Drake Finds a Clue (FAKE, JJ/Drake)
Title: Drake Finds a Clue
Fandom: FAKE
Pairing/Character: JJ/Drake
Author: Murasaki-Dono
Recipient: hanbob and Chirucchi
Warnings: m/m, language
Summary: Drake learns that life with JJ is full of surprises
Soundtrack: “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” by Meatloaf and “Is this Love?” by Whitesnake
Symbols: _italics_
Word count: 2800
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. Parts borrowed from earlier FAKE stories of mine.
********
_ They ask me, “Drake, when did you know you were gay?” Seriously? I didn’t. I just knew that JJ Adams needed someone to take care of him. He wanted me for some reason. I was okay with that, I mean, who said it was anything else? It was just a friend helping out a friend, right?_
*******
Drake Parker used the spare key JJ gave him to let himself into the one-room apartment. JJ was still filling out his paperwork at the station. It had been a Special Weapons and Tactics situation. All the red haired detective knew about it was that there was a stand off at a Hebrew school in Brooklyn and JJ had used his sharp shooting skills.
He sighed softly; there were folks at the station that didn’t understand why JJ seemed to be as out of control as a terrier on espresso. It was a mask against the fact that every so often the police department asked him to kill. He had one of the highest scores among the SWAT personnel of New York City. Drake had come to realize quickly that every ‘target hit’ tore a small piece out of JJ’s soul.
He wasn’t here because he was at all romantically interested in his former partner, Drake reasoned. He was just paying JJ back for the way JJ had stuck by him after Drake had been shot by a rogue police officer. It couldn’t be anything else. He fixed some spaghetti and sauce and had it ready by the time JJ opened the door.
“Drake?” he looked tired.
“Heard you had a rough day,” Drake said brightly. He lifted the spaghetti in the inner section of the pot from the water a little too fast. Boiling hot water drained off the pasta all over the stove and straight down Drake’s pant legs. He yelled in pain and dropped it on the floor, slipped in the water and sat square in the puddle.
“Oh, God,” JJ started laughing. “Get up! Get those off before you burn yourself. Hang on, I’ll get a mop.”
JJ finished drying the floor as Drake, in a too-short pair of JJ’s sweats, sulkily scrubbed out the saucepan. In the chaos with the spilled pasta, the sauce had burned.
“It’s all right,” JJ said for the third time since the mess. “I’m not really hungry.” His shoulders drooped.
“I’m trying to make you feel better,” Drake grumbled.
“Well, thanks for trying,” JJ wrung out the mop. “Why don’t you just call for some pizza?” He put the mop away and started searching through his CD collection.
Drake sighed and hung the pan up over the sink. “I don’t want pizza, what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ left the music and sprawled on the couch. Drake sat down next to him and reached for the remote. JJ put his hand on his arm.
“Don’t, not the TV, please,” his large blue eyes had a sheen of tears. “Drake. . .”
“Huh?” Drake blinked. “Hey!” Drake yipped as JJ climbed into his lap. “What are you doing?”
JJ hugged him tight. “Today,” he whispered, starting to open Drake’s shirt , “today, I had to help hand out a lot of grief and sorrow. I just need, “ He reached Drake’s skin and breathed on it. “Need to give someone something good.”
Drake gulped a little. JJ’s breath was warm and his lips traced the scar on Drake’s chest where the bullet had been removed. It felt good. He hadn’t expected it to feel good. JJ was a _guy _ . As his lips traveled in small kisses down his stomach Drake squirmed.
He was getting an erection. “Wait!” His voice sounded ragged.
JJ rested his cheek above Drake’s waistband.
“JJ, I’ve never. . . “
“Never had a blow-job?” JJ’s eyebrows raised.
“Not from a _guy _ !” Drake’s voice hit a higher pitch than he had ever heard out of his mouth since puberty. He felt his face getting sunburn hot.
JJ laughed with a strange, soft note, “I promise to be gentle.” He rose and slid into Drake’s lap, looking as if he expected something. Drake stared at him. JJ’s face clouded and he looked away.
Drake didn’t know what to do.
He quickly took JJ’s face in his hands and kissed him. Drake tugged at JJ’s shirt. JJ’s face lit up and he yanked the shirt off over his head. Drake gulped again as JJ’s bare skin touched against his.
“I didn’t expect --” Drake floundered. JJ’s pulled his head down to kiss him again.
“Shh,” JJ breathed. The kiss deepened. Drake quivered as JJ’s tongue probed into his mouth. Drake pushed it out with his own tongue, feeling out JJ's mouth almost timidly and gave a muffled squawk as JJ sucked on it. They broke the kiss and JJ was working his way down his chest again. This time his tongue was flicking out to circle one of Drake’s nipples teasingly as he worked his hands into the waistband of his sweat pants.
Drake stopped being surprised. He stopped thinking. He was lost in the sensation. He lifted his hips so JJ could drag down the sweat pants and his underwear and he was exposed. His penis sprang erect. It registered and he almost felt shocked but then JJ’s mouth was -- there. There was warmth, there was suction, and it felt so very, very good. His mind went blank.
JJ climbed back up into his arms and kissed the point of Drake’s chin. “I said it would be all right,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” Drake felt drowsy. "Say, JJ?”
“I feel good, Drake,” he whispered. “Really good.”
“Yeah,” Drake whispered back. JJ’s body relaxed against him. “Good.”
Something wet fell on Drake's chest. "JJ?"
He was crying. "He wore a "Passion of the Christ" tee-shirt and wanted to talk to Mel Gibson. There was an old man. An old rabbi. He . . . God, Drake, he jumped at him and shoved him into my shot because I was the only one that could shoot clear of the kids. I killed him in front of the kids, Drake. God." JJ pressed his face against Drake's chest. "And when they searched the body - they found a note. He wanted to die, Drake, he wanted to die and . . . I did what he wanted."
"JJ," Drake grabbed on to him tightly.
"I hate my job."
"God, JJ," was all Drake could say.
"Hold me."
******
_Ok, so I'm a little dense. Dad was in the Army. What I knew about being gay - I didn't._
******
Drake had been in clubs like this one before; flashing lights, loud, pulsing music and gyrating bodies crowding the floor with the occasional couple or group at tables along the sides and a line-up at the bar. This was, however, the first club he'd even been in where the occupants were exclusively male. He felt underdressed in his faded jeans. He ran a finger nervously along the V-neck of his tee-shirt and shoved his hair back.
He worked his way to the bar. The large, dark-skinned bar tender wore a muscle shirt of an astonishing shade of orange and three earrings in each ear. Drake ordered a soft drink and nervously searched the crowd for JJ.
"You're new here," said tall, lean man whose spiky hair was blond with blue streaks.
"Uh, yeah," Drake gulped at his drink.
"I'm Kevin," said a cheerful dark-haired man with almond-shaped eyes coming up on his other side.
"Drake," he answered.
"So, what made you come here, Drake?" asked the blond.
"He's Matt," said Kevin. He pointed to a long-haired man behind Matt. "That's David." He turned and pointed behind him to a man all in black. "He's Tom." He pointed to a man in a red silk shirt next to Tom, "and that's Jeff."
"Hi," Drake looked from one to the other.
"Call me Mose," rumbled the bar tender behind him in an astonishing deep voice.
"So, what brought you here, Drake?" Matt repeated.
"I'm looking for a friend. . ."
"How friendly do you want to be?" David grinned.
"Uh. . ." Drake didn't know what to say.
"Your friend have a name?" purred Tom.
"JJ Adams."
"Oh, _JJ_," said Matt. "Where did you meet _him_?"
"At the station," Drake began.
"Remind me to get arrested," said Jeff.
"Uh. . ."
"Hey, Drake!" JJ slipped through the crowd. "Oh-ho, I see you've met the Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse."
Drake gaped. He'd never seen JJ dressed like this. He was wearing white pants, ankle boots, a collarless lavender shirt that was unbuttoned to his navel, revealing his lean, sweat-shined physique. His normally silver-blond hair was also lavender. He wore a string of white shells around his neck. His face was warm and he was panting.
"Five?" Drake blinked.
"War, Famine, Plague, Pestilence and Bad Fashion," he said dryly, sliding up to the bar. "Orange Dasini, Mose."
"Coming up," Mose pulled a bottle from a cooler.
"Ever wonder who he thinks is which?" asked David.
"Do you really want to know?" Kevin raised an eyebrow, "because I don't."
"Want to come dance?" JJ asked Drake.
"I-I'm not sure," Drake looked at the dance floor. JJ's face fell. The Five Horsemen's postures changed from languid to bristling. "I only know how to foxtrot."
"Foxtrot?" JJ and the Horsemen burst out laughing.
"Oh, God, get him on the floor, I _so_ want to see that," cried Matt.
"Marty will fall right out of the booth," hooted Jeff.
Drake set his empty glass on the bar with a dollar for Mose, who nodded thanks. "Where's the rest room?"
JJ handed over his bottle of water. "Come on, we'll go down the street to the coffeehouse."
"Don't they have. . ."
"Drake," said Kevin, "if you're uncomfortable about the dance floor you do _not_ want to go into the bathroom."
Drake looked so bewildered, Tom grinned wickedly and leaned over and whispered in his ear. The song changed, leaving a brief moment of silence.
"_WHAT_?"
JJ grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the club as the Five Horsemen collapsed in laughter.
After using the men's room in the coffee house, Drake's face still felt scalding hot.
"Why do you go there?" he asked.
"Because my apartment's not big enough for dancing," JJ sipped at another bottle of flavored water. "I love dancing. And for all their teasing, the guys are friends."
"Have you ever -- um. . ."
"No, Drake, I've never "um"ed any of them," he sighed.
"Sorry, I just - oh, hell."
"It's all right," JJ patted his shoulder. "You're learning."
"Learning? Learning what?"
He wished he knew why JJ found that so funny.
*******
_I know what you're thinking. Yeah, I needed to get hit with the clue bus. I honestly didn't see what was right under my nose until we ended up at an awards ceremony._
*******
Drake sighed and tugged at his tie. He hated dress formal, but it was the Annual Police Awards Ceremony. There were honors for heroes and honors for people who just did the right thing and a free dinner for everyone who just did their job. The roast beef had been overdone, served with lumpy gravy, limp green beans and no-texture-at-all mashed potatoes.
There were compensations. JJ's family had come down from Ithaca to see him get an award of Merit. His brother-in-law was a professor of Arthurian Studies. Drake had never considered King Arthur something to be studied, but Geraint Wynn-Rhys was cheerful and fascinating. JJ's sister, Annette, was as trimly made and silver-blond as her brother. Drake was astonished to find out she was his twin.
"Older sister," she chuckled. "By five minutes."
Their daughters, Gwen and Vivienne, were doing their best to be polite, but they were bored to death until Special Victims Unit detectives Munch and Tutuola at the next table started sniping at each other during the civilian awards. It kept them occupied through the awards of Valor, after which the sniping detectives retreated to the bar.
JJ was sitting at the award winners table. Drake kept watching him. JJ was keeping up several conversations and gusts of laughter kept rippling through the hum of conversation. Every so often he would look back at their table and smile.
"JJ says you're both going to have the night off for New Year's Eve," Annette smiled back at JJ before turning to Drake.
"Yes, it was a lucky thing," Drake nodded.
"Did he tell you he was going to have the girls visit during that time?"
"No, no, he didn't," Drake blinked.
"Uncle JJ says he wants us to be in Time Square for New Years," the older girl, Gwen piped up. "It's something everyone should do once."
"Well, I guess that's true."
"Can we call you Uncle Drake?" asked Vivienne bluntly.
Drake's jaw dropped. His brother had been stationed for years in Korea and Drake had never met his nephews in person. He'd never been anyone's "Uncle Drake."
"Why?" he could help but ask.
"Because you're part of the family," was the younger girl's response. She looked at him like he was an idiot.
Annette reached over and took Drake's hand. "You've made my brother very happy."
Drake felt like he'd been hit between the eyes. Just like he'd felt when he realized JJ needed him to help escape the stresses of being a member of New York City SWAT.
JJ was getting an award of merit for his actions in the Brooklyn Hebrew School stand-off. Few people outside of the group at this table realized JJ took no pride in his actions.
"JJ Adams," said the announcer. He came up to the podium and accepted the award to a spatter of applause. He came back to the table and dragged over a chair.
"Don't you have to go back to the winners table?" asked Geraint.
"No," JJ sat down. "They said once we accepted the award, we could sit with our families."
He reached under the table and squeezed Drake's hand. Drake squeezed back.
*******
_ So, we moved in together. . . It seemed like a good idea at the time. . ._
*******
"This is _it_?" exclaimed Matt, wrinkling his nose.
"You hated my sofa bed," JJ retorted.
Drake had to admit the apartment looked well. . . Spartan to be kind.
When Ryo McLean's apartment became available, he offered it to JJ and Drake. The two men agreed. The Five Horsemen were recruited into helping them move. Sophie and Lenore, the owner/chefs of their favorite little café, sent a care package of their famous chicken soup. The soup sat simmering in a borrowed kettle in the kitchen. The rest of the living and dining space was taken up by a set of bookshelves; featuring Drake's grandfather's collection of Louis L'Amour hard covers and JJ's eclectic collection of mostly paperbacks, Drake's futon, JJ's stereo and CDs and both their computers.
They had nothing for the two bedrooms or the single bath.
"This," said Tom, "is just _sad_."
"So next pay check we go shopping," Drake shrugged. He was playing bar tender with a six pack of beer, two "house warming" bottles of wine and a Bargain-Store coffee maker.
"You don't make enough for what you need," argued Matt. "David, you've got that dining set of your mom's in storage, don't you?"
"I was saving that for a bigger apartment!" David protested.
"Well, here's the bigger apartment!"
"What about you?" David folded his arms.
"I can give them my television, now that I'm upgrading to a plasma," Matt shot back.
"You guys don't have to -" Drake began.
"I've already called my sister," JJ cut in. "She's sending a bed room set."
"Well, that's something," said Jeff. "You still need dishes."
"Silverware."
"Lamps! God, this place is dark."
"Shower curtain."
The Five started arguing with each other.
Drake sat down on the floor.
"They're only trying to help," said JJ.
After they all shared a bowl of chicken soup, the Horsemen left, still arguing.
"Good God," Drake groaned.
"They're great guys, just give them a chance," JJ dropped one of his disks into the stereo.
Music filled the room. "Come on," he pulled Drake to his feet. "This living room is big enough for dancing."
"I can only -"
"I know," JJ put Drake's arms around him. "Just sway."
Drake closed his arms around JJ and began to sway with him.
********
_Like I said, I don't even know I if I'm gay or not. I only know I've got a pretty good thing going here.
And I kind of like it._
*******
-see ya!-
Fandom: FAKE
Pairing/Character: JJ/Drake
Author: Murasaki-Dono
Recipient: hanbob and Chirucchi
Warnings: m/m, language
Summary: Drake learns that life with JJ is full of surprises
Soundtrack: “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” by Meatloaf and “Is this Love?” by Whitesnake
Symbols: _italics_
Word count: 2800
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. Parts borrowed from earlier FAKE stories of mine.
********
_ They ask me, “Drake, when did you know you were gay?” Seriously? I didn’t. I just knew that JJ Adams needed someone to take care of him. He wanted me for some reason. I was okay with that, I mean, who said it was anything else? It was just a friend helping out a friend, right?_
*******
Drake Parker used the spare key JJ gave him to let himself into the one-room apartment. JJ was still filling out his paperwork at the station. It had been a Special Weapons and Tactics situation. All the red haired detective knew about it was that there was a stand off at a Hebrew school in Brooklyn and JJ had used his sharp shooting skills.
He sighed softly; there were folks at the station that didn’t understand why JJ seemed to be as out of control as a terrier on espresso. It was a mask against the fact that every so often the police department asked him to kill. He had one of the highest scores among the SWAT personnel of New York City. Drake had come to realize quickly that every ‘target hit’ tore a small piece out of JJ’s soul.
He wasn’t here because he was at all romantically interested in his former partner, Drake reasoned. He was just paying JJ back for the way JJ had stuck by him after Drake had been shot by a rogue police officer. It couldn’t be anything else. He fixed some spaghetti and sauce and had it ready by the time JJ opened the door.
“Drake?” he looked tired.
“Heard you had a rough day,” Drake said brightly. He lifted the spaghetti in the inner section of the pot from the water a little too fast. Boiling hot water drained off the pasta all over the stove and straight down Drake’s pant legs. He yelled in pain and dropped it on the floor, slipped in the water and sat square in the puddle.
“Oh, God,” JJ started laughing. “Get up! Get those off before you burn yourself. Hang on, I’ll get a mop.”
JJ finished drying the floor as Drake, in a too-short pair of JJ’s sweats, sulkily scrubbed out the saucepan. In the chaos with the spilled pasta, the sauce had burned.
“It’s all right,” JJ said for the third time since the mess. “I’m not really hungry.” His shoulders drooped.
“I’m trying to make you feel better,” Drake grumbled.
“Well, thanks for trying,” JJ wrung out the mop. “Why don’t you just call for some pizza?” He put the mop away and started searching through his CD collection.
Drake sighed and hung the pan up over the sink. “I don’t want pizza, what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ left the music and sprawled on the couch. Drake sat down next to him and reached for the remote. JJ put his hand on his arm.
“Don’t, not the TV, please,” his large blue eyes had a sheen of tears. “Drake. . .”
“Huh?” Drake blinked. “Hey!” Drake yipped as JJ climbed into his lap. “What are you doing?”
JJ hugged him tight. “Today,” he whispered, starting to open Drake’s shirt , “today, I had to help hand out a lot of grief and sorrow. I just need, “ He reached Drake’s skin and breathed on it. “Need to give someone something good.”
Drake gulped a little. JJ’s breath was warm and his lips traced the scar on Drake’s chest where the bullet had been removed. It felt good. He hadn’t expected it to feel good. JJ was a _guy _ . As his lips traveled in small kisses down his stomach Drake squirmed.
He was getting an erection. “Wait!” His voice sounded ragged.
JJ rested his cheek above Drake’s waistband.
“JJ, I’ve never. . . “
“Never had a blow-job?” JJ’s eyebrows raised.
“Not from a _guy _ !” Drake’s voice hit a higher pitch than he had ever heard out of his mouth since puberty. He felt his face getting sunburn hot.
JJ laughed with a strange, soft note, “I promise to be gentle.” He rose and slid into Drake’s lap, looking as if he expected something. Drake stared at him. JJ’s face clouded and he looked away.
Drake didn’t know what to do.
He quickly took JJ’s face in his hands and kissed him. Drake tugged at JJ’s shirt. JJ’s face lit up and he yanked the shirt off over his head. Drake gulped again as JJ’s bare skin touched against his.
“I didn’t expect --” Drake floundered. JJ’s pulled his head down to kiss him again.
“Shh,” JJ breathed. The kiss deepened. Drake quivered as JJ’s tongue probed into his mouth. Drake pushed it out with his own tongue, feeling out JJ's mouth almost timidly and gave a muffled squawk as JJ sucked on it. They broke the kiss and JJ was working his way down his chest again. This time his tongue was flicking out to circle one of Drake’s nipples teasingly as he worked his hands into the waistband of his sweat pants.
Drake stopped being surprised. He stopped thinking. He was lost in the sensation. He lifted his hips so JJ could drag down the sweat pants and his underwear and he was exposed. His penis sprang erect. It registered and he almost felt shocked but then JJ’s mouth was -- there. There was warmth, there was suction, and it felt so very, very good. His mind went blank.
JJ climbed back up into his arms and kissed the point of Drake’s chin. “I said it would be all right,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” Drake felt drowsy. "Say, JJ?”
“I feel good, Drake,” he whispered. “Really good.”
“Yeah,” Drake whispered back. JJ’s body relaxed against him. “Good.”
Something wet fell on Drake's chest. "JJ?"
He was crying. "He wore a "Passion of the Christ" tee-shirt and wanted to talk to Mel Gibson. There was an old man. An old rabbi. He . . . God, Drake, he jumped at him and shoved him into my shot because I was the only one that could shoot clear of the kids. I killed him in front of the kids, Drake. God." JJ pressed his face against Drake's chest. "And when they searched the body - they found a note. He wanted to die, Drake, he wanted to die and . . . I did what he wanted."
"JJ," Drake grabbed on to him tightly.
"I hate my job."
"God, JJ," was all Drake could say.
"Hold me."
******
_Ok, so I'm a little dense. Dad was in the Army. What I knew about being gay - I didn't._
******
Drake had been in clubs like this one before; flashing lights, loud, pulsing music and gyrating bodies crowding the floor with the occasional couple or group at tables along the sides and a line-up at the bar. This was, however, the first club he'd even been in where the occupants were exclusively male. He felt underdressed in his faded jeans. He ran a finger nervously along the V-neck of his tee-shirt and shoved his hair back.
He worked his way to the bar. The large, dark-skinned bar tender wore a muscle shirt of an astonishing shade of orange and three earrings in each ear. Drake ordered a soft drink and nervously searched the crowd for JJ.
"You're new here," said tall, lean man whose spiky hair was blond with blue streaks.
"Uh, yeah," Drake gulped at his drink.
"I'm Kevin," said a cheerful dark-haired man with almond-shaped eyes coming up on his other side.
"Drake," he answered.
"So, what made you come here, Drake?" asked the blond.
"He's Matt," said Kevin. He pointed to a long-haired man behind Matt. "That's David." He turned and pointed behind him to a man all in black. "He's Tom." He pointed to a man in a red silk shirt next to Tom, "and that's Jeff."
"Hi," Drake looked from one to the other.
"Call me Mose," rumbled the bar tender behind him in an astonishing deep voice.
"So, what brought you here, Drake?" Matt repeated.
"I'm looking for a friend. . ."
"How friendly do you want to be?" David grinned.
"Uh. . ." Drake didn't know what to say.
"Your friend have a name?" purred Tom.
"JJ Adams."
"Oh, _JJ_," said Matt. "Where did you meet _him_?"
"At the station," Drake began.
"Remind me to get arrested," said Jeff.
"Uh. . ."
"Hey, Drake!" JJ slipped through the crowd. "Oh-ho, I see you've met the Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse."
Drake gaped. He'd never seen JJ dressed like this. He was wearing white pants, ankle boots, a collarless lavender shirt that was unbuttoned to his navel, revealing his lean, sweat-shined physique. His normally silver-blond hair was also lavender. He wore a string of white shells around his neck. His face was warm and he was panting.
"Five?" Drake blinked.
"War, Famine, Plague, Pestilence and Bad Fashion," he said dryly, sliding up to the bar. "Orange Dasini, Mose."
"Coming up," Mose pulled a bottle from a cooler.
"Ever wonder who he thinks is which?" asked David.
"Do you really want to know?" Kevin raised an eyebrow, "because I don't."
"Want to come dance?" JJ asked Drake.
"I-I'm not sure," Drake looked at the dance floor. JJ's face fell. The Five Horsemen's postures changed from languid to bristling. "I only know how to foxtrot."
"Foxtrot?" JJ and the Horsemen burst out laughing.
"Oh, God, get him on the floor, I _so_ want to see that," cried Matt.
"Marty will fall right out of the booth," hooted Jeff.
Drake set his empty glass on the bar with a dollar for Mose, who nodded thanks. "Where's the rest room?"
JJ handed over his bottle of water. "Come on, we'll go down the street to the coffeehouse."
"Don't they have. . ."
"Drake," said Kevin, "if you're uncomfortable about the dance floor you do _not_ want to go into the bathroom."
Drake looked so bewildered, Tom grinned wickedly and leaned over and whispered in his ear. The song changed, leaving a brief moment of silence.
"_WHAT_?"
JJ grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the club as the Five Horsemen collapsed in laughter.
After using the men's room in the coffee house, Drake's face still felt scalding hot.
"Why do you go there?" he asked.
"Because my apartment's not big enough for dancing," JJ sipped at another bottle of flavored water. "I love dancing. And for all their teasing, the guys are friends."
"Have you ever -- um. . ."
"No, Drake, I've never "um"ed any of them," he sighed.
"Sorry, I just - oh, hell."
"It's all right," JJ patted his shoulder. "You're learning."
"Learning? Learning what?"
He wished he knew why JJ found that so funny.
*******
_I know what you're thinking. Yeah, I needed to get hit with the clue bus. I honestly didn't see what was right under my nose until we ended up at an awards ceremony._
*******
Drake sighed and tugged at his tie. He hated dress formal, but it was the Annual Police Awards Ceremony. There were honors for heroes and honors for people who just did the right thing and a free dinner for everyone who just did their job. The roast beef had been overdone, served with lumpy gravy, limp green beans and no-texture-at-all mashed potatoes.
There were compensations. JJ's family had come down from Ithaca to see him get an award of Merit. His brother-in-law was a professor of Arthurian Studies. Drake had never considered King Arthur something to be studied, but Geraint Wynn-Rhys was cheerful and fascinating. JJ's sister, Annette, was as trimly made and silver-blond as her brother. Drake was astonished to find out she was his twin.
"Older sister," she chuckled. "By five minutes."
Their daughters, Gwen and Vivienne, were doing their best to be polite, but they were bored to death until Special Victims Unit detectives Munch and Tutuola at the next table started sniping at each other during the civilian awards. It kept them occupied through the awards of Valor, after which the sniping detectives retreated to the bar.
JJ was sitting at the award winners table. Drake kept watching him. JJ was keeping up several conversations and gusts of laughter kept rippling through the hum of conversation. Every so often he would look back at their table and smile.
"JJ says you're both going to have the night off for New Year's Eve," Annette smiled back at JJ before turning to Drake.
"Yes, it was a lucky thing," Drake nodded.
"Did he tell you he was going to have the girls visit during that time?"
"No, no, he didn't," Drake blinked.
"Uncle JJ says he wants us to be in Time Square for New Years," the older girl, Gwen piped up. "It's something everyone should do once."
"Well, I guess that's true."
"Can we call you Uncle Drake?" asked Vivienne bluntly.
Drake's jaw dropped. His brother had been stationed for years in Korea and Drake had never met his nephews in person. He'd never been anyone's "Uncle Drake."
"Why?" he could help but ask.
"Because you're part of the family," was the younger girl's response. She looked at him like he was an idiot.
Annette reached over and took Drake's hand. "You've made my brother very happy."
Drake felt like he'd been hit between the eyes. Just like he'd felt when he realized JJ needed him to help escape the stresses of being a member of New York City SWAT.
JJ was getting an award of merit for his actions in the Brooklyn Hebrew School stand-off. Few people outside of the group at this table realized JJ took no pride in his actions.
"JJ Adams," said the announcer. He came up to the podium and accepted the award to a spatter of applause. He came back to the table and dragged over a chair.
"Don't you have to go back to the winners table?" asked Geraint.
"No," JJ sat down. "They said once we accepted the award, we could sit with our families."
He reached under the table and squeezed Drake's hand. Drake squeezed back.
*******
_ So, we moved in together. . . It seemed like a good idea at the time. . ._
*******
"This is _it_?" exclaimed Matt, wrinkling his nose.
"You hated my sofa bed," JJ retorted.
Drake had to admit the apartment looked well. . . Spartan to be kind.
When Ryo McLean's apartment became available, he offered it to JJ and Drake. The two men agreed. The Five Horsemen were recruited into helping them move. Sophie and Lenore, the owner/chefs of their favorite little café, sent a care package of their famous chicken soup. The soup sat simmering in a borrowed kettle in the kitchen. The rest of the living and dining space was taken up by a set of bookshelves; featuring Drake's grandfather's collection of Louis L'Amour hard covers and JJ's eclectic collection of mostly paperbacks, Drake's futon, JJ's stereo and CDs and both their computers.
They had nothing for the two bedrooms or the single bath.
"This," said Tom, "is just _sad_."
"So next pay check we go shopping," Drake shrugged. He was playing bar tender with a six pack of beer, two "house warming" bottles of wine and a Bargain-Store coffee maker.
"You don't make enough for what you need," argued Matt. "David, you've got that dining set of your mom's in storage, don't you?"
"I was saving that for a bigger apartment!" David protested.
"Well, here's the bigger apartment!"
"What about you?" David folded his arms.
"I can give them my television, now that I'm upgrading to a plasma," Matt shot back.
"You guys don't have to -" Drake began.
"I've already called my sister," JJ cut in. "She's sending a bed room set."
"Well, that's something," said Jeff. "You still need dishes."
"Silverware."
"Lamps! God, this place is dark."
"Shower curtain."
The Five started arguing with each other.
Drake sat down on the floor.
"They're only trying to help," said JJ.
After they all shared a bowl of chicken soup, the Horsemen left, still arguing.
"Good God," Drake groaned.
"They're great guys, just give them a chance," JJ dropped one of his disks into the stereo.
Music filled the room. "Come on," he pulled Drake to his feet. "This living room is big enough for dancing."
"I can only -"
"I know," JJ put Drake's arms around him. "Just sway."
Drake closed his arms around JJ and began to sway with him.
********
_Like I said, I don't even know I if I'm gay or not. I only know I've got a pretty good thing going here.
And I kind of like it._
*******
-see ya!-