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Killing Time

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He's not even sure where they are; a long way from the OSC and home, that's for sure, and as far as Rivers can tell, they're a long way from any kind of civilization. And he knows desolation kind of goes with the territory in their line of work – it's a lot easier to dump a body or commit a ritual murder without an audience, after all – but right now he wishes their guy had chosen a spot a little closer to home.

It's already been a really long day of chasing dead-end leads, playing nice with the local cops and all he wants to do is go home and forget about the case for awhile. Maybe invite Creegan over for a drink, even if it means talking about work for awhile. And if he's lucky, Creegan won't even bring up work. Or, if he's really lucky, there won't be any talking at all.

He can count the number of nights Creegan's spent in his bed on one hand, but it's enough to keep him hoping for more. Enough to make him pretty sure Creegan would've said yes when Rivers invited him home. Only now they're stuck out in the middle of nowhere for God only knows how long, and all because the OSC can't keep their cars in decent shape.

"Are you sure the spare's flat?" he asks, even though he's reasonably sure Creegan wouldn't make up something like that just to strand them in the middle of nowhere. Then again, this is Creegan, and sometimes he gets pretty weird ideas in his head.

"Pretty sure, yeah," Creegan answers as he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket. "Is it raining?"

And that's just great, because it is raining, fat drops falling faster and faster out of the sky. By the time they scramble back into the car the windshield's wet and blurry and Rivers lets out a heavy sigh as he listens to Creegan talking to…someone back at the office.

"They're sending a car to pick us up," Creegan says when he hangs up, voice way too cheerful and Rivers scowls at him.

"Great. So we're just stuck out here for…what, hours?"

"Hour and a half, tops," Creegan answers, still grinning and Rivers remembers now why they didn't get along when he first joined the OSC. That smug grin got under his skin the first day, and even though he's used to it now, sometimes he still wants to smack Creegan. "Hank offered to find a mechanic around here to come out and try to patch the flat, but I told him we could entertain ourselves for a couple hours."

He leans forward as he says it, fingers just brushing Rivers' jacket along the seam of his shoulder, and that's as close to a come-on as Creegan ever gets. Well, unless he's drunk, because alcohol really does make him a little violent, and this all started with Creegan shoving him up against a wall and kissing him until he couldn't breathe. The memory makes Rivers wish he had some whiskey on him, because it's a pain in the ass to be the one to make the first move all the time, but he knows now that Creegan's worth it.

He's exasperating and sometimes - okay, often - confusing, but he's definitely worth it.

"You want me to call him back?" Creegan asks, grin fading to that clueless expression that most people think is cute, but Rivers never falls for it.

"Don't bother," Rivers answers, reaching out to grip the front of Creegan's shirt and pull him forward. "I'm sure we can think of something to do."

And it's not drinks in his apartment, but it's him and Creegan with no interruptions, so he's not complaining.