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Wes slid the money across the counter and moved to the far end to wait for his drinks to arrive. He wasn’t in the habit of bringing things to Travis without having first been asked, but for some odd reason, today he felt the urge to be nice. The young barista, a bright-eyed blonde, smiled as she called his name, handing over his drinks.
“Two brewed coffees for one Detective Mitchell,” she said, giving him a flirty wink.
“Yeah, thanks.” He offered her an awkward smile and took the drinks, leaving her and her high hopes behind him.
Wes really wished he could take her flirtations more seriously, even flirt back a bit, but the longer he found himself partnered with Travis, the harder that became. It made him want to punch something – hard – when he realized that that egotistical lothario had worked his way under his own very particular skin.
The Casanova in question met Wes on the steps leading into the station. “Good morning, buttercup,” he chirped, happy as ever. “Please tell me you’re not double-fisting it this morning and that one of those glorious smelling coffees is for me?”
It took everything in Wes’ power to not blush at the double entendre, no matter how unintentional it might have been. Be that as it may, he had to admit, that even if he had bought them both for himself, he’d have handed one over after one look at the longing etched on Marks’ face. “Yes, of course one is for you, idiot. I don’t ever drink this much coffee in one sitting.” Scotch, on the other hand… well, he’d taken to drinking more and more of that as of late. But that was neither here nor there at the moment.
Travis took the cup he held in his left hand, lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Have I told you lately that I love you, Wes? Because I do. Say you’ll marry me.”
Narrowly escaping choking on the scalding coffee, Wes swallowed. “What did you say?”
“Just proposing since you’re so good to me, sweetheart.” Travis winked and headed for the station doors. “Since I’m thinking that’s a ‘no’, let’s go. We’ve got work to do, Mitchell. Time’s a-wasting.”
He watched his partner enter the building and allowed the door to float closed behind him. What on earth had just happened? Although he was a very private person, there wasn’t much in his life that he felt Travis could use against him. His feelings for Travis, on the other hand, those were strictly off-limits to everyone outside of himself. Those were something that never, ever needed to be shared.
Not even with the object of his affection.
Whether it had been his initial stunned reaction to Travis’ first proposal or not, Marks had taken to making a game of proposing to him at odd and awkward times. It made Wes equal parts furious and weak in the knees every time he slipped one of those offhanded offers of marriage into a conversation.
One afternoon, several weeks later, while they were standing in line ordering their lunch. Travis, predictably, was a buck and a half short of making his bill, so Wes offered to pay for both their lunches, instead of trying to scrounge the change in his pocket. Granted, it would have been a simple matter to find two singles and hand them over, but it made him feel good to do these little things for his partner, even if his companion was unaware of his true motives.
“Aw,” Travis had said, slinging an arm across his shoulders. “You’re so sweet, Wes.”
He could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck, embarrassment and torturous pleasure blazing a trail along his delicate skin. As much as he wanted to play the compliment off like it wasn’t a big deal, the urge to lead Travis on and get him to sling another his way was nearly overpowering. “It’s what partners do,” he’d said instead. “Or, what they would do if they ever carried more than four dollars and twenty-three cents on their person at any given time.”
“See,” Travis said, frowning, “this is why we can’t get married.”
“What?” Wes’ heart skipped a beat, his chest constricting with Marks’ declaration. “Why not?”
“Aside from the fact you turned me down when I asked?” He stuck his lower lip out as he shook his head. “We can’t get married because you give me no respect. Although…”
This conversation was going to give him an ulcer if Travis didn’t come out with it sooner or later. “Although what?”
Travis shrugged, a smirk forming on that perfect mouth of his. “Although, I’d still do it if you only said yes.”
“Fat chance of that, Marks. Now get your food and go sit down.”
Wes was half relieved and half disappointed when Travis did exactly what he’d been told. Disappointed because he’d been left standing there alone, but relieved that Marks had taken the opportunity to humiliate himself away before he could act on it. He was well and truly fucked. But honestly? He didn’t give a damn. If he was going down, he was going down in flames.
Wes spent the next several months in perpetual agony. Every time Travis casually proposed, it tore at him. The only thing that kept him from blurting out a loud ‘yes’ was the realization that Travis wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be.
Despite that knowledge, he still dreamed that one day, Marks would ask him and mean it. Although, a marriage proposal was a little farfetched, particularly when you considered exactly who he was partnered with. So, he decided to meet Travis halfway and pray for a date. There was plenty of time left for marriage, right?
If he were honest with himself, he didn’t know Travis well enough to marry him, no matter how much those four words made his heart pound. But the thought of waking up beside that gorgeous pain in the ass every morning was a tempting offer in itself. One he found nearly impossible to resist.
It was dishonest and it was underhanded, but the way Travis’ words made him feel only encouraged his bad behavior. The more Marks offered up the rest of his life, the more Wes did to hear those words roll off his partner’s luscious lips. Wes knew he was playing a dangerous game with his own heart, but he couldn’t be bothered enough to care.
As the days went on, every chance he got, he did something nice for Travis. Picked up a donut to go with his coffee. Finished his paperwork for him. Any little thing that turned those dreamy baby blues on him in gratitude. He was slowly killing his resolve without even knowing it.
“Baby, you got a minute?” Travis pale eyes were locked onto his face, watching.
“What have I told you about calling me that?” They’d had that discussion more than a few times of late. It didn’t help that it was exactly what Travis called him in his dreams. As he was seducing him.
“Sorry, man,” Travis apologized in that not-so apologetic way of his. “I need to get out of here on time for a change this afternoon and…”
Wes listened as he trailed off, hoping that Travis would say the words that he knew were coming. Make him ask for a change, instead of leaping to Marks’ rescue, accepting the unspoken request. As the silence stretched on, he knew Travis wasn’t going to offer them up, that he was being expected to put two and two together and figure it out. “You want to leave early.”
“Correction: I need to.”
“Uh-huh,” Wes snorted. “What’s her name this time?”
“Man, it’s not like that,” Travis protested.
His denial was like a twist of the knife already sticking out of Wes’ chest. “Whatever, Travis. Go.”
“You’re the best,” he declared, launching himself out of his chair and across Wes’ desk. Gripping two pale cheeks in between his large, dark hands, he pressed his mouth against Wes’ for a brief moment, releasing Wes’ lips with a loud smack. Grinning, he patted his partner’s cheek. “I love you, Wes. Marry me now before I go crazy.”
The knife twisted again, jabbing at his heart. The agony of hearing that request over and over had taken its toll. Frustrated and just a bit hurt, he responded with the first words that came to his mind. Words he’d come to regret, he supposed. But it was too late for that now.
“Okay, fine Travis. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. Are you happy now?” He pushed back from his partner’s all too close body and rolled his chair backwards, almost ramming into the detective seated behind him. “You’ve only asked me fifty-four times over the last six months so yes. Do I need to pick out a dress or will you let me retain at least a shred of my dignity and allow me to wear a suit?”
Travis watched him, a curious expression lighting his face. Wes tore his eyes off Marks’ perfect face and looked around him, noticing for the first time exactly how full the robbery homicide squad room was. Panic rose in his chest as he spied not just the captain – Sutton would understand once he explained it to him, he was more than a little used to their antics at this point – but Kate and Amy, Kendall, and a million other cops surrounding them, glued to the show going on right before them. Even the medical examiner, Jonelle, was present for his utter disgrace.
“I can’t,” he began, stopping and trying again. “Go home, Travis. Enjoy your date or whatever you have planned for tonight. I have – I have a suspect to visit.”
Wes fled the building like the devil himself was on his heels. So absorbed in his own embarrassment, he didn’t even hear Travis stand and follow him out. He was fumbling, attempting to get his key fob to open the door when he felt a firm, yet familiar hand on his shoulder.
“Wes man, relax,” Travis’ honeyed voice soothed. “What’s gotten into you suddenly?”
Resting the palms of both hands on his car door, he steadied himself, breathing deeply, praying for strength. “Nothing, Marks. Now go do whatever you need to do.”
“What I need to do,” he said, forcing Wes to turn and face him, “is make sure you’re okay.”
“Well, I’m not okay, Travis,” he spat. “I’ve not been okay for a very long time.” He tried to turn back towards the car, but Travis’ strong hands kept him where he was.
“Why not? What’s changed?”
“You changed,” he said, deflecting his own irrational feelings onto his partner.
“Me? What did I do?” His face was serious, his eyes worried.
“You asked me to marry you, Marks.” He shook his head. “Repeatedly.”
“I was kidding you. You know, like when someone brings you a drink when you’re dying of thirst and you say, ‘I love you man, thank you’. It’s the same thing.”
“But it’s not, Travis.” Not when I’m in love with you. “Not when you flash that adorable smile and fix those vortex-inducing blue eyes on me. You manipulate me and play with my emotions.”
Travis opened his mouth, ready to deny every word of it, and then shut it abruptly. “Dude, are you trying to tell me something?”
Wes could feel the embarrassment rising from the pit of his stomach. The flush was soon to follow and he needed to get away from his partner before his body betrayed him. He was unsure of what to say, so he decided to play dumb. “What are you talking about, Marks?”
The grin he’d warned himself not to fall for appeared magically on Travis’ face then. Wes knew this wasn’t a good thing, because it meant that Marks was up to something and he didn’t like that at all. And when his eyes lit up with playful mischief, he knew he was done for.
“You’ve got the hots for me, don’t you?” Travis’ tone was teasing, proving what he knew to be true. “It all makes sense now,” he laughed.
“I do not,” he lied, again attempting to get out of Travis’ hold and into his car. “And I have no idea what is suddenly making sense but –”
“But every time I’ve jokingly asked you to marry me you’ve either gotten flustered, angry, or simply ignored me. I know you don’t know much about these kinds of things,” Travis said, grin widening even more than before, “but in my experience, that kind of reaction means embarrassment.”
“So what?” Wes pushed against Travis’ chest, unable to budge the larger man.
“So, that kind of embarrassment usually means you have feelings for the one teasing you.”
He sounded like he spoke from experience and that worried Wes more than anything else had all day. “Please let me go, Travis. I thought you had somewhere to be anyway.”
“I do,” he said, relaxing his grip on Wes’ arms slightly. “I promised one of my foster sisters I’d go with her to buy a new car. She’s worried about getting taken by the dealer.”
Wes chuckled. “So, she’s bringing along a cop. Smart girl.”
Travis smiled. “That she is. So now talk to me. What is going on with you today?”
Feeling the fight go out of him, Wes slumped back against the car. “I was okay,” he began, voice shaking more than he liked, “until you kissed me.” He couldn’t believe he was saying this, but now that he started, he couldn’t stop. “I’ve been fighting these feelings for months, wanting to be with you, to be near you…” Wes shook his head, unable to continue.
“And?” Travis brushed Wes’ blond hair back from his face, looking into his face, searching.
“And I was doing okay fighting these emotions, keeping them under control. Your teasing made me crazy,” he admitted with a self-deprecating laugh, “but I managed to deal with it.”
“Then I went and kissed you a few minutes ago,” Travis said, figuring it out finally.
“Right. Words I can handle, I have had to work around name calling, insults, and worse as a lawyer, but…”
“But the physical proof of attraction was too much for you.”
He’d hit the nail on the head. Travis didn’t use his intellect as often as he should, but his gut was always right on the money. “Yeah. I know that ninety-nine percent of what comes out of your mouth is bullshit, but that kiss… it was proof of what I’d been hoping for, even though it isn’t. Not really.”
“What do you mean it was proof but not really?” Travis wound a lock of corn silk around a finger.
Wes sighed. “A kiss is proof of affection, unless it’s coming from someone like you, Travis. You never stay with a woman long enough to commit. I’d be an idiot to assume that a kiss – especially a kiss received after I gave you exactly what you wanted – meant anything.” He closed his eyes, trying to steady his rabbiting heart.
“You’d be wrong,” Travis said, his words no more than a sigh on the breeze.
Before Wes could respond, Travis repeated his earlier move, taking care to move slowly. The soft press of his lips was like a taste of heaven, sweet and ethereal. He melted into the curve of his partner’s strong frame, not wanting the moment to end. Reluctantly, he put a hand to the swell of one pectoral. Travis took the subtle hint and stepped back, breaking their kiss, ending their instant in time.
“How wrong am I,” he asked, pointedly looking at Travis’ hands, focusing on the one resting lightly on his own hip.
“Very,” he replied. “And if I weren’t already late to meet my sister, I’d prove it to you.”
Wes nodded, sadness and disappointment overcoming him. “Understood. I should go talk to our suspect now.”
“Wait,” Travis stopped him. “I have a better idea. Come along with me. Two cops are better than one, right?”
A small, uneasy smile curled the corner of Wes’ mouth. “Right. And I love nothing more than making jackasses feel uncomfortable.”
“Perfect,” Travis grinned, laying a quick kiss on Wes’ cheek. “You can drive.”
Amused, Wes opened the driver’s side door. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled at Travis. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? You always let me drive.”
“You wanna ride on the back of my bike? I’d be more than happy to give you a lift, baby.”
“Uh, no thank you,” Wes declined, anxious but happy energy filling his insides. “Get in and tell me where we’re headed.”
“Yes sir,” Travis mocked, opening the passenger door and flopping into the seat. “We’re headed to the north to my foster sister Maeve’s place. You remember her?”
Wes nodded, starting the car and pulling out of the spot he’d left it in. “She’s the one with a cat the size of a small horse, correct?”
“That’d be the one.”
Travis gave him directions and they hit the freeway, intent on not letting his partner be late for his meeting. Wes looked over into the passenger seat and watched Travis as he related some childhood story involving himself, Maeve and a foster brother he didn’t remember hearing about before then. He couldn’t be sure if Travis was serious about the kiss not being a joke, but he figured he’d endured his teasing and taunting for this long, he could endure it a bit more.
“Hey Travis,” he asked, interrupting the ongoing story.
“Yeah?”
“What are we going to tell the gawkers about that little scene back at the station?”
Travis laughed, loud and obnoxious. “That we’re honeymooning in Hawaii?”
“Nah, Hawaii’s too pedestrian,” Wes joked. “Tell them Italy.”
“Italy,” Travis said, drawing the word out. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
“You better believe it will work,” Wes teased, reaching his hand across the console and allowing Travis to twine his fingers together with his own.
“But first,” Travis said, beaming. “We need to see a girl about a car.”