"I see your five kisses and raise you a hand job," JD said uncertainly, looking from his cards to Ezra and back again.

"No, no, no." Ezra was exasperated. The boy was signaling his poor hand with everything he did. He even *breathed* badly. JD was looking nervously at him, and he sighed. "It is as important to consider your body language as your bet and your cards. Indeed, body language will tell you more about the game around you than almost anything short of memorizing the pack and understanding the statistical probabilities of any one card or combination of cards appearing."

The kid looked up with interest. "Probabilities?"

"Any single card has a one in fifty two chance--"

"Yes, yes, so," JD frowned briefly and stared at his hand, his lips moving silently, "this hand had a one in one million, forty-five thousand three hundred and three chance of arriving, as it was dealt, in my hand."

Ezra gaped at him.

"And if I know the value of the hole cards, the odds reduce to, um," he frowned for a longer period, his eyes glazing slightly, "Something like one in 43 for any single card pulled, reducing with each card pulled, balanced with the known cards in my hand, and the unknown cards in your hand, is, uh, about one in twenty two. Twenty two point three nine three nine six -- non integer so I might as well round it." He glanced up and caught Ezra's expression. "That's the basis of my PhD. Probabilistic learning. Heuristic learning. Probability nets. It's kind of fundamental? Did I do something wrong?" he added hesitantly, unsure what to make of Ezra's expression.

"You can calculate odds on the fly, in the millions?"

"Er. I'm kinda good at sums. It's why I'm doing a higher degree in mathematics?"

Ezra closed his jaw with a snap, and tore his eyes away from John's puzzled face. "And the odds that I am holding a hand that exceeds your own?"

John grimaced and grabbed the list written in Ezra's neat script of possible winning hands. "I'd have to think about it. A royal flush, that's easy, um, about one in sixty four million. Full house, uh..." he stared at his own cards, and then up again, "Do I have to?"

"No." Ezra's voice was hoarse and his eyes were lit with an evil glint. "Calculate the probability, based on my next discard, of my strategy winning as opposed to yours."

He dropped a six of clubs, and JD's eyes flickered. Ezra could almost see the numbers whirring.

"Um. Approaching one."

"Why?"

"I think you probably have two aces and two eights, and a face card -- maybe a king?" He pulled a sour face. "And I don't."

A beatific smile spread over Ezra's face. He laid his cards down and JD grinned.

"Cool." The dead man's hand -- eight of spades, eight of hearts, ace of hearts and ace of clubs, along with the king of spades lay neatly spread on the bed between them. JD's own cards displayed a rather sad one pair, and an assortment of utterly useless other cards.

"'Cool' does not begin to describe my feelings at this moment in time," Ezra said with a happy sigh.

"Er. Why? I *lost*, if you didn't notice." JD pointed out, getting steadily more confused.

"Indeed you did, and you now owe me," he glanced at the tally sheet, "four hundred and twenty five kisses, seven hand jobs, two blow jobs, and one kinky experiment of my choice."

"No way!" JD grabbed the sheet and frowned. "Oh. Okay. Way." He dropped the piece of paper and knelt up. "I probably ought to start working that debt off asap."

"Certainly. And I shall contemplate the happy moment when I tell my friends that you are twenty two, a graduate student who has been in college since he was fourteen, currently working on his PhD, and that you have never played poker before this very evening. Tell me, did you include the order of the previously played cards in your calculations?"

JD looked at his blandly innocent face suspiciously. "Maybe. Ezra. What are you thinking?"

"Think? Me? I am wounded, wounded I declare that you could even suggest such a thing." He swept the cards out of the way and pushed JD onto his back, and straddled him.

JD eyed him quizzically. "I ain't stupid. You're up to something."

"No." He kissed him exuberantly, then lifted his lips and laughed. "No, my dear young friend, you are most certainly not stupid." He sprawled over JD's body, and counted softly as JD dotted little kisses all over his head and neck.

"Thirty-five-- you're going to have to do something a little more, thirty six, seven, eiiiight."

JD licked lightly over where he had nibbled at Ezra's ear lobe. "You missed a couple." He stroked his hands steadily over Ezra's back learning the shape of his muscled shoulders and trim back with every stroke. He explored dips and curves, the ridges of his shoulder blades and the lines of his ribs, the sweep of his spine, and the narrow boniness of his hips. "That's at least forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five."

"There is a certain beautiful inevitability to the outcome of tomorrow's match. If you can tally the odds for seven people, that is, as easily as for two?" Ezra asked with sudden anxiety.

JD shrugged. "It's just numbers. I can do numbers. What difference does it make?" He shivered as Ezra parted his legs with a knee. He lifted his hips off the bed, pushing up eagerly, and groaned. "Please?"

"I'll explain later," Ezra murmured. JD spread his thighs wider and Ezra lifted his head from its resting place on his shoulder and kissed him deeply. They rocked against each other easily, steadily, their breath coming shorter and shorter.

JD reached down, petting him softly, until he was rubbing a finger over Ezra's crack, trailing circles and spirals around his hole, then running his hands up, blunt nails leaving lines of fire in their wake. His lips sucked and nibbled along Ezra's, finally ending the teasing by seizing his mouth in a kiss that dissolved the world around them.

Ezra moaned and lifted one hip high enough to let his hand explore JD's groin, enclosing his shaft in a dry hand and tugging carefully. JD cried out, an edge of something less than pleasure to his tone. He grabbed for the lubricant that he had carefully tucked under the pillow earlier, shortly after suggesting retiring to bed to investigate the perils of poker. At the time he'd figured that some good old fashioned sex would cheer JD up after what he had anticipated being a desperately unequal lesson. Now he wanted to celebrate. He slicked his hand and returned to JD's cock, surrounding his shaft with his fingers and pushing and pulling with a hard grip that had JD crying out again, this time in undoubted enjoyment. And for that matter, thinking of lube reminded him.

"Darlin'?"

"Yeah?" JD breathed, his eyes almost black as he met Ezra's. He wiggled his hips, trying to encourage Ezra's slowing hand to resume its steady, mind numbing pace.

"I promised you a cell phone. It's downstairs in the other bag."

"Ez--" JD sounded bemused. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"The other bag has more lube." It sounded lame even to his ears, and he shrugged, combing his free hand through the untidy dark hair of his lover. "It's ready to be used. You just have to get it out of the bag."

"Ez, I can't take more--" He looked more focused and Ezra regretted breaking the moment, even as he speeded his hand up as it smoothed back and forth, up and down, never quite the same stroke twice, never stilling.

"Shhh." He lifted his head and looked solemnly down into those dark, disapproving eyes. "John, I want to be able to get hold of you in an emergency. I want you to be able to get hold of me if anything happens to you. Indulge me in this?"

JD sighed resignedly. "Fine."

"I'll leave you my number, and you call me as soon as you've got it set up, okay, so I have your number too." He paused thoughtfully. "I better make sure you have a couple of others too. Just in case."

He slicked a new line of lube onto two fingers and reached deeper between JD's thighs. He dragged his thumb over the tight line of flesh, searching for the open, and when he found it gently pressed inwards into JD's body. One finger, a second. Deeper.

"In case of what -- Ez!"

Harder. He kissed JD's lips, plunged deep into his mouth in time with his fingers in JD's rear. He grinned as JD's legs splayed wider, pulling his knees up to give his feet purchase on the bed to push up, letting Ezra's hand reach further into him. Ezra moaned at the wanton eagerness of the man beneath him. He felt as though he could climb mountains, win crowns of laurel, do anything, the sheer heady power of causing such abandon nearly overwhelming him.

"You are extraordinary," he whispered into JD's mouth. As though he had all the time in the world, as though the idea of fumbling, of mistakes and misjudgments was sheer impossibility, as though John was spun from gossamer, and his own touch the finest thread weaving patterns of complex and shimmering as shot shantung silk between them, he entered him. He moved carefully, gliding inwards as easily as parting waves, settling into his hot, moist depths as though he was coming home.

"Oh." John's voice held as much wonder as Ezra felt, and he blinked away the blurring of his vision, whited out from holding his eyes too wide open for too long, and moved. He hooked an elbow under each knee, pulling them up high until JD grabbed them with his own hands, opening himself utterly. Ez groaned and thrust deep, withdrew slowly, losing his mind in the grip, so soft and smooth to the touch, so firm and unyielding holding him like a glove. He cried out, and JD reached up and kissed him, pulling his face down and thrusting his tongue deep into Ezra's mouth. He accepted it as passively as his own hips moved aggressively, sodomizing his friend, his partner. *His*.

He gasped out, "John!" and wrapped a hand around the back of JD's neck, holding him to their kiss even as his hips slammed forwards again and again, eating JD's cries and whimpers, feeding him with his own nonsensical pleas and fragmented phrases, JD moving under him in perfect partnership.

"God, Ez, Ez, oh, god, babe, *please*," JD pulled his head back, his words strangled and desperate.

His hands moved jerkily on Ezra's back, one hand sliding into the short sweat darkened hair, the other tightening spasmodically on his waist. He responded with a long hard thrust, a second, a third, and a gasped sigh, his body moving faster than seemed possible, lodged as deep as he was. He groaned, something that might have had John's name in it, and came, falling limply into his lover's arms. He barely noticed as they rolled, one leg hooked high around his waist to keep him from slipping out, until JD was on top, and moving with easy grace above him, riding his half hard shaft, pulling at his own penis until he too cried out and collapsed against his lover, gasping for air.

Ezra slowly came back to himself stroking in long lazy sweeps at John's back, his other arm draped bonelessly over his back, moving in small circles on his shoulder. They were both still breathing hard, and he breathed deep, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of John's body splayed across his, moving with him.

"Y'okay?" he murmured, and JD turned his head, blinking sleepily.

"You used short words," he mumbled, and Ezra chuckled, shaking JD on his chest.

"You killed my vocabulary, darlin'."

"Mmmm."

"My back may never forgive me if we don't move," He slowly rolled them until they were cuddled up on their sides, John's head resting on his arm. His eyes were closed, and Ezra watched him, tracing the blue lines of veins just under his skin, and breathing slowly until he slept without really knowing he was no longer awake.

(As slowly as dust settling after a storm, as easily as water into a desert, disappearing seamlessly inside him, lost, submerged, bound together in some manner so ineffable that there could be no parting.)

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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fandoms listed herein. I am certainly making no money off of these creative fan tributes to a wonderful, fun show.