Glancing into the back of the van, Hobbes nodded to himself in satisfaction; Claire was curled up in a small ball in the middle of the sleeping bags, sound asleep and snoring breathily. He wasn't really surprised, given that she hadn't really had any sleep since they arrived on the reservation to investigate the deaths of two men of the tribe. To say that the nights during their stay had been interesting would be putting it mildly. As varied as his missions had been in the past, he couldn't think of any that had included spending the night trying not to get torn limb from limb by Sasquatch.
Too wired for sleep himself and sure that he was about to be blessed with another bout of his chronic insomnia, Hobbes didn't have a problem with being the designated driver while they all got the hell out of Dodge. To his surprise, though, his partner wasn't catching a few z's of his own. Fawkes was sitting slumped down in his seat, one foot on the dashboard, head on the glass of the window, and his expression was empty, as if his soul were a million miles away.
Not good, not good at all in Hobbes' opinion, and he knew he had to get Fawkes talking, get him past the first shock of this latest chapter in the Invisible Man saga. Not that he thought Darrien couldn't handle it on his own; the man had some serious sand, hard as it had been to believe when they first met. But, hey, he was Bobby Hobbes' partner, and that came with a few perks, including wailing wall privileges.
If he waited for Fawkes to break the silence, they'd make it all the way back to the Agency without a peep from either of them. That in mind, Hobbes said as casually as possible, "I still can't believe that nutcase was going to wait until Bigfoot had had his fun before bringing him down. Well, maybe I could see it as a warrior honoring a worthy enemy, but hey, he was a nutcase, not a warrior, and it was a Sasquatch, not really an enemy, just trying to survive. All I can think is that he had to be some kind of a perv. Certainly not a decent soldier, soldiers know to take the enemy down the minute you get a clear shot in your sights."
While Hobbes had talked, Fawkes had slowly turned his head toward the driver's side of the van, his face still blank, though there was a little less distance in his eyes. By the time Bobby was ready to go on about how the military would run a search for an invisible Sasquatch, a thought of a smile was at the corners of Darrien's mouth, and he was back with him where he belonged. "A warrior honoring an enemy?" Fawkes interrupted, trying to put disbelief in his tone, but not exactly making it.
"Yeah, you know, one last ride in the saddle, one last chance to expend a round...."
"You think Bigfoot deserved to get laid before getting blown up," Fawkes broke in.
"Not me. Mr. Nutcase. Personally, I think that you should always get it on as if you're going to die in the next fifteen minutes. Adds to the experience, if you ask me, not that it's not already one *hell* of an experience, though probably nothing at all like what you would have gone through if Mr. Nutcase had had his way. You okay with that, by the way? Not freaked out, questioning your manhood or anything like that because Keepie told you that the gland is female?" Hobbes shot off his last two questions as fast he could, hoping to trick Fawkes into answering before thinking.
Problem was, Darrien knew him too well. He turned back to the window, though a promise of a smile was still in place. "Potential gender-bending where the gland is concerned is the least of my problems with it, Hobbsie. Seems like every time I start to get a handle on what's been done to me, something new comes along and slaps me in the face. I'm starting to get punch-drunk, here."
Then, obviously not wanting to talk about that part of it yet, he added, "As for the getting it on with Sasquatch thing - I've served time. Bigfoot was a dream date compared to some of what happens in prison."
"I've heard the stories, of course," Hobbes said cautiously. "Is it really that bad?"
Darrien looked at him again, lips a thin line that held in pained memories. "I was willing to let them open up my head and put a *thing* in it, just to get out. That should give you some idea."
"There is that," Hobbes said, pretending great interest in the road flashing by them. After a moment of heavy silence, he couldn't stop himself from adding, "Not that you should measure the whole guy/guy thing by what the animals in prison do. Real beasts, Mother Nature's animals, even Sasquatch I'll bet, they don't take their mates for the purpose of hurting them, and almost none of them will try to take a mate that isn't willing. Even with apes, wolves, you know, the whole submission, domination anal thing, the beta male offers. Maybe it's so they won't get beat up, but it's still a choice."
Sitting a little straighter, hand going to a knee to massage restlessly, Darrien said, "That's a lot more open-minded than I expected from a career intelligence man."
With a shrug of both shoulders and hands, Hobbes said, "One of my shrinks was big into exploring the whole sexuality thing. Bisexual, homosexual, heterosexual - she thought it didn't really matter what you called yourself as long as it fit in your head space without any conflicts."
"And you're really that comfortable with it."
"What's to be uncomfortable about?" Deciding now was a good as time as any, Hobbes laid it out for his partner. "I've always thought that as long as it was fun and nobody got hurt, what difference did it make which side of the street you were on at the time, if you catch my drift." Darrien made a non-committal noise, as if he wasn't sure that his lower locomotive appendage wasn't having outward force exerted upon it, and silence started to build again.
Before it could get too weighty, Hobbes added softly, "It isn't at all like what happens in prison. That's just pain, control, misdirected hate."
"From where I sit, that's hard to believe," Darrien said, not making it clear whether he was referring to his partner's confession or his claim that gay sex wasn't that bad.
Deciding to give him time to think about it, Hobbes went with the second possibility. "Well, you'd have trouble convincing a young girl sex could be fun if her first experience was rape, and that's with Madison avenue and everybody else in this country selling the idea that sex is good. What chance does a guy have to buy that gays might know a thing or two when the whole country acts as if homosexuality is right next door to cannibalism?"
Propping his head on his hand, looking at Bobby sideways, Darrien said, "You know, I promised myself that was going to quit being surprised when you get deep on me."
"Layers," Hobbes said happily. "Layers." Spotting a gas station ahead, he glanced at the gauge and put on his turn signal. "Need a pit stop?"
Letting him drop the subject, Fawkes said, "I could use one."
"Done." He pulled off the road, thought about it for a split second, then chose the pumps at the side that were facing into the woods. "Let Claire sleep; I don't mind pulling over again later if she needs it."
"Yeah, she's out cold." As Hobbes put the van in park, Darrien opened the door and unfolded himself on the other side of it, ambling toward the gas station building, head hanging and hands in his back pockets.
After pumping the gas, Hobbes lingered outside the van, checking out their surroundings. He had deliberately parked so that it was facing the road with the woods behind it, and there was more forest on the passenger side with the station itself on the driver's. Not very defensible, maybe, but private enough for what he had in mind.
When Fawkes meandered back, Bobby opened the van's passenger door, draped his jacket over the window, and perched on the edge of the seat, feet dangling out. With a quick glance in back to make sure that Claire was still sleeping, he waited until his partner stopped in front of him, puzzlement clear on his face.
"What?" Darrien asked.
Crooking a finger, Bobby said, "C'mere a minute." Hiding a smile when his partner automatically did as told, he leaned forward, put a hand on Darrien's shoulder, and lightly kissed him full on the lips.
Braced for any reaction from pulling away in disgust to taking a swing, he was pleasantly surprised when Darrien just let himself be kissed. Hobbes didn't try to put much of anything into it, but went for friendly and nice, like he had when he was eleven and his best friend's sister had asked him to kiss her, just so she'd know what it was like. Fawkes didn't try to kiss him back at first, but his mouth softened and warmed just that tiny bit that told Hobbes that whatever his partner thought of it, it felt pretty good.
Letting himself savor the taste and feel for a minute, Bobby pulled back, determinedly not letting anything show on his face but casual interest. Darrien simply stood and stared at him, nothing much of anything that was going on his head out where it could be seen. Then he leaned in and took Bobby's mouth, making it much more serious than Hobbes ever expected.
It was a good kiss; bold without being pushy, soft and slick and sweet in all the right ways, and he opened to it without meaning to. Darrien took him up on the unintended invitation, deftly deepening their kiss and moving in closer, one hand curling possessively around the back of Bobby's neck. That suited him fine, just fine. Darrien was muscular and lean, just the way he liked his lovers, and boy did he know how to kiss once he got started.
With a little moaning sigh, Bobby made himself break it off, taking care to do it slowly so his retreat couldn't be mistaken for rejection. He sat back in the seat, swinging his feet into the van, and took a deep breath, not hiding how shaken he was. Thankfully Darrien looked just as rattled, and for a moment he studied Bobby with wounded, wondering eyes.
Then he grinned in his usual cocky way, though maybe not as convincingly as he hoped, and said, "I thought you didn't believe in fishing off the company pier."
Grinning back, more realistically he hoped, Bobby said lightly, "Not fishing, not fishing. Just, you know, doing my job."
"Your job?"
Scooting over to get behind the steering wheel, he answered, "Showing the rookie the ropes, giving the junior partner the benefit of my experience."
"Junior?" Darrien asked disbelievingly, getting in the van and shutting the door. "Junior?" he repeated, more sarcastically.
"Junior, as in I'm the senior because I've been in the business longer, as in I'm the vet of the intelligence wars and you're the greenhorn," he quipped, not daring to look directly at Fawkes.
"Junior," Darrien said yet again, this time putting indignation into it.
Inside, Hobbes crowed triumphantly. His partner was back from whatever dark place he had fallen into and back in the real world - with him, where he belonged.
finis