Title: Connections: Red-Handed

Author/pseudonym: Caroline Crane

Fandom: JAG

Paring: Rabb/Webb

Rating: PG13

Status: new

Archive: yes to list archives

Series/Sequel: part 5 of ? (Follows "Connections: Dinner for Two"). The rest of the series can be found on my web site.

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: Sorry about the long delay on this series too. I seem to be saying that a lot lately but I've had a funeral, a change of residence, and an overabundance of family members to deal with in the past month.

Summary: Clay can't sleep so he does a little 'research' and gets caught.

Warnings: Spoilers for "Answered Prayers"

Connections: Red-Handed
By Caroline Crane

Clay scowled at the computer screen and finally gave in to the urge to open the file he’d been staring at for the past ten minutes. Part of him felt like he was invading someone’s privacy by looking at the chat transcript Erik had saved, but it wasn’t really like prying. After all, Erik had told him what Harm had said, he was just checking for himself to make sure there was nothing incriminating about either of them in there. Who knew what Harm had let slip while he was busy pouring his heart out to a stranger, if Clay was going to be the level-headed one he needed to make sure that Harm hadn’t said anything either of them might regret.

He nodded in silent agreement with himself and began scrolling through the chat transcript, a small smile forming on his lips as he read some of the parts Erik had left out. He’d mentioned Harm’s brother and the fact that Harm had had a thing for him for years now, but he hadn’t told Clay everything Harm had said about him. There was the way Harm described Clay’s cologne, for instance – a poet he definitely was not, but Clay couldn’t help being a little affected by the fact that Harm thought he smelled like deep woods covered in a fresh snowfall. Then there was the way Harm talked about how he felt whenever they ended up in tight quarters together, evidently even during the middle of their most dangerous cases he’d had trouble focusing whenever Clay was around.

That information was certainly gratifying – a little nerve wracking, maybe, considering Harm could have cost them their lives if he got too distracted a few of those times. It would explain why Harm insisted on throwing himself in the path of danger even when Clay didn’t want him around, though, and it definitely explained why Clay never seemed to be able to shake the Commander. Even when he specifically told Harm that he was in the way and his help was not welcome Harm insisted on getting in the middle of things, Clay had always assumed he was just pig-headed but now he knew the truth. Not that he didn’t still think Harm was pig-headed, but it made so much more sense now that he knew the other man shared his feelings.

He sighed and turned his attention back to the chat transcript, telling himself it wouldn’t do him any good to start wondering ‘what if’. He couldn’t just go over there and tell Harm that he happened to find the one person in Clay’s entire life that was still amused by the internet, even if he thought they could juggle a relationship and their careers he knew how Harm would react to that kind of confession. Although it might be worth it just to see his face…Clay shook his head, grinning in spite of himself in the darkness of his study. He wouldn’t mind messing with Rabb’s mind a little, but that was too mean even for him. Even if Rabb did deserve it for stringing all those women along and making Clay think he was completely clueless.

As soon as the thought occurred to him he reached the part of the chat transcript where Harm went into Mac’s latest ploy to win his affections, and he found himself rolling his eyes at the guilt Harm expressed. Maybe he should be comforted by the fact that he was at least expressing some guilt over his habit of leading women on, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier for Clay to stomach the idea of Harm and Mac in a relationship. He closed his eyes tight against a sudden image of what their wedding would look like – Harm in dress whites, that grim smile he wore when he was about to march into certain, unavoidable disaster. Mac would be radiant and painfully oblivious, as usual…truly a match made in hell. He forced his eyes open again and scrolled further down in the chat, past the nonsense about Colonel MacKenzie and her suitability as a beard.

When he reached the section where Harm talked about how irritating Clay could be he stopped and started reading again, his smile returning as he read the words "impossible" and "frustratingly logical" in the same sentence. It was nice to know that he got under Harm’s skin at least as much as Harm got under his; after all, if he was going to spend the majority of his time sexually frustrated and annoyed by the object of his affections then it was only fair that Harm should be suffering too.

He’d nearly reached the end of the transcript when a little white box popped onto the screen in front of him, and his eyes flew wide open as he saw that it was a message of some sort. There was a small box just like the one Erik used when he talked to…no, it was impossible. He wasn’t even online. But there it was, in black and white, the screen name "Flyboy" listed right above Erik’s screen name in a box on the side of the chat. Clay groaned as he saw what Erik was calling himself, his skin flushed and his hands shaking as he wondered what he should do. He could just close the chat and disconnect from the server, pretend he’d never seen the message. But Harm was sure to ask Erik the next time they talked, or worse yet he’d just e-mail Erik and ask why he left.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath as he stared at the words blinking back at him and wondered how to answer.

Flyboy: You’re up late.
Flyboy: Are you there?

Clay groaned again as the question popped up, wondering how many months it would be before Erik let this go. He was going to hear about it, unless Clay found a way to convince him to give up chat rooms and his new internet friend. Which was about as likely as Clay just telling Harm that it was him on the other end of the line. He took a deep breath and willed his fingers to stop shaking at least enough to type before he reached for the keyboard and thought up an appropriate response.

Boytoy: Can’t sleep.

Smooth, Clayton, very smooth, Clay told himself as he stared at the words on the screen. This wasn’t happening, it just couldn’t be. It had to be some kind of vivid nightmare, and any minute he’d wake up in a cold sweat and promise himself for the millionth time that he was never going to think about Harmon Rabb again. Probably right after the Harm in his dream typed "I know it’s you, Clay" on the screen.

Flyboy: LOL, me either. Must be something in the air.

LOL? What the hell did LOL mean? Damn the military and their obsession with acronyms anyway, he wasn’t in the mood to decipher code tonight. Not that he couldn’t do it, but he’d be damned if he was going to spend the whole night typing pleasantries with Harm.

Boytoy: Must be. So how was dinner with your brother?

The instant he typed it Clay rolled his eyes at himself, annoyed not only by the fact that he was starting a conversation but that he’d remembered what Harm had done with his evening in the first place. In fact when he and Erik went out for dinner he found himself looking around the restaurant, half-expecting to see Harm and Sergei at the next table. Which was ridiculous, considering how much further south he lived than Harm.

Flyboy: I still can’t get over the fact that he’s here. It’s just amazing, this whole grown person that I didn’t get to grow up with, and he’s sitting there across from me eating Tandoori chicken. And all thanks to someone that I can never repay.

Boytoy: I’m sure he wasn’t expecting any kind of repayment. Maybe he just knew how much it would mean to you.

As soon as he typed it Clay regretted it, but it wasn’t like he could take it back. What the hell was he doing anyway? He was sitting in the dark, calming discussing his own motivations for bringing Sergei to America with Harm himself. There was no way Harm could ever know how much trouble he’d gone to in order to get Sergei into the country, how many favors he was going to owe most likely ten times over before he got Sergei’s residence application to go through. He was pretty sure Harm had no idea that he’d been tracking the progress of the application, but he knew why it was stalled and he was already working on a way to get it through the system without Harm realizing he was involved.

"Hopeless," he muttered at the screen, although he wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to.

Flyboy: Maybe. I know it’s not even possible, but part of me wishes he did want something in return, you know? I mean not the usual ‘I’ve got something to hold over your head so you don’t give me any trouble the next time I need your help’. Maybe I should just tell him.

Clay’s eyes widened again and his heart stopped at the thought of Harm coming right out and telling him to his face that he had feelings for him. Part of him had been wishing for that since the first time he saved Harm’s ass, but over the years he’d told himself so many times that it could never work that he’d actually started believing it. Now he was so convinced that he and Harm couldn’t manage an actual relationship that the thought terrified him. "Rabb, you moron," he muttered under his breath as he struggled for a reply.

"I knew it."

Clay froze at the sound of Erik’s voice, his mind racing as he tried to think of a plausible lie. How the hell was he going to get out of this? Granted, he hadn’t been able to sleep and he hadn’t actually known that the computer was still connected to the internet, but neither of those excuses explained why he’d just said Rabb’s name. Slowly he turned and looked over his shoulder to find Erik leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a look of utter betrayal etched in his features.

"I hope you know you’re not my best friend anymore. It’s over, Clayton, don’t even try to talk your way out of it. The whole time…the whole time you knew who he was and you didn’t even tell me."

"Erik, I…" Clay trailed off as Erik’s eyes narrowed, the look he’d seen a thousand times over the years telling him that it was useless to try to argue with him. He also knew that Erik’s threats to end their friendship were about as genuine as his friend’s blue contacts, but just hearing him threaten to drop Clay let him know how betrayed Erik felt. "I’m sorry. It was just a shock."

"Whatever," Erik muttered as he walked over to the desk and looked over Clay’s shoulder. "What on earth are you doing? Are you actually offering him advice on yourself? That’s just unethical, Clayton."

An unflattering snort escaped Clay as he turned his attention back to the chat and realized Harm was still waiting for him to say something. "Oh, shit, I forgot. I have to tell him something. Maybe I should just hang up and pretend the server cut me off."

"Don’t you dare," Erik hissed, grabbing Clay’s arm and tugging him up and out of the chair. "Get out of my way and let me fix the mess you made. He probably thinks I’ve been drinking or something. Lord, Clay, pretending to be me? Really, honey, you know I love you but never in your wildest dreams could even you pull that off."

Clay laughed in spite of his current state of panic and let Erik push him into the leather chair next to the desk, leaning forward as he watched his friend’s hands fly across the keyboard. Erik did know a little something about damage control, after all he spent most of his professional life dealing with temperamental artists. In some ways their jobs weren’t that different, although on the surface no one would ever recognize the similarities. "What are you telling him?"

"I’m telling him what I told you."

"Refresh my memory," Clay prodded, casting a longing glance in the direction of the kitchen as he thought about the bottle of wine still on his counter.

A long-suffering sigh escaped his throat as Erik stopped talking long enough to glance over at him. "You know, Clayton, of all the things I could accuse you of I never thought I’d be adding ‘coward’ to the list. If you won’t just tell the man how you feel then maybe he’ll tell you, then you’ll have to deal with it."

"Don’t you dare," Clay hissed, all the amusement draining from his features as he realized what Erik was about to do. "I’m serious, Erik, just tell him you have to go and hang up. You have no idea what the situation is, don’t confuse him even more."

For a torturous moment Erik just stared at him, but finally he sighed again and shrugged. "Fine, it’s your love life, no reason you shouldn’t throw away another perfectly good man in the name of your precious job. But don’t say I didn’t try everything in my power to get you two together when you’re old and gray and all alone."

"I promise not to hold it against you," Clay murmured as he watched Erik type.

Boytoy: Listen, hon, I hate to run so soon but I really must get my beauty sleep. We’ll talk about this again soon. In the meantime don’t do anything crazy like run out and marry that girl of yours.

Flyboy: Okay, I should try to get some sleep too. Maybe things will make more sense in the morning.

"There, I’ve sent him to bed," Erik announced, staring mournfully at the screen for a few more seconds before he glanced over at Clay. "Poor boy’s even more confused now, I swear you’re giving him a complex, Clayton."

"Me? I’m not the one that’s been encouraging him to throw away his entire career for three days," Clay shot back.

"There’s no reason the two of you couldn’t work around your jobs," Erik answered, holding Clay’s gaze with a stern expression. "Honestly, Clay, when did you become such a fatalist? You’ve dated with an eye for discretion before. Besides, his poor heart’s breaking and it’s all your fault."

Clay sighed and looked down at the floor, telling himself that the thought of Harm’s heartbreak didn’t make him want to cry. He was just tired, he needed a decent night’s sleep and he needed to not think about Rabb for awhile. Of course that wasn’t going to happen while Erik was around, in fact any chance Clay might have had of getting through the rest of his friend’s visit in relative peace had died the second Erik caught him talking to Harm.

"It’s not just the career issue," he finally answered. "The fact that he’s Navy makes it harder, yes, but the man’s been living in the closet his entire life, as far as I know. Do you know how difficult it would be to deal with the trauma of Rabb coming out in his private life? I don’t even want to think about what it would be like to have to watch him come out publicly."

Erik smiled fondly at the idea of his ‘Flyboy’ coming out, a soft sigh escaping his throat as he watched Clay brood. "But they’re so cute when they first come out, just like little baby birds testing their wings. It makes it worth all the histrionics."

"Fine, you lead him into the light," Clay grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he watched Erik’s eyes light up at that suggestion. "On second thought just forget you even know who he is."

"Jealousy does not become you, Clayton. Trust me, one day you’ll be thanking me for stumbling upon your little friend. What were you doing talking to him anyway?"

Clay sighed and leaned back in the chair, the effort of holding his head up suddenly too much for him. He should have known Erik wouldn’t forget that little detail. "I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to check that chat you saved and see if Rabb said anything incriminating about me over an unsecure line. I didn’t know you’d left the damn thing connected to the internet."

"I didn’t," Erik answered, not bothering to hide a smirk at the thought of Clay snooping to see what Harm had said about him. "When you opened the chat transcript it probably dialed in automatically, these new software programs are always dialing themselves in when they think you’re trying to connect to something online. So do you want me to save the transcript of your first chat with your Flyboy?"

"No." Clay groaned and shot a glare at Erik as his friend laughed and turned back to the computer, bracing himself for the torture Erik was probably already plotting. "I just want to forget this whole night ever happened."

"I don’t, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages."

"Then you need to get out more," Clay muttered.

"Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black if I’ve ever heard it," Erik answered cheerfully. "So what’s Flyboy’s real name again?"

"You call him by his real name and I will kill you with my bare hands."

Erik’s eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched into an evil grin. "Ooh, Clayton, if I’d known how forceful you could be I might have rethought that whole ‘platonic’ clause on our friendship. Is this what you’re like when you’re at work? No wonder your lawyer’s got it so bad."

"Cute, Erik," Clay said, although he didn’t quite manage to disguise his pleasure at the compliment. "Harmon Rabb Jr., Lieutenant Commander in the Navy and all-around pain in the ass."

Erik laughed and stood up, reaching out one hand to pull Clay out of his chair. "I’m not even going to touch that one," he said, laughing even harder as he watched Clay flush. "Come on, let’s go get that beauty sleep. Then tomorrow I can talk you into letting me play matchmaker."

"Over my dead body," Clay muttered. He sighed and followed Erik out of the study, his shoulders sagging as he realized for the first time how tired he really was. As he reached his bedroom door he stopped and turned around just in time to see Erik stop in the doorway to the guest room. "Hey Erik?"

"Yeah?"

"What does ‘LOL’ mean?"

The End