Disclaimer: These characters belong to Chris Haddock, Barna-Alper, Alliance-Atlantis and probably the CBC. I should point out that this entire series was written with Season 2 as the only reference. The somewhat recent viewing of S1 has made me see some errors in this series. Ah well, live and learn, right?
Comments, questions etc. welcome at jb7811@bellsouth.net
Notes: For Barb, who wanted resolution for this series. Be careful what you wish for...;-) Thanks to Nicole and Mouse for excellent beta.
Summary: Some fighting, some hurting, and some making up.
-------------
"And so it begins," sighed Dominic, sitting up on the side of the bed and pulling on his boxers. Just once he'd like to roll over and fall asleep after sex like most guys did. But no, he couldn't do that because he had to walk Bobby to the door and say goodbye. Heaven forbid Bobby should stay the night without having some traumatic event beforehand. He'd stay for his own comfort--which Dominic really had a hard time begrudging him--but never just for the hell of it, staying just because he *wanted* to. It was odd that Bobby didn't appear to mind if Dominic stayed over at his place, and had specifically asked him to a few times.
"Did you say something?" Bobby didn't pause in his dressing to ask the question, barely even glanced in Dominic's direction.
"Just wondering what fire you've gotta get to."
Bobby did look at Dominic then, with a quizzical half smile. "What?"
Dominic raked a hand through his hair and tried to contain his irritation. He shouldn't have started this when they were both tired, but what the hell. It was started, whether he liked it or not, whether he controlled it or not. "Bobby, why are you always in such a hurry to leave? It doesn't matter what we do, as soon as it's over--" he motioned sharply with one hand "--you boot it out of here like the devil himself's after you. Frankly, I'm getting a little tired of it."
"Really? Hmm." Looking thoughtful as he finished tucking in his shirt, Bobby didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he shrugged and said, "Sorry you feel that way." And then he walked out of the room.
Dominic frowned and stared at the empty doorway, knowing that Bobby wasn't going to come back, but unable to make himself move just yet. Finally the irritation exploded into full-blown anger, and he stomped out after Bobby, catching him by the front door where he was putting on his jacket, while stepping into his shoes. "Okay, Bobby, just what the fuck is your problem?"
Bobby pulled back in apparent surprise, and said, "I don't have one. What's yours?"
"I told you what mine is."
"You want me to stay?"
"Well, yeah, or at least stop running out as soon as humanly possible. We used to hang out a while, have something to eat, talk, watch TV, whatever. Now the last few weeks it's like you can't wait to get out of here, and I want to know what is going on."
"Dominic, don't start this...please." Bobby sighed and shook his head, but Dominic couldn't really read his expression.
"Let's talk about how this started, shall we? You came here looking for comfort after Byron Mizlowski and Richard Zeto and Ryner Paget had made you so miserable you had to admit to needing somebody. Me. And I gave you that comfort, didn't I? Hell, maybe I needed it too, but that's beside the point." Dominic wanted to start pacing, but he was afraid if he moved away from the door, Bobby would bolt. "So then we fell into this pattern of casual sex--so casual you wanted my advice about asking out my own damned secretary--and comfort. Comfort whenever *you* needed it."
Bobby drew himself up to his full height, his eyes blazing blue fire. He looked angry for the first time since the discussion--fight--had started. "Hey, I didn't force you to do anything. Not one fucking thing. I've always been very careful about that."
Dominic briefly closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips into his forehead where a tension headache was gathering like an ominous black thundercloud. When he spoke, he made his voice deliberately calm. "I never meant to imply anything else, Bobby, okay? Consent is not now, nor has it ever been the issue with us."
Bobby sighed explosively and said, "What *is* the issue then? You not wanting to sleep alone? I'm sorry, but I don't see that as my problem to fix."
Dominic stood there aghast, unable to figure out how to get out of this mess. And it certainly was turning into a big mess. "Not your problem to...? Damn it, Bobby, what have the last six months been to you?"
Bobby looked down at the floor for a moment and then back up at Dominic. "I...I don't... Ah shit. I'm sorry." Then he opened the door and was gone.
Dominic stood there staring at his apartment door swinging slowly shut with the tiniest little click that felt like a gunshot in his ears.
*^*^*^*
"Dammit, Helen, this isn't what I need. I asked for the records for Ronald Jackson, the pilot, not the pathology report on William Johnson. I gave that case to Winston yesterday, you *know* that." Dominic glared at his secretary in extreme annoyance. A mistake like this was not like her, and it was getting his morning off to a really bad start. He'd have to wait for the Jackson file before he could go to his meeting and he'd probably be late and--
His mental ranting was broken by Helen's assured voice saying, "You said *Johnson*, not Jackson. I even asked if you were sure and you said yes."
"Why would I ask for Johnson if I wanted Jackson?" Dominic scoffed.
"I don't know." Helen glanced over her shoulder, and then continued just as calmly and quietly as before, but with a thread of steel in her voice. "I don't know what your problem is, D. But I'm getting pretty damned tired of it, and I wouldn't be surprised if everyone else is too. Work it out or get over it or whatever you have to do, but stop taking it out on the wrong people."
Dominic nodded, stunned to have his secretary giving him an attitude adjustment. The last two weeks without Bobby had put more of a strain on him than he'd been willing to admit to himself. "You're right. I'm sorry. I really do need Jackson's records, and could you please check to see if the casualty report has come in from the insurance company?"
As Helen nodded and turned away, Dominic added a contrite "Thank you."
She paused at the door and pointed at him, saying again, "Work it out."
Dominic nodded and sighed, trying to make his mind focus on all the work he had on his desk, but he was fighting a losing battle. Leaning back in his chair, he took off his glasses and tossed them on the desk. He felt exhausted right down to his bones, and lonely and confused and angry and hurt. He seemed to be bouncing from one emotion to another, while desperately trying to deny them all. He couldn't sleep, didn't feel like eating, and couldn't seem to concentrate on anything for very long. He was running on caffeine and stubbornness at this point. Bobby hadn't called, hadn't come by either home or office, and Dominic didn't either. He refused to grovel. You only beg for things you need and he didn't *need* Bobby. And *he* didn't do anything wrong anyway. It was Bobby who had left him, and if he'd had the energy he could have worked up a good bit of righteous indignation over that point, but he didn't and he couldn't.
Helen came back with the reports he needed and he took them with an apologetic smile, asking her curiously, "Have you ever been in a...a, uh, relationship and you find out it's not exactly what you thought it was?"
"What happened? You and Bobby have a fight?" she asked sympathetically.
"What? How did-- Where did you-- uhhh...Bobby?"
"Bobby Marlowe. Why do you think I turned him down when he asked me out? I knew you'd been seeing him, otherwise I'd have said yes."
Dominic sighed, "Shit. How'd you know?"
"I just did. You've trained me well to be a mole--an *observant* mole." Helen smiled, but it was gentle. "He must have dumped you. If you'd done the dumping, you wouldn't be so...upset."
"Hey, I am not upset. I'm not. It was his choice, and just because he didn't *choose* to tell me what exactly is his problem, I am not upset."
"Yeah, you sound really calm and not at all bothered."
"That's because I'm not." Dominic picked up his files and started stuffing them in his briefcase. "I'm just fine."
"Right, and that's why you're taking Johnson instead of Jackson to the meeting about the plane crash." Helen reached out and took the wrong file out of Dominic's hand and substituted the correct one.
"Damn it." Dominic shook his head and double checked to make sure he had the other papers he needed and hadn't packed up something else that had nothing to do with the case at hand.
"Is this going to inquest?"
"Yeah, it looks that way, why?"
"You need to get your personal life straightened out first, otherwise..."
Dominic knew she was right. He was a wreck, and it was affecting his work. He was letting Bobby get away with this avoidance thing much too easily. Dominic had not even tried to get in touch with him, and he was going to have to if they were to get this mess worked out.
"Listen, Helen, call Jack and tell him I can't meet him for lunch today. Try to reschedule for Thursday. If that's not good, have him call me to set up some other time." He didn't wait for her to agree, just slung his briefcase over his shoulder and went to his meeting. He would hunt down Bobby afterward and take him to lunch and try to figure out just what was going on here.
*^*^*^*
Bobby had declined to meet Dominic at lunch, but he had agreed to come by Dominic's place after work. Dominic had gotten home a little early, and now was restlessly wandering from kitchen to bedroom, making a circuit through the living room and occasionally stopping off in the bathroom to pointedly not look at himself in the mirror.
He fixed a pot of coffee, but while waiting for it, he opened up the cabinet over the sink and took down an almost empty bottle of scotch. He'd mostly forgotten it was still there, but now he held it up and considered it carefully. He judged there was less than an ounce in there, so he didn't bother with a glass. The alcohol hit his empty stomach with a slight burn, then spread tendrils of warmth throughout his body giving him the illusion of relaxation. The knock on the door dispelled that quickly enough
Bobby hesitated in the hallway, until Dominic stepped back from the open doorway and said, "Well, you're here, might as well come all the way in."
"Yeah, sorry." Bobby nodded and followed Dominic into the kitchen,
where Dominic poured two cups of coffee without asking. He set the
milk and sugar on the breakfast bar and pushed them toward Bobby, then
leaned back against the opposite counter.
They stood there for several long minutes sipping half-heartedly at
diversionary coffee, which seemed too bitter to Dominic, making him wish
he'd made tea instead. He watched Bobby while Bobby mostly just stared
at the floor, looking as haggard and drawn as Dominic felt. When
Bobby raised his head, Dominic set his cup down and propped his hands on
the edge of the counter.
Bobby's voice was harsh and sharp when he broke the silence. "You wanna fuck? I'm all right with that. It's fine, *great*. Just do not try to make me say I love you."
Dominic flinched as if he'd been slapped, and snapped back, "Bobby, for crying out loud, I can't *make* you do anything. And I never mentioned love. Nobody did, to my knowledge."
"Well, I do, but I'm not going to say it." Dominic reached out with one hand, but Bobby stepped back and said, "Don't... I can't... I won't be able to finish this conversation." Then he turned and walked into the living room.
Dominic would have been hurt by Bobby's withdrawal, but there was a pain in Bobby's eyes that tore at him, great slashing rips in his heart that should have bled. He slowly followed Bobby, who was pacing back and forth in the open area behind the sofa. "Bobby...what is it that you need here?"
Bobby stopped moving and looked at Dominic quizzically. "You know, maybe that's the problem. It's not about me this time. What do *you* need, huh?"
"I don't..." Dominic stopped and considered what he could say that would cause the least amount of damage. "I just want things back the way they were."
Bobby narrowed his eyes and snorted, but there was a curious lack of anger in his voice when he said, "Yeah, right. You want me to spill my guts all over the floor so you'll have complete control over m--over the situation."
Dominic shook his head and wondered where the hell that had come from, but before he could respond, Bobby was speaking again. "Ever notice our drinking patterns? When I quit, I stayed quit--except for that once after the Williams case. You quit, and then you go back. Have a few drinks with the guys after work, a glass or two of your father's wine. You just fucking *control* it, don't you? Well, I can't. It's all or nothing."
Dominic sighed and said, "Bobby, what does that have to do--", but Bobby held up his hand and cut him off.
"I *have* to. It's the only way I can survive in a post-Gwen world, all right?" Bobby started moving again, this time just wandering around the room as he talked in a voice that nearly quivered with exhaustion. "Do you know what it's like to work Vice--or even worse, Sex Crimes? For eight, ten, twelve hours a day, you deal with some of the most helpless, hopeless people you can imagine. They've had control ripped away from them, often violently. Do you have any idea what it's like?"
"What does that have to do with anything? You think most of the corpses I see each day *choose* to die? No, they don't have much control over that. You think the families have any control? Not in most cases, they don't, so yeah, I know a little about what it's like." Dominic was starting to see Bobby's problem, but he still wasn't sure how he was going to work around it. And more importantly, did he want to?
Dominic considered his friend carefully. This was Bobby, whom he'd known for years, whom he'd slept with more times than he could remember, whom he'd fallen in love with at some time during the last six months, although Dominic couldn't have pinpointed when on threat of torture. He watched Bobby shove his shaking hands into his pants pockets, and wondered if he was ready to give up on Bobby. It would certainly be the easiest thing for Bobby, let him have his precious control and go back to his solitary life. But would that be *best* for either of them?
"No." Dominic shook his head and repeated, "No. I'm not going to give up so easily, Bobby. You know why? Because of what you said you're not going to say. It's out there now and you can't take it back. I'm not going to debate the big leaps of logic you're making here--and there are some doozies, let me tell you-- because I doubt you could explain it any better right now. I mean, when was the last time you got a full night's sleep or had a decent meal? You look like hell."
"Dominic..." Bobby paused and shook his head, smiling for the first time, but it was a mostly unsuccessful effort. "Don't be nice to me. Don't comfort me after I've been such a jerk. I don't deserve it."
"I'm not being *nice*. In fact, I'm pretty damned pissed off that you've been a complete bastard lately, but I'm also not going to let you weasel out of this thing. We're in this together, whether you like it or not, and that's just how it's going to be."
Bobby started to speak, but Dominic cut him off. "No, just be quiet for a minute. You had your chance, and it's my turn now."
Rather than risk another physical rejection, Dominic kept his hands to himself, but he did take a few steps closer to Bobby. "I'm not out to control you, Bobby--I don't even know why you'd think such a thing. In fact, I'll be willing to give you as much as you need to feel secure--for a while anyway. It's not exactly the best way to build a long-term relationship. And yeah, that's what I'm thinking we could maybe have here."
Sitting down on the sofa, Bobby closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly and shakily and then he looked up at Dominic. "It can't be this easy. Nothing ever is. You're going to make me grovel, aren't you?"
Dominic smiled with relief and replied with something approaching good cheer. "Oh sure, yeah, on your knees."
"Yeah, way to give me control." Bobby smirked. "Maybe I'll take you up on that offer, and put you on your knees instead."
"No, no. It's grovel first, control second." Dominic sat down on the couch next to Bobby, close but not touching. "I'm sure I remember make-up sex going something like that."
Bobby picked up Dominic's hand in his, stroking his fingers almost absently, as he asked, "Had a lot of it, have you?"
"You have no idea," Dominic assured him, but he didn't admit that he'd usually been the one doing the apologizing. He refused to call it groveling when it applied to him.
"Why didn't you just write me off and go on about your business?" Bobby put Dominic's hand down on his own thigh and held it there, and Dominic let him. "You could have just stayed dumped and hated my guts for a while, and then forgot about me."
"We've been friends too long, and I'm too stubborn to let it go that easily. Besides, there's something I'm not going to say to you either."
"Good. Don't." Bobby didn't make eye contact, but continued holding Dominic's hand pressed to his leg.
"Bobby, I say this with the utmost respect and affection-- you're a freak."
Bobby shrugged his shoulders and said, "I've been called much worse."
"I can imagine. What I mean is, you're a control freak. That's what your problem is."
"Huh. I wondered what my problem was."
"Now you know. I never noticed this tendency before..."
"Before Gwen." Turning Dominic's hand loose, Bobby nodded and rubbed both hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes with his palms.
"Yeah," said Dominic quietly.
"Yeah," said Bobby in an even quieter voice.
"So...?" Dominic asked, but Bobby just tilted his head against the back of the couch and didn't say anything for a moment. He seemed to be staring at some random point on the opposite wall.
"So." Bobby closed his eyes briefly and let out a long breath. "You were right about one thing. I haven't been sleeping, and I've been working sixteen-hour days just to have something to do. I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Yeah, well...we have to some time." Dominic saw Bobby nod wearily and then continued, "What are you thinking now?"
"Why?" Bobby shot him a suspicious look, and finally sighed, "I don't know. That a bottle of scotch would go down real smooth right now? That it would be easy to sleep with you tonight, even if it's not the right thing to do."
"Yeah, I don't think what's easiest is necessarily best." Dominic thought about it for a minute and said as non-judgmentally as he could manage, "You don't trust me."
Bobby stared at him a trifle wide eyed and then blinked. "What...why... You might be right. I'm...sorry."
"Can you help it?"
"No, and it's not your fault either."
"Well, then don't apologize." Suddenly feeling restless, Dominic stood up and went to the kitchen for the coffee. He didn't really want it, but it was an excuse to get some distance from Bobby. The physical proximity after a two week separation was getting to him. Even the habitually smoky scent of Bobby's clothes was turning him on at this point, and arousal wouldn't do them much good. It would just ratchet up his own tension a couple of notches and probably do the same to Bobby.
Coming back to the living room, Dominic offered Bobby his cup, but the other man shook his head. "No thanks, I'm wound up enough. Listen, I'm just gonna go on home, all right? Maybe I'll be able to get some sleep tonight, now that we're okay again." Dominic set the cup down on the coffee table as Bobby stood up and continued, "We *are* okay, aren't we?"
"That might be overstating things a bit, but we're not finished either. I'll take that, for now." Dominic tried to smile, but it didn't seem natural so he gave up. They would have to get back together slowly and, all joking aside, gradually work up to the make up sex. He found himself a little surprised that Bobby recognized this, since it was pretty much the opposite of how their relationship had gone thus far.
Dominic walked Bobby to the door and then hesitated. Ordinarily, they'd have a goodnight kiss right about here, but he didn't know if he should make the first move or wait and see what Bobby did. Bobby watched him with similar thoughts playing in his eyes, and then finally leaned forward slowly. Dominic met him halfway for a kiss that started off tentative, but quickly turned desperate. Before he knew it, Dominic was clutched tightly in Bobby's arms, his mouth being completely possessed.
When Bobby finally let go and pulled back, he smiled and said, "I'll give you a call tomorrow. You gotta remember that nothing lasts forever, Dominic."
Dominic nodded and said, "I know." And he did know that, but that
didn't mean he liked it.
*^*^*^*^
"Beautiful. That helps tremendously. Thanks, Chick." Dominic hung up the phone just as Helen stepped into his office. He held up a hand in a wait-a-minute gesture and finished making his notes, before giving her his full attention. The first thing he noticed was the concerned frown on her face. "What? What's wrong?"
"Mick Leary just called and left a message for you. Bobby was injured taking in a suspect, and he's been taken to the hospital."
Fear, bright as a sunrise, shot through him and he forced a calming breath into suddenly constricted lungs. He had to think right now, not feel. He could feel later. All he could think were questions, "What happened? Where'd they take him? Why'd Mick call me?"
Helen told him the name of the hospital and then said, "I guess he thought you'd want to know."
Dominic let this surprising bit of information distract him from his worry. "What does Mick know about me and Bobby? How'd he find out?"
"Well, he's a detective, so maybe he detected? I don't know. I didn't ask."
"First you, now Mick. Who else knows?"
"No one that I'm aware of. Umm... maybe Sunny, if Mick mentioned it to her. I already talked to Patricia and told her you might be late."
"Late for *what*?" Dominic couldn't be bothered worrying about whether his ex-wife also knew and couldn't remember a single thing on his schedule. He couldn't think of anything but Bobby. Wondering how he was and what had happened to him.
"You were supposed to go over the autopsy on that John Doe with her later this afternoon."
"Yeah, okay, I remember now. That'll keep until morning." Dominic looked at the papers and files on his desk and then back up at Helen.
"Go. See about Bobby." She smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure it's not too bad or Mick would have said something."
Dominic smiled and took the hope she offered. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right." And he thought to himself that Bobby would be okay. He just had to be, otherwise Dominic didn't know what he'd do.
*^*^*^*
Something in his eyes must have warned the nurse that he wouldn't take no for an answer, because she made only a token protest before leading Dominic through the big swinging doors. A doctor gave them a distracted nod as he walked out of a small treatment room making notes on a clipboard in his hand. The nurse motioned to the still open door and said, "Detective Marlowe's in there, sir."
Dominic thanked her absently and went in, shutting the door behind him. Relief made his knees shaky when he saw Bobby sitting up, wearing a white T-shirt dotted with blood. He had a square white bandage taped to his forehead and smudges of drying blood on his face and in his hair. The skin around his left eye was swollen and already turning purple. With an unsettling flash of horror, Dominic noticed the amount of blood--great scarlet streaks and splotches drying to a maroonish brown-- on the button down shirt that had been tossed carelessly on the end of the bed.
"It's not as bad as it looks," said Bobby quickly. "You know how head wounds bleed a lot. And some of it's not mine."
Yes, Dominic knew that, and he'd never been squeamish about the sight of blood. He couldn't afford to be in his job, but this was Bobby's blood so all bets were off. Swallowing hard, he moved closer to stand next to the bed. "Bobby. Are you all right? What happened?"
"I'm fine--ten stitches and a mild concussion. I screwed up and lost control of a suspect for just a minute. That's all it took, about a minute." Bobby rubbed at one shoulder as if it was hurting too, but he didn't say anything about it. "He's in another one of these rooms, probably strapped down and sedated until he comes off that angel dust high he's riding."
Dominic plucked at the bloody shirt with fingers gone suddenly nerveless and wondered if Bobby would let him touch him. Ordinarily, he wouldn't even think about it, but after their recent troubles, he was unsure of what his reception would be. He'd driven over here half terrified that Bobby had been shot and Mick hadn't wanted him to hear over the phone. The rush of relief he'd felt in seeing Bobby not near death had mixed with the lingering strains of fear and worry to leave him confused as to how he really felt, which was somewhat like having the floor pulled out from under him. He was falling with no idea where he'd land.
"Dominic...hey, Dominic," Bobby said in a tone that implied this was not the first time he'd spoken. He reached out and took Dominic's hand off the shirt and held it, grounding Dominic in a most reassuring way. "Why did you come-- I mean, how'd you know I was here?"
"Mick Leary called and left a message with Helen. I dropped everything and came right over," answered Dominic, paying more attention to the strong grip of Bobby's hand than what he was saying.
"Mick...? He wasn't there. Musta heard something over the radio. But how'd he know to call you?"
"I don't know. I didn't talk to him. Look, what difference does it make? I'm glad he did." Dominic forgot about his earlier fear of rejection and gave Bobby a light kiss on the lips. He pulled back and carefully watched Bobby, who closed his eyes and sighed.
"I'm sorry." Bobby's head was bowed and his voice came out barely above a whisper, but Dominic was close enough to hear the words clearly. They were slivers of broken glass working under his skin, cutting ever so subtly. He closed his own eyes and wished he hadn't come after all. If Bobby didn't want him here...
"You know, about last night. I was all screwed up--still am, but..." Bobby stroked the back of Dominic's hand and his voice was quiet and conciliatory, a cool balm to Dominic's aching heart. "I never meant to hurt you, Dominic. It's just that anyone I get too close to...well, they leave, they die, something... Nothing lasts forever, but I've got a worse track record than most. We've always been casual, and you've always been... around. I was--*am* afraid to tempt fate by changing things now."
Dominic put his free hand on the back of Bobby's head, stroking the nape of his neck soothingly as he said, "I can't make any promises, Bobby. If anything," he cast a significant glance at the bandage, "I have more reason to be scared of losing you. But I'm not going to let that consume my every thought. There's no future in it."
Bobby nodded and looked down at their joined hands. "I'm also sorry for saying it wasn't about me and then *making* it about me. That was...that was selfish, huh?"
"Yeah, well, we all have our moments." Dominic could be magnanimous because it appeared he would be getting what he wanted. He also knew--from years of experience-- that Bobby's bouts of self-absorbed misery didn't usually last too long. He just needed someone around to keep him from being self-destructive when the mood kicked in. Of course, none of this rationalization had occurred to Dominic when he was hurt and angry from the way Bobby was acting. It was only after the storm had passed that the damage could be assessed with an objective eye. He started to say something else, but a sound outside the door made him draw away just before the nurse came back.
"I've got your paperwork here, Detective Marlowe. Some forms to sign." The matronly woman handed Bobby a clipboard and pen, waited until he'd scribbled his name a few times and then handed him some loose sheets of paper. "And some instructions. I see from your records that you probably know all about how important it is to keep those stitches dry."
"Yes, ma'am." Bobby gave her a slight smile that turned into a wince when he shrugged.
Dominic frowned and asked, "What's wrong with your shoulder? Did the doctor look at it, too?"
"Yeah. I just wrenched it trying to get the cuffs on." He turned back to the nurse. "Hey, what's the status of that prisoner that came in with me?"
"He's under sedation and there are two policemen in the room with him. You'll be notified the moment he wakes up, but it will be several hours. You should go home and get some rest."
"Nah, I'm fine. I can go back to work," Bobby insisted, rubbing at the dried blood sticking his hair to his temple.
"That's funny, because when your boss called he said you'd say that very thing. And I'm to give you the message that he doesn't want to see your face until Monday."
"But that's four days from now. I can't take off in the middle of a case."
She smiled sweetly and reminded him, "Doctor McKay concurs with that order. Enjoy your time off, detective." With a jaunty wave, she left them alone again.
"Shit. What am I supposed to do now?" Bobby got off the bed with a quiet groan that may have been from pain or from irritation. He picked up his shirt, shook his head, and tossed it in a wastebasket marked 'Hazardous Materials'.
"You know, what you could do is take the advice given and go home. I'm here to give you a ride, and I can help you get settled."
Bobby sighed and said, "So you're going to take care of me again? Is this the pattern we're doomed to repeat? Because--while I do appreciate it--I'm getting tired of it."
"I could let you go back to work and face your sergeant's wrath," offered Dominic.
"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful...just that I'm tired of needing to be taken care of. I mean, I don't *need* it, but if you're offering anyway... I do need a ride."
"I'm offering." Dominic smiled and thought that he couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't offer.
*^*^*^*
"So what happened? Did you have a near-death experience that made you think 'if I get out of this alive, I'm gonna apologize to Dominic because I finally understand--here at the moment of death--how much he means to me'? Is that how it went?"
Pressing a cold damp cloth to his face, Bobby gave Dominic an incredulous look out of his good eye. "Ha. No."
"Come on, Bobby, you can tell me," Dominic laughed as he sat down in the chair beside the sofa where Bobby was currently stretched out.
"My life was never in danger today. Okay, maybe for like a half a minute before my backup got into position." Bobby's voice sounded a little rough, and Dominic wondered how truthful he was being about the danger. He knew exactly what a dusted guy was capable of, had seen plenty of them back in his time in narcotics. But if Bobby wanted to downplay it, he'd let him. "I've been thinking about you--us-- ever since I left your place yesterday."
"So you admit there's an 'us'."
"Of course, 'you' plus 'me' equals 'us'." Bobby shot him a grin. "That's elementary grammar."
"Bobby..."
"I still won't say it."
"Me neither. You're stubborn, you know that?"
"Well, *you* could give lessons. So we ought to get along just fine."
"Or kill each other." Dominic leaned forward so that he could make direct eye contact when he said, "Next time you feel...like you need some space, just tell me, all right? I don't want to go through all this again. Helen's about ready to kick my ass for being in such a sustained bad mood."
"No offense, but I think she could probably do it," is all Bobby said, but Dominic could tell that his point had gotten through, so he casually added,
"She knows about us. That's why she turned you down." Dominic wasn't bothered by Helen's knowledge of their relationship, but he wondered if Bobby would be.
That didn't seem to be the case because Bobby stayed completely relaxed. He smiled and said, "I'm, uh... I'm glad she did. And I'm glad you didn't stay dumped."
"Not half as much as I am," Dominic assured him with a kiss. Then
he went to the kitchen to make tea.
The End.