ATF Universe
Disclaimers: The original characters from The Magnificent Seven are owned by MGM and Trilogy. If I owned them I would be much more generous and share. I would only keep one.
Thanks: to Mog, who created the ATF universe and to Amy, who always offers encouragement.
Chris Larabee pushed open the heavy mahogany door. Leave it to Ezra Standish to find the stuffiest, most exclusive bar in Denver. Did he smell the money? Fortunately, the man had been in the city for only a few weeks. If Ezra had been in residence much longer, he would have finessed a membership in a private club somehow, and Chris would have had to resort to flashing his badge or trading on his family connections to get in.As Chris's eyes adjusted to the discreet lighting, he glanced around and finally spotted his quarry. Ezra was in the back at a small table. Self-preservation at the forefront, even in his current misery, the lone wolf had gone to ground with his back to the wall. At Chris's approach, he raised his eyes from his contemplation of the glass in front of him. A brittle smile acknowledged the ATF leader's presence.
"Mr. Larabee. Have you come to ride me out of town on a rail?"
Chris could tell that the southerner was well on his way to complete inebriation. His enunciation was too exact and his movements too carefully precise as if in compensation for the alcohol's effects on his self-control. Chris figured the man took an inordinate pride in maintaining a tight rein over his emotions and his actions. He wondered what it would take to make him loosen that grip.
"No, Ezra. I thought the two of us needed to get some things settled between us. Do you mind if I join you?"
Ezra waved a languid hand at the chair across from him. Chris sat down, but declined a drink from the bottle that was offered. Drinking alone didn't seem to bother the other man. Chris winced as Ezra threw back one quick drink and poured another. Now he knew the man was drunk. With all his faculties intact, he would never abuse good scotch that way. Thus fortified, the younger man faced his soon-to-be former boss.
"Have no fear, my good man. I assume full responsibility for the debacle of last night. My actions were reprehensible and completely inexcusable. I trust that the recital of events in my resignation was sufficient to absolve your team of any blame. If my dismissal would help your cause, then by all means, let the official record indicate such."
Ezra lowered his head and murmured to himself, but still in a voice audible to the man across from him. "Won't be the first time I've left under a cloud."
Chris sighed. This was worse than he had thought. The man really believed he would be thrown to the wolves. Well, he had a lot to learn about Chris Larabee and his concept of loyalty. Besides, any fool could see that Ezra's former FBI team had set him up to take the fall for their mistakes in the joint operation. And Chris Larabee was no fool. But before he could reassure Ezra, the despondent agent raised his head and looked him in the eyes. Chris saw the deep pain there.
"You know, this time I thought I had finally found my place; I thought I had it all--a challenging job, the fellowship of--dare I say --friends, and the respect of a man I was proud to be associated with."
Chris admired the man for exposing his pain so openly. Maybe that tight control was easing just a little. It was time to let him know he wasn't fired and his resignation wouldn't be accepted. However, before Chris could open his mouth, he was hit with Ezra's next statement.
"I've been sitting here feeling sorry for myself and regretting lost opportunities. Now that there's no possibility of a professional relationship with you, I am going to throw caution to the winds. I may never have another chance after tonight."
Slightly bleary, emerald eyes gazed into Chris's own soft green ones. "I have wanted you from the first moment I saw you."
'Whoa...' thought Chris. 'That came completely out of left field. Talk about loosening up....'
Ezra had obviously read acceptance in Chris's stunned silence. He continued his confession. "I walked into that office and saw you standing there with your back to me, and an unexpected shiver of desire ran through me before you had even turned around. Then when I saw that face with those sculpted cheekbones and that sensuous lower lip, I was well and truly ensnared. But you were all business, and, even though it pained me, I was willing to push my desire aside for the chance to work with the team you so magnificently described."
Ezra paused for a moment and took another drink as if for courage. "I would like to spend the night with you, Mr. Larabee...Chris. I'm laying all my cards on the table and going for broke because if I don't take this chance, I know I will regret it for the rest of my life."
Chris had to hand it to him. Even as drunk as he was (and if the level of scotch in the bottle was any indication, he was far from sober), the southerner still had a remarkable command of the language. Now how was he going to handle this gracefully? Ezra was looking at him so sincerely.
Turning slightly in his chair, Chris motioned to a waiter standing discreetly in the shadows. He reached for his wallet and removed several bills. After glancing at the bill proffered by the waiter, he shook his head in amusement and pulled out a couple more. His newest agent had very expensive tastes; the team was going to have to introduce him to the Saloon.
The bill paid, Chris turned his attention back to his problem. Ezra was still gazing at him. Such concentration was unnerving; he needed to get things back under control.
"Ezra, I have every intention of taking you home tonight. You're hardly in any shape to get there on your own."
A smile of cocky assurance and somewhat drunken lust spread over Ezra's face.
"However," Chris continued, "I have to tell you that, as attractive as your offer is, I'm going to have to say 'no'."
The look of rejection that met that statement caused Chris to hurry on with an explanation that wouldn't damage the other man's ego. "Listen, Ezra. The reason I have to say 'no' is that I have a personal policy against interoffice affairs. My team members are strictly off-limits--to me and to each other."
Chris could tell when the meaning of his words finally registered in Ezra's alcohol-soaked brain. His face turned white and then an alarming shade of green.
"Are you going to be sick? Cause if you are, we'd better head to the men's room or you'll never be allowed in The Excelsior again."
Ezra just sat there shaking his head and then slowly lowered it to the table. A few muffled words could be heard: "team member...he said team member." Holding his now aching head in both hands, he moaned, "Please tell me I did not just proposition my boss."
"Afraid so, Ezra. You just didn't give me a chance to tell you I have no intention of accepting your resignation. But don't worry; I was flattered--not interested-- but flattered."
Ezra could not believe the gaffe he had made. "I'm not fired? I'm still a part of the team?"
Chris couldn't help but grin at his agent's discomfort.
Ezra tilted his head and looked at the man who had the effrontery to smile at him. "You mean to tell me I have to go in to work every day and face you, knowing that I...that I...." The last was accompanied with a circular motion of his hand as he struggled to find the words or perhaps lacked the courage to actually say them aloud.
"Damn straight! I didn't call in all those favors to keep you on the team just to have you bail out on me now. Besides...some day we'll look back on this and have a good laugh."
"Somehow, Mr. Larabee, I doubt that both of us will be laughing."
Chris stood up. "I think it's time I got you home. I expect all my agents to put in a full day's work, and morning is going to come real early."
Ezra carefully placed both hands on the table and pushed himself erect. He was still muttering to himself as Chris steered him to the door. "My boss...I told my boss I wanted to...."
+ + + + + + +
Light filtering in through the drapes gradually roused the man sprawled on the bed. A low moan was involuntarily wrung from him. Ezra knew there were only two things that could account for his physical condition: either a bust had gone bad and he had suffered a severe concussion or he had the mother of all hangovers. Since he seemed to be in his own bed he would have to put his money on the latter.
'Come on, Ezra; think! There has to be one synapse still firing in your brain. Where were you last night and what did you do?'
But no answer was forthcoming. His pounding head wouldn't let him focus on any of the images that were swirling through his fogged mind.
'Okay. Perhaps it's time to open my eyes. Any other physical activity is beyond my capabilities at the moment, but how hard can that be.' Ezra found out just how hard as he struggled to pry his eyelids open. The sunshine that greeted him when he finally accomplished that task caused him to flinch and throw one arm over his face.
'Damn! Even the weather is conspiring against me. This is the middle of winter in Denver, for God's sake. Whatever happened to gray, dreary skies?'
Now that movement-no matter how slight-had been accomplished, Ezra knew he should open his eyes and look for clues that might bring order to his scattered thoughts. It just wasn't his custom to wake up in this state. He was a man who disliked puzzles, and if opening his burning eyes and raising his pounding head to look around would give him some answers, then that was what was going to happen.
The moan that followed his actions was much louder than the earlier one, but at least his eyes were open and he was unsteadily propped up on his elbows. Moving his head to look around the room was accompanied with a groan, but he was relieved that he could actually see. For one awful moment, he had thought the sun might have done permanent damage.
'My bedroom all right. I was correct in that assumption. Nothing looks out of place--even my clothes are neatly draped over the chair...Wait a minute...I don't own a charcoal gray suit.'
And a few memories began to reassemble themselves in his whiskey-soaked brain cells.
"Oh, dear lord! Chris Larabee!"
That revelation was followed by the realization that his hearing had survived the night's overindulgence. The shower was running...someone was in the shower.
'Oh, dear lord, he's still here! Now, snap out of it, Ezra. Of course, the man's here. He couldn't very well leave without his clothes.'
His clothes...the thought of a very wet, very naked Chris Larabee was almost his undoing.
'Pull yourself together, man. Mr. Larabee is a gentleman; certainly, he would safely convey an inebriated man to his own domicile. And after so doing, would find that it was too late to drive out to his own residence. Therefore, he very properly slept on the sofa and...and that would explain why this pillow next to you smells intoxicatingly like the man.' 'Oh, give it up, Ezra. Face the facts. You were so hot for him, you probably jumped him in the car on the way over here. My boss...I slept with my boss. And what's worse, I don't remember any of it. Things couldn't get any worse.'
But things could.
"Mornin', Ezra. Glad to see you survived the night."
While Ezra had been figuratively beating his head against the wall and berating his faulty memory, he had somehow failed to notice that the shower had been turned off. Turning his head slightly brought his eyes on a level with a firm, ridged midsection and a towel, loosely tucked and draped low on one hip. Speech failed him, and any moisture he had managed to work into his dry mouth was completely gone. He didn't even have the presence of mind to look the man in the face.
All coherency fled when his overnight visitor moved away from him and casually dropped his towel to the floor. The words 'Greek god' flitted through his mind along with the more prosaic thought of just what kind of workout the older man did to achieve that degree of muscle tone.
Ezra thought he might actually have a heart attack when Chris turned around, now holding his clothes, and spoke. "These will do until I get to the office. I keep a change of clothes there; we all do. That's something you'll probably want to do, too."
The stunned agent was convinced he had become mute. He opened his mouth to say something--anything--and nothing came out. He bemoaned his memory lapse even more.
'Concentrate, Ezra. There's no way you could forget something like that. It's too...too...impressive. Damn! He could recall every lecture his mother had ever given him. Why couldn't he remember one night of what surely must have been indescribable bliss?'
"Chris..." he managed to croak out through his now parched mouth. "About last night..."
The blond man finally pulled on his boxers and sat down on the side of the bed. He leaned into the younger man, stared deep into the blood-shot eyes gazing desperately at him, and gave him a very seductive wink as he tilted his head closer. "Yeah, Ez. That was some night we had; it was everything I imagined it would be."
Chris bounced up from the bed and made quick work of getting the rest of his clothes on. Ezra just lay there, seemingly incapable of even closing his mouth. The ATF leader headed out of the bedroom, but paused at the door.
"Ezra, I'll make an exception this time since I know you must be worn out. But I expect to see you in the office before noon."
"The office...yes, sir...the office. I'll be there."
Then his boss was gone, and Ezra was left to ponder the surreal experience that working with Team 7 and Chris Larabee was turning out to be.
+ + + + + + +
Coming into Team 7's offices at exactly 11:55, Ezra found himself engulfed by the other agents. Buck's bellow of welcome and Josiah's bear hug did little to soothe his aching head. Nathan's firm handshake, Vin's quick pat on the shoulder, and JD's quiet "glad you're gonna be sticking around" were less painful. Ezra slowly made his way to his desk and carefully lowered his body into the chair.
Buck, seeing the southerner's obvious discomfort, walked over to commiserate with him. "Chris said you were a little under the weather, if you get my drift. I've been there a time or two myself. I'm surprised you made it in today."
"Well, our leader didn't exactly give me a choice in the matter." Ezra glanced over at Chris's closed office door. "And speaking of whom, is Mr. Larabee available at the moment?"
Vin looked up from his work and answered, "Sure, Ez. Chris told us to send you in when you got here."
"In that case, I shouldn't keep Mr. Larabee waiting." Ezra walked over to the door and knocked. When he heard Chris's "yeah?", he entered and closed the door behind him.
"Mr. Larabee, I'm here as requested--before 12 o'clock, I might add--and ready to work."
"Good, Ezra. I never had any doubt." Chris leaned back in his chair and smiled lazily at his agent. "So...are you okay with this?" His voice dropped to a velvety caress. "I mean last night and all...."
Ezra returned the smile with a smug one of his own. "Last night, Mr. Larabee? Oh, you mean your explanation of your 'policy'? I don't think that will be a deterrent to my continued employment. I actually prefer women...and an occasional surly blond with mesmerizing eyes and a mouth just made for...."
Chris leaned forward and stopped the other man in mid-sentence. "Watch it, Ezra. Remember who'll be filling out your performance reports. Okay...so you figured out I slept on the sofa. Did your brain cells suddenly start working again? Or what tipped you off that our night wasn't all you'd hoped it would be?"
"Now, now, Mr. Larabee. I think I would like to keep a few little trade secrets. But I must say I would never have thought you had a penchant for such pranks."
"Well, consider it your initiation. This morning was tame compared to what the others can dish out. Congratulations. You passed with flying colors. You're going to fit in just fine."
"Thank you, Mr. Larabee. I think I just might at that." Ezra turned to leave, then hesitated. "There is one more thing I would like to say."
Chris tipped his head and raised his eyebrows in question.
"If we ever do spend the night together as I had intended, I have no doubt that the experience will be truly memorable...for both of us."
Chris nodded seriously. "I'm sure it would, Ezra."
The southerner opened the door.
Chris had one last comment for his agent. "Oh... and Ezra. If I ever do decide to abandon my policy...well, I just want you to know you're second on my list."
Ezra turned around and smiled. "Why, thank you, Mr. Larabee." He continued out of the office.
A few seconds passed. Through the closed door Chris could hear, "Second? Second!!"
The team leader smiled. Yeah, Ezra was going to work out just fine.
THE END
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