Vive! (FAKE -- JJ/Berkely)
Title: Vive!
Fandom: FAKE
Pairing/Character: JJ/Berkely
Author: Murasaki-Dono
Recipient: Kirikiri
Warnings: more angst then I intended
Summary: JJ is no fool as to where this relationship is going
Soundtrack: Summerfling - k.d.lang
Symbols: _italics_
Special thanks to Sorchafyre for her inspiration
Notes: While I have all respect for Sanami Matoh and her series; she even admits she doesn’t know much about New York City and New York City police requirements. Sharpshooters are members of the NYC SWAT.
******
Vive! was not considered a private club per say, it was simply a discrete one. Only a very select clientele came there for an exquisite meal, quiet conversation and “particular” companionship. Berkely Rose, current Police Commissioner of New York City, couldn’t help but think how fortunate it was that the owner of Vive! the enigmatic Madam Eugene insisted on such discretion - - heaven knows what the average public would make the millionaire industrialist playboy, whose corporations seemed to have a finger in every pie in Gotham, having dinner with a well-known reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper or for any of the other dozen or so couples seated in the opulent main dining room with its panels that were designed to look like the amber paneling of the Russian Tsars. A pianist wove romantic concertos on the massive grand piano in the corner. One of his patrons, a noted Broadway singer, leaned on the instrument, every so often improvising a vocal accompaniment.
His own reason for absolute discretion was waiting by the fabulous mahogany bar. Jeremy “Jemmy” Jay Adams - the top sharpshooter of New York City Special Weapons and Tactics, was just receiving his drink from one of the handsome bartenders. It appeared to be something tropical by its color. Whatever JJ said to the cinnamon-skinned young man provoked a flash of white teeth. JJ’s hair was pale blond. His less-than-average height, lean, whipcord frame and wide blue eyes made him look younger than he was. He wore a tasteful grey suit with a blue tie that accented his looks.
Berkely couldn’t stop a little sigh. This was going to be harder than he thought. Just the sight of JJ against the bar brought back reminders of their surprise meeting down in the Caribbean; he had jetted down to find relief from the winter chill and the grind of politics and discovered JJ had escaped to the same resort.
It had been at first an uncomfortable, then a delightful surprise. Berkely couldn’t help but think of the beach and the intoxicating moon and the steel band music at the “mixer” that first night.
Berkely shoved his glasses up on his nose. “Vodka and soda with line,” he ordered crisply. He turned to JJ, “have you been waiting long?”
“Not long,” JJ smiled. He slipped a bill to the bar tender, who dropped him a wink.
“We have your table available, sir.” one of the hostesses came up, her tuxedo pants and starched shirt concealing a barely feminine figure.
“Are you ready?” Berkely asked. JJ slid from the bar stool, nodding. Berkely couldn’t help but put a possessive hand on his back as they were led to a small niche behind a large palm.
The golden light from the paneling and the palm recalled again the warm tropical weekend. JJ had danced laughing in the sudden tropical rain in a white linen shirt and pants, the cloth becoming transparent on his body. Berkely felt his cheeks growing warm and a familiar tightening in his groin at the memory.
“Long day?” asked JJ as he settled into the white and gold dining chair.
“Very,” Berkely sighed. “How have you been?”
“As well as could be expected,” he said enigmatically.
The waitress arrived and they placed their orders. Berkely chose steak, medium rare. JJ picked grouper with pineapple and mango chutney. The steward brought them each a glass of an appropriate wine selection. They sat for a moment, their eyes not quite meeting across the table.
Damn him. His choice of entrée evoked the island again. Berkely adjusted his glasses again. He had never felt so free of responsibilities as he had on that vacation. He had gone and danced in the rain and they had gone back to his rented cabana. There had been the taste of pineapple and rum in the kiss they shared on the porch. . .
They had met only briefly since then, minor occasions, always under the scrutiny of others. There were plenty of candidates for Police Commissioner who resented Berkely’s ambition and abilities. He had to be careful, so very careful, which is why he had to have this meeting he was already beginning to hate.
“We had to take down another drug house,” JJ turned his drink on the table. “There were kids - the one was just a baby. I hate it when kids are involved.” Berkely reached over and placed his hand over JJ’s. He only dealt with politicians; JJ dealt with heartbreak. Special Weapons and Tactics were considered the best of the best, to have to deal with the worst of the worst. “But, it’s my job,” he sighed.
Their entrees arrived. JJ forked a portion of fish and sauce. Berkely watched the drop of juice fall to land on JJ’s lapel. He remembered a section of orange from the complimentary fruit basket and a falling drop that landed on bare skin and he had been so tempted to lick it off and JJ had laughed at him and dared him to do so . . . JJ’s small nipple had sprung erect at his tongue lap.
He had to wipe his glasses. “I’m sorry, this is hard.”
“Break-ups usually are,” said JJ.
Berkely looked at him, startled. “You . . . know?”
“You don’t become a sharpshooter of SWAT by being stupid,” JJ’s mouth went grim. “I know I get silly at the precinct - God knows, I’m entitled to be a little crazy with all the shit I have to deal with, but I’m not as dumb as some people think I am.”
“I’ve never thought you were,” Berkely shook his head. “It’s just. . . I can’t stop what I’ve started.”
“Oh, of course,” said JJ. “Everyone knows you want to be Commissioner - then Mayor, then Governor - maybe more.”
“You know what I can do to help people,” Berkely protested, suddenly feeling defensive and just a little helpless in the face of the sharpshooter’s almost unnatural calm. This was JJ’s “SWAT face,” the face he wore to organize himself and the other snipers into position and then follow through on the orders to kill.
“No argument,” JJ nodded. “We never touched on what really drives you, but that’s okay. It was just a weekend - a summer fling. God knows I wanted it.”
Berkely had to wipe his glasses again. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” JJ reached across. “It was fun. It was exciting. It couldn’t last.” He took a swallow of his drink, put it down and reached for his water glass. “I didn’t plan it. I - You knew that I had to kill three people the week before. God, you have no idea what that took out of me. I needed to get away. Who suggested that resort to you?”
“Diana, actually,” Berkely put his glasses back on.
“I wonder if she talked to the shrink at One Plaza? Anyway - I saw you checking in and I knew the mixer was that evening . . .” He shook his head. “I so_ needed_ that, can you understand?”
“So did I,” Berkely whispered.
He had needed that total abandon to roll on the king sized bed exploring and feeling without thought or care. He had _needed_ that delicious moment when JJ ‘s legs were around his waist and they were teetering on the edge of climax.
“But,” JJ continued. “I can’t be part of your life anymore than you can be part of mine. I need to distance myself from a lot of police work and politics because I have to get away from what I have to do. I can’t be part of the news of the day. I _can’t_. Besides, New York might tolerate a gay Police Commissioner, might even elect a gay mayor, but there is no way in hell the Upstate Yahoos will elect a gay Governor. It won’t happen.”
“How can you be so damn cold about it!” Berkely slammed his fist on the table, making the silverware jump and the plates rattle.
“Cold? What do you want? You want me to start crying?” JJ’s voice shook. “You want me to scream something stupid and dramatic about never letting you go? Jesus, Berk, I deserve better!”
“Yes, yes, you do,” Berkely flattened his hand on the table. “You do.” He turned and stood. “You also deserve this.” He bent over and kissed him.
JJ’s arms were around his neck and he half-fell back into his chair, pulling the smaller man with him. It was a kiss that was fierce and probing. He didn’t want it to break, but it had to break, leaving them gasping.
JJ paid for half the bill so the expense on Rose’s account would not be questioned. They left by separate entrances. Berkely sat in his car for a long moment.
He would return to his apartment. He would fix himself a stronger vodka and soda than the restaurant served. He would turn on his satellite radio station to catch the end of a song done by a woman whose voice angels would envy:
“...sweet, sweet burn
of sun and summer wind
and you my friend
my new fun thing
my summerfling
laugh...oh how we would laugh
at anything
and so pretend
a never ending summer thing. . .”
Only then did he begin to cry.
_fin_
Fandom: FAKE
Pairing/Character: JJ/Berkely
Author: Murasaki-Dono
Recipient: Kirikiri
Warnings: more angst then I intended
Summary: JJ is no fool as to where this relationship is going
Soundtrack: Summerfling - k.d.lang
Symbols: _italics_
Special thanks to Sorchafyre for her inspiration
Notes: While I have all respect for Sanami Matoh and her series; she even admits she doesn’t know much about New York City and New York City police requirements. Sharpshooters are members of the NYC SWAT.
******
Vive! was not considered a private club per say, it was simply a discrete one. Only a very select clientele came there for an exquisite meal, quiet conversation and “particular” companionship. Berkely Rose, current Police Commissioner of New York City, couldn’t help but think how fortunate it was that the owner of Vive! the enigmatic Madam Eugene insisted on such discretion - - heaven knows what the average public would make the millionaire industrialist playboy, whose corporations seemed to have a finger in every pie in Gotham, having dinner with a well-known reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper or for any of the other dozen or so couples seated in the opulent main dining room with its panels that were designed to look like the amber paneling of the Russian Tsars. A pianist wove romantic concertos on the massive grand piano in the corner. One of his patrons, a noted Broadway singer, leaned on the instrument, every so often improvising a vocal accompaniment.
His own reason for absolute discretion was waiting by the fabulous mahogany bar. Jeremy “Jemmy” Jay Adams - the top sharpshooter of New York City Special Weapons and Tactics, was just receiving his drink from one of the handsome bartenders. It appeared to be something tropical by its color. Whatever JJ said to the cinnamon-skinned young man provoked a flash of white teeth. JJ’s hair was pale blond. His less-than-average height, lean, whipcord frame and wide blue eyes made him look younger than he was. He wore a tasteful grey suit with a blue tie that accented his looks.
Berkely couldn’t stop a little sigh. This was going to be harder than he thought. Just the sight of JJ against the bar brought back reminders of their surprise meeting down in the Caribbean; he had jetted down to find relief from the winter chill and the grind of politics and discovered JJ had escaped to the same resort.
It had been at first an uncomfortable, then a delightful surprise. Berkely couldn’t help but think of the beach and the intoxicating moon and the steel band music at the “mixer” that first night.
Berkely shoved his glasses up on his nose. “Vodka and soda with line,” he ordered crisply. He turned to JJ, “have you been waiting long?”
“Not long,” JJ smiled. He slipped a bill to the bar tender, who dropped him a wink.
“We have your table available, sir.” one of the hostesses came up, her tuxedo pants and starched shirt concealing a barely feminine figure.
“Are you ready?” Berkely asked. JJ slid from the bar stool, nodding. Berkely couldn’t help but put a possessive hand on his back as they were led to a small niche behind a large palm.
The golden light from the paneling and the palm recalled again the warm tropical weekend. JJ had danced laughing in the sudden tropical rain in a white linen shirt and pants, the cloth becoming transparent on his body. Berkely felt his cheeks growing warm and a familiar tightening in his groin at the memory.
“Long day?” asked JJ as he settled into the white and gold dining chair.
“Very,” Berkely sighed. “How have you been?”
“As well as could be expected,” he said enigmatically.
The waitress arrived and they placed their orders. Berkely chose steak, medium rare. JJ picked grouper with pineapple and mango chutney. The steward brought them each a glass of an appropriate wine selection. They sat for a moment, their eyes not quite meeting across the table.
Damn him. His choice of entrée evoked the island again. Berkely adjusted his glasses again. He had never felt so free of responsibilities as he had on that vacation. He had gone and danced in the rain and they had gone back to his rented cabana. There had been the taste of pineapple and rum in the kiss they shared on the porch. . .
They had met only briefly since then, minor occasions, always under the scrutiny of others. There were plenty of candidates for Police Commissioner who resented Berkely’s ambition and abilities. He had to be careful, so very careful, which is why he had to have this meeting he was already beginning to hate.
“We had to take down another drug house,” JJ turned his drink on the table. “There were kids - the one was just a baby. I hate it when kids are involved.” Berkely reached over and placed his hand over JJ’s. He only dealt with politicians; JJ dealt with heartbreak. Special Weapons and Tactics were considered the best of the best, to have to deal with the worst of the worst. “But, it’s my job,” he sighed.
Their entrees arrived. JJ forked a portion of fish and sauce. Berkely watched the drop of juice fall to land on JJ’s lapel. He remembered a section of orange from the complimentary fruit basket and a falling drop that landed on bare skin and he had been so tempted to lick it off and JJ had laughed at him and dared him to do so . . . JJ’s small nipple had sprung erect at his tongue lap.
He had to wipe his glasses. “I’m sorry, this is hard.”
“Break-ups usually are,” said JJ.
Berkely looked at him, startled. “You . . . know?”
“You don’t become a sharpshooter of SWAT by being stupid,” JJ’s mouth went grim. “I know I get silly at the precinct - God knows, I’m entitled to be a little crazy with all the shit I have to deal with, but I’m not as dumb as some people think I am.”
“I’ve never thought you were,” Berkely shook his head. “It’s just. . . I can’t stop what I’ve started.”
“Oh, of course,” said JJ. “Everyone knows you want to be Commissioner - then Mayor, then Governor - maybe more.”
“You know what I can do to help people,” Berkely protested, suddenly feeling defensive and just a little helpless in the face of the sharpshooter’s almost unnatural calm. This was JJ’s “SWAT face,” the face he wore to organize himself and the other snipers into position and then follow through on the orders to kill.
“No argument,” JJ nodded. “We never touched on what really drives you, but that’s okay. It was just a weekend - a summer fling. God knows I wanted it.”
Berkely had to wipe his glasses again. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” JJ reached across. “It was fun. It was exciting. It couldn’t last.” He took a swallow of his drink, put it down and reached for his water glass. “I didn’t plan it. I - You knew that I had to kill three people the week before. God, you have no idea what that took out of me. I needed to get away. Who suggested that resort to you?”
“Diana, actually,” Berkely put his glasses back on.
“I wonder if she talked to the shrink at One Plaza? Anyway - I saw you checking in and I knew the mixer was that evening . . .” He shook his head. “I so_ needed_ that, can you understand?”
“So did I,” Berkely whispered.
He had needed that total abandon to roll on the king sized bed exploring and feeling without thought or care. He had _needed_ that delicious moment when JJ ‘s legs were around his waist and they were teetering on the edge of climax.
“But,” JJ continued. “I can’t be part of your life anymore than you can be part of mine. I need to distance myself from a lot of police work and politics because I have to get away from what I have to do. I can’t be part of the news of the day. I _can’t_. Besides, New York might tolerate a gay Police Commissioner, might even elect a gay mayor, but there is no way in hell the Upstate Yahoos will elect a gay Governor. It won’t happen.”
“How can you be so damn cold about it!” Berkely slammed his fist on the table, making the silverware jump and the plates rattle.
“Cold? What do you want? You want me to start crying?” JJ’s voice shook. “You want me to scream something stupid and dramatic about never letting you go? Jesus, Berk, I deserve better!”
“Yes, yes, you do,” Berkely flattened his hand on the table. “You do.” He turned and stood. “You also deserve this.” He bent over and kissed him.
JJ’s arms were around his neck and he half-fell back into his chair, pulling the smaller man with him. It was a kiss that was fierce and probing. He didn’t want it to break, but it had to break, leaving them gasping.
JJ paid for half the bill so the expense on Rose’s account would not be questioned. They left by separate entrances. Berkely sat in his car for a long moment.
He would return to his apartment. He would fix himself a stronger vodka and soda than the restaurant served. He would turn on his satellite radio station to catch the end of a song done by a woman whose voice angels would envy:
“...sweet, sweet burn
of sun and summer wind
and you my friend
my new fun thing
my summerfling
laugh...oh how we would laugh
at anything
and so pretend
a never ending summer thing. . .”
Only then did he begin to cry.
_fin_