Ezra repressed a scowl until it was just the tiniest twitch at the far edge of his jaw as the 'ping' of another email sounded from his computer. It could be legitimate.

It wasn't.

Yet another resort advising him of their 'inclusive' policies, complete with photograph of a pair of smiling women leaning against each other, both wearing white tuxedos and matching rings.

His eyes narrowed, and he ignored the snort that escaped Wilmington. The man didn't actually say a word, but his silence was nearly as innuendo laden as any comment that he was manfully repressing. He was vaguely surprised by his own lack of anger at the continuous teasing. Initially he'd felt edgy, uncertain of the intent behind the cheerful jibes and emails, but less and less so, as he realised there was no malice behind the teasing. And while admittedly annoying, it was also bizarrely comforting to discover that these men knew him well enough to recognize his mood even through his blandest expression.

Nonetheless, he was not going to comment, and he was definitely not going to let his traitorous sense of humor get the better of him. The last thing they needed was any kind of encouragement. He ducked his head behind his computer screen and allowed himself a tiny smile. If anyone saw it, he could pretend he was just pleased at something in the Lasater file.

It would even have the advantage of being almost true. With any luck he would get a breakthrough by the end of the day. All the signs boded well for Sukie McPherson rolling over on her former boyfriend; it was surely only a matter of time. He smirked a little. Of course, Lasater was not aware that she was a 'former' anything. Not yet. Hell had no fury like a woman scorned. And Sukie McPherson was not one to take infidelity with equanimity. The grin widened. If Mr. Lasater wanted to have his cake and eat it, he really should have kept both delightful females better hidden from each other.

Or perhaps more accurately, better hidden from a trio of agents with long range lenses and a slight disregard for the finer points of privacy law. Buck's surveillance skills were everything that a man with a secret to be exposed could want. Or not.

The photographs had been more than enough to stir Ms McPherson to a calculating fury this morning. A little pushing, a promise of immunity and a new identity should Mr. Lasater prove a more vicious man than they expected, and she had seriously wavered in her loyalty to the man. She hadn't given them what they wanted, not right then, but she had left with the photographs and a fulminating sense of betrayal.

He gave it two hours at the most. In the meantime.... The hundred or so extra emails in his inbox required his attention. The emails he had been disregarding all day, simply shifting them into the folder simply entitled 'Later'. Documentation on countries allowing gay marriage. Letter after advertisement after email from resorts promising the perfect honeymoon, the perfect wedding -- he was going to kill them.

That would certainly stop the damn sniggering.

Jackson was probably responsible for the excess of information about -- oh dear god. He closed the email, with pictures, and tried hard to think about cold things. Ice, snow, his mother's face... Cruel and unusual wielding of medical knowledge was clearly an unfair advantage.

Larabee was in on it too. The barely discernable shit-eating half smile which had greeted him when he had first arrived at the office this morning had been a neon sign declaring the man's amusement. Of course, at the time he hadn't known what he was amused about, just knew that, directed at him, it was an expression that could only mean trouble.

That was the first clue that his team mates had decided the best way to demonstrate their acceptance of himself and John was to pull his leg until it was in imminent peril of separating at the hip. That, and the half dozen emails addressed to Mr. C Larabee, at Ezra's email address.

Ezra paused, his finger hovering over delete, and instead transferred them to a subfolder: 'Later_CL'. There were a number of things in there already, and one day, sooner or later...

Ezra allowed an amused smile to twitch at his lips. "Ah. The jealousy of those experiencing the sting of loneliness," he murmured with pointed cruelty, and suddenly the eyes that had been half on him all day snapped back to their own work.

He pulled out the Lasater file and idly flipped through it. There was very little he could do until Sukie contacted him. The preparatory work was looking good, and all he needed was one last piece -- actual hard evidence to tie up the case and put Lasater away for a couple of years. He grimaced. It wasn't likely to be more than fifteen months, unless the man resisted arrest, but the government would get their pound of flesh. He brightened at the thought that the impounded liquor might possibly be available, and then shook his head. Someone would probably tip it all into the Denver waste filtration system, with nary a thought for the years of patient maturation.

He heard his agency issued cell phone chirp, and a shark's grin crossed his face for a moment. He dialed into the voice mail and found two messages, one from Sukie, Lasater's erstwhile girlfriend, and his contact into the business. And one from Lasater's favorite middleman, suggesting a meet for the following week. He scribbled down the details and carefully saved the messages. They too would be evidence.

He leaned back in his chair as he put the phone down, steepling his fingers and resting his feet on the desk, crossed at the ankle.

Buck was the first to break. "Well?"

He looked around and was well satisfied by the various looks of annoyance, amusement and impatience on his colleagues' faces.

"We are in business, gentlemen," he said smugly. "Ezekiel McKenzie will be meeting Mr. Lasater to discuss eight crates of fine French brandy next Thursday at ten, at a location to be arranged closer to the time." His smirk widened into a grin. "To avoid detection by 'adverse authorities'," he quoted.

"Gee, does that mean we ain't invited?" Buck asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

Vin grinned. "Guess we better not disappoint him, then," he said calmly.

"On the contrary, Mr. Tanner," Ezra shook his head. "I sincerely hope Mr. Lasater is *deeply* disappointed."

They laughed, and then the team bent their heads to their work once more, Ezra starting the work that would enable him to dictate the terms of the upcoming meeting. He spared a moment to be pleased that with the breakthrough contact made this early, he could almost certainly leave on time, or even a little early. John wouldn't be home till eight, he had said this morning. A little preparation time for him then. He smiled, and started making plans.

-------------------------

JD yawned as he pulled into the driveway. Late classes just sucked raw eggs. Ezra's car was already there, and he carefully leaned the Kawasaki towards the wall, well away from any possibility of the bike falling onto the Jag. He rolled his shoulders and flinched as the right one pulled. Too much writing hunched over a computer in an auditorium. He rummaged in his pockets for his keys and unlocked the door, then paused, looked at the key still in the lock, and smiled. Ezra had trusted him with so much stuff, but something about having his own key to his house left him feeling warm; wanted.

"Delightful though the finish is," JD jumped as Ezra's somewhat sardonic voice came over the intercom to his right, "I am sure that you would be even more appreciative of the inside of my humble abode."

JD grinned and opened the door. "Most people would just tell me to get inside already, but no, I get to be 'appreciative of his humble abode'," he mimicked softly.

"That, my friend, is an absolutely atrocious attempt at a Georgia accent. I beg you, desist." Ezra appeared from the lounge, and the sound of classical music followed him.

JD snickered and wrapped his arms around the slim waist. "Desist? You sound like one of those heroines in a Regency drama."

"And what," Ezra kissed him lightly, "pray tell, would you know, good sir, about Regency dramas?" He grinned mockingly at JD, who shrugged.

"Mom used to read 'em." He pulled away from Ezra and sighed when the man tugged him back, and gave him a quick hug. He laughed softly, "When she got so she couldn't read 'em, I'd read them to her." He met Ezra's eyes and smiled, a little painfully, at the memory. "Complete with bad southern accent."

Ezra's arms tightened around him, and he leaned in, resting his head against his shoulder.

"How was school?" Ezra asked quietly, after a while.

"Good. I'm not as far behind as I thought I was going to be."

"Good."

JD lifted his head and grinned at him, "I met an old friend."

"Really?"

"Mmm." JD tried hard to look casual.

"A good friend?"

JD nodded. "One of the best," he agreed, he couldn't help the glimmer of laughter as he remembered what Casey had said in that first unguarded moment when she had found out who his boyfriend was.

"Well, that's, ah, good." Ezra eyed him keenly, and added, "Whatever it is, you may as well say it. You are no kind of actor."

"She knows you too." Something flickered in Ezra's eyes, and JD wondered what was going through his head, but carried on. "It was so funny when I told her about you."

"Really," Ezra drawled, "who is this paragon?"

"Casey Wells."

Ezra blinked.

"She looked like a stuck pig when I told her," JD laughed, "Kinda like you look right now, actually." He pulled away and almost dodged the swat Ezra aimed at him.

"Impertinent brat," Ezra said. "I dread to think what the girl had to say about me."

JD smiled. "Depends on whether you were listening to her words or her meaning." He brushed a kiss over Ezra's cheek. "You're a good man, Ezra Standish."

"Please! There's no need for gratuitous insults," he protested, but JD saw the warm smile in his eyes, and ignored the words.

"How was your day?"

Ezra shrugged. "Filled with matters criminal and boring."

"Paperwork?"

"Preparation. We -- I trust you understand that I cannot tell you much?"

JD nodded. "I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

Ezra's smile warped, and he gently pointed out, "You just told someone who might as well have been a complete stranger that I was your boyfriend. In point of fact, you outed me to her, and anyone else who might have been listening."

"Oh. Oh shit!" JD was horrified, he hadn't even thought-- "I didn't think, I -- I'm sorry."

"That you didn't think is only too apparent," he replied with unexpected sharpness, and JD flinched.

"God, I'm sorry Ez, I just, I thought." He stopped and swallowed his words. "I'm so sorry, Ezra." He met Ezra's eyes squarely, and stopped, waiting.

Ezra shook his head and turned away. "I believe I mentioned that I did not find it advisable to have my personal life choices generally known."

"Yeah, well, kinda. But Ez, you never *said* don't tell anyone. And Casey's an old friend -- a good friend. And, well, I had to say *something* when she started insisting that I come home with her."

"I suppose merely saying you had a place to stay would not have sufficed?"

JD stared at him incredulously. "Have you *met* Nettie Wells?"

"A fair point, I suppose." Ezra looked at him, "but in future?"

"I'll keep shtumm." JD frowned. "Didn't anybody know?"

Ezra shrugged, "Not because I told them."

"Wasn't that kinda lonely?"

"I bought dinner home with me," Ezra ignored the question. "It will just require heating. In the oven, not the microwave, so it will be half an hour." He walked away into the kitchen, and by the time JD had removed his backpack and coat, Ezra had already started the food warming.

"Ez--" JD stopped; he had no idea what to say. "I promise I won't say anything."

Ezra shrugged again, and JD's lips tightened. He wasn't used to having people reject his apologies. And he hated having to make them, but Casey knew he was bi; she'd have drawn the correct conclusion the moment he said he was living with Ezra no matter whether he'd made it clear that they were sleeping together or not. In fact, he tried to remember exactly what was said. He was pretty sure he hadn't said anything, had simply not denied her conclusion. Not that that would make Ezra feel any better by the looks of things. He watched as the man pulled out china and cutlery and set the table, the two places kitty corner to each other.

"Would you get me the orange juice," Ezra said into the silence, and JD hurried to grab it from the fridge, and a couple of glasses from the cupboard. "Get whatever you want to drink." The fridge was full, a contrast to last week's near emptiness, and he hesitated before grabbing the milk jug and pouring himself a large glass. He added some chocolate syrup and stirred, trying not to hit the thin glass with the teaspoon after the first chime made Ezra close his eyes as though in pain.

JD frowned. "Ez?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, John?" The man sounded worn out, and JD could have kicked himself.

"Are you okay?"

Ezra smiled at him, but there was no real enthusiasm in it. "I'm fine."

"Cause you look like you've got a headache or something."

"I said I'm fine."

"Okay. Cause if you want some Tylenol or something, just say."

"If I should need any analgesic, I assure you I shall have no hesitation in taking the required medication," Ezra said sharply and JD put his hands up.

"Fine. Whatever. Look, I'm gonna put my stuff away, okay, check my emails or something." Keep out of your way, he thought, but didn't say. "Jeez, take a chill pill, dude," he muttered as he stalked out of the kitchen. "Sorry for *caring*."

Ten minutes later he'd already forgotten about the argument, immersed in catching up with a flaming argument on one of the biking lists about the right terms for parts of a particular machine. He was torn between deleting the lot, and reading. He opened the next one and shook his head at the steamed reply to the previous email. "Oh, now, that's just not right," he exclaimed, "Godwin's law, lady, you lose."

"JD?"

"Hey, Ezra. Some people are such idiots."

"I hear that," Ezra's voice was dry enough that JD looked up at him.

"Hey, I didn't mean you."

"I know."

"I didn't mean me either," he added with an apologetic smile, "but I should have. I'm sorry Ez. I can call her and ask her not to say anything."

"It can wait," Ezra said peaceably. "I overreacted."

"No, you didn't. It didn't even occur to me that you weren't out. I mean, the guys all seemed to know--"

"Only because I forgot myself and made it clear when on the phone to you."

"Oh." It was with some difficulty JD asked, "Would you rather they hadn't found out?" He wanted to ask, and didn't quite dare ask if Ezra was ashamed of him, ashamed of being queer.

"It is of no moment what I would prefer. The fact is that--" he stopped and took a deep breath. For the first time since the moment they had first met, JD saw the man's iron self-confidence waver. "The fact remains that they do know. As does Miss Wells, and in all probability Mrs. Wells is now also cognizant of my tendencies."

There was a long silence. JD couldn't think of anything to make this right, except... "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" Ezra said sharply. "I am merely having some, some difficulties in accustoming myself to the thought that perhaps it is-- that I can allow them to--"

"That you can be out and the world won't fall in on you?" JD asked quietly, and stood, reaching for his hands. They were cold and he held them securely, hoping the warmth of his own would relax the tension he felt in them. "My Mom figured it out before I did. Did I tell you that?"

"No."

JD smiled ruefully. "I panicked when I threw my first boner for one of the jocks at high school. I was thirteen, he was seventeen, and we were in the same math class." He grimaced, "Which didn't help matters of course."

"I wouldn't be thirteen again for all the money in the world," Ezra said with cautious sympathy and JD nodded.

"Me neither. I panicked for weeks about what I was going to do. Dreaming was okay. And not wanting to hang out with girls, that was okay too. But that--"

"That made it real."

"Yeah. Mom kept asking me if there was something wrong, and in the end I told her. Actually I shouted it at her. Told her she wouldn't be getting any grandchildren because I was a fag." JD paused, then smiled, "And all she said was, 'Don't be crude. And besides, there's always adoption, darling.'"

Ezra chuffed a faint laugh. "My mother told me to keep my mouth shut and never mention it again. I think she thought it was a phase I would grow out of. Eventually she gave up on that, and decided to try to manipulate me using it." His face hardened and became distant. "And when that backfired, she decided to apologise by turning into the yenta from hell."

"What did she do?"

Ezra shook his head. "I have no intention of reliving that sordid experience. Suffice it to say that when she was arrested for hate crimes and inciting hate crimes, I did not post bail."

"Jesus, Ez," JD dragged Ezra into an impulsive hug. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ezra sounded strange. "I think I will probably survive the experience. As long as my co-workers desist from their current amusements, that is."

"What did they do to you?" JD asked fiercely, tightening his arms around Ezra, "Ez, if they--"

Ezra was shaking and for a horrible moment JD thought that his lover was crying, until he heard the chuckles escaping him.

"I have been sent a fine collection of honeymoon destinations catering to the proclivities of people like ourselves."

"What?"

"And some fascinating documentation on locales that offer gay marriages."

"What?!"

"And some rather entertainin' literature on the positions possible for those able to avail themselves of two penises in a relationship."

"You're kidding."

"I am not." Ezra leaned back and grinned into JD's stunned eyes. "I must admit I believe I underestimated my colleagues."

"So, you don't mind that I outed you?"

"I believe I will get used to the idea. However--"

"I know. I won't tell anyone else." He hesitated. "I mentioned to the Dean that I had a boyfriend in the ATF."

"And what did he say to that?"

"That I should tell Morgan to get his still off campus."

"I think I shall pretend I did *not* hear you tell an agent of the department for *Alcohol*, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives that you know the location of an illegal still."

"Oops," JD laughed. "I don't care if you do shake him down. Morgan's a homophobic prick."

"Would you *like* me to hear that statement?" Ezra said seriously.

JD hesitated, then shook his head. "Nah. He's just a student. There's probably hundreds of kids like him, brewing up in the basement. Besides, he'll be graduating in a few months, and I won't have to put up with his shit any more."

"What kind of shit?"

"It's nothing. Just stupid, ignorant name calling." JD shrugged. "I can live with that."

"You shouldn't have to." Ezra told him flatly. "Anytime you want to dispose of him, just let me know."

JD pressed a fond kiss to his lips. "Thank you. But I don't need my big, bad boyfriend fighting my battles for me."

"Big, bad boyfriend?"

JD waggled his eyebrows and slid a hand down and round, to squeeze him meaningfully. "Big enough for my purposes."

"I came in to tell you dinner was ready," Ezra pushed against him lazily.

JD widened his eyes and made his lower lip tremble. "You mean I have to wait for the make up sex?"

"Patience is, after all, a virtue, you repulsive brat," and he slapped JD on the ass, "the sooner we eat, though, the sooner--"

"Got you! Come on!" JD turned him and pushed him towards the kitchen, both of them shoving each other cheerfully as they went.

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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.