ATF Universe
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine and I assure you I've never earned a farthing for writing this story or any others. (I'm not sure what a farthing is, or was, but I kinda like the sound of it.)
Author's Notes/Comments: Thank you once again, Mog, for the ATF/AU. And a special "Thank You" to Laura for putting up with all the crazy questions at four in the a.m. Hey, wait a sec, that was four a.m. here, not where you are! Oh, well . . . <grin> Thanks also go to Mady who's always there for me. This story was inspired by an old song that several artists have recorded. The version I heard on a clear night lit by a full moon a while back was sung by Bonnie Tyler from her CD "Goodbye to the Island", words and music by Hill and Mann. All rights belong to ATV Music, Ltd. Ms. Tyler, et al are welcome to the copyrights, I'd settle for a night with Chris and Vin.
Chris Larabee was accustomed to the long ride from his ranch to the Federal Building in downtown Denver. He actually enjoyed the time spent on the commute each day. Unless there was some crisis he used the quiet time to either prepare for whatever another day at the office might bring or to calm down from what another day at the office had thrown his way. But today was Friday and there was nothing on the agenda except the little celebration tonight with Team Six. He was actually looking forward to this gathering instead of just going through the motions.Usually he didn't even bother turning on the radio unless it was to hear the news or perhaps a talk show if there was an interesting guest. For some reason as he reached the on ramp of the Interstate and settled in after a sip of the still too-hot coffee he flicked the button and adjusted the sound. Funny, he didn't remember tuning in to this particular station which was finishing playing what J.D. would have called a "moldy oldie".
Just as he was growing impatient with the DJ's idle chatter, a new song began and his hand froze before he could switch the radio off. The voice was decidedly female but it was neither soft nor sweet. The words were uttered in a cigarette roughened and whiskey soaked worldly weariness that seemed to sum up everything that he had been feeling but refusing to acknowledge.
His confusion had begun the moment he first laid eyes on a certain scruffy sharpshooter so newly arrived from rural Texas that he'd been tempted to ask him to wipe off his worn boots before he tracked horse shit on the new carpet gracing the ATF offices. He snorted softly at the memory of that first encounter, and then he drove more or less on automatic pilot as he listened to the words that he could so easily have written himself.
"You ask me if I love you And I choke on my reply. I'd rather hurt you honestly Than mislead you with a lie. And who am I to judge you? For what you say or do? When I'm only just beginning To see the real you . . ."
And as the roughly emotion charged chorus rang through the cab of the truck, Chris could sense how appropriate the words fit the chaotic mixture of feelings he'd experienced so many, many times when he and Vin Tanner had been alone.
"And sometimes when we touch The honesty's too much And I have to close my eyes and hide. I wanna hold you till I die, Till we both break down and cry, I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides."
Of all the sensations that Chris felt when he and Vin were together, he'd thought at first that fear was the most obvious one. But what was he really afraid of? That if anything changed between the two men, their friendship would end? A friendship that had become a lifeline when he was literally drowning in alcohol and despair before this quiet, soft-spoken man had stepped in and quite literally saved his life? Or was it fear of the unknown? He had feelings for another man, for Christ's sake! What in the hell was happening to him?
"And sometimes when we touch . . . " Oh, he'd never touched Vin on purpose. Not like that! But no two agents can sit in a surveillance van filled with bulky equipment three or four nights running and not bump into each other a few times.
Vin had touched him on purpose, though. It had been the last night of their shift and they were both dead tired. He hadn't been able to sleep while the damm surveillance had been going on and Chris was worse off than Vin because he was the "old man" as the casual drawl reminded him when he tried to stretch a few kinks out of his back and neck. And then it had happened.
Vin had taken off his earphones knowing that Chris could still hear anything that might happen which was pretty damm unlikely at four in the morning when the suspect had been snoring like an asthmatic walrus for two hours. He'd rolled his stool over behind Chris and motioned for him to sit still, facing the monitors. Then the magic that was contained in Vin's lithe fingers came alive and kneaded Chris's painful neck muscles into submission. Vin paused only a moment as if asking permission or waiting to be told to stop before dropping his hands to Chris's shoulders. He moved his strong hands slowly, almost in a caress, continuing to give Chris wonderful, soothing relief from the strain of fitting his six foot plus frame into a converted van that would have been uncomfortable for J.D.
Vin worked his way expertly from Chris's neck and shoulders and down to his lower back, finishing with a lingering touch and a softly whispered, "Hope that helped," before moving back to his position and replacing his earphones. Chris Larabee now had a problem of a completely different nature. He'd just been about to step out of the van and take a piss in the deep shadows at the rear of the old building they'd parked near but he wasn't going to be able to do that in the foreseeable future. Oh, he still needed to take a leak badly but he had another more uh, "pressing" problem. Pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. And what a night to have to show up for work "commando" because he hadn't been home long enough to do laundry!
Maybe if he just sat really still for a few minutes and listened to the overweight, drunken perp snoring. And thought about something else. Anything else! He shifted on the stool for the fifth time in as many minutes and then he heard it. That soft chuckle coming from behind him. Vin knew. The son of a bitch knew what he'd done to him!
Chris jerked off his earphones almost ripping them from their connections to the board and ignoring the fact that a certain part of his anatomy was prominently displayed when he stood up painfully. As he exited the rear doors he muttered something under his breath that would have been inappropriate in what Vin referred to as "polite company". From outside the van and all the way to the back of the building Chris could hear Vin vainly stifling his laughter while he waited for matters to calm down enough for him to recycle the three . . . or was that four . . . cups of coffee. And strangely enough, Chris found that he was smiling as well at the success of the timing of Vin's joke. He stepped back into the van with a lighter heart as well as an empty bladder.
Chris was pretending to be mad by glaring at his partner but Vin wasn't fooled. He had heard Chris's muttered curses change to muffled laughter. He hoped that the prank had accomplished what he'd intended. Cleared the air for a serious discussion another time. Chris wasn't the only one who had become more and more confused as the Texan's probation period approached the deadline and the decision would have to be made to keep Vin on the team or continue the search for another agent. Vin knew that he wouldn't be able to leave Chris now even if he was ordered to. He'd been lying in bed late at night working out how he could stay in Denver even if he didn't make the team. Guess he could quit the job he had waiting for him in Texas and go back to bounty hunting again. Or security work. Rolling his eyes heavenward at that particularly ridiculous idea, he punched the pillow into a more comfortable shape and drifted off to thoughts of short-cropped blonde hair and how it would feel between his fingers and the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.
+ + + + + + +
Having his own restless night, Chris's thoughts turned to Sarah again as the hours between full dark and half-light wore on. What about Sarah? If she had somehow known that their time with each other and with Adam would have been so damm short, would she have told him that it was okay to go on living? The beautiful, fiery woman had been more than a match for him but she didn't have a mean bone in her body. Nor was she jealous or judgmental in any way. If Sarah somehow knew that Chris had found someone again, not as a substitute because you can't substitute one person for another, but someone who he could love and take care of and who would love him and take care of him in return. Maybe keep him from drinking and smoking a bit too much. Bully him into varying his diet a bit from snacks during the ball game as a substitute for dinner or steak and baked potatoes at least three times a week . . . Chris grinned in spite of himself. He finally knew the answer to that question. Sarah would have told him if she could to be with whoever it was that felt right for him. His feelings for Vin Tanner weren't a betrayal of her memory. His love for Vin was an honor and a memorial to how special she had been.
"Romance with all its strategies Leaves me battling with my pride. But through the insecurity Some tenderness still survives. I'm just another traveler Still searching for my truth; A hesitant prize fighter Who's aged beyond his youth."
The stakeout had been over more than a week ago. The case had been successfully closed with the invaluable assistance of Team Six. Both teams had gone out together and caroused into the wee hours of the morning and as the groups split up outside the sports bar everyone who had too much to drink paired up with those who had been a bit more cautious. The Friday night celebration had continued into the early hours of Saturday and it wouldn't do for Denver's finest to catch a cheerfully inebriated ATF agent in a celebratory mood behind the wheel.
Vin strolled over to his boss who was saying his good nights to the few agents of Team Six who were still ambulatory and, shoving his hands deeply into the pockets of the most disreputable jeans Chris had ever seen, inquired if he would be his designated driver for the evening? After all, Vin reasoned, he wouldn't want to do any damage to that fine vehicle he'd been driving for so many years . . . Chris laughed at Vin's perfectly serious face as Vin knew he would and motioned him to the passenger side of the big black truck. He knew that Vin had started the celebration out with a mixed drink instead of beer and he'd thought that was a bit odd until he caught on. The first one had contained whiskey. The others had only been soda and ice.
And even odder, Chris had done the same thing. He knew that the timing felt right and that he and Vin were at the very least going to talk about their feelings. "God, that had sounded like he was a damm high school kid!"
But in a way, Vin made him feel like a high school kid. Everything seemed new again. And he could tell by that special crooked grin that appeared across Tanner's face when he praised something that Vin had done especially well that he had the same effect on him. Him. Why not say it? His partner. They'd paired up almost instantly and remained that way. When they were working a bust, if Vin wasn't taking the high ground and covering the rest of the team he was on Chris's left, protecting him. They communicated with police sign language or sometimes nothing except eye contact. They suited each other, two sides of the same coin. And after tonight, hopefully they'd be calling each other more than "Partner" or "Cowboy". Vin was the only one who dared use that one on his formidable boss after he discovered that for whatever obscure reason Chris hated it. To his credit, he did use it sparingly and so far hadn't been on the receiving end of any punches. Yet.
"And sometimes when we touch The honesty's too much Then I have to close my eyes and hide. I wanna hold you till I die, Till we both break down and cry. I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides."
The ride to the ranch was quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet. Vin had scrunched down in the seat shortly after they hit the Interstate and he might or might not have been dozing. They hadn't even really agreed that they were going out to the ranch but the party had started out on Friday night and Vin's apartment would be invaded early on Saturday morning if he was in residence by the neighborhood children who wanted Vin to play ball, or teach them a kata, let them use his computer or maybe just listen seriously as no other adult would to the problems that could be so achingly important at their young ages.
The ranch offered quiet and privacy . . . and two bedrooms other than the master bedroom if talking was as far as tonight went. Chris wasn't going to push Vin. Vin certainly wasn't the demanding type and if what Chris was feeling was accurate, they would have the rest of their lives for that. Chris felt a sudden cold lump of fear form from his throat all the way to his stomach and he was even happier that he'd had so little to drink. He'd had plenty of sexual experiences before he met Sarah. The only problem was that none of them had been with men and he had only a vague idea of what transpired. Then the thought hit him with a surprising rush of more cold fear mixed with the sudden heat of jealousy. Did Vin have any experience with men? If he didn't, then neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. And if he did . . .
Chris pulled the truck up the winding drive, stopping in front of the double garage and turned off the engine. He pocketed his keys, gathered the few papers he might need over the weekend and slammed the driver's door. Tanner never moved. Hell! Was the man sound asleep? Larabee strode around the truck to the passenger side and just as he reached for the door handle, he discovered that Vin had been playing possum. His briefcase, papers, and empty commuter cup went flying in one direction as Tanner pushed the door open and took him down onto the grass in another.
"Gotcha, old man!"
Chris Larabee's years of military training, both conventional and specialized in covert operations made up for the surprise attack and Vin's youth and in less than three seconds their positions were reversed and Tanner was eating grass with all 180 pounds of solid muscle on his back in a hold that was carefully executed to immobilize but not to hurt.
"Just who exactly has who?"
"Okay, okay! I'll give up peaceful, but ya gotta answer a question for me?"
Puzzled at the sudden serious quality in Vin's voice, Chris readily agreed to the condition even though he knew Vin couldn't get away unless he released him.
"Tell me, Chris, how come every time I pull a joke on ya, ya get a hard-on?"
Chris was suddenly glad that he'd never gotten around to installing the motion activated security lights that he'd thought about for so long. If he had, Vin would have seen his face turn bright red as he released his hold on him and let Vin turn over onto his back. He felt his face get even hotter when he realized where Vin was looking. Directly at the betraying bulge in the front of his dark jeans.
"Damm you, Tanner! You ain't the least bit afraid of me, are you?" "Nope."
Aroused, confused and even a little angry at Vin's honest answer to his question, Chris remembered the last verse of the song that he had been replaying in his mind over and over for the last few days. The song that had put his deepest emotions into words.
"At times I want to break you And drive you to your knees. At times I want to break through And hold you endlessly . . .
And sometimes when we touch The honesty's too much Then I have to close my eyes and hide. I wanna hold you till I die, Till we both break down and cry. I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides." Before Vin could roll away or make a defensive move, Chris was on top of him again. Straddling his waist and pushing down on his shoulders, he held Vin still beneath him but for a long moment made no other effort.
"This oughta answer your question, Vin."
Slowly Chris leaned down as he took in the younger man's half-serious half-laughing expression. He was conscious of not only his erection but Vin's own hardness rubbing against him through his worn jeans.
Vin licked his lips quickly, a nervous little gesture that betrayed the serenity he'd displayed earlier and Chris responded by wetting his own lips in preparation for what he was about to do. He paused once more when there was only a fraction of an inch separating them, giving Vin one last chance to move, to resist . . . hell, to laugh in his face if that was how he felt!
Finally, he couldn't wait any longer and he brought his face to Vin's, kissing him softly, gently, pausing to breathe in his scent. Vin wrapped one arm around Chris's back, sliding down low to press their bodies together. He moved his other hand behind Chris's head, grasping the short blond hair tightly.
In spite of the strangeness of kissing a man, feeling the stubble on Vin's face and pressing down against his leanly muscled chest Chris let the last of his restraint go. No longer a gentle pressure or a delicate exploration, Chris took possession of the man beneath him. He began to move his hands and body as well as his mouth, claiming Vin, letting him know exactly how he felt.
Eventually Chris realized that if he didn't stop now he wouldn't be able to and he slowly eased his attack, finally stopping completely and drawing air into his lungs. Vin did the same, recovering enough to smirk at Chris's rapid breathing.
"Did that answer your question?"
"Yep."
"Got any more?"
"Just one right now."
"And . . . "
"Could we get off the hard ground and go inside so we can . . . you know . . . 'talk' some more?"
Chris's answer was to stand up, a bit unsteadily, then reach a hand down to help Vin up. Both men took a moment to recover, then gathered the papers, briefcase and coffee cup that Vin had sent flying across the yard earlier.
As they moved around the house to enter by the kitchen door, Chris let Vin precede him up the stairs onto the deck. He didn't realize that he'd stopped to admire the view of those highly "disreputable" jeans until he heard Vin's chuckle.
"Ya gonna just stand there or do somethin' about it, cowboy?"
That did it, Chris thought as he came up the stairs two at a time to unlock the door and push it open. Not only would Tanner have to pay for all the time they'd danced around what both of them obviously wanted but now he'd have some interest added to the payments. Chris had been going to tell him tonight that he'd signed the paperwork from Personnel and Payroll earlier that added one Vin Tanner to Team Seven of the Denver ATF but now . . .
THE END
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