A/N: Hello everyone. I'm so sorry for the lack of updates, my whole family's been sick for the past week. Things should be getting more on track now. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

~xXx~

Chapter 6

It seemed strange for Robin to be pulling up alone in the car park. While Kim seemed to be much better he'd insisted on her taking another day to recuperate, forcing her to stay home under the guise of health rules about taking 48 hours off after a vomiting virus. He knew she wouldn't stay at home for any other reason and he was worried about her. He hadn't seen her that sick in a really long time.

He noticed Michael and Simon arriving together as he stepped out of the car. Neither of them seemed very happy and Simon looked pale.

"I told you, it's fine," he heard Michael say softly, a hand on Simon's shoulder.

"Can we stop talking about it please?" Simon begged before he clutched his stomach, did a silly little shuffle and rushed into the building with his legs as close together as possible.

"Will you call me later to at least let me know if you're OK?" Michael called after him but Simon seemed out of earshot. He glanced around awkwardly as Robin caught up to him and gave a slight wave. "Morning, sir," he said.

Robin couldn't help being nosey.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

Michael shuffled towards uniform.

"Fine, sir, I'll see you at work shortly."

Robin pulled a curious face as he watched him leave. He pulled his jacket around him as he felt hunger pangs stirring. Shit, why did he decide to skip breakfast? Work was going to have to wait for a short time. There were two things he has to do first; one was sating his hunger, the other was sating his curiosity.

Alex and Gene arrived just in time to see Robin rushing inside the building and Gene mumbled under his breath.

"Oh look, Chief Inspector Vom-mas is back."

"Gene!" Alex hissed in horror, "don't call him that. Poor Robin." She unfastened her seatbelt and gave Gene a stern glare. "He already felt bad enough about his incident."

"Not as bad as the bloody cleaner felt after cleaning it up," Gene told her and Alex sighed as she opened the car door.

"Be nice, Gene, he's not been well."

"I'll don me nurse's uniform," Gene mumbled as they stepped out of the car.

~xXx~

"Excuse me... Excuse me... Oi!"

Robin stopped in his tracks and spun around at the last angry shout from the voice behind the counter.

"Yes?" he asked, his heart racing as her yell made him jump.

"Can't take that out."

"Sorry?"

"The plate," The large-bottomed lady told him, "all china stays in the canteen."

"I'm just going to eat this at my desk," Robin frowned, contemplating the serving of beans on his pate.

"Can't let you have the china," the woman insisted.

"I'm a chief inspector!" Robin protested, "I think I can manage to use a plate!"

"Don't let them leave the canteen any more," she told him, "not after that idiot from CID started his plate-spinning routine."

*I'm not even in CID!" Robin protested, "and I won't let Bammo anywhere near it!"

"Sorry. Eat here or the beans go in the bin."

Robin's eyes glistened with tears as he stared at her. Unbelievable. Her attitude was completely unbelievable.

"Why are you being so horrible to me?" he demanded as a ladle twotted him around the head, "Shit!" he cried as he clung to the lump that suddenly appeared.

"The plate stays here!"

Robin narrowed his eyes at the woman. He was going to find a way around this. Nothing came between Robin and his beaked beans. Nothing.

~xXx~

"Hey you."

Simon glanced up as he heard Robin's voice in the doorway.

"Hey," he said quietly, "how are you feeling?"

"Well I was feeling better," Robin rubbed the lump on the side of his head, "but I think I might be getting a migraine now." he paused, "can I come in?"

Simon frowned and shrugged a little.

"Well, yeah," he said, unsure why Robin was even asking. He glanced at the large Styrofoam cup in Robin's hand. "Don't let Gene see you with that, he'll demand to know where his is."

"Yeah, I don't think Gene's going to want one of these," Robin said sheepishly.

"Why?" frowned Simon, "what is it? Cappuccino?" he saw an eerie orange glow emanating from the cup and gave a slightly horrified yelp, "Oh god!" he clutched his stomach, "what kind of sick-arsed coffee is that?" he grimaced as Robin sat closer. "Rob, do you have to eat those right next to me?"

Robin looked anxious.

"Have you caught the bug too?" he asked, "are you feeling sick?"

"No," Simon shook his head but he still looked off-colour.

Robin tried to act casual as he watched Simon moving papers around on his desk.

"Do you want any help?" he asked as he knocked his beans flying and orange sphericals landed on some paperwork, "Oops..."

"Robin!" Simon cried.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Robin cried, quickly attempting to round them up.

"There's sauce all over my papers now!" Simon cried.

"I said I was sorry!" Robin protested, "It's only a few baked beans!"

"That's going to be on your epitaph if you keep on this way," Simon told him crossly, mopping up the sauce as Robin stared at him.

"You're being really mean today," he said pitifully and Simon rolled his eyes.

"I'm not! You're just more sensitive than that bloody soap they advertise with the paint on the lily!"

"I am not!"

"And apparently you argue like a five year old!"

Robin stared at Simon, aghast.

"Well," he pouted indignantly, "something's eating you. What is it?"

"Nothing," Simon mumbled,

"Well something clearly is." Robin waited, hoping that Simon might open up about whatever was getting to him but he remained silent. "Is it Michael?" he chanced and caught a slightly pained look on Simon's face.

"No," he mumbled, "why would it be?"

"Because you hurtled away from him like you were going for a spot in the British olympic team," Robin pointed out.

Simon's face started to heat up.

"I wasn't running away from him," he cried, "well... technically I was... I just needed the toilet, that's all."

Robin hesitated.

"Oh shit, you have got the bug as well."

Simon shook his head.

"No," he mumbled but he did look awfully pale and his stomach was making some seriously suspicious noises. Robin hesitated. Simon wasn't himself, whatever was wrong.

"You can talk to me you know," he said, almost sadly, wondering why Simon wasn't doing just that, "whatever's wrong."

Simon pretended to be very busy shuffling papers.

"I'm fine, Rob," he said quietly.

"It wouldn't be weird," he tried, "if you wanted to talk about Michael. Not for me, at least."

Simon looked up, every part of him ready to protest that nothing was wrong again but at the last minute his expression crumpled a little.

"Well it's weird for me."

"So it is Michael?"

Simon shrugged.

"Yeah," he said quiet;y.

"Have you had a fight?"

Simon shook his head.

"No," he said, "because Michael wouldn't fight because Michael's perfect."

Robin frowned.

"OK, Simon, you need to tell me what's going on because this isn't the Simon I know talking."

Simon stared at his desk with a half-hearted shrug. His cheeks were burning up with shame and he felt torn between needing to spill his worries and never wanting to talk about the last two nights again. He notices that Robin's expression was growing more anxious by the moment and finally he knew he couldn't keep it to himself any more.

"I've," his voice hitched, "had a problem. With Michael."

"I thought you said you hadn't had a fight?"

"Not that type of problem." he flinched. How was he supposed to say it? Oh god, that brought back bad memories, to the night that Gene had come to confide in Simon about failing to be an upstanding citizen. Shit. Suddenly his euphemisms didn't seem to pointless. "I'm not... I couldn't..." he closed his eyes. "What's that Catatonia song?"

Robin frowned.

"Michael got Road Rage?"

"No! the other one!" Simon shook his head, "it's not out until next year."

"I hope you don't mean that Tom Jones one," Robin frowned but then his memory sparked. "Dead From the ..." his eyes widened as Simon hung his head, "...Waist Down," he concluded. The look on Simon's face said it all. To both their horrors a ting snigger escaped Robin's lips and Simon turned to him accusingly.

"Thanks for nothing!"

"I'm sorry, Si, I'm really, really sorry!"

"I thought you of all people would understand!" Simon cried.

"Why?" frowned Robin, "it's not a problem I have."

"Yeah, so I've read in the toilets." Simon mumbled, turning Robin's face read.

"It's not a problem you usually have either!" Robin pointed out.

"I know that!"

"In fact, according to what's written in one of the cubicles you usually have the opposite problem -

"That's enough about my bloody trouser tents!" Simon hissed in shame. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Forget I spoke."

"Oh, come on, Simon.," Robin said quietly, "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I laughed, it just took me by surprise, that's all." he bit his lip as he watched Simon pretending to work. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Simon shook his head.

"Not particularly.

"You did five minutes ago."

"Yeah, and then you turned into a laughing hyena and I decided against it."

"I Said I was sorry!" Robin protested. He looked at Simon worriedly. "are you OK, Si?"

Simon shrugged. He wasn't, if he was honest.

"No one ever died from impotence," he mumbled, "did they?"

"It's not exactly impotence," Rob in told him, "I mean, one time..."

"Two," Simon closed his eyes.

Robin bit his lip, hesitating.

"Pardon."

Simon's face was redder than Jupiter's spot.

"It's happened twice," He mumbled, "It happened on Monday and again last night."

Robin stared at him, not sure what to say. He distracted himself by prodding at his beans with a fork before finally saying,

"Well... I know it's a cliché... but it happens to -"

"- Every man, yeah, so he said," Simon glowered.

"You're probably tired," Robin told him.

"Never stopped me in the past."

"Or stressed," Robin gave a little shrug, "And I know sex is a big deal to you, Simon. I understand that, you know we always felt the same about that. Maybe you just weren't ready."

"I didn't seem to have any difficulty when I had a chest covered with squirty cream," Simon muttered.

"Then maybe you were too worked up about it," Robin told him, "had you been planning it?"

"What?"

"The last two nights?" Robin asked, "sorry if I'm prying..."

Simon shook his head.

"You're not prying," he said, "and..." he closed his eyes. "not planning... exactly... expecting. Knew it was going to happen."

"Maybe hat's the problem," Robin said quietly., "remember us? Our first time?" he watched a little smile spread over Simon's face. "Neither of us expected it to happen, it just did. And by the sound of it when you..." he coughed, "with the squirty cream... it sounds like it was the last thing you'd been expecting."

-Simon nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"You're a planner, Si, always have been," Robin told him, "but sometimes you need to be spontaneous. Maybe you were thinking about it too much."

"Maybe," Simon sighed despondently. It was true, as soon as he knew he was going back to Michael's on Monday night it was all he'd thought about. Then the previous night he'd been prepared and it still hadn't happened. "You're right. You really are. I was trying too hard." he closed his eyes and sighed. "Last night... after what happened the night before... I had a -" he hesitated, "back-up plan. And it still didn't work."

"Back up plan?" Robin frowned.

Simon stared at his desk, his cheeks aflame.

"I," he coughed, "took something."

Robin's eyes widened.

"Drugs?" he whispered, horrified.

"Not exactly," Simon swallowed. He reluctantly glanced at Robin. "Viagra."

"Viagra?" Robin cried, much to Simon's horror.

"Do you want to say that a little louder?" he cried, "only I think there was a pimp down in custody who didn't quite hear!"

"Sorry," Robin protested, "it's just... I didn't expect..." he frowned, "how did you even get the doctor to prescribe it? It's only been out here for a few months, hasn't it?"

Simon looked away.

"I didn't get them from the doctor," he mumbled.

"Where did you get them then?" Robin frowned.

"I got them off Bammo."

"Bammo?" Robin didn't know whether to laugh or cry, "What the hell did you do that for?"

"I was desperate!" Simon hissed, "I wanted to prove to Michael that I wasn't..." he swallowed, "a flop in bed." he scowled. "I might as well have thrown them in a wishing well and begged the penis genie to bestow me with an erection for all the good they did."

"Where the hell did Bammo get viagra from?" Robin cried.

"He had a friend who had some..." Simon coughed, "issues."

"How many did he give you?" Robin frowned.

"He didn't... give them... to me," Simon mumbled, "I gave him a healthy donation."

Robin leaned back and sighed.

"Oh Simon," he said a little sadly.

Simon picked at his fingernails.

"Four," he mumbled eventually.

Robin frowned.

"Hmm?"

"He sold me four," Simon concluded with a sigh. "I took two of them. Bugger-all happened."

"Where are the others?" Robin asked and Simon reached into hos pocket, pulling out a couple of little blue tablets. Robin took them with a frown. They didn't look like the pictures he'd seen on the TV or in newspapers, that was for sure. He squinted at them a little closer and his eyes widened.

"Simon, that's not viagra," he closed his eyes, "he's given you laxatives."

"What?" Simon cried, grabbing them back and scrutinizing them. He felt his ears starting to heat up with fury. "The bastard!"

"When did you take them?" Robin asked.

"Ten o'clock last night," Simon mumbled. He froze with a glower. "Fuck, that's why I've been in the toilet since half six this morning."

Robin closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his forehead involuntarily. It was all he could do not to laugh. He knew it wasn't funny for Simon but he couldn't understand how he'd been so stupid. Eventually he shook his head.

"Simon," he said quietly, "look, if it's none of my business then I understand. But I know you. And this... all of it..." he shook his head. "the pills, the – problems, the stressing out about it..." he looked simon in the eye. "This doesn't seem like you." He hesitated. "Is something else wrong?"

Simon hesitated.

"My joy department is out of order and my guts sound like the soundtrack of a horror movie, what could possibly be the matter?"

"I mean apart from that." Robin hesitated. "You and Michael... are things... alright? I mean aside from... bedroom issues?"

Simon stared at Robin. He wanted to tell him everything was fine. He also wanted to tell him that he was as confused as he'd ever been. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to do either. Eventually he gave Robin a wobbly smile amd nodded.

"Everything's fine, Rob," he said quietly, "Or it will be. When I've killed Bammo."

Robin gave Simon a concerned smile. He knew better than to push it until Simon was ready to talk, whatever was going on. Eventually he nodded and got to his feet, picking up his cup of beans.

"Well," he said, "you know where I will be if you change your mind."

"Where you'll bean, more like," Simon commented and they exchanged a fond smile before Robin took his breakfast away leaving Simon alone with his thoughts.

Simon stared at his desk for the longest time, not even really thinking about anything. He couldn't. He'd done enough thinking/. It was getting him nowhere. He needed to think abut something else, anything apart from Michael and Keats. Not that he'd been thinking about Keats'. No, of course he hadn't. Keats hadn't even featured in his thoughts. Not in the slightest.

He shook his head and tried to stop thinking about not thinking about Keats. This was just getting stupid. He returned to shuffling papers on his desk, lifting up one memo that caught his eye.

"All information pertaining to the current whereabouts of missing prisoner Arthur Layton..." he mumbled as he read, "blah blah... Jason Redlake, Deputy Chief Constablefor Hadfield police station..." He stared at the memo with a frown. A small picture of the man in question seemed to spark a memory in Simon's mind but nothing followed it. "That face is familiar," he mumbled, but he couldn't place it. He shrugged and threw the sheet to one side. He needed to get on with some work of his own. Yet somehow in the recesses of his mind there was a little spark of knowledge that wouldn't go away. Something about that photograph made him shudder, like he'd seen the face before.

Whatever it was, he shrugged it to the background along with his shame, his worry and his desire to get extremely painful revenge on Bammo that would probably involve borrowing heavily from Kim's piercing kit.