Raven

JD shifted uneasily, watching the main entrance to the federal building as he waited for Ezra to emerge. The two security guards were still watching him, and he was pretty sure that if Ez didn't show soon, one or both of them would be walking back across to 'politely' ask him to move, hands on guns as they did so. The taller of them had already marched over once and given him the third degree over why he was sitting there -- apparently the guard thought he was part of a terrorist plot -- and he was clearly getting antsy again, talking urgently to his colleague and gesturing at JD.

He wondered if Ezra would bail him out if they arrested him, and what was keeping him. He looked up at the federal building. It was a big building. Maybe he'd gotten lost en route. Or maybe Mr. Larabee had found some work for him -- he pulled his phone from his pocket but there were no messages or missed calls. Huh. He fiddled with the tags on his backpack where it sat between his knees on the saddle, popping them open and shut, open and shut. It made sense, he guessed, not letting people hang around the place who weren't supposed to be there, but he wished Ez would hurry up.

Just as the guard started walking back over to him, a sour look on his face and his hand on the holster at his hip, Ezra emerged, looked around, and spotted JD waving. He headed for JD with a brief smile, standing close enough to kiss, looking down at JD as he sat on the motorcycle, although they didn't so much as touch. He stifled the urge to fix that, thinking, not here. Not if Ezra doesn't want to be out.

"Ez." He smiled up at his lover, and couldn't stop the shiver as their eyes met. He'd said it; they were lovers; Ezra loved him. Contracts be damned.

"John." Ezra's eyes warmed, even if his face didn't really show it, and then he brushed a hand over JD's where it was gripping the backpack, and it gave him a little courage.

"Missed you," he whispered, a little uncertain.

"In only eight hours? My, you have got it bad," Ezra teased gently. JD ducked his head, reddening. Stupid, he'd been stupid to think -- He felt a hand cup his chin and lift his head, and had to swallow hard when Ezra added, "How astonishing to find that I am in that very self same condition."

He wanted to taste him so much it felt like a physical twisting in his gut to hold back.

"I've got a helmet for you." He held the spare out between them, warding off any attempt at public kissing or anything like that. No point ruining Ezra's rep at work. His eyes flickered around but no, there were people watching.

Ezra rolled his eyes briefly, and grimaced. "I am not dressed for riding something with two wheels."

JD looked nervously at the bag in his hands for a moment, and then pulled the newly purchased jacket out of it. "Would this help?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the dull black leather, wondering, again, if it was a mistake. But he'd seen it, and he'd had this mental image... and he wanted to give him things.

Ezra's well manicured fingers took the proffered item and shook it out with neat, economical movements. "I don't recollect owning this particular item?"

JD squirmed. "I thought it would -- I can take it back, I just--"

"JD? It's okay." The unexpected name jerked his eyes up to meet Ezra's. The man was smiling and JD smiled with relief. "Hold this." He slipped off his suit jacket and handed it over, then pulled the leather jacket on, zipping it partially. "How does that look?"

"Uh--" JD couldn't speak. He swallowed and absently folded the suit jacket over and over until it was in wad. "Good." His eyes slid down Ezra's body and back up, and he repeated, "Real good."

Ezra grinned. "I'm so glad that I really did not care what happened to this suit." He nodded at the crumpled jacket and JD looked down, and hastily shook it out.

"Sorry," he began and Ezra shook his head.

"Don't trouble yourself. I wore it for the operation this morning, and as such it is most certainly not one I have any great amount of money or affection vested in. Now, had it been one of my other suits..."

JD carefully folded it up. "Sorry, Ez."

"Quite,” but he smiled to take the sting out of the comment, and added, “Now this," he stroked his leather sleeve, "this is beautiful. Both for the giver's sake and for the gift itself." He lifted his eyes from the jacket to JD, who was pretty sure he couldn't string even two words together right now. "Thank you."

JD nodded, and decided that the first chance he got he was going back to that store and buying the leather pants after all. His throat dried, and he had to swallow before he could speak again. He tried to sound casual. "You're--" his voice cracked and he tried again, "You're welcome." He pushed the suit jacket into his backpack and closed it up, swung it onto his shoulders.

"Did you have specific plans for our evening?" Ezra asked him, letting the moment fade, and JD shook his head, then nodded.

"Yeah, kind of. There's this restaurant? It's not far, but I know it's kind of early, so if you aren't hungry we can do something else instead, if you prefer, I don't mind. Because we can go eat or we can do something else first, whatever you want."

"When are you expected back at your 'lab'?" Ezra asked calmly, as though JD hadn't just turned into a babbling idiot.

JD took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. If he liked the place, he liked it. And if he didn't, he didn't. Neither thing would affect how Ezra felt about him. Hopefully. "Oh, uh, you know, whenever. I should definitely get back before midnight when they start pushing people out. It's supposed to be finished by eight, but you don't have to wait around for me, and I can go in tomorrow if you'd prefer." He chanced a small smile, "You've been doing all this stuff for me..."

"That's okay, if you need to work, god knows I can hardly object." Ezra looked as though he was going to add something, but when he spoke, it was simply to say, "I could eat." He grimaced, "Lunch was not a priority today."

"Great! I mean, not great that you didn't eat, but -- oh, shut up and get on," he finished as Ezra laughed softly. He kept one eye on the security guard who had paused when Ezra had arrived; the man was now slowly walking towards them. "Ez?"

Ezra sighed, and pulled the helmet over his head reluctantly.

"Great!" JD pulled his own in place, and kicked the stand free. "Hang tight."

Ezra settled behind him, and gingerly gripped his waist. Five minutes later he was stumbling off of the machine again as JD immobilized it.

"What on earth makes you imagine that anyone would attempt to steal that thing?" Ezra asked, sounding a little rattled. Maybe Ezra wasn't used to riding motorcycles, JD thought. The sharply taken corners and rapid threading through the traffic came back to him, along with the death grip on his hips. Oops. Maybe he should have taken things a little easier. Oh well. He'd get used to it. He pulled his helmet off and ruffled his hair until it was no longer matted to his scalp.

"You never know," he told him. "She’s pretty sound underneath, and the cops won’t look twice at a kid on her."

Ezra looked around them and nodded. "That is self evident. I can't imagine why--"

"Because I thought you might like this place, and I'm guessing you've never been." JD smiled nervously. For the first time, he was seeing the buildings through Ezra's eyes, and the old fashioned, quiet street suddenly looked dilapidated, dangerous and dirty.

"You would guess correctly," Ezra sounded politely horrified, and JD bit his lip. Oh, this was such a bad idea, and he had no choice now, not after getting Geoff and Jenny to let them in early.

"Ez?"

"I am in your hands," Ezra said, and placed a hand on JD's shoulder. "Now, where is this vaunted establishment?" JD smiled wider, Ezra's gesture left him feeling light with relief. He was going to give it a try, and he was bound to like it once he'd tried it. He squashed the niggling worry that Ezra, with his sophisticated tastes and manner was going to hate slumming.

"In here," was all he said, and he led Ezra down an alley, trying to pretend he didn't notice the smell, and then into an anonymous door halfway down it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ezra followed him down the corridor, taking in the plainly painted walls, and the clean floor. It was better kept than he had initially expected. Well, perhaps this would be bearable. His eyes settled on John's tense shoulders, and he shook himself. The man was trying. He could readily endure worse in the course of work, so this, when at least the company would be more than welcome, should be a snap. A rich, distinctive scent caught his nose, and he sniffed, and his eyebrows twitched upwards. "Curry?"

"Nearly. Indian. It's the only place I know in Denver that does it right, and you have to know someone before you can get in," JD told him and headed up the dingy flight of stairs that had been concealed behind the internal door.

Ezra frowned a little, wondering if this really was such a good place for a law enforcement official to find himself. JD looked back at him as he reached another door, and Ezra held out his hand, brushing it over JD's cheek.

"You okay?" JD asked, puzzled. Ezra smiled, and pulled him in close, and slipped his arms securely around him.

"I believe in the rush to get away from the office, we omitted something important," he said softly. He smiled down into the frowning eyes, and added, "Hi," from millimeters away, and JD relaxed, and tilted his face up for the kiss that Ezra wasted no further time in giving him.

And just like that, the whole world fell away, leaving just the smell of JD's clean skin, and the soft rasp of his late afternoon stubble, the warmth of his tongue, and the sweet tenderness of his lips. He closed his eyes and it was, it was everything; the sound and the scent, and the strong, warm body pressed against him, and the arms holding him...

"Ez... Ezra," he whispered against Ezra's mouth.

"John?" Ezra pulled back a little, opening his eyes.

There was a small, wondering smile on his lover's lips as he whispered, "How did I get this lucky?"

Oh. Ezra touched his fingers to John's cheek, tracing the line of the bone. John's eyes closed, and he tilted his face into Ezra's touch.

"Ah, John," he said, and gently touched his lips to John's again. It was like drinking a fine brandy, warming him from the center out. His hands felt as though they might tremble if he looked at them. Sweet fire spreading through his blood. Too good to be real, surely? Those touches made his bones dissolve, made him forget every hard lesson learned. He pulled him in close, savoring the solid warmth of John's body, as close as clothes and propriety would allow, breathing into his neck as they leaned into each other. He nibbled at the line of his throat, following it up to his ear, and then kissed his way back down. Ezra smiled as he registered the little eager noises John was making as he kissed across Ezra's skin urgently, drifting in until their lips met. He could feel tension of his muscles dissolving as John stroked his back, his hands slipping under the leather jacket to rub over the thin cotton of his shirt, only that between their bare skin, and that barely enough, and too much.

John moaned wordlessly, and Ezra felt the urgent swell against his thigh answering his own blinding need.

"Lucky...?" Ezra breathed, and kissed him, hard. With an effort he drew back again; JD looked dazed, his lips parted a little, eyes half lidded. He drew a deep breath, and rested his forehead against JD's. "Food first."

"Okay," JD agreed, but made no attempt to move away.

"We ought to either go in or move on," Ezra said softly, some minutes later.

"I know." JD sighed, and Ezra felt him take several deep breaths in before he stepped back, regretting the loss of JD's arms around him immediately. "I guess we should go in -- that is, if you're okay with Indian? Shit, I'm sorry, I never thought--"

"Oriental cuisine is entirely acceptable," he said soothingly; his personal misgivings were more related to the restaurant itself, than the style of the cuisine. He couldn't think of one good reason for a restaurant to hide in the back streets with no signs and no advertising. He could think of any number of bad reasons.

"You sure?" JD was watching him closely, and he sighed. There were clearly some significant disadvantages to such a close association if it made his thoughts so apparent to someone as patently inexperienced as JD.

"I'm --" he paused, and then bit the bullet. "John, are you entirely certain that this place is quite above board?" How to ruin a moment, he thought, and watched warily.

"What? Oh, come on, you're not on the clock, now. I'm not going to take you anywhere illegal, I swear. Relax. They just like keeping it quiet, you know?" He smiled, no offence taken, and Ezra repressed a sigh. "Sheesh, I oughtta make you take a holiday, you've been spending too much time with cops. It ain't illegal or anything. Trust me! They've got health inspections and stuff up the wazoo."

"That's not quite the comfort it should be," Ezra murmured. "I'm sorry, John, I have spent most of my adult life as a federal agent, and I just tend to be suspicious of --"

"Of anything that isn't government stamped?" John asked pointedly and Ezra's lips thinned.

"You are sure this is just a restaurant?"

"Yes!"

"Very well." Ezra followed John to the door and watched him knock. The thought struck him that he was finding it far easier to love than to trust. And that love without trust was no kind of love at all. But he had to get past a lifetime's training -- surely a few backslidings were permissible? A few seconds passed, and then the door swung open, and Ezra stared in surprise.

The contrast could not have been greater between the dirty grey, damp exterior, and this haven of warmth and bright colors. The walls were almost completely obscured by swathes of silk draped like curtains, giving the illusion of size to the place. The smell of eastern spices pervaded the place.

"Hey, kid, we haven't seen you for a while." The speaker was walking towards them, a middle aged man of Asian extraction, dressed in a smart, if cheap, suit, with a warm smile on his face.

JD bounced over to him pulling Ezra after him. "Geoff, this is my friend Ez. Er. Ra. Ezra." He stopped, and glowered as both the older men laughed. "Ez, this is Geoff Kumar. He owns the place with Mrs. Kumar."

"Ezra Standish." Ezra rolled his eyes and shook the hand the man offered to him with a pleasant smile.

"JD mutilates everyone's name," Geoff said to Ezra, and Ezra laughed politely.

"Not mutilate," JD argued, "It's a mark of, of, of affection!"

"It's a mark of your short term memory failing, with all those computer games you keep playing," Geoff teased him, and laughed at his scowl.

"Anyway, I told Ez you had the best Indian food in Denver, and he doesn't believe me, so --" he spread his hands, "show him what you've got."

Geoff shook his head, "And how are we supposed to live up to a billing like that?"

"Oh," JD smiled sweetly, "by telling Mrs. Geoff that I'm back and I need feeding up again?"

He dodged the cuff aimed at his shoulder, and bounced. "You said we could have the table in the back?"

"Go on then, and make yourself useful! Take some silverware with you!" Geoff called after him.

"You seem to know them well," Ezra observed as JD dragged him over to a table fully set for two, despite Geoff's comment. Ezra stifled his amusement as his partner carefully took his jacket, and saw him into his chair before taking his own seat. The kid was definitely getting points for trying. And maybe the food wouldn't be too bad.

"Mom and I used to come here a when we could afford it, you know, birthdays, graduation, stuff like that. I even bussed tables here for a while too, before Mom got ill, it's how I got to know Geoff and Jenny -- they own it." John smiled as he looked around, soaking up the place. "I loved this place. It was just so, I don't know, so exotic!"

Ezra suppressed his first reaction, which was to roll his eyes, and looked around instead, as though admiring the décor. "It's certainly unexpected after coming in from that street," he said carefully.

John grinned. "Isn't it great?"

Ezra nodded, but was saved from having to answer in any detail by Geoff, who appeared with menus in one hand, and a basket of poppadoms in the other.

"I'll bring the dips over in a minute," he said cheerfully, "Jenny says you're lucky she's not making you fetch them, springing surprises like this on us."

John reddened and shifted uncomfortably, "Geoff!"

Geoff grinned at him. "I'm just the messenger, kiddo. She said she'll be out later."

"We'll look forward to it," Ezra said politely, not missing the momentary frown on Geoff's face, and looked down at his menu.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ezra sighed and pushed the plate back.

"Oh, come on," John coaxed, "Just a little bit?"

Ezra looked dubiously at the greenish lump on the proffered fork. "And it does not involve chili in any form?"

"Oh, don't be such a wuss," he said with a grin. "It won't kill you. I promise." His eyebrows waggled, "I have plans for you, later, and they don't involve necrophilia."

"I am shocked," Ezra said solemnly, and licked a little bit, cautiously, then ate the rest of the forkful. "Mmm. Coconut?" It was surprisingly good; as had been his own simple chicken passander, selected for the innocuous sounding ingredients, and eaten right down to the last piece of flaked almond.

"Among other things," JD agreed. "Here." And fed him another bite of the sweet fish dish.

Ezra could feel someone's eyes on them and without looking knew that Geoff was watching them again. It made his back itch.

"You--" He ran a thumb over a drip on JD's lip, and met his tongue as it went to catch it. JD sucked on Ezra's thumb briefly, then let go, his cheekbones reddening even as his spine straightened, and his eyes hardened.

"You okay?" Ezra asked softly.

"I'm fine," he said quietly. The refusal to meet his eyes told a different story. "So, what happened next?"

Ezra slipped back into the story without any discernable hesitation, but his mind was on JD's so-called friends, and the way JD had been staring at something over his shoulder. He didn't need to turn to know that the restaurant's owner was taking an order from the table just behind him, and he was morally certain he knew exactly what kind of look the man was giving JD to make him close down like this. He finished up the story, with his friends roundly soaked, and himself pristine, and JD chuckled under his breath.

"You mean all of them landed in the overflow? Man, I wish I could have seen that."

"I can't imagine how it happened," Ezra deadpanned, just to see the hazel eyes crinkle up, and his face light up. There. That was why, and he smiled back.

"Yeah, can't imagine," JD was still grinning as he stood and rubbed a hand over Ezra's. "Back in a second."

JD walked quickly through the tables, now filling up as the evening crowd started arriving, towards the back. He disappeared through a door, and Ezra looked away, only to find his gaze caught by the owner's as he approached. To the normal eye the man looked disinterested, non-committal. Ezra noted the steady stare, and the taut grip the man had on the bowl of finger wipes that he was carrying, and drew his own conclusions.

"Thank you," he murmured, and helped himself to the offered bowl, carefully wiping his fingers on a hot, lemon-scented cloth. The man stood watching for a second, then sat himself in JD's chair.

"So, how'd you boys meet?"

Ezra raised an eyebrow. What concern was it of his? "At a club," he lied dismissively.

Geoff's frown deepened and his eyes flicked to Ezra's suit, the pricey leather jacket hanging on the coat hook by the table, and then back to his face. Ezra knew what impression he was making. Hell, it was his job to make this impression, in his mid range suit, and with his charming, slick manner. It was just interesting seeing someone squaring off with him like they thought the local cad was trying to have his way with the innocent heiress. He stifled a grin.

"JD doesn't go clubbing."

"Neither do I, normally, and yet, there we were. Clearly destiny took a hand and brought us together," he said blandly.

Geoff's face hardened. "I don't much like wise guys. JD's a good kid, and I wouldn't be the friend I ought if I didn't keep an eye out for an old friend. So don't get me wrong when I say that I really don't like people who take advantage of kids when they're in a bad place."

The man was deadly serious, and Ezra nodded politely. "An estimable ambition."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ezra allowed himself a smile, tried to keep it genuine. The food had been more than tolerable, and these were John's friends. The boy wouldn't thank him for making an enemy of them -- or a fool of him.

"I mean," he said gently, "that I don't much care for people taking advantage of JD either." He smiled faintly. "And I think he is perfectly capable of thinking and speaking for himself."

"Look, are you --" He paused, embarrassed but determined. "He's very young, have you--?"

"I don't see that that's any of your business." He glanced at his watch, hoping the man would take the hint, but Geoff looked over his shoulder at the direction JD had gone in, and seeing no sign of his return, turned back.

"He goes missing for nearly a year, and then turns up with you, looking fine, with money in his pocket, nice clothes on his back, better than he ever had before." Geoff said quick and low. "I know what happened with his mother, word gets around, and what I don't see is how he matches up with a guy like you. I want to know what he's gotten himself into."

Ezra blinked.

"I know your type, friend, and I'll find you and break your neck if you screw the kid over. He's a good man, even if he doesn't know shit about the world, and all the people who are just waiting to eat him up for breakfast."

He's much more likely to screw me, Ezra thought, sudden laughter pulling at him. He kept his face steady, and smiled over the man's shoulder as he caught a glimpse of JD behind a couple just arriving. "I think you are mistaking me for someone else, sir," he said. However annoying the man was, however little it was his business, it was still a little touching that he was attempting to protect JD's honor. Geoff followed Ezra's line of sight for a second, then turned back when he saw only the new arrivals at the door having their coats taken, only to find Ezra leaning far forward.

"I'm glad he has such friends." Ezra put as much honesty into his face and voice as he could muster, but it didn't seem to have a big effect. "I doubt you will believe me, but I do most sincerely have his best interests at heart. And I am his--" he stopped for a second, unwilling to articulate something so private, trying to find a way to say it that didn't sound sappy or give away too much.

"His what?" Geoff snapped when it became clear Ezra wasn't going to finish the sentence.

"His friend, his lover, his live-in house boy, his sex slave, whatever he wants me to be," JD said into Geoff's ear, and Ezra shook his head as Geoff visibly jolted with surprise, then glowered at his young friend. JD hooked a foot around a nearby chair and set it next to Ezra, sitting as close as humanly possible. "You coming the heavy parent, Geoff?" he asked easily. He slung an arm around Ezra, and smiled impishly at his old friend.

"Kid, I was just--"

"I know." JD smiled at him warmly, and then the smile vanished as abruptly as dust in water. "Just don't, okay?"

"JD--"

"I've had all the parent I'm ever going to, okay?" he said with finality, and Ezra looked swiftly at him at his tone, and wrapped an arm around his waist, concern about what people might think be damned. JD's hand was gripping his hip so tightly he could feel the bruises forming.

Geoff lifted his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, kid. JD."

JD shrugged, and gracelessly mumbled something that might have been 'okay then', and might not.

"We heard about your, your loss." Geoff visibly changed what he was about to say as he saw the kid flinch.

"Do you want us to leave?" Ezra said softly, his attention fully on his lover, perfectly willing to abandon this place without a second thought for daring to perturb JD's usual equable good humor, and JD turned, looking into his eyes.

"No." A smile shook and stabilized. "No, I'm good."

"Better than," Ezra corrected, and tried not to fall into hazel eyes, not to kiss him, not to tug him to his feet and take him somewhere where there was no more pain. Damn, and you told the kid he had it bad, Standish, he mocked himself, then dismissed the thought.

"Better than," JD agreed, and turned back to Geoff, a fierce look on his face.

It wasn't needed, Geoff was grinning at them. "Forget it. Just get a room before you get arrested for public indecency."

JD blushed. "Thanks," he said despite his embarrassment, and Geoff stood, tousled his hair.

"You come back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"And Jenny's sending you some dessert--"

"Oh, man, Geoff, I can't--"

"She's already done it. You want to tell her not to make you treacle pie, you tell her."

JD's eyes rounded. "Really? Proper treacle pie?"

"Yup. Just for you," Geoff grinned. "She's even boxed up the leftovers."

"Oh, wow."

Ezra groaned. "I guess we are staying for dessert then," he said, and JD laughed.

"Trust me. You'll love it," he said, he paused a few seconds while Geoff walked back towards the kitchen, and added in a whisper, "And just think of all that lovely, energy-giving sugar..."

"You'll be the death of me," Ezra informed him, but JD didn't seem overly troubled by this and kissed Ezra's ear quickly, and whispered.

"Yeah, but what a way to go."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ezra looked around curiously as JD crossed the computer lab and waved him to a seat.

"I'll only be five or ten minutes," JD said, but his fingers were already flying over the keyboard, and Ezra mentally revised that estimate up to 'at least half an hour' as he saw his lover frown.

There were half a dozen students lingering here, even at nine in the evening. He wandered through the room, taking in everything without seeming to -- a talent learned at his mother's knee, and so automatic as to barely register.

One girl writing to a friend -- an intimate friend, judging by the content of the note. Another flipping back and forth between screens, apparently making tiny adjustments on one, then examining the effects in the other. A lanky, kid with thick blond hair was instant messaging, and red lining his way through an essay, his? Maybe. And JD was scrolling through pages of data, occasionally highlighting something in what appeared to be a random selection of colors.

"You might find it easier if you included a key," he said quietly, and pulled up the next seat to the kid.

JD jumped, then sighed and smiled at him, giving him a quick look. "Yeah. Maybe. I always end up trying to figure out what I was doing when I come back to these the next time."

Ezra chuckled softly. "So, what is all this?"

JD frowned. "I -- I'm trying to make my program fail, I guess, in simplest terms."

"Fail? I thought the point was to make it succeed?"

"Uh, well, yeah. See, I repeat iterations, and then find where the projected results deviate from the actual." JD stared at the screen and marked another line in pink. "Then I get to go back and decide if the iteration failed because of the program, or because of the prediction. And then I fix the bug, or re-evaluate the original assumptions, and try again."

"Sounds almost as tedious as my own job."

"Oh, no, no way," JD said quickly. "You guys are out here doing the real thing, you know? Fixing the world, shooting the bad guys, saving the day--" the kid sounded a little distracted as he painted another line green, hesitated, and then changed it to yellow. "No way is it anything like this." He gestured at the screen and Ezra smirked a little. He had no idea.

"My job mostly entails hours and hours of paperwork, not unlike that." Ezra nodded at the screen.

"Yeah?" Clearly JD didn't believe him, and Ezra frankly doubted that he could change his rose tinted view of law enforcement without telling him the sort of sordid tale that he had no intention of ever sharing. His stomach twisted as he abruptly remembered this afternoon's session, and the decision to put him in deep cover. No. He wasn't going to mention that. Not tonight, or even tomorrow. Maybe on Sunday, after they'd had time to enjoy this, get used to it. He'd tell him he had to go then.

His thoughts darkened. He didn't want to go under. Not now.

He realized JD was waiting for his reply, and shook his head. "Take the Lasater case -- three weeks of studying audit paperwork, and comparing it with alcohol revenue figures for the past four years to make them tally -- and when they didn't, to discover what exactly was failing to match up." He eyed JD's pink, yellow and green highlighted sections, "I am only too familiar with those damn colors."

JD grinned. "Like war?"

"What?"

"Ninety percent boredom, ten percent utter terror."

"I find the ATF provides a lot less terror than advertised," he said, deadpan.

JD sucked a breath in through his teeth, and picked out another two lines in red and blue for variation, as far as Ezra could tell. "Failing to live up to their advertising?"

"Shocking, ain't it," he smiled, lying for all he was worth. The kid was going to be assured of his safety; he wasn't to worry over Ezra. And if that meant blurring the realities, then that was just fine.

"I don’t believe you," JD said, and Ezra's heart about stopped until he spotted the grin, "I reckon you're keeping all the fun to yourself, just being selfish." He laughed softly, and saved the document, then emailed it to himself and someone with a Greek sounding name.

"Who's that?"

"Lucy, she's into topographies. We're collaborating some on making the bots learn maps on a heuristic basis. See, some of her design programs have some pretty interesting implications for some of the assumptions I made in my algorithms and I'm losing you completely."

"No, not at all." He paused a beat. "What's a topography?"

JD snickered. "If you're real lucky I'll demonstrate some practical topographical applications once I get you home."

Ezra grinned back. "Oh good. Have you known Lucy long?"

"Nah. Professor Rosomon introduced us a couple of weeks ago. There, done." He smiled and stood, bending over to shut down the computer. Ezra's eyes drifted inevitably towards the smooth line of his ass under the tightly stretched chinos, and he vaguely wondered if JD actually owned one solitary pair of pants that didn't cling.

"She's a nice kid," he added, and Ezra blinked. "Lucy. Hello? Earth to planet Ezra?" JD slid an arm through his and started pulling him out of the lab, "Come on, they'll throw me out for conduct unbecoming if we don't get you out of here."

"I didn't know grad students could be thrown out for bad behavior," Ezra teased. "I thought it was written into their contracts that they had to behave badly. Drinking, wenching -- boying in your case, of course -- you know, all the usual vices."

"That's undergrads," JD said definitely, "Once you're a grad student you are expected to be a paragon of uh, good behavior." He nodded.

"Rectitude." Ezra said solemnly. "Sobriety. Decorum."

"That too."

They walked in silence for a few seconds until JD snorted, and they both cracked up.

"And what do you mean, 'get me out of here'?" Ezra protested, and JD slanted a wise look at him.

"I wasn't the one staring at my ass back there."

"I sincerely hope not," Ezra said placidly. "You'd get a terrible crick in your neck."

JD laughed; and Ezra slung an arm over his shoulders and hugged him close, smiling, but said nothing.

"Let me ditch some stuff and we can go home," JD said a moment later, as they approached a bank of lockers.

"Sure." Ezra propped himself against the wall, and watched with some amusement as JD cautiously opened one of the lockers, slamming a hand inside before anything could escape, and edging a knee up to trap anything that got away from him, while his free hand rummaged then pulled out a book. "Nope." The book was dropped on the floor without any hesitation, and he rummaged again. In short order there were any number of books, files, cd-roms, candy wrappers and even a shirt and a pair of deeply disreputable jeans.

"I thought I killed those," Ezra said, recognizing the jeans.

JD glanced down, and grinned widely. "Nearly. I was thinking of getting them framed."

Ezra felt a blush burn at his cheeks, to his absolute horror. "You're kidding!"

"Nope," JD smiled into space, then looked at him, turning awkwardly as he tried to keep the contents of his locker from spilling out, and keep his balance. "I figure those are the best pair of jeans I ever owned."

"They're falling apart! They're indecent!"

JD nodded happily. "Yeah. And you nearly demolished them completely getting them off me last night..." He looked down at them. "If I hadn't worn them, you wouldn't have made me go to that damn store, and--" His heart was in his eyes, and Ezra's throat closed up. He pushed away from the wall with his shoulders and crouched to pick up the jeans, then stood to shake them out, and folded them neatly.

"On second thoughts, I believe you may have the right idea regarding the disposition of these." He stared at them for a long moment. "Shall we go home now?"

"In a second, I promise, oh shit." JD's momentary inattention had the inevitable result and the resulting mess scattered far and wide.

"How have you managed to achieve this level of disarray in just two weeks?" Ezra asked, not really bothering to conceal his amusement as he helped pick up. He held out a stack of folders and papers to JD, who was carefully packing the locker into some sort of order. "Clearly a hitherto unsuspected talent on your part."

"Professor Sanders."

"Excuse me?"

"Sanders. Head of department -- I think you've got the last part of my hippocampus project--" JD reached over and extracted half a dozen pages, leaving the rest of the pile in Ezra's hands dangling precariously, and carried on. "He wanted me to show some guy around, and I had to just shove everything in and I never really got a chance to fix it." He looked around. "Okay, what do the cds say?"

"As opposed to part of your hippocampus, I suppose, for which I can only be grateful." He cautiously twisted the stack of cds until he could read the sleeves. "Maze one, maze two, blank, three, four, seven, something with the enigmatic designation POTC, maze twelve, another mystery object, Spiderman, maze five and eleven, Matrix Revolutions, oh my, the Sims 'Hot date', Sims 'hacks', how fascinating--"

"Give me that!" JD reached out for his cds.

Ezra stepped back, tutting, "Some of this looks like, good Lord, I fear that some of these items might be illegal, John, I sincerely hope you have not been indulging in piracy." He shook his head sadly. "I would be so deeply disappointed."

"Ez, one more word, and you're gonna be more than disappointed. You're gonna be sleeping on your own." But JD's lips were twitching, and Ezra had no fear that he would carry through.

"So, yes, Mr. Sanders. Please, do go on."

"Doctor Sanders. Well, Professor, or Dean, I guess, depending. Anyway, this guy wanted to look around the department, and then I was meeting you, and that was a couple of days ago, and like I said, I never really got a chance to fix it all." He looked inside the almost tidy locker. "Hey, thanks. You got anything else?"

"I believe there are only these." He passed JD the stack of papers, and JD sifted rapidly through them.

"Hey, I knew I had this somewhere!" He plucked something from the pile, and stuffed it into a pocket. "Cool. I was looking for them."

"I dread to think." Ezra smiled. "Are you ready?"

"I guess." JD shouldered the door shut and locked it. "Done."

"So, is this a normal part of your tasks, or didn't you move fast enough when Professor Sanders was looking for a tour guide?" Ezra grinned, "And if I ask nicely, do I get the tour too?"

"Maybe," JD flirted back, "if you make it worth my while." He laughed. "Usually it's whoever doesn't get out of the way in time, but you know, it's funny, the professor said he'd asked about me before we met. That's why he gave me the job, I guess."

"'He'? Anyone important?" he asked idly, and threaded his fingers through JD's as they started down the hall to the exit. "Decent contacts are always worth cultivating."

JD shrugged, "Dunno. I'd never heard of him. Terrence. Tarrant. Something like that." He glanced up, and added, with a grin, "His first name was Jacob; I remember that because he called me JD so I called him Jake, and what's wrong?"

Ezra had stopped dead in his tracks. He felt sick. "Torrence? JC Torrence?"

JD frowned, "Yeah, maybe. It was something like that. Shit, is he one of your, you know," he glanced up and down the corridor and then whispered, "cases?"

"Not exactly." His mind was trying to work, and for a panic-stricken moment all he could think was, Torrence knows. Oh god, he was right here, with you, and I didn't know.

"Oh, okay, just the way you said it--" JD shrugged. "You know," JD's frown deepened, "Are you sure he isn't? Because I just remembered. He said to remember him to you, and to," he drew air quotes, "'your lovely mother'."

His mask held, and it dawned on him that the reason JD had seen through before was because he had allowed him to. Not tonight. He'd explain later, he just wanted to have tonight to themselves, nothing outside. "I believe my mother had some sort of association with him some time ago. Watch out for him," he said easily, "Torrence has a reputation as a ruthless businessman -- nobody seems to know where all his money came from, and anyone who goes looking tends to, ah, regret the endeavor." If they are alive to regret it.

"He has them killed?!" JD seemed to latch onto the most sensational interpretation, and Ezra wished he could just contradict him, but...

"Not anything so crude, darlin'. Just be careful of him -- if he contacts you, anything strange?"

"Sure, but I don't think he was interested in me." The kid looked doubtful for a second, and Ezra wanted to ask him what that doubt was, but pushed the question away, thinking to himself, again, not tonight, not tonight, I'll tell you about Maude tomorrow, I promise.

"Good." He forced a smile. "Shall we?" He held out a hand again, and JD took it without hesitation, and they walked out hand in hand, smiling at each other happily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You want to go back to get your car?" JD asked as Ezra took his helmet back, and sighed. He'd liked the feel of Ezra sitting behind him on the short journey to the restaurant, and the somewhat longer one between the restaurant and the campus, their hips snug against each other, warm and arousing.

He held his breath as Ezra frowned for a moment, clearly turning over options.

"I'll bring you in tomorrow, if you want?" he offered hopefully.

"If I leave my car overnight in the ATF building we will have no option," Ezra pointed out, and JD nodded, waiting for Ezra to decide. The man looked consideringly at JD. "I suspect I may come to regret this decision, but -- why not?" He pulled the helmet on, and JD did the same, grinning, handing him the backpack.

"Take that, okay? Safer that way."

Ezra pursed his lips, then carefully settled the backpack in place.

"You sure? It's going to be kinda cold this time of night," he said, suddenly uncertain. Ezra and a motorcycle ride of nearly an hour's duration, in the dark, suddenly seemed if not impossible, improbable.

Ezra leaned in close, "Thank you for your solicitude, but I believe I shall be quite warm enough."

"Yeah?" JD swung his leg over and started the motor, pulling on his gloves. Ezra settled in tight behind him, scooting himself in until he was plastered along JD's back, his crotch firm against his ass, his thighs brushing the underside of JD's.

"Oh yes, indeed," Ezra said, and slid his arms around JD's waist, tucked his hands inside JD's waistband, and humped forwards a little, emphasizing the growing swell of his groin.

JD moaned under his breath, and wondered how the hell he was going to get them home without killing them both.

As it happened, the ride was relatively straightforward. It seemed that despite his flirtatious behavior at the start of the journey, Ezra wanted to survive the journey as much as JD did.

It took a mere twenty minutes to get out of the city and onto the open road. With a happy sigh JD opened her up, and wrapped a hand over Ezra's where they had tightened on his belly before putting it back onto the handlebars. At fifty-five the motorcycle purred happily, weaving around the scattered traffic as it appeared and disappeared into the darkness.

Soon they came to the turnoff for Ezra's place, and wound their way slowly up the winding switchbacks, the engine the only sound for miles, beyond his own breathing. He shrugged his shoulders into Ezra, whose body was a warm weight against his back, and smiled at the slow undulation from hip to chest that came back. It was just about perfect, the moon casting light and shadows that they seemed to float through, the wind cold on his exposed wrists and throat, buffeting his denim clad legs. He wondered how Ezra was doing, the leather jacket was lined, and would keep his upper half warm, but those thin suit trousers would be about as much use as cobweb. Ezra's hands were warm on his belly, tucked away from the cold under his jacket and shirt, not moving, but delicious for all that. He slowed even more to spin out the pleasure of the journey, and the wind became a breeze, but he had to speed up again as the engine started to complain at the weight and the incline.

They were home ten minutes later, Ezra groaning slightly as he got off the machine. He swung one leg over, then sat sideways on. "I may never walk again," he announced.

JD pulled his own helmet off, then undid the strap on Ezra's and helped him off with it. He put both helmets down and cupped Ezra's face. "Love you." He leaned down and kissed him. He pulled him upright without breaking the kiss, and deepened it.

"Inside," Ezra gasped after long minutes. "I am not doing this out here. It's too damn cold."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

JD ran upstairs and washed, brushed his teeth swiftly, stripped out of his road-dirty pants, and dragged on a different pair, chinos, dark green, and a cream long sleeved t-shirt. He shook his head at himself: the clothes were going to come off again in minutes with any luck, but he was dithering over the stupid outfit worse than he'd worried about what to wear to the auction.

He paused and grinned. Well, hell, the auction, he'd just been naked. It would save time...

He stripped, and stopped at the door, his nerve temporarily deserting him. "I can do this," he said firmly, then turned the handle and padded quietly down the stairs.

"Do you want a dri--" Ezra turned and his jaw hung open for a second before he snapped it shut. A small smile pulled at the side of his mouth and he said, "Well, I'm guessing we can skip the drinks?"

JD felt his ears burning, but Ezra was smiling, and he walked right up to him, and took the snifter of brandy out of his hand, and started unknotting his tie, crowding Ezra towards the sofa. Ezra's hands smoothed over his hair, then cupped his face.

"You deprived me of the fun of unwrapping you," he complained, still smiling, and JD shook his head.

"I get to undress you."

"Well, that could be fun too," Ezra conceded, and one hand dropped to JD's groin, where his cock hung, half hard with anticipation.

"Mmm," JD agreed, and threw the tie off to the left somewhere. Ezra started laughing, and JD looked up.

"What?"

"I see I am going to spend my mornings retrieving the clothing you fling about so freely the night before."

"I can stop," JD said wickedly, his hands hovering over Ezra's shirt buttons.

"No, no, I imagine I will come to enjoy the new additions to my morning routine."

JD grinned, and leaned in. He licked delicately at the hollow of Ezra's throat, feeling the pulse there beating steadily, quickening under his touch. He plucked the buttons open one by one, and kissed upwards as his fingers drifted downwards, until he was pressing little dabs of kisses over Ezra's lips.

"Stop teasing me, brat," Ezra said abruptly, and drove his tongue into JD's mouth, a hand tangling in his hair.

Ezra tasted of spices, and JD hummed with pleasure as his mouth was plundered ruthlessly. Ezra's touch was dizzying, and he was barely aware of anything but the hands, lips; the warm body against his own. Ezra bit at his lobe, and he moaned as his tongue delicately licked him, following the curves and whorls of his ear. Ezra's chest was bare against him, he wondered how that had happened, even opened his eyes to see the shirt hanging half off a chair, but the room was too bright, and Ezra's touch too insistent, and he closed his eyes again.

"Yes," Ezra murmured, "yes, let me--"

JD shuddered. Ezra's hands ran over him possessively, stroking and rubbing, turning him on so bad. He moved his whole body against Ezra convulsively, uncoordinated and desperate for more contact, more of that warm skin and those delicious, incendiary touches. Ezra was still talking, murmuring words that between the muffling of Ezra's mouth against his skin, and JD's own blissed out fog barely made sense, but still settled warmly into his heart, whispering in tone of love and need, and eager desire.

Then Ezra was completely bare against him and JD moaned as he was forced, step by step, to move. He pulled back a little, and Ezra smiled at him, breathing hard.

"Bed, brat."

"Couch?" he counter-offered, and Ezra looked like he was considering it for a moment, and then shook his head, dipping another kiss onto JD's lips.

"Bed, baby, I want to take my time."

Heat rippled through him and he stared, astounded at his lover. He wasn't even entirely sure what it was that had shaken him so much. Perhaps it was the tenderness in Ezra's voice, or the implicit love, and concern, and promise of hours and hours of intimacy ...

Yeah, that would do it.

"Okay," he said, and slipped his hand into Ezra's own.

The linen on the bed was cool and crisp, and in sharp contrast to the heat of his skin as he sat on the edge of the bed. Goosebumps raced over him, but Ezra was kissing him again, easing him down onto his side, lying beside him, driving all thoughts of anything but this moment out of his head. The world seemed to split into moments -- Ezra by his side, one hand stroking his flank as they kissed, the other between them, fumbling at his cock. Being rolled onto his back passed him by, but Ezra's weight on his chest, Ezra's thigh splitting his legs shone.

"Please?" he said into Ezra's throat, kissing and licking. The hollow at the base of Ezra's neck was irresistible, and he dipped his tongue into it, mapped the lines of bones and flesh and tendons out. Tasted the warm salt of Ezra's sweat, and groaned, buried his face into that place and suckled, hard. Slick fingers breached him briefly, and he arched up, offering himself, widening the splay of his legs, and then when that wasn't enough, lifting them until he could wrap them high around Ezra's body.

"Love you," Ezra said softly, clearly, and that was another moment that snapped into focus, the words so raw for all their tenderness that he dragged his eyes open again and so was watching Ezra's face as he pushed into him; and was riveted by the intensity on the man's face. Ezra's pupils were so dilated that they seemed all black, and those eyes were fixed on him with something that looked like wonder.

"You too, Ez," he whispered, "I love you too," and he arched his back, tightened his thighs on Ezra's waist and drove himself up until he was completed, the emptiness that only came when he was apart from him gone.

Don't go, he wanted to whisper, stay forever, but he smiled instead as Ezra started moving inside him, the long hard shaft pulling out with sweet ease, and then driving back up into him until he could feel the strain in his thigh muscles as Ezra's hips pushed them apart, and the rough brush of hair on his anus. And out again, until the stretch wasn't painful, and every stroke make him shake, the movement, the friction, the fullness of it, the sweet frictive pressure deep inside, getting him exactly where he most wanted to be touched, and the tight pressure on his aching shaft that somehow was slicked and gripped too, but by knowing, strong fingers.

This was going to be forever, he thought hazily, and then there were no more thoughts at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey, kid," Buck smiled at the young man as he pulled his helmet off. He looked up and smiled politely back.

"Lemme just lock this up," he said, tucking his helmet under one arm, and neatly dodging any attempt to shake hands. Buck frowned as he ducked out of sight to run a chain through the wheels. Fine. If the kid was going to be like that, then he was going to just have to work a little harder.

The kid straightened up, and Buck pushed himself to his feet from his perch on the hood of his truck.

"Shall we?" He swept an arm out inviting the kid ahead of him, and followed him into the bar. He blinked a little, his eyes adjusting to the darker environment, and found Inez smiling at the kid.

"Hi JD," she said cheerfully, and reached for a menu. "Is Mr. Standish coming?"

"Not this time," JD said easily enough, but Buck noted, and smirked at, the red tinge to the kid's ears. Well, well, well.

"Inez, you are more beautiful than ever."

Inez rolled her eyes. "And you are just as stupid, Senor Wilmington," she said cheerfully. She looked from him to JD, "Tell me you are not corrupting this young one now?"

"No, ma'am," JD said, "He's buying me lunch." Buck surprised a wicked grin on the boy's face, and shook his head.

"Hey! When did I ever say that?"

"Well, I figure, when you invited me to lunch."

Buck reached over and scrubbed at the flattened hair. "Like the new look, kid, but not that much." JD twisted away from his touch sharply.

"Leave the hair alone, man," he said, and Buck looked at him, surprised at the vehemence in his voice.

"Sure, sure, no harm, no foul."

He glanced at the bar where Inez was studiously polishing a glass. "Can I have a beer, sweetheart?"

"I am not your sweetheart, senor, and that'll be five dollars eighty."

Buck felt his eyes widen, but reached for his wallet. "What kind of beer you serving here? Got gold dust in it?"

"You don't like my beer, you don't have to drink it!" she said briskly and pushed a bottle of some weird import microbrew.

"What the hell is a Bishop's Finger?"

JD snorted. When Buck looked at him though he was smiling sweetly at Inez. "Do you have any milk?"

"Milk?" Buck sputtered. "I bring you to a fine bar and you want milk?"

Inez however simply nodded. "Of course, JD. I can do raspberry, chocolate, banana or just ordinary, and hot or cold."

JD grinned, "Raspberry, cold. Thank you!"

"How old are you anyway?" Buck muttered, and then remembered the reason that he'd brought the kid here in the first place. "Not that you have to be young to drink milk. No. Definitely not. You drink whatever you want." He pulled his credit card from his wallet and put it on the bar. "Inez, run us a tab, wouldya, darlin'?"

Inez reached over for the card and examined it dubiously, but accepted it without a word. "If you want to take a seat, I'll bring your shake over, chiquito."

Buck looked at his own bottle of beer, which had been unceremoniously thumped on the bar before him. "How come he gets table service?"

"Because he behaves like a gentleman." She slapped a menu on the bar, stinging his fingers. "Now, go, sit, and stop bothering me."

"Aw, Inez..."

"Now!"

Routed, Buck retreated. The kid had picked a table by a window, and had settled into the seat that faced the rest of the room. Buck scowled and took the one with his back to the door. He hated sitting here, especially when he was with someone he couldn't trust to back him up. It made the middle of his back itch as though it was exposed to sniper fire. Worse yet the kid had his face buried in a menu, and was clearly laughing under his breath. Buck smiled reluctantly.

"You think that's pretty funny, huh?"

"You ain't all that, Buck," the kid said cheerfully, and Buck laughed.

"You just figuring that out, boy?" He swiped the menu. "Let me see that."

"Get your own!" JD protested and tugged it back. They struggled over it for a few seconds until Inez approached, JD's milkshake on a tray, her eyebrows high.

"You boys ready to order?"

"Sure," JD said, throwing a smirk at Wilmington. Buck felt his heart sink. "I'd like the sixteen ounce fillet, and a side of fries with cheese. And can I have onion rings with it? And biscuits and gravy? And some salad?"

"Certainly, honey, what kind?"

JD grinned at her, "Oh, you know, whatever's expensive."

She grinned back. "Ah. I shall do my best."

She turned away and Buck called, "Hey, hey, now, wait up a minute! What about my meal?"

"He'll have the same, Inez," JD called, and Inez grinned wickedly.

"That's exactly what I thought, senor!"

"No, now what a minute! Inez! Inez?" he called plaintively, then followed her to the bar. "Don't be like that, honey? All I wanted was a cheeseburger, you do them so well. I ain't had one of your cheeseburgers in a dog's age."

"And whose fault is that?"

Buck shrugged. "You don't like me coming here, so--"

"I like your money just fine. It's your attitude that stinks. You'll eat what I serve you and be grateful."

"Aw, don't be mad," he said. Inez turned away with a snort of disdain. He sighed, then headed back for the table.

"I'm wearing her down, kid," he said cheerfully.

JD shook his head. "Ain't that kinda harassment?"

"Nope." He shook his head, and was going to leave it there when he caught the disapproving frown being bent on him. "Kid, what you gotta understand, is I've known Inez since she arrived here, pretty much six years ago now. She's like a sister."

"You hit on your sister? You're more perverted than I thought." Inez said unexpectedly, and put a salad and some bread rolls in the middle of the table. "The rest will be along."

Buck grinned sheepishly. "It's a game. She knows it. I know it."

JD looked from him to the bar owner and back. He clearly wasn't entirely convinced.

"Ask any of the guys," Buck added, and then thought about it. "On second thoughts, scratch that."

JD grinned. "I'll ask Ezra," he said briefly, and broke a roll and buttered it.

Buck frowned. The kid was supposed to be opening up to him about now. Okay, so he usually charmed the ladies, but surely a bitty kid like this wasn't going to be that difficult to get to talk? Not when he was a talker anyway.

"How's things at school?" Was he really reduced to talking to the boy like some maiden aunt? He eyed the kid morosely. Next he'd be saying how much he'd grown since he'd seen him last. Although... A slow grin spread over his face, bet the kid was touchy about his height...

"Fine." JD popped another piece of bread in his mouth.

How long was this kid going to hold a grudge anyway?

"You working on anything interesting? Special class project or something?"

JD shrugged. "Not really."

"Yesterday was pretty interesting," Buck tried.

"Yeah?"

"Ezra made a good call on that bust. I guess he told you about it."

JD shrugged. "Ezra doesn't talk about work much. Says he endures entirely too much of it during the day to spend his free time ruminating over it." The kid didn't do a bad southern accent -- if you thought that Scarlet O'Hara was a good role model.

Buck grinned, "Sounds like Ezra."

"So..." JD fiddled with his glass, "What happened on the bust?" He looked up and Buck smiled and leaned back into his chair.

"Well, kid. I was running the operation, seeing as Chris had to go pacify the bean counters. Now I don't know if Ez's told you how we run stuff--"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"--so old Ez is going back in, but this time it's gonna have to be in deep." Buck stopped abruptly and closed his mouth.

JD froze. "What does that mean?" But he already had a damn good idea. Deep cover -- go into the bad guys camp, fake them out, save the day. Ah, shit. And he remembered how tender Ezra had been last night, how he'd poured everything into making JD feel loved and wanted. Ezra, you idiot, he thought, anger churning with pity.

"Uh--" Buck hedged, looking around, "You know, I ought to get back to the office, Chris -- Mr. Larabee -- is gonna pitch a fit if I turn up late again."

"You said he was in a meeting all day."

Buck looked trapped, and JD felt his initial surprise slowly solidify into anxiety. What was so bad about this assignment? "I might have exaggerated a little."

"Exaggerated?"

"Lied," he said baldly, and JD shook his head.

"No. Buck, please, tell me what you meant. Go in deeper?"

"Inez!" Buck waved at her, "Check?"

She nodded and turned to the cash register.

"Buck..."

Buck stared at his hands for a moment then sighed. JD almost felt sorry for him, but he was the one who had opened his big mouth. He could damn well explain what he meant. "It's like this, kid. Lasater's outfit is bigger than we thought. That take down -- Ez made the right call on it, aborted, got us right in position to go in, take them apart from the inside out. And Ez, he's already in with Lasater, and he's the best undercover man I've ever seen, and I've seen a few."

"Okay. So--"

"So. He's going to have to build up the identity he's already got; get in close to Lasater and his operation to figure out how it works. That means deep cover." He hesitated, and finished it. "And that means nothing and no one to stick holes in his identity."

JD felt sick. "No me."

Buck wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah, probably, kid." He winced as JD brusquely reached for his drink and drained the milk wishing it was whisky and slammed the glass back down. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay. I needed to know." He tried to relax his tensed shoulders. "When, when does he go in?"

Buck shook his head. "I don't know. They're going to have to set up a place for him to live; an ID that will stand up to a reasonably thorough scrutiny--"

"He should have told me!" he blurted.

Buck looked at him with something like pity in his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

"Maybe?!"

"He only knew yesterday. What did you guys do last night?"

JD blushed, and then ducked his head as Buck started laughing. Inez appeared with the check and Buck glanced at it and signed it off, taking back his card in exchange. "Thanks, hon," he said absently, and Inez smiled genuinely at him.

"A pleasure."

"So when do you think he had a chance?" Buck said.

JD looked down. "He should have--"

"But you'd have had a shitty evening if he had, right?" Buck shook his head. "Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Hell, I should have kept my mouth shut. I'm betting he was going to tell you this weekend, or maybe next week. Wait 'til he had something definite to say."

"Doesn't he trust me?"

Buck looked straightly at him. "Ez don't trust much of anyone."

"But--"

Buck's eyes were kind, but not a hint of it was in his voice. "How's he supposed to trust someone he's known for three months?"

JD bit his lip. Buck didn't know how much less time than that it really was. Maybe Buck had a point -- but it didn't stop it hurting. He shouldn't have had to find out from someone else.

"Okay," he conceded reluctantly. Dark blue eyes met his and he reddened. "Okay," he repeated, with more emphasis. "I just thought--"

"Hell, he don't trust us and we've known him more'n a year longer than you." Buck grinned. "Just because you're just about crazy about him doesn't mean his brain's switched off. He's always gonna analyze, double check. You know, he's always trotting out this phrase, now what was it. Yeah. 'As a gambler I leave nothing to chance'." He pulled off a near perfect imitation of Ezra's voice and JD grinned momentarily.

"Yeah, but--"

Buck stood and JD followed suit. "Kid, all I can tell you is you need to figure out how to get over this. And fast. Ezra thinks you don't like it, one of two things is gonna happen. He'll drop you, and get himself killed, or he'll drop the case, and get himself fired."

"Killed?" JD's voice cracked and he swallowed, trying to make his dry mouth work. "What do you mean?"

Buck looked at him compassionately. "Son, he's in the ATF. You've gotta know that he carries. We all do. That's not just for the fun of it, JD. Agents die every year. Not many, but some. And he's going in where people have everything to lose if he makes mistakes." He held JD's eyes steadily, and JD shivered. "Don't make it so he don't care if he makes a mistake."

Buck had to be exaggerating. God, please, he had to be. The way Ezra had talked about it, working for the ATF was all paper pushing and mind games. Except... He thought of the holster that Ezra quietly shrugged on every morning under his jacket, and slipped off as soon as he got home. He didn't even know where the gun was kept when Ezra wasn't wearing it, hadn't noticed him taking it off in the evenings, or fetching it in the mornings. There had to be some kind of gun safe around the house, but he'd never noticed it, much less spotted Ezra using it.

He felt sick. Sick, and stupid, and so naive.

"That gun ain't for decoration, you know," Buck said quietly, as though he was reading his mind. "He's a damn good shot at short range, and not bad at middle and long range. Ain't a marksman, but we don't need a marksman. We already got Vin."

JD shook his head, not denying it exactly, more trying to settle the knowledge into his whirling brain. "Are you carrying right now?" he blurted.

Buck nodded, and tugged at the hem of his jacket. For a second the shape of a gun was sharply delineated under the fabric, and he let go, leaving only the faintest bulge above his left breast.

"I never--" he couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. A large hand settled between his shoulders and guided him outside.

"I know." Buck looked at him seriously. "You better figure it out pretty damn fast though, kid. Because crazy as you are about him, he's the same about you. And if this changes --"

"No!" It didn't change anything. But... He slid a quick glance at the bulge where Buck's gun lay concealed.

"If you can't handle this, you better figure it out and leave while you only break his heart a little."

"I ain't going nowhere!" JD snapped before he even thought about it.

Buck slapped him on the back and grinned hugely. "Good man. Trust me, everything else is details, kid. Right?"

JD glowered at him. "I guess," he said reluctantly, wondering exactly how he'd gotten maneuvered into this.

"No guessing involved!" Buck laughed out loud. "You go stew about it, now, but don't forget my advice."

"What advice?" JD said helplessly. Buck unlocked his truck and hopped up into the driver's seat. He slammed the door and grinned out the window at JD.

"All of it!" He started the car and pulled out of the lot, leaving JD completely speechless behind him.

"What advice! He didn't give no advice! All I got was a bunch of stuff about leaving Ez, which I ain't doing, and guns, which I--" He came to a halt.

Mom had been anti-guns. Her brother had died when his best friend shot him accidentally with his father's gun. They had been ten years old and playing with the loaded Luger brought home from Germany as a trophy. She'd been six years old, and had never, ever forgotten.

He knew of her feelings, but at second hand, and he'd never really felt that distaste or fear himself. She'd hated him playing cowboys and injuns as a kid, had refused to let him have a toy gun, even a water pistol, and all his life, he'd respected her wishes, almost automatically. He stared at his hands, remembering.

He'd gone to a firing range once, when he was nineteen, right after he'd gotten back from England. There'd been a big crowd of them, and he'd been reluctant to show how little he knew about guns. He'd grown up in a big pro-gun state, with an anti-guns mother. He'd felt self-conscious, and awkward, and not a little embarrassed when he'd been handed ear protectors and a gun, and a round of bullets, cold and heavy in his hand.

He'd listened carefully, and then carefully followed the instructions. Loaded correctly, first time; lined up, both eyes open, pointing carefully, both hands supporting the weapon as it recoiled, and the instructor murmured, and he listened, and adapted, and shot, and again, and again, until the round was gone, and they were reeling the target in, and there was a ragged group, spiraling inwards. Not dead center. Not even once. But closer than he was comfortable seeing. The instructor had looked at it and nodded, and told him, not bad, a bit of practice and he'd hit dead center every time. And he'd never, ever gone back.

He'd never told her.

It felt like a betrayal.

He wondered if Ezra had ever killed someone. If Buck had. Did it make them feel different? Did they even care?

Did it make Ezra different?

And then he wondered what it felt like to have people around you who would kill you in a heartbeat if they knew who you really were. What it felt like to know your life rested on the knife edge of a lie.

And underneath it all, he desperately wanted to call Ezra, right now, and make him promise never to leave.

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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.