Title: Connections: The Crush

Author/pseudonym: Caroline Crane

Fandom: JAG

Paring: Rabb/Webb

Rating: PG13 for language

Status: new

Archive: yes to list archives

Series/Sequel: part 2 of ? (Follows "Connections: The Virgin")

Disclaimers: All hail Bellasario for creating such a slashy show for me to twist into something unrecognizable. I do it out of insanity, not for money.

Notes: More of the lighter side of Clayton Webb, as I like to think of this little foray into madness. I'm having a nervous breakdown so you'll have to cut me a little slack. Erik's the result of that, I'm fairly sure.

Summary: Erik talks to his new internet friend again and Clay quickly catches a clue.

Warnings: Nope.

Connections: The Crush
by Caroline Crane

Another stress-laden day, and Clay was sure the Agency was slowly taking years off his life. He could only hope that they were the lousy years at the end and that he wouldn’t drop dead of a heart attack the day after he finally retired. Which he never thought he’d actually look forward to, but lately…Lately something just wasn’t right. Something was missing, and if there was anything Clay couldn’t stand it was feeling like there was a void in his life. Usually when he started to feel this way he’d just bury himself in work, but lately even work was adding to his problems.

A rousing rendition of "I Will Survive" hit him when he opened his front door, and instantly Clay remembered the impetus for all his unrest. It was Erik’s fault, spending a week with his friend in such close quarters was definitely a bad idea. He’d known it when he’d agreed to let his friend stay with him, and it became more glaringly obvious every day. Just three more days, he told himself as he let himself into his condo and closed the door behind him. Three more days and his life would be his own again, and the nagging feeling that he was missing out on something would go away.

It wasn’t as though his life was so empty, really, he had his friends and he had a fulfilling career. He held a position of power within the Agency and that gave him the freedom to more or less make whatever decisions he wanted in his life, he could date who he wanted and as long as he was discreet there was no problem. So there was nothing missing from his life, it was just Erik hanging around making him feel like he was a traitor to gay men the world over because he didn’t wave a rainbow flag from the rooftops. Not that he didn’t love Erik, his oldest friend had given him a safe place to crash more times than he could count when Clay was forced to keep a low profile for whatever case he was working on.

He sighed and slid his jacket off, doing his best to ignore the blaring disco music coming from the back of his condo. Anyway, it wasn’t all bad having Erik hanging around. He still hadn’t found out the outcome of his friend’s conversation with the poor closet case he’d been working on the night before, and he had a sneaking suspicion the fact that Erik hadn’t woken him up to gloat meant that Clay had won their bet. He grinned in spite of the fact that he was ready to drop where he stood from exhaustion, pouring himself a glass of wine and heading toward his office.

"Don’t you ever work?" he asked when he reached the back of the condo, doing his best to sound annoyed as he took in the sight of the man with his feet once again propped on Clay’s desk, drink firmly in hand as he worked on Clay’s laptop. If chatting with strangers in gay chat rooms could be classified as ‘work’, which Clay had a sneaking suspicion Erik could actually justify.

Erik looked up and pouted at him, smoothing his silk button-down shirt. "This is the thanks I get for making myself pretty for you." He laughed as Clay rolled his eyes and sat down in his leather chair. "Clay, honey, one thing I learned early on in life is that there’s no reason to do something yourself when you can pay someone else to do it for you. If you ever took my professional advice you’d be a much happier man."

"Delegating isn’t that simple in my line of work," Clay reminded him.

"Well thank God I chose my passion for the arts over life as a secret agent," Erik shot back. "The gallery practically runs itself these days. Besides, the current show’s not even good. Some school chum of Sheila’s. She begged and begged until I finally relented and gave her little friend a shot. It’s too depressing, I can’t go back there until that horrible excuse for art is out of my gallery."

Clay laughed into his wine glass, picturing Erik’s mousy assistant cajoling him into giving her friend a show. He was probably serious about the art being less than interesting, but Clay knew Erik well enough to know it wouldn’t take much to talk him into giving the artist a break. He was the biggest pushover Clay knew, at least when he cared about you. And no matter what he said about Sheila, Clay knew Erik loved her. Maybe not as much as he loved the young, beautiful artists constantly streaming in and out of his gallery, but no one had ever accused Erik of being tactful. "So you’re hiding out in my condo corrupting confused GIs instead?"

At the mention of last night’s distraction Erik’s whole face lit up in an almost evil grin. "I haven’t managed to corrupt anyone yet, but give me time. Besides, you’ll never guess who e-mailed me to thank me for being so kind and understanding."

"Dear God, Erik, you gave him my e-mail address?" Clay sputtered, just barely saving another shirt from the same fate as the one he’d ruined the night before.

Erik rolled his eyes and turned back to the computer, ignoring the panic in Clay’s expression. "Of course not, Clayton. Don’t be so dramatic. I gave him my e-mail address. Anyway it’s not like he couldn’t find it on his own, anyone with half a brain can look up the profile of whoever they’re chatting with. And trust me, he’s definitely working with at least half a brain. Although that business about dating this female friend of his makes me wonder."

Clay was too busy not having a heart attack at the thought of some closet case e-mailing him at home to listen too carefully to Erik’s explanation, but he managed to catch something about chat profiles and e-mail addresses. The idea of that kind of sensitive information being so publicly available disgusted him – did people never think before they just started babbling to complete strangers about their private lives? Evidently not, if the current popularity of talk shows was any indication. Sometimes he really wondered about society.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Erik squealed, jolting Clay out of his thoughts and nearly out of his chair.

"Good Lord, what is it?" Clay demanded, reaching over automatically to turn down the music he’d nearly forgotten about.

"Guess who’s got mail," Erik answered, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he began to scroll through his e-mail. "He’s going to be online tonight and he wants to meet me in chat. I knew it, he wants me."

"I thought he was planning a relationship with some unfortunate woman," Clay muttered, suddenly sulky at the idea of Erik spending another entire evening chatting with some stranger instead of spending time with him. It wasn’t even worth having Erik stay with him if he was just going to ignore him the whole time. "You still owe me those tickets, you know."

"Yeah yeah." Erik waved his hand dismissively. "It’s worth it just for a shot at this guy. He’s so deliciously…innocent."

Clay caught himself rolling his eyes again and sighed, slumping further into his chair. He knew he should get up and go find something else to occupy his time, he didn’t need Erik to entertain him after all. If he went into the other room and tried to lose himself in an opera or even played his piano he knew he’d just be wondering what Erik was up to, though, so he stayed where he was and resigned himself to an evening of listening to a play-by-play of Erik’s online adventures. "Do you even know his name yet?"

"No," Erik answered, sighing dramatically. "He’s still a little skiddish about that, must be the military thing. There’s always tonight to lull him into a false sense of security, though." He glanced over at Clay and wagged his eyebrows, forcing a begrudging laugh from his friend.

"You are truly evil, Erik. Doesn’t his e-mail address tell you his name?"

Another exaggerated sigh let Clay know that the question was quite possibly the dumbest thing Erik had heard all week. "Give me a little credit, Clayton. You’re not the only girl around here that knows how to look for clues. He’s using an anonymous e-mail address, one of those web-based deals. They’re always a dead end."

Clay refrained from pointing out that there was always around any dead end if you knew the right questions to ask. He wasn’t really all that interested in digging around for this guy’s real identity, after all it didn’t make a difference to him who the guy was. The sexual preferences of military personnel rarely, if ever, were of any use to him professionally, and he certainly wasn’t about to get involved with a government employee.

"Hello," Erik said suddenly, his eyebrows raised as he typed something onto the screen. "It looks like our new friend was anxious to see us."

"He’s completely oblivious to the fact that there is an ‘us’," Clay reminded him, some of his bad mood returning as he reminded them both how unnecessary his presence was to the conversation.

"Well I’d be happy to tell him all about you," Erik replied, his evil grin returning as he arched an eyebrow in Clay’s direction. "Although I’m not sure I want to share. You’d steal him right out from under me, his type always goes for you strong, silent power suit types."

Clay laughed and shook his head, silently agreeing with Erik. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but his friend was right in one respect – someone with a reason to be discreet would most definitely choose Clay over a man like Erik. Discretion and Erik did not get along well. "Don’t you dare," he finally protested. "The last thing I need is you trying to fix me up with some serial killer or something. For all you know he’s a cop looking to bust you for online soliciting."

"You know, you really do have a gift for taking the fun out of everything," Erik quipped as he continued to type. "Here, I’ll just ask him what exactly he does for a living."

"There’s a perfect solution," Clay shot back, frowning at the idea that Erik thought he was some kind of killjoy. He was a fun guy, it wasn’t his fault he had to be careful about everything he did. "Because everyone always tells the truth about themselves online."

"Your sarcasm is not helping our new friend with his personal crisis," Erik reminded him. "Aww, the poor dear. Seems he had a run-in with his female friend today. She cornered him in his office and started hinting around about taking things further. You’re better at this whole closeted business than me, Clay. What should I tell him?"

"Tell him to stop being such an idiot and just tell the girl he’s not interested," Clay grumbled. "Or tell him to marry her if she’s so oblivious. How do I know? I’m not in the habit of stringing women along in the name of my career."

Erik frowned and stopped typing long enough to look over at Clay. "What has gotten into you lately? You’re so grumpy, I swear if I didn’t know better I’d think you were suffering another one of your bouts of unrequited love." Erik blanched when Clay made a face at him and looked down at his wine glass again. "Oh my God, Clayton Webb. Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because there’s nothing to tell," Clay said quickly, swallowing the sudden jolt of terror that gripped him. There wasn’t anything to tell, he wasn’t in love with any unavailable man. He didn’t even have a crush, not really. Besides Rabb, a voice in the back of his head that sounded annoyingly like Harm himself reminded him. He shook his head and told his imagination to get over itself. He didn’t have a thing for Rabb, no matter how beautiful the man was. And if anyone could give advice on stringing women along it was Harm. Clay laughed bitterly at that and looked back up at Erik. "I think I know someone that could give your new friend some advice, though. I think he invented the term ‘serial monogamy’."

Erik’s eyebrows shot up again as he watched several emotions pass through Clay’s eyes. Anyone else would have thought the other man was merely annoyed or maybe uncomfortable, but Erik had known him long enough to be able to read his expressions. "You’ve been holding out on me," he accused quietly.

"Oh Jesus, Erik, I have not," Clay moaned, exasperation clear in his voice. He couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth at the thought of Erik wondering what he was hiding, though. "Trust me, Rabb is nothing to get excited about. He’s nobody, just a sanctimonious lawyer that has a knack for getting himself into trouble. He’s an annoyance at best."

"Mm hmm," Erik murmured, holding Clay’s gaze for another long moment before he turned back to the screen. "I’ll deal with you later. Right now we’ve got to fix this poor soul’s love life before he goes over to the Dark Side completely."

Clay let out an unflattering snort and leaned back in his chair again, relaxing as Erik’s attention shifted away from him. "What are you going to do? Invite him over and offer to show him the path into the light?"

"See, I knew you’d get into this if I just gave you some time."

"Don’t even think about it," Clay chuckled, imagining what he’d come home to tomorrow if Erik got any ideas in his head.

"Spoilsport," Erik grumbled. A second later he forgot all about teasing Clay, though, his eyes lighting up as he read something on the computer screen. "Oh. My. God. I might die of cuteness. He has a crush."

"Well how could he not? You’re very attractive until people actually get to know you."

Erik grinned at the backhanded compliment and glanced over at Clay. "Aw, you do love me. But sadly his crush isn’t on me. It’s pre-existing. Some guy he works with."

Clay laughed at that, suddenly feeling unreasonably smug that Erik’s flavor of the moment was stupid enough to fall for someone at work. He ignored the sudden image of Harm that flashed in his mind, telling himself they didn’t even work together so even if he did have a crush it didn’t count. "Poor bastard. Worst thing a military man can do is start making cow eyes at a fellow officer."

"Have a little heart, Clayton." Erik frowned sternly before he turned back to the computer and began to type. "He can’t help it if he’s got a thing for men in uniform, you should relate to…" He trailed off suddenly, his mouth falling open and one hand flying up to stifle a gasp.

"What?"

Erik held his free hand up to silence Clay, shaking his head as he read whatever the other guy was typing. "Oh my, oh my oh my. Sounds like it’s not so one-sided after all."

"What?" Clay nearly whined, catching himself just before he actually got out of his chair to read over Erik’s shoulder. He didn’t want to care about some closet case’s social life, much less a very dangerous flirtation between two men that worked together. It was entirely possible that he knew one or both of them, and if the guy ever got around to telling Erik his real name Clay was the one that was going to have to deal with pretending he didn’t have a clue. Not that it would be difficult for him, that was his profession after all. Still, he knew enough secrets about people, he didn’t have a real desire to hear the ones that he didn’t need to know.

"This is…" Erik stopped abruptly and sniffed, reaching up to wipe at his eyes with the back of one hand. "It’s so beautiful. So romantic."

"Christ, Erik, would you just tell me already?" Clay practically growled.

Erik looked over at him, sniffing indignantly at Clay’s tone. "I’m not sure if I should. This poor boy’s pouring his heart out to me and you don’t even care."

Clay closed his eyes and tilted his head heavenward, wishing he actually believed in God so praying for strength would make him feel better. "Fine, don’t tell me."

Erik was silent for all of three seconds before he wiggled in his chair and Clay knew he couldn't stand it anymore. "Alright, alright, if you must know. Seems his crush gave him quite the Christmas gift this year."

Clay stifled a sigh and bit his tongue, knowing that it wouldn’t do him any good to ask. Erik would tell him the details in his own melodramatic way and interfering with the narrative would just mean he’d have to wait even longer to find out what it was. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and took a sip of wine, signaling his friend that he was listening.

"Honestly, I can’t even imagine how he pulled it off. It’s so deliciously romantic, though. He’s obviously in love. As it turns out our friend has a half-brother that grew up in some war-torn country. Evidently he was in prison, and this other guy called in a bunch of favors and actually got the brother out of jail and back to our Flyboy for the holidays." Erik let out a dramatic sigh at the end of his story, his eyes glazed slightly as he waited for Clay to tell him that indeed that was the most romantic thing he’d ever heard.

Erik was so caught up in reading the rest of his new friend’s story that he didn’t notice Clay’s jaw drop, or the way his friend’s fingers shook as he placed his wine glass down on the desk. If he’d looked over at Clay he would have noticed that all the blood had drained from Clay’s face, but he was too busy babbling in painful detail exactly what Harm’s reaction had been to Clay’s Christmas gift. So he didn’t notice when Clay stood up and crossed to the door, and Clay could still hear Erik’s lilting voice going on and on about the romantic gesture as he made his way to his bathroom and stared into the mirror above his sink.

He’d never imagined…okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Just for a second when Harm looked at him outside the Vietnam Memorial Clay almost suspected that Harm knew his motivation for getting Sergei out of prison, for calling in too many favors and risking his own life to get Harm’s brother home to him. He’d told himself he’d imagined it, though, and every time the suspicion snuck up on him again Clay rationalized it away until finally he was convinced that Harm couldn’t know. He needed to believe that Harm had no idea why he’d done it, because if he did everything would be ruined. Clay couldn’t even admit to himself that it was more than just him being a good person, he wanted Harm to know that he had a heart but it didn’t go beyond that. It couldn’t, there was no way he could have feelings for Rabb.

But there Harm was, sitting in his loft talking in a chat room to someone he didn’t even know about this thing Clay never should have done in the first place. It was no big deal, how many times had he told himself that even while he was calling Harm’s cell phone just to hear the sound of his voice? It was all worth it when he saw the look of gratitude on Harm’s face, and he clung to that look with everything in him. Harm owed him a favor now, that’s why he’d done it. It was the lie that had been keeping him sane since Harm shook his hand and let him walk away on Christmas Eve. He’d always known it was a lie, but it was one he could live with. As long as Rabb never called him on it he’d be able to lie to himself, but that was all over now and Harm didn’t even know who he was spilling his guts to.

Clay turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face, patting his skin dry with a hand towel and making his way back to his office. He squared his shoulders and took his chair again, hoping he looked more composed than he felt as he prepared himself to grill his best friend on everything the man on the other end of the chat room had said about his crush.

The End