New Fic: Due South/Californication (Lew/Turnbull)
Title: The Bad Boy and His Virtuous Mountie
Fandom: Due South/Californication
Pairing: Lew Ashby/Turnbull
Rating: PG-13 for language
A/N: written for the c6d_universe "Virtues" challenge, this is a sequel to My Favorite Mistake and is decidedly cheerier (and probably a bit weirder). I should note that this is post-COTW for Due South and an AU for Californication.
Lew fidgeted, cursed himself for being such a pussy, and smoothed out the note once more. Not that reading the note again would change anything, or make this any less of a stupid idea if Turnbull booted his ass. But it was going to be a few hours before his plane touched down. A few hours without a cigarette.
Dear Lew,
Although it does pain me to write this letter, as my stay with you has certainly brought me great happiness during my time in Los Angeles, I have decided to move on. I have accepted a transfer to Whitehorse. Take care.
Sincerely,
Renfield
When Lew had woken up to find the note several weeks earlier, he had wanted to ram it down Turnbull’s throat. He had purchased the plane ticket to Whitehorse with just such an idea in mind, only to have to delay his trip due the subsequent evening’s activities inspiring a judge to court-order a month in rehab. The time off had given him some opportunity to reflect, and when he had rejected the results of his calculations several times only to come to the same conclusion no matter how he figured it, he resigned himself to the following reality:
Don’t go to Whitehorse and beg like a little bitch, and he’d be making the worst decision of his life, a second time. Except instead of the world’s most beautiful woman, he’d be letting go of a nutcase who looked good in a uniform and liked to take it up the ass.
Lew returned to his calculations, but only came to the conclusion that sobriety was way over-rated.
He flew to Whitehorse anyway.
*********
Whitehorse wasn’t as much of a hellhole as Lew would have thought. The women were also prettier than he would have imagined, almost suspiciously so. Lew wondered, for approximately the 678th time, what the hell he was thinking. Giving up every single one of his vices (or most of them, anyway), was one thing, but monogamy was asking a hell of a lot. He mused over the thought that maybe Turnbull would agree to a three-way once in a while. He was eager-to-please. And pure and good, and something that Lew hadn’t seen in anyone for a very long time. A sort of innocence, to be sure, but something else. It was the way Turnbull looked at him, with a respect that came from a simple, well, like. Turnbull sincerely liked him, and for no apparent reason that Lew could discern. What was it called? Unconditional. Turnbull’s affection hadn’t been based on anything.
Or, maybe it had, seeing as Turnbull had fucked off with only a badly written note as warning. Unless there had been other things, signs or something, that Lew hadn’t noticed. Not that there was any point in ruminating over it while he was standing outside freezing his balls off. So he opened the door of the RCMP station, and had barely set foot inside before Turnbull was directly in his line of vision, calmly listening to the person on the other end of the phone line, carefully writing down the message, then frowning and furrowing his brow as he erased and then re-wrote, until he caught sight of Lew and nearly dropped the receiver, beginning to stammer to the person on the other end of the line.
Had Lew been paying attention, he would have perhaps tried to flash a cocky grin or something. As it was, he was distracted by what seemed to him to be an unusual number of moderately to very attractive female officers present. When he finally did manage to locate Turnbull staring at him, he managed a wry smile. “Renny,” he said, then shrugged. “I would have made it up earlier, but I was in rehab.”
Turnbull only continued to stare at him, making Lew fidget uncomfortably. “Look, Renny, I think you know why I’m here. I fucked up somehow, I came to apologize or promise or whatever, and I want you to come back to L.A. With me.” Lew added the last two words as if it wouldn’t be apparent.
Turnbull finally hung up the phone receiver, which had seemed to be emitting an increasingly loud dial tone. “Really?” he managed.
“Well, no shit Renny. Why the hell else would I be here?” It wasn’t exactly warm inside the station, but Lew was beginning to feel the heat crawl up the back of his neck. “Look, I’m giving up everything for you here, I’m even willing to give up women.” He heard his own voice becoming frantic, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking. “No more booze, coke, or pussy, Renny. No more tits. For you.”
Turnbull finally got up and walked out from behind his desk to approach Lew. The earnestness in his face silenced Lew in a moment. “Lew, I want nothing more than to return to Los Angeles with you. But is that what you really want? Do you really want me, or just another distraction? I was with you for six months, so this is not a question that is out of line.”
Lew hadn’t expected such directness from Turnbull. He looked away for a moment, allowing his eyes to travel around the station. The various female officers, unless he was imagining things, seemed to be listening in. He turned back to Turnbull. “Look, I was just in rehab. There aren’t a whole lot of distractions there. What there is way too much of is time. And I spent a lot of that time thinking about us. Now here I am.” He stepped back for a moment and held his arms out at his sides, waiting.
Turnbull closed the distance between them and kissed Lew enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around him. Lew could hear the chorus of female sighs in the room, but just shrugged, laced his fingers in his lover’s hair, and kissed him back soundly.
Turnbull grinned as he pulled away. “I’m so proud of you,” he said. He straightened and suddenly got that incredibly earnest look on his face again. “I don’t expect you to give up, ah, relations, with women, Lew.”
Lew blinked. This day was just turning out to be a little too good to be true. “Really?”
Turnbull nodded earnestly, then blushed and stammered slightly, pulling at his collar. “I, ah, haven’t exactly abstained while we’ve been apart.”
Lew furrowed his brow in confusion. “Well, yeah, it’s not like we’ve been together, I don’t expect you to…” Suddenly his eyes widened as the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. He quickly looked around, scanning the room, examining the female officers, and wondering if the sighs he’d heard earlier were really ones of approval over their making up, or of disappointment.
“You fucking slut!” He had turned back to Turnbull, shocked.
Turnbull blinked, then looked offended. “I hardly think that’s appropriate. It verges on hypocritical, actually.”
Lew couldn’t believe it. Turnbull was a fucking god in bed. Innocent, geeky, Turnbull. Of course, he also had a taut body, a talented mouth, and, if Lew’s memory was correct, he was pretty well-endowed. Maybe he’d have to re-think being on the bottom.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go home.”