A/N: This is slash people! Consider yourself warned. Jack/Chase and Jack/OMC. Just read it.

A blonde woman in a UCLA sweater opened the door into the hotel room. Vin made sure to cant his hips to the side as he leaned against the door frame. Giving her a slow, sexy smile, he drawled, "I heard there was a lovely lady in need of company…"

With an imperious gesture, the woman cut him off and ushered him inside. Shrugging, it was her money after all, Vin dropped the Casanova act in favor of a more business-like manner. "This is suite 321, and you did call for an escort, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," the woman's voice was flat, "you're in the right place. Hold on a second." She walked over to the black duffel laying on the floor and dug out a bundle of clothes. Walking back over, she shoved the cloth into his arms, "Put these on."

It seemed tonight he was going to get down and dirty fast. Vin began to strip. Arching his back, he drew his shirt over his head and showed off the lean muscles of his torso. Dropping the black mesh top on the ground, he looked over to find his client looking away. The tips of her ears were flushed red. "There's a bathroom, you know," she snapped at him, keeping her eyes averted.

Puzzled, Vin retreated to the bathroom. Leaving the door open a crack, he asked, "Excuse me, but what exactly is going on." The woman wasn't acting like she had called for him. He could hear her moving around the room, doing something.

"I called you up for a friend." Her explanation sounded annoyed, as if he should already have figured out what was going on.

Vin nodded. Without the audience he'd reverted to taking off his clothes normally. He pulled on the clothes the woman gave him, plain white boxers, loose black pants, a tight black t-shirt, and a loose black jacket. Once he was dressed he exited the bathroom with his clothes, neatly folded, in hand.

The room had been changed. The bag was gone, as was the shirt he'd left on the floor. A pair of socks and black combat boots had been left on the bed. Dim light trickled from the only lit lamp. Hustling forward, the blonde took his other clothes from him and stowed them out of sight in a drawer. Looking over, she said, "You can have those if you want."

"Okay," Vin said, surprised.

Pointing at the footwear on the bed, she ordered, "Put those on." While Vin complied, she pulled out a vest-like thing and a holster with a gun. Looking up after finishing the knots on his shoes, Vin protested, "Whoa. Hey, lady, look…."

Rolling her eyes, she groused, "It's not loaded. Take the jacket off and come here. Almost used to brusque attitude, Vin stood patiently while she strapped on the Kevlar vest and arrange the holster properly on his belt. Taking a step, she turned a critical eye on her handiwork.

Finally she declared, "Not perfect. But if you keep the lights dim you'll do." As she applied the final touch, a black leather band around his left wrist, she gave him marching orders. "You can call him Jack. He'll be calling you Chase. Just do as he says and don't ask questions. Whatever you do, don't be afraid. No matter how rough it's getting, just say his name a couple of times and he'll back off. He won't actually hurt you." That seemed to be the extent of her advice. With a last glance at him, she left the room, adding, "He's had a bad week," over her shoulder.

Vin leaned against the wall and exhaled. He wasn't quite sure what to think. The blonde obviously knew what she was talking about. But if she did, why wasn't Jack going to her rather than forking over cash for a prostitute. Figuring it was none of his business, he sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.

The dim lighting made the room seem smaller and more distant. Vin found himself drawn into a drowsy trance as he watched the steady flicker of the ancient bulb. There were footsteps outside the door, a soft shush as it opened, and the low grumble of a man's voice. The tall, broad frame of a man stood silhouetted against the harsh light of the hotel halls. A sharp hiss of an indrawn breath reached his ears. With a clunk the door swung shut.

For a long moment, the client stood in the dark watching Vin. Feeling unnerved by the gaze, no less intense for being unseen, Vin asked, "Jack?"

"Chase," Jack's voice was low and hoarse. "Chase, what are you doing here?"

Playing along, Vin answered hesitantly, "I got a call…"

With a groan, Jack walked over and collapsed on the bed next to Vin. "Chloe," he growled. "Figures."

Vin jumped in to defend, who he assumed was, the blonde. "She said you had a bad week. Wannae talk about it?"

A sharp bark of humorless laughter was followed by, "No, not really." Lying back on the bed, Jack scrubbed his hands over his face. "I've had a fucking long week, Chase. You know how it gets. Just so fucking long."

Imbuing his voice with as much empathy and sympathy as possible, Vin replied, "Don't I, Jack." Wondering exactly what he was expected to do now, Vin decided to go with the flow. He reached over and began to rub slow, soothing circles on Jack's shoulder with one hand. Jack sighed deeply and leaned into the touch.

Since it seemed to be effective, Vin moved closer to Jack. Thigh pressing against the other man's side, he reached down and began a neck massage. Long, hard strokes forced knots and kinks out of the wiry muscles. Moaning in pleasure, Jack sank father into the bed, as Vin continued to work on his neck and shoulders.

Once the tension was mostly dissipated, Jack sat up to find himself face to face with Vin. The escort felt himself being drawn into the turbulent blue eyes, glittering brightly with too much drink and not enough comfort. A broad, calloused hand brushed against his check leaving a streak of warmth. Without thinking about it, Vin drew the older man into his arms and pressed his lips against the close cropped hair. "Hey, now, Jack. I bet I can make that week a little shorter for you." His offer was real, as opposed to the ones he usually made. This client would be an easy one to be with.

Strong arms wrapped tightly around Vin's lean torso. Jack clung to the younger man with all of his strength, moving his face from where it rested, at the junction of neck and shoulder, to press kisses to every bit of skin he could reach.

The encounter took on a more frantic tone. Vin found himself shoved flat on the bed with Jack looming over him. "Chase," the older man whispered as he pressed open mouth kisses to every uncovered bit, "Chase, Chase, Chase." Vin was crushed against the broad chest in a protective embrace. "You're okay, we're okay," Jack reassured himself. "We're okay."

"Jack," Vin grunted painfully. "Hey, Jack. You're crushing my ribs here, buddy." Laughing, Jack eased up.

The older man pulled his side arm and holster and set it on the table next to the bed, then did the same with Vin's. "I think I'll take you up on that offer Chase," he growled playfully. "But first thing, vest and shoes." Grinning at each other, the men rolled around and banged together as they removed there bullet-proof vests, socks, and boots. After that was finished, Jack snagged Vin and dragged him against himself once more. Burying his nose the crook of the younger man's neck, he breathed, "My partner. My Chase."

A lump grew in Vin's throat. The affection, sheer need, in the man's words made him feel like an imposter. Of course, that's exactly what he was. A stand in for someone Jack really cared about. He reached down and squeezed Jack's hand, before drawing gently away and peeling his shirt off.

Rolling over, he faced Jack with a smile. Jack's pale eyes shone softly in murkiness, roving over the flat planes of Vin's chest, but focusing mostly on his face. A tentative hand came up and rubbed lightly over hardening nubs. Vin arched into the touch, moaning his appreciation.

Something hot and feral flashed through Jack's eyes at the sound. In a swift move, Vin was on his back with Jack straddling his hips. The younger man's eyes widened with something akin to panic when he saw the wild gleam. When his wrists were seized and pinned roughly over his head, Vin recalled Chloe's advice, "Jack, Jack. Slow down. Hey, Jack, we've got time."

After a moments coaxing, Jack relaxed and released Vin's wrists, pulling his shirt off instead. Leaning over, he rested on his elbows framing Vin's head. Vin's hands rubbed light circles up and down his biceps. For the first time that night, Jack leaned in and pressed his lips against the other man's.

Normally, Vin didn't have a problem with kissing, but this was different. At first, the escort had thought that Jack was just imagining very hard. But the sweet smell of whiskey on the older man's breath and the raw emotion in his voice brought Vin to the realization that Jack actually believed he was with Chase. The revelation made his stomach churn unpleasantly. It also explained why Chloe had been so specific about the appearance of the man she was hiring. She was probably the one who got Jack drunk in the first place.

It seemed wrong to kiss a man who was so obviously in love with someone else. Right now, Vin just wanted with charade to be over with. He turned his head away from Jack's questing mouth. His action drew a concerned, "Chase, what's wrong?"

Vin was uncomfortable, but not vindictive. Jack didn't need to know the truth. Pasting a smile on his face, he replied, "It's nothing, Jack. I just realized I have to go soon."

"Oh." Disappointed, Jack rolled off him and turned his back. "I guess you better get dressed then."

Feeling slightly guilty, Vin reached over and remarked, "I didn't say now. I said soon. Come're Jack."

The older man went willingly back into Vin's arms. With practiced ease, the escort aroused the man, avoiding mouth to mouth contact. Finally dragging himself down to undo Jack's pants.

It was quick, professional, and impersonal. Quick mainly because Jack hadn't been with someone in awhile. Vin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and zipped Jack back up. Clumsy hands, from the mixture of the alcohol and endorphins, groped at Vin lightly, obviously trying to return the favor. But the younger man was still haunted by the soft whispers uttered during the blow job. Cursing and pleas interspaced with soft declarations that sounded a lot like love. Too much like love for Vin.

"Go to sleep, Jack," he whispered. "I got to head out, now."

A hand gently caught his wrist. "Stay for a bit?"

Eyes burning, Vin shook his head negative. "Sorry, but duty calls." Jack released him with a mournful sigh.

As Vin stood and collected his clothes from the drawer, he found his hands were shaking. He shoved his feet into loafers and slid on the leather jacket he arrived in, zipping it up all the way. Before he left, he turned to see Jack dozing on the bed. The peaceful scene in his mind's eye he fled the room.

Chloe was waiting in the hotel bar. When Vin appeared, she scowled. "I paid you for the whole night."

"He's asleep," Vin informed her bluntly. "I stayed with him tell then."

Nodding reluctantly, Chloe accepted the deal. "Fine. Can you do this again?"

Vin's reply was sharp. "No. Find someone else next time. Or even better, find the real Chase."

Chloe's expression crumpled. Looking into her glass, she whispered, "I wish I could."

Her reaction was the final straw. Unnerved and confused, Vin retreated from the hotel, hailing a cab to get him to his apartment.