by Jami Wilsen

Victor lay awake, unable to sleep as restlessness gripped him and he shifted uncomfortably in bed. It was late. It was far too late at night to be awake, and he desperately wanted to sleep. Couldn't, because of the same old tiresome problem.

It was simple. A very simple, tiresome problem that needed a simple solution. He was alone, very alone. Had been since Li Ann had dumped him, in fact. He wanted someone to lie next to, someone warm and huggable. Someone to touch. Someone who would touch him; hold him close. He wanted more than that, too. Someone to make love to. Someone to make love to him. Was it really such an extraordinary thing to want? Someone who would be there for longer than one night or five? Or ten? He wanted someone who would stay with him, for God's sake.

The answer wouldn't have been very complicated if there hadn't been a little hiccup. There was only one person at the moment that could assuage this longing, and Vic was under no illusions that he shared his feelings.

Mac.

What a cliché, he thought. How banal, to fall for the man who was his ex's ex. It was pathetic, much like he felt most of the time around the scintillating and brilliant younger man. His partner. In a three-way team with his ex, and hers. God, there was something so warped about it, that all three of them should be romantically entangled like that... Wait, that was not entirely true. For he and Mac hadn't been romantically anything, ever. Except in his head. Over and over again, in every possible position. Every night for the past... several months? Longer? Since Li Ann dumped him? Had it been that long? He wondered if there was a connection between losing Li Ann and falling for Mac. That was it: Mac was just his rebound; it wasn't serious.

But this didn't explain the depth of the longing. Or the fact that it was another man. He was straight, wasn't he? He wanted much more than a one-night stand. He wanted more than a 'relationship'. He wanted to possess him and keep him and wanted Mac to feel the same way for him. It was just a fantasy, of course.

Mac was irritating beyond belief sometimes, juvenile in his manner and entirely frustrating to be around for too long. Vic couldn't imagine that sharing an apartment with him would be anything but an aggravation. Vic went out of his way to let him know it, too. This was mostly because Vic didn't dare show much approval for anything Mac did. He was worried it might be taken out of context or be seen for what it was: open appreciation. He did have a certain amount of respect for Mac and had not always hidden it. But lately he'd found himself on a very short fuse with him. Mostly because of the frustration he felt, being around him and unable to do anything about it or about how Mac's nearness made him feel. And also because he was slightly afraid. He wasn't ashamed of wanting him. But he knew that there was a simple rule governing his life: Everyone left him. In the end, everyone always did. What was the point of another attempt to build a solid relationship with anyone when they always left? It just seemed pointless even to try after a while.

Especially with someone like Mac. The playboy.

Yet, here he was, still unable to stop conjuring the most intense and vivid ideas of what he'd like to do with him, if only he had him here in this bed. Or Mac's bed. That was a dangerous line of thought because now he found himself assailed by all sorts of intriguing possibilities of what Mac might be doing in his own bed at that very moment.

Was he alone, touching himself lazily in the same fashion Vic was currently touching his own body? Or was he with someone, a hot blonde maybe, or a dancer? A pretty redhead with long legs... or another man? No, not Mac. Mac was far too popular with the girls and even though some men glanced his way, he had far too much female company to choose from. To warm his bed. To be with him in the dark, in his bed. Naked and flushed and warm and...

It didn't matter, because all that counted was that he, Victor, was not. Not in bed with the playboy, the delicious and funny and lovable...

He stopped himself in surprise. Lovable? Fuck, he thought, realization dawning sickeningly. Since when had the name 'Mac Ramsey' come to be synonymous with the word 'love' in his mind? Mac. Mac Ramsey. Annoying, irritating and eminently fuckable Mac.

It wasn't the same as love. No way. It was lust, yeah, that was it. It was a crush, just a crush. That's all it was.

So why was he laying here alone, twisting under his sheets, roughly calling out Mac's name as he brought himself quickly to orgasm with one hand pumping his cock and one finger thrust into his ass, just like the night before? And why was it every night he'd tried to think of anyone else, the one thought, the only one, that finally brought him off was that of Mac leaning over him, his ankles thrown up over Mac's shoulders while Mac pounded his ass? Actually, there was one variation: sometimes he imagined himself on his knees with Mac thrusting into him from behind. Tame, really. Hardly adventurous, as far as fantasies go; basic and rough, but God, how he wanted it. So badly he could taste him, could virtually taste the sweat and the heat and the nearness of him. Taste his come as he finally came himself, spilling into his own hand. Mac!

For a little while he was hot and happy; panting, smiling, allowing the flow of heat to circulate delightfully around his body. Afterwards, far too soon afterwards, empty and cold; to have to face yet again that it was a soap bubble image dissipating into the shadows of his room. Replaced by the oh-so-familiar lonely ache that returned with stale realism and over-familiarity of objects and the covers, the empty bed. The knowledge that if he were to try to share this excitement, his longing, with the object of his affections, Mac would probably...

What? Be disgusted? Reject him? Laugh? Make a joke of it? Stare at him seriously and claim that he was nuts? Worry that he'd fixated on him out of desperation?

He already knew that Mac considered him strait-laced, conservative and boring, as well as predictable. He briefly wondered how surprised Mac might be to discover that his boring, conservative partner, his predictable fellow team member, was in lov— ...lust; lust, damn it... with him... oh God. Love.

That elusive, dreamy concept that always fled. Whenever he imagined it was finally his, he turned his back just long enough to let it slip away. That's how it had happened with Li Ann. One moment they were together; the next, she was going through changes or some crap. Needing to find herself, no doubt. While he found himself alone, again. Why couldn't he keep her? Maybe it was his subconscious desire to be with Mac that had ended up pushing her away? But no, that couldn't be it. He hadn't really begun noticing how much he loved to watch Mac move until...

God, it had been when they met. Sparks had flown; the energy between them had been so fiery, so dynamic. His relationship with Li Ann was gentle and tender in comparison. He wanted to have both from the same person, not divided between them. Now he didn't even have Li Ann's affection and he was suffering from the scorching he received when he tried to re-ignite the level of intensity in his exchanges with Mac. If anything a careful unspoken truce that had been so delicately built over time was threatened now. Because he wanted him so badly it was a painful, burning ache in his chest. Because he couldn't stop turning every conversation they had into a needling match, each trying to have the last word, to be one-up on the other. Because it took such an effort not to fling himself at Mac and beg him to fuck him— one night, just one night!— touch me, hold me, please—

And he sighed, closing his eyes to shut out the darkness of the room with its solitary enclosing walls. Remembered that he'd see him again tomorrow and could refuel his dreams with fresh impressions. He couldn't even determine when exactly his interest in Mac had started, let alone progressed from a grudging admiration to a full-blown physical fascination. Vic could not account for it, he couldn't explain even to himself why he wanted him. He let darkness claim him and wipe away the pain in unconsciousness for a while.

Morning was cold and gruelling, as always. Getting out of bed with tired limbs and empty eyes, trying to shake the cobwebs and clear away haunting visions left over from sleep.

He had a half-hearted breakfast and coffee, all unsatisfying because the kitchen was empty apart from him. And then he was leaving, locking the front door behind him. What a joke, he thought. A day in the life of an agent of a shadowy government agency. It was a bum rap; surely they could get written into their contract some kind of clause that stated they wouldn't have to spend their nights without company, without partners. If they couldn't have their working partners, he added to himself silently.

Ah, his truck. One of the things that was his, despite all else it was his joy; one of the things that made him an individual with his own taste and wasn't something instilled in him by the said shadowy agency. He was too serious, too clingy to keep a lover, was he? Wasn't good enough to keep anyone near him? Drove them away eventually, and always because of his needy side? Too gullible to see the inevitable, future betrayal? Well, he was positively intractable about his personal tastes and style, the things that made him feel like an individual. Actually, that was one of the things that had caused a rift between him and his father. Like the earring; a token rebellious gesture that had endured and even now remained a part of him. It made him feel he wasn't compromised by the authority of his parents, by the Director, by society, even his friends... if he really could call them such. Partners, he corrected, they were his partners.

And he wondered how Mac could accuse him of being conservative. Just because he refused to be a fashion victim like Mac, running to keep pace with the trendsetters. Well, he thought quickly, maybe that was overdoing it a bit; Mac was a good dresser. Too good, he added, running his tongue over his lips suddenly and trying to prepare himself for today's encounter as he neared the agency's headquarters. God, another day of temptation and trying not to look too long upon forbidden places.

His hands itched to cup that perfect, tight little ass under those silk trousers, black jeans, hell— whatever Mac was wearing. To mould themselves to those buns and draw him close to him while Mac's arms went around him and their lips collided and their hips, too...

He narrowly avoided colliding his truck with the streetlight that was standing innocently in his path.

Li Ann and Mac were already waiting there when he finally made it into the room without further incident. He casually sat down in the chair on Li Ann's right, ignoring the way Mac slouched so indolently and effortlessly in his own. As always. But it was getting harder to feign disinterest. Vic had to spend more effort ignoring him and he was beginning to worry that this would be noticed.

No sooner had he sat down than the Director made her entrance. Interestingly, she was dressed neatly and almost conservatively in a tasteful cream silk blouse and dark trousers, a simple black silk scarf adorning her throat. Her hair was up too, in an elegant configuration. She looked... nice. Vic found himself trying not to notice. Hell, if he was even starting to find her attractive, he was in deep trouble. He was too horny; he had to do something about this. The woman was a man-eater and would discard him without a second thought. Why the hell was he... oh, right. Ramsey. Another clever attempt of his subconscious mind to pretend he wasn't sublimating like crazy.

"Victor, please close your mouth and try not to drool on my table. Li Ann, that's a lovely shade of lipstick you're wearing today. Mac," she stopped and sat down, tapping her finger against her lips.

Mac nervously returned her gaze. "What?"

"I have a dangerous mission for you. One that will require the backup of one of your fellow team-members. I think you, Li Ann, would be the perfect partner to assist him."

Vic looked from one to other, wondering if he should be pleased or worried that this didn't seem to include him.

The Director enlightened him a moment later. "It seems that you are in need of some training in the placement of night devices and covert surveillance, Mac. It would seem also that Vic can't control his violent impulses and keeps taking them out on my nifty cameras. They cost a fortune and take time to replace as well. So tonight you, with Li Ann's assistance, will replace all of them and in more strategically cunning positions, too. Then Vic will do his best afterwards to take them out. Dobrinsky will monitor your progress and report to me how successfully you disable them, Vic." At the swift look of hurt and resentment that crossed Vic's face, she added, "You may not believe me, Victor, but they are there for your safety. That is the primary reason I want them installed." She hesitated, innocently. "Did I say that? I meant re-installed."

"Yeah, right," muttered Vic, thinking 'freak' silently to himself.

She raised her eyebrows loftily at him. "Victor, it hurts my feelings that you think I don't care for your well-being. And besides, you belong to me. It is well within my interests to ensure that this agency's investment in you is safe. I'm responsible for the welfare of all of you."

Mac spoke up. "Why do I have to do it?"

Li Ann joined in also. "And why do I have to help him?"

She smiled. This in itself was terrifying. She looked relaxed and happy; there had to be a reason for it: Vic knew he really didn't want to know. "Because I want you to. Think of it as a time-out, some light relief from your usual life-threatening pursuits. Surely you can remember your Easter egg hunts, children, when you were little?"

Li Ann and Mac exchanged a cynical look. "We were too busy learning our craft," Li Ann said.

"Yeah, we didn't have Easter. We had training sessions on how to infiltrate high-security buildings and bank vaults, instead." Mac was dryly sarcastic.

Li Ann added, "And hand-to-hand combat."

"How to pick locks; blow safes."

Vic muttered, "Great childhood."

"Well, at least you know what I'm referring to, don't you, Vic?" the Director addressed him. "You can count yourself lucky that I didn't see the need for Jackie to be there tonight too."

He knew exactly what she was really talking about. She was obviously pissed at not being able to watch— correction— monitor him. He sighed. He wasn't even allowed to mope in peace. No doubt he would begin hearing reports from her each morning on how many times he called out Mac's name in his sleep. "Okay." Resignedly, he added, "What about the bugs I do find? Don't tell me we'll have to go through all of this again."

"That depends on you. For every one that you do find, I'll have Dobrinsky give you two more. So you might want to reconsider looking too hard. And remember, Vic, you are to be elsewhere other than your apartment by 7 p.m., which is when Mac and Li Ann will arrive." She smiled at Mac. "Do me proud, Mac. You know how to hide things, I know you do. Remember the Rembrandt?" She gave Mac a cool stare. He shrank under it, his face shuttered; he would never admit to that particular escapade of his, even if she tried to torture it out of him. She turned to Vic. "Before you leave, I want you all to check in with Dobrinsky for a complete weapons refit. I understand that some of them need maintenance, even replacement. Oh, and Mac? Don't try this on your own. You need Li Ann's extra help. Li Ann, you know Vic's apartment inside and out, and you're also familiar with his habits. This is why you're to be there. Surely between the two of you, you can find places to put them where Vic can't. That's all, kiddies. Mama is quite busy today so you may have the rest of the day off. Have fun. Go play." She stood, waiting.

Obviously, her appearance had something to do with her plans for the day. Perhaps she was going to blend in at some conference or lecture, or a get-together of high-powered politicians. God only knew. She might just as well have plans to join a quality inspection tour of a nuclear weapons testing facility.

Vic found himself racking his brains trying to come up with a logical explanation for the way she was dressed. Unless it was something to do with them... It was a frightening thought. She was a mistress of manipulation par excellence; he wouldn't put it past her to do it to throw them off balance. It had certainly rocked him this morning and she had definitely noticed his reaction.

They filed out, Vic feeling slightly sick. The look on both Li Ann's and Mac's faces mirrored how he felt. The sharp reminder that their privacy was so badly compromised was not pleasant. Even their personal lives were considered agency business. Vic also had to fight to keep at bay the suspicion that his recent sulking moods had brought this upon his own head. Maybe if he'd made a better job of pretending to be carefree and well adjusted, she wouldn't want to watch him so closely.

"Vic, wait up." Mac was running to catch up with him in the hall. "Let's go out for lunch, after. We can, you know, make plans. About tonight."

Vic swallowed, wondering if he dared to make a joke about that. To go out... and make plans for the evening... he knew what he'd rather be doing with him. And then thought better of it. Best that the entendres come from Mac. If he started initiating them, Mac might get ideas about him. Might even suspect that he meant it. It left a nervous, jittery feeling in the area of his stomach as they met up with Dobrinsky and visited the arsenal to pick out replacement weapons. He threw himself into the joy of selecting guns as if they were new toys. Somehow, he felt this was the Director's attempt to sweeten the jab at them.

They didn't finish until noon, Mac and Vic managing to lose themselves in the professional delight of selecting their personal arsenal. They went in his truck and left it in the nearest parking garage to their favourite eatery. Walking along the street towards the outdoor café, Mac noticed Vic's reticent, subdued attitude.

"Hey, is everything okay with you? You seem really quiet. I mean, not that it isn't like pulling teeth most of the time to get you to open up, but this is getting scary. Usually you would've tried to put me down at least once by now."

"I'm not in the mood, today," Vic said, blandly.

"Is it the Director? I know how much that bugs you, having to put up with her bugging you."

"No, it's not. Could you just drop it?"

"Sure thing, 'Moose'." Mac's smug grin was familiarly irritating.

Something gave way inside Vic at this. "Thanks, Mac, I can always count on your impeccable timing to remind me of what an ass you are," he replied angrily, letting the bitter sarcasm show in his voice.

Mac stopped and clutched at his heart. With a mock gasp, he said, "Ouch! Y— you've wounded me! That was a low blow. That was really bad. I'm not an ass, I'm an agency operative. Can't you come up with something better?"

"No more than you deserved," Vic muttered, knowing that it was hardly a comeback. "Why do you have to be so— so— " he ran out of steam.

Mac's grin was positively delighted. "Spit it out, already."

"Infuriating."

"What? How am I infuriating?! Just because I called you by Allegra's nickname— "

"Alice," Vic corrected, automatically. "And it's because you're immature. Why won't you grow up?"

Mac snapped his fingers. "Vic, you're right. When I grow up, I wanna be just like you." He shook his head. "What is with you today? Did you get out of the wrong side of the bed this morning? Jee-zus..."

Vic ignored him, striding ahead on the sidewalk. Mac ended up having to catch up with him. Finally, Mac's hand on his arm halted him. "Vic, stop. Stop a minute. Look, why don't you just tell me what it is? Whatever it is that's bothering you. Something's going on, isn't it? You're acting like you're on the rag; like you fell of the bed or something."

Vic shook him off with a sigh. "It- it's nothing, alright? Forget it. I didn't get enough sleep last night, that's all." He took a deep breath. "Really, that's all it is."

Mac regarded him dubiously. "Really."

Vic squinted at him. "You don't believe me? Fine. You don't have to." He turned away, wondering if there was something in his eyes that gave him away, that somehow betrayed to Mac how desperately he suddenly wished he could...

Break down. Confide in him. Beg him to hold him. Tell him that he meant everything in the world to him. He couldn't bear to even think of what it would do to him to lose him. If Mac was injured, or even... killed... because of a stray bullet or some crazy explosion on some future night mission or dangerous venture. He wavered indecisively, wondering what he could possibly say that Mac would buy, or would make him leave him alone. He swallowed, wondering why he was swimming in an emotional fever pitch just standing in this proximity to him and why it was so difficult to even consider talking about it. Screw this, he thought. It's all a bunch of psych bullshit, anyway.

A slow smile crossed Mac's face at last. "I've got it, I've got it!" he said, in a tone that conveyed imminently that he had Vic's number at last. And that he should be worried.

Why did he always allow Mac to get to him? Vic looked down exasperated, a slight smile born of annoyance and curiosity twisted his lips. "What?" He considered him with suspicion.

Mac folded his arms and stared at him, his head tilted to one side. "You need to get laid." When Vic started to protest, he held up his hand. "Come on, I know you. At least, I know you don't have much luck. Look, why don't you let me set you up? I could get you someone really great. There's this club I know. It's not too far from here, actually."

Mac was far too close to the truth for this to be anything but unsettling. Vic strode off once more, muttering, "I can't believe I'm listening to this."

Mac was once more keeping pace easily with his long legs. "What? Come on, Vic; whatever your taste is, I can help you get it."

"I don't need your help," he growled, somewhat frustrated that Mac wouldn't leave it. "I'm perfectly capable of finding a date."

"Just tell me what would interest you," urged Mac, getting into his new role of supportive matchmaker. "Trust me on this; I know how to do it. I can get you set up with the girl of your dreams. What would interest you? And I don't mean just looks. What kind of personality? Strange as this may sound, I don't actually know what you'd prefer. Hookers and marks are always a little too convenient. Tell me what you're really into."

Fully exasperated now, Vic rounded on him. "Look, I don't need to be set up on a blind date— as kind an offer as that is, coming from you. It won't help!"

Mac regarded him seriously and quietly replied, "What would, Vic? It's obviously starting to affect your performance."

Vic stood, his mouth slightly open and his breath held, wondering what on earth had possessed him to lose it enough to say that. Finally, he let his breath out in a rush. "Mac, thank you. But I don't need to get laid. That's not— it's not what you think."

"Well, come on, buddy, talk to me. What is it?"

He pursed his lips and considered the sidewalk between them before looking up at him, right in the face. "That's just it. We aren't buddies, are we? We're partners, not friends. Not really. I mean, come on. You don't even like me. We hang out only because there isn't anyone else to hang out with, apart from Li Ann... and frankly I don't want to hang out with her!"

A little shadow crossed Mac's face. Oh shit; he hadn't meant to say that the way it sounded. He quickly said, "Mac, it isn't you. I'd take a bullet for you; you know that. It's that I'm not allowed to find friends who I would like to spend time with. Christ, I already spend hours of my spare time looking for bugs and hidden surveillance devices and disabling them. Now she's got us doing it as a job." He stopped at Mac's smile. "What, don't you?"

"Nah, I don't bother. Hey, if it gives her a thrill, so what— you know? I'm tired of hiding from her. She's pathetic— terrifying, yes, but also pathetic. A twisted leather voyeur who can only get off watching her agents get off." He was the one who turned this time and started down the street once more. "I'm not saying I'm into exhibitionism but there's only so far I can be bothered to care."

Vic offered up a silent prayer that he had managed to disable all the bugs in his place, before today. He really didn't need the Director lecturing him on calling out Mac's name when he came. Particularly in front of Mac and Li Ann... But he knew his candid response had hurt Mac. He could see it in the way Mac grimly strode down the sidewalk. He tried to think of what he could say to make up for it.

When they got to the café, Mac turned to him. "I'm not all that hungry, actually. Listen, why don't you go ahead. I'll— I'll come over later. We can talk at your place. After all, you're the one who's bug-free, right?" He gave Vic a little smile, meant to convey camaraderie.

Mac didn't fool him though. Instead, Vic found himself frowning and biting his lip. "Hey, Mac, come on. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Let's have lunch, okay?" He took a breath. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I'll pay."

Mac stopped and regarded him with surprise. "What did you just say?"

Vic was puzzled. "I said I'd spring for lunch. It's on me."

"No, before that." Mac grinned again. "Vic! That's the second time you've apologized to me. Now I just know something's up. Right, let's order and then I want to know what's going on. And I want the real story this time."

Vic sighed. "Sure." He felt like giving up at this point. He couldn't win; had Mac only been pouting to try and get to him?

Ordering sandwiches and drinks, they sat down at a table outside in the sun. Mac didn't waste any time. "Spill it, Vic. Why are you in such a bad mood?"

Vic looked up at him and found himself lost for words. He could dissemble, pretend any old crap and it still wouldn't change the fact that he wanted him and couldn't have him. And that it would continue to make him cranky, surly and generally exhausted from lack of sleep. Beating off in the dark just couldn't cut it. In fact, it was still in his head, too. He wasn't even sure he could handle the thought of actually physically doing anything with him. He was straight, or had thought so. It was just a warped projection of need. Mac was right; he just needed to get laid. But maybe there was a way... "I'm not getting much sleep these days. Or, nights," he corrected. "You're right, you're half-right— I do need to get laid. But before you get all excited about this," he said quickly as Mac sat up with a gleam in his eye, "I've already got someone in mind. In fact, that's the problem. My— my 'dream girl' is kind of out of reach."

"So, you can't sleep, you're in a foul mood, you're touchy with everyone... Oh man, are you— " Mac stared at him, the light coming on upstairs. "Vic? Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He grinned, evilly. "Are you in lo-ooove?"

Vic inhaled, trying to ready himself for the certainty of Mac's barrage of questions and incessant nagging as to this unknown person's identity. But hopefully he could just stall him indefinitely now. "No. I'm not. It's just a crush. It doesn't mean anything. It isn't serious. Okay, genius, you can stop congratulating yourself," he said, gruffly.

Mac actually wiggled in his seat with excitement. "Oh, come on, you can't just leave it at that. Who is she? Where'd you meet her? What's she like? What does she look like? Does she like you?"

And here we go, Vic thought. How to play this one? "She doesn't know."

Mac's brows went up and he regarded him from beneath them. "She doesn't? Oh, Vic, Vic," he sighed, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

Vic crinkled his brows in that little way he had. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mac drank from his bottle. "You have to tell her if you want to get anywhere. How's she supposed to give you an answer if she doesn't even know you're interested?"

"Maybe you didn't understand. I'm in love with her. I can't just walk up to her and say, 'hey, babe, fancy spending the rest of our lives together?' That would put anyone off.'" He threw him a wry glance before returning to watch the passing people. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. It wasn't love. It wasn't.

"Then how do you know it's love? Sounds like just a crush, to me." Mac regarded him with a knowing grin. "Vic, what are we going to do with you? You have to give her a chance to get used to you before throwing a line like that one. Spend some time with her, take her out. Get to know her."

Vic gave him a dry smile. "The last time I tried that, the lady in question left me."

Understanding was reflected in Mac's eyes. Li Ann. He tried another tack. "Do I know her? It's not... Jesus, Vic. It isn't Jackie, is it? Oh God, say it isn't so!"

Vic gave him a look of horror. "Please, give me a little credit."

Mac paused, looking out over the street. "I've thought about her."

"Yeah, so've I."

Their eyes met.

"No way." Mac was adamant.

"No way in hell," Vic agreed.

Mac continued to try the process of elimination. "It's Li Ann, isn't it? You never got over her; you're pining to regain what you lost."

"Nope. Wrong again."

"The Director? I saw the way you looked at her this morning. She was dressed like someone you would like, today. No twisted leather, no whips or chains or even heels. Nice and classy, clean. Almost conservative. Your type."

"Third strike... and you're out, Mac. C'mon, I'm not going to make it a guessing game."

"Then stop making me guess and just tell me," urged Mac, impatiently. He really wanted to know, now. After all, someone who could capture Vic's attention this badly had to be worthy of it. Vic's standards were high— too high. It had to be someone worth saving, someone whose overall value included a measure of integrity and nobility that he could look up to, or a cause that he could invest in.

Vic bit his lip and looked down, regarding his uneaten lunch. He'd been picking at it. Now his appetite was gone. Why was he being so stupid as to actually discuss this with him at all? "It's not that simple.

She's... special. She's not like other girls." That wasn't a lie. 'He' wasn't a 'she'. "It means more to me than just a night, otherwise I would have said something a long time ago."

"I get that part. But who is it? Do I know her? You can tell me that, at least."

"Okay," Vic gave in. "You do know her. But I'm not going to tell you who it is, so you can stop with the guessing." For a brief, dangerous moment, he actually felt the urge to tell him, to just let Mac deal with it. But he still had to work with him, still had to look at him every day. He wasn't sure he could risk baring himself like that and possibly making himself vulnerable, more than ever before, to Mac's razor wit and smart-ass comments. Mac already considered Vic pathetic enough without adding 'lovesick fool' to his repertoire of opinions of him.

"I can still help you get her," Mac declared, solemnly. And then added seriously, "If you want her, that is. What's she like?"

Vic gave a laugh. "Everything I'm not," he said. "You probably couldn't find anyone more opposite to me than she is."

"They do say opposites attract. C'mon, details."

"Funny, smart, outgoing, lively, good-looking," Vic rattled off, quickly, and added, "Much better dresser. You get the picture."

Mac grimaced. "She's not the problem, then. You are. I mean, there you sit, running yourself down. Now I know for sure it's true love. Otherwise you wouldn't be saying you don't deserve her."

"I didn't say that," Vic protested. "I'm just not her type."

"She doesn't sound like your type, either. So why do you love her?"

Vic shrugged. "I just do. Can't choose love, you know."

"Well, so long as you realize that she's the one who doesn't deserve you."

Vic shot him a look of disparagement. "How do you know? I mean, for all you know she could be a much better person than I am."

Mac stared at him sardonically. "Please. Better than you? Mr. Nobility, who could run for the nomination of integrity's spokesman and win? That's a moral impossibility. Someone more straight-arrow and true blue than you, Vic? I'd give anything to see that. And now I know it's true love because there isn't anyone I know who matches that description. I think you've put her on a pedestal."

Vic shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I never said she was better than me. I only said she might be. Let's just drop it, alright?"

Mac was smiling and shaking his head. "I gotta know, now. Vic, you've gotta tell me. Now I'm going to be the one who can't sleep."

"Blame yourself. You're the one who kept pushing. Let's get back to the real problem, which is the Director's obsession with spying on her agents... Namely, me. We already know she watches you. Now she wants to get me on tape as well."

"Well, since you don't have any bugs there right now, I vote we go over and I can tell you where I plan to put them so you can take them out later. Makes sense to team up on this one, yeah?"

Vic couldn't help wondering at this. "Mac, why? Why should you care whether or not she's watching me?"

Mac shrugged and finished his bottle, downed the last of his sandwich. "Because it matters to you." He looked over at Vic's unfinished food and tutted. "Not eating, not sleeping. You've got it bad, lover-boy."

Somehow, hearing that phrase aimed at him pass through Mac's lips did something to his insides. Turned them to jelly, made him stay still for a moment. He knew it wasn't serious, and he could even take offence, make a comeback. But he wanted to indulge in the warmth of it, even if it was for a few seconds. And then realized what a complete and utter idiot he was becoming. Mac didn't mean it at all. It was at that point Vic isolated what he really wanted from Mac. He wanted Mac to care about him. That was the basis for this 'crush'. Nothing more. He stood up abruptly. "Let's go," he said curtly, almost as if in disgust.

"Okay, okay. Keep your knickers on, sheesh." Mac grinned at him.

As they walked back up the street to the parking garage, Vic murmured, "That's my line."

"I know. That's why I used it." Mac impatiently said, "So, what are the odds that it is Li Ann?"

Vic snorted. "You and I both know that neither of us stand a chance."

Mac nodded. "I know. That's what I mean. She fits the profile perfectly. You had her before and now that she's off-limits, that makes her twice as attractive to your sense of doomed tragedy."

"Look, it's not Li Ann, alright?" Vic declared, peevishly.

Mac shook his head again. "God, you really have got it bad, haven't you? I can't believe you didn't just go ahead and let me think that it was. You know, to keep me off the scent. I would have left it alone. That's what I like about you, Vic. You're so refreshingly uncomplicated."

"So I'm simple, is that what you're saying?"

Mac looked at him, worried. "Now you're starting to really frighten me. Why are you taking all of this so personally? Just... forget it, okay? I didn't mean anything by it."

"What? What did I say?" Vic demanded. They had reached his truck.

Mac was shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. Let's just go." He opened the door and stood for a moment, holding it open. "I think I preferred you when you weren't in love. At least then you had a level head. Now you can't even give me a run for my money. It gets boring always having the last word."

Vic hesitated with his hand on the door handle, cursing to himself for a moment. Then took a deep breath and opened the door.

They drove in relative silence to Vic's apartment, apart from trivialities. Vic worried throughout the entire drive that he'd gone too far and his bitchy attitude had finally alienated Mac completely. It wasn't until they'd got in the door and Vic had shut it behind them that Mac's mouth started up again.

"So, why don't you give me the run-down? We can find all her usual spots and then I'll tell you all the places I intend to put them. Of course, if you'd rather have the fun of finding them yourself, I wouldn't want to ruin it for you. Like she suggested, maybe you could do with a little distraction. Like, from being in love and all that?"

"Why is it a bad thing?" Vic asked, curious.

Mac stopped. "What?"

"You heard me. Why is being in love such a terrible thing to be?" He wandered into the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine." But Mac's answer was given absently, still thinking about Vic's question. "Just look at how it's affecting you. You can't concentrate as well as you used to, it might even jeopardize your performance in the team. Imagine it was Li Ann; working in such close proximity with her would start affecting the way you work with us. It could be dangerous. Why don't you tell me who it is, this mysterious beauty, so I can help you get her and then we'll have neutralized the possible threat to our team dynamic?"

Vic shot him a look that told him he couldn't fool him. "The Director likes us to have a sexual dynamic, she's already made that plain. Keeps us on edge, on our toes."

"Gives her something to watch," scoffed Mac, scornfully. "And she meant between us, not outside the team. That's why she doesn't actively encourage us to seek company that might last past the first date."

"She certainly seemed alright with your marriage plans, last time."

Mac chuckled. "Yeah. Although I think we all knew that it wasn't going to work out. Besides, she likes having us sexually frustrated. It gives her entertainment. She's a voyeur, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, that too," Vic sighed. "Look, let's focus on the real issue, here. The cameras. She had them all over the place. Up there, in here, over there behind the picture. And in the bedroom. One in the bathroom light. They're pretty obvious once you know what to look for."

Mac gave him a careful smile. "Are you sure you don't want to go ahead and guess where they are, later? Are you afraid you might find I'm better at hiding them than Dobrinsky?"

"No," Vic retorted, wondering what Mac was hinting at.

"Well, how about the possibility that some of them may not feed audio and visual just to her, but to some hidden setup of my own?"

Vic stared at him. He pointed a finger at him. "That... didn't occur to me. I didn't take you for a voyeur. You shouldn't have told me. I never would have suspected. Of course, this way you can find out who it is I like, by waiting night after night and hoping I'll spill her name in my sleep, right?"

"No, actually I'm hoping you'll blurt it out loud, lover-boy." Mac put his hands on his hips and sighed, looking around the room. "Dobrinsky has no imagination. And I'll have to tell you where I'm going to put them because I don't think even you could find them."

Vic raised his brows. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? If you don't put them in the right place, the proper angle won't feed back and they'll be virtually useless anyway."

"I'm going to do my damnedest. Look, you're just going to take them out afterwards. Why don't I at least demonstrate to you how good I can do it? I consider it an artistic challenge to do a job like this. Besides, usually I'm the one trying to debug, not the other way around. It's kind of novel to be given this variation of a test of my skills."

Vic sank into his couch. "Whatever. I don't really care anymore, to be honest."

Mac came and sat down in the chair near him. "Yeah, me neither. It makes me sick after a while, the sneaking around and trying to ignore the fact that she's watching every move we make. Cramps my style."

Vic snorted again. "Everything cramps your style; you're a primadonna."

When Mac didn't respond, he looked up to find Mac regarding him, puzzled. "What?" Vic asked.

Mac looked him over carefully before replying, "There's something different about the way you say things like that, Vic. I don't know what it is, but somehow they seem a little more..." he stopped.

Vic felt a cold feeling like dismay tiptoe over him. "More what?"

"I don't know." Mac looked away. "Hurtful, I guess. Like you really mean it. Maybe I just wasn't paying attention before but when you talk like that, you don't usually sound so serious about it."

Panicking, Vic swallowed. "Hey, I— I didn't mean it. Not like the way you're saying, anyway."

Mac raised one brow at him. "Gotcha. See, now I know something is up because otherwise you would have just laughed it off, told me I'm crazy or something. This person you're in love with... there's more to it than that, isn't there? You really have got it bad."

Vic felt the sudden rise of heat in his face and he thought, oh fuck. Not now. Please don't let him latch onto this. He felt caught, and knew it was too late. He bit his lip and looked down at his floor. At the carpet. And sighed. "Look, it's like I said before. Things have been... getting to me more. Getting me down. I've kind of lost my way here. I don't really see where all this is getting me. I can't even pursue a relationship of my own choice, let alone a normal life. I mean, we're screwed here; any chance of a normal life is zip. We don't even have a private life, let alone a social one. It just gets a bit much after a while." He was complaining, and he knew it. But it was better than talking about emotional crap. Mac could relate with what he was saying.

"I hear ya. How ironic is this: having to spend an evening placing bugs on each other." Mac sounded pissed off and sympathetic. Then his voice hardened. "Still, that doesn't excuse your attitude. We fight; we've fought before. A lot. But right now, you just seem... beaten. You can't let it get to you, you can't let her win."

"Is it really the Director? Or is it me?" Vic asked, musing almost absently as if to himself.

Mac regarded him. "Victor, why don't you tell me who it is? Maybe I can help. Just to have someone to talk to about it, if nothing else."

Damn. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Vic's face still felt hot. It was so tempting right now. It would be so phenomenally easy to just say it. Right to his face. That he, the moderate, prudish, good-guy ex-cop was in love with another man. The man sitting so close, in his own living room. This crush. This passing fancy. This insignificant, unimportant little thing that had begun as a simple admiration for the way Mac moved, when he fought, when he stalked down corridors, when he simply sat in chairs— he lounged in them and slouched with casual grace like a cat. It had grown and developed into this towering, overwhelming desire that encompassed everything else. Stealing even his sleep. It wasn't fair. He couldn't even talk to him about it. But maybe...

He cleared his throat. Without looking at Mac, Vic said, "I guess... I think— I think I'm afraid that if I tell you, you'll," he stopped. "I don't know. Use it against me? Make fun of me in front of others? Turn it into another joke, like everything else? Why should I trust you, Mac? Not," he said swiftly, "that I don't trust you, as my partner, as part of our team. I just mean, well," he ran out of words. But it rang in the back of his head, in his ears... want you, want you, want you... And knew he was treading dangerous waters here. He couldn't believe that it could mean anything to Mac if he were to reveal his feelings for him. He'd think him weak or stupid. And he probably was. He wanted too much. Even if Mac found the suggestion interesting, found Vic interesting— as unlikely as that was— Vic was bound to frighten him off as soon as he knew that Vic wanted him for real. That it wasn't just a crush. He closed his eyes. He couldn't bear it. For there it was; it was a lot more than a crush, it was his usual style: the Victor Mansfield brand of falling hard. It wasn't in him to fall for someone he didn't care about.

Mac nodded and supplied gently, "It's like you said, earlier. We aren't exactly real friends, are we? Would you believe there are things I wished we could talk about, but don't because after all you already have such a low opinion of me? I mean, Christ, Vic; no one could ever match up to the standards you expect from people. I don't have a hope in hell. You see me as a buffoon, a clown. So I'm hardly surprised that you don't trust me to be able to talk with you about something personal like that."

His voice rough, on the verge of explaining the real reason, Vic murmured, "I don't see you as a clown."

Mac chuckled. "No?"

"Well, maybe I do, but not in a bad way. I'm kind of... jealous of you. You're the fun one while I have to be Mr. Reliable, Mr. Serious."

Mac regarded him quizzically. "You don't have to be. Where'd you get that idea?"

Vic frowned, frustrated. Abruptly, he stood and went to the drinks cabinet. "I need a drink."

Mac was taken aback. "This early in the day? I don't know," he replied, doubtfully. "We've still got tonight and I think we should be sharp. Don't you?"

Vic snorted. "Whatever happened to that free and easy, devil-may-care attitude of yours towards life, Mac? I think I'm actually rubbing off on you." He took out a scotch blend, a good one. Single Highland malt, ten years old. And poured himself a good finger full. He wasn't drowning his sorrows, he told himself. He was fortifying himself against the presence of the temptation currently sitting on his living room couch, staring at him concernedly.

Finally, Mac sighed, resigned. "About half of what you just poured yourself."

Vic complied, saying as he poured a second shot glass for Mac, "Or is it the other way around; you're a bad influence on me?" He picked up both glasses and brought Mac's to him. Handing it to him, he sat down at the farthest end of the sofa from Mac. Regarding the warm liquid, he watched as it coloured the rest of the room amber through the glass.

Mac sipped, surprised by how good it was. "This is great stuff, Vic. Where'd you get it?"

"It was confiscated in a bust; I got it from an inside source," Vic murmured, enigmatically.

"Vic, I really do think we need to talk. About this matter of the heart. It's already affecting the way you relate with me. And I don't think I'm the only one who's noticed either. Why else would the Director suddenly show such concern for your 'well-being'? Maybe she's worried that the job is starting to get to you and she wants to keep a closer eye on you."

Vic rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Too complex. No, it's because she's a freak. A freaky dominatrix. It's that simple. She can't stand it, knowing that I'll resist being under her complete control. Besides, I can't tell you who it is 'cause I know you'll tell Li Ann."

Mac regarded him with shock. "And just how do you figure that? That I would betray your confidence... to her? What, you think we sneak around together like a couple of kids, whispering, sharing gossip about people?"

"No," Vic said, irritably. "I just— look, you're close to her. Closer than I ever was. I didn't want to believe it but it's pretty obvious to me, now that she and I are no longer an item. You have an entire history with her." At this point, Vic had a hard time identifying which one he was more jealous of. All he knew was that he felt left out. Great, Mansfield, he thought to himself. Now you're getting morbid on drink and unrequited passion for a guy who already thinks you're a complete loser. Next you'll be sobbing on his shoulder. Somehow, the very real threat of doing just that seemed to loom eminently closer, as the simple comfort of the act appealed to him more and more. He scowled and gulped down more of the fiery resolve the whisky offered.

Mac sniggered. "Li Ann treats us both like kids. She thinks we're immature and she spends far too much time remodelling herself after the Director. She's already started taking her cues from her. The only thing we really have in common anymore is a love of good Chinese cuisine."

Vic grimaced at the thought. "Please. Don't bring that up now."

Mac swirled the scotch in his glass and threw him a look from beneath his brows. "So, who's this dream girl of yours? Do I at least get to know her name?"

Vic sipped more. "Nope."

Wheedling now, Mac earnestly said, "I swear I won't tell anyone. I won't make fun of you. And I really can help you get her."

"Why is it so important that you know who it is?" Vic said dully, hoping his tone of voice conveyed the proper loss of interest in the subject.

"Because I've never seen you look so sad and down. I've seen you depressed before; I've even seen you unhappy, but I swear I've never seen you this miserable. You look like you don't think you have a hope in hell."

Angrily, Vic exclaimed, "Why should you care? What difference does it make? It's a lost cause. Why can't you just believe me? Take my word for it: she's not interested."

"Vic," Mac replied, gently, "you already said that she doesn't even know. How do you know you don't have a chance if you haven't told her?"

Vic looked into his glass. It was empty. He continued holding it simply for the saving grace of having something to hold in his hand. "I know her. She's not that kind of— " he bit off the word. Fuck, he thought. He'd been about to say 'guy'. He really was losing it here, big time. Mac was right; he shouldn't have started drinking this early on. It hadn't even hit his system yet. Why was he falling for this? He had no intention of telling Mac anything. If only he'd tried to hold out until the end, pleaded feeling sick or something... but knew that Mac wouldn't have bought that anyway, would only have delayed the inevitable interrogation until later. Yeah, he'd have kept up the pressure until he cracked.

Thoughtfully, Mac answered, "Whoever she is, she's lucky. She doesn't deserve you, Vic."

"Yeah? How do you figure?" Vic laughed, humourlessly, unable to stop the pain from colouring his voice now. He felt helpless. Even the heat from the whisky wasn't helping. It just made him feel flushed. In fact, he could feel his face was hot. He was glad actually; it helped his alibi. Never mind that Mac in a caring state was such a novelty and appealed so deeply to Vic's longing to have him show such care. Never mind that the younger man was also looking flushed and a little— Hell, the whisky wasn't that strong. Who was he kidding? He was trying hard to conceal his partial erection again; an embarrassing situation that occurred with greater frequency these days, particularly when he was in the room alone with Mac. Like right now.

"Don't you know? You're a decent person, Vic."

He couldn't stand it anymore. He could bear to hear Mac trying to make him feel better; could even bear that tone of voice that made him think that maybe Mac gave a damn. He couldn't bear having to conceal it any longer and hiding like he was ashamed. He wasn't ashamed at all. He just didn't like being alone, and he knew that Mac couldn't be anything but sympathetic towards him. He could hardly expect him to happily throw himself at him upon hearing the news. They had already spent far too much time letting each other know that the other was less than liked.

Huskily, his voice rough, Vic said, "I'll tell you. But you have to swear to me that you're not going to get on some kind of consolation kick over it. Trying to lecture me about it, or getting me help, or laid, or whatever. Or try to talk me out of it. Okay?"

Mac nodded. "Fair enough."

Vic shot him a look.

Mac shrugged. "I swear. I won't laugh, either. I promise, alright? Cross my heart, hope to die." He grinned.

Vic took a deep breath. He licked his lips and stared mournfully into the empty glass. Where was courage? Oh yeah. He didn't care anymore. Right? Okay. Might as well go for broke. Get it out there, out in the open; no more hiding, no more having to pretend. At least it would dissipate the tension, the fear of him finding out. The fear of ridicule, of rejection. At least he'd get it over with. And he knew he was being incredibly stupid; to take his cue from the scotch and confess like this was too dramatic. He'd regret it later. But then, he hadn't had that much to drink; that was more of an excuse. His eyes narrowed. He could always claim temporary insanity afterwards and blame it on the scotch. That was it! A graceful way out that Mac would probably tacitly agree to take himself, if things got too heavy.

Mac was waiting. He looked like he was on the edge of his seat and holding his breath expectantly, while trying to look nonchalant as if he had all the time in the world.

A small laugh caught in Vic's throat and he couldn't help snickering at this.

Mac frowned, chuckled with him even though he didn't quite get the humour. "What?"

Vic shook his head. "Nothing; I just— I've never seen you look like that before. You look like you're about to pop a vein."

Mac let out a tense exhalation. "For God's sake, Vic! I'm sitting in ultra-suspense here. Put me out of my misery! Who. Is. She?"

Vic thought about it. How to put it. Oh yeah... "She's a he."

As the import of this sank into Mac's comprehension, his only response was a puzzled lift of one eyebrow. "Okay. So, who?"

"What, doesn't that surprise you?"

"Why should it?"

Vic snorted. "That boring old has-been Mansfield has suppressed bisexual urges? Come on."

Mac finished his own glass and put it on the table, and folded his arms across his chest. "You're forgetting who you're talking to. I'm far more liberal than you are. I don't have a problem with it, if that's what you mean."

"Oh, well, excuse me for implying that you would. I still have to work with you, don't I? You think I want to have to hear you making comments about this in the open? Can you imagine what the Director would say? What others will say?" Vic sounded bitter rather than sarcastic.

"C'mon, I wouldn't do that. I'm not that insensitive." Mac tried to lighten the mood. "Oh, no. No. No! Don't tell me; it's Dobrinsky?" He held an expression of mock horror.

Vic let out a short laugh. "Yeah, right. Jungle fever, that's me. At this point, you could still say the Director and be well within the range of possibilities."

Mac laughed out loud at this. "Oh God, it's a good thing she can't hear this. That is so-oo her!!" Then he stopped abruptly and shot a warning glance at him. "Murphy or Camier?"

Vic winced. "I oughtta shoot you for that! Are you crazy?!"

Mac looked away. "No. I'm just playing for time, I guess. See, I hate guessing games too. Narrowing the odds, eliminating the obvious choices. It doesn't really leave me many more guesses. Is it me?"

Vic hesitated a little too long, paused for several seconds too long and they stretched out agonizingly slowly as he tried to find a handle on how to answer this casually. "Of course not. Look, you don't know him, okay? You don't. It isn't anyone you know."

Mac sat quietly, watching him. He blinked a few times. And took a breath himself before replying. "Vic, it's okay, you know. It's only natural, really. I mean, we do have a lot of tension between us. This friction; it's been there from the beginning. I've felt it myself."

Vic didn't look at him. He felt caught, and as if he were moving in slow motion. Every thought seemed too deliberate. And he knew it wasn't the drink. He didn't dare look over at him. Everything was exposed now, all his insecurities, all his longing. This was torture. Why the fuck hadn't he kept his goddamn mouth shut? He closed his eyes. It didn't help.

"If it's any help, I feel the same way about you." Mac sounded subdued.

Vic's eyes flew open. He threw him a look of disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? You don't think I'm capable of feelings? Or just feeling something for you?"

Vic stared at him, not really comprehending this. Any of it. How could Mac— "You have a crush... on me?"

"What did you think I would say?" But Mac's eyes were gentle; he looked sympathetic. Vic could tell out of the corner of his eye, in his periphery.

Still, he felt as though his heart was in his mouth. "I don't know. That— that you'd tell me to go to hell. That it wasn't what you wanted. That you didn't want— " ...me... But he couldn't say it. Why would Mac want him? Mac couldn't be serious. This was a mistake. He felt awkward and stupid for having revealed it. It was over so soon, too quickly and now he couldn't take it back. He should have protested, claimed that there was nothing further from the truth. That being near him was hardly enough to set his pulse leaping and his heart pounding. That it wasn't killing him to have to be so close to him day after day, after day. He jumped up from where he was sitting and sought the safety of retreating to the kitchen. At least there he could keep the kitchen table between them and remain by the sink.

As expected, Mac followed him in although he remained in the doorway. "You're right, I probably wouldn't have believed you if you'd told me before now. And I know you consider me immature and everything. I would have thought it was the other way around, that you wouldn't want me. It's funny, you know, because I always wondered about it. But I always thought you'd think I was just kidding you, or that I was a perverted psycho for even suggesting it."

But Vic was trembling now; he was having a hard time even swallowing in his dry throat because of the momentousness of it all. He couldn't take the words back. Now that Mac knew how Vic was tearing himself apart over him all Vic wanted to do was climb into bed and stay there, for good. Forever. With the covers over his head. He closed his eyes and leaned over the sink, gripping it with both hands for something to cling to. God, how could he have let his guard down? How could he have let something so personal and damaging slip by?

Too many disappointments, too many betrayals; he couldn't face yet another one. It was too close on the heels of the last one, and all the more painful in that he had to be reminded of it every day. This had to be some kind of joke that life was playing on him. To have to spend so much time in such close proximity to two people who wouldn't have him, didn't want him. Was it so much to ask for, just to want someone to want him back? He realized it was self-pity, the feeling that had dug its claws into him and didn't want to let go. He couldn't believe that Mac felt the same way. He couldn't.

Mac wore a worried frown now, though. He came up behind him and put his arms around him, just enough to let him know he was there, that he cared. "Vic," he said huskily, "you're not alone. You don't have to give yourself away just to have a friend."

Vic tightened under his touch, Mac instinctively loosened his hold and stepped back.

Vic turned around, a look of empty despair upon his face now. "I wasn't offering myself in return for your friendship. I didn't mean that I thought I'd have to have sex with you in order for you to like me."

Mac raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "Man, you are so... so obtuse sometimes! I wasn't trying to offend you. I only meant that you don't have to sell your body as well as your heart. They come together, all parts of you. I accept you as you are. I want you. You have no idea how much."

He stepped closer again, this time letting both his hands fall on Vic's shoulders, in a friendly gesture. "I just don't think that you should do this out of loneliness or desperation. I want you too, but I'm not willing to unless we agree we can still be friends." He paused, took a breath and bit his lip before adding, "I don't want to lose your friendship if you aren't going to want this afterwards, once it's happened. If you change your mind."

"That's just it. We aren't friends, Mac." Vic shrugged his hands away, more angrily. "This was never about sex, for me. You think I want to sleep with you just so you'll be my friend. Even more interesting though is that you want to be my friend so I'll sleep with you. Tell me, which is the more screwed up?"

Mac shook his head slightly, regarding him with what could almost be described as bewilderment. "Hey, you tell me. I don't think we can be friends unless we sleep together. Friends and lovers. Like I said, the complete package. We fight way too often for anything else to work, for there to be any other answer. And we'll never know unless we try it."

Vic's mind was whirling. He had assumed that in telling him, Mac's response would come in the usual form he'd come to expect: telling Vic that he was too needy. Such an open declaration of love was most likely scary. And it was probably a turn-off too. There was nothing like a needy, desperately lonely person with a propensity for clinging and a tendency towards emotional insecurity to turn away someone of Mac's preferences and predilections. If he'd had any brains left at all, he would have covered up his pain with the usual banter and pretended everything was fine. Why hadn't he? Oh yeah. He'd decided that he'd had enough pretending. Fuck. The scotch still sang in his blood. And now here was Mac saying that he wanted him? He couldn't believe that. It didn't compute. Besides, he was in love with Mac. Not just wanting to sleep with him. In love! Wasn't he?

But this was worse. He hadn't prepared for the thought of Mac actually accepting him! Desiring him equally... What was he supposed to say? Do? How to behave? Did he really want to continue with this? Did Mac?

And he stood there, mutely, helplessly, until Mac couldn't stand the sight of him looking so sad and lost anymore and came forward to gently pull him into his arms. Wordlessly, Mac held him. Long minutes passed and gradually Vic's tension dropped and he returned the embrace, allowing himself this unexpected reprieve to simply revel in the closeness and comfort of his touch. Mac's heartbeat was loud and he was so warm; Vic wanted to bury his face in the other man's chest and just lose himself for a while. It was easier, he knew, when his senses and inhibitions were dulled slightly with alcohol, regardless of how much of an excuse it actually was. One shot wasn't enough to make him tipsy. Somehow he also had the feeling he would regret it later.

He let himself be led by the hand into the bedroom, watching like a stunned rabbit as Mac drew the curtains. And then also allowed Mac to help him undress. Climbing beneath the covers like an automaton without thinking about it. Finding Mac getting inside the covers beside him to take him in his arms again, this time wearing only his shorts. He said, gruffly, "What the hell are we doing? It's the middle of the afternoon. Not even that yet."

Mac shrugged. "She gave us the day off. It's our time; we can spend it however we like. And I want to spend mine with you, if you'll let me." And he pulled Vic closer, tighter, back into his embrace. "I think you need it. We both need this, Victor. We've been alone for too long. Maybe we can be happy, if only for a while."

Vic hugged him back, clung to him almost as if for reassurance. Not quite believing it was happening. "This is too weird. I didn't think that you would... that you'd..."

"Vic, oh, Vic. How could you think that I wouldn't want you?" Mac's voice was strained and he sounded miserable. "You're beautiful, so perfect and good and beautiful. I never thought you'd let  me do this. I didn't dare. I've imagined this for weeks now. I didn't want to hear you tell me you weren't interested. I never dared to think that you would want to."

Surprised, Vic looked up into his face. "You actually want this? You're not just saying that, to make me feel better? I mean, you don't have to go through with this. This is enough for me. Just being here, like this."

"I know," Mac said, nodding sadly. "You need a friend. Someone to hold, and to hold you back. I need more than that. But hey, I'll take what I can get. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." He loved the way their bodies pressed up against each other and just prayed Vic would be open-minded enough to pursue this all the way.

Mac enjoyed the intimacy of simply holding him; Vic was still taut and faintly covered with a sheen of pure Vic-scent. Mac was feeling rather mindless, as if the smell and the feel of Vic's body against him was a drug. Certainly he was no longer capable of resisting him. He would do anything Vic wanted at this point.

This was moving way too fast. Vic was having trouble getting all of it. "Wait a minute. Just— hold on. I don't... you're saying that you didn't think I would want you? And that you think I'm in love with you just because I'm lonely?"

"No, you idiot. I'm saying that I'm in love with you. And that I had more reason to be afraid you might tell me to go to hell than you ever did. Why do you think I wanted to know who it was you were in love with, why I kept pushing you about it? I was really worried you had finally lost your heart to someone else." And Mac held him tighter, burying his face in Vic's neck. Muffled, he said, "I could just stay like this, right here. We don't have to do anything. If this too much for you, I mean."

"Dream on," Vic muttered, entirely entranced by the novel idea that Mac actually had feelings for him. Let alone wanted his body. Christ. He pulled the covers up around them and then moved, rolling to push Mac under him, ending up atop him with a crooked smile. "You've been driving me crazy. Let me get a little of my own back, now." And he gently pressed his lips to Mac's, enjoying the soft warmth of them and the surprised little breath that escaped as Mac responded to him. He felt relief run over him and also a trickle of electricity that sped up his heart rate again.

Mac lifted a brow. Tearing his mouth away to the left, he gasped, "You think you're going to be the top here, huh?"

Growling a little in his throat, Vic answered by moving his hands up to take Mac's face in both of them and kissing him passionately, worrying at his chin and face, leaving a trail of softly bitten skin after him. "Not at all. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me, right now. I've been dreaming about it for months."

Mac moaned against him and arched upwards. He was still trying to get air into his lungs after this sudden, heated declaration but it was made difficult as Vic claimed his mouth again, this time running his tongue along the edges of his teeth and darting playfully with Mac's tongue as Mac attempted to breathe in through his nose. Finally, he pulled his head back. Gasping, he said, "Fine, okay. So why are we still wearing shorts?"

"Damned if I can figure that out," muttered Vic, reaching down to try to pull the clothes in question down off of both of them. But he had no leverage and was still lying on top of Mac.

Struggling, Mac pushed him off to sit up. "Have you got anything we can use?" he said, breathing hard, hoping Vic wouldn't get cold feet. When Vic stared at him, Mac said, "Lube. Lube!"

Vic dove for the nightstand with the little-used bottle there. When Mac caught sight of the brand on it though, he coughed and started laughing. He couldn't stop. "'Probe'?" he said, between laughs, trying to catch his breath.

"You bet. That's what I intend to do to you, later. In intimate detail," Vic promised, in a smoky voice that left a coil of urgent desire suddenly winding around Mac's insides.

"Okay, lover-boy," Mac managed as he finally pulled off his shorts, revealing an anxiously stiff cock. "Where's the rubber? You know, the, ah," he gestured, and murmured his thanks as Vic slapped a condom into his hand and then moved to shrug off his own shorts.

"How do you want me?" Vic breathed, licking his lips as he watched Mac unroll it over his length. He hadn't seen that many cocks in his life; at least, not in situations like this one. He had always imagined he'd be daunted. Instead, he found himself curious and hungry.

Mac smiled at him, slowly, that evil mischievousness returning. "Ready, naked and hard. Just like you are now. That'll do. But on your back. I want to see your face when you come, screaming my name."

Vic lay back amongst the pillows, his breath still coming short. If he stopped to think about what they were doing, he thought he might freeze up. "You think you can make me scream, Ramsey?" It wasn't like he'd never messed around, but this meant too much to him and he was just praying that it ended up without awkward results, for their first attempt.

"Is that a dare, Mansfield?" Mac's eyes gleamed and he moved to crawl between his legs, placing one hand on either thigh and then slowly sliding along the sensitive skin there, up and down, pushing them even farther apart with each motion down.

He leaned down and let the bobbing, wet head of Vic's eager cock rub against his lips, his cheek; causing the breath to hitch in Vic's lungs and making him throw both his hands to either side of him to clutch at the sheet. Vic couldn't stop a moan from welling up.

"Let's see," Mac said, calculating, "I'd guess I have about four or five hours left to try to make you scream." He licked at the head and then washed the length of Vic's cock with his tongue, making Vic gasp and moan again.

"This is too easy," Mac chuckled.

"Hey, I'm not screaming yet." Vic looked down at him, his brows crinkling and biting his lips as he tensed with the effort of not losing it too quickly at the sight of Mac between his legs. And the feeling of those hands that were still working wicked magic on him. Mac was caressing his legs and upper thighs now, wrapped around them, lifting them slowly upwards so that Vic's feet were nearly resting on Mac's own thighs.

Mac couldn't help whispering as he surveyed the glory of a naked Vic spread rather wantonly out before him, "I'm going to make you feel so good. I'm going to make you come, baby. I'm going to fuck you good, and so hard. Oh, yeah." And he bent his head to trail his tongue lightly on his cock again. Teasingly, not enough to bring him off.

Vic couldn't help a cry at this. "Jesus, Mac, come on."

"You sure you don't want to be on top?" Mac frowned at him. "No? Then shut up and let me do this my way. I promise you'll like it."

Vic gave up and just lay his head back, his lips parted with the pleasure of letting Mac have his way with him.

Mac's hands were everywhere now, although his touches were still slow and caressing. Vic realized they were meant to calm him as much as arouse his body; he was still tense at the thought of what they were about to do. Then, out of nowhere, Mac's lips were gently teasing his cock again, as a wet finger slid slowly into him, up to the first knuckle. Then the second. Mac was murmuring hoarsely, "D'you like that? Shall I give you more? Let me know if you're okay with this."

Vic couldn't respond at first, the breath stuck in his throat. Finally he managed to reply, his voice husky with urgency, "Fuck me, Mac, oh God just fuck me. Please!"

"Easy, babe, easy. I don't want to hurt you; I want this to be good for you."

Vic groaned. "If you don't fuck me, I'm gonna die."

"Yeah, well, if I hurt you, then you'll kill me and I'll die."

"God... Mac, please!" This last was torn from Vic in desperation as Mac's finger was joined by another.

He withdrew and obediently climbed up to position himself against Vic's waiting hole and then slowly, oh so slowly, shoved forward little by little, until Vic was panting, his voice suddenly going up an octave in moans and whimpers.

The sounds alone were nearly enough to bring him off and he didn't want to disappoint him, not after waiting for so long. He tried to keep still, remaining where he was.

Vic could feel beads of sweat collecting and dripping down his skin, down his sides and from his armpits as he tried not to come at the sensation of being filled with Mac's cock. He hadn't felt like this in... well, actually he'd never felt like this before. It had never meant so much to him. He felt invaded, overwhelmed and entirely free. That Mac would do this to him, for him, it filled him with wonder and gratitude. He wanted to move but found he couldn't; he was legless and sprawled under the younger man as if he'd lost all motor control.

Then Mac began tentatively to push forward again, filling him up even more. The pressure gave and then Mac was sliding inexorably home, all the way until Vic cried out as Mac finally pressed in as far as he could go. Mac stopped, looking down at Vic and grinning at him with an exultation and delight that made an answering joy bloom somewhere in the region of his chest, as well as a further twist of arousal deep in his gut and spreading to his crotch, to his ass. And he involuntary clenched around the cock embedded in him, making Mac gasp and cry out, "Wait, not— yet. Shit, stop, stop!" Panting, Mac looked into his eyes in the half-light of the bedroom. And then brought his hands up suddenly to seize Vic's wrists and hold them down, firmly, while he plundered his lips, his mouth, that chin and then covered his entire face fervently with kisses and nipped at him.

Vic was squirming under this affectionate assault, open-mouthed, relishing the feeling of being held down by his passionate lover... yeah, they were lovers now, weren't they? Could hardly be mistaken for anything else, what with Mac's cock lodged in him so deep, so hard. Oh God.

And then Mac drew upwards again and stared meaningfully down at him, another grin spreading over his face, even more wickedly this time, knowing what he planned to do. And he began to move, slowly at first, sliding and thrusting upwards, each penetration jabbing deeper every time and gaining in strength, until Vic felt as though he were being cored out and hollowed by the sheer spiking pleasure of each thrust. And still Mac's gaze held his, intense and watching him, watching as the sensations gripped him and made him cry out over and over, with each plunge upwards, with every brush against the sweet spot inside him.

And Mac was whispering, almost inaudibly, "Fuck you, fucking you, gonna fuck you, Vic, oh yeah... you like this? You like me fucking you? I'm gonna make you come. Oh God, wanna make you come for me. Come on, oh beautiful, Vic, Vic, fuck yeah, Vic, oh Vic..."

Vic couldn't really answer, he was too busy trying not to come too soon. Each plunge made him jerk and writhe beneath him and the added feeling of Mac gripping his wrists and holding them down against the bed, being restrained by Mac's weight as he stared into his eyes, not letting him go... it was too much to bear. Vic's legs were pulled tight against Mac's upper thighs and his hips.

And just as suddenly, almost too soon afterwards, Vic's cock was pulsing, leaping between their stomachs and shooting pearly hot fluid onto their skin; the sensation of his orgasm sending sparks and chills over his body, inside his blood like little tingling electric shocks, all the way down to his toes and making his skin flush even hotter. Their bodies were slick where they rubbed together and Vic's wave of pleasure set off Mac's, as he now rapidly jerked against him with short, hard little thrusts, finally flooding his insides as he cried out with a sob against him, leaning down to let his face fall against Vic's collarbone and press up into his neck. He released his arms and let himself remain there, like that. Vic's arms came up to wrap around him, holding him closely.

Then, with his muscles slightly cramped and shaking from the delightful ordeal, Mac slowly pulled out of him, one hand groping blindly to remove the condom and throw it over the edge of the bed onto the floor. He lay against Vic's heaving chest and just stayed with him, letting Vic's hand freely comb through his hair gently.

They stayed like that, not moving or speaking. Time passed and they felt nothing but utter contentment. No need to jump up or explain, or try to cover up anything. Just the lazy thrill of enjoying the aftermath.

It had to happen eventually, Vic thought. Mac cleared his throat and asked, almost defensively, "That was good, wasn't it?" Mac was obviously worried that it might not have been as good for Vic as it was for him.

Vic chuckled and stroked Mac's arm where his hand lay proprietarily on it. "I don't think 'good' is the word I'd use. Explosive? Sinfully wonderful? Beyond description?"

Mac let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I was worried there. Performance anxiety, you know."

Vic snickered at him and leaned round to kiss his cheek. "No worries, Ramsey. You're a real stud."

Mac fell quiet again. His voice was more serious when he spoke next. "You up for round two?"

Vic raised a brow. "Already? Great stamina, kid."

"Hey!" Mac protested, "who you calling kid, old man? Can't you keep up with me?"

"I'm just wondering what the rush is." Vic was half-serious. He liked the post-coital glow. He was more than a little nervous as to how Mac and he would relate now that this had happened.

Mac turned this time, looking into Vic's face earnestly. "No rush. It's just that you haven't screamed my name yet and I sort of have this deal on with myself that you won't leave here until you do. I promised that I'd make you and I'm quite willing to keep you from leaving. Even if I have to tie you down here and take a break while Li Ann helps me install the Director's spy cameras tonight."

Vic groaned and thumped his head backwards against the pillow. "That's right, you did mention something about that. I recall now. Barely. Does it count if I'm not actually coming? I could scream your name out loud so you can hear it, right now."

Mac shook his head quickly. "It has to be during the actual act or it's not authentic."

"Well, what are you waiting for, then? On your back. It's my turn now, I believe." Vic grinned at him.

Mac went weak at the sight of it. "Your smile always was a little too effective in getting your way." And grumbling, he lay back and stretched.

"Okay. It's your choice, Mac." Vic looked shy, as if he wasn't sure how Mac might respond to what he was about to say. "Do you want me to fuck you, or make love to you?"

Mac lifted his brow at him and grinned widely at this. "Which one is more likely to have you screaming my name?"

Vic seemed stumped. "Process of elimination then, I guess. Suits me."

"You know, you could start off making love to me and then switch to hot, hard fucking half-way through. If it isn't working; right?" Mac pointed out.

"You have a point." Vic took a breath, as though he'd come to a decision. "Spread your legs."

"Hold— hold on. Which is it gonna be?"

Vic smiled at him. "Trust me." And with that sultry promise, he bent over Mac and bit his shoulder, then moved to his right nipple, eliciting a shuddering little gasp from him. Flicking gently with his tongue-tip, he then wandered over to the left nipple, until it was as erect as it's twin. He started lightly running his fingers down Mac's sides and laughed as Mac jumped and twisted.

"Hey, that tickles." Mac sounded out of sorts about it. "Don't tell me you're into feathers, ice cubes and kinky games; not that I won't do it, I'd just like some warning."

"You really shouldn't have told me that, Mac," Vic said, teasingly. "Now I know your weakness. Don't worry, I won't tickle you to death or anything. Besides, I'm gonna have you screaming my name, first."

"Yeah?" panted Mac, trying to control his reaction to the lightly grasping hand that moved to his lifting cock and began gently pulling on it.

Vic paused, his hand on Mac, holding him there, the weight of what they were doing hanging over his head with the finality of it. They couldn't go back now. Not that he wanted to. He said, desire lacing his words with a slightly out of control quality, "Mac, I want you. I've wanted you for so long. I want you here, with me. Not just for now but tonight, too. Every night. Will you? Stay with me?" His heart was in his mouth and his dreams were on the verge of being either made or broken.

Mac stared at him, breathing heavily, feeling trapped. "This is a hell of a time to ask me that," he said, finally.

But Vic was moving now, rolling a condom onto his own stiff prick and grabbing up the lube to spread an over-generous amount on his fingers, he began giving Mac a hand-job that had him bucking against the hot, wet and gripping fist that held him, squeezing him gently, expertly. And he pressed a finger into Mac, making him lift his body at the double pleasuring of both his cock and his ass. "Stay with me, Mac. I'll do this for you any time you want. Anywhere. I'll make you feel so good. So wanted. I need you. I want you." He pressed another finger in. "Anytime. Whatever you want, I'll do it." Vic felt stronger, as if he were in charge, he held the reins. It gave him the confidence he needed. And sliding Mac's engorged, red cock in and out of his one hand and slowly fucking him with his fingers, he said in voice gone husky with promise and desire, "I'll do anything you want, Mac. I'll let you take me whenever you want to. I'll take you wherever, however your imagination decides you want to be taken. Suck you, fuck you, love you. Oh God," and he couldn't help a moan at the way Mac was writhing helplessly under his ministrations.

"Oh Vic, your mouth, your pretty mouth. Your pretty lips," whispered Mac, quite beyond rational thought. "Been dreaming about your mouth. Want you too, so badly. Do me. I'll stay. Just stop talking about it and do me!"

Vic obediently knelt into him, holding back his knees, lifting them up slightly, pressing the head of his eager penis into Mac's tight ass, riding the crack and suddenly finding his tight hole. With a rushing intake of breath at the sensation of moving into him, Vic nearly lost it again. "You're so fucking tight, so hot, Mac."

His head tilted back, his chin up, his lips parted as he took Vic's cock deeper and deeper inside of him, Mac said, "Tell me, Vic; tell me what it feels like for you."

Vic tremblingly began to move his hips back and forth, letting each movement increase the pressure until he was drawing out of Mac and then sliding back in with slow, deliberate thrusts. "Oh God, tight, smooth, hot. Oh God you feel so good. Want to just stay here with you, fuck you, fuck you Mac, fuck you! Oh God... Fuck! Mac! Ohhh— "

The sudden sensation of Mac bearing down on him, his ass muscles tightening around his cock at this exact moment, timing it just so... Vic couldn't stop himself and he launched into a rapid-fire fucking of the tight, squirming ass under him, gripping Mac's legs, crying out, repeating his litany. Mac soon followed, his own hand shot down to pull at his pleading cock and the waves of their respective orgasms were staggered right on the edge of syncopation.

His brain having dripped out of his head and shot into Mac along with his semen, Vic sank down and tried to catch his breath. "What the fuck... I am totally fucked. Totally."

Mac was grinning up at him. "You said my name. When you came."

Realization slowly crept into his head. Vic met his eye. "So now what?"

Mac chuckled at him. "You worry so much, Vic. Too much. It'll give you an ulcer before your time. Come lay down. We can pass the time until we need to go shower. Hell, we both need one. We can save the third lap for then."

Vic settled down beside him and pulled him into his arms, hot and sweaty and feeling as though he'd just had the most satisfying event of his sexual career. "I do love you. I really do. I meant what I said, about staying here with me. Will you? I know it's hard to take someone seriously when you're fucking them."

Mac kissed him soundly. "Babe, if you think I'm going anywhere, you don't know me at all. Consider me a permanent fixture."

Vic smiled. "I guess you're right. I do worry too much. Damn, I should've started something with you right from the beginning."

"Oh, I don't know. It wasn't until I got to know you better that I really got it bad for you."

Vic considered this. "Yeah, I guess you're right. About a lot of things. Like the friends and lovers bit. We need to be both. We can't be one and not the other."

"I'm always right," Mac said with a smug degree of satisfaction.

"Yeah, well, you screamed my name, too." Vic let him dwell on that.

"So?" Mac finally replied, jauntily. "We never said anything about not leaving until I did. The deal was to make you do it. And I did."

Vic kissed him tenderly. "Thief."

Mac stiffened. "Why?"

"Why do you think, fool? You stole my mind, my attention, my heart. Even my sleep. It's okay though. I fully intend to have you make it up to me." And he kissed Mac again, this time not letting him make the retort Mac wanted to give. Kept the kiss up, in fact, until Mac gave way and relaxed beneath him. Vic lifted his head. "You're going to stay. For good."

"Yeah." Mac agreed in principle. Though neither of them could tell what the future held.

"Just wanted to be clear on that point," Vic murmured, resting his head on Mac's shoulder, nestled against him.

"Try to get rid of me," muttered Mac, already scheming about what he would get Vic to do in the shower, later.

And the fun he would have with this afterwards, with innuendo and in-jokes that Li Ann couldn't possibly understand. No doubt the Director would be onto them if she wasn't already. But at this point it was academic. He wondered if the Director in some bizarre way wasn't already involved, if she hadn't somehow arranged this turn of events.

Vic's thoughts had run virtually parallel to his, for he cleared his throat and said, "Do you think she knows?"

"Yeah. Probably. Certainly. C'mon; she's the one who arranged this, isn't she?"

Vic was laughing, quietly.

"You think it's funny?" Mac was puzzled.

"Think about it. She likes sexual tension in her team, but not this much tension! It was too hot even for her to handle."

Mac snapped his fingers. "I'll bet that's it! She couldn't take it. So she decided to do something about it."

Vic fell quiet. "I hope this isn't on tape anywhere," he said, a trace of worry showing through.

Mac turned his head and looked at him, then leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Don't forget who you're talking to, here. I'm still one of the best. If there is a tape of this, I'll get it. Don't worry so much." And he chuckled at Vic's visible chagrin at the thought of Mac infiltrating the Agency's surveillance stash.

No doubt there would be more tapes to find in the future, anyway. Especially since Vic had every intention of keeping Mac in his life if it was the last thing he did.

"Just don't get caught," Vic warned him.

"Hey," Mac replied, his voice sleepy, "You caught me. Nobody else gets me from now on."

And that was about as sincere a promise and pledge Vic could actually hope to hear from Mac. He smiled against his lover's skin and closed his eyes. "You know, if we keep it in the dark, she won't be able to watch. Unless she goes to infra-red and that's not always as easy to install, either. Not as nice or as clear a picture. All we have to do is keep the lights off and stay in the dark."

"She'll still hear us, though."

"I guess we can grant her a little relief, don't you?"

"A bone for the bitch," Mac snickered.

And then exclaimed as he found Vic doing a very good impression of a hound burying his head into him and worrying at his flesh with his teeth, with accompanying growls. It very nearly escalated into a pillow fight.

And far off, in the Director's office, a recording device took down every second. The Director herself was not present, but she knew it had to happen eventually. Both of them had been so ripe for it. She'd had a feeling they might break today if she gave them the opportunity. She was looking forward to checking the tape and also observing this evening's show. It certainly beat television.

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