The quiet murmur of voices stopped as JD walked into the living room, and Vin and Ezra looked up.
Ezra's welcoming look at him eased an odd sort of tightness in his chest, and Ezra's words loosened shoulder muscles that the dribble of the unpowered shower had not been able to cure.
"A great improvement over the drowned rat look," Ezra said with a glimmer of a smile and JD relaxed and smiled back in sheer relief, and leaned against the side of Ezra's chair.
"You okay?" JD ran a hand over Ezra's hair, which was dry.
"The value of investing in good quality wet weather gear."
"Hah!" Vin snorted. "The value of being more worried about a little damp than the Wicked Witch of the West. I swear I've seen him wear that stuff just cause there's a little old cloud coming up in the west."
"And yet I have remained dry, while you have gone for the drowned lap-dog look. Most attractive."
JD grinned and perched on the arm of the chair, slipping his arm casually over Ezra's shoulder. "I'll keep you warm," he offered cheerfully, tugging him a little closer.
"You're so generous," Ezra said, deadpan, and leaned in with a smirk at Vin, who threw up a hand before his eyes in mock horror.
"God, anything but that," Vin said, laughing. "Notice he ain't promising 'dry'."
JD reddened but didn't deny it -- but did try to change the subject. "Um. I think there's some hot water left, if you wanted to shower?"
"I've just about dried out, thanks," he shook his head, then glanced at Ezra who frowned faintly. Whatever Vin had been about to say in addition he kept to himself.
"What's going on?" JD asked, looking between the two of them.
"We're waiting on Mr. Larabee's presence before going any further with that discussion," Ezra told him. "Instead, I was thinking that we should explore the options of cooking over an open fire." Ezra nodded at the log fire burning in the fireplace with an air of doubtful resolution.
"Cool." JD hesitated, "Isn't that going to mess up your carpet?" Do we even have anything that could be cooked over an open fire? he wondered.
"You've corrupted him, Ez," Vin said solemnly. A smile flashed briefly, teeth white in the dark but before anything else could be said someone rapped sharply on the outside door.
"I'll get it--" JD stopped. Twin metallic clicks, and both Vin and Ezra were standing. Both of them were holding guns, glinting dark in the firelight, held low. They were moving noiselessly towards the door, taking either side of the hall without a word.
"Ez?" he whispered, shocked. It was like suddenly being in the middle of a movie, without the option to leave the theater, or pause the DVD.
"Stay here," Ezra said sharply, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadows, his voice barely audible. As a seeming afterthought he added, "If anything happens, get out. Take the Jag and go. Leave the bike, and call Chris."
JD stepped back, opened his mouth to protest, but Ezra's hand was up, "Quiet."
JD nodded. He felt hollow, a weird shaking in his stomach that he wanted to believe was fear, and that he suspected was excitement. He followed, slowly and cautiously, his bare feet making no sound. He ought to find his sneakers, find the keys to the Jag, but instead he lurked by the door of the living room, watching, the silence so acute that he could hear his heart beat, and every breath sounded like a rattling gale.
There was a murmur of voices, and the soft sound of Ezra chuckling under his breath. He squinted, and an abrupt movement split the shadows into reality and illusion. The two agents were dark shapes, one against either wall of the foyer. In the light from the fanlight he could make out the blunt shape of a gun held low in a two handed grip, and took a step back, surprised when his shoulders hit the wall. When had he gotten through the living room door? He slid sideways out of the direct line of sight of the front door, telling himself that he was getting ready to run for the kitchen and the keys on the side there, and knowing it for a lie.
Vin's hand was pale against the dark of his pants with three fingers splayed out, then two, JD just about realized he was seeing a countdown, and Ezra slammed the door open, using it as cover, Vin out in the open, plastered against the wall, gun held straight out, dead center on the man standing there.
"Hands--" Vin only got the first word out before he stopped. "Chris."
"Put it away," their visitor snapped irritatedly, and JD watched as Chris Larabee stalked through the entrance and down to the living room, ignoring both of his agents in grand style. He had no doubt that the man had seen him in his swift survey of the interior of the hall and environs, but ignored him. He felt vaguely disgruntled until he heard the muttered, "Fucking pair of drama queens."
JD's lips twitched. So maybe being ignored was for the best then. He trailed meekly after the three of them into the living room and lurked behind Ezra's chair until Larabee sat in it.
"Excuse me for thinking that a bug in my cellular telephone might possibly be worthy of a little drama," Ezra said mildly.
Larabee grunted, then looked at JD. He'd been right. Being ignored was better. The man managed, without saying a word, to express his opinion that JD had no business being there.
"John--" Ezra began, and JD gritted his teeth. He was going to tell him to leave. He tried very hard to tell himself it was fair enough, they were federal agents and as Vin had so recently pointed out, he was an unknown security risk.
"Federal stuff, huh?" he said, trying to sound like he didn't care.
"I'm afraid so," Ezra said. He did him the courtesy of facing him directly, stepping close enough to take JD's hand and rub his thumb over his knuckles. JD stared at the smooth, slender fingers rather than look at him. "I am sorry, darlin'."
The hell of it was that he sounded sorry, and all JD could think was that Ezra lied to people for a living.
"'S okay," he said. He didn't sound like he didn't care, which was a pity, because he felt like he was going to come off like a sulky child sent to his room. "You guys have got business to do. I'll just go file my nails or something."
And oh yeah, that sounded real mature, he mocked himself. Ezra's whore, useful for fucking and getting out of the way. No. That wasn't fair on Ez.
"Good boy," Larabee said, and he held himself still at the edge of mockery in Larabee's voice, and reminded himself that he didn't care what the fuck that man thought. Ezra loved him. He'd said so, and he'd meant it, and he'd said it again.
Except... Oh fuck this. He shrugged and headed for the study and his laptop. Then stopped and swore again, because the fucking power was out and even if the laptop battery was good for four hours, the net connection wouldn't work. He hesitated.
Looked back, and hesitated some more.
Chris, Vin and Ezra were talking ATF stuff. That bug had to be something to do with their job, even if it wasn't the case they were working on right now. At any rate, it didn't involve him; it didn't matter if they didn't involve him.
Yeah, pull the other one, Dunne.
He drew a deep breath. He wanted to be adult and mature about it. He should keep out of their way. Ezra'd probably prefer him to be somewhere else while he went under anyway. Wasn't that what Buck had meant? No inconvenient boy friends for the crooks to find. Maybe he could go visit with Casey, she'd been asking him to come over. He could head into town and work at the math school's lab until Ez let him know it was safe to come back.
Hell, he could stay in Denver itself a couple of nights. For that matter, if he wanted to, he didn't need charity. He could afford to stay at one of the really swanky hotels if he wanted to. That sounded kinda fun actually.
He glanced back at the living room and the rapid discussion. That would be best. He should make himself scarce anyway. Buck had said as much. Ezra wouldn't want to have to explain a boyfriend to anyone investigating him during the op. He might as well just go take Casey up on her offer of a place to stay for a couple of weeks. Days. A couple of days, he corrected himself with a sinking feeling.
He'd just pack some things and tell Ezra.
"Hey kid, how's it hanging?"
JD startled and gripped the side of the closet before he got control of his sudden fear. He took a deep breath then turned, casually dropping his filled backpack on the carpet. "All right. You okay?" he said easily. "When did you get here?"
"Few minutes ago." Buck was holding something that look almost like a radio, and JD cocked his head curiously. "Wanna see?" Buck tilted the screen towards JD. When JD took a step closer his eyes crinkled up in a smile. "This here's a bug finder. And I'm doing a proper sweep of the place to check you boys don't have any more roaches, if you see what I mean."
JD nodded in comprehension. Buck lifted it towards the ceiling and walked slowly around the room, then quartered it in slow, patient steps. "Anything?"
"Probably not, but just in case --" he put a finger to his lips for silence. "Still, those roaches, you never know. Sometimes, we have to get right into the walls just to be sure. Pull the place to pieces."
JD grinned. "Ez's gonna love that." Buck managed to make it seem ordinary and fixable. Not like the others with their sudden secrets and dark, formless air of threat and menace.
Buck waggled his eyebrows. "I like to be thorough." And he tapped thoughtfully on the wall, then proceeded to tap his way around the bedroom. "What you doing skulking up here anyway?"
JD shrugged glumly. "They needed some alone time to talk federal agent type stuff." Buck looked at him, and those dark eyes seemed to take in far more than he wanted seen.
"Hmm." Buck finished tapping around the walls and was examining the light fittings. He didn't look up, engrossed in turning Ezra's bedside light upside down and shaking it. "You and Ez had that talk yet?"
JD scowled. "Nah. We -- we're getting to it."
"Uh huh."
"That's right."
"Okay then."
"Good."
"Well, guess you'd better get to it pretty soon," Buck said mildly, and walked across the precisely made bed to the other light, leaving oval dints in the immaculate comforter. He dropped to a sitting position and grinned a little as he bounced. "Nice bed."
JD blushed.
"That your bag over there?" Buck jerked his heads towards the stuffed backpack, a pair of jeans hanging out the top.
"Yeah." He didn't quite dare look up at first, but when there was no reply, he snuck a glance at Buck. Buck was unscrewing the base of the lamp, all his attention on the tiny screw and screwdriver. "I just thought -- if he's going under? And I'm going to be in the way. And there's bugs and stuff, so--"
"If Lassiter's bugged him," Buck said calmly, looking at him, "then he already knows far too much and the op's a failure already. You ain't going to make no difference to it."
JD blinked. Oh. Oh. He and Ez -- and there'd been several phone calls when -- and... He could feel his face burning, and hunched his shoulder as Buck chuckled richly.
"There's federal regulations on that sort of talk you know, kid," he laughed, and JD half turned away.
"Whatever," he muttered. Jeeze. He'd been careful not to call any phone except Ezra's designated personal cell after the mistake of calling Larabee the first time. And now it seemed someone had been recording those anyway. Abruptly he felt sick. "You find anything?"
Buck's eyebrows twitched together, as though surprised. "No. Looks pretty clean to me."
JD nodded. "I could go stay with friends."
"You running away?" Buck asked bluntly. "Didn't take you for chicken."
"I ain't! I just -- I thought it would be best, you know?"
"I don't know. You talk to Ezra about it first. And start by asking him what he wants or he'll tell you to do whatever you want."
JD bit the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit that didn't really help but at least wasn't totally obvious. "Okay."
Ezra was turning his cell phone over in his hands, staring at it. "And I'm saying that it isn't," he said flatly.
"Ezra," Chris sounded almost sympathetic which was worse than him sounding angry. "This isn't about your feelings; it's about how well you know him. He's into all this technology, he's jumped into bed with you, no offense, and we barely know anything about him."
"I know that he wouldn't do this," Ezra said hardily and looked up. "Why will you not trust my judgment on this one thing?"
"You know why." No hint of reprieve. "Look, either I question him now, informally, and we accept that he's innocent in this, or I make a federal case of it. Literally. You really want that?"
He tried one last time, "I assure you--"
"Ezra..." Chris rubbed a weary hand over his face and left it there for a long moment, propping his head as he sighed.
"For what it's worth, Ezra," Vin said quietly, "I think you're right. It's just a matter of checking his story."
Ezra looked down helplessly, staring at his hands folded quietly in his lap, and wondered how the hell it had come to this. "Can't we investigate the obvious avenues first?"
"Ez, he is the obvious avenue. Hell, if Travis knew he'd be sending in another team and pulling us off this." Chris paused, "Ezra, we're trying to help you."
"But not JD."
"We don't know him." And so they came back to the simple, irrefutable truth. They didn't know JD; Ezra was running on instinct; it could all be the way Vin and Chris made it sound.
Would Maude set him up like that? In a heart beat, if she thought it would be good for him. And Donna had said it herself: 'John really thinks he could do anything to pay off that debt'. Could Maude have gotten to the kid before the auction ever happened? Taken a chance that Ezra would like what he saw? His instincts insisted no, JD couldn't do that to him; was not capable of playing a part -- playing him -- so thoroughly, so heartlessly.
What if he was wrong? It wouldn't be the first time a man had believed the insistent clamor of his heart over the advice of good, well-meaning friends, and lived to regret it.
He looked up, and knew that he'd lost all hope when he saw JD standing in the hall, staring at him, dark eyes anxious, hopeful. A packed bag at his feet.
JD wanted out.
He'd been a fool.
"Ezra?"
"A moment please?" He stood and walked into the hall, then the kitchen. Perhaps JD would follow. Perhaps he would just get enough space to regroup. Footsteps behind him. Perhaps.
"John?" he asked, without turning around.
"Ezra." A hand tentatively touched his arm, and when he didn't respond, withdrew. "Ez, look, if I'm in the way I can--"
Was that what the stupid boy was thinking? Relief overwhelmed all other thoughts. He turned and gripped JD's upper arms. "For a man of science in pursuit of his third degree you are quite remarkably dim sometimes." He shook him slightly. JD's face softened, the hardness of a jaw clenched, shoulders braced against some inchoate fear easing and dissipating. JD ducked his head, looked away from him.
"I thought you'd want me out of here," he mumbled.
"What the hell for?" He was half prepared to hear him say something about over hearing Chris just now, and so was completely thrown. JD snatched a look at him.
"Buck said you were going undercover and you wouldn't be able to have anyone around to compromise that and I was going to get you killed if I didn't wise up, and--"
Buck? "JD. JD, slow down. When was this?" If he hadn't been holding onto JD so tightly he rather thought his hands would have been shaking, so angry was he.
"Yesterday. Ez, I don't want you to get hurt--"
"Whereas I have an almost overwhelming desire to get Buck Wilmington hurt," he said through gritted teeth. JD winced and tugged a little at his grip, and Ezra loosened it, but didn't let go. He didn't mean to leave bruises, though he suspected that he had, his skin was so pale, and marked so readily. Not the moment for that. First, deal with the look in JD's eyes. "I was going to talk it through with you tomorrow," he put all the sincerity he could find into the words. John had to believe him. For once, he didn't care about anything else, about odds or outcomes or alternate eventualities. There was only one acceptable outcome here. "Don't go."
Although he hadn't quite meant to be that honest. The waver in his voice was unfeigned, and he found it hard to hold JD's eyes for some reason; something about not leaving any walls in the way of regaining the trust that he hadn't realized he wanted so badly.
JD touched his face, brushing the back of his fingers lightly against Ezra's cheek, leaving a lingering sense of presence and tenderness, an aftertouch of love. "He said you'd have to go undercover."
"Maybe." Ezra looped his hands loosely around JD's waist. "If the listening device is for Lassater's benefit, then there's no point. But even if I went under, that's no reason for you to leave."
"Buck said that." His voice was a little muffled, with his face resting as it was against Ezra's shoulder. Ezra pressed his cheek against the damp hair tickling at his jaw line.
"I was going to explain, I promise." Though he had no idea how he'd been going to explain. It occurred to him that if JD had left, just temporarily, it would have been the best solution all around. Well, except for the idea of his absence making him feel unreasonably depressed. It wasn't as though he wasn't ever coming back. He caught himself biting his lip and stopped. And that was a trick he'd picked up from his lover. He frowned at JD, who didn't look up and so didn't see.
"Okay."
Much too trusting. "Ow!" JD stepped back and punched him in the chest.
"So what were you thinking?" JD snapped, and Ezra blinked.
"Mostly, I was hoping to have a weekend full of enjoying every variation of being with you that I could find."
JD kissed him, then swatted him again. "You're an idiot, you know?"
"A little less physical abuse would be appreciated."
JD smiled faintly. "Ez, even I know you're stalling."
Ezra ducked his head in agreement. "Why do we have these discussions in the kitchen?" he asked. "I have a perfectly good collection of really quite comfortable furniture in almost every other room of the house."
He felt JD's laughter before he heard it, "What?" he asked suspiciously.
"Kitchen table was pretty comfortable last time you sat on it," JD said, his amusement bubbling up with wicked glee, "if I remember correctly, you fell asleep on it."
Ezra felt his skin flushing, not from embarrassment so much as -- JD shifted against him and it was immediately clear that he was not the only one thinking fondly of alternative uses of the kitchen furniture.
"Now's not a good time," he suggested half heartedly, and was vaguely disappointed when JD shifted back a ways. Just far enough that he felt obliged to get a hold of himself. "Okay. Are we good?"
JD nodded. "Yeah, but it doesn't mean I should stay."
Ezra suppressed the urge to tear his hair out or punch something -- preferably his boss. "Chris wants to talk to you."
"What for?"
"I think it would be better if you talk to Chris."
JD frowned. "Look, I don't mind. I get that you guys are all Law and Order and CSI: Denver and you know, super cops or something. If you want me to get out till you've solved the crime and stuff, I can deal. Really; it's okay."
"I'd almost think you were protesting too much. And there's not much forensic analysis involved in my job. It's not like on TV you know."
"I know," JD said impatiently, but Ezra suspected the kid didn't really believe him. He'd seen his shock when he and Vin had pulled their guns earlier. "Look, you're really okay with me staying here while you're undercover?"
"You told him?" Chris's voice behind them was ice cold, and JD's eyes went wide.
"Buck told me, Ezra didn't say a word, I--"
"I would have told him, yes, if Mr. Wilmington had not seen fit to forestall me."
"Ezra!" JD hissed.
"I see." Larabee raked his eyes over the two of them. "Standish, I can carry on from here."
Ezra stiffened. Not in his lifetime. "I think I would rather stay."
"I think you'd rather leave. Vin!" Vin appeared a moment later, looking disapproving. Ezra couldn't be sure what was causing the frown and narrowed eyes, and pulled JD in to his side. "Get him out of here."
"What's going on?" JD asked, looking from one to the other of them. "Why can't Ezra stay?"
"Because I said so."
"Well, isn't it his home?" JD's defiance was nine tenths bravado, and Ezra's arm tightened as Chris held the kid's gaze. "Isn't it? And if you're gonna interrogate me, don't I get the right to an attorney or something?"
"Don't fuck with me, kid," Chris said softly. "You won't like the results."
"You arresting me? Is that it? What's your fucking problem? Pick on a guy just cuz he's gay and dating one of your boys? I thought you were the good guys." He flung a scathing look that encompassed Vin and an anxious looking Buck who was hurrying into the kitchen after them as well as Chris. "Seems I was wrong."
Ezra could feel the tension in JD, and the fine faint tremors that belied his tough attitude. "You have to admit, he asks some interesting questions." Ezra said mildly. He warned JD into silence with a shake of his head as he heard him draw a breath to speak again. "What exactly is the problem here?"
JD shifted uncomfortably. "JD?"
To Ezra's surprise it was Vin who spoke. "Chris, I really think you're making a mistake."
"Yeah? And what makes you think that?"
Vin shook his head slowly. "Look at 'em, Chris." There was a long silence and Ezra felt tremors run right through him when he saw the fractional slump in Chris's shoulders before the man even spoke, he knew they'd won, if not the whole battle, at least a breathing space.
"Vin." JD spoke before Chris could. "Tell him."
Tell him? Ezra glared at Vin, who smiled faintly at him.
"It was Maude's money," Vin said, meeting Chris's eyes. Ezra blinked.
Chris glanced at him. "That true?"
"Yes." True enough.
"How'd the kid know her?"
"I--"
"He doesn't. The money was transferred through a third party," Vin said for him -- true, but not the whole of the truth. He watched in startled awe the delicate edifice constructed from layer upon layer of hearsay and near-truth, and hoped it would hold.
"That so? Maude." Chris's voice was amused rather than arctic, and Ezra thought, with a little good fortune, the worst might be over. "You could have just said."
Ezra looked at him, incredulous, and a small smile appeared and disappeared so fast from his boss's face that he wondered if he'd imagined it.
"Were you ever going to tell us?" Buck asked. He was still clutching the device for spotting more wiretaps and other listening devices, and Ezra spared a moment to wonder if this was entirely wise, or safe. Perhaps a little late to worry about it.
Ezra offered a half smile. "Would you?"
"Doesn't sound much like Maude," Buck said thoughtfully. "Giving cash away to her son's boyfriend."
Ezra shrugged. "I have never attempted to discover the motivations of my mother. It seems a path fraught with danger, and doomed to failure."
Buck laughed, "You might have a point at that." There was a long pause, and everyone's eyes gravitated to Chris.
"Well?" Ezra said.
"That your bag back there, kid?" Vin asked.
JD nodded. "I thought it might be simpler if I--"
"No," Ezra protested, seeing the look in Chris's eye. "He doesn't have to go, I don't want--"
"You've got a point. Sure make life simpler if we don't have to account for you," Chris said directly to JD. "You got somewhere you can stay for a few days or you need a place?"
JD nodded. He seemed calm enough, but his hand wrapped around Ezra's, painfully tightly. "Got a friend. Casey Wells."
Chris's eyebrows raised briefly. "Okay then, we'll do it that way."
Ezra looked at Vin and Buck. Vin agreed with Chris. He could see that he knew how Ezra felt about it, was even sympathetic, but he wasn't going to let Ezra's personal life overall good sense about the job. Buck looked torn.
"Chris, isn't there another way. It doesn't seem fair to--"
Buck, the romantic. Ezra shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure he could bear to drag this out, hearing the arguments of his own heart flayed apart by logic and proper procedure.
"It's ok." JD spoke first. His grip on Ezra tightened. "I get -- I'd rather you were safe." It was patent on his face how very much he minded, and Ezra shifted slightly. There had to be another way.
"If nothing else," Vin said slowly, "whoever it was, knows about JD. Might be worth taking him out of the equation anyway. Be safest."
JD sat quietly in the corner of Buck's truck, his bag on the seat between them. Buck had looked at him and then put the radio on, flipping channels until he found something upbeat and cheerful to drown the near palpable misery.
The kid was looking out of the window. All it needed was for it to be fucking raining, Buck thought morosely. And how come he got cast as the bad guy in this damn story, anyway? But the sky, ashamed of the earlier storm, was clear, the stars twinkling, oblivious to JD's mood.
That was stars for you. He tried to think of something to say, but really, the kid didn't look like he wanted cheering up. All the more reason.
"So, you straighten things out with him?"
JD shrugged, didn't answer.
"A little absence -- nothing like getting together after a separation," he tried, with a cheerfully innuendo filled grin.
JD glanced at him and a smile tugged at his mouth. Heartened Buck added, "It'll just be a little while, you'll see."
"Really?"
And oh, that was pathetic, really, in a good way, he added to himself, young love, so needy and -- he wondered if he ever looked that eager to see a girl. Wondered if anyone had been that eager to see him, and felt a stab of something that couldn't possibly be envy. No.
"Yeah," he said easily. "Ez is the best I've ever seen at this stuff; no question of it. We just wind him up and let him go."
JD looked sharply at him, and Buck thought for a moment the kid was going to say something, but all that came out was, "Well, that would explain it."
"Explain what?"
But JD wouldn't say, and Buck gave up asking after a while, and switched subjects.
"You known Casey long?"
JD smiled, "A while. Met her at the Gee -- at some party or other."
"Gee?" Buck blinked a little, and JD bit his lip.
"Just a party."
"Uhuh." Something to get out of the girl later. In his mind's eye Nettie gave him a cold, hard stare. Maybe some other time. Ah, next turn off. He flipped the indicator up. "You eaten today?"
JD shook his head. Of course not. Power cut, all this excitement. "I'm not hungry."
Buck looked at him. "Sure you ain't."
"I'm not."
"I'm agreeing with ya, ain't I?" he said mildly, and turned into the parking lot. "You can wait here."
JD stared at the fast food restaurant, and then at Buck's grin. Buck inhaled deeply, his eyes closing with sheer sybaritic rapture. "Mmmm. Fries." He undid his seatbelt and hopped out of the truck, slammed the door and then stuck his head back through the window. "You sure you don't want anything?"
JD sighed and bit contentedly into a loaded burger, his eyes closing blissfully. "Mf g'df," he mumbled.
Buck smiled into his coffee, and shrugged. "Don't tell Ez, but times, we stop off here after poker night. Just to get a square meal after all those damn nachos and dips."
JD grinned, swallowed, and laughed. "Yeah? He told me he didn't cook."
"Menial labor," Buck nodded, and pushed the side of onion rings towards him. "Go on, I'm done."
"Thanks." JD hooked one, and stripped it of batter then sucked in the onion. Then slowly picked out the bits of batter from his plate and crunched his way through them one by one. He loved the batter.
"Cooking's an art, and you reduce it to its component parts. Can tell you're a scientist," Buck observed, his voice bland, but when JD looked at him, his eyes were dancing with amusement.
"Engineers are worse," JD said.
"It's just a matter of degree," Buck shook his head, and JD wondered if he'd meant the pun. He considered the broadening grin, and laughed.
"Yes! He shoots!" He scores!" Buck cheered softly, chuckling at JD's smile. "That's better."
JD shrugged. "You don't give up, do you?"
Buck looked thoughtful, and was quiet for nearly half a minute before shaking his head decisively. "Nope."
JD sighed, but couldn't repress the lingering smile. "He's gonna be okay, right?"
Buck's face became solemn. "He's always been okay so far. We don't aim to mess up that perfect record just yet."
This wasn't as comforting as JD had hoped.
"Did you call Casey already?" Buck said abruptly.
"Yeah -- I couldn't just turn up."
"Hmm."
"Why?"
"I was thinking. If you wanted, I've got a spare room. Usually pour -- put Chris in it, but you're welcome to it for a while."
JD cocked a look at him, he hadn't missed that 'poured'. Ezra had said Chris had a drinking problem too. He bit his lip. Was Ezra safe with an alkie for a boss?
"Well?"
"I've already agreed with Casey--"
"You'd be safer at my place. Better not dragging more people into it."
JD couldn't deny that. The thought of someone storming through the hundred year old Wells farmhouse made a shiver run through him.
"You'd be in town. Easier to get to school," Buck added. "Might be easier to meet up with Ezra in the city. Easier to lose a tail in a crowded street."
JD bit his lip. "You'd tell Ez?"
"Sure."
Keeping all this away from Casey and her aunt was a plan worth pursuing. "Nettie'd plug anyone who tried anything."
"Maybe. But I've got a badge as well as a licensed side arm." JD stopped picking at the bits of batter, the grease sitting queasily in his stomach.
"Meaning, that badge gives you the right to kill," he said flatly.
"Meaning, if someone shoots at me, I know what to do. Better me than a little old lady who's been shooting for subsistence the last forty years. Better me than a little girl who's barely started living."
"What if they shoot me?" JD asked curiously and Buck grinned wickedly at him.
"Oh, hell, if it's you I'll let 'em."
"Gee. Thanks," he said, but couldn't repress a smile, and Buck nodded.
"Good boy. Now eat that, and I'll call 'em when we get to my place. Okay?"
JD nodded. "Okay."
"Well, okay then. Now. Let's discuss the house rules."
JD laughed. "Rules? Ez told me he calls that place of yours flea central."
Buck looked hurt, "Eat your damn burger, son." He managed to hold the pose for nearly long enough to convince JD that he'd genuinely offended the man -- and then scratched surreptitiously under the cuff of his sweater. JD choked with laughter.
"House rules." JD spluttered.
"Flea central!"
JD was still chuckling off and on half an hour later when they pulled into the parking lot for Buck's condo.
Back | m7 slash
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.