Disclaimers: They belong to Tom Fontana (whom I worship and adore),
not me
(whom I can barely live with). Used without permission.
Warning: A few religious thoughts of a somewhat Catholic bent...nothing
blasphemous-- I don't think so anyway.
Feedback to jb7811@bellsouth.net
Thanks to Mouse and Nicole for most excellent beta.
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"So Murphy...what about Whittlesey?" Ryan pointed his chin toward
the
blonde CO who had just walked into Em City, carrying some papers to
the
central guard station.
"What about her, O'Reilly?" Sean stopped watching the prisoners
in the quad
long enough to glance at Ryan quizzically.
"You think she's hot?"
""She's...pretty...yeah, I guess she's hot."
"What? You guess, but you don't know?"
"Well, she's not exactly my...uh...type." Sean bit the inside
of his lip,
wondering what kind of insanity had seized him to admit such a thing
to an
inmate.
"Oh, really? And what would be your...uh...type?"
Sean smiled slightly at Ryan's mimicry, and said, "I don't think you
need to
know that."
"Why not? We're just a couple of guys shooting the breeze here,
Murphy.
What's the big deal?" Ryan gave him a crooked grin and wheedled,
"Come on,
you know *my* type."
"What's that?" Sean wondered if this were a set-up or if he could
believe
the obvious answer.
"Dark-eyed... sweet-tasting...smart...caring..." Ryan's low voice trailed
off. Sean turned to give him his full attention and was surprised
to see
Ryan's eyes sweep down Sean's body and back up to his eyes. With
a slow
smirk, he continued, "Doctors."
Staring down at the seated Ryan, Sean swallowed around the lump in his
throat and hoped the effect those words had on him didn't show.
He suddenly
felt very warm and anxious to get away, but he couldn't let Ryan know
that
he could get to him so easily. He had to continue the conversation
just
long enough so that he could move on with some dignity left intact.
But the
little devil on Sean's shoulder urged him to mess with Ryan a little
bit.
"You wanna know my type?" Lowering his voice, Sean leaned over
Ryan ever so
slightly, emphasizing their positions. "The unattainable.
I love a
good...hard... challenge."
Sean bit back a smile when he noticed Ryan's ears had taken on a pink
tinge
and his crossed arms had tightened over his chest. He tilted
his head and
stared at Ryan for a moment. "Truthfully? I have a thing for...
Oh, you
know what? I shouldn't be telling you this."
Ryan's eyes narrowed and tension threaded his voice. "You can't
just leave
it there."
With evil glee because his mindfuckery seemed to be working, Sean licked
his
lips and repeated, just above a whisper, "I have a thing for...nuns.
Yes,
Sister Peter Marie and her sisters of the veil are the ultimate paragons
of
womanhood."
"You...Sister Pete?" Sean nodded solemnly and Ryan snickered.
"You're a
sick fuck."
"Considering the source, O'Reilly, I'm considering the source." Sean
laughed
as he turned to make another circuit through Em City, but a tentative
hand
on his arm stopped him.
"You wouldn't... I mean, come on, Murphy. Sister Pete?"
"No, unlike the rest of you jokers in here, I have some self-control."
Sean
lightened the snarky comment with a self-deprecating smile. "Besides,
look
who she's married to."
Sean walked away saying an Our Father in his head for the mild blasphemy
and
then said a Hail Mary for the lie. He did not have a thing for
Sister Pete
at all. She actually reminded him a bit of his mother, and he
had nothing
but respect for her. In fact, he had a thing for Ryan O'Reilly.
Instead of an Our Father, he should have been saying an Act of Contrition.
But there could be no true contrition for his desire for the unattainable
Ryan, because Sean couldn't *stop* it. Contrition was only valid
if one
promised to stop doing the sin. Ryan O'Reilly was a walking example
of the
Near Occasion of Sin. Whenever he was around, Sean was tempted,
so sorely
tempted to break a whole lot of rules--the State's, the Church's, and
his
own. His only hope was not to act on the temptation, keep it
all in his
head and heart.
He had to let Ryan remain an unattainable fantasy--not a challenge to
be
won, or a goal to be conquered. He just wished the temptation
wasn't so
great and so near.
The End.