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Michael closed the door behind him surreptitiously, and Peter did his best to look busy.

"Peter... we've worked together for quite a long time now, haven't we?"

"Go throw yourself at Amanda's feet. I know better than to lend you money."

Michael looked hurt but continued the speech. "...And we've helped each other through some rough times. I mean" - he paused for drama - "What I'm trying to say is that I trust you, Peter. And I've always thought of you as a friend."

"Yeah. Now, you see, I'm running a hospital and that means I'm a busy man. So if you don't mind..."

"Peter, I need your semen."

"What?"

Michael sat down on the corner of Peter's desk, earnest expression turned on full. "We have this patient - a couple, actually, Mr and Mrs Ahlman - being treated for infertility, and I don't want to have to tell them he's sterile."

"Why do you care? You aren't even a gynecologist - wait, don't tell me. You slept with her."

"No, I didn't!"

"Well, then what do you need me for? Just grab a cup and go lock yourself in the bathroom!"

"I don't want a baby!"

Frow now on Peter was going to keep a loaded gun in his desk for occasions like this one, and to hell with the hippocratic oath. He closed his eyes.

"Michael, we've known each other for a long time, as you said. So I'm going to count to three -"

Michael kissed him, his lips as eager as his expression had been. It only lasted a moment, but there was a warm, dropping feeling, surprising but very real. He smelled familiar.

"Is that my cologne you're wearing?" Peter asked, absently.

"It's Armani. Lexi gave it to me."

"Bitch."

"That's not very nice." Michael leaned in for another kiss, but Peter pushed him backwards and he slid off the desk.

"What the hell is this about? First you come in and say you want my sperm, then you -"

"Oh, well, I'm sorry if I didn't think to bring you any roses." Michael climbed to his feet and made for the door, but Peter leapt out of his chair and reached it first.

"No. You're not leaving until you tell me what you're trying to do and who put you up to it."

Michael stepped back, looking sullen. "I guess I scared you."

Peter ignored the insult this was intended as. "Yeah, you did, and you'd better have a good explanation. No, it doesn't have to be good, but tell me the truth or it's your job. Who told you to do this?"

"I already told you -"

"Dr Mancini!"

"I was afraid you wouldn't believe me, Peter, but... there is no Mrs Ahlman; I made that part up." Well, there was a surprise. "But the part about trusting you was true. I mean that." The sincere expression was back. Time to test it.

Holding his gaze, Peter slowly reached out and cupped a hand behind the other man's head. Then he leaned in and kissed him as he'd kiss Amanda, pulled softly at his lips. As he'd expected, Michael stiffened in surprise - then pressed closer, kissing him back. But there was that feeling again in the pit of his stomach, warm and thirsty, and he stopped thinking about Amanda.

"So this was your plan?" His voice came out in a ragged whisper, which was just as well since they were leaning against his office door. Michael denied it, chuckling.

Another kiss just because Peter liked the way it felt, the way it tasted. Michael's hand was on his thigh, then slid upwards along his dick, which was getting as hard as - oh, shit - as Michael's was against his leg. Of all the guys he could have... but what the hell.

- - -

"So you want me to believe you've been in love with me all along?"

"No, no, no, don't get the wrong idea. I mean, we've always been friends -"

Peter groaned at this untruth, but couldn't muster the energy to be really irritated.

"We're friends now, anyway," Michael amended his statement. "And you're a good-looking guy... I guess I was just curious."

"Not to mention that my desk is bigger than yours."

"Well, that too."