Sunlight pulled at JD's eyelids, and he rolled away from it, landing tight up against a warm, naked body. He made a small, appreciative noise, and, eyes still closed, rubbed his face against Ezra's nape. He was warm and comfortable, and content. Ezra's ass fitted neatly against his hips, and he crooked his knees, shifting until he was plastered against Ezra's full length. As he draped his arm over Ezra's narrow waist a hand grasped his, fingers intertwined. He smiled to himself and pressed his lips to Ez's shoulder blade, vaguely wondering what time it was. He slitted one eye open to look at the clock, and then was sitting bolt upright, shaking Ezra's arm.

"Fuck! Ez! Eight o'clock! Up an' at 'em!" He bolted for the bathroom; his first class was at nine, Ez was due in by eight thirty, and neither of them were going to be on time. Behind him he heard the disjointed muttering that suggested that Ezra had woken, but hadn't caught up with events. Then Ezra zipped past him into the shower. JD finished with his teeth and sniffed at himself cautiously. Shower it was. Regular sex had at least one disadvantage then. He grinned. He was pretty sure he could put up with the trade-off.

He dived in next to Ezra, stealing the shower gel out of his hands and squirting a large handful out. The shower was far too small for both of them and they rubbed up against each other as they tried to wash, all painful elbows and vulnerable ribs.

"This," JD ducked under the shower head and rinsed out his hair, much to Ezra's annoyance, who was still trying to sluice bubbles off his butt, "could be a lot more fun than it is." He pecked a kiss on Ezra's disgruntled nose.

"Hold that thought." Ezra winked, and then shoved him out of the way, hogging the water to himself. "Are you done? Get out then and let me finish." He grabbed his razor from the rack hanging in the shower and carefully started to remove his stubble.

JD simply ran a hand over Ezra's ass possessively and slid out before Ezra could do more than wave the straight-edge threateningly in his direction.

He dried off rapidly and dragged on the previous day's jeans -- really, too old and worn to leave the house, but it was all he had to hand. A long sleeved tee and sweater completed the clothing, and he was rummaging desperately for a pair of socks in the same color -- he had given up on finding actual pairs years before. His hair was still damp on the back of his neck and he rubbed at it, then caught the time on the bedside clock and fled for the kitchen.

He might have time for breakfast. He put the coffee on for Ez, and sliced a huge wedge of bread off of the loaf in the bread basket, folded it over a piece of ham and a slab of cheese and stuffed as much as he could into his mouth while pulling on his boots. It was already too late for Ezra, but he might still have a chance -- he still had fifty minutes to get onto campus, and the drive took about an hour if he took it easy.

Ezra appeared nearly seven minutes later looking dapper as ever except for one missing shoe.

"John, have you seen--"

"Living room?"

"Tried there."

JD frowned and tried to remember. "You were wearing them yesterday?"

Ezra nodded, and took a quick gulp of the coffee JD handed him. JD swallowed another mouthful of sandwich and headed into the living room. He walked behind the couch and lifted it up.

"Thank you!" Ezra crouched and grabbed his shoe from where it had become wedged under the couch. He pulled it on, and hurried for the door. He tipped the mug back, draining the last of it, and abandoned the mug on the coffee table. "Thanks, kid," he smiled. "You need a ride today?" He held the front door for him and then locked it behind them.

JD shook his head as he hastily zipped up his bomber jacket. "Nah. Make better time separately." He hooked his helmet on the handlebar of the bike, and settled his backpack securely over his shoulders. The car and motorcycle were parked side by side, and Ezra had to shuffle carefully past the Kawasaki to reach the driver side door of the Jag.

"Agreed." He unlocked the door and stopped before he got inside. "Drive carefully?"

JD stopped as he was about to pull his helmet over his head and leaned over to kiss him. "You too, okay? No getting shot or stuff." He checked the bike over quickly, then settled himself.

Ezra grinned lop-sidedly. "I do not get shot. I am the cause of getting shot in others."

"Whatever. And don't get stopped by the state patrol, you'll be later'n you are already!"

Ezra smirked and slid into the car. "As if they could catch this jewel among cars," he called back. Any further comments were drowned as the two engines turned over. JD pulled on his helmet and pulled out ahead of Ezra. They paced each other for a while, but the later hour meant heavier traffic, and JD was soon far ahead of Ezra, weaving in and out of the busy rush hour.

JD concentrated on the traffic. He liked leaving earlier or later, hated trying to get his vulnerable bike through the oblivious suburban commuters. One man cut in front of him and damn near clipped him, forcing JD to weave dangerously away into the next lane. It was sheer luck that there was enough space for him. JD swore and slapped his hand against the man's door as he passed him. "Wake up," he growled. The man apparently took offence at someone touching his car and crowded JD until he simply slid around the SUV and kept moving, until the reckless idiot was a distant blob merged with the rest of the slowing vehicles caught in the morning deluge pouring into Denver. He squeaked through an opening, and made his turn into the road leading down to the university. He might make his class, he thought hopefully.

Fifteen minutes later JD checked his watch and swore, scrambling off his bike with more speed than grace. He had exactly three minutes to get from the parking lot to the classroom. He ran flat out, and then went flying when someone, he glanced back and found Morgan staring absently in the other direction and knew instantly who, had tripped him up. His knees stung, and he scrambled up the steps, hoping that his helmet and computer hadn't been damaged.

He slid around the corner and pushed open the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Dr. Rosomon hadn't arrived yet. He found a chair and let his thumping heart slow down. He wondered how Ezra was faring.

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

"Glad you could make it, Standish," Chris Larabee was standing by Ezra's desk, his arms folded. "When you can spare a moment I'd like to see you in my office."

"No problem," he smiled as best he could, still out of breath from sprinting to the elevator from the car. In the background Buck had jerked his tie around, holding it by the end as though hanging himself, his head drooping and his tongue hanging out. Vin winked at him. Nathan was nowhere in sight, but his momentary hope that he was not the last man in was defeated half born when he noticed the driving shoes under Jackson's chair, and the missing work shoes.

"Good night out, Ez?" Buck asked with a big grin. "Or should that be, big night in?"

"Nothing of the sort. The alarm clock failed to wake us, and we overslept."

Buck waggled his eyebrows. "All wore out."

Ezra ignored him, and applied himself to logging on, gathering folders and steeling himself for the deeply unpleasant encounter that was no doubt going to ensue the moment he walked into Mr. Larabee's office.

"How's the kid?" Buck tried again.

"Why not ask him yourself," Ezra said sharply, then calmed himself. "I have a meeting with our short-tempered leader."

"So, when did you leave?" Vin asked lazily. He grinned at Ezra's narrowed eyes.

Ezra looked coolly back. "I believe we woke at approximately eight am."

All eyes turned to the clock and back to Ezra.

"It's only eight forty right now," Vin pointed out.

"Thank you, yes, I am aware of the time. Speaking of which I should go and--" He headed for Chris's office.

"We going to get one of those calls from the DPD again, Ezra?" Josiah asked curiously and Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but no. Now, if you'll excuse me?" He squared his shoulders, squared his documents, and knocked on Larabee's door.

"Come in."

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

Eleven already. JD grabbed his stuff and sprinted for the men's room. Somehow he'd forgotten to pee before he got into class. He sighed with relief, and then washed his hands. He had about an hour before a one hour session on topologies, which he already knew. Maybe he could get himself some lunch instead.

He was heading to the student cafeteria when his cell phone started vibrating in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the phone number displayed on the tiny little screen with some puzzlement. Only Ezra and Casey had his number, as far as he knew, so who the hell could be calling him? He shrugged and answered.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey kid! How are you?"

He vaguely recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, kid, can you hear me?" There was a sharp rapping sound in JD's ear and he winced.

"I can hear you!" he said urgently, and switched the phone to his other ear.

"It's Buck, Buck Wilmington." The man's voice drawled softly, right in his ear, and he grimaced. Him. The man carried straight on, cheerfully, as though he couldn't imagine that JD wasn't pleased to hear from him. "You remember me? From the poker night at Ez's place the other night."

"Uh, sure. I remember you." Try as he might he couldn't quite keep the emphasis off of 'you'.

"Sure you remember!" Wilmington said happily, "Don't rightly see how you'd forget."

JD couldn't quite see how he'd forget someone who near as dammit called his lover a pedophile, either. On the other hand, the guy meant well. Maybe he wasn't giving the man enough credit. On the other, other hand, the man had been a complete pain in the ass that night. He grinned to himself, three hands already and it ain't yet noon.

"Yeah," JD agreed shortly. Buck huffed a sigh and spoke again in a voice so soft JD had to strain to hear it.

"Look, kid, I ain't sayin' sorry again. Done is done. But we got off on the wrong foot, and I'd maybe like to change that if I can?"

"I--"

"So I was thinking that I could buy you lunch, poor starving student, probably glad of a --" he coughed and stopped, "Sorry, yeah, so, there's this little place I know, very quiet at lunchtime, pretty happening in the evenings, some of the waitresses are pretty easy on the eye, if you know what I -- oh, ah, well, you wouldn't be interested in that, right? Kid?" He seemed to belatedly realize that he was the only one participating in the conversation.

"I'm here!" JD said hastily, forestalling another sequence of thumps applied to Wilmington's phone. "I could do lunch." If I have to. The thought crossed his mind that Wilmington worked with Ez; where Ezra was discreet and silent, Wilmington was loud and garrulous. Maybe he could find out-- "Yeah, why not? When, where?"

"Okay then. Today? Tomorrow? One? I can pick you up if--"

"I can find it!" he said, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended. "Just tell me where and I'll be there."

"Sure, sure. Ah, the place I was thinking of is Recillos' Wine Bar, I can give you directions--"

"That's fine, I know it."

"Do you now?" Wilmington sounded put out. "Guess Ez took you there."

"Something like that." Really it was more me taking him, but you know, TMI, he reflected with a smirk that he could only be grateful that Wilmington couldn't see. And if he remembered rightly there was something about Buck and this place anyway. Free food, possible information, and a floor show too. This was sounding better by the moment. He grinned wickedly. "Tomorrow's better than today."

"Fine, I'll --oh. No, that's no good, got a bust, how about the day after?"

"I can do today if you want. Or day after tomorrow. Whatever."

"Friday then."

"Friday. It's a date," JD added.

"Uh, sure," Wilmington agreed doubtfully. "Only not a date date. Because, well, you know, you'n'Ezra, an' me not into that sort of-- and --"

JD laughed as Buck stumbled between the rock of giving offence, and the hard place of preserving his manly, heterosexual integrity.

"Bastard," Buck growled, no real venom in his voice.

"Takes one to know one," he said cheerfully. "Seeya Friday, at Inez' place, around one."

"Take care, boy," Buck said in farewell.

"You too." He hung up and stared at the phone for nearly a minute. One had been happenstance. Two was just coincidence. Three would be enemy action. He smiled and shrugged off the niggling anxiety that said no one would want to get to know him without an ulterior motive. Ezra had paid half a million for the pleasure of his company. He was a nice guy. They were nice guys. Why wouldn't someone want to get to know him?

Especially when, that niggling little voice insisted on being heard, they work for the FBI or ATF or whatever, and you're their colleague's queer boyfriend. Yeah, people really put themselves out to do that kind of thing. To meet a scrawny, boring, over-educated loner. Yeah. Right.

I wonder why Ezra picked me?

A moment later he shrugged and headed into his next lab. He really needed to stop reading those conspiracy websites.

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

Ezra emerged from Chris's office with a smug grin on his face and considerably less paperwork than he had gone in with. Most of it was now in Larabee's capable hands, even if that gentleman wasn't entirely clear on how or why that should be the case.

Vin's eyes held banked amusement, as he murmured, "...four... three... two..."

Right on cue, Larabee's voice erupted. "Standish!"

Ezra picked up his pace and left the office for the quietness of one of the small meeting rooms. Not fleeing exactly. Just, not being present during any potential contretemps.

He spread his paperwork out and sighed contentedly. Larabee had approved his request to review the Lasater bust. Josiah was probably going to freak, but something was bothering him about the deal. It was like trying to find that one loose end that you knew was hanging off your suit, but couldn't, quite, see or reach. He frowned as he stared at nothing, his mind turning over scenarios, and then he quirked a small grin and started writing.

This could work.

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

JD balanced a pile of books on one knee while trying to pull another one from the bottom of his backpack, and not dropping his helmet or laptop, which was dangling precariously half in and half out of the bag.

"Mr. Dunne?"

He startled and whirled, dropping books everywhere. The bag fell too, and it was only a reflexive snatch that saved the laptop from following it.

"Shit." He looked up and found the head of his department looking at him with an expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement on his face. "Sorry, Professor Sanders." He looked at the books, and decided to pick them up after the dean was done with him.

He hastily shoved the bag, laptop and helmet into his locker and forced it closed. He turned back to face them in time to catch Sanders scowling at his ancient, ripped jeans, and the man standing with him eying him with an uncomfortable intensity. He had a strong suspicion that had he looked up a second sooner he'd've caught those dark, predatory eyes on his ass. Abruptly he regretted dragging on his oldest, most comfortable jeans this morning. But he'd been in a hell of a hurry, and his butt had ached something fierce, too much to tolerate anything harsher than the butter soft denim, no matter that they were too tight for underwear, and too torn to wear anywhere but school and home. And judging by the look on Professor Sanders' face, he might want to consider retiring them from anything but around the house.

"Don't worry about it. Mr. Dunne, I'd like you to meet Jake Torrence." He turned his head towards a distinguished looking man perhaps sixty years of age. He was lean, with strong features, a hooked nose and hawklike black eyes that pinned JD with an assessing gaze. JD felt like a mouse being eyed up for edibility, and straightened his spine, meeting the man's look defiantly.

"Mr. Torrence," he nodded. He shook hands with the man, ignoring the way the grip lingered a little too long, and the way the man's thumb slid unseen across his palm in a deliberate caress. He folded his arms and tucked his hands under them, surreptitiously rubbing the right one clean.

"Mr. Dunne." The man's accent was clipped and clean, the kind of generic American that no one but newsreaders really spoke in.

"Mr. Torrence is contributing a exceptionally generous donation to this department, and expressed a particular interest in your work, when we were discussing the future of computing." Sanders smiled warmly at JD, who smiled warily back.

"Really?" he said with doubtful enthusiasm. "Not many people ever ask about my stuff. It's all kinda boring and theoretical at the moment."

"You're too modest, Mr. Dunne," Torrence smiled at him, but JD caught an edge of cold calculation in the man's expression. "I have some ideas about the commercial applications for--"

JD interrupted, "I'm really sorry, sir, but I'd rather not discuss anything like that? My work is still experimental, and I have some ideas of my own that I don't want to contaminate with other people's stuff, if you don't mind."

Torrence's eyebrows lifted momentarily, and then settled, and he grinned at JD. "I guess I can appreciate that." His whole demeanor was suddenly friendlier. "Maybe you could tell me a little about your work over coffee?" He raised a hand before JD could refuse, "With the proviso that it is all experimental and confidential?"

JD could see the professor smiling in a meaningful manner at him, and suppressed a sigh. "No problem, sir."

"Don't worry about missing class, JD." Professor Sanders patted him on the back and smiled again, toothily. "I'll let your tutor know."

JD gritted his teeth and smiled politely at Torrence.

"So, JD -- I may call you JD?"

"Sure, Jake," JD said calmly, and flinched at the flash of annoyance in the man's face.

"Of course," he agreed with less good humor. "Tell me something about yourself."

JD shrugged. "I'm a grad student in the math department of Denver U. I'm hoping to finish my doctoral dissertation in about a year or so. What's your interest in the department?" he asked bluntly.

Torrence looked at him oddly, and said, "I seem to be investing some money in a project that it has going. I wanted to know more. Have you been here since you started at university?"

JD blinked at the change of subject, but nodded, "Yeah, mostly. Started when I was fourteen, and stayed here pretty much right through. I went abroad for a couple of years to study, but I like it better here." He grinned cheerfully. "It's a great place."

"Abroad?"

JD found himself talking about his two years at Imperial, then the three years of his PhD, and then somehow he was talking about his mother. He stopped himself dead, and apologized.

"I'm sorry, you wanted to know about my work, not my Mom," he shook his head at himself.

"She sounds like a delightful lady."

JD nodded, "Oh, she was. She loved that I went to university, I was the first person that she knew of in her family to go. She could have gone herself, only she had me, and that kind of--" he looked embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I'm doing it again -- I'll stop now."

Torrence merely smiled. "I am always interested in young people," he said softly, and JD edged away from him slightly, wishing he hadn't said as much as he had. "I take it that your mother has passed away?"

JD ducked his head and nodded wordlessly. The last thing he needed was to start sharing his emotions as well as his life story with some industrialist and big bucks benefactor of the university. Particularly one who looked at him with such a coolly assessing air.

"I'm sorry," the man said with perfunctory sympathy.

"Thank you. But it was a mercy." It wasn't. Couldn't ever have been, but it would shut him up.

"So, what are you studying now?" The man changed the subject and JD seized on the change with alacrity.

He straightened, and launched into a spiel about his software designs, without going into any details. He'd already learned that lesson from a so called friend who was now living large on the proceeds of one of the ideas JD had discussed with him, but not had the time or money to follow up.

"There are some companies doing something like you describe," Torrence said thoughtfully. "Domestic appliances -- intelligent cleaning."

"Yeah. It's interesting stuff, but fundamentally flawed, in my opinion." JD dismissed a multi-million dollar industry with a shrug and missed the amusement in Torrence's eyes.

"Fascinating." He smiled at JD and patted him on the shoulder. JD flinched away and moved out of range. "I'm delighted to talk to a young man who has managed to do so much with his life. I imagine your mother would be very proud of you."

JD's jaw tightened and he reddened with shame. She would have been horrified that he had resorted to prostituting himself to pay her bills. He could forget about it when he was with Ezra, but any time he thought of her, he knew how badly she would have been hurt, and how unhappy at his choice. She had always insisted there were choices; this time he had taken the easy one.

"I know she was very proud of my school work," was all he said, quietly, and hoping that the rush of blood to his face would be dismissed as embarrassment at the compliment. It must have worked, as Torrence merely nodded politely.

"Of course. Well, JD, it's been a pleasure to meet you." The man held out his hand and they shook firmly. "I expect I will be hearing more of you in the future." He nodded and turned away towards the exit.

"Thank you sir." He glanced back at the closed door to Professor Sanders' office. "Um. Was the Professor expecting you back?"

Torrence quirked a disdainful eyebrow at him. "No. No, I don't think so." He drew a quick breath then stopped. "My regards to Mr. Standish. Remember me to him. And his lovely mother," he added as a seeming afterthought.

"How did you--" But the man simply turned on his heel and never looked back, leaving JD staring after him. He shook himself and headed back to his locker. The contents tried to fall out in a hideous mess when he opened it, and only quick reflexes saved the helmet from going flying.

"Shit!" He carefully pulled everything out and started repacking it, organizing his books for the day into his backpack, and the rest of it into neat heaps on the locker shelves. He paused as he slid his folder of probability notes alongside the stack of books, and frowned, eyes unfocused.

"Well, that was strange," he said quietly. "And kinda creepy." He shivered, then finished up. "What the hell did he mean about Ez?" He paused, lifting his head in sudden awareness. "I never said a word about Ez. And the professor doesn't know his name. I just said 'ATF'." He stared after Torrence. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Torrence had looked at him the way some of those people back at Donna's auction had; like he was meat on a rack, to be assessed for quality, value for money and edibility. The ones he had desperately hoped wouldn't be interested in him. He swallowed. Their eyes had smeared over him, knowing that they were better than he was, that they could, and maybe would, buy and sell him without any interest in how he felt about it. Turning him into a commodity, not a person. He swallowed dryly. He was reading far too much into it. Maybe the guy just liked boys. And it wasn't as if he'd been anything but polite. Not even touching him. Not really. And besides, he was a benefactor to the department. Just because he got the wiggins off the man was no reason to start making him into something he wasn't. By the time he finished he decided to check with the professor's secretary, and pass on Torrence's apologies that way, rather than trouble the man in person.

He was walking down to her office when he met Sanders in the corridor.

"Ah, JD! Has our guest left?" Sanders peered over JD's shoulder as though expecting the man to pop up from around the corner.

"Yes, sir." He hesitated a second, then blurted out, "What did he want, Professor?"

Sanders shook his head. "Between you and me, I have no idea what his interest in the place is. I did wonder maybe if you knew him from somewhere?"

"Me, Professor? No." JD shook his head, confused.

"Ah. Odd."

"Professor?" JD hurried to catch up as the professor started moving back to his office.

"Well, he asked for you by name. Was quite interested in you as a matter of fact." Sanders glanced at him, and abruptly JD was aware of the fierce intelligence that had taken the man to the position of head of the math department, before he was forty. "If he has any suggestions about meeting you privately, or asks you to do anything you feel uncomfortable with, do not feel obliged to play along. We are not a poor department, and while sponsorship is always pleasant it is not always worth the price demanded."

JD nodded. "No, sir. I mean, yes, I understand sir." And, looking into Sanders' eyes, he wondered how much, in turn, the professor understood.

"Hmm." He paused outside his office. "JD, if there is anything troubling you... Please, don't make any rash decisions. And if you get into difficulties, my door is always open."

JD smiled. "Thank you, sir. I've got some good friends looking out for me these days."

"Your ATF boyfriend?" His eyebrows lifted with amusement.

JD grinned back, pleased that he'd remembered. "Not just him, but yeah." He blushed as he said it, and couldn't stop smiling at the thought of Ezra, his boyfriend. It sounded so normal.

Sanders laughed, "Well, then, we will all be on our best behavior." He grinned at JD and suddenly looked more like a fellow student than a responsible professor. "Try not to cause too much mayhem with the liquor raids."

JD snickered. "No raids, professor," he promised recklessly, and Sanders chuckled.

"On another subject," Sanders turned and started walking towards the main seminar room, "Professor Rosomon was speaking to me about seeing if we could find a place for you as his teaching assistant."

JD blinked. "Wow. Really? But I've only been back like, five minutes."

"I think you'll find it has been rather more like two weeks," the professor said dryly, "And as Professor Rosomon pointed out, you would have been a TA long ago had it not been for your family circumstances."

"Oh."

"I mention it because I believe you may want to consider the offer carefully, Mr. Dunne. For one thing, do you have any plans once you have your doctorate?"

"Well, sir, um, no. Not really. I kinda thought I'd like to stay on, keep doing pure research."

"Well, that will undoubtedly require a certain amount of teaching hours. Perhaps it would be a good opportunity to start finding how you cope with a teaching load. And of course, I imagine the stipend will be welcome too. It's not much, but it always helps."

"Yes sir," JD said with some dismay. "I suppose it will." Just when he discovered he didn't need to work, he got handed his dream job on a plate. Now wasn't that just fucking typical?

Sanders smiled gently at him. "Now, off you go. Your next class is in five minutes I believe."

JD blinked, but the door was already closing behind Sanders. "How does he do that?" he mumbled to himself, and trotted off to enjoy an hour or so of probability theory.

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

"I wonder if you have any tickets available for tonight's performance? No? Thank you. I shall contact them. The number?" Ezra wrote yet another telephone number down and sighed. "No, no, thank you. Goodbye."

His shoulders dropped momentarily. That was the fifth ticket agent. The performance tonight was sold out. He had gone from thinking he might check availability, to being absolutely determined that he was going to get hold of tickets. JD would like it. Well, he, Ezra, would like it, and JD needed to get out. They hadn't been on a single date, unless you counted the lunch at Inez' bar last week. He let his mind drift back to that particular lunch.

Okay, he'd count that as their first date.

A tiny smile appeared on his lips and he carefully marked one year onwards in his calendar, just in case, he told himself. His smile widened.

He'd take his beautiful partner out properly, dinner and a show. Yes.

He thought of seeing the kid in a suit, and his smile turned amused even as his mouth dried at the mental image. JD in a suit. Did the boy even possess such a thing? He'd have to arrange some proper evening wear for him. Something appropriate to his new found wealth. Maybe he could pick up something for himself as well.

Maybe tomorrow morning they'd wake up early enough to shower together.

He looked down at the phone number scribbled on his notepad, and dialed again.

"Yes, good afternoon. I'm interested in obtaining two tickets for tonight's Don Quixote..."

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

He was fathoms deep in code, trying to locate a stray glitch that was causing some discrepancies in his predicted results, when someone's cellphone rang. He looked up and grinned to see students all around reach for bags, pockets and purses, fish out their phones and then put them away with a shrug. He turned back to the pc, and then remembered that he had a phone too. He managed to drag it out of his pocket just in time for the ring to cut out, and a message: "one missed call" to appear on the screen.

"Shit," he muttered, ducking his head and feeling a red flush creep across his face at the glares from his fellow students. He shut down his laptop and gathered his things hastily, then quickly made his way out of the quiet study area of the science library. He prodded the phone as he walked until it finally condescended to tell him that he had missed a call from Ezra's cell.

"Shit!"

He pressed the button to call back, with a smile.

"Standish."

"Did you just call me?"

"I may have done," Ezra's voice teased lightly.

"Anything in particular?"

"I was wondering if you had any plans for this evening."

"No," JD shook his head even though Ezra couldn't see the gesture. "What's up?"

"I have a couple of tickets to Don Quixote, for seven thirty."

"Sounds good," he hesitated, and asked, "am I going to have to dress up?"

"What are you wearing?"

JD sniggered, "Weeeell--"

"Keep it clean, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said dryly, and JD could hear someone's laughing voice in the background asking how much the phone call was costing, and should it be allowed on government property. "Thank you, Mr. Wilmington, I am merely ascertaining whether John is attired suitably for a night at the ballet."

"Ballet!" JD squeaked, then blushed scarlet as half a dozen people glared at him. "Ballet?" he repeated in a whisper, and made tracks for the exit.

"The tickets were a last minute offer by an old friend," Ezra said, dry amusement lacing his tone over the raucous laughter in the background. "I thought you might enjoy an evening out, we could have dinner together, and later explore some of the culture that this city has to offer."

"Well, but, Ez, come on, ballet? Isn't that like every gay cliche rolled into one?"

Ezra sighed. "No, it is not. Have you ever actually been to a ballet?"

"Well, no... but--"

"Then do not comment on something you know nothing about. That applies to you too, Mr. Wilmington."

"I ain't dressing up just to watch people bouncing around a stage, mooning at each other in tights." He found a wall outside the library to perch on and slung his bag up first, then swung himself up.

"What a --delightful-- summation of your knowledge of the performing arts, John. You don't have to dress up, just clean and neat would do."

"Ah, well, I -- "

"I forgot. How could I forget?" Ezra asked resignedly. "You wore those jeans, didn't you?" He sighed. "If there was ever an occasion to which they were least suited, this is it. So naturally you are wearing skin tight jeans so old the fabric has frayed through in half a dozen places."

"All the right places, Ez," JD said softly. Ezra made no reply for a long moment.

In the background, JD could hear Wilmington again, "Keep it clean, boys!"

When he spoke again, Ezra sounded husky, and JD smirked, turning his head to hide his expression from passers-by. "You, sir, are asking for trouble."

"I never ask for anything I don't want," JD said softly, and this time he could actually hear Ezra swallow, trying to compose himself.

"I suppose a shopping expedition is out of the question? Apply a little retail therapy to your unfortunate attire?"

"I guess I could wander down to Gap or something." Ezra groaned, and JD had a happy thought, "You could come too. I might need some help, you know, picking out something ... suitable."

"Because you couldn't possibly go shopping on your own." Ezra said sarcastically, and JD laughed.

"Well, sure, if you want to leave it to me to pick out the outfit--"

"On the other hand," Ezra changed his tune smoothly, "I believe it might behoove me to ensure you do not end up dressing yourself like a refugee from the grunge nation."

"'Behoove' you?"

"I'll see you in an hour?"

"Works for me." JD hastily reviewed his timetable, and discovered nothing he couldn't make up. There were distinct advantages to being very nearly ABD.

"In front of the mathematics building. That is where you are today, correct?"

"Mostly."

"Mostly? Does that mean parts of you are elsewhere?" Ezra asked, amusement in his voice.

"If you really want to know where my mind is, Ez..." JD dropped his voice and went for sultry, with mixed success. He choked and had to cough to clear his voice.

"I have a fairly good idea already, thank you, Mr. Dunne," Ezra told him firmly. "Further elaboration at this stage is not required."

"I'm at the library, but I'm heading over to the department about now anyway."

"I am becoming entirely too well acquainted with your timetable."

"You're just jealous of my leisurely student lifestyle."

"I won't even dignify that with a response," Ezra said smartly, and JD grinned again.

"Seeya in fifty-seven minutes then."

"Indeed."

JD hesitated, and Ezra cut the line before he could. An hour gave him some time to pack up, dump some stuff in his locker. Maybe even grab a shower over at the gym. Maybe shave. Brush his teeth. Maybe even get himself -- he looked around nervously, blushing a little, despite the fact that he was thinking in the privacy of his own head.

Ez would look damn good in a tux. He smiled, his mind miles away, perfecting a mental image that made him swallow hard and wish, yet again, that he'd worn looser jeans.

Yeah. An evening out with Ez sounded pretty good, even if there was going to be guys in tights.

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

"Not purple! I don't care how funky it is! I am not being seen with you looking like, like, like a damned ambulatory eggplant!" Ezra looked on the verge of tearing his hair out and JD winked surreptitiously at the shop assistant, who looked torn between horror and giggles.

"How about the gold velvet then?" He picked up the sleeve of the suit in question and stroked it lingeringly.

"Not velvet. Please!"

"It would look great with that green and black and purple shirt we saw back there."

"I wasn't even aware this place had a Hawaiian range," Ezra said darkly. "And if I get my way, they will remove its pernicious presence forthwith."

"I like this shop, Ez," JD confided, and wandered a little further along the rack. "Mmmm. I loved fire engine red when I was a kid." He blinked as though a thought had suddenly occurred to him, "Hey, you're always calling me 'kid'. Maybe I should go for the nostalgia crack." He lifted the hanger a little off the rail and grinned as Ezra's hand snapped down on it.

"I think not!" He dragged JD down towards the fitting rooms, throwing a curt, "Please excuse us," to the smirking shop assistant over his shoulder.

"What's the matter, Ez? I thought you wanted me to smarten up; buy a suit; get something original, that suited me, that I liked--"

Ezra's mouth pursed tightly. "I do not for one moment believe that you thought any such thing. I think you took one look at this place and decided to behave as badly as possible in order to--"

"Ez!"

"--force my hand into taking you to some chain store that might as well be a thrift store for all the style and quality you'll obtain."

JD was red with embarrassment. "Ez, calm, down," he said tightly. "We're not exactly in private here."

"No. We aren't! And, yes, I am making a scene! But no worse than the spectacle you were making of yourself. If you do not wish to accompany me this evening, please say so, and I will relieve you of the clearly onerous task of sitting with me for some hours."

"Aw, Ez, come on," JD was starting to feel distinctly panicky. "I said I'd go, and I will, I just-- this isn't me?" He looked pleadingly at his lover, but Ezra had turned his back on him and was muttering unintelligibly, with hands flying. "Ez?" he asked nervously. "Please? I'll wear a monkey suit, a, a tux I mean, if you want. I just -- I ain't used to all this." He bit his lip. "I don't know what to --"

"What?"

I don't know anything, he thought furiously, clamping his jaw tightly shut and clenching his fists unconsciously. Anger, and miserable, humiliating shame burned in his throat like bile. This place, with its discreet shop front and quiet, elegant staff, and clothes with no price tags and no sizes, I don't know any of it. I don't fit in, I can't fit in: you can dress me up all you like and I'm still going to just be me, a chambermaid's son from New York, who doesn't --

"John, don't."

He looked hopelessly at Ezra. "You shoulda let me go to the mall, okay? This --" he waved at the store, "It's you, not me."

Ezra looked bewildered. "John, you have money. You don't have to dress like this any more." He glanced at JD's ragged jeans. "Don't you want to look better than that?"

"You liked these jeans all right yesterday," JD snapped, stung, and Ezra's eyes dropped.

"That was private."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry." Ezra sounded tired. He didn't look up, just shrugged. "You should, you should do what makes you happy. Dress how you want. I-- do you need a taxi or can you get back to campus on your own?"

JD flinched. "Ez?" He felt cold, and the room somehow seemed terribly distant. "Ez..." He reached out a hand and wrapped cold fingers around Ezra's wrist. "Don't go." You can't go.

"John?" Ezra pulled away, but before JD could do anything, say anything, he was holding JD tightly, pulling him into his chest, pressing his head into the crook of his neck. "John. My... my dear, I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

JD stood completely motionless for the longest time, slowly relaxing into Ezra. He felt like he never wanted to move.

"We're going home, okay?" Ezra murmured softly into his ear. Perhaps it had only been minutes after all. JD nodded into Ezra's shoulder but didn't move. "I don't want to make you unhappy," Ezra said softly. "I just thought-- John, you really want to know what I thought?" JD nodded, tilting his head back a little to meet Ezra's eyes. Ezra smiled. "I couldn't help thinking how fuckin' hot you'd look in a tailored suit."

"Really?" JD blinked a little. "Me?"

Ezra smiled, even though his eyes stayed solemn and watchful. "You. John, I never meant to make you feel--"

Like a whore. A big old dress up doll, not good enough for your world, JD thought, and he was afraid the thoughts showed on his face, because Ezra's eyes softened and he shook his head.

"Darlin', I love these jeans. I just don't want anyone else oglin' you," he smiled ruefully, inviting JD to share in a joke that he wasn't quite sure was funny.

"I don't understand."

Ezra laughed softly. "I know." He kissed JD lightly, and added, "I begin to understand the attraction of a Burqa."

"Ezra!"

"I'm jokin'!"

JD wasn't entirely sure he was, and blurted out, "You can't be jealous, you own me."

Ezra's face froze. "Of course I do. How foolish of me to forget."

Shit. "Shit, babe, I didn't mean that. Ezra, please, I didn't mean it like that!"

"What did you mean, then?"

JD stared into Ezra's eyes, and wondered if he really could see what he thought he was seeing. Or if it was a trick the mind played on the heart, making him think that iris and sclera, pupil and cornea had some unspoken message in them. "You dumbass, I only fucking went and fell in love with you, okay? Heart and soul. You didn't pay for them. You don't get to pay for 'em. I'm giving them to you, all right?" Somehow he'd expected the moment when he offered this to involve candles, and a dim room, and soft words. This fitted better though, even if it wasn't perfect. Even if it did feel like jumping off a cliff.

Green eyes widened, somehow soft and vulnerable. "Heart and soul, Mr. Dunne?"

JD reddened and ducked his head, "Something like that," he muttered in sudden, acute embarrassment. He wasn't going to do this; he was going to play it cool, and calm, and wait out the year, and oh god, Ezra was kissing him like there was no tomorrow, no time to spare, and certainly no curious shop assistants just the other side of a thin wooden door...

"I was going to wait," Ezra said, pulling back for a brief moment, then kissing him again like he couldn't bear to be away from his lips. "I thought, I would ... wait till the ... contract was over."

"Ezra?" He really didn't mean to sound so anxious.

"Love you. God, darlin', I love you. Heart and soul."

JD's vision blurred, and he wasn't entirely sure that he was breathing. "You still wanna go see Don whatsisface?"

"Don who?" Ezra asked in genuine confusion. "Let's go home, baby."

JD smiled and they leaned in together for one more kiss. "Yeah," he whispered against Ezra's lips. "Let's go home."

The title is from Horace's Odes, Book 1, 3, 1.8

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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.