Commissioner Berkley Rose leaned against his rather fluffy pillow and read his book, completely ignoring the naked man beside him. That is, until the naked man lit up a cigarette.

"I told you not to smoke in bed." He formerly stated, not looking up from 'The Scarlet Letter'.

Drake sighed. "You also told me not to smoke anywhere near your damn plants, in the bathroom, the kitchen, or the living room."

"I'm glad you were listening. Now obey." This time Rose spared him a brief glance.

"Then where am I supposed to smoke?" Drake yelled.

"Lower your voice, Parker. And you're not."

"…."

Rose kept reading, completely unaware of the other man's glare, until he felt something poking his side.

Again.

"Parker, stop it."

And again.

"Stop. Now."

And again.

Rose sighed and pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What exactly do you think poking me will accomplish?"

Drake paused to think. "I'm hoping it will remind you that I went with you to the boring opera, bought you a glass of wine, and let you be on top."

Rose twitched. "You didn't 'let' me be on top! I had to get out the handcuffs!"

"All the same you can at least let me enjoy a cigarette."

"No."

Poke. Smack.

"Ow!" Drake rubbed his head. "That hurt!"

The commissioner set his book down, completely aware he wasn't going to finish the chapter that morning anyway. "I must wonder if Detective McLean has to suffer this."

"Ryo's fine. It's you who'll be without a fuck-toy if you smack me again." Drake threatened.

Berkley Rose blinked and turned to face him. "Fuck-toy? Is that what you are?"

"Given that I'm in an illicit homosexual relationship with my superior officer in which neither of us has feelings for the other and we're really just using each other as a cheaper alternative to prostitutes I'd call myself a fuck-toy."

Rose arched a slender eyebrow. "You're not as dumb as you look, Parker."

"Gee, thanks."

"Put out the cigarette."

"No." Rose raised his hand threateningly. "Fine. God, and we just solved a case involving domestic abuse too!"

"Discipline isn't abuse." Berkley got up and retrieved his plain, black boxers from where they were neatly folded on his lounge chair.

"Spanking is discipline. Hitting is abuse." Drake argued, sitting up to look for his own boxers. By the time he found them, Rose was completely dressed in loose, casual black slacks and a dark blue cotton shirt. "Hey!"

"What is it?"

"Did you hear me?"

Berkley silently counted to ten. "Fine. Next time you smoke in my apartment I'll find my leather belt."

Drake found his jeans and began searching for his shirt. "Next time? You mean this wasn't a month-long stand?"

Berkley slipped on his shoes and paused. "Let's be blunt. I know I'm just replacement sex for Sandy or Mandy or whatever her name was. Likewise, you know you're just replacement sex for Ryo."

Drake nodded and pulled the nondescript, light blue t-shirt over his head. "Yeah."

"So it doesn't make sense for either of us to get emotionally involved in this."

"Ok. Works for me."

"Nor is there any reason for this to affect our professional lives."

"I can see it now: 'Hey, everybody! Remember how the commissioner got blown off by Ryo? Remember how Candy dumped me? Well, purely by chance we both got drunk at the same bar and ended up going back to his apartment, thus starting a really lousy affair in which I can't smoke. Is everyone ok with me screwing my chain of command?' Yeah, that'd go over real well, Commissioner."

"Don't get smart." Rose warned. "There is no reason for this affect our professional lives or for us to get emotionally involved."

Drake took one last drag of his cigarette before standing up and going to the bathroom to flush it. The commissioner did not smoke and thus didn't posses any ashtrays. "Ok…so we'll just keep using each other for meaningless albeit good sex." The detective rubbed the back of his neck.

Berkley didn't answer that. Instead he grabbed his knee-length, wool coat and left. "Lock the door when you leave."

Drake fought back the urge to pick up the nearby potted tulip and chuck it at its caregiver. But when the apartment door clicked shut he simply grabbed a half-finished beer left over from the night before and downed it. When he left, five minutes later, he decided to piss off Berkley and not lock the door.

Author's notes- Well that was depressing. Now, before the flames start burning down my house let me explain. I have not yet seen 'Like Like Love', the epilogue to Fake. I do not know where to find it, hence it will completely ignored for the duration of this li'l ole

fanfic.

There will be a back story on Drake's break-up with Candy. And I will go further into depth on what these two are doing with each other.

Fake and all its characters belong to the creator.