Sorry, no sex scene yet. I'm saving it. ;) Don't worry. Smut shall reveal itself. Patience children.

Bouncing into work on a Monday morning was probably the most revealing thing Russ could have done.

Over the weekend Russ and his boyfriend- yes, they were boyfriends now, the word had been used and as god awful as it sounded, Russ was really fucking pleased with himself. Russ and his boyfriend had spent the last two blissful days exploring the wonders of verbal foreplay. Russ couldn't actually remember the last time he'd had such a great orgasm, let alone three in a consecutive weekend. It had been embarrassing at first, then good, sooo damn good, then incredibly sexy. It had been such a good weekend, Russ forgot that he had a reputation for being a hardass at work.

And strutting into the office with a smile on his face and a skip in his step was as subtle as jumping up on his desk and loudly announcing "Russ Agnew is getting some!" through a megaphone.

"Good weekend?" Jacocks asked, suggestive tone in her voice. Her sour Monday-morning-mood perking up as she watched Russ practically sing a good morning to the delivery man, poor guy was red as a tomato afterword and almost stumbled into the door, flustered.

"Amazing." He smirked, "What've you got for me?"

She patted his shoulder apologetically, "Nothing too exciting. Bit of commotion over on Wendell St, woman claims her neighbor is stealing her mail." She nodded towards the door, "You and Milt wanna check it out?"

He scoffed, "Why Milt? It's a simple door knock. We don't need the FBI for everything."

He sauntered out of the office, his boyfriend's - boyfriend's - taser snugly strapped to his belt. Jacocks grinned, watching Milt trail out after him as soon as he passed the FBI office. Two peas in a pod. Shame Russ already had an internet lover. He and Milt would have made a great pair... She shrugged, chuckling to herself before silently turning back to her paperwork.

What made you first notice me?

Russ wasn't ignorant, but he knew when he was lucky. There was no way someone this freaking perfect was interested in him without upsetting some kind of balance in the universe, or some shit like that. It just didn't happen. The odds of a handsome man taking such a blatant interest in him- a shabby old cop- were odds he didn't really want to calculate. Unless of course, it was secretly some fat, middle aged man with a hair lip. That might make more sense. Or he was married... Oh God, please don't let him be married. Of course, asking that right off the bat on a Saturday night was a great way to spoil the mood. So, he opted for his second choice question.

Your eyes.

He scoffed.

My eyes? Cliché.

The ping of an alert came only a few short seconds after.

Yes, your eyes Russel. :) They pierce. I wouldn't say they age you, but they make you look wise. They shape you into someone who has seen a lot, and has many stories to tell. I'll admit, my interest in you started out as simple curiosity. I like gossip. After that, it became a game of learning more about you. I was hooked before I realized.

His cheeks were red, and the promise not to bite his nails after last week's messages was no longer in affect.

That's awfully cheesy.

You asked, I told. If you were hoping for an "I stared at your backside and thought 'He's the one'" then I think we need to straighten out your priorities.

Russ chortled, trying to imagine somebody staring at his ass all day. He'd been working on a mental image of his secret admirer for a while now, and liked the one he had. Of course, he had limited information to go off of, but that didn't stop him. Tall, dark hair, handsome... he probably had muscles. He'd once slipped in a story about free climbing to Russ, and that would have to take strength. Blue eyes... no, probably dark, with a little bit of mystery behind them...

So if I asked for a physical description? Would you tell?

The reply took a minute longer than he would have liked, but he wasn't disappointed with the content.

If you asked nicely enough. I have a little mole under my right arm if that helps with whatever weird fantasy you're trying to conjure up.

Russ snickered.

You make it sound like I'm the perverted one. Who was talking exhibitionism last Thursday?

His mind wandered back to that conversation, playing through their little role play... the way he'd described touching Russ... in such a public place...

I didn't hear you complaining.

Scratching his nose and wiggling a little in his seat, Russ debated pulling this out into something similar to that first weekend. They'd had a few more kinky sessions since then, and his weekends had become cleared in preparation for it honestly... It was just-

Russ felt excited, 18 and alive again.

And you're definitely not already married right?

Russ could almost hear the laugh in his boyfriend's reply.

Definitely not. :)

"Well..." he sighed, trying to pluck up a little courage. He liked this guy. A lot. But there was only so much you could learn about a person keeping their identity a secret. They'd briefly spoken about it, little tidbits here and there, but Russ was truly curious. He had no intention of flat out rejecting this man, but he wanted more. He wanted to meet him in person.

Now of course, there was always the chance it was some creepy 80 year old serial killer who'd been stringing him along... asking for anything more could completely shatter the little perfect world Russ had been building around this. There was always a chance that meeting would sort of- so to speak, kill the honeymoon period. This man had become his sanctuary. A safe place to talk, rant about work, Milt, life, the way he could never find a suit that properly fit, Milt.

But... he didn't know his own boyfriend's name.

And that sort of pissed him off.

So, sucking in one last air of confidence, Russ set to typing. He erased his words more times than necessary, writing and re-writing again and again. Tried a casual approach, didn't like it. The formal sentence sounded too dry and robotic. By the time he finally decided to screw 'rehearsed words' and go with the direct approach, he'd been sitting there for about twenty minutes. They'd gotten this far on bluntness, surely he wouldn't be scolded for being brash again.

Can we meet up?

A large, over emotional sigh of relief flew out of him, his heart pounding in his head as he eagerly awaited a reply. What would he be like? Would Russ really like the way he looked? Of course, looks didn't matter that much but if he was hot, I mean, Russ wouldn't mind. His grin became brighter the more he thought about it. Maybe they'd meet up in some fancy restaurant, and he'd be all chivalrous for Russ. Polite small talk, with a hint of dirty undertone. Maybe they'd go back to Russ' place...

His reply didn't come that night.

Or the next day. Or the day after that. In fact, three days of silence was concerning. Russ worried about it, decided to send another email to make sure his had gone through. There might have been a delay or a mix up or something, who knew. He kept himself bright at work, trying to think positive about it, but he ended up snapping at Jacocks when she asked him to do extra paperwork.

Four days. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe his internet had gone out and he didn't have another way to contact Russ. Maybe there was an accident... maybe he was seriously injured and didn't have access to a computer in the Hospital... He checked his email nearly every hour, just to make sure he didn't miss anything.

Five days. Five days and Russ was certain he'd screwed up. He sent a rash amount of apologies, letting him know he'd never ask to meet up again. It was fine. He didn't need to see him in person. Russ would be completely okay with that as long as he'd just contact Russ again. That asshole was neglecting him, and never before had he realized just how dependent he'd become on those everyday messages. His taser started feeling heavy against his hip when he walked.

Russ stopped wearing it on day six. He packed it in a drawer and slammed it shut, ignoring the concerned looks Font and Jacocks sent his way. If they were going to ask him about it, he'd politely tell them to piss off. It was his taser, he could do what he wanted with it.

He swore at Holly on day six.

"God damn it!" Russ let his head fall on his desk, fingers clutching at his hair. Six fucking days. Six god damn days of absolutely nothing... Was- was it over? He needed to leave, go home and drink himself stupid. He sure as hell was not going to cry at the office. Not over some internet relationship.

"Hey Russ."

His pity party was interrupted when Milt made his way into the office, stopping just short of Russ' desk and just... standing there. Doing nothing particularly charming or overzealous thankfully. Russ almost wanted to tease him for it, but he really wasn't feeling it. "What do you want, Milt?"

"Jacocks told me you yelled at Holly."

He groaned, of course Milt had gotten wind of that. Nothing happened around here without him knowing, "I don't want to talk about it."

There was a small pause, Milt still uncharacteristically still, "Lets go grab some lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Then lets get some coffee."

He sighed, "Milt, I'm really not in the mood to put up with your shit today."

"Russ."

He hid his face further into the safe burrow of his arms, wondering if he could hide there forever, "Go away Milt."

"Russel."

And there was something. Something in the familiar way he'd said that that made Russ look up. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized Milt looked disturbed, angry even. His eyes were cold, not welcoming and happy like usual. His hands were straight at his sides, stern and stiff. He looked off. "What-"

"Come on." He ordered, taking a firm hold of Russ' arm and hauling him up out of his chair, "We're going to get lunch."

"Milt! What the hell?!" Russ yelped, confused and nervous as Milt practically dragged him out of the office.