Something was weird tonight. It had taken Vin awhile to notice what it
was, because really, it was subtle. Nothing to it. It was just that,
after all the times the team had gotten together at the Saloon,
everybody had their little habits. Buck would stay at the table for
two beers, surreptitiously scoping out the bar for actions, then slip
off to "get another round" and then drop back by on occasion to report
on his progress. Ezra would sip single malt out of a high ball glass,
and every little bit, reach out and turn his water glass--no
ice--clockwise, about half a circle. Josiah and Nathan would join in
whatever conversation happened to get thrown around, until Josiah got
philosophical or Nathan got medical, then they'd put their heads
together for a little profiler-psychology side talk. Chris would park
himself and wouldn't get up for the entire evening, content to work on
beer or boilermakers, depending on the stresses of the office. JD
would chatter and find something interesting in pretty much anything
somebody said; he was a sponge for information, and never seemed to
get bored, around the team.
Vin himself would lean back in his chair, offer the odd comment now
and then, maybe throw in an interesting topic to keep everybody else
moving, and watch the shenanigans.
And well, that was pretty much how the evening was going. But
something was off.
It took him a few minutes to realize that mainly, it was Buck. Buck
was nursing his beer, stretching it long past the time he'd usually
have spent, and as far as Vin could tell, Buck wasn't looking for
talent. And where he'd usually lead conversations and supply bawdy
stories because he liked to entertain, he was quieter now. Circumspect.
It was Chris, too, in the way he sat unnaturally still, not the
relaxed still that Vin was so familiar with, but the kind of stillness
that spoke of readiness, tension.
Vin looked around the room, wondering if someone was here that Chris
and Buck had recognized--fifteen or more years was plenty of time for
those two to have made enemies or grudges he might not know about. But
no one looked out of place, or appeared to be paying their corner
table special attention.
So he sipped his own beer, and kept his eyes open, determined to
figure out the puzzle for the fun of it, if nothing else.
As Buck slumped further into his chair, a sort of boneless sprawl, a
wide smile split his face. At pretty much the same moment, Chris
stiffened and leaned forward.
Huh.
That was what was out of place; Chris and Buck were sitting next to
each other. Usually, they evened out the table, Chris at twelve
o'clock and Buck at six or so, like family at the head and foot of a
table. But tonight, Buck sat at Chris' left. Slouching. Ignoring some
pretty nice knockers on some pretty attractive women near the bar.
Quiet. And Chris sat still as a statue, his hands gripped together on
the table, his face as neutral and calm as if he'd been in a witness
chair.
Nathan made some comment about Oriental medicine, and abruptly Josiah
and he leaned toward each other, right on cue, and the volume of their
conversation dropped considerably. JD chattered on, while Ezra asked
leading questions and made polite, interested comments. Almost like he
was distracting the kid.
Buck moved again in his chair, slouching further down, and it was only
then that Vin realized Buck wasn't holding his beer. Typically, Buck
kept a hand on the glass, using it as a prop to gesture with, swirl
until the liquid was practically flat, and take small regular sips.
But tonight, both his hands were under the table, arms hanging
comfortably loose and--
Shit. No way!
He gave Buck more credit for discretion, even though he'd always
figured Buck would cross the street if he thought it'd feel good. Buck
was a hedonist, no two ways about it.
But shit no. Not footsies under the table, not in front of the whole
team! And definitely, emphatically not with Chris.
"Mr Tanner, you seem awfully quiet this evening." He jerked his head
Ezra's way, wondering what JD had been talking about and why Ezra was
inviting him in only now. But the careful attention in Ezra's eyes
gave him away; he was in on it, he knew what Vin hadn't, what Vin
would have bet nobody knew: Chris and Buck were--what did you call it?
Together? An item? Fuck buddies?
It boggled the mind.
He watched, out of the corner of his eye, and noted the angle of
Buck's right arm, the subtle movements of deltoid, triceps and biceps.
No two ways about it, Buck was rubbing Chris through his jeans, right
here at the table.
Vin felt like he ought to excuse himself, get the hell out of here,
and clear the bar while he was at it. Of all the dumb-ass,
irresponsible things, two ATF agents did *not* try to give each other
hands jobs in their local!
"Vin?" Ezra again, and Vin frowned his friend's way. Tilted his head
slightly toward Chris, who, he had to admit, had given nothing away.
It was only that Vin paid such close attention to habits, details,
subtle things. Ezra shrugged one shoulder and shook his head slightly.
"Hey Ez, why don't you and me save Inez a trip, and go fetch another
round."
If Ezra was surprise,d he didn't show it. He just rose gracefully and
said, "JD, if you'll hold that thought just one moment, I'm riveted."
"Sure, Ez," JD said, unaware he was being patronized. Hell, Vin
realized, maybe he wasn't. Vin had no idea what the kid had been
talking about.
"He'll tell you later, Ez. Go on, JD." This from Buck, who really did
look calm and casual, and who winked at him as he rose from the table.
Vin suppressed a rising irritation, a sense of creepiness that didn't
bear looking at. He steered Ezra away from the bar and into a quiet
corner by dint of bumping with his shoulder and herding him in that
direction.
"You wanted to speak to me in private?" Ezra asked, all innocence.
"They're fucking each other, aren't they?" He wasn't asking the
question so much as making an accusation, and he knew it.
Ezra frowned. "I assure you, Mr. Tanner, they'd call it something else
entirely."
"What?"
"They've known each other a great many years. Do you really think
they'd embark on such a potentially costly journey just for the sake
of a fuck?"
The thought, and the crude word from Ezra's mouth, brought Vin up
short. "What?" he said again.
Ezra sighed, and Vin sensed the man just barely resisted rolling his
eyes. "It's much more than what you implied."
Vin looked back at the table from his new perspective. It looked
normal from here, casual. Buck and Chris sat no closer than Josiah and
Nathan, and they weren't practically bumping foreheads, as Josiah and
Nathan often did when they got really interested in their subject. But
Vin would be damned if Buck's hand wasn't still in Chris' crotch.
"He's feeling him up, right here in the Saloon?" Vin asked, without
working very hard to veil his disgust. It was... cheap. Tacky. All
Buck maybe, if he was working on a woman; Buck wasn't the kind of man
who embarrassed easily, or saw anything wronge with a little fun in a
dark corner. But Vin wouldn't have believed it of Chris, wouldn't have
believed Chris would participate in something so, well, so public.
"It's rather sweet," Ezra said, and that dragged Vin's attention back
all right.
"What are you talking about, Ez? They could get caught, for Christ's
sake! And then what would happen to 'em?"
Ezra raised an eyebrow at him. "What, indeed?"
Vin looked again, wishing he'd never looked too closely in the first
place. "Chris was married," he tried.
"Yes."
"Buck's fucked half the women in Denver."
"Possibly."
"Then what--and how the hell did *you* know?" he demanded.
"I put two and two together a few weeks ago, and made passing
reference to Mr. Wilmington. He smiled, that soft fond smile that
women seem to swoon over," Ezra said, voice colored with only mild
derision, "and made a rude joke. So I strategized a way to allude to
it in a conversation with Chris in the break room."
"How come?" Vin interrupted. He was still pissed off, and wasn't sure
when, or if, that was going to change. In the fucking bar, right out
in front of everybody?!
"I'd made a bet with myself. So I alluded to it, and Chris looked me
right in the eye and said, 'yeah, Ez, it's true.' I hadn't asked him
directly, of course. But his answer was very clear."
Vin felt a little lost, and a lot out of his depth. "He tell you why
he'd let somebody grab his dick in a public place?" Vin snapped, only
realizing how fast his temper had risen when he registered the sound
of it in his voice.
Chris Larabee was the most private, guarded and conservative man Vin
knew. And Vin would swear on a stack of Bibles that Chris hadn't dated
anyone, not even casually, in the entire two years Vin had been on the
team. He'd have sworn that Buck and Chris weren't lovers, too, and he
didn't like the idea that he'd been wrong. Chris had given him every
impression that that part of his life had been buried with his wife,
and Vin had respected that. This... this sucked.
A hand touched his shoulder and he startled, and finally tore his eyes
from the table. "What?"
Ezra actually looked understanding. "If you were Chris, and--perhaps
you experimented in your misspent youth. Perhaps you had a friend you
trusted who was completely at ease with such things, and who you were
very close to. You grew up, you moved on. You fell in love with a
beautiful woman who you could share your parents' legacy with, with
whom you could raise a family in that slice of rural heaven. Then they
died. And that friend remained."
"I get it," Vin cut in, irritated. "They fucked each other before, and
now they're doin' it again. Shit Ezra, I wouldn't even make no bones
about that. Their business, their lives. What they do behind closed
doors is no concern of mine."
"But they don't live behind closed doors, Vin," Ezra pointed out.
"They live intimately with their co-workers. Now, if you were Chris
and Buck, would you invite everyone into the conference room, or out
to your home, and blurt out that you were lovers, and order your
friends to deal with it and shocking them unnecessarily in the
process? Or would you slowly, carefully expand the boundaries of your
relationship, such that your friends learned as was appropriate to
their natures?"
Vin was completely taken aback. Moreso when Chris and Buck rose from
the table in unison, and walked back toward the toilets. "You're
saying they want us to find out?"
"Of course that's what I'm saying," and now Ezra sounded piqued. "You
think they'd cop feels in front of us if they *didn't*? And they'll
continue to behave as the friends and lovers they are, until all of us
recognize their behavior." He frowned slightly. "Though I suspect it
may take them kissing in the bullpen for Nathan to figure it out. He's
a hidebound heterosexual to the bone."
In spite of himself, Vin grinned. That was the God's honest truth;
Nathan couldn't spot a queer in a gay pride parade.
"You don't think them slinkin' off to the john together is enough?"
"For Nathan?" Ezra sighed theatrically. "No. Are you ready to get
those drinks, now?"
Vin drew in a deep, steadying breath. "I don't like it, Ez."
"They're not asking you to, any more than Buck asked you to approve of
his slutting about, or Chris asked you to approve of the joy he takes
from getting, occasionally, puking drunk."
Ezra had a point there.
Vin met his friend's eyes. "What do you think about it?"
"Honestly?" Ezra asked. "I'm relieved. And I'm happy for both of them."
Vin rubbed hard at his temples. This was going to take some getting
used to. "Relieved? What if they're fucking in the bathroom or something?"
"It's their business."
"It's *stupid,* is what it is."
Ezra shrugged. "That too. Now come on, JD's staring our way now that
there's no one left to distract him."
Uncomfortable, uncertain, Vin just shook his head and followed Ezra to
the bar. There was nothing he could do or say about it now, here.
Maybe tomorrow, or the next day.
Maybe he'd figure out what there was to say.
Ezra helped him carry drinks back to the table, and JD retold the end
of his story about the computer chick he'd met at a seminar last week
who he was currently having sweaty fantasies about.
Vin looked at his watch more than once, and looked at Ezra, who
offered the barest of smirks and a shrug. Getting arrested for public
lewdness, well, that'd certainly get things out in the open.
A few minutes later Buck returned to the table, flushed and grinning,
his eyes roving over the bar like they usually did. "Vin," he said
eagerly, "did you get a load of that gal over there? You were standin'
right by her."
Vin turned his head and didn't have to ask which one. Dark skinned,
small breasted, heavy-hipped, she had that hourglass figure that Buck
liked best. "You ain't too busy?" he drawled, just to see how Buck
would react.
And as casually as anything, Buck said, "just because you're on a diet
don't mean you can't look at the cake in the window."
"You on a diet, Buck?" JD asked. "You're not getting fat."
"It's an expression, JD," Josiah offered. "Though one usually used by
women... well, I imagine Buck's heard it a time or two."
Vin stared around at his teammates, examining each man's face. Did
anyone besides Ezra know yet? Josiah had a look in his eye... maybe.
Chris returned to the table then, and though his skin was dry, his
hair looked damp. He'd splashed his face with water. He'd splashed his
face with water, to cool a flush, or to wash off cum or to--
Vin gritted his teeth and looked down into his glass. Not his
business. Not the whats and wheres, and sure as hell not the hows. Not
his business. Though Vin didn't doubt for an instant that orgasms had
been exchanged. With both of them still and quiet before, and animated
and friendly now, it was obvious.
Damn them. Damn them both. He was going to sit them down and have a
talk with them, real soon.
* * *
At the ranch, Chris threw his keys in a basked on the hall table and
slid off his jacket. Buck caught it before it dropped to the floor,
and hung them both up in the hall while Chris went to make coffee.
There was a late show on, some Fifty Foot Woman thing Buck had looked
forward to.
"Vin knows," Buck called in passing. Chris heard the television click
on a moment later.
"You didn't really give him much choice, did you?" He wasn't sure if
he was more irritated with Buck, or himself. He could have pushed his
lover's hand off his dick, after all. It was stupid, but sexy. Risky,
but hot as hell. Buck had a way of making things like that seem
reasonable, while you were doing them. It was only in retrospect, when
he'd measured the dark, uncomfortable look on Vin's face and the
indulgent one on Ezra's that he'd realized just how blatant they'd been.
"Wasn't that the point?" Buck had returned to the kitchen, and leaned
on the door frame.
"Yeah." Chris sighed. "Yeah. But I don't think your plan strictly
required fucking in the john for him to figure it out."
"I neither fucked nor got fucked, Supervisor Larabee," Buck said, his
voice all smooth, seductive, whorish silk. "I just risked staining the
knees of my jeans to suck your dick, and I think you should be more
appreciative."
The words brought it back graphically, instantly. His own fear, that
babbling, reasonable part of him that said do not, under any
circumstances, go into the john with Buck right now. The way his dick
throbbed in his pants, eager for more of those hard, covert squeezes
and casual pinches through the protection of denim. Buck on the toilet
seat, Chris bracing himself with hands and forearms on the walls of
the stall. Dirty, trashy, dangerous. Hot. Buck's molten stare, his
taunting, "this is a sprint, stud--I'll suck it out of you in three
minutes flat." Buck's moustache tickling and scratching at the base of
his cock as his lover applied suction like a Hoover vacuum and tickled
his balls. His jeans hadn't even gotten past his hips, they'd been in
such a hurry. He'd just stood there and sweated and tried not to groan.
Buck chuckled, and stepped up close to kiss him. "So when do I get
mine, boss?"
Indulgent, in love, Chris reached to rake his fingers through Buck's
dark hair. "You take off your pants and curl up on the couch, all
right? And we'll fool around while we watch the movie."
Buck sighed, and smiled, and his eyes sparkled with love. "We're
handling it just right, Chris," he assured, not letting go of the
earlier topic, yet. "You just make sure you talk to him this weekend,
okay?"
Chris frowned. "Talking's not my strong suit."
"Then let him talk to you."
Chris chewed on his lip, anxious, unwilling to face that hurdle even
though he knew they'd made it as easy as possible. "Can't say I'm
lookin' forward to it. He looked pissed."
"He's scared for you," Buck judged reasonably. "He will be for me too,
when he calmes down. He'll be all right."
Chris nodded, knowing it was true. "Yeah." But he didn't want to think
about it anymore tonight. "I thought you wanted to curl up and watch
your movie?"
Buck's voice, soft as a whispere, added, "Watch the movie while you
pet me."
"Yeah, yeah," he replied, mock-gruff. "Big surprise there." He'd do
more than pet, probably. Buck would wind up on his side, and Chris
would find himself curled around his friend, fingers inside him, cock
inside him, Buck's eyes glazed but still weirdly, intently focused on
the television screen.
"Lucky for me you love things predictable." Buck sauntered out of the
kitchen, all broad shoulders and ignorant, arrogant confidence, big
dick and soft heart and a loyal streak as wide as the sky.
Predictable. Buck was right about that.
The End
