by Sammy Girl

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be.

Note: This fic grew far longer then I had anticipated. In addition an evil plot bunny crept in with its own sub plot, about which I will say no more ;-) Thanks as ever to the wonderful Kerry for all the beta work and Charlotte for the helpful insight.

Ezra saved his files and shut down his computer, he spent a brief few minutes tidying his already immaculate desk. The others were also preparing to leave and were making plans for the weekend.

"Coming to the saloon Ez?" Vin asked.

Standish just shook his head. "Not today, thank you."

Buck came over to him and rested a hip on the edge of Ezra's desk, one impossibly long leg stretching out across the gap between his desk and Nathan's. Ezra swallowed and forced himself to look away.

"What's up Ez?" he asked in a voice that was soft and serious at the same time and belied his casual posture.

Jade eyes darted up to catch Buck's and then looked away.

"I have other plans for this weekend, I do have a life you know, friends and a social life outside this team." With that he picked up his briefcase and stood up straight. Since Buck was still perched on his desk, just for once he was able to look the tall agent in the eye. "Don't we all?" he added enigmatically.

Vin watched the exchanged and Standish's silent exit, before he came over to Wilmington.

"What's up with him?" the Texan asked.

Buck was still looking at the door, waiting for it to finally stop swinging, only when it was finally still did he look at the Texan, and there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. He shrugged. "Who knows?"

With that he was up and calling loudly to JD to hurry up, reminding the younger agent that he had ridden into work with Buck, so he better hurry if he didn't want to be left stranded.

<><><><><><><>

The saloon was crowded and noisy, like it always was on a Friday night, the remaining six members of Team Seven made there way to their customary booth - no matter how crowded the bar no one sat in Team Seven’s seat - and instantly the drinks arrived. Inez didn't need to ask to know what they wanted, nor worry that the tab she had started wouldn't be paid before they left. Chris had already asked where Ezra was. It had taken them some time when he first joined the team to persuade - actually it took a direct order from Chris - the wary southerner to join them for their traditional Friday night drink and even longer to convince him he was welcome, not just there, but at any other team get together. Now it seemed in the last week Ezra was retreating back into himself.

It couldn’t be work, they hadn't had a difficult case in weeks, not even a stressful court case to deal with - not that testifying ever seemed to bother Standish. But he was due in court next week on a routine case involving the smuggling of Cuban cigars. The FBI had requested an ATF officer after investigating the suspicious activities of a tour operator, and finding that he was up to nothing more seditious than smuggling cigars. They all knew how Ezra felt about working with the FBI, but he was the best person to go undercover as a connoisseur looking for real Havanas. The agent wasn't local, he came from the Salt Lake City office, which was the real reason they needed Ezra - local knowledge. Despite his dislike of his former employers, Ezra was pleasantly surprised by his new partner and they worked well together. All that had happened three mouths ago. Three days ago Agent Parker arrived for a pre-court appearance case conference. That was when Ezra changed.

"Chris?"

Larabee suddenly became aware that Josiah was speaking to him.

"Yeah?"

"Have you noticed that Ezra suddenly clammed up about that feeb he's been working with on the cigar case?"

Chris turned to the big profiler, with a sly smile. "You know I was just thinking the same thing, I think we need to know a bit more about Special Agent Sam Parker."

"Leave it with me," Sanchez assured.

Buck wasn't having much fun either. He'd done something to upset Ezra, just when he thought he was making headway. But Buck Wilmington was a past master of looking like he was happy and having fun when he was miserable, a skill he had learnt at his mother's knee.

<><><><><><><>

Ezra tossed his keys into the jade bowl on the hall table, as he closed the door of his apartment behind him. He leant back and took a deep breath. Betrayal seemed to be following Ezra Standish, it appeared to be his lot in life. First his mother, then the FBI and now his friend, the man he loved. He could see no reason for it, he couldn't think of anything he had done wrong. It had all started so well. Ezra had never tried to pretend he was straight, but he hadn't exactly advertised his sexual orientation either. As far as he knew none of the others were aware of his preferences, he was all but celibate after all. He couldn't help but be attracted to his new team-mates, they were all very attractive men, in their own way, but it was Buck - of all people - who really lit his fire. Buck was the one who he found himself gazing at. It was Buck's voice that quickened his heart. For two whole years he had pined in secret and in vain as Buck paraded one woman after another past him. Listened - heart broken - to the lanky agent’s colourful tales of his amorous encounters. He was drawn, like a moth to the flame by Buck's innate warmth, his gentle soul and honesty. The first clue he had that his feelings might just have chance of being returned, was a drunken remark that Chris had let slip last Memorial Day, when they were all out at the ranch.

<><><><><><><>

"Hi Ezra!" Chris greeted him merrily, as he strolled out onto the veranda at the back of the house.

Larabee was sitting on the steps behind the kitchen, beer bottle in hand. While it was clear that Chris was drunk, Ezra wasn't, not really. To get truly drunk you need to feel safe, safe enough to not worry about what you say or do, Ezra had never felt that safe, not once in his whole life. Chris had leant back to wave at Ezra and overbalanced, sprawling on the decking, gazing up at Standish.

"Having fun Ez?" Chris asked, without trying to get up.

"Indeed, a most agreeable evening, Mr Larabee."

"A most agreeable ever-sning! Jeez Ez, lighten up man." Chris managed to pull himself up again. "Have a seat." Larabee patted the step beside him.

While Ezra wasn't drunk, he was more than a little merry, enough to drop some inhibitions, so he dropped down on to the step beside his host and boss.

"Why do ya have to talk so fancy all the time Standish, can't ya just relax and be yer self?" Larabee wanted to know.

"I am what I am sir, I can no more change the way I speak, than Mr Wilmington could bed a man."

He hadn't been intentionally fishing for information, and was stunned when Chris leaned into him and whispered, with whisky and beer soaked breath.

"Oh you'd be surprised who and what Buck will bed, he's a man of wide tastes."

<><><><><><><>

That was when he first though he had a chance. It would have to be done gently, very, very gently. A phrase came to mind, on of his mothers favourites, 'Softly, softly, catchy monkey'. So - in what he hoped were subtle ways - he began to come on to Buck. At first nothing happened. Wilmington was so comfortable with people in his personal space, such a naturally tactile person, he didn't even seem to notice Ezra's advances. Then one day when everyone was out of the office for one reason or another except the two of them, he asked Buck out to lunch. And, while they sat in the restaurant - Italian - he slipped off his shoe and ran one silk clad toe up the tall man's shin. For some reason Ezra found Buck's long legs particularly attractive. Then he froze and waited for the reaction, the rejection, the shock, the disgust, or even indifference. What he got was a shy smile. Shy was not a word anyone would normally associate with Buck Wilmington, but there it was. Ezra repeated the toe stroke, and got the same response.

"That was nice," Buck confessed softly, tilting his head and looking at Ezra coquettishly.

"You really liked it?" Just for once Ezra was the one struggling for words.

"What's not to like, a beautiful man, a man who could have his pick of all the available men in the city, is paying me attention."

"And would you be receptive to more of this attention?" Ezra enquired, barely able to breathe as he waited for the answer.

"I'm always receptive to some tender attention Ezra, you know that."

<><><><><><><>

Ezra had made that first move so it was up to Ezra do pursue it. But how? Ostensibly he and the tall agent didn't have that much in common outside work. Buck liked sport, Ezra didn't - other than tennis he rarely watched any sport. When the team gathered on a Sunday to watch the match, he tended to just doze off. Their tastes in music were diverse but didn't seem to overlap, never the less it was a concert that Ezra chose as his next move.

There was an open-air concert in Boulder, popular classical music and film music, ending with the 1812 overture and fireworks, he purchased two tickets and then approached Buck.

"Mr Wilmington," he began, having managed to get Buck alone in the parking garage one evening.

"Ez, you have to call me Buck, Mr Wilmington was my grandfather, and I do not wish to be associated with him."

Ezra was momentarily taken aback, Buck wasn't a man who discussed his past often, when he thought about it he knew very little about the man he lusted after. So this rare admission was a surprise, and he took it as a good sign.

"Very well, Buck, I have two tickets for a concert on Saturday, I was wondering if you were free?"

Buck regarded the smaller man, still immaculate in his silk suit at the end of the day, despite the summer heat.

"What kind of concert?" he asked.

"Would you allow me to surprise you?"

Buck though about it, weighing up the pros and cons. Finally he nodded. "I'm in your hands sir, tell me when and were."

Ezra beamed. "My place, at about six, dress casual."

"Casual?" Buck queried.

"It is an outdoor concert."

<><><><><><><>

Since he was driving, Buck wasn't drinking, he wished he was, maybe drink would take edge of the ache, for a while anyway.

Don't think like that Buck, look what happened to Chris, he chided himself, as he forced himself to smile as yet one more of JD's lame jokes.

All he wanted was to go home, have a beer - just the one - veg out in front of the TV until he fell asleep, just get through another day. How long had it been since it had all gone wrong, he tried to think back, but it was hard, what with trying to appear to listen to the conversations taking place all around him and make the occasional comment.

Oh come on JD, lets go home, he silently pleaded.

He had been enjoying the last three weeks, letting Ezra romance him, woo him. He had never been on the receiving end of a real romance. They had been going out for all that time and yet physically nothing had happened beyond some kissing - damn good kissing it was true - but still just kissing. Normally, any relationship that didn't lead to a bed by the second date, was a failure in his book. Yet it didn't feel like a failure, just the opposite, he had never been happier, or so he thought until three days ago.

<><><><><><><>

The concert had been great. Ezra informed him they were going in his car, Buck liked riding in the Jag so that was a good start. When he found out the concert was in Boulder he was even happier, far less chance of being found out. When he found out it was a classical concert the happiness waned. But Ezra showed him the program, some of the films mentioned he knew and so he reckoned that wouldn't be too bad, he'd been surprised by the Elgar 'Cello concerto, very pleasantly surprise. Lying back on the rug, gazing at the stars letting the music taking him on an imaginary flight over the mountains. That had been Ezra's idea.

"Just lie back and let the music carry you away," he advised. "Imagine you can fly, imagine soaring like an eagle over the land, rising and falling on the wind."

So there they lay, side by side, hands behind their heads, gazing at the star lit sky.

Then the finale, Ezra told him the story of the epic battle for Moscow and the defeat of the French by the self-sacrifice and bravery of the Russian people and the awesome power of the Russian winter. It wasn't that he was totally ignorant of the history, he took history at college after all, though his major was in twentieth century history. But no one had ever told him the story the way Ezra did, suddenly all those long words were put to good use. The soft southern voice conjured up a world of epic battles, fearsome Cossacks, freezing - dying troops, feats of endurance, unimaginable self-sacrifice and a flaming city. Finally the music was more than just a good tune with some cannons, it made sense, it stirred his soul, he hardly even noticed the fireworks. As a second date it was quite as emotionally charged as any roll in the hay.

Before the concert they had picnicked, supplied by Ezra. To Buck a picnic was sandwiches, potato chips, soda or beer if he wasn't driving, maybe a cold chicken leg or a candy bar. To Ezra, a picnic was champagne, sparkling water with a twist of lemon, Parma ham and melon balls, Pate de Fois Gras and melba toast, Caesar salad, cold honey glazed chicken kebabs, hand made tortilla chips and fresh avocado dip and individual summer puddings and fresh cream. That would have been enough, but come the interval, and much to Buck's amused delight, Ezra produced caramel apples.

"Ezra?" Standish looked up from stowing the rug and picnic box in the trunk of the Jag as they prepared to head back to the city.

"Yes?" he closed the trunk and came around the car to join Buck by the passenger door.

"Thank you, this evening was, well it was wonderful, I really enjoyed it," Buck confessed. He reached out and placed his hand on Ezra's neck, giving it a friendly squeeze, before he released it he let his thumb brush down Ezra's jawbone.

It was hard to tell in the poor light of the parking lot but he though he saw Ezra blush as he brushed off the thanks with a quick 'It was nothing really, you’re welcome.'.

<><><><><><><>

The six members of Team Seven in the Saloon decided to eat there as well, that is five of them did, Buck just went along with them. He picked his way through half a bowl of chilli, it was that, rather then anything else, that alerted his friends there was something wrong.

"Buck, you feeling okay?" Nathan asked.

Wilmington didn't look up, he was still trying to work out what he had done to upset Ezra.

"Buck?" Nathan tried again.

"Yeah Nate, what is it?" he muttered with out looking up.

"You sick?"

Finally Buck looked up, a frown on his face. "No, why?"

"'Cause you ain't eatin'," Vin supplied.

Buck looked down at the half empty bowl. "Oh, sorry just not hungry." He pushed the bowl away from him.

"So you don't want that?" Vin clarified.

"Nah." Even before he had finished the word two hands shot toward the bowl, Vin's reflexes were a fraction quicker then JD and he claimed the prize.

"It's like living with vultures," Chris commented as Vin tucked into the left over chilli while JD scowled at him.

Buck excused himself and headed to the bathroom.

"You think it's catching?" Josiah asked.

"What?" asked JD, still scowling at Vin.

"What ever Buck and Ezra have that's making them miserable?" Nathan supplied. "JD who's Buck dating right now?"

Dunne shrugged. "Don't know, he hasn't told me anything about her, but it's been going on for about three weeks now. Maybe they broke up."

"You don't know?" Josiah asked.

"Nope, he doesn’t talk about the bust-ups."

Inez came over to collect the empty glasses. "Why is Senor Buck so sad?" she asked.

"We don't know," Josiah admitted.

"And where is Senor Standish?"

"We don't know that either," Nathan informed her.

"Hah! Men, useless." With that she stalked off again.

As Chris watched her go he spied Buck coming back. "JD I think you're tired and you want to go home." He looked pointedly at the young man.

"No Chris I'm …"

Josiah jabbed him in the ribs and them pointed across the bar to the dejected looking figure walking toward them.

"Oh, oh ok." He grabbed his coat and slid out of the booth as Wilmington approached. "Hey Buck, would you mind if we went home now? I'm kinda tired."

<><><><><><><>

The ride home was all but silent, JD looked over at the man he considered his brother in all but blood. Either he was sick or the new romance was over, either way he wasn't about to tell JD about it. When he was upset he told Buck all about it, Wilmington always seemed to be able to see a way out of his troubles, he could always put them in perspective, and no matter how he tried to hide it big brother Buck always knew when he was sick. Driving along in silence he felt a failure. Why couldn't he seem to help his big brother the way Buck helped him?"

Say something JD, don't just sit there in silence, do something, he berated himself.

"Buck?"

"Mmm."

"I wanted to say, well, what ever it is, if I can help tell me, if it's me say so - I'll fix it, if you’re sick tell someone - please."

Buck drove on in silence for a while. His first reaction was to tell JD there was nothing wrong, but that was a dumb idea. Good as he was at hiding his true feelings, hiding it from his friends, the men who knew him the best took more effort than he could summon up right now.

"Don't worry kid, it'll blow over or sort itself out soon enough."

JD hadn't expected even that much from Buck, so he was pleasantly surprised. At least he admits there is a problem.

"Well I'm here if you need me."

"I know."

<><><><><><><>

The third date was where things got serious. Ezra asked Buck out to dinner. He debated long and hard about the choice of restaurant. It had to be someplace where they would both feel comfortable. That cut out most of Ezra's usual favourites, he doubted Buck was a fan of formal French cuisine, much less the formal restaurants Ezra favoured. That said he had no intention of putting on his one pair of jeans and going to some road side steak house, where no doubt the ambient music would be a cacophony of country and western with accompanying yelling and shouting. They both liked Italian, but some how he didn't associate Italian food with formal dining, and besides they'd done Italian, so he chose Chinese instead.

The Chef Peking stood just outside the city to the south, overlooking a lake. Ezra knew his friend liked Chinese food, he had seen him eat it before, but that was always a takeout, which he would consume from the carton with a fork. Standish suddenly had a crisis of confidence that Buck couldn't use chop sticks and would be embarrassed, the Chef Peking was not a place that supplied forks, not unless you asked anyway. This fear was quickly quelled as Buck manipulated the wooden sticks like a pro, far better than Standish who always fancied himself rather good at it.

"You appear to be rather proficient at that," he commented as Buck efficiently picked up some more crispy beef.

A warm smile spread over the tall man's face, his eyes twinkled that little bit more. "Worked Christmas vacations in the kitchen at a Chinese restaurant - washing up, back in Vegas, when I was a kid, free meals were part of the pay," he explained.

"Did you learn any Chinese?"

"Nah, they were all third and fourth generation. More American than me, did pick up a few cuss words but I can't remember them now. Sing Dan Fi Lor, that I do remember, not that it's a lot of use."

"And that means what?"

"Happy Christmas, see told you it wasn't much use, not yet anyway."

"Tell me something else, how does one use these," Ezra lifted his chopsticks. "…to eat one of these?" He indicated his pancake roll.

Buck smiled, he put down his own chopsticks, and reached across the table. "Ah, well there is a special technique to that, let me show you." With that he picked up the spring roll. "You use yer fingers, do not try to eat pancake roll with chopsticks, life's too short." He held it up to Ezra, who hesitated, and then closed his mouth around the proffered delicacy. As he watched those wonderfully full and sensual lips close around the thick juicy pancake role he imagined something else in Ezra's mouth, something Ezra could suck on.

Maybe Ezra had the same idea, because he held the pancake roll in his mouth a long time before he bit down, which he did with deliberate slowness. Buck reluctantly placed he remaining roll back in Ezra's bowl. He withdrew his hand and, knowing full well Ezra was watching, sucked on each greasy finger. Remembering their first meal Buck slipped off his shoe and ran one toe up Ezra's shin under the table as they ate.

The meal was almost over, Buck was eating the last of the beef in black bean sauce. Suddenly he looked up. "Ezra how did you know, I mean about me? I would have thought that given my reputation …"

Now it was Ezra who was grinning evilly. "Well it was Mr Larabee."

"He told you?" Buck asked incredulously, shocked and dismayed that Chris would betray that particular trust.

"No, no not intentionally, it was Memorial Day, he was drunk," Ezra soothed. "He let slip that I might be surprised who you would take to bed, that you were a man of wide tastes."

"Well he's right."

"It was music to my ears. Did you and he…?"

Buck looked at him sideways. "No, I would have liked it, made a move once, but he said no. I was so scared, thought my career was over, but he never mentioned it again, our relationship was the same."

"And since then?"

"A few one night stands, nothing serious, it's not that I prefer women, I enjoy both - equally, but it is safer with women, easier."

Ezra knew that was true enough, the trouble was women weren't an option as far as he was concerned.

"Ezra?" Standish lifted he eyes to lock on to those midnight pools he already loved so much. "I'd like us, this, to have a chance, I never dated a friend, someone I know, it's …"

"Yes?"

"Nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah, it feels comfortable, it feels right. It never felt this way before, not with anyone. What I'm saying it, if you wanna give it a go, so do I."

Ezra regarded the lanky man before him. For so long his desire had been based on physical attraction. Since he believed Buck was totally straight he hadn't really given much thought to what a relationship would be like. He liked Buck, always had, sure Buck was loud and crude - at times - he didn't have much of an education, just enough to get by, and showed no interest in improving that situation, 'neat and tidy' were not words you associated with Buck. But, for all that, he was loyal to a fault, so honest it was almost painful to watch, he had a heart the size of Texas and he possibly the bravest person Ezra had ever met, or would ever meet. And Buck was a compromiser, he hated conflict, always looked for the middle ground. Ezra wondered what it was like to be loved by the man, certainly there were a lot of woman around seemed to like what ever he had to offer. And while it was true they didn't stick around long, he always seemed to be on good terms with all of them.

"I think … I think we should take it slowly," he finally said, still holding Buck's eyes with his own.

"Agreed, and I want you to know, from now on, for so long as we're together, you’re the only one, no women," Buck promised.

Ezra knew that was no idle promise, Buck didn't make promises he couldn't or wouldn't keep. He also knew what a sacrifice it was, he had seen Buck when a pretty girl came into sight, he was a man for whom women were almost an addiction.

<><><><><><><>

As Ezra sat on his couch, toying with the omelette he had just made, he remembered that meal and that conversation. Every word of it, and that just made the betrayal worse. To his knowledge Buck had never betrayed anyone - except him, which made it worse.

Big, loyal, honest Buck. Ah! Who do you choose to lie to and betray? Me, that's who. And why not? Everyone else does, why should you be different? Because you should be, damn it! Because you said you wouldn't do that. Because I love you, I thought you loved me. I could almost hear the words on your lips, you were going to say it - and if you had? A lie, another damn lie, just like everyone else!

Safe behind his own walls, safe from the prying eyes of world that had betrayed him and hurt him, Ezra dropped his mask of indifference and cried out if despair, tears falling unchecked down his cheeks as sat there in a dark and empty apartment.

<><><><><><><>

Buck's apartment wasn't empty, but it might as wall have been, he could hear JD moving about downstairs, from the sound of it he was washing up. There was about three days worth of breakfast things in the sink, so it would take him a while to rinse them off and load the dishwasher. Given their collective dislike of all domestic chores the purchase of a dishwasher had become a necessity rather than a luxury. That JD was doing it silently, and voluntarily, was a sure sign he was worried about Buck. He hadn't meant to worry the kid, or anyone. If they could all see he was upset about something he was losing his touch, and that just proved how much the relationship had come to mean to him.

The first dates had been so good, he had never had someone lead him in romance, he had never left it to the other person to make the arrangements, choose the venues and pay for everything. Not that he hadn't offered to pay, but Ezra had insisted and Buck let him, knowing he could afford it easily and seeing how much pleasure it gave him. Making Ezra happy made Buck happy. After the Chinese meal they had driven back to Ezra's place so Buck could pick up his truck. That was their first real kiss, there in the parking garage under Ezra's building.

"I had a great time, thank you," Buck had whispered as they stood beside his vehicle.

"It was my pleasure, I too had a wonderful time."

Buck had repeated the gesture he had used after the concert, placing his hand on Ezra's neck, stroking his jaw with his thumb. This time Ezra relaxed into the caress more, tilting his head to gain more contact.

"Mmm, that's nice," he confessed.

"There's more."

"Show me."

With that invitation, Buck lent down and brushed his lips against Ezra's, just very gently, seeing how the younger men would react. Ezra was eager for contact, he opened his mouth that little bit more and Buck's tongue slipped in. It wasn't a deep kiss, it didn't last long, but its significance was enormous and the memory of it and the look on Ezra's face as he pulled back would live on in Buck's heart forever.

<><><><><><><>

Much as he was enjoying being wooed, Buck felt he had to do something, he had to ask Ezra out someplace, introduce Ezra to something he enjoyed. So two days after the kiss in the garage he asked Ezra if he would come fishing with him.

"Fishing?" Ezra enquired, trying not to sound horrified.

"Trust me?" Buck asked, using his version of the JD 'puppy dog look'.

Ezra had agreed - eventually.

Ezra had been fishing once before - once. A stepfather, he wasn't sure which one or whether he was an official stepfather or just an unofficial one, unofficial ones were even more temporary then the official ones, had taken him. Young Ezra, he was about nine, had fallen at the first fence - baiting the hook. His stepfather called him a wimp and refused to do it, so Ezra had spent the rest of the day sitting in the man's car while he fished. Even as Buck pulled up in front of his apartment he was steeling himself to bait a hook.

For goodness sake, Standish, small children do this all the time, get a grip man!

He had a long time to worry about it too, they drove for at least an hour then set out to hike to the river. Ezra didn’t mind too much, Buck was carrying most of the equipment, it was a nice day. However when the guide turned of the well-defined trail after about half an hour he began to worry.

"Um, Buck where are we going?" he asked as Buck led them through the woods, following no trail that Ezra could see.

"'To the river, where else?"

"Oh, what - may ask - was wrong with the trail?"

"Don't go were we're going."

"The trail post clearly said 'River'." Ezra pointed out.

"Wrong bit of river." Buck stopped and turned around. Ezra had to stop himself gasping at the sight, before him. Buck, figure hugging, faded jeans, ripped at the knee, red tee shirt, huge pack on his back, looking flushed and happy, a fine sheen of perspiration on his face, making it glow in the soft, dappled, woodland sunlight. "Trust me?"

Oh God yes, what ever you say, just don't move. "Of course, lead on MacDuff."

Buck's bit of river was worth the hike, Ezra had to admit that. It was shallow, running crystal clear over a pebble river bed, the trees lining it weren't so dense that sunlight didn't penetrate. Long shafts pushed past the lush vegetation to illuminate the river in pools of light. Ezra had been carrying the rods, Buck carried everything else. As Standish watched him unpack, his apprehension began to build, but as yet he hadn't seen a box of jolly little white maggots. Than as the last box was opened, his stomach gave a little jump, not of fear or revulsion, but joy - flies, they were going fly-fishing!

Once everything was set up Buck turned to him. "So? You ever done this?"

"No, not once, show me."

It was music to Buck's ears. "Come here, I'll show you how to cast."

Ezra found out he actually liked fly fishing, after all royalty did it, why not him? He enjoyed the mental challenge as much as the physical skills required. But what he liked most was Buck teaching him to cast. Wilmington stood behind him, arms around him, large hands covering his, their bodies pressed close together, Wilmington's warm breath on his cheek as he coached him and taught him to flick the rod back and then forward to cast fly out over the river. He revelled in the close contact, conjuring up one erotic scene after another. Whether it was these or simple incompetence, he didn't know, but his tutor had to coach him through the process many time before he got it right.

By the time they stopped for lunch - having started out very early - they were both happy, tired and hungry, even though they hadn't caught a single fish. Once the cold beef sandwiches, chips and soda - cooled in the river - had been consumed, they lay back on the soft moss covered bank for a siesta. Ezra lay at right angles to Buck, his head resting on the lanky man's stomach. He couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be.

"That first time, in the restaurant," Ezra suddenly said.

"Yes," Buck responded lazily.

"You didn't seemed surprised, when I did what I did."

"No, not really, you'd been coming on to me for a long time."

"I wasn't sure you'd noticed."

"I noticed, I didn't want to do anything, I wanted to see if you would make a move, didn't want to scare you off."

"Before I made a move, did you know, about me?"

"Know what?"

"My preferences."

"Yeah I knew."

"Oh."

"Not sure about the others, not JD, he's have said something. Chris, probably, drunk or not he doesn't let information like that just slip out."

Ezra rolled over to gaze at the man he loved, who reached out a hand and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Do we really have a chance to make this work? I mean with our jobs, the guys, the world at large?" he asked.

Buck sat up, pulled Ezra up and claimed his lips, kissing him long and deep, a passionate, sensual, erotic, claiming kiss, finally he pulled back, gazing down at a rather dazed Standish, eyes glazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

"Do you care?"

"No, I guess not … could we … could you? Again? Please?"

Buck lowered his mouth to Ezra's, running his large hand over the smaller man's powerful frame.

"God you're beautiful," Buck breathed between kisses.

"Ain't exactly ugly yourself, my love." There, he had said it, the 'L' word, it just slipped out. Evan as Buck was kissing him he was waiting for the rejection, the denial, but it never came.

They didn't fish any more that day, they talked, kissed and snuggled, but mostly they talked.

<><><><><><><>

Buck had given up pretending nothing was wrong, he was monosyllabic at breakfast, and sullen and perfunctory at work. Ezra, no less sullen, came into work, late as usual. Between dates they had e-mailed each other, at work and at home. Questions, sentiments, endearments, jokes, observations. Still desperate to find out what had gone wrong, Buck tried once more to communicate with Ezra.

TO epstandish@t7atfden.org.us FROM buckw@t7atfden.org.us PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I HAVE DONE. GIVE ME A CHANCE. BUCK XOXOXOXOX

He received no response, so he tried again.

TO epstandish@t7atfden.org.us FROM buckw@t7atfden.org.us PLEASE EZRA, I CAN'T BEAR THIS. I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE OVER. WHAT EVER IT IS I'M SORRY, SO SO SORRY. LOOK I CAN'T FIX IT IF YOU DON'T TELL ME I'M SUPPOSED TO HAVE DONE. BUCK XOXOXOXOX

Still there was no response, Standish pointedly didn't even look up to take in the pleading dark blue eyes he knew were boring into him. Finally he tried one more time.

TO epstandish@t7atfden.org.us FROM buckw@t7atfden.org.us EZRA P STANDISH DO YOU NOT KNOW I LOVE YOU. BUCK XOXOXOXOXOX

This got a response, Ezra raised his head from his desk and looked at Buck. There was a question in his eyes, it said, Do you mean that? The response to his unspoken question was a slow nod of the head, then after what seemed like an age, but was only a second or two, Ezra's head dropped back down.

TO buckw@t7atfden.org.us FROM epstandish@t7atf.org.us HOW CAN I BELIEVE YOU AFTER YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME SO? EZRA

TO epstandish@t7atfden.org.us FROM buckw@t7atfden.org.us ME BETRAY YOU? WHEN? HOW? I'M NOT A FUCKING MIND READER YOU KNOW? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. BUCK

Ezra looked up. He did want to give him a chance, he really did, Wilmington looked genuinely confused and angry. If Buck wanted to continue to deny the truth, well he would just present him with the evidence. Ezra wasn't going to make a scene in the office, this would be resolved - one way or another - in private.

<><><><><><><>

"What is up with those two?" Josiah asked Chris as the two of them stood in Chris' office doorway.

"Not sure, what are they doing anyway?"

"E-mailing each other."

"About?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"You’re the one with the psychology degree. Did you find out anything about Agent Parker?"

Josiah looked sideways at his boss. "That man is possibly the most boring person I ever researched, do you know what is speciality is?"

Chris shook his head.

"Photography."

"Oh the excitement," Chris quipped. "Is there some way we can find out what they're talking to each other about?"

Sanchez looked back at the two men in question. "Technically, morally or legally?"

"All three."

"Probably, no, yes."

"So we are assuming their black moods are connected?" Chris asked.

"I would say so, yes. Maybe Buck breaking up with his latest girlfriend has something to do with Ezra?"

Chris raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Ezra? A girl?"

"Well maybe not. I suppose it is a girl Buck's been seeing, I mean it couldn't … they couldn't be - could they?"

That scenario hadn't occurred to Chris, thought why he wasn't sure, it wasn't like he didn't know about Buck's tastes.

"Well that … that is a possibility, well, well, well, looks like the course of true love isn't running so smooth."

"What do you want to do about it - boss?"

Chris wasn't entirely sure. "Give them until after the weekend, if they haven't worked it out by then, you and I will knock some heads together." That said he turned back to look at the older man. "So are you coming out to the ranch tonight?

"You know I am. Have you been a good boy?"

"I think so."

"Well, we will have to see what kind of treat I can come up with as a reward, won't I." With that he gave Chris a playful tap on his tight jean clad butt as he walked passed him and into the office. Suddenly he looked back. "Did you and Buck ever…?" he asked.

Chris smiled at his lover. "Nope, he offered, I said no, then I met Sarah, it never came up again - I have to admit I have often wondered what would have happened, but I was scared and we were partners, so I said no."

Continue

Comments