Title: Couch Cuddle
Author/pseudonym: Juli
Fandom: Diagnosis Murder
Pairing: Jesse/Steve
Rating: PG
Status: New, Complete
Archive: Yes, to BBQ Bob’s and Steve & Jesse’s Abode
E-mail address for feedback: challisgal@yahoo.com
Series/Sequel: None
Other websites: None
Disclaimers: "Diagnosis Murder" and its characters belong to Viacom and CBS. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: The lovers decide to take a car trip.
****************

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Steve Sloan took his eyes off the road just long enough to look at his lover with an statement that was half exasperation and half fondness.

"Because," Jesse explained cheerfully, the tangle of road maps he'd become wrapped in not cooperating with his attempts to fold them back up, "we both had a week off and no special plans and I've heard San Francisco's beautiful in the summer."

The detective turned his attention back to his driving. "Why by car? Why not just hop on a plane?"

"Steve!" Jesse looked up from his labyrinth of paper, his blond hair tousled from the struggle to wrest some sort of control over the stubborn maps. "Where's the romance in that? How can you resist the lure of the open road? Sunshine... blue sky... moseying on down the highway... just the two of us and the radio..."

The older man couldn't help but respond to his lover's enthusiasm. "Having you all to myself for a few hours instead of being cooped up with strangers on an airplane? Yeah, I can see the benefits to that."

"Now you've got the spirit," Jesse encouraged him. "We're two gay men living in California, San Francisco's like Mecca. We've just *got* to go visit and pay our respects. Besides, I've never been to Frisco before."

Steve took a hand off the wheel and reached over to pat the young doctor's knee. "Sometimes I forget that you weren't born in California, Jess. You just adapted so thoroughly, and so quickly. But let me give you one word of advice: don't call it Frisco. The natives don't like that."

"Okay," Jesse agreed easily, not really caring what he called the city as long as the two of them were going. With a look of disgust, he gave up on the maps, wadded them up into a ball, and threw the whole mess into the back seat. Grinning at his mate, he declared, "Getting there is going to be half the fun."

The other man smiled at him fondly. "You didn't take many road trips when you were a kid, did you, Jess?"

The smaller man got a wistful look on his face. "No," he said softly. "My dad traveled a lot, so when he got time off, he didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't even get outside Illinois until I graduated from medical school."

Steve could have kicked himself for his thoughtless remark, hating the sad statement in Jesse's blue eyes. "Well, let me tell you, since you're an only child, you wouldn't have gotten the full car trip experience anyway."

"What do you mean?"

The detective chuckled. "What I mean is that you should thank your lucky stars that you didn't have to share the back seat with your younger sister while your father, who happens to be a great doctor but a lousy navigator, got lost on the way to visit the Grand Canyon."

Good cheer restored, Jesse smiled. "That bad, huh?"

Steve pretended to shudder. "You have *no* idea. No one could see it, but there was a border line that divided the back seat. It didn't matter if it was invisible, we'd each know if the other crossed over into our territory and we'd scream bloody murder. And we were both convinced that the other one had more room and we'd fight about that too. It'd get so bad that even my dad's patience would run out. He'd turn around and say 'You kids knock that off. If I have to pull this car over and come back there, there's going to be trouble.'"

"Mark," Jesse laughed in disbelief, "actually said that? I thought that people only said that line in the movies."

The older man held up one hand as a pledge of his honesty. "Honest to God. Happened at least one time each trip."

"So, did he ever really do it?" The doctor asked. "Pull the car over and make you behave?"

"Nah," Steve replied. "He was always muttering something about 'gotta make time, gotta make time.'" When Jesse looked at him skeptically, Steve shrugged and explained, "Back then, Dad wasn't quite so laid back. Besides, there were more two lane highways in those days. If you pulled over for any reason, sure enough the RV creeping along at 15 mph below the posted speed limit would get in front of you... usually just as you entered a no passing zone."

Jesse sighed. "With those kind of memories, no wonder you hesitated when I suggested we drive to San Francisco. You should have said something."

His lover was silent while he thought about it for a moment, but then Steve Sloan shook his head. "No, I'm not being fair. There were a lot of good memories on those trips too. Like napping curled up together like puppies -- when we forgot about the invisible line, that is. Or playing the license plate game. Or stopping at every A&W we saw for root beer." Steve resolutely refrained from mentioning the memorable time his sister Carol got car sick from reading comic books in a moving vehicle and threw up her root beer all over her older brother. A road trip rookie like Jesse didn't need to hear details like that. "So, now that we've established that we're going to have fun getting to San Francisco, what do you have planned for us after we arrive?"

Jesse fished out his guide book. "There's lots to do. We can take a bus over the Golden Gate bridge and then walk back across it. Hey, we can even walk by the Presidio and all the way down to Fisherman's Wharf. Cool."

"We could visit Alcatraz," Steve suggested.

His companion rolled his eyes. "I'll make you a deal, Steve," Jesse said. "I won't drag you to any medicine-related stuff and you don't drag me anywhere police-related like a prison. Even an abandoned one. This is a vacation and I have no intention of turning it into a working holiday. I love your dad, but he finds a body every time he turns around and that's a habit I'd really rather not get into.... oh, man."

Steve turned to Jesse, easily detecting the note of distress that had crept into the younger man's voice. Having just been reminded of the unpleasant consequences of car sickness, he became worried at the pained statement on the doctor's face. "Jess, you okay?"

"Yeah," the other man admitted, "but why'd you let me drink so much coffee at breakfast?"

The detective looked at his mate in amused relief. "You mean, you need a bathroom?"

Jesse blushed, "Yeah."

Steve's lips quivered with the effort not to smile. "I thought I told you to go before we left."

The younger man smacked him on the shoulder. "That's not funny, smartass."

The rumble sounding in Steve's chest as he tried to suppress his laughter said otherwise, but he didn't belabor the point. "Okay. I saw a billboard for a McDonalds a ways back, there should be one coming up in about 20 miles or so. Can you wait that long?"

Jesse squirmed in his seat, both from embarrassment and physical discomfort. "But can't you just, you know, pull over for a minute so I can take care of it?"

"I am not," Steve said firmly, "taking the chance of a state trooper citing us for public urination. They don't particularly like city cops and would just love to learn they nailed one for whizzing. Besides, I can't believe a doctor would suggest something so unsanitary."

"What about a gas station? Won't there be one of those coming up before a McDonalds"

Steve smiled. "Listen and learn, babe. McDonalds isn't only known for golden arches, it's also known for its golden bathrooms."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, Jess. A gas station on a interstate highway relies on through traffic for its customers, people who aren't likely to come back one way or another. Clean bathrooms aren't a priority. A fast food place, though, relies more on the locals... who would potentially be put off by a mess in the john. Trust me, unless you're *really* hurting, you'd want a McDonalds over a gas station any day. Can you wait that long?"

"Okay."

Jesse's voice hadn't sounded convinced and Steve reached one arm out to the younger man, inviting him closer. "C'mere, babe. I'll distract you and we'll be there before you know it."

The doctor had undone his seatbelt and started to slide over when something occurred to him. "Hey, I thought you said no sex while you were driving?"

The night before, Jesse hadn't known whether to be entertained or offended when Steve had lectured him about the hazards of fooling around while someone was behind the wheel. The cop had made it clear that there were to be no blow or hand jobs while the car was in motion. Jesse had been in complete agreement with that pronouncement. Call him narcissistic, but when he had Steve's cock in his hand or mouth, he wanted the older man to be completely focused on him and not the road.

"Who said anything about sex?" Steve countered. "I was just talking about snuggling, babe."

"Oh," Jesse acknowledged. "That's okay then."

Steve almost purred in contentment as he felt the warmth of his lover's body press along his side. Draping an arm across Jesse's shoulders, he pulled the doctor even closer, both of them sighing as the smaller man rested his head on Steve's shoulder.

An open road in front of him... a blue sky above... his lover tucked up against him, right where he belonged....

Jesse was right. Getting to San Francisco *was* going to be half the fun.

~the end~