Lennie, Part XVI
by Cirocco (500 words)
"Lennie, I need to see you in my office. I think you know why."
Crap. Yeah, I think I know why too. Van Buren's been giving me and Ed weird looks for the last couple of days, as Ed's gotten more and more uptight and I've gotten more and more pissed at him. And I'm guessing she just saw him stalk off, and me follow him into the IR, and then him take off again.
"What's going on with you and Ed?"
"Nothing," I answer, and I feel about ten years old. "What's behind your back, Leonard?" Ma used to say, and I'd say "Nothin'," knowing she knew full well that I had a piece of gum I'd taken from the bodega counter when the cashier wasn't looking.
"Spit it out. Why'd he take off?"
"Chasing down a lead."
There it is, my mother's look, on Van Buren's face. Spooky. "Without you? For what case?"
Oh, the hell with it. This isn't fooling her. "Look, we're fine. He just had to go. Personal business."
"If it affects his work or your partnership, then it's not personal any more."
No. Some things you don't tell your boss. No matter how decent she is, no matter how much she wants to be everybody's mom. This is none of her business.
She glares at me and we do a battle of wills, and then she does this from-outta-nowhere thing. "Is this about Ed being gay?"
"What - you know?" I blurt out, and she looks like she's trying not to laugh. Yeah, OK, she got me. "Since when? How?"
"For a long time. Woman's intuition."
"Wish to hell you'd told me."
"Is this a problem for you?"
"What?" Now she's looking at me like she doesn't want to accuse me of anything. "Ah, come on. You're not serious?"
"You two haven't been getting along in the last few days and I get the feeling that-"
"Hey, come on, Lieu. If I could put up with some of the crap Mike and Rey pulled, I can sure as hell put up with a partner that prefers sweating up the sheets with guys." Ew, saying that brought up an image I didn't want at all. "It was a shock at first, that's all. I don't care who he sleeps with."
"Then what's the problem?"
No, we're not going there. What's going on between Ed and McCoy is really, really none of her business.
"Fine. You just let Ed know... if there's a problem, I want to know. I don't want your cases compromised because of anything going wrong between him and the DA's office."
How she figured that one out, I don't want to know. But I know my face is giving me - and Ed - away again. Damn, she's good.
She sighs. "I mean, Jack McCoy, of all people. With his rep? What the hell is Ed thinking?"
"Yeah, well, I don't think Ed's thinking much right now, Lieu. Not with his brain, anyway."
Jack, Part XVII
by Tobias Charity (500 words)
So now that you're asking yourself, "So what happened after we left Ed going into Jack's apartment.... what, WHAT??!! " we go back to Tobias Charity, with Jack!
A sudden crash of thunder rips me out of a restless sleep, and as the aftershocks ripple away I'm left flailing in the bed, my arms tangled in the sheets until suddenly I hit something solid that--what?
The whole night comes rushing back into my head like a flooding river and a flush creeps up my skin as I realize just what the solid thing I hit was--Ed.
Another crash of thunder rocks the building but Ed continues to sleep on, oblivious, and I watch him as he turns through his dreams. The window is casting a pale light into the room; the blinds are only partially drawn so an intricate shadow-pattern of raindrops dances on Ed's skin. The sheet's fallen to his waist and his arms are wrapped around the pillow; the muscles in his back shift in glorious, flowing harmony as he moves slightly in his sleep, only marginally disturbed by the tempest outside.
I tear my eyes away from Ed, who is still slumbering on, and glance at the clock. Only ten minutes until my alarm goes off and I have to start the day. I bite back a sigh and slip down underneath the covers, sliding my arm around Ed's waist. Ten minutes is an eternity when you don't know how much longer you'll have your lover. The quiet patter of the rain on the window provides a calming, even tempo and swiftly I'm in that hypnotic state between sleep and awakening.
The alarm beeps much too soon; I reluctantly slide out of bed and watch Ed slowly wake.
"Time s'it?" he mumbles through a yawn, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Six thirty," I say. "Do you want to shower first, or should I?"
He yawns again. "Can you make coffee and I'll go first? I'll go fast." I start to nod before the simplicity of it all strikes me. No awkward discussions, no horrible morning-after "I'll just go then, shall I?" mutterings, just...easy. Too easy; some part of me knows that we're eventually going to have to talk about this, because what relationship--there, I said the word--functions without at least minimal communication? I've had too many fail because of my lack of skills in that area; I'm not about to let one I was lucky enough to have drop into my lap founder and die just because I can't open my mouth to talk every now and again.
"Sure," I say, reaching for my boxers and a t-shirt. "Coffee'll be ready in about five minutes."
By the time he stumbles into the kitchen and drops into a chair, clad only in yesterday's rumpled pants, the coffee's done and I set a mug in front of him. "Cream's in the fridge, sugar's on the counter," I say, before sitting down across from him with my own steaming cup. I wrap my hands around the mug and look him straight in the eye. "Ed? We need to talk."
Ed, Part XVIII
by Cassatt (500 words)
"Ed? We need to talk," Jack says to me.
I've barely finished my first sip of coffee, needing the caffeine to wake me but not the buzz. I'm buzzed enough. The man is sitting across the table, looking damned serious, and all I can think is that he looks so damnably hot, and now I know just exactly how hot he is, and why don't we go back to tangle the sheets again, and... he wants me to talk.
"Okay," I say. I can do this. I should do this. We should do this. "Okay," I continue, "we do. Need to." My brain spasms, so I drink more caffeine. I realize, with a start, that serious can mean bad.
Jack smiles one of his small ones, and see, now I know a few of them. There's a small one that he gives me, sometimes, after we've kissed a certain way. There's a big one after I've....
"We haven't," he says, then hesitates, "clarified what this is." He waves a finger back and forth between us. "We haven't even gone on a date. I'd like to know what you think. What you're expecting...." He peters out and goes to his mug, too.
Wow. Jack McCoy is unsure. Wow. This rocks me, and I suspect it isn't bad. Unsure plus serious equals something that matters.
"I think," I say, "that I've got no expectations. Not exactly. I mean, I'd really like to go on a date, or more than one, hopefully. I'd like to see where this leads. I'd like it to lead somewhere." I can't believe that was so easy to say, and I have another sudden realization as the drug wires my bloodstream. This is easy, being here with him. I like being here. I loved last night. I'm very much liking this morning. Now I'm rocked again. I can see this -- the two of us. I want it, more than I'd let myself believe I did. And have I mentioned the chemistry factor?
"So," Jack says, looking serious again, "you're not involved with anyone else?"
Whoa, boy. Can I go back to bed, now? Do I go for absolute honesty; do I know what the hell that is? "Not exactly," I say, thinking that's pretty honest.
His face becomes completely impassive. Fuck. "Not exactly means that you're involved in an open sort of relationship?"
Have I mentioned that I'm an idiot? "No, no," I say, leaning forward because he's just leaned back; I want to grab him, keep him in place. "It's not an open relationship, it's no longer any relationship, not really. We've broken up. I told him...." I stop. Is it safe?
Jack's leaning toward me again. Impassive has become intense. "What did you tell him?"
"Am I being cross-examined?" I ask lightly, hoping to delay.
Jack's looking right through me. It's not a bad feeling, either. "What did you tell him, Ed?"
"I told him... about you, Jack."
Jack sits back, again. Intense has become stunned.