A Time And A Place For Us
Disclaimer: I don't own them, or the show they rode in on. I wrote this for fun, and no profit is made from it.
Archive: Starwinder's, You Want Fries With That?, and The All-Ezra Fan Fic Archive --- all others, please ask.
Summary: Chris apologizes for being distracted.
Warnings: Same sex lovin' - nothing too flagrant, and strong language abounds.
Category: Stand alone
Completed: September 2001
Feedback: firstname.lastname@example.org welcomes comments
"Not now, Ezra." Chris Larabee shook his head irritably, his movements harried with the pressure DA Travis had been putting on him this morning. Damn man wants miracles and just because Team 7 had come up with the occasional sleight of hand in the past, usually thanks to the prestidigitation of their undercover agent, didn't mean it could happen to order. No one was that good, not even his boys. Not even his Ezra. He didn't notice as the diminutive man in question faded quietly back out of his office, shutting the door soundlessly behind him.
'Not now.' I have been hearing that a bit too often lately, Ezra thought pensively. His down-swinging mood hidden behind his downcast eyes, he avoided contact with any of his teammates as he glided back to his own little kingdom, 'a cubbie by the sea' as he liked to think of it…after all, he often felt adrift in the strangely familial atmosphere of his comrades. His own magic dragon, Christopher Adam Larabee, was what kept him here this long year of exile in Denver.
The dragon's breath had first burnt, then warmed him during his early days with the team. He flashed a swiftly hidden grin at the thought of anyone knowing his private nickname for their team leader. Taming a dragon could take a long time, but eschewing that for a perfect truce had seemed a much wiser course of action. A truce sealed with a kiss, well, multiple kisses. He smiled again, down into his collar as he switched on his computer's Internet connection. Hundreds of… thousands, millions, billions of kisses. Must be by now. Kisses with all the trimmings. That little thought nearly brought him up out of his seat twitching at his pant legs, his rod straight and hard against the zipper seam of his trousers. He swallowed, then tugged the retractable keyboard shelf further over his lap and curled his fingers on to the home row. Like to curl them around something else right now, he mused. He licked his lips as his eyelids hooded and he stroked the smooth, rounded sleek form of the mouse, elegant fingers aching to touch something more resonant, more responsive. Harder and softer at the same velvet time.
The expletive nearly undid Ezra, his sudden jerk in response shoving the keyboard away and neatly trapping his left hand in the narrow space between the keyboard and the overhanging desktop.
The door to his cubicle shuddered as it slammed shut and he could swear his ears popped with the sudden change of pressure. Stunned into immobility, he stared at his trapped hand, his free one clutching the electronic mouse with a near crunching grasp. He turned glassy eyes on his intruding dragon.
Chris Larabee had tidied his workspace, mentally consigning Travis and his wish list to the devil for the time being. With a groan, he realized he'd sent his lover off with a casual, easy to misinterpret, rebuff. And, if there was one person he knew who did not handle rebuffs well, it was his lover. Damn man was too sensitive for his own good, and contrary enough to provoke a constant bombardment of unintentional barbs no matter how carefully Chris tried to monitor himself. Dammit all anyway. He's probably gone off and is licking his newest wounds right now.
Need to talk with him. Need time to talk with him. A place to talk with him. Be with him. Now.
Erupting from his office with a determined stalk, Chris Larabee headed directly toward his lover's cubicle. The other men scattered around the common room and standing in the break room silently watched their boss' progress. Knowing looks were exchanged.
Buck tipped back in his overlarge office chair, casually locking his hands behind his head as he whistled soundlessly toward the ceiling, eyes alight with merriment. JD leaned over and dropped a large tech manual on his roommate's extended stomach, unable to resist the temptation, even as he watched Larabee make a beeline for Ezra's door. Buck's "oof" didn't distract him or anyone else from grinning as Chris ducked into the doorway, slamming the door behind him.
Nathan shook his head in amusement and tossed a coin into Vin's waiting hand. Vin caught it and dropped it into a large glass pickle jar at his workspace. He patted the jar ostentatiously, wriggling his eyebrows back at Nathan, a quirky smile playing on his lips. Nathan simply batted a hand at the silent teasing and reached out a hand for the telephone in front of him. Now would be a good time to call Rain.
Josiah, holding his overfull mug of coffee carefully at the break room doorway, decided they probably all had about an hour or more of unexpected leisure ahead of them. He could finish the next chapter in that Margaret Meade book he'd been immersed in last night. Yes, an unsupervised hour was like a bonus break. While the cat's away… or otherwise engaged… He smiled into his cup.
Chris moved fast, the need to derail any hurt feelings, keep his lover happy foremost in his mind. There'd been too little time for happiness, for togetherness of late. The sight that was revealed, though, as he rounded the edge of the doorjamb nearly undid him. Ezra was sitting at his desk, damn near making love to the fuckin' computer. Chris could see the sensual sprawl of legs beneath the desk, the bulge not quite hidden by the keyboard, one hand stroking the mouse, like those magical fingers had touched him last night, the other hand's fingers echoing the shape of him above the a-s-d-f as the thumb gently slid along the space bar. Oh gawd. He couldn't contain himself, the man was walking erotica!
"Shit!" His growl, along with the slamming door, had Ezra jumping in alarm.
And then Ezra was bashing himself against his hardwood desk, trapping one elegant hand and damn near breaking it from the looks of things. Chris leapt forward to free Ezra from his entanglement, removing the hapless mouse from the suddenly destructive hold as well.
"Ezra, are you alright?" By this time Chris was on one knee beside his lover, both of the man's hands cupped gently in his. He leaned down to kiss the trembling fingers, then steal a look up through ragged blond lashes at his dearest heart. Green eyes blinked in open astonishment, remnants of the erotic daydreaming still muting their color. "I'm sorry I startled you, sweetheart."
Ezra cocked his head to better align himself with the worried face of his own sweet lover - when that door had shut, the 'boss' had been left outside. That was always understood. "Chris." He smiled lovingly and hunched forward to capture tense lips and nibble them fondly. "I'm really not made of porcelain, honest."
"Your hand…" Chris began doubtfully.
"Is fine. I am fine." A saucy wink. "Especially now."
Chris sighed and lowered his head, resting his cheek against the delicate fingers, so precious, held in his own hands. "I'm sorry about before. About the 'not now,' you know how much I need you - always. You do, don't you?"
Those skillful digits pressed his tightly before releasing them and driving through his blond locks. "Yes. As I need you in order to breathe, to see, to exist." A kiss on his temple brought Chris' head back up. "You don't have to apologize, though I do like seeing you here like this." A devilish gleam lit those green lantern eyes that grew and ensnared their target. "On one knee before me."
"What'er you implyin', Ez?"
"Why Mr. Larabee…" A quick shake of his arms by the powerful hands now gripping them at the elbows, and Ezra flashed a brilliant smile, "Ah… 'Chris,' what could I mean? Is that not the correct posture and positioning for a proposal of a certain type?"
For a full minute, there was absolute silence in the small office. A time and a place for us, thought the blond, his heart thudding painfully. Chris Larabee stared into the bright green eyes of his undercover agent. Ezra Standish fixed unwaveringly upon the sharp hazel eyes of his team leader, his boss.
"Ezra P. Standish," Chris whispered, "Will you marry me?" There was no amusement in the tone, only quiet solemnity. An almost frozen sincerity that changed the atmosphere from teasing to tense, anticipation glittered in those greenish-brown depths and was answered with a blossoming joy in the green eyes that met them.
"Yes." After all, what else could he say to his dragon?
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