Title: Playground Politics

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters obviously, but sorry if it's pants.

Warning: Slash, UST, and class war implications.

Notes: Another Law & Order: UK fanfic, starring Sam Casey and Jacob Thorne. They are my new ship because of their rough, push and shove tension filled conversations.

For FreekyDisaster18

Really sorry if it's crap. But if you do like it, review :)

I knocked on the door of the flat and waited in the brisk night air. Taking two steps away from the porch, hearing movement from inside, meaning the occupant was in and willing to open the door. I looked to the ground with my jaw clenched and hands in my black suit trouser pockets. The shiny blue painted door opened and light streamed out illuminating the path. I raised my head and looked straight at Senior Crown Prosecutor Jacob Thorne. His face was neutral but I could tell he was reading me from his eyes. He was treating me like a suspect and I hadn't even opened my mouth!

'Sorry I undermined you in court, I shouldn't have' I said, shuffling, and suddenly feeling about ten years old. I never had a dad, not really, and now I know why. Mum had a few boyfriends that came and went, and she was too lenient with me. I was beginning to get pissed off by the fact.

'No. You shouldn't have. I don't take lightly to people who make me look stupid in court, Detective'

'I don't know what else to say,' I muttered, now looking somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulders, trying to work out what that black and white photo was on the hallway wall.

'So, you regret it then? Are you handing in your letter of resignation?' Jake asked two questions in the space of two seconds.

I looked straight at him, feeling my eyes blazing.

'Yes I regret it. No I'm not' I replied, rocking slightly on the balls of my feet. The cold wind air blew and I hugged my jacket closer to me through the pockets.

'DI Chandler certainly sees something in you,' and I could hear the grit of condescension in his voice but also something else. Something I couldn't decrypt, that Jake wasn't letting me access.

'Can't think what'

'For God's sake Casey, put up a fight about it' he said. I blinked, and laughed a hash, humourless laugh. Taking my hands out of my pockets, rubbing my eyes, still laughing darkly, although it had reduced to a rumble in the back of my throat now.

'Y'know, that's exactly what I needed as a kid' I said past my hands. When I let my palms fall back to my sides, Jake's expression had softened slightly.

'I can tell you were never the boy to come home on time' and I bit my lip, nodding, agreeing.

'Yeah' I answered.

Now what happened? I should get home, and leave Jake to peace. He looked very close to hitting me not six hours ago. Funny, I'm not a psychologist, but it's interesting how much you can see from looking at someone's eyes. They can fool you, hurt you, and show how disappointed they are of you. It's a trick in interrogations - people lie, but some can't get it to reach their eyes.

'Okay, come in'

I froze, stock still.

'What?'

'I'm giving your intelligence the benefit of the doubt' and right there was Prosecutor that sent down countless number of backstreet criminals, however there was also Jake who looked like he needed to wind down.

'I don't think you want to do that. Look what happened the last time I walked into someone's flat' I said honestly, trying for funny, and Jake was in the middle of a mid-turn, when he stopped and smirked.

'You can either come in and I can offer you a beer, or I can see you on Monday – if I get a proper weekend that does not include reading a pile of briefs that is already on my bed' and Jake paused, allowing me the room to back situation should be easy but it wasn't. Everything about it was tipped onto the side like a bad camera angle in b-rated TV show.

'Tell me you've got some decent beer, if you're offering?' I asked, flashing a grin.

I shut the door on my way in.

In his kitchen - which was white, modern and minimalistic - I leaned on the counter as Jake ducked to get to, what I guessed was, the fridge. He reappeared holding two bottles of San Miguel, opening one easily with the bottle opener that hung under the cupboard on a hook. So, I clearly wasn't the only one who got used to a drink after work.

'I saw you as a Becks sort of man or maybe Guinness,' I commented and he raised an eyebrow at me. 'But you're a SM man. Like me' and I hid my grin, too many people fell for the SM joke. Jake opened the other and slid it across to me, his hand still on the base of the bottle.

'Don't push it Casey' and I took the neck of the bottle, and Jake let go. If I had looked away at that moment, I would have missed the playful glint in Jake's eyes.

'With you? I'm already scared of you'

I waved both hands about, then taking a gulp from the bottle. Man, I needed that.

Yeah, that was a joke. I was more intimidated by him than scared if I was truthful with myself.

Playground-bloody-politics.

'Why does that make me feel good?' Jake asked. Lowering the bottle, I replied.

'You're a sadist. It's a good thing you're on this side of the law, really'

'Oh, we are going down that route then?' Jake asked his eyes wide, almost innocent. It was my turn to smirk.

'Whatever,' and Jake walked into his living space, though the archway that probably used to have a door but I wasn't going to mock another guy's interior design choices.

'Sam, you realise if you carry on like this, you will be demoted from the police force?' he asked, turning to face me again, and standing in the centre of his living room, directly in front of the fireplace and the widescreen TV above it.

'I know, I know. I need to wake up - quickly'

'You do, because I don't want to be disbarred for assault and battery regarding a certain ex-police officer' Jake said, and he pulled from his beer.

I smirked somewhat sheepishly.

'You'd commit A&B on me? That's harsh' I stated and Jake rolled his eyes.

Looking at him, he had a set of muscle, and had broader shoulders than I did. I would be screwed. Jake seemed like someone who would verbally abuse rather than physically, but what do I know?

'Don't worry I'm sneaky'

'Now I'm more worried to be honest, I can't tell when you're joking or not sometimes' and I collapsed onto the sofa, letting my head drop back onto the leather. Jake had begun pacing, so I lifted my head up just as he put his beer on the table and sat next to me at, not quite end, of the couch.

'Does- Kath-?' and he waited while I nodded to tell him he'd got her name correct. 'Know about all of this?' I shook my head.

'Nope, and oh god-'I groaned, pulling at my hair with my hands, still holding the bottle of San Miguel. That was all I needed. The more I thought about it, the more I mentally kicked myself at how stupid I had been.

'This might sound like incredibly terrible advice, but don't tell her. That is, unless you never want to see Ben again?' Jake asked, and I glared at him for a split second. 'There you go' he said simply.

'Why am I so bad at this?' I asked the question to myself, but Jake seemed inclined to give me an answer.

'Do you want me to go all defense counsel on you?' and I nodded once, then Jake continued. 'You didn't have a father figure, so you haven't had a sufficient role model. Therefore, inevitably, you aren't going to cope well in parental situations and ones that involve responsibility' Jake said and I couldn't disagree.

Because Jake was right, wasn't he?

'Which is exactly what's happened so far'

'If you want my opinion, I don't believe you are incompetent at using your head. You just need a bit of guidance like a puppy. Ronnie should –'

'I'm not a puppy!' I exclaimed, feeling humiliated and infantalised, and Jake - the bastard - smirked.

'Really? Because I'm not seeing anything to disaffirm that at the moment' and I raised my beer in mock salute, taking another swig.

'If I'm a puppy, you're a cocker spaniel' I retorted and laughing softly when Jake chuckled.

'There are worse dogs to be compared to –'and Jake shut his eyes. 'Reminds me of a Dangerous Dogs Case I once dealt with' and he shook his head, looking distant for a moment.

'What, did an owner not like you?' and Jake pursed his lips, looking as if he didn't want to tell me what he was about to but did so regardless.

'Not exactly. He asked me whether I was a cat person or a dog person. I said neither, I prefer people, he wasn't particularly happy about that'

I tapped the bottle rim on my bottom lip and blew hot air as I started to giggle. Jake sunk back, emitting a soft noise.

Finishing the rest of my beer, placing the bottle back on the table, I rubbed my fingers over my mouth and sighed, my eyes slipping closed.

'Why did you tell me to 'put up a fight about it'?' I asked after a moment, thinking back to when I was stood on the porch.

Jake frowned.

'When you said you couldn't think what DI Chandler saw in you?' he asked, his voice level.

'Yeah'

'Because I was always taught that if you go down, you go down fighting or gracefully; and in your case fighting is the only option' my elbows leaning on my thighs before sitting up to look back at Jake.

'So, the only way for me to leave is to go down kicking and screaming' I snarked, almost baiting.

'You can't play the system, you're too hot headed. You know that'

'Do you actually like talking to me like that?'

'I'm being as blunt as I can. You've seen me in court Sam, don't try it' he warned, so I swiveled in my seat to look at him.

'Is that a threat? What, because you've become a Prosecution Barrister you're better than me?' I stood up, slowly, watching Jake. His eyes widened, pupils dilating, and he watched my movements with curiosity and frustration.

How quickly had everything slid into something a lot more changeable and could-be-nasty? Why didn't I just go home? Why do I make the choices that I make. Well done Sam, take fucking two!

'I don't think I'm better just because I'm a barrister, I don't hate police officers in the same way some of my fellow colleagues do. I think I'm better because I've grown up - you haven't' Jake pushed himself up from the sofa, standing close, the proximity a little stuffy.

'I was right with original take on you. You're not as smart as you let on' I bit back, glaring hard at him. Jake glanced at the clock and licked his lips.

A part of me was itching to hit something, preferably Jake, and I had no idea why which pissed me off.

'I have a first from UCL. How does a boy that grew up in a Devon farmhouse, get a Law degree from one of the highest ranking universities?' he asked. 'I worked my way out, instead of being complacent with where I was' and he looked me up and down as he said so.

'You had that drive, Jake, I didn't' I said loudly, hearing an echo.

'I can see that just from your actions. Tell me, why, why didn't you push?' Jake placed his bottle down on the table, and took a step towards me, slipping his hands inside his pockets. My shoulders tensed, and from where he was, I had to look up to look directly at his face.

'I was stupid kid and no one ever told me. People let me coast'

'Well you're not so stupid now' Jake's voice had lowered an octave.

I shoved him.

Bad mistake.

One I could see the effects of straight away. Jake's entire face darkened, hardened, and it was like his court schooled expression, but there was more sparking underneath.

'You don't actually believe that though, do you?' I half shouted, anger, annoyance, frustration and every other faulty emotion possible, that was felt towards anyone around me was spitting under my skin. Jake grabbed the front of my jacket, and forcibly slammed me into the archway to the kitchen.

'I am really starting to doubt my own opinions, yes! Do you want to know why, when you were sat in the gallery, I defended you?' and I swallowed, now very aware of the heat under my skin, and Jake's hands on my shirt.

There was no getting out of this.

Just hoped nobody killed, wounded or raped anybody else, so I wouldn't have to come to blows with Jake again. It was text book that barristers and coppers rarely got on, seeing the law very differently; one on the beat the other in robes.

But with Jake and I, there was a deep rooted vengeance somewhere that just wouldn't go away. I just looked up at him, and our eyes locked into place.

'I defended you, not only in hope of saving that trial, but because I didn't actually want anyone believing you were a bad police officer!' he growled, warm breath ghosting across my mouth and cheeks. 'I care' he punctuated it with a further shove into the archway, my head bouncing lightly against the once-had-been-door-frame.

It took my head – doused with some alcohol – to register what he meant by that.

'I care about the-'but I cut him off.

Not really wanting to hear anything else. When Jake had shifted his stance, I raised a hand up, which he evidently believed I would hit him with. Assault. The thought skimmed mirthlessly across my mind. I gripped the nape of his neck, touching his black hair, and pulling him down to me.

I didn't really think this through.

At all.

So when his lips crashed against mine, the kiss was hard and angry. Jake's right hand drifted to the collar of my shirt and held on, the left securing me to the archway with his hand around my bicep.

This had to go somewhere. I felt Jake's tongue slip across my lips, asking for entrance, and so I acquiesced, then tugging at his hair.

It was a flash of heat in too little time or space. Jake bit on my bottom lip brutally, I gasped making a noise I'd never admit to. It was Power Play. It was just another way to one up each other.

I hadn't even noticed my other hand had found his belt. Jake's hand snaked upwards to the side of my neck; his nails dug into the back on my hairline, but his thumb swept across my jaw as gentle as you like. I became rougher, not liking that I was backed into a corner, pushing back. Jake growled against my mouth, and I ground my hips into his. He bit at my lips, and I pushed back trying to equal the situation out. The tang of iron, meant my lip's flesh had torn. I winced, as the slick feel of blood smeared along my mouth. I broke away with a whimper that dribbled out of my mouth, Jake's lips still hovering. We had both stopped moving, but our panting was evidence enough. I gulped and did the only thing I could think of doing right then.

I pushed away from him, and left.

'Thanks for the beer' I called, grabbing my jacket from the stand and slammed the door behind me.

What the fuck was I going to do now?

In the last five days, I slept with a murderer, and kissed a Senior Crown Prosecutor. I smacked my head on the wheel for good measure when I got in my car.