. Can't remember a damned thing. Although…" He paused, stirring in way too much sugar and then turned, parking his ass against the counter and studying Miles curiously.
"What?" Miles knew there was an edge to the word, but he couldn't take it back now. He dropped his eyes to his cup and slammed the legs of the chair back to the floor before taking a careful sip of coffee.
"You sure it was just us? I could swear… there was someone in bed with me when I woke up later, but then I passed out again. Whoever she was, she was gone by the time daylight hit me."
"You mean your libido fooled you into hallucinating that you didn't strike out?" Miles took too large a gulp of hot liquid and almost choked on it, his heart-rate thudding even faster at the deflection.
Jim snorted, chugged from his own cup and gazed at Miles with an eyebrow raised. "I never strike out; not when I'm serious. Unlike you, Jackie Chan; action star of the future. All I gotta do is wink at 'em and they come running for some Ford-love."
Miles laughed out loud at that, hoping his hysteria wasn't coming through.
"What? You don't believe me?" Jim pushed off the counter-edge and shook his head, smirk firmly in place. "Shows how much you know."
Miles snorted and stood up. "We should get going, anyway. Got that junkie to find, remember?"
"Like he's gonna have any decent info for us, but yeah, okay, Hot-shot. Lead the way."
~//~
"So, poker again tonight?" Jim asked as they finished up the paperwork on the arrest they'd just made. The junkie's information was better than they'd hoped.
"You really want the punishment?" Miles asked, closing the file and shoving it in a drawer. "Thought last night was enough?"
Miles's heart was beating faster than it should be again, though it seemed clear from today's conversations that Jim didn't have a clue what had really happened the night before - unless he was trying to figure it out himself and tonight's invitation was part of the investigation.
"C'mon, you gotta give me a chance to win some of it back."
"How do you know I won if you can't remember anything?"
Jim eyed him sideways as they left the building. "No cash in my wallet this morning. No matter how much we drank last night, I doubt we got through the two hundred I took outta my account yesterday."
"All right, but I'm warning you now, I'm stayin' sober."
Jim laughed. "I'm bound to win then."
~//~
Despite what he'd said, Miles found himself drinking more and more as the time passed. He was holding his own with the cards but he wasn't so sure about anything else. Jim was looking decidedly sexy across the table from him, and if he didn't know better, Miles would have said the guy was flirting with him.
"Fuck it," Jim said after Miles won yet another hand, and threw his cards down in mock disgust. "Thought you were gonna give me a shot here. You and your damned poker face." He stood up and headed for the counter where the next unopened bottle of bourbon waited.
"You had your chance, buddy. So, you out for the night, then? I should probably get going."
Jim turned around, glass in hand and smirked, waggling his eyebrows. "You got a date or somethin'? I didn't say I was done."
Miles took another swig from his glass and purposely looked away. Jim was giving him that sexy look he usually reserved for the ladies. Miles wondered if this is what had happened the night before; if his drinking had made Jim look even better than he already did. Shit! He wasn't gay; what on earth was he thinking?
"You still think the tide's gonna turn, huh? Look, I should go before I get as wasted as last night." Miles made to stand up, but his feet got caught in the chair and he ended up on his ass.
Jim laughed, put down his drink and stepped over to give him a hand. "You sure you ain't already there, Hustler?"
The word 'hustler' did funny things to Miles' guts and he simply stared up at Jim from where he lay, swallowing deeply as his partner loomed over him.
"You gonna lie there all night? What? I do somethin'?" Jim looked confused, but sexy as hell with his shirt half-open and his blue jeans stretched tight across his crotch. Hell, he looked way too good tonight.
Jim's smile began to stretch, and he reached down and grabbed Miles' hand, pulling him upwards before Miles was quite ready. As a result, Miles over-balanced and ended up clutching Jim to stop from tipping them both over in the opposite direction. Jim's arms went around Miles and he laughed again, low and dirty. "Well, howdy, pardner."
Miles closed his eyes for a second, feeling the rumble of the words and laughter against his chest. God, it felt good, and Jim smelt amazing. Whatever cologne he was using was like some kind of aphrodisiac.
Shit! Miles blinked his eyes abruptly and pushed away from Jim. "I'm not your date, cowboy."
"You seemed to think you were last night," Jim grinned. "Come on…"
"Fuck you, asshole!" Miles jumped back a couple of feet. "You knew! I was drunk outta my head last night! You took advantage!"
"Hey, hey… easy there, fella. I didn't know you didn't want it! When you peeled out like there was a fire under your ass this morning while I was still half-asleep, I figured I'd read it all wrong. Didn't want to spook you so I kept my mouth shut."
"Well, I'm spooked, okay? I'm fucking spooked." Miles scraped his hands through his hair and stared at Jim with new eyes. "You seduced me! How long… Jesus, Jim; since when were you gay?"
"Keep it together, Miles. I ain't gay; I still like the ladies. I just… shit, you looked so damned hot last night, and you were being so flirty… I just figured what the heck; why not go with it? You sure as hell weren't fighting me off."
"What… what did we do?" Miles felt ill. He wasn't certain he wanted to know the answer, although he was pretty sure he already knew at least one thing they'd definitely done.
Jim's dimples were still on full. "I could show you. Think you'll remember this time?"
"Fuck…" Miles backed up a few more steps, heart thudding.
"Come on… I ain't gonna hurt you." Jim moved closer and suddenly Miles found a hard wall behind him, his sexy partner mere inches away, and most appallingly, his cock had gone hard.
"You liked it last night," Jim whispered right against his ear and then, incredibly, licked a long stripe under it on the sensitive skin of Miles' neck.
Miles shivered and let out a low groan. "Christ… you… you… I don't…"
Jim started sucking where he'd licked and his hand was simultaneously on Miles' crotch, stroking his heated dick through the denim.
"Oh, fuck it." Miles surrendered and pulled Jim's face around until their mouths met. The kiss was long, wet and as hot as any he'd ever shared with a woman. In fact, it felt a damned sight better than many he'd experienced. The hand on his dick wasn't hurting any either, and although this was definitely not what he'd expected tonight - or any night - with Jim, he wasn't fighting it any more.
Jim's fingers worked their way up Miles' shaft through his jeans and squeezed lightly at the head, making him buck, then they found the fly and rapidly unfastened it as Jim's mouth latched onto Miles' neck again. Who knew he was that damned sensitive there?
A hot hand encircled his dick under the waistband of his briefs, and Miles let out a needy sound, rocking into Jim's touch.
"Oh, you're hot when you're this turned on; anyone ever tell you?"
Miles couldn't even answer in words. What seemed to his own ears like a kind of gurgling sound just got worse as Jim dropped to his knees, pulled Miles's pants and underwear down and engulfed his cock in his moist, heated mouth, all in virtually one movement.
"Christ!" Miles hit his head against the wall as Jim began to move. But he couldn't not look at the amazing visual of his goddamned working partner raising the hottest look up at him as the man's mouth continued its incredible journey towards an orgasm for Miles.
And it wasn't long in coming. Miles tried to warn Jim, but the man either didn't understand what 'Fuck, fuck, now, man…' and rapid tugging at his long hair meant, or he just didn't care. Miles couldn't wait; in the end he shot his load straight down Jim's throat, clutching hard at his blond hair without a care.
Jim didn't seem to mind the rough treatment either; he just suckled a little longer, then - as Miles' fingers finally fell loosely out of his hair - slid his wicked, fucking mouth off, licking gently across the end of Miles' softening cock like he liked the fucking taste, as Miles watched, the man's grin deepening like he was so fucking proud of himself.
"Where… where'd you learn to do that?" Miles found himself asking in surprise as he tried to lock his knees in place and not collapse to the floor.
Jim's grin widened lustily as he pressed Miles back against the wall and stood up. "Let's just say there's more to me than you think. Now, bed, yeah?"
"I don't think I know how to say no," Miles panted. "You blew my mind as well as my damned cock. I can't even…" He shook his head, staring at Jim with what he was sure must have rivalled Patrick Star's for a dumb expression.
“Come on, then," was all Jim said, practically carrying Miles - his pants still around his ankles - to the bedroom. He tossed Miles on the bed before pulling his footwear and pants right off, then started to unbuckle his own jeans as Miles shifted backwards, his gaze turning apprehensive.
"You… you…" he got out before his tongue stuck. Fuck! Jim pulled his t-shirt off over his head then shoved his pants down his legs. His cock stuck out, thick and hard, and Miles went into panic-mode. "Fuck, no! Jim, I… I… You can't…"
A concerned frown crossed Jim's handsome features as he moved closer to the bed. "Hey, it's okay… we don't need to do anything you don't want."
"But… b-but last n-night," Miles stuttered, very conscious of his own nudity and Jim's huge cock coming closer. "We fucked…"
Jim's concern eased into a laugh as he sat on the bed, his cock still looking fucking enormous. Miles couldn't take his eyes off it. "No, we didn't."
"What?" Miles's eyes flew to meet Jim's at last.
"No, we didn't. You jerked me off, then you seemed a little… well, perhaps you'd drunk too much? I sucked you off, and used a finger to help give you that little extra you seemed to need."
"You stuck your finger up my ass?" Miles felt violated, even though it seemed like his fears were unfounded.
"Relax, you enjoyed it. It got you off." Jim smiled, like that was all that mattered. "I used lube," he added, as if that made it any better.
Miles dropped his eyes back to Jim's dick. It hadn't shrunk any. "I can't…"
Jim didn't seem bothered. He shrugged, a loose smile still on his face. "I'll take care of it myself if you can't. Just let me get comfortable."
He shifted further onto the bed and grabbed a couple of cushions, propped them against the headboard and laid back on them, turning a sultry smile towards Miles, who was half-lying against the bedding beside him.
This only brought Jim's cock closer. Although Miles had known what Jim meant, he hadn't been able to move away - something inside him said he owed Jim more than he'd given so far - and now, watching him wrap his own hand around his dick, a burst of unexpected lust went through him. He watched for a few minutes, transfixed by the sight of this man whom he'd known for years touching himself in such an intimate way.
Jim groaned lowly, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed lazily at Miles. Gulping, Miles shifted nearer, nervously inching his hand closer to Jim's hand.
"Uh… I could…"
"Be my guest," Jim said, lifting his hand away.
"I…" Miles didn't quite know how to approach it, but he gave Jim a quick look, and slid his fingers around the heated flesh, surprised at how easily he was doing this. It felt amazing; the same as his own and yet somehow completely different. And very quickly he was quite obviously doing the right thing; Jim let out another low groan and started shifting his hips into the movements Miles was making on his cock.
"Christ…" Miles's mouth felt dry as he sped up, sure that Jim was close.
And he was; barely three strokes later, Jim's cock spurted over his hand, thick globs of his come landing on his own belly as Miles milked the last of it from him. The best thing was the expression of pure bliss on Jim's face, Miles found himself thinking as he looked at the wide smile and the closed eyes of his partner.
God, he must still be drunk to be enjoying this so much.
Finally, Miles shifted his hand from where it had remained wound around Jim's softening dick, and looked at the come on it like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next.
"We could have a shower." Jim's voice sounded lower than usual; Miles had never heard it quite like that and it took a moment to realise there was no reason why he should have heard Jim speak in post-orgasmic bliss.
“I… um… that's a good idea."
"Come on, then." Jim slid off the bed shakily and beckoned Miles to follow.
"Uh… together?"
"Why not," Jim asked, turning and backing towards the bathroom, grinning lopsidedly. "We just got each other off; what's a back-scrub between friends?" He disappeared into the bathroom.
Miles took another look at his wet hand, shrugged to himself and followed.
Jim was already in the shower by the time Miles stepped into the room, and he opened the door to grab Miles like he was worried Miles would change his mind. "In here."
Miles let himself be manhandled. He didn't expect the kiss when it came, but he didn't stop it. Jim had him up against the cubicle wall, his body pressed into Miles's and his mouth… Miles decided that although all of this was still the weirdest thing ever, somehow it felt more right than any other sexual situation he'd found himself in for a long time.
"Tell me," he managed between kisses, "why I never knew this about you?"
"What 'this'?"
"You… I mean… not gay maybe, but I can't be the only guy you've done this with; you wouldn't be so… so relaxed about it, and shit, where did you learn to suck cock like that?"
Jim smiled lazily, running his fingers through Miles's wet hair. "Can't be telling everyone all my secrets."
"I'm your partner, I should-"
But Jim cut him off with another searing kiss.
"Jesus, Jim."
"Turn around; I'll wash your back."
Miles sensed there was no point asking any more questions; Jim wasn't about to answer them right now. He sighed out loud as Jim moved away, and did as he was bid. Jim scrubbed his back roughly, but it felt good; just what he needed. By the end of the shower, when he'd returned the favour and they were both a lot cleaner, Jim gave him an eyebrow waggle and stepped out, leaving Miles to turn off the water.
He caught the towel Jim tossed him and dried himself roughly, watching Jim do the same, before disappearing back into the bedroom. Miles followed; what else could he do?
Back by the bed, he hesitated. Perhaps he should go home now? What was the normal thing when you'd just indulged in sexual activity with your partner? He didn't have a clue, but Jim obviously had it sussed.
He was already under the sheet, and he flipped it back, shifting over and indicating with his eyes that Miles should get in.
"I should probably…" Miles started, indicating over his shoulder with a thumb
"You ain't going nowhere, Tonto; not after all that booze. Get in here."
"This… I can't just… fuck, Jim, you could have been screwing other guys for years for all I know, but I can't just switch from being your partner to being your fuck-buddy without thinking it through."
"What's to think about now, Miles? It don't mean you can't keep dating women; we don't even have to do it again, but if you're gonna tell me you didn't like it, don't be fooling yourself. Just sleep right now, okay? Tomorrow you can think about it, yeah?"
Miles shook his head in exasperation. Jim was probably right. He got into the bed, but he didn't touch Jim. In truth, he'd have felt better sleeping in his shorts, but considering what they'd just done, it seemed a little too late.
~//~
Flailing awake from a vivid dream about God knows what, Miles sucked in a huge breath, and turned to look in surprise across the empty bed beside him.
The memory of what he and Jim had done the night before came flooding back.
Yeah, it had really happened.
Miles lay back on the pillows again and tried to calm himself. He'd enjoyed it, in all honesty, and Jim was okay about the whole thing; wasn't the least bit disturbed by having sex with someone he worked with on a daily basis. Miles frowned, wondering how often Jim did this with other guys. There were plenty of women he knew about, but he couldn't recall any suggestion that Jim batted for the other team as well.
The door creaking alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. Jim smirked easily from the doorway, where he leaned casually, clad only in low-slung jeans.
"Mornin', sleepy-head. You want coffee?"
"Coffee… yeah, coffee would be good."
"Comin' right up." Jim pushed off the doorjamb and turned to leave.
"Jim?"
"Yeah?" He turned, lifting an eyebrow in query.
"You… I…this…" Miles pushed himself upright and gestured unevenly. "It's not… uh…"
"Hey." Jim padded over to the bed softly and crouched down beside it, laying a warm hand on Miles' arm. "It's okay, Miles. Take your time with this. I ain't pushing you in any direction you don't wanna go."
"Thanks, man," Miles said after a minute, when he could get the words out.
"Sure." Jim patted his arm, then stood up and moved away.
Miles didn't know what he wanted any more. He hadn't seen himself as gay; sure as hell hadn't expected he wanted Jim. But… twice now he'd slept with the guy. Okay, so maybe he'd been flat-out drunk the first time and well on the way the second, but… something inside him had only wanted it again the second he'd caught sight of Jim here this morning.
He closed his eyes and tried not to picture Jim naked again.
Jim wasn't gone long though; within minutes he was back with two chunky mugs filled with hot, black coffee. Miles leaned forward and took one eagerly, scalding himself on the strong brew before Jim could warn him to take it easy.
"I don't know what to say," he finally got out as Jim leaned against the windowsill and sipped carefully from his own mug.
Lifting his eyes to meet Miles', Jim lowered his mug and shook his head. "You don't have to say anything. I know this ain't easy on you. Look, I know you gotta be wondering about me, but what I am or who I've been with before don't make no difference to what we got between us. I'm still Jim Ford; still your partner. Same guy I always was. This… this thing - whatever you wanna call it - between us ain't changing that either, though I know it's probably making you wonder about yourself. Don't let it eat you up, is all I can say. I went through it too, first time I did something like this. But it don't mean you're only gonna want dick from here on in. If you've been like me, and as far as I know, you have, then hey, pussy's still gonna count sometimes. But… and feel free to tell me to take a hike here if that's what you want… whichever way things go, it don't make you any less of a man; any less of a cop."
Miles listened without interrupting; he didn't think he'd ever heard Jim deliver such a long set of words without smirking or adding in something a little sarcastic or vaguely insulting.
"Okay," he managed, and gulped at his coffee again.
"Thing is, Miles, I like what we did, and I think you did too."
Miles blushed; he could feel it creeping up his face. He deliberately looked down into his mug, unable to meet Jim's eyes.
"Okay, here's what I'm suggesting. You go home, give yourself some time to think. I'll see you at the precinct tomorrow and we'll work together like always. Maybe we'll never talk about it and maybe we'll never do anything about it again, but… and this is a big but… I'd like to hope maybe we will. I'm not gonna give you any shit if we don't, but if you decide you're okay about it, maybe you'll let me know. Take your time, though; just… feel it, man."
Jim stood up properly, clutching his mug and quirked his eyebrows questioningly as Miles finally looked in his direction again.
"Yeah; I'll do that. It's a good idea."
"Okay. I gotta be somewhere now. You let yourself out when you're ready and lock the door behind you, yeah?"
Miles nodded, a little confused. Where did Jim need to be on a Sunday? But he couldn't ask; frightened perhaps that he was going to some other guy's place from here. The thought made something in his chest tighten, but he still didn't speak.
Jim peeled a shirt from a hanger on the closet door and slung it over one shoulder, his coffee cup still in his other hand, as he left the room and shut the door. Miles stayed where he was, sipping more slowly at his coffee as he listened to the vague noises of Jim getting his things together out in the other room. When the door slammed, he sighed and swallowed the last of his coffee, before easing himself out of the bed and finding his own clothes.
Within half an hour he was on his way home.
~//~
Monday morning, he was still turning it over in his head. It wasn't normal for him, no matter what they tried to say these days about homosexuality being as normal as anything else. Miles couldn't help it; his mind kept flicking through images of himself lying in bed with Jim, alternating with scenes of the two of them in bars with women, and others still of them at work during certain moments that had never seemed intimate before but suddenly did in light of this new information.
"Fuck!" He scrubbed his hands through his hair and shook himself all over. This wasn't getting him anywhere. He had never so much as looked at another guy that way before and now here he was, unable to think about Jim any other way.
"Get a grip, Straume," he told himself. "You gotta see the guy again in about twenty minutes. Just treat him like you normally do. It'll all blow over." Shit, and if that didn't make him think of Jim sucking his cock again…
Miles grabbed his jacket and keys and left his apartment.
~//~
True to his word, Jim didn't push. He didn't mention a single thing about what had happened over the previous couple of nights, nor did he suggest they get together again, not even for poker. The week went by like any other, with them doing all the usual things they did together - except for the usual drinks after work on Wednesday and the poker night on Friday. Miles didn't feel like he could handle either one and Jim didn't suggest it, nor comment in any way other than his usual laid-back smirk as he bid Miles goodnight and 'seeya tomorrow'.
By the end of the next weekend, Miles was almost out of his head wondering which woman or man Jim may have spent his spare time with. He'd stayed in, getting mildly drunk on beer and watching baseball and old movies on TV; anything not to have to think.
Monday rolled around, but their shift had changed and they weren't due on until 3pm that afternoon. Miles mooched around home like a lost dog, wandering from room to room and wondering why he couldn't get as much enjoyment out of his favourite lazy hobbies of Monday morning's sports news and the giant crossword from the Sunday paper's magazine.
His first sight of Jim made him frown as he walked into the precinct. Jim was balanced on the edge of Karl's desk, laughing at something the young uniform was saying. Miles wasn't about to chase after his errant partner though; he slammed through to the locker room and yanked off his jacket, opening his locker and shoving it inside with force. He was rolling up his sleeves, his back to the door when Jim came in behind him. He tensed, knowing exactly who it was though he hadn't looked, but he didn't say anything.
When he finally turned around, Jim was leaning against his own locker, staring at Miles with focus, that lop-sided smirk firmly in place.
"I ain't fuckin' him," he stated, like he'd known exactly what was going through Miles's head. "I haven't ever gone with anyone here, if that'll stop you wonderin'."
"It’s not like it matters," Miles said, moving past him and back out to his desk.
Jim followed him, leaning down over his desk as Miles found his seat, and giving him a look. "It matters. I can see that like it's alive. Just… keep it together, Miles. After shift, we gotta talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," Miles replied, eyeing Jim briefly as he booted up his computer. "We just work together, Jim. That's enough, right?"
Jim lifted an eyebrow, but he didn't speak. He nodded as he pulled away from the desk and went to his own next to it. After a few moments of strained silence, Jim said, "We got a real lead to follow up on that load of H we heard about last week. You ready to dive into Sleazeville?"
It was as if nothing had happened between them, and that suited Miles just fine.
~//~
Several weeks went by and although Miles couldn't have said things were bad between them, it wasn't the same any more. The ease with which they'd always bantered and teased was gone and they didn't linger after their shift had finished to shoot the breeze any more like they had before. There were still drinks sometimes, but Miles decided keeping away from Jim's was probably wise, so he never suggested poker or anything else like it, nor did Jim invite him over.
They were out on a case and it was late; later than necessary in Miles' book, but Jim insisted this one last visit to a bar he knew of could be useful. Miles had acquiesced, sure the informant was full of shit, but prepared to get it out of the way now rather than tomorrow; anything to get Jim to quit his speculations on where exactly the damned asshole they were after was hiding out.
"This place has a few… interesting characters," Jim warned as he parked the car. "You might wanna…"
His eyes ran over Miles, making a shiver run through him. Shit! Miles thought he was past that. "What kind of interesting characters?" Miles couldn't think what Jim was talking about. "This a regular haunt of yours?"
"Not regular, no, but I've been here a couple of times. Just watch your ass, is all I'm saying." Jim clamped his mouth shut and got out of the car.
Miles followed him suspiciously, wondering why Jim felt the need to warn him; Miles could take care of himself if a bar fight broke out if that's what he was worried about; but Jim already knew that.
Stepping in the front door of the place, Miles looked around carefully. Jim was already heading towards the bar. Miles blinked; was the barmaid what he thought? He scanned the room again, taking in some of the occupants’ outfits. Jesus. He shook his head and rolled his eyes then followed Jim to the bar.
Jim was already deep in conversation with the drag queen behind the bar and she was nodding and flicking her eyes towards a corner booth. Jim straightened up and nodded at Miles, and again in the direction the barmaid had indicated. "We got lucky; Big Red, over there. He's a known associate of our guy, and Lola here says Hanson owes him big bucks. Big Red's not exactly looking kindly at him this week."
"Big Red? Lola? Interesting characters all right," Miles said, quirking his lip awkwardly.
"C'mon," Jim growled, putting a hand under Miles' elbow proprietarily and leading him across the room.
Miles noticed a few men looking their way and he smiled at one angrily.
"Hey!" Jim gripped his elbow tighter and scowled at the nearest guy looking at Miles. "Eyes off."
A warm wash of unexpected delight swept through Miles and he felt his smile grow more genuine. They'd reached Big Red's table by now and he was looking up at them expectantly. Big Red was exactly what his name implied; it was impossible to mistake any of the others at the table for him. The youth on his left was way too pretty to be there out of love, and the two men on his right looked like muscle; albeit attractive, gym-pumped gay muscle.
"This your new boyfriend?" Big Red smirked at Jim. "Haven't seen him here before. Very nice."
Jim didn't answer directly, but he let go of Miles' elbow. "My partner, Miles Straume. Miles, this is Marvin 'Big Red' Welsh. He may just have some information that may lead us to Hanson, if I'm not mistaken."
Big Red leaned over to the boy beside him and whispered something in his ear, though his eyes never left Miles' face. The boy nodded, turning to get a look at Miles, whom he'd ignored up until now.
"Mickey's going to buy you a drink, Miles. Jim and I have words to exchange."
Miles was about to protest, when Jim gave him a stern look; one that he knew well enough how to read: This one won't be saying anything while you're here.
Reluctantly, Miles followed the pretty boy over to the bar and slid onto a stool where he could watch Jim.
"What'll you have?" Mickey was saying from the stool next to him. "I don't blame you; he's hot. I'd do him in a minute. Better than Big Red in the sack too, I'll bet."
"What?" Miles dragged his eyes off Jim at last to try and decipher what Mickey was talking about.
"Jim. I've seen him here before. He is your boyfriend, right? Usually he…" Mickey stopped as the barmaid approached. "A ginger-ale thanks, Lola. And whatever he's having, lucky bastard."
"Lucky… oh, just a light beer. He's not my boyfriend; he's my partner."
"Whatever," Mickey gestured offhandedly as Lola brought the drinks. "You didn't manage to slip some vodka in there, did you?"
Lola just raised an eyebrow at the youth and sighed heavily before walking away.
"You're not twenty-one yet, are you?" Miles asked. "I think she's figured out we're cops, by the way."
Mickey narrowed his eyes. "I figured you were cops; I'm not stupid. I just thought you'd hardly mind what with being Jim's boyfriend - sorry, partner - and all."
"Jim's my work partner." Miles reiterated, glancing back at where Jim and Big Red now appeared deep in conversation, heads bent closely together. Did Big Red have his hand on Jim's thigh?
"Sorry, my mistake." Mickey arched an eyebrow as Miles turned back to him. "Most work partners don't watch their other half quite so jealously, though. Big Red touches everyone; don't let it get to you. He rarely follows through. No stamina, but don't let him know I said that."
Miles stared at him curiously.
Mickey smirked and took a sip of his ginger-ale. "You can't tell me you haven't been wondering? Jim probably wouldn't go there anyway. Red knows what Jim usually likes and it isn't him."
"What does he usually like?" Miles asked before he could stop himself.
Mickey laughed delightedly. "Someone more like you; that's why I thought you were his latest, but… I'm not really wrong, am I? What, he's had a crush on you from afar and you didn't know? Looks to me like the feeling's mutual. Why don't you go for it; I'm sure Jim would love it."
The look on Miles' face probably couldn't have been more stunned by this point.
"There's my cue." Mickey smiled, standing up. "I wouldn't fight it, if I were you. He's probably worth it from what I can see."
Miles tried to find words, but none came.
"Nice meeting you, Miles," Mickey threw over his shoulder as he sauntered back towards Big Red's table. He turned back as Jim passed him, leering suggestively at Jim's ass and grinning at Miles before quelling his expression and continuing back to Big Red's side.
"C'mon, partner." Jim was saying before Miles had managed to recover. "Tomorrow we'll be all over Hanson."
Miles nodded, gulping what he could of the beer and dropping the still half-full bottle on the counter-top behind him, before following Jim out of the bar.
Outside, he stopped and took a deep breath. Jim was already halfway across the street before he realised Miles wasn't beside him.
"What? You forget something?"
"Why didn't you just say it was a gay bar?" Miles asked, striding to catch up with Jim.
Jim scratched his eyebrow and looked down. "Wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with that."
"So… I'm not likely to be comfortable with a gay bar, and the best way to deal with that is have me walk in unknowing? Jesus, Jim, what do you take me for? Look, it's obvious you've been there more than a few times; it didn't take five minutes for me to discover that, or what kind of guy you're usually with. I'm not going to judge you, and it doesn't matter if you like men more than women, okay?"
"Miles…" Jim fiddled with car keys, not looking at him.
"Shit, Jim… this isn't supposed to be a big deal, remember? You said it was my choice." His voice was soft, but he felt hard; brittle; close to breaking point. The new realisation of Jim's feelings was too difficult to deal with, and he sure as hell didn't want to do it out here. His voice hardened "Can we just get in the damned car?"
"Okay, sure, yeah," Jim said, sounding uncertain. He didn't look at Miles in the dim light, and Miles didn't want to think about whether his words had hurt his partner.
In the car they were both silent. Miles looked out the window, purposefully ignoring Jim.
It was only when Jim pulled up outside Miles's apartment and he was half out of the car that Jim spoke. Miles nearly missed it, the words were so quiet, but the tone caught him off-guard. "I didn't mean for you to find out like that."
Miles stopped dead, facing away from the car, one hand on the door and about to shut it. He drew in a deep breath before slowly turning back around. "You'd better come inside."
"What?" Jim looked up, stunned.
"We need to talk and sooner rather than later."
Jim nodded, turning off the key and pushing open the door like he was worried Miles would retract the offer. Miles shut the door on his side and waited while Jim locked the car, then led the way upstairs. Neither man spoke again until Miles shut the door behind them.
"I'm sorry, Jim. I wasn't fair to you. I had no idea."
"I should be the one apologising. I didn't want to pressure you. Look, it was obvious I'd made a mistake, and I…"
"It wasn't a mistake."
"It wasn't?" Jim looked confused now.
"Jim… when that kid in there told me about your other boyfriends… and when Red had his goddamned big mitts all over you… I wanted to strangle him."
"I'd never… shit, not with that sleaze. What do you take me for?" Jim was starting to smile, like he was just starting to get it, but he was afraid to believe it.
"I take you for mine," Miles answered, and then there was nothing left to do but find each other physically.
"Jesus…" Jim managed between kisses. "I thought I'd completely fucked up."
"You did; you fucked up my whole psyche, you asshole," Miles told him, grabbing him and kissing him again. Pressing up against Jim, nothing had ever felt so damned inevitable or anywhere near as good. It had taken far too many weeks for Miles to realise this, and it had taken a pretty-boy's throwaway remarks for him to get it properly, but now he had, Miles wasn't about to waste it.
"Bedroom, now," he decided, before he could back away again. "This time, I want everything."
"You sure about that, Chief?" Jim asked, a look of wonder in his eyes.
"Oh yeah." Miles nodded. "You won't get any more of that poker-face from me, man. This time I got a full house and I'm not bluffing."
Jim just grinned and led the way.
~//~//~
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