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A Day Like Many Days

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Darien parked outside Bobby's house and got out of the car, taking an extra moment to lock it up, mostly just to let the anticipation build up a bit more. Sometimes a dinner invitation was just a dinner invitation -- but lately sometimes it was more, even sometimes when they didn't have a burst of case-related adrenaline to burn off.

He walked up to the front door, buzzing a bit off the fluttering in his stomach, not knowing which way tonight was going to go but knowing it would be fun whether it was just food and a game on tv, or food and a more hands-on kinda game. He gave a perfunctory knock and walked in, the scents of fresh bread and pot roast welcoming him a second before Bobby's shouted, "Fawkes? That you?"

"It's me," he agreed, making his way to the kitchen. "Jeez, Hobbes, that smells amazing." He inhaled deeply, quicksilvering his hand to pilfer a warm roll out of the basket on the counter.

Hobbes smacked his hand. "You think I don't know your ways?" he asked. "You can wait five minutes. Go set the table or something, make yourself useful."

Darien grinned unrepentantly, shaking the quicksilver off and grabbing plates out of the dishes cabinet and moving toward the table. "So what's the occasion?" he asked, as he set their places.

"What, I need an occasion to cook a pot roast? We can't just eat because we're hungry?" But he was smiling as he said it, transferring the roast to a carving board.

"Hey, I'm good with any reason for eating," Darien said cheerfully, "especially if you're cooking it. You just tell me when and where to show up, my friend."

Bobby's cheeks went a little pink with pleased embarrassment. "Okay, for that you can have a roll," he said, tossing one at Darien, who caught it with a grin.

Darien tucked himself into a corner of the kitchen to eat it, watching Bobby put the finishing touches on the meal, slicing the meat onto a platter and spooning the vegetables into a serving dish. There was a bottle of wine breathing on the counter; Darien poured them each a glass while Bobby carried the food out to the table.

As they settled into their chairs, Bobby raised his glass, face turning serious. "Listen, I wanted to say -- I'm glad you're my partner, Fawkes. Best partner I ever had. Means a lot to me, having you around, you know, in my life. And stuff."

Darien blinked, his breath catching in his throat. "Hobbes -- Bobby." He raised his own glass and clinked it gently against Bobby's. "Me too, man. To partners."

Bobby held his gaze and beamed at him. "To partners."

The moment stretched, until Darien had no idea what direction things were going to go and just wanted to leap in whatever direction it was, bright fizzy tension thrumming along all his nerves.

Bobby smiled, looking very pleased with himself, and threw another roll at him. "Eat! I didn't do all this work so you could sit there letting it go cold."

"Me!" Darien said indignantly, let down and relieved at the same time, and glad to have something normal to fall back on while he got his balance back.

Bobby cut into his pot roast, smirking.


The tension didn't really go away, just settled into a quieter hum as their more usual routine swung back into gear. It spiked back up every time Bobby brushed against him, or his voice dropped into that register for a moment, or Darien met his eyes to share a joke to find Bobby's eyes looking at him with completely different intent. Every spike was higher; every time the tension banked down again, it was at a hotter glow, a stronger hum.

By the time it was time to clear the table, Darien was practically vibrating. "Hobbes --"

"What?" Bobby asked. "Hand me that dish soap, wouldja?"

"Are you seriously going to stand there and do dishes at me?"

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him, hands plunging into sudsy water. "Well, you could help, you know." He tilted his head toward a drawer. "Clean towels in there, if you want to start drying." His voice was completely casual, but his eyes were dancing with wicked glee.

Darien debated playing along to see how far Bobby was willing to take this "there's nothing happening here" thing, but really, he'd only be hurting himself if he did. Right?

"Bobby," he said instead, stepping forward into Bobby's personal space and then some, crowding him against the counter.

Bobby grunted. "Fawkes? Little close, there, aren't'cha?"

Darien bit him on the ear. "Not close enough," he breathed, grinning as Bobby twitched, hard.

"Well, uh. Maybe the dishes can wait."

"Y'think?" Darien slid his hands down Bobby's arms and into the hot water, pulling the sponge out of his unresisting fingers.

"Yeah, I mean, probably be better if they soak first, anyway."

"Probably," Darien agreed, nuzzling into Bobby's neck. It wasn't often he got the upper hand like this, and he licked a long, slow trail along Bobby's jaw in appreciation.

Which of course was when he lost the upper hand, Bobby taking advantage of his moment of distraction to do some sort of shimmy and turn and surge that had them both heading straight for the bedroom, Darien basically putty in Bobby's hands. He couldn't let it go without at least a token protest, though. A man has his pride. "Not that I'm objecting, you understand --" okay, yes, pride, but that didn't mean stupidity or ruining his chances here "-- but I was having a real good time in the kitchen, myself."

"Didn't want to get dishpan hands," Bobby said earnestly, using his un-pruny fingers to start sliding Darien out of his shirt. "Gotta have pretty hands for my boy, right?"

"You've got gorgeous hands," Darien said fervently, as Bobby raked his fingernails lightly across Darien's bare chest.

"You think I don't know this?" Bobby said, grinning. He gave a little push to tumble Darien back on the bed, then went to work on his belt buckle while Darien toed frantically out of his sneakers. They'd forgotten the shoes the first time in their haste, relief swamping reason after a case that got a little too dangerous, and it had taken way too long for the bruises to fade when Darien tripped them both in the bathroom they were fumbling around in.

"Shoes," Bobby said, right on cue.

"Got 'em, I got 'em -- get yours."

Bobby poked him with a bare toe. "Already done."

Darien raised an eyebrow at him. "Multi-tasker, huh?"

"Bobby Hobbes is a talented man, my friend."

"That he is," Darien agreed. "But he's a little overdressed for the occasion."

Bobby finished tugging Darien's clothes off and stepped back to admire his handiwork, eyes hot and hungry, then reached for his own shirt, stripping off with efficient economy.

Darien stretched and preened a bit under the attention, already half-hard, biting his lip a little as Bobby stripped. It couldn't be called a striptease by any stretch of the imagination, but it was hot as hell, watching that compact, muscular body emerge, and all for him.


They knew each other pretty well by this point and moved easily together, hands and mouths and skin sparking off each other, the inevitable quicksilvering a bright, icy contrast to the heat they were generating. Usually they both got a little impatient and kept things going pretty fast, but this time Hobbes was in a differnt mood, back to teasing a bit and slowing things down.

Darien tried pushing for more, faster, a few times, but Hobbes stopped him every time, kissing him senseless or stroking him in long, soothing sweeps along whatever was still visible of his back and sides and murmuring, "easy, easy, I gotcha," until Darien eased up a bit again. Then Hobbes would start all over, ramping him up and leveling him off until Darien was desperate.

Finally Bobby straddled his hips, sliding back till his ass brushed Darien's ready cock, shivering happily at the icy sensation of quicksilver against heated skin. "That's it, that's it," he chanted.

"You ready?" Darien asked, breathless with need by now.

Bobby grinned tightly at him. "Do me," he said throatily.

Darien grinned back, reaching around to cup Bobby's ass, letting quicksilver pour out over him and shifting them both into a higher spectrum. They'd learned the hard way that it was better to have pretty much the same body temp when it came to the delicate bits, but he'd probably do this anyway, just for the delight Bobby took in being quicksilvered.

Once it was safe, Darien tightened his grip and started to push forward.

"Easy, tiger," Bobby said, grinning. "I gotcha." He eased back and down until Darien was completely inside, gasping a little at the sensation. "I love this," Bobby said happily, squeezing a bit.

"I would never have guessed," Darien said, gasping back at the thrum of sheer pleasure.

"Wise guy," Bobby said. "You love this, too." He started moving, lifting up and pushing down again, setting up Darien's favorite rhythm.

"I do," Darien agreed, fingers clenching on Bobby's hips. "I really do."

"'Course you do," Bobby said smugly. "Ain't no one better than Bobby Hobbes."

Darien made an incoherent noise of agreement as Bobby focused all his attention on him, pulling him higher and higher until he lost track of everything but the sensations pounding through him, and the bright burning pillar of Bobby at the center of it all.

He came in a long, shuddering jolt, totally surrounded by Bobby -- ass, voice, hands, you name it, Bobby was cradling every bit of him, urging him on with a strange tenderness, not like their usual playful competition. Darien melted into it, part of him thinking "danger, danger" but most of him telling that part to fuck off, thank you very much; this was where he was supposed to be. This felt so damn right.

"Holy crap," he said finally, when he could talk again.

"Damn straight," Bobby said smugly.

"Give me a sec, okay, and it's your turn."

"Don't worry about me, I'm good." Bobby patted his groin as he eased away from Darien, reaching for a towel to mop them both up. "You're pretty damn hot when you let go like that."

"Yeah?" Darien asked, pleased.

"Yeah, but don't let it go to your head. I'm just naturally a sexy guy."

"This is very true," Darien agreed, stretching lazily, smiling at the delight that sparked in Bobby's eyes.

They settled in under the covers, spooning up in Hobbes's favorite position. Darien drifted drowsily, warm and relaxed with Bobby's arm draped loosely across his middle, and slowly the day took a different shape in his head as he added things up. "Hey, Bobby?"


"I'm sorry." He could feel Bobby carefully not tensing up.

"Yeah? For what?" Bobby asked neutrally.

Darien threaded their fingers together on his chest. "I should've brought flowers or something. I didn't realize what day it was."

Bobby's not-tense muscles relaxed and his fingers tightened on Darien's. "Happy anniversary, partner," he said, smiling against Darien's neck.

"Happy anniversary, partner," Darien said softly, squeezing back.