Title: Night at the admiral's

Author: Gail

Pairing: A. J. Chegwidden/Clayton Webb

Rating: R

Summary: Admiral Chegwidden has Clayton Webb stay the night after their trip back from Rome to make sure Webb's all right. But is that all there is to it?

Archive: Yes to Jagslash, Complete Kingdom of Slash, WWOMB. All others, please ask.

Sequel to An Italian affair

Spoilers: Soul Searching.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to CBS and Belisarius Productions, not me.

Notes: I'm told that this is slash, of the UST (unresolved sexual tension) type. I don't quite believe it myself, but I thought people might like to know what happened when A. J. and Clayton got back, since A. J. made it clear that Clayton was spending the night.

This story was betaed by Mareen, who encouraged me and made some absolutely fine suggestions that I took because she was right (as usual). Thanks to Greg, who read it over as well and contributed the details on the cooking. Big thanks to Katja and Kyra for loving the first one so much that I felt good about going on with the story.

AN ITALIAN AFFAIR 2: A NIGHT AT THE ADMIRAL'S

By Gail

"Are you sure you want to put basil in that? It'll overpower the other flavors."

"Webb, the recipe calls for basil." A. J. knew he was snapping, but hell, this was *his* kitchen and Webb was trying to tell him how to cook one of his specialties. Fine, it was just a tomato sauce to put over pasta, but he was making it.

Webb smiled and leaned against the counter, still drinking the water both of them had chosen to start with after the long flight. "A recipe is a guide, A. J., not a straightjacket."

A. J. gave him a hard stare, then turned his attention back to stirring the basil into the chopped tomatoes. "Did you want to eat this, or was the meal on the plane enough for you after all?"

"Just trying to help." Clayton's tone was mild, but when A. J. checked again, he was grinning. "All right, I'll stay out of it. I'm sure it'll be delicious."

"Make yourself useful and open the wine. I hope you approve."

"Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. What's not to approve? It has enough body and tannin to stand up to the tomatoes. Even with the basil."

A. J. decided to let that go as he heard the sound of the cork being pulled. "Glasses in the right cabinet."

In a minute there was a glass of red wine within reach of A. J.'s free hand. He saw that Webb was back in the same spot, a glass in his hand as well. "Here's to Tim, and Rome," he said quietly, lifting his glass. Clayton met it with his own.

"To Roma," he echoed.

The men's eyes held each other for a moment, then A. J. turned back to the sauce, telling himself that he was imagining the gleam in Webb's eyes. He knew it wasn't going to happen again. They both did. "Water's boiling. Put in the pasta. Oil's already in, and the salt's right there."

"I didn't know you wanted me over to help cook," Webb said with amusement in his voice, but he picked up the salt and shook some in, then began sifting in the spaghetti with sure hands.

Yes, A. J. thought as Clayton stirred the pasta, making sure it didn't stick together, I knew Webb would be comfortable in a kitchen. He turned back to the sauce. It wasn't reducing quickly enough. He frowned. This was going to throw off the timing of the whole meal.

"Keep an eye on that for me, Clay."

"All right, A. J.," the reply came back. Just then a phone went off. "Damn," Clayton muttered and flipped it open. "Webb." He listened, his face tightening. "Yes. I'll be there." He shut it off and just stood.

"They want to talk to you." A. J. knew it had to be someone from the CIA summoning Clayton to the meeting he was dreading, about his decision to try two rescues of Tim Fawkes without Company authorization. Even though the second one had succeeded, Clayton had made it clear that he expected to be dressed down.

Clayton gave A. J. a sidelong glance at that. "I told you they've been waiting for the chance. There are some very happy men in Washington tonight, and they're going to be even happier tomorrow morning." He put the phone away. "Well, I knew I was taking a chance. I had to, though. I had to get Tim away from them."

"I'll make calls in the morning. You won't get in trouble."

"I know you'll do your best, A. J." He reached out and touched the admiral's bare arm, and A. J. felt that fire again, faint but definite. He made himself breathe before speaking.

"I'm cooking."

Clayton's hand dropped. "Sorry."

"Just not while I'm cooking, Clayton. I'm not..." But he didn't know what he was or wasn't saying, and stopped. This was insane, this was...

"This is awkward." Clayton Webb's voice was perfectly calm. "I don't have to stay, A. J. You're not bound to have me here because you have some kind of SEAL feeling that you need to take care of the new recruit."

"You've proven yourself to be more than that," A. J. said very quietly. "Is the spaghetti done?"

It took Clayton a moment to move, but then he was there, taking the wooden spoon A. J. passed to him and lifting out a strand to taste. "Done." He had potholders on and was lifting the pot over to the sink before the admiral could say anything. Strange having another man in his kitchen, and having him help. But it was nice for a change.

******************

After dinner A. J. watched Clayton stack the bowls and rinse them in the sink before putting them in the dishwasher.

"You're a useful guest," he said dryly, with a smile.

Clayton turned to give him a smile of his own. "Thanks. I try to be. Want me to make some decaf?"

"None for me." Clayton nodded and came back to sit across from him. A. J. waited to speak until the other man had another sip of wine. "What time is your meeting?" He thought the directness might disarm the other man in combination with the fatigue and the wine, but it didn't.

Clayton's smile flickered. "A. J., I have an idea of where you're going with this, and I don't like it." He rubbed his eyes.

A. J. thought about letting it go for the night, but decided to keep pushing. He wanted to know, and now.

"I asked a simple question, Webb. Answer it."

"Ten. And you're not invited, Admiral, so don't get any ideas."

"I need to be there." His voice was flat. "If you remember, I have some interest in this, and I gave you my word." He remembered something else as Clayton's face tightened. "I gave the men in Rome my word as well, that I'd give an account of this to the people here."

Clayton drew a long breath. "There is no rush, A. J. We both know that."

"I'm not letting you go in there alone." A. J. wasn't going to budge. "You're not going to stop me, Clay. I made a promise, and I'm going to keep it."

He locked eyes with Clayton Webb, and it was a long time before Clayton sighed. "I wish you wouldn't." His voice was a whisper now, and his face was drawn and tired. "A. J., this is not going to be a pleasant experience. I'd prefer to be humiliated without you watching."

"I don't intend to let you be humiliated," A. J. retorted. "And I can do that, Clay. Just trust me a little."

"I'm used to taking care of myself." Clayton was quiet a moment. "But I know you mean well. All right, Admiral." He rubbed his eyes again. "Call in your favors. I hope it ends up being worth your time."

"*You're* worth my time, Clayton. You need to believe that." He took a closer look at the younger man, and saw that his eyes were closing even as he was trying to keep up with the conversation. Exhausted. Well, that was easy to deal with. "And you need to get some sleep. Come on. You can have the spare room."

He got to his feet, but Clayton didn't move. "I should go home." His eyes were closed now, A. J. saw.

"You're in no condition to go anywhere." He pulled Clayton up against his body. Damn, but he felt good, warm and firm and right. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that they weren't in Rome any longer. This was home. He had to behave here, and in the long run, trying to have a sexual relationship with Clayton was only going to be a disaster for both Clayton and him. It was better for them to be friends.

Clayton was staring at him now. "You don't want me." His voice was husky and low. "You're just doing this because you think I'm going to fall apart. I don't want your pity, Admiral." He tried to pull away, but A. J. kept hold of him.

"No pity, Clay." He kept his voice strong and certain. "You're a good man, and I'm proud to have you as my friend. Right now you need me, but I'm sure there will be times when I'll need your help. And I know you'll be there for me."

Clayton's laugh was tired. "As long as it's not always getting Rabb out of trouble."

A. J. laughed, too. "No, I promise you that. When I call on our friendship, it'll be for me." He shifted his grip as Clayton sagged. "Come on, Clay. I've got a very comfortable bed in the guest room."

"Of course, the guest room," he heard Clayton murmur, and knew somehow that the other man hadn't meant to say it out loud. He clearly needed more time to get used to the fact that the time in Rome was going to be the one and only. It would be best. Clayton would see it, too.

He got the other man into the guest room, then hesitated for a moment before reaching to take his shoes off. Clayton's eyes were closed, and he told himself firmly to stop worrying. Clayton was a man who had his own honor. He wasn't going to try and pull some kind of stunt to get sex.

He was just reaching for Clayton's belt when the other man's eyes flickered open. The look in his eyes was puzzled for a moment, then he sighed. "I couldn't get home if I wanted to," he admitted and managed a faint smile. "Thank you, A. J. I'll finish."

A. J. had already pulled his hands away. This was awkward, but Clayton needed someone there. Tomorrow they'd go to the CIA people and get them to see sense, then he'd get back to JAG, Clayton would go back to work, and it would all go back to normal.

He hoped it would. And he'd still find a way to be there when Clayton needed him. He would not run out on the man who'd given him the chance to save Tim Fawkes, who'd risked his own career to do good.

Clayton stilled, his eyes drifting shut again even as he worked on his belt. A. J. sighed and reached down to get him undressed. Clayton's eyes opened again, but this time A. J. didn't stop. He wanted to do this, he realized. Just to be sure Clay was all right. It wasn't at all about wanting to see his body again, touch it. No. Not at all.

"Sorry, A. J.," Clayton murmured as A. J.'s fingers undid his zipper.

A. J. made himself take his head away as he shook his head. He worked the pants down, tugging at Clayton to get him to move. "It's all right, Clay. Just help when you can."

Clayton murmured something like "O.K." as he drifted off again. It didn't take long for A. J. to get his outer clothes off, and he frowned, his eyes running over the other man's firm body. No, he decided reluctantly, better to leave the undershirt and boxer shorts on. It was a cool night. He needed to get the other man under the covers. He made up his mind and acted, pulling Clayton up against him for long enough to yank down the sheet and blanket, then easing him down again. Clayton clung to him, which felt good, but he made himself, and Clayton, stop. It took some work, but finally he had the other man lying down, covered, and breathing quietly.

A. J. stood and watched him for a few minutes. He'd never thought he'd give that much of a damn about Clayton Webb, special assistant to State, CIA agent, who'd enlisted and deceived JAG people to get his aims accomplished. But he did.

He left quietly, pulling the door after him but not shutting it. If Clayton did have nightmares, he wanted to be able to hear him.

*****************

It was two in the morning when he heard the moans. A. J. was halfway to the guest room before he was really awake. He got through the door to see that Clayton was twisted up in a ball, shaking, moaning, his and Tim's names interspersed with words of blame and condemnation. Another of those damned nightmares.

"Clay," he said urgently, crouching down by the bed and taking the other man by the shoulder. "Wake up, Clay. Please," he added when nothing more came but moans. "Come on, Clay. You're safe now. It's over."

Clayton stopped suddenly. "Safe," he whispered in a rough voice, and A. J. hoped that this meant he was awake.

"Yes, you're safe," he said gently. He wished he could take the pain away, but he knew he couldn't. "You're all right now."

"Safe? God, A. J., if this is safe, I hope I never get to see what danger is." He laughed harshly. "Go away. This is my problem."

The anger in his voice didn't deter A. J., who didn't move or take his hand away. "I want to help," he said quietly.

"There's nothing you can do that you're *willing* to. Fuck off, A. J. I don't need this shit."

"What you need is to shut the hell up and get some sleep," A. J. snapped back. "Damn you, Webb, do you always push people away?"

Clayton froze at that. "Maybe." The answer came out almost too low to hear. "But you're pushing me away."

A. J. decided that there was only one way to answer that. "Move over," he said tersely as he got on the bed.

"What?"

"You heard me. Move over." Clayton shifted his body toward the far side of the bed, his face stunned and still drawn. A. J. reached over and changed the pillows so that he had the fresh one, shoving the one Clayton had been using back under the other man's head. "Go to sleep. Next time you have a nightmare, I'll be right here. And I'll do what I can to take care of you. I'm not pushing you away, Clayton," he added in a gentler voice when he saw the shock in his eyes. "You're going to have to trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you..."

"You don't trust me when I say I'm going to be here for you. That's all right. I'll show you that I will be. Go to sleep. It's going to be all right." A. J. let his hand rest on Clayton's hair, then took it away. "I'm here. I'll keep you safe."

Clayton drew a long breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, then turned away and held very still. A. J. made himself stay awake until he heard slow, regular breathing from the other man, then let himself drift off. He knew he wasn't going to sleep well, but he'd manage. Clearly Clayton Webb was more hurt than he could have known. Maybe he should get professional help. He'd find a way to bring that up tomorrow.

******************

"No," he heard as he woke. Clayton was turned away from him still, voice muffled and angry. "No!"

"Clay, wake up." A. J. moved closer to the other man.

"Damn you for taking him..." The voice died away, then came back, and A. J. realized that Clayton was in a different kind of nightmare. "Damn you for hurting him! Bitch, you deserved to die..." Now there was sobbing underneath the words, and then soon just sobbing.

A. J. reached out and tried to make Clayton face him. The other man curled up more, but finally he got him to turn. "Clayton, it's all right."

"I want to watch her die again, A. J.," Clayton managed after a moment, the tears still in his voice. "I want to shoot her, make her suffer, make it slow and painful and horrible...god, what does that make me?"

"It'll pass," A. J. murmured and got his arms around him. Clayton clung to him again, and this time A. J. knew it was for comfort. Clayton was wrapped up in these painful feelings that were tearing him apart. "You're angry and you're hurt. It's all right. It will pass. I know, Clay." He thought about telling him about the times he'd had nightmares, but decided against it. "You're going to be fine. Just give it time."

"Time," Clayton echoed, his voice distant and full of pain. "I don't know if I can survive any more of this, A. J." A. J. wisely didn't try to answer that, and after a long moment Clayton sighed. "Tomorrow's going to be a shit of a day."

"It's not here yet. Sleep."

There was a pause. "I'll try."

Clayton shifted, and A. J. felt the other man's erection brush against him. He tried not to show any kind of reaction, simply staying where he was. In a moment he heard Clayton's sigh and felt him shift away.

"Sorry, A. J. I am an idiot."

"I wasn't aware you were able to control that part of your anatomy," A. J. said dryly. "Want to give me lessons some time?" He deliberately shifted so that Clayton could feel that he was hard, too. He wasn't sure when that had happened, but it had.

Clayton let out a short laugh. "This is absolutely ridiculous. Go back to your bed. I'll be fine."

"No." A. J.'s voice was calm and quiet. "We're going to sleep here, and it's going to be all right. We both know that sex is out of the question."

"Well, that's clear." Clayton's voice was dry. "Not that I had any doubts."

"I'm not regretting anything that happened in Rome, Clay. I don't think you do, either."

"But it wouldn't work here. I do know that, A. J. Give me some credit." He sighed and turned back over, away from A. J. "All right. I'll sleep over here and keep away from temptation."

And with that, there was a faint note of laughter in his voice, and that gave A. J. hope. Clayton was going to be all right. It really was a matter of time, and caring.

"I will be here." A. J. turned over as well. His erection was beginning to subside, but he could feel that it wouldn't take much to bring it back on again.

"Thank you." Clayton's voice faded out even as he spoke, and A. J. smiled to himself. With any luck, this time Clayton would sleep more soundly. And things would be better in the morning. He'd make sure of that.

******************

A. J. woke up to see sunlight coming through the window and Clayton Webb with his head buried under the covers but asleep and peaceful. He smiled, then swung out of bed, taking care to keep from shaking the bed too much. It was only six, and it would be good for Clayton to sleep, and for him to have some time to plan out what to do. He was fairly sure he'd covered everything, but he wanted to go over it one more time before implementing his plan.

He showered, dressed in jeans and an old shirt, deciding to wait to put on the uniform, and got coffee going. Then he glanced in on Clayton again and after finding that he was still sleeping, pulled the door to and began making his calls.

When Clayton made his way to the kitchen, A. J. gave him a calm smile that he was almost certain was also smug. "You can relax about that meeting, Clay."

"They threw me out without needing to hear my story?" Clayton accepted a mug of coffee from A. J. and sipped it. "Strong," he murmured.

A. J. glanced at him, but he seemed fine. "The consensus is that you did both State and the Company a favor. You're fine, Clayton. You worried for nothing."

"How many favors did you have to call in, Admiral?" A. J. knew from the cool tone and address that Clayton didn't believe him.

"One. And that was only to get the meeting time changed. You do have friends at the Company, Clayton."

"More likely they were backing Tim than me," Clayton muttered, but sat down across from A. J. He put his mug on the table and put his hand over his eyes. "All right. Thank you."

"I didn't do anything, Clayton."

"Are you certain of your information?" the quick question came after a few more sips of coffee.

A. J. smiled at that. Yes, this was an awake Clayton Webb. "I'm sure. I won't reveal my sources, though."

"I was so damned sure..." His voice trailed off. "I was wrong." A. J. kept very quiet. "Just like I was wrong about you."

"I gave you my word."

"I'd like to think that this was a little more than SEAL stubbornness," Clayton snapped. His eyes burned into A. J.'s calm ones. "Dammit, A. J., I don't know what to think." His anger was gone, and all that was left was confusion.

"Give it time," A. J. said, deliberately casual. He stood, grabbing Clayton's mug up with his own in a clean sweep, and carried them over for refills. He brought them back and set Clayton's in front of him before sitting. "And I think it would be good if you talked to a professional about the nightmares."

Clayton let out a long sigh. "Yes, A. J. I've already thought of that. I'll be calling someone I've talked with before, someone cleared by the Company." A. J. was surprised at that, and it must have showed, from Clayton's next words. "I've needed help before. I know there's nothing wrong with that."

"All right."

The two men stared at each other, than A. J. broke the tension with a smile. "You want some toast?"

"Food does sound good. And, A. J.," Clayton had a smile on his face, although it was strained, "thank you for last night."

"You're on your own tonight." A. J. swore at himself as soon as the words came out, but all Clayton did was nod.

"I know."

"If you need to talk..." He couldn't keep having Clayton Webb sleep at his house, couldn't keep taking care of him, no matter how careful they were. Each of them had to live his own life. He knew that, and still he wanted to.

"I'll make an appointment with a professional. It's all right, A. J. Just stop thinking you can fix everything."

"I will be here."

"And you will be busy."

A. J. was getting angry at the continued refusal of the other man to understand just what he was offering. "I will be here! Dammit, Clay, stop assuming and listen to what I'm saying!"

"I am listening." There was a thread of exhaustion in Clayton's voice still, and A. J. realized that this wasn't the best time to be pushing him. "And I'm trying to understand. I *do* understand. You're offering to talk, to listen to me, but we both know how these things go. There will be times when I need you and you won't be available. It could be as simple as that I'm out of the country, or that you have a girlfriend, or that I do. Or it could be just that you're too tired, or not in the mood to deal with me or whatever you've brought back from Rome with you. Yes, A. J., I know that you had to deal with some ghosts over there as well. You going to get help?"

A. J. was staring at the other man's intense face. "I will be fine." He'd put those ghosts to rest a long time ago. Rescuing Tim had brought them back up, but only for that moment. He knew that. It wasn't the same as what Clayton was going through at all.

"You set a great example, Admiral," Clayton returned dryly.

"Clayton, this is not your business."

"So, you get to worry about me, but I'm not allowed to do the same? Nice friendship we've got here."

"There's no need to worry about me."

Clayton held his eyes for a long moment. "I hope you'll excuse me if I do."

It did feel good to have the knowledge of his concern. "Do what you need to do, Clayton." That was as far as he could go on that subject. Old rules still held too strong. He had to be strong for people, not let them see his fears. Clayton was going to have to figure that one out for himself, but he had a feeling the other man already had.

Finally Clayton nodded. "You said something about toast. Are you going to start it, or shall I?"

A. J. stood. "I will." He got out two slices of bread and pushed down the lever on the toaster, then took the butter out of the refrigerator.

"A. J." He turned to look at Clayton, whose face was determined. "I will be all right. You have to know that."

"I do know that, Clay," he said very softly. "I'm glad to hear that you do, too. I'll be sure to stay in touch."

"I know you will. You're a man of your word."

"You know that it's more than that."

"I'm willing to try to."

A. J. smiled. That was the Clayton Webb he knew, stubborn, proud, and smart. "That's better."

Clayton laughed suddenly. "You're not going to tell your officers about this, are you?"

"Hell, no," A. J. returned emphatically.

"Good." Clayton's lips quirked. "Not that I'm ashamed of this, but I'd prefer to keep it quiet."

"It's our secret."

Clayton nodded. "It all is."

A. J. knew he was talking about the sex, as well. Yes, he thought. He and Clayton Webb were linked together now, by shared danger, shared death, and shared sex. That was what had happened that night in Rome, and even more so last night. And it would all work out somehow, would be all right. Somehow.

THE END