"Only me." Sid announced cheerily as he let himself in, before realising that the lack of coat and hat on the hook beside the door meant that Sullivan wasn't home yet.

After that slight annoyance, Sid decided he may as well make himself at home. That's what Sullivan had told him to do, after all. He wandered into the sparsely decorated living room and sat down on the sofa. There was a sofa, a blue armchair, a radio, a bookcase and a fireplace. With nothing on the mantlepiece. If it hadn't have been for the large collection of books on the shelves, Sid may as well have been sitting in a hotel room. No wonder he'd been so relaxed about giving him a key- the man had nothing to steal.

Unnerved by the impersonal living room, Sid headed into the small kitchen. It was just as bare; the most exciting thing amongst the light blue units was a kettle. He rummaged about in the cupboards and found nothing else of interest bar a very strong looking bottle of Irish Whiskey sitting beside the teabags. While he stood there worrying about how boring the Inspector's life was appearing to be, the phone rang.

Sid jumped and splashed water all over himself and the kitchen counter. Abandoning the kettle and swearing profusely he grabbed the receiver. Without engaging his brain.

"Hello?" He panicked, "Sullivan residence?"

"Who are you?" A voice barked back.

"Errgh... Sid Carter?" Sid answered cautiously, starting to realise that answering Sullivan's phone probably wasn't the greatest idea. Knowing his luck he was now talking to the chief superintendent or something. The voice at the end of the phone had gone quiet, so Sid thought it might be best to test the waters before he started asking for favours re court dates.

"I'm... A plumber," He spoke into the receiver, "I'm fixing some taps-"

"Where's Edgar?" Barked the angry voice again.

"Edgar?" Asked a bewildered Sid.

"Yes! Edgar Sullivan." The voice replied.

"Oh! Inspector Sullivan!" Sid answered.

"God's sake man!" The voice was roaring again, reminding Sid of both an angry headteacher and a military general. "Are you a simpleton? Where is my son?"

"Your-your son?" Sid asked weakly.

A torrent of insults poured down the line, enough to make poor Sid speechless in shock. He couldn't remember ever hearing as many derogatory statements being thrown at him at one time, especially by a man he didn't even know.

At this point the door flew open and Sullivan appeared, looking confused and mildly amused at the shell-shocked Sid holding the retriever.

"Oh thank God! " Sid cried, "It's your old man, I think he's gone mad, I told him I-"

The phone was wrenched out of Sid's hands by seemingly inhuman strength and Sullivan shoved him out of the way.

Sid tried not to listen but given the volume of the man on the other end he could sit in the garden and still hear.

"Dad, I-" Sullivan began, but was immediately cut off.

"Where the hell have you been, boy? I've been waiting with that idiotic plumber of yours for ages!"

"Plumber?" Sullivan looked befuddled. Sid pointed at himself and raised his eyebrows and Sullivan's mouth opened in realisation. "Oh right, yeah-"

"I've told you before not to say yeah, that shows a waste of a very fine and expensive education, you stupid boy. Now where were you?"

"I was- I was at work-" Sullivan stuttered.

"What good are you doing there, eh? Plenty of decent opportunities I could have gave you but no, there you went, obstinate as usual-"

"Well I-" Sullivan attempted to interrupt.

"Don't interrupt me, Edgar! The least you could do is talk to your father for five minutes, that bleeding phone of yours barely ever works and anytime I call the station they say you're too busy. I won't be here forever, you know."

"I-"

"William Hillard's daughter was asking about you again. Do you know how pathetic it is having to manage your own son's love life?"

Sullivan's face hardened.

"Dad, I've told you before I'm not interested in Peggy Hillard, not to mention the fact that she lives miles away-"

"Well you're going to have to settle down at some point, Edgar. Otherwise you'll have people thinking you're some bloody queer." The voice began guffawing loudly at it's own joke.

Sid listened in silent horror as Sullivan's face seemed to break, and he looked like a scared little boy.

"I have to go," He said in a strange voice over his father's hearty laughter, "The plumber wants his money."

He set the receiver down gently, as though it might bite him, and stood for a minute with his hand on it as though he was restraining it. Sid stood there feeling mortified from what he'd overheard and didn't dare say anything.

He placed his hand on the other man's shoulder. "You okay?" He asked quietly, through the heavy air around them

Sullivan breathed out loudly and turned to look at him with a dead look in his eyes.

"I wish we could just forget that that ever happened." He said eventually.

"Me too." Agreed Sid instantly.

...

"I can go if you want-"

"No, I mean, if you still want to, then-"

"Yes please."

Sullivan gestured to the stairs. "You know the way."


Fists tightened around the bars of the bedstead, Sid moaned as the man on top of him finally gasped out in relief, slowed to a stop, and dizzily climbed off him. He pulled the duvet over himself and grabbing a pillow, shuffled up to lie the right way round, legs untangling from Sid's under the blankets. At this point Sid was well aware of this little routine, and had leaned across to the bedside locker to grab his cigarette case and lighter.

"Mind if I smoke?" He asked his companion.

"Only if you give me one." Sullivan replied.

Sid stared at the man beside him in surprise but upon realising he was not joking, handed him a cigarette.

Sullivan in turn shuffled forward to the point where his chest was on Sid's thigh, ciggy clamped between his teeth waiting for a light. Sid lit it, and immediately missed the warmth of the other man when he shuffled back onto his back beside him.

The warmth of...

They sat there in companionable silence for a minute, both silently acknowledging how strange it was for Sid not to just leave, like he normally did, but both of them having the strange feeling that perhaps, it was better that way. Both of them just relaxing for a minute after their exertion.

It was nice. Calming.

"So... Edgar-"

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out off my bed."

"Well, is that not your name."

Edgar leaned over to stub out his cigarette in a glass sitting on the bedside table. "Just don't... Don't go there."

"Edgar." Sid chattered to himself. "Edgar Edgar Edgar. Ed. Eddie. Teddy. Edison."

"Shut up!" Sullivan groaned, with his face behind his hands.

"Oh come on, it's a bit better than moaning Sullivan, isn't it?"

Sid leaned over Sullivan to dispose of his own cigarette, basically sprawling across the mortified man.

"Nothing," A muffled voice behind his hands announced, "Could kill the mood more than you calling me Edgar."

Sid reached over under the covers, and started sliding his hand up the inside of Sullivan's thigh. "Really, Eddie?" He asked inquisitively, stroking the delicate, sensitive skin as Sullivan shivered slightly. "Eddie," He said smugly, grabbing hold of Sullivan's leg and hoisting it over his own. Despite his professed annoyance, 'Edgar's' face had become blissfully anticipatious and he was already moaning softly as Sid wound his arms around his back and began to grind against him.

"Oh Sid," He gasped blissfully head thrown back in ecstasy, "Sidney, Sidney, Sidney..."