homo enodatus
"Ez?"
Ezra looked at JD in the mirror as he paused shaving. "Yeah?"
"Any chance of a ride into Denver?"
Ezra turned and looked thoughtfully at him. "Could it wait till tomorrow?"
JD pulled a face. "I suppose. I guess." He wasn't really sure he *had* to go in today. It just made sense, especially as his only alternative was to lounge around panicking about the impending Poker Game of Doom, as he was starting to think of it. He could rearrange the meetings.
"If you mean to say 'Not really'," Ezra translated with a certain amount of irritation, "please just say it."
JD shrugged. "Not really," he shrugged, and rinsed and spat.
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Be dressed by the time I am ready to leave the house, please." Ezra finished shaving, carefully wiping the soap from his face and gently splashing aftershave over the soft skin. He turned on his heel and stalked into the bedroom. JD stared after him in some bemusement.
"What's biting you, Mr. Sunshine," he muttered. They'd overslept a little. Not much, but enough that early morning sex hadn't happened. Maybe that was what was making Ezra the September Grinch. The screech of hangers dragging roughly over a rail set his teeth on edge, and he hastily finished up his morning routine, and headed quietly to get dressed.
His clothes were in a bedroom across the hall from Ezra's. He'd been uncertain as to where to put his stuff, and had been faintly surprised to discover it all neatly put away courtesy of Mrs. Flores when he'd gone for a change of clothes the previous afternoon. He'd expected to have to tug them out of the disarray of his suitcase. Another two cases now sat on the floor by the closet delivered by Donna LaFai's people the previous day, and sooner or later he'd have to broach the topic of the stuff currently in storage. With any luck Ezra's housekeeper wouldn't mind putting away the cases.
Which reminded him.
"Hey, Ezra?" He wandered back into Ezra's bedroom and smiled at the lean man straightening his collar.
"Yes?" Ezra was knotting a dark blue tie and didn't look around. JD shrugged mentally. He couldn't wear the other one every day even if it did match his eyes.
"Those forms turned up."
"What forms?"
"You know. *The* forms." He didn't want to say more, if he didn't get into the habit right now of not talking about it, he'd forget sometime when it was really important he didn't forget.
Ezra frowned, and then enlightenment hit. He turned abruptly and reached JD in two quick strides. "Where are they?" he asked urgently.
"By your computer. I left them there--"
Ezra hurried out of the room and down the stairs, JD followed, still wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist. "John, I will put them in my safe for the present. If you need to get at them I'll let you have the combination, or you can take your set and put them into a bank deposit box."
"Paranoid much?" JD muttered. He watched as Ezra found both folders, examined the contents briefly to make sure nothing was missing, and placed them inside the safe hidden behind a bookcase that pivoted out of place, books and all.
"I do not really want any part of the agreement between us to be discovered by anyone," Ezra said sharply, locking it down and turning to fix his eyes on JD's. "I would, on the whole, be grateful if we do not mention it at all, unless absolutely necessary."
JD frowned. "What, even here, when it's just the two of us." And he'd thought *he* was being over cautious.
Ezra sighed, his lips thinning. "I do not truly believe they would. I am sure they would never-- and yet." He shook his head. "Mr. Wilmington's specialty is surveillance. If he had the least idea that there was something improper, or illegal about how we came to meet he will leave no stone unturned in his quest for knowledge."
"Isn't he your friend?"
Ezra smiled dourly. "There is a saying that fits particularly appositely here. With friends like these--"
"But, they've gotta know you wouldn't do anything *bad*, don't they?" JD was bewildered. If they were friends they wouldn't turn Ezra in for something that wasn't even illegal, would they?
Ezra's face softened. "I would I had your faith, darlin'." JD risked an arm around Ezra's waist.
"If you want I won't say anything." He squeezed tentatively, and was rewarded with a genuine smile.
"Thank you." He hugged JD back briefly then turned him round and pushed him towards the stairs. "Up. Dressed! I will procure our breakfast."
JD ran up the stairs two at a time, relieved that he hadn't upset things after all. He ditched the towel on the floor, and rummaged through the closet. The clothes Ms LaFai had given him would be best. Boxers were on a shelf, socks too. He pulled on the neat slacks, shirt and blazer, grabbed his wallet and the package of papers that had come with the folders, and ran back downstairs, jumping the last five with a thud.
"Ez?" He wandered out to the deck through the kitchen door, "There y'are." He took the cup of coffee Ezra handed him and the piece of toast in his other hand. He dropped to the ground and set the coffee down, pulling out the sheaf of papers from under his arm and setting them down, a foot on them against the brisk breeze that gusted periodically across the yard.
"What have you got there?" Ezra asked curiously.
"The paperwork to pay off the medical bills," he lifted one batch of papers, "my student loans and debts," another sheaf, "and to re-enroll for the graduate program, if there's enough money left over." He looked up. "I think there should be."
"And thus you need to go into Denver today," Ezra responded. "I see." His face was non-committal, and JD wondered if he'd made a mistake somewhere. Again.
"I mean, if it's okay?" he hedged.
"What, to pay off your debts? I believe that was in fact the original point of these proceedings, was it not?" Ezra's tone was cool, and he was absolutely sure that Ezra was angry about something.
JD bit his lips. "I'm not trying to be awkward."
"I know." Ezra finished his coffee and stood brusquely. "I'll see you in the car in ten minutes, no more."
JD hesitated. Clearly Ezra didn't want to be followed, but equally clearly, something was wrong. If it wasn't the loans and stuff, then what was left ... except him going back to grad school? He stood, uncertainly looking after his lover. The papers rustled in the breeze and he stepped on them before any could fly away. Maybe Ez didn't want him going back for some reason. He struggled to think of a reason -- maybe he was afraid that JD would tell people about him, or about the arrangement. Like he had any friends close enough even if he hadn't given his word to keep quiet.
Maybe Ez hadn't realised that was what he wanted to do, more than anything.
What if Ez didn't want him to go back?
He reached down slowly for the papers. The top set fluttered as he held them, and he closed his eyes; he knew the horrible numbers listed there by heart. Three hundred and ninety five thousand, two hundred and forty-five dollars and eighty two cents. As though eighty two cents would make a difference to their nearly four hundred thousand dollars. The price of seventeen months of pain and misery, and a lingering death, his mother so drugged she knew no one. In her last days so ill that he could barely stand to watch as she convulsed, foaming at the mouth, over and over and over...
Another seventy five thousand on student loans. Then credit cards, bills and payments made up the last of it. Five hundred thousand dollars would leave him with somewhere in the region of seven hundred dollars to his name.
He looked back into the house. Ezra's house. Ezra's money.
*Nothing* is required of you, except your own happiness. Ezra's voice was sharp and definite even in his memory.
He looked back at the papers. If Ezra didn't want him to, could he be happy without finishing his degree? After Ezra had already given him so much? If the worst came to the worst, he could simply wait the year until the agreement was over. Start next September instead. He stared at the papers in his hands. He could live with that. He was pretty sure he could live with that.
"John?"
"Would it make you happier if I didn't go back to college?" he blurted out, and turned bright red. He hadn't meant to say it, dammit. He stared at his feet, trying not to look up as hard heels rapped briskly across the deck until he was staring at the toes of a pair of dark leather shoes.
"Do you want to go?"
JD nodded, his face resigned.
"Then go." His voice was curt, and he started to turn away.
"You don't want me to."
Ezra stopped and his lips narrowed. "I don't care if you go or not. I'm too busy worrying about tonight."
JD grinned with relief. "I thought I'd done something stupid or offended you or--"
"John?"
"Ez?"
He felt a hand on his chin lifting his face until he was looking straight into Ezra's clear green eyes. When he spoke his voice was gentle. "John... JD." He kissed him briefly, no more than touch of lips. "It's your life. You can do as you please."
"Are you sure? I don't want to get you into trouble or anything? I can keep quiet, I promise."
Ezra laughed out loud. "Darlin', you? Quiet? I know you'll keep our secret, but keepin' quiet into the bargain?" He wrapped his arms around JD, who stood quietly in the circle of his arms, still a little uncertain, and kissed in playful pecks at his lips until he was kissing back, both of them laughing as it turned into a game, trying to dodge kisses to noses, eyes, ears, while getting their own in.
"Bastard."
"Tease."
"Clothes horse."
"Coquet."
"Aren't those them little potato things?"
"No! You little heathen."
"Dirty Reb."
Ezra responded with a wicked grin, "*And* you like it."
JD shrugged, smiling mischievously. "*Maybe*."
"*Maybe*?"
"Well, y'know, all that sex..." He ducked out of Ezra's embrace and dodged towards the kitchen door, "Could get kinda samey after a while."
"*Samey*!" Ezra dived after him. "I'll show you samey!"
They scrambled through the house and Ezra caught him in the hallway, an armlock rapidly turning into a liplock that left JD gasping, "I don't remember that on 'So you want to be in Law Enforcement' at the careers fair."
"ATF professional secret. And now I have kissed you, you are not allowed to leave until you have been thoroughly searched for contraband and listening devices." He worried at one ear lobe in demonstration.
JD laughed. "I need something to put these into," he tucked the papers more safely under his arm.
"I have a briefcase you could temporarily make use of." Ezra disappeared into the study and appeared again a moment later with a plain black leather case in one hand. "Perhaps this would suffice?"
"That's great, Ez." JD stuffed the papers in, and headed for the door. "Come on, old man, no time for lying around making kissy face with the boyfriend."
"I'll have you know I am only seven years older than you!"
"Hey, the big three oh then this year -- old man!"
"That's the trouble with mathematicians," he grabbed one of the bags he'd brought home the day before, checked inside and handed it to JD. "Your phone, brat. Give them a pair of numbers and they're off making wild accusations based on arithmetic." He pulled JD towards the front door. "Do you even own a comb?" He smoothed the wild hair down into a smooth cap, and pushed him out the door. "Keys?"
"Check."
"Wallet?"
"Check."
"Handkerchief?"
"Get real."
"Here. Try not to give it back to me if you end up using it for anything, and I do mean *anything* at all."
"Geez. Ezra Martha Standish. One day you'll make someone a fine wife."
"You're not too old to bend over my knee."
"Promises, promises." JD slid into the low slung bucket seat, and grinned in relief at Ezra as he settled in the driver's side. Whatever had been bugging him was clearly not too important if Ez could brush it off like this.
"I seem to remember," Ezra didn't look at him at all as they pulled out of the drive onto the road into Denver. "That *someone* still owes me 'one kinky experiment'."
"Old age is doing something funny to your brain, Ez," JD said solemnly. "You're hallucinating stuff that never happened."
"Open your damn present, you ungrateful child."
"I'm grateful!" JD said indignantly, and slid a hand onto Ezra's thigh, and then up and round... "I can show you right now how grateful I am."
The car swerved.
Ezra removed JD's hand back to his own lap. "You break it, you pay for it," he warned.
JD flinched, and glanced down at the folder at his feet. "Guess I'll pay this lot off first before I start getting any more."
Ezra glanced briefly over at him, and rested a hand briefly on his leg before returning it to the steering wheel.
They sat in silence for a while, until Ezra sighed. "Tonight."
Tonight. JD Dunne and the Poker Game of Doom. JD grimaced. "What are they like?"
Ezra looked like he was thinking about it, and then sighed. "It's hard to describe them without making them sound -- " he hesitated, drawing breath several times only to let it go, unable to think of the next words.
"Odd?"
"Or dangerous, or careless, or foolhardy, or suicidally stupid or --"
"This isn't exactly comforting," he pointed out.
"Neither are they." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Chris Larabee. Team leader. Was married, wife and son died in a house fire."
"That's awful!"
"He certainly thought so. Took him two years to emerge from the alcoholic haze. Don't offer him beer. Or anything else containing alcohol. If he wants it, he'll have it, but I'd prefer he doesn't fall off the wagon at my house if at all possible. The consequences tend to be both expensive and embarrassing, when you factor in the extremely short fuse on his temper. He doesn't like people very much either."
"Whoa, whoa, oh my god, are you talking about the Larabee that broke the Candassi weapons ring five years ago? The guy took on eight men and *won*! He dropped one man when he was barely conscious, the court cited him for extreme bravery at the grand jury," he asked excitedly. "You work with *that* Chris Larabee?"
"And acting like *that* will probably put you straight up on his 'people he loathes and avoids' list," Ezra warned him dryly.
"Oh."
"Vin Tanner is his best friend. Texan. Sharpshooter. Something of a humorist."
"You mean he tells jokes?"
"I mean he thinks it funny to get a bag of soot and a pair of sneakers to put footprints over my Jag. Someone who is under the mistaken impression that practical jokes are funny."
"Cool." JD smiled; maybe he'd be able to get along with this guy. Larabee all in all, didn't sound like someone to get along with. Or even get anywhere near. Besides which, he'd already screwed up by phoning him yesterday. His smile faded, and he turned his attention back to Ezra.
"I'm doomed." He drew a deep breath and smiled as JD looked anxiously at him. "Buck Wilmington. Think's he's quite a lover -- ever seen Les Miserables?" JD shook his head. "You'll understand what I mean if you ever do see it. Lock up your daughters. Known Larabee twenty years, pulled him out of that alcoholic puddle he was wallowing in after Sarah and Adam died."
"How old was the little boy?" JD asked quietly.
"Four."
"Poor kid."
"Buck also thinks he has a sense of humor. Yesterday this was demonstrated by a bucket of sugar water above the door back into the office. I beg your pardon?"
JD slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. "Nothing!" he said, somewhat muffled.
"No doubt you were exclaiming that now you understood why I came home in a different suit to the one I left in."
"I noticed the tie was different." JD said honestly, and smiled out the window.
"The tie?"
"It uh, wasn't the one I'd picked." Didn't match your eyes.
"So. Buck. Yes. Fancies himself irresistible. Which reminds me: I must take you to Recillos' Wine Bar at some point." A smirk lingered on his lips for a moment and JD wondered just what awful thing was going to happen to him, or possibly this Buck guy, at the Recillos Wine Bar.
"Josiah Sanchez. Has done a little of everything in his lifetime, and is always ready to share his wisdom." Ezra paused and shook his head. "I didn't mean that to sound quite that sarcastic. He's a good man. Almost became a priest, and I wonder sometimes, if he might yet go back to it. Team profiler and forensic psychologist."
"He sounds interesting."
"As long as you don't mind being called son." He rolled his eyes, then let his attention fix once more on the road. "Nathan Jackson. Serves as the team medic. Can get a little, ah, enthusiastic about his knives and his girlfriend, and holistic medicine. If he tries to give you anything out of a brown leather tobacco pouch refuse politely and back away."
"Why?"
"Herbal medicine. The first, last and only time I took it I ended up in hospital for a week." He glanced grimly over at JD. "By the way, I'm allergic to anything containing digtalin. Let's hope I never get heart disease."
"Ooo-kay. What about you? I know more about them now than I do about you."
"I sincerely hope not," Ezra smirked, and JD rolled his eyes.
"You know what I meant. What do you do? On the team I mean."
"Some profiling. General work."
"And?" JD watched him narrowly. The sparsity of his words suggested something was off. And that little twitch by his left ear, he'd noticed it last night when they had been playing poker, seemed to indicate that Ezra was unhappy with something. If the guy wasn't going to be straight with him, he was going to have to try to figure him out the hard way. What was it he'd called it? Tells.
"Undercover work."
He bit back his first response, which was 'cool', and frowned. "Do you enjoy it?"
"Enjoy? I am very good at it, if that is what you mean."
"Not exactly." He rubbed a sympathetic hand over Ezra's thigh above the knee. "Do they know you hate doing it?"
Ezra shrugged. "I do not hate it, it is a worthwhile and important job. I will concede it is sometimes a little tedious and time consuming, but it is worthwhile."
JD smiled a little sadly and let it drop. "Uhuh. So, when I get done with the school thing I'm going to be looking around. What's law enforcement with Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives like?"
"Time consuming, tedious and boring, interspersed with short periods of extreme terror. I suppose though, you should really know more about me, and we need to get at least a minimum of a cover story in place," Ezra said coolly.
"Sure. What are we going to tell them?"
"That's the question." Ezra frowned, and JD watched as they switched lanes smoothly despite the building traffic.
"Maybe we knew each other before my mom," he stumbled, then carried on steadily, "before my mom died."
"How long before?"
"She got ill in December of 2001. I'd finished up the taught stuff and was starting on the dissertation when she was diagnosed. I didn't drop out of the program until February 2003, but I wasn't going out much. Most of my friends kinda vanished." He shrugged, not wanting to look at the pity he feared would be lurking in Ezra's eyes. Suddenly he wished they'd not chosen to have this conversation in the car where he couldn't escape, and his companion might guess at all sorts of things that he wanted to leave unspoken.
"So maybe sometime in early 2001?"
"Okay. But only casually."
"Agreed. And after your mother passed... we met again through a mutual acquaintance and hit it off? No. It doesn't explain why you moved in so suddenly."
"Maybe we were talking online beforehand. You know, met in a chatroom, got talking, starting finding a private room to chat, talked on the phone a few times, couple of dates."
"All very low key because of your circumstances." Ezra added, nodding.
"And yours -- fed, undercover guy, not wanting to be seen in too many places with a boyfriend."
Their eyes met. "This might actually work." Ezra said out loud, and JD grinned.
"Do you actually know how to use a chat program?" JD asked doubtfully.
"Of course I do."
"You forget, I've seen your computer." JD drummed his fingers on his pants. "Okay. We were using ICQ, and stopped because of the spam. We emailed each other for a while, hmm, okay, yes, I didn't know your *work* email, because you wouldn't contact me in working hours. My school email account was jdd43 at Denver dot edu, if you can remember that. I don't suppose anyone will ever ask, but you might as well know it. You do *have* a personal email address?"
"Not a Gambling man at aol dot com, all one word, no spaces or lines or anything," he said. "You've got a good eye for detail."
JD shrugged the praise off uncomfortably. "Got to with programming."
"To summarize then. You are John Dunne, twenty two, we met in some bar or club, we don't remember where, in spring 2001. We stayed in contact off and on via ICQ, more and more in private rooms, and via email. You moved in the day before yesterday, and we have been dating for-- a month? Two?"
"A month, seriously." JD shook his head admiringly. "And you said I paid attention to the details."
Ezra shrugged. "Important aspect of staying alive."
JD froze in his seat. He slowly relaxed as Ezra continued detailing off what he knew of JD's history, not noticing his reaction. He wasn't entirely sure where that reaction was coming from, and didn't really want to examine it too closely. He rather suspected it was to do with his mother, and was going to hurt like fuck if he got around to confronting that particular twitch.
"Is that it?"
JD shook his head. "Yeah, sure. Look, you can just drop me off at the main campus. I can find my way everywhere from there." The turnoff for the university was fast approaching and Ezra indicated and took the turn.
"Do you want to meet up for lunch?"
"If you want. I don't know when I'll be free." He frowned. "I've got an appointment with the insurance people at nine, and another with the administration at two. I figured I'd leave plenty of space between them."
"Give me a call when you're ready."
"Okay." JD agreed, and watched as they glided past the engineering building. He swallowed hard. He hadn't been here for nearly a year. What was he thinking?
"I'll come and fetch you."
"Okay."
"You okay?"
He glanced at Ezra, but couldn't decipher his expression and shrugged. "Yeah. Fine."
They pulled into the visitor's parking and Ezra stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could get out of the car. "I have every faith in you," he said quietly, and lifted JD's hand to brush a kiss over his knuckles discreetly. "You've got my card."
"I have?"
Ezra grinned. "You have. Rear pocket." JD's eyebrows went up.
"Have a good day." JD nodded and slid out, then stuck his head back inside. "You too, okay? Be careful, right? No tin buckets?"
"I promise." His face was solemn, and JD nodded.
"Well. Okay then."
JD sighed as the dark Jaguar slid back into the traffic and was promptly lost among the cars. He rubbed the folder in his hands, and picked up the bag at his feet. He probably had time to grab another coffee before the meeting.
He arrived at the meeting feeling a lot more awake, although he still hadn't been able to figure out what the hell had been bugging Ezra. He was twenty minutes early, and gave his name to the receptionist with something approaching confidence. He pulled the cell phone box out of the bag and flicked through the handbook before turning it on. The phone was small, sleek and silver, and he flipped it open and shut, open and shut, irresistibly reminded of Captain Kirk. According to the handbook it had everything including internet access, vibrate function, and the ability to breathe underwater in nineteen different languages. He stood to slide his hand into his back pocket and smiled to find a small slip of card there. He carefully programmed the number in, and put the phone into his pocket, hanging on to the card, twisting and turning it over and over as he waited. Somehow the thick cream card felt warm, and --
"Mr. Dunne?"
He grabbed his bags and nearly over-balanced as he stood up too quickly. "Yes?"
"This way please." The short, plump woman smiled perfunctorily at him, and he sighed. A nobody again, he thought grimly, and his shoulders slumped as he followed her. He sat in the chair indicated and set the folder on his lap. He was about to slide the business card into his pocket, and abruptly ran his thumb over the embossed name. I have every faith in you...
He put the card away and smiled at her, holding out his hand. "I'm John Dunne, thank you for seeing me so quickly."
The woman looked at his hand as though it was carrying five types of smallpox, but shook it, and smiled back even though it never reached her eyes. "Marcie Byers. I understand you have some questions about your payment schedule?"
He nodded and unzipped the folder, drawing breath to speak when she carried straight on.
"Mr. Dunne, I have to say right now, that I am very sympathetic to your situation, but there really is nothing we can do to reduce the monthly payments to your account. Your mother, rest her soul, was a very poorly lady before she passed."
"I--"
She held up a hand, "Now, I know it's hard to hear, but really, perhaps the time has come to re-schedule your education until it is more economically viable, and--"
"Ms. Byers?" He raised a hand tentatively, and she paused. He strongly suspected from her confused and slightly nervous smile that he had interrupted a well rehearsed spiel and she might never find her place again. Maybe that would be for the best.
"Yes?" She leaned forward, smiling blandly. Odd how much sexier bland was on Ezra, he thought randomly, and suppressed his grin.
"I don't want to reduce my payments."
"You don't?"
"I don't."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm quite sure."
"But, then," she looked helplessly at her computer, and then back at him, "what do you want?"
"I want to pay it off."
"Well, of course. Oh! You want to increase the payments?"
"Er. Sort of. I want to pay it off. Completely."
"We can arrange something based on your new income and--you what?" Her veneer of professional expertise crashed and burned.
"I want to pay it off. The whole sum. A distant cousin left me a small inheritance, and I think I have enough to clear the whole thing."
"You want to pay off the capital?"
"Yes."
"All of it?"
"*Yes*."
"Now?"
"*Yes*." JD wondered if she was going to actually get any more stressed, when her fingers started stuttering across the keyboard, apparently independently of the rest of her body.
"You want to pay off the full, lump sum?"
JD sighed. It was just as well his next appointment wasn't for another four and a half hours.
"That's correct."
"Well then." She swung around to look at her computer screen. "That'll be two hundred and thirty five thousand, eight hundred and thirty seven dollars. And sixteen cents."
"Excuse me?" He had been braced for the full enormity of the nearly four hundred thousand that his statement listed, and he was pretty sure it hadn't been mentioned.
"Two hundred and thirty five thousand, eight hundred and thirty seven dollars. And sixteen cents." And her tone of voice added, are you deaf or something?, with an option on, bet you can't really afford that much, now can you?
"That's not quite the amount I was--"
"Payment at this stage, Mr. Dunne, allowing for early repayment indemnity, the sum paid off so far, leaves the capital amount of two hundred--"
"Yes, okay, I get it, but--" he stumbled helplessly before saying, "That's not enough."
"You do not have enough?" Her voice dripped oily sympathy. "We can arrange for a partial repayment of the capital and--"
"No!" He interrupted, quite loudly he suspected because she glared at him. "No. God. Um. I was expecting the repayment amount to be more."
"More?"
"More." They stared at each other, both clearly with the lowest possible estimation of the other's mental capacity.
"You do realise, Mr. Dunne," she asked cautiously, dawning hope on her face, "that early repayment means you do not have to pay the full thirty years of interest?"
"No interest?"
"No."
"No interest payments at all?" he asked, stunned. And he called himself a mathematician. Good god. Simple interest over thirty years, at fifteen percent.
"None," she said loudly and clearly, exaggerating the movement of her lips as though he were deaf.
"Good God," he said blankly. "Just two hundred thousand?"
"And thirty five thousand, eight hundred and thirty seven dollars. And sixteen cents."
"And sixteen cents. Mustn't forget that sixteen cents," he laughed giddily. "Will you take a check?"
She would, it transpired, rather take a bank transfer. An hour and a half later he left the building feeling oddly light, and still somewhat giddy.
Numbers danced madly through his head. Seventy five and two hundred and thirty five, and sundries, and re-enrolment, and he'd have nearly a hundred and fifty thousand dollars left. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He said it very quietly, to see how it sounded. "A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. One. Hundred. And fifty. Thousand. Dollars. Hundred an' fifty thou. One hundred and fifty fucking thousand oh my god count 'em and weep dollars."
Maybe the student loan repayments wouldn't have any interest on them either. Good God. He sat abruptly on the curb, forcing several people to detour around him abruptly and scowl at him. He paid no attention. He pulled out his phone (his phone! He could pay Ez back for the phone. And the phone calls! He hadn't even dared think about paying for the phone calls!), and stared at it for a long moment before carefully pressing speed dial two.
"Standish?"
"It's me. I. That is JD. John."
"Are you all right?" Ezra's voice sounded strange, but he didn't really pay attention. Pay.
"Ez?"
"Yes?"
"I paid it off."
"Good boy."
"No. You don't understand. I paid it off, and there wasn't any interest."
"None?" He could hear the dawning grin in Ezra's voice, and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear, his grin making his cheek muscles ache.
"This is starting to sound like the conversation I just had with the repayments woman. She thought I was a complete 'tard."
"None at all?"
JD laughed out loud from pure happiness. From the mischief in Ezra's voice as he made a good guess at how JD had reacted. The freedom from those huge, horrible debts. "God, Ezra P. I'm so happy I think I could die right now."
"Don't you dare, darlin'. And you call yourself a mathematician? I think this calls for a celebratory lunch at the very least."
"Ez, I'm going to have a hundred and fifty thousand dollars left after everything," he whispered.
"That's great, kid," he said flatly, and JD frowned. "What are you goin' to do now?"
Something was wrong. "I don't know. Pay for lunch? Are you okay?"
Ezra laughed, and it was all right again. "I believe I am just fine, Mr. Dunne. I may even be able to think of one or two things for you to spend your windfall on. When do you want to meet?"
"Now? Whenever you want! I'm clear till two, so whenever you're free is good. Call me!" he added, laughing with sheer happiness.
"I'll do that," Ezra's voice sounded almost stilted, formal. Not at all the man who had pretty much played kiss chase in the house with him this morning.
"You sure you're okay, Ez?" JD asked, worried. "Did I call at a bad time? I'm sorry, babe, I'll go now."
"I'm fine," Ezra snapped, and then sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm a little stressed by some stuff going on."
"People listening, huh? You can tell me about it at lunch. Look, I'm gonna go see if I can enroll again. You'll call, right?"
"I promise."
"Take care, babe."
"You too." There was a pause as though he'd meant to say something else, and then he said quietly, "You have fun, darlin'."
JD's face lit up, "I'll have more when you're here. Seeya later." The phone clicked off in his ear, and he pulled it away, still wondering what was wrong with Ezra.
----------------------------------------------------
"That your young man?" Josiah leaned on the back of Ezra's seat and rumbled almost directly into his ear. "John?"
Ezra shot an irritated look, and gestured curtly at the pile of paperwork on the conference room table in front of them. "I thought I was supposed to be keeping my mind on the Lasater case?"
"You've been distracted all morning. Maybe you'd feel better with someone to talk to?"
Ezra shook his head. "The property listing for the twelfth of March has some inconsistencies with--"
"Inviting someone to move in with you is a big step."
Ezra ignored him. "--with the listing that was obtained in the audit of the nineteenth."
"When did you decide to ask him?"
"A little while ago. Now, it looks as though there is some confusion over whether the inventory listing of 'brandy, case of' is in fact the same as the 'Benedictine, eighty three bottles of'. An egregious error if you ask me, indicating either the sheer lack of culture on the part of the auditors, or culpable false reporting, on the worst interpretation. Either way, they seem to have acquired--"
"Have you been seeing each other long? You never mentioned a boyfriend." He hesitated and settled back into his seat, leaning forward on both elbows, watching Ezra's carefully controlled mask intently. "I hope it wasn't because you thought we wouldn't accept him. I hope you know that it makes no difference to us."
Ezra smiled. A small, unenthusiastic grimace. "Certainly. Lasater appears to have acquired at the very least, eight cases of liquor without benefit of the revenue process."
"Ezra, son," Josiah stopped him. He sighed and eyed him sympathetically. "Getting cold feet?"
Ezra's head snapped round. "No," he said shortly. He closed his lips to the point that they became thin white lines. "I really don't see it's any of your business," he added, in as polite yet frigid a tone as he could muster.
"Ezra, it's obvious something's wrong. Now, you can either just be rude, and have a terrible evening when it doesn't go away, or maybe try and sort it out."
Standish dropped his head into his hands. "Do you have no concept of the term 'private life'?"
"If you want an ear, I'm right here."
Ezra grimaced, and Josiah held his breath.
"I -- no. Really. I am not turning a briefing session on the misappropriations of Skyane Lasater into an encounter group."
Damn. Time for the big guns. "If you can't straighten up, Standish, Larabee's going to have to put you on desk duty." Ezra looked almost relieved for a flicker of a moment, and Josiah frowned. Hmmm.
"Is it work?"
"Apparently not," Ezra slapped the file closed and pushed the chair back with an angry hand. "My personal life is just that, personal. I'll thank you to stay out of it."
"Is it Maude?"
Ezra laughed harshly. "No." He laughed again. "Not Mother." He walked to the window and stared down the twenty three stories to the ground. "I, I merely find that I am somewhat unprepared for the difference John has made. Is making. In my life."
"Ah," Josiah smiled, trying not to let his amusement into his voice. Judging by the twitch in Standish's back, he hadn't succeeded. "Tell me about him."
Ezra shrugged. "He's twenty two. He's a graduate student at Denver State. He --" he sighed.
"What's he like?"
"Trouble. Dark haired, dark eyed, trouble." He could hear the affection in Ezra's voice and relaxed slightly. At least there probably wasn't any kind of coercion going on there.
The team had discussed the oddity of the ultra-private, utterly discreet Ezra Standish suddenly moving a boyfriend in the previous evening, after he had fled home with his ice-cream and a couple of bags that he had steadfastly refused to allow Buck to look inside. None of them had even known he was dating, and to make it more suspicious, Vin had been pretty sure he'd said he hadn't had a date in months less than two weeks ago.
"Trouble? What sort of trouble?" Josiah injected a note of professional concern into his tone to see what would happen.
"He managed to lock himself out yesterday. Then he lost the details I'd given him, couldn't remember find the phone numbers or email addresses." Ezra laughed. "He got sunburnt when he was swimming, and got aftersun *every*where. I don't think my couch is ever going to be the same again."
"Your leather couch?" Josiah asked, slightly incredulous at Ezra's insouciance. "The couch you made us wash down and work leather food into when we dropped a plate of nachos on it?"
He could make out Ezra's smile reflected in the window as it turned ever so faintly smug, and grinned as red climbed the back of his neck. Ah. The couch really *wasn't* ever going to be the same again.
"He can only cook one meal, and three thousand pasta variations," he paused to smile again, and Josiah smiled too as Ezra stopped, clearly remembering something that filled his eyes with tenderness.
"You're in love with him," Josiah concluded and Ezra froze.
"No!" He shook his head. "Absolutely out of the question."
"Why?"
"Because it is, do you understand?" He scowled fiercely at the glass, and Josiah grinned.
"Chris has been giving you pointers on that glare. Careful of any birds that may fly past. Would be a crime to kill them just for flying across your line of sight." he chuckled. He moved around the table to perch on it, sitting just behind Ezra.
"Do you think it bothers us?" he gestured vaguely to indicate the rest of the team. "Why should it? We've known you for a couple of years now, Ezra. We're not going to suddenly be bothered by you." He thought about that for a moment, "Well, not more bothered than we normally are." He stood and reached out to rest a hand lightly on Ezra's shoulder. "You don't have to hide from *us*. You should know that by now."
Ezra looked away, and Josiah thought he caught a hint of shame on his face. "I-- you. I can't."
"Why not, son?"
"It's just impossible," he said flatly.
"Is there something wrong with him, is that it? Is he in trouble with the law? Or in debt, or--" He'd quietly emailed Vin the surname as soon as he'd heard Ezra use it. By now the guys had hopefully been able to run it for as much information as possible, but if there was something, and Ezra knew it, it might explain his mood today -- and his secretiveness. Although when had Ezra been anything except secretive?
Unexpectedly Ezra smiled, though it was a look that held some private amusement that Josiah knew Ezra would never share. "He's no criminal. He might have once been involved in a hit and run driveby ice cream theft," and judging by the wicked grin on Ezra's face, there was no crime involved, "But I'm sure he was very sorry afterwards."
"I'm sure he was," Josiah started laughing, and Ezra bit his lip in uncharacteristic hesitation, and then ruefully joined in.
Ezra walked back to the desk and sat down with a sigh. He rested his head in his hands and said helplessly, "When did my life go completely out of my control?"
"I don't know, son. When you met John?"
"You have no idea," he said in heartfelt tones. He shook his head again. "It's like having a, a, I don't know, a gadfly, and I have to explain myself, and I don't have any *privacy*, or *quiet*, and--"
"Do you want him to go?" Josiah asked with mild curiosity.
"Go?" He sounded as though the idea had never even crossed his mind. "Good Lord, no. Of course not."
"Then it sounds like you're just getting used to each other." Josiah smiled faintly. "You might want to agree some house rules, discuss how you're feeling. I'm sure he's having some of the same difficulties settling in, and don't forget to make some time for yourselves..."
"House rules! Discuss! If I could just manage to have a single, solitary conversation with him that didn't end up with us--" he stopped dead and the suave, ice cool, unflappable, unreadable ATF agent blushed scarlet.
"Ah." Josiah was truly proud that he did not laugh out loud. He also wondered if he had herniated himself. "The honeymoon period."
"Lasater," Ezra said firmly, and Josiah was merciful, and turned to the files.
"If you want to go for lunch at twelve, I'll cover here," he offered, and when Ezra mumbled his thanks, looked down at the files with a small smile on his face. This kid was keeping Ezra happy, and off balance, and if he was any judge, very contented with his life, even if he didn't know what do to with it. It was about time, he thought to himself, and let it go. He'd tell the guys later.
----------------------------------
JD bounced from one foot to the other, looking up and down the road for the black Jag. Ez had called less than five minutes ago to say he was on his way, and had booked them a table.
He stilled. Restaurants where you had to book ahead weren't his normal kind of eatery. What if he fucked up and did something dumb or embarrassing or-- "Ez!"
A big grin spread over his face as the car stopped. It was such a cool car. The window wound down and Ezra was smiling at him, and he wasn't entirely sure but he thought he'd slid over the hood and through the window into his seat. He was absolutely sure about the kiss though.
"Hey, Ez," he said as he pulled back, looking into glazed green eyes, "How was your morning?"
"Ah, fine." For a moment JD thought he was going to blank him, and then a small smile grew on his lips, and he touched JD's face with gentle fingers. "Better for seeing you, darlin'." He looked faintly startled at himself and JD wondered if he didn't mean it, or didn't mean to say it. Either way. He frowned. He thought way too much.
"Where are we going for lunch?"
"Recillos' Wine Bar."
"You said that name before, didn't you?" JD tried to place why it seemed familiar.
Ezra smiled slowly. "I believe I did," he said enigmatically, and refused to say another word on the bar. "Were your endeavors successful?"
"Huh? Oh, you mean did I enroll." JD grinned hugely, "I'm back in. And I'm in good standing because I dropped out cos of my mom, so I don't have to do-over, but Professor Sanders said I ought to drop by some of his sessions because there's been some good stuff coming up on probability nets and quantum computing, and it sounds *so* cool, I really want to get started, I've got some reading, you know it took longer to get my library card than it did to enroll as a student. Unbelievable."
"Indeed."
"And you know what? I saw four people I knew, and they all cut me completely. Ya shoulda seen their faces when you pulled up." He laughed. "They're gonna be saying I was in rehab and you're my supplier by the time I get back there." He laughed again. "God, I--" he stopped dead and reddened. "So I've got a hundred and fifty thousand plus or minus. Questions, comments, anybody, anybody...Bueller?" He flickered a sideways glance at Ezra who was driving calmly, his eyes on the road and a tic pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Hey, are you laughing at me?"
"Absolutely not," Ezra said with a completely straight face.
"Liar," JD said cheerfully. "If you weren't driving I'd kiss you."
"I won't be driving forever."
"I guess I'll save it for later then."
"We're here." He pulled into a tiny entranceway and slid the car neatly into an impossibly small parking space. JD went to open the door and Ezra stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"I should warn you, some of my colleagues may show up here. They often stop by after work, usually in the evenings. I am hoping that as they do not know we are here, and lunch break is only, strictly speaking, an hour, and they rarely take that, that we will be safe."
"Are they going to be okay with, you know. Us." He gestured vaguely in a circle.
Ezra's face was wry. "I believe that they will be fine. However, their acceptance is often more perilous than their indifference." He paused and thought about it. "Is *always* more dangerous than their indifference, and very nearly as hazardous as their enmity."
"I'm gonna like these guys, aren't I?" He hated how insecure that made him sound, but Ezra's hand slid into his and squeezed.
"I don't know, darlin'. I hope so, but I do not care to predict the vagaries of personal interaction. I have not proved the expert that I thought myself to be."
"Do, do you mean us?" JD asked warily. "Because if y'are, I've gotta say your instincts are pretty damn good."
"Excuse me?"
"Well," he opened the car door, "You like *me*, don't you?" He slid out hastily enough that he didn't have to see his reaction. He was pretty sure it was okay. But sometimes he got people wrong.
"Idiot child," Ezra said softly, and slid out of the car himself. He looked around. There was no one in sight, and he pulled JD around the car towards him and snatched a quick kiss. "I guess you're okay," he drawled and walked into the bar, ignoring the spluttering sounds behind him.
"Señor Standish!" Inez smiled at him from behind the bar, and looked towards the door. "Are the others also coming?"
"No, just myself and a lunch companion."
Inez's face brightened into a knowing smile, "You have brought a friend! You must introduce us."
Ezra felt like crossing his eyes or some other equally childish display, but simply said, "John?" The boy came forwards, looking around with interest at the dark Latin style bar. "Inez, may I present to you my good friend John Dunne. John, Ms Inez Recillos."
"Señor Dunne," Inez held out a hand with a smile and the two shook over the counter.
"Miss Recillos," and John added shyly, "It's just JD, please, Miss Recillos, John isn't really me." He smiled at Ezra to take the sting out of his words, but Ezra wondered.
"And I am Inez, to my friends. I am sure we shall be friends, JD," she reached under the counter and handed them each a menu. "Please, take a seat. Señor Standish, I will bring you the wine menu--"
"No. I have to be in work, and John, JD has a number of things to do this afternoon. Mineral water for both of us, please." He glanced at John who merely nodded in acquiescence.
They peered at the menus in near silence, and when Inez returned, ordered a selection of tapas.
"Do you really mind 'John'?" Ezra asked quietly.
JD looked up, startled. "Not when you say it. I'm kinda getting used to it." He ducked his head. "I think I'd prefer everyone else to stick to JD though."
Ezra's breath caught, too noiselessly to be a gasp. 'John' was just for him. "I, why, thank you." He smiled slowly, and met John's eyes. He wondered if the boy saw in his face the kind of breathless wonder and excitement that he saw in his. He hoped not. His reputation as an undercover operative would be shot if anyone knew that with one look from a pair of merry hazel eyes he was lost.
He stared into John's eyes, not really noticing as they grew worried. It really had been just one look. Had he known, when he uttered those damnably callous words, 'I'll take one of those', that he was going to change his life so significantly that in two days he could barely recognize himself? Or had he simply had the luck of the gods on his side.
"Ez, you okay?"
"I wish you would not call me Ez, darlin'," he murmured, hypnotized by John's face.
"What do you want me to call you?" John asked pragmatically, and Ezra blinked.
"Your food, señores," Inez laid plate after plate on the table. "Enjoy!"
"I--I haven't really thought about it," he admitted. "Thank you Inez."
John's mouth quirked up in a half smile. "Let me know, okay, babe," he said in soft tones that carried no further than their little booth.
"Very well." Was it possible Josiah was right? He looked thoughtfully at the young man sitting across from him, tucking into some sort of eggplant fritter.
"This stuff is good, Ez, ra," he added belatedly. "Sorry."
Ezra sighed. "I think I may come to prefer Ez to *that* heinous appellation."
John nodded, then started laughing. He laughed so hard he began coughing, and Ezra poured a glass of water, and waved away Inez.
"John, John, are you all right?" He pushed the water up close and stepped around the booth to sit next to him. He patted tentatively at his back, gentling to a rubbing motion as John's coughing fit subsided. "What brought that on?"
"Nothing," John looked at him, mischief in his eyes and wiped away the tears from his face.
"John."
"Trust me, you don't want to know."
Ezra looked at him thoughtfully, then inclined his head. "I believe you."
"Besides, pop culture reference. It wouldn't've meant anything to you anyway." He chuckled again, and Ezra chose to not hear the muttered, "Ez-ra! Princess of Power!"
"I like this better," John said after they had been eating for a little while. He leaned against Ezra's side, worming his arm around his waist. "Mmm." He picked up an as yet unidentified piece of tapas, dipped it in what Ezra suspected to be jalapeno jelly and held it up to Ezra's lips. "'S good. Try it."
Ezra smiled suddenly, and delicately took the food from John's fingers, licking lightly at the tips of them before letting go and tasting the food. John's arm tightened around his waist. "That was good, here." He dipped some himself and offered it. John took it, biting very gently at his fingers. He swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably. His pants were abruptly too tight and an acute consciousness that the bar was not entirely empty did nothing to ease his state of mind.
"Ez?"
"John?"
"Ez." He stopped and looked around them as though seeing the place for the first time. "Ez, what's going to happen?"
"Happen? You will finish the tapas, and we will depart for our respective commitments."
"No. I meant." He stopped again, and his hand slipped from resting on Ezra's hip, discreetly under his jacket, to his waistband, then inside, fingers working until he found skin, and then settling, rubbing little circles on Ezra's lower back. "Here, eat this." He pushed another piece of tapas, something chicken and salsa related he thought, at Ezra's mouth. He obediently opened and ate.
"I meant, I dunno. What's going to happen tonight? What's going to happen after the year is up."
"Six months."
"Year."
"I was certain it was only--"
"It's a year. I'm sure." John looked grim. "I did make sure of what I was getting into before I signed up."
Ezra nodded. "What, in short, is going to become of 'us'? Is that what is troubling you?"
"I guess."
"Isn't it a little soon to--"
"I'm sorry."
"No." Ezra sighed and stared at the debris of the tapas. "It is a valid question. One which I myself have been wrestling with."
"Is that what's got you all twitchy?" John asked.
Ezra frowned. "I have not been 'twitchy'."
John grinned. "Sure you have. Twitch, twitch, twitch." With each word he drove his hand further into Ezra's pants until his fingers found his crack and pressed up on the last word.
Ezra jerked and became very still. "John," he said softly. "Please."
John pressed a careful finger inside him and he swallowed hard, shifting to allow him easier access.
"Shhh."
He whimpered as John's finger slid deep into him despite the awkward angle and the limiting confines of his pants. A hand moved at his crotch, and he glanced down to see the flicker of a pale hand undoing buttons under the table. He twisted slightly, pulling his jacket forward to conceal John's dangerously intoxicating hands. One of which now grasped his thickening shaft and eased it out of the slit of his boxers.
"Oh dear God," he breathed, and the moan in his throat was choked off almost before it had a chance to escape.
John turned in his seat and blew over Ezra's ear, licked it lightly, and blew again. Heat coiled in the pit of his stomach, and deep pleasure jolted his body as John's fingers worked in and out of his ass, stretching him, twisting and teasing against his sensitive anus. He let his head fall back against the cushioned back of the booth, deeply grateful for the support and the concealing dark of the dim bar. Cool air brushed over his cock, and then John's hand, slick with something gripped him, working him with strong, rough strokes that drove him over the edge in mere seconds. Instinctively he splayed his legs wide, trapping John's fingers under him, but letting his semen splatter harmlessly on the underside of the table, the floor and John's fingers.
A tiny cry escaped him, and he turned his head to bury it in John's neck, kissing and biting his way under the man's collar. He heard something like licking, and opened his eyes to see John lapping at his fingers, cleaning his come off.
"Let go of my fingers, babe," John murmured, tugging at his asshole, and Ezra unclamped the muscles that had tightened with his orgasm. John's fingers slid out, caressing him as they left him.
"Empty," he whispered involuntarily, and John lifted his face to kiss him softly, returning to taste his lips again and again.
"Me too, babe," John whispered back with a last kiss, and settled his hand in the small of Ezra's back. He wiped his other hand on a napkin and carefully tucked his cock away, buttoning him up and leaving him with a little pat that sent a frisson through his lethargic body.
"You are a bad influence," he murmured, and smiled. "A bad, bad influence."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," John grinned at him, and Ezra simply took in the dark hazel eyes, and the young face that seemed to grow more necessary to him every time he looked at it.
"Have you boys finished?" Inez appeared, a small smile on her face. They looked at her startled until she nodded at the emptied plates. "The food, señores. How was it?"
"Very good," Ezra said swiftly, "As ever, quite excellent."
"Yeah," John said with a smile. "Delicious."
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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.