Wink Is As Good As A Nod

by Amedia

PAIRING: Johnny/Chet

RATED: R - SLASH

DISCLAIMER: This story is written for pure pleasure and is not intended to infringe on any pre-existing copyrights that may be violated.

ARCHIVE: Feel free to share with your friends, but not for profit.

FEEDBACK: Your opinions and reviews are highly appreciated.

Wink Is As Good As A Nod

by Amedia

"Hey, you wouldn't believe the conversation I had with my daughter last night," Roy said to Johnny as they were getting dressed.

"Yeah? What'd she say?"

"Well, she was upset because this little boy at school is always picking on her. So I told her, 'You know what that usually means?' and she said no, so I explained that it probably meant that he really liked her a lot. And you know what she said?"

"What?"

"She said, 'You mean like Johnny and Chet? They pick on each other so much they must be in love.'" Roy rolled his eyes.

Johnny laughed. "That's really cute."

"I thought so," said Roy, smiling. Wonder if he'll take the hint,he thought.

Fifteen hours later, they returned from a protracted stay at a structure fire. Roy climbed out of the squad and stood beside it, yawning. He reached his arms out to stretch and nearly lost his balance.

Johnny came around from his side of the squad and caught Roy before he fell over. "C'mon, man, you got to get to bed."

Roy allowed Johnny to guide him away from the squad. "Gotta check the drug box. We used a ton of stuff," he protested weakly.

"I can do that. I'm not half as tired as you are," said John firmly.

He had been checking the huge old building for stragglers while Roy was treating several patients by himself. "I was just walking up and down halls while you were wrestling IV's into people. Plus you ate some smoke when the wind shifted." Johnny had come out of the building to find Chet and Marco moving the victims to a less smoky area while Cap was holding an oxygen mask over Roy's face. Roy insisted he was okay after a few minutes, and Brackett had later agreed, but it was clear that Roy was now exhausted. "So come on, straight to bed."

"Okay," said Roy obediently. Johnny led him to his bunk and began helping him out of his smoky, sweatstained uniform.

"Okay? You're agreeing with me? Maybe I should've left you at Rampart with that last batch of patients."

"Okay," said Roy again and lay down. Johnny shook his head and pulled the covers over his groggy partner, patting his shoulder. Roy looked as if he were already asleep.

"'M all right, Johnny," Roy murmured. "'Night."

"Good night," Johnny replied.

He went out into the kitchen. Cap, Mike, and Marco were sitting around having lemonade; Chet was on the phone. "How's Roy?" asked the captain.

"Out like a light," said Johnny. "Man, I'm thirsty." Mike passed him a glass and the pitcher.

"That was a tough one," said Marco, draining his glass. "I know it's only nine o'clock, but I'm turning in."

"Good idea," said Mike.

"I'll be up for a while yet," said Johnny. "Need to inventory the drug box."

"Just turn out the lights when you're done," said Cap.

Chet set the phone receiver down and came over to the table. "Hey, Cap, an old friend of mine is in town. Last-minute thing. He's leaving again tomorrow. OK if he stops by tonight to say hi?"

"As long as you guys keep it real quiet," said Stanley firmly.

"No problem. Thanks, Cap," said Chet and returned to the phone.

"Damn," Johnny muttered to himself, "we're running low on lidocaine again." He added a large arrow to the inventory sheet to draw attention to the needed medicine and continued checking the drug box, trying not to yawn. Chet and his friend were in the kitchen; they'd been there about an hour. Everyone else was asleep.

He began making a note on the next line, and the pen ran out of ink. He shook it a couple of times, to no avail. "Damn!" he repeated, this time aloud. There were pens in Cap's office--he didn't think Cap would mind if he helped himself.

He repacked the box in case there was a call and headed for the office. The conversation from the kitchen had been at a steady low buzz since he'd been checking the drug box; he couldn't make out the words, but the tone was unexceptional. Now, the voices had taken on an edgy tone, like people who want to raise their voices but are aware that others are sleeping. Chet sounded defensive; his guest sounded haranguing. Johnny moved closer, listening.

"You're just fooling yourself, you know," said the unfamiliar voice. "One of these guys might accept a hand job or a blow job every now and then, but you're not gonna find--"

"That's not where I'm at any more, Joe," came Chet's voice. "Just drop it, OK?"

"You can pretend all you want," Joe's voice was saying with a sneer. "Big macho fireman. But you're still just a fat little faggot."

Knowing that eavesdropping was wrong, knowing that he shouldn't interfere, knowing that he was only going to embarrass Chet bigtime, Johnny burst through the kitchen door. "Hey!" he said, "I don't know who you are, but we got rules around here. I'm the only one who gets to pick on Chet."

Joe, a well-dressed man in his early thirties, glared at the intruder. Chet was staring at him, horrified. "Johnny...." He looked even more horrified when Johnny came up and put an arm around him.

"Now you listen to me," Johnny continued, shaking a finger at Chet's former friend. "He may be a fat little faggot, but he's my fat little faggot, so you just leave him alone!"

Joe looked startled, but made a quick recovery. "Yeah, right," he sneered. "Sure. So he's your pet, is he?"

In for a penny, in for a pound, thought Johnny. "No," he said. "I'm his."

"Johnny!" said Chet.

Johnny was good and wound up now. Tightening his grip on Chet's shoulder, he added, "And man, this guy, let me tell you, he wears me out!" He looked Joe straight in the eye and summoned up a sound somewhere between a purr and a growl. "Rowrr."

Joe gulped. "Well, Chet," he said, "I guess I was wrong about a few things."

"I guess so," said Chet briskly. Sharp recovery, thought Johnny, proud of his friend. Quick on the uptake.

Joe stared at them both for a long moment. Finally he said, "Well, Chet, it was nice seeing you again. We'll have to do this again sometime." From the sound of his voice, it was clear that he was not really interested in returning. "I can let myself out. Good night, Chet."

"Good night, Joe."

As soon as Joe had left, Chet yanked himself away from Johnny's arm. "I'll thank you to keep out of my personal life, Gage!" he hissed.

"Look, I was just trying to--"

"I don't care what you were trying to do! What you did was come barging in here and embarrass me in front of one of my oldest friends."

"One of your friends?" Johnny was incredulous. "He was being downright nasty to you, Chet."

"Unlike you?"

"Yeah, unlike me. Look, I know we have our differences, but it's all in fun. That guy was mean!" Johnny slowed down. "And I ... didn't want to see you get hurt."

Chet turned around and looked at him. "You mean that, don't you?"

Johnny shrugged. "Well, yeah."

Chet shook his head. "After what you heard him say?" Johnny shrugged again. Chet pursued, too angry to let the subject drop. "It's true, you know."

"No, it's not," Johnny said with a grin. "You're not fat anymore, are you? And you're not little, either." His voice sounded light; his expression was guarded, giving nothing away.

"No. I was, in high school. But I'm still ..." Chet looked away, then began talking rapidly. "I decided that wasn't what I wanted to be. I began working out and got into the most macho career I could think of. And what's really funny is, I like it. I like it a whole lot. But I still have the same feelings I always did. And now I'm in a situation where I couldn't act on them if I wanted to. Maybe I could have hooked up with Joe again, but you chased him away--"

Johnny interrupted. "Hooked up with him? A guy who uses humiliation as a pickup line?"

Stung by Johnny's words, Chet lashed out. "You're giving me advice on my love life? You get dumped by every girl you date!"

"Maybe they realize that I'm waiting on someone else, someone I'd really like to go with if he'd quit pickin' on me and give me a chance--"

Chet ignored him and kept talking. "You have no idea how hard it is to work with someone as attractive as you are and have to keep you at arms' length by picking on you all the time--"

"Wait a minute. What did you say?"

"What did you say?"

"You first."

"No, you first. I'm not the one who came barging in here claiming to be my 'pet.'"

"You got me there," Johnny admitted with a grin. "What I said was ... oh, the hell with it." He put both hands on Chet's shoulders and pulled him closer.

"Johnny? I'm not sure about--mmf." Chet's comment was suddenly cut off mid-sentence.

After a minute that seemed a lifetime, Johnny released Chet, stepped back and grinned at him. "Rowr."

Chet just stared at him.

"Chet?" Johnny passed his hand in front of Chet's eyes. No reaction. "Chet!"

He began to pace. "Oh my God, what am I gonna do? Rampart, we have a male victim here, apparently catatonic. Was there any trauma, 51? No, I just kissed him, Rampart. You did what, Johnny? Hey, Dix, come and hear this one!"

Chet couldn't hold it any more. He started with a chuckle, but quickly progressed into a belly laugh--he bent over double trying to stifle it and not wake the others. "You should have seen your face!"

"Chet--" Johnny was torn between anger and laughter. The absurdity of the situation got to him and he couldn't stay mad. "Chester B., what I am going to do with you?"

"Kiss me again," said Chet promptly.

They were still kissing when the alarm tones sounded. "Engine 51, dumpster fire." Chet released Johnny and ran to get his turnouts as the dispatcher read off the address.

"Chet--" Johnny called. "Catch you off-shift, OK?"

Chet waved as he climbed up onto the engine. Johnny resumed his interrupted errand. Halfway to Cap's office he stopped and stood for a moment, just grinning. Returning to the drug box, he once again found himself staring into space. A mixture of pleasure, anticipation, excitement, and sheer terror was bubbling in his head, with various feelings gaining the upper hand as the mixture roiled. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

The first time found them on Johnny's living room floor, having rolled off the restrictive confines of the couch. Negotiating the sweaty logistics of sex with a man was an exercise in fascination for Johnny, much to Chet's exasperation.

Johnny was more or less on top and still trying to find the optimal position. "I got it, I got it! Put your left foot over here and move your right hip up just an inch--"

"John," interrupted Chet, "are we having sex or playing Twister? I swear, you are such a pain in the ass."

Johnny was immediately repentant. "Am I hurting you? I'm sorry." He moved a fraction of an inch and rocked his hips forward.

"WOW!" hollered Chet. When he got his breath back, he said, "What the hell was that? Can you do it again?"

Johnny leaned forward over Chet's back and whispered in his ear, punctuating each statement with another thrust. "Don't forget, I'm a paramedic. I've studied anatomy, Chester B."

"Johnny," Chet panted, "I'd wipe ... that smug look ... off your face, but ... for right now ... I've got better things to do. Like ... having the best orgasm ... of my life ...."

"Why, Johnny," said Roy at the beginning of the next shift, "I do believe you're practically purring."

"Good break, eh?" asked Marco.

"Don't tell me Johnny finally found a girl who said yes," teased Mike.

Johnny closed his locker door and leaned back against it with a smile. "Better than that. I found someone who said please."

"Whoa-ho!"

"Attaboy!"

"How about you, Chet?" Marco asked, turning to an equally pleased-looking Chet.

Chet grinned back. "I found someone who said thank-you."

The guys whooped again. Only Roy saw Johnny wink at Chet, and Chet give Johnny a thumbs-up in return.

And Roy grinned happily to himself.

THE END

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