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Terms Of Endearment	By : suz Category: G through L > Invisible Man Views: 1112 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Invisible Man, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Terms Of Endearment
- 1
Fandom: Invisible Man

Pairing: Hobbes and Fawkes – who else?

Warnings: None (well, not counting the usual slashy ones ;^D)

Spoilers: Nothing specific

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, wish I did. I love them more than SciFi ever did. Making no $, just playing with my action figures.

Archive?: Yes, just let me know where.

Feedback: yes of course! To suzinsf@earthlink.net or fanficsf@earthlink.net

Summary: A picture is worth a thousand words… Eberts unexpectedly finds that out.

Terms of Endearment:

by Suz

I've been watching them.

I'm not sure why, but the interaction between Darien and Robert has changed recently. Well, not recently, but in the last montmonths or so.

I really can't explat, bt, but I know Charles has noticed it as well. What I don't understand, is why he seems to be so pleased about it.

The arguments are becoming more and more frequent. I can't walk past Robert's office without hearing the disagreements lately. Neither of them seems to be making any effort to keep the rest of the Agency from overhearing their increasingly common disputes.

Perhaps it's a overover from my childhood…

Hearing people argue, fight... makes me acutely uncomfortable. The closest personal equivalent I can come up with are the moments the Official actively disagrees with something I've said or done. It doesn't happen as often as it once did as I've come to discern the differences between his various reprimands.

"Eberts." That can mean anything from 'well done' to 'what were you thinking?'. Even 'Shut up, Eberts," has a variety of interpretations. Occasionally it even means exactly what it sounds like.

It took Charles and myself quite a while to work out a form of communication we both understood.

I wasn't especially pleased to have been transferred to the Agency from the IRS. The safety net of rules and regulations that the Revenue Service provided me were essential in my evolution from uncertain math savant to reasonably assured financial wizard.

Wizard.

It is fromfrom the word I would have used to describe myself before I began working with Charles Borden.

I don't believe I've ever worked for anyone who's appreciated the specifics of what I can do for them the way the Official has.

It is a measure of the man that the first time he used the now common 'shut up, Eberts', I didn't shrink into my shoes and slink off to expire in a private hell of embarrassment. I knew what was needed. Because he had groomed me for the role.

I have always known I was destined to be the power behind the throne. I just hadn't ever expected to find an employer who recognized that fact.

Charles has come to count on me for the facts to support his regime. Regardless of the situation, I have been primed to provide the answers.

But I don't know what the answers are, here.

I… wish… Someone knew me as well as Robert Hobbes knows Darien Fawkes. Or at least as well as I thought they knew each other.

I've never deluded myself. I am not the sort of person to inspire the kind of personal loyalty that Fawkes provoked in Hobbes. Or vice versa.

I… I had come to accept that they loved each other beyond the simple respect of coworkers for each other. I thought they'd transcended that to a different level, one that I would never aspire to. One that spoke to the trust required between two men who risk their lives and each other6;s.6;s.

Hearing them fight the way they have been has been physically painful.

I know it's inexcusable, but I've been spying on them, trying to discover the root of the problem between them. I wish I could make it better. Dear god, I wish I could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"God-fucking-dammit!" Darien swore violently. "Do you ever listen to me?"

"Shut the hell up and just do it Fawkes," Hobbes grunted grimly.

Albert's hurried steps faltered at the dull thump that drifted to his ears, the sound sending a frission of anxiety down his spine. They were at it again. Only now it sounded as if they were coming to blows. The hallway outside Robert A. Hobbes' tiny office had become the place the executive assistant dreaded passing every day on his various journeys up and down the Agency's corridors. Even if the vintage textured glass hadn't been cracked in its wooden frame, the increasingly regular arguments would have been audible.

"You little shit," Hobbes' unmistakable growl followed the fading reverberation of what Eberts could only assume was the compact body hitting the wall. "Goddamned smart-ass punk, do it! I dare ya!"

The swell of anxiety into near panic tightened Eberts' throat. What on earth were they fighting about now?

"Do it? Damned right I'm gonna do it. You've been parading around, practically shoving it in my face all afternoon, Hobbes, you little jerk." Darien Fawkes' deep voice was edged with frustration.

Hobbes' response was a snort of unmistakable amusement. "You wish, there, ace. You wish." There was another scuffling noise and Hobbes groaned deep in his throat. "Goddammit, you little prick, do it now, already!"

More assorted thumps and groans were followed by a low laugh from Darien Albert could only term 'evil'. "Gottcha by the short hairs, there, Hobbesy," he announced in obvious satisfaction.

"Fuck you, Fawkes," Hobbes managed, sounding strangled. "You have any idea how hard I'm gonna pound your ass? ANY idea?"

"Yeah, if you can still stand when I'm done with you, man," was Fawkes' smug response.

Torn by uncertainty, Eberts raised a hand to knock on the door, then hesitated, knowing the situation was none of his business, and even more, fearing that the ire of both men would end up directed at himself if he interrupted. He hovered indecisively, wavering the same half-step back and forth in front of Hobbes' door, anxiety threading along his nerves like the sting of fire ants.

Which is when he realithe the cracked glass in the door frame had left a gap of a fraction of an inch from the top left corner to midway down the opposite side. The lower section of glass had slowly settled, leaving a tiny fracture line, a jagged glimpse into the turmoil on the other side of the door.

He shifted slightly, trying to see if he could spot the partners as the pair continued to bait and taunt each other, voices progressively rougher, deeper, more insistent.

"Oh, crap," Hobbes muttered raggedly as another soft thud sounded.

It was enough to allow Eberts to locate their position near the opposite wall, and he peered across Hobbes' office through the narrow peole ole to see the older agent with his back to the wall, shirt unbuttoned, undershirt rucked up under his armpits. Albert blinked in surprise, then gulped audibly as he realized Fawkes knelt at Hobbes' feet, and that Bobby's pants had been unfastened and shoved down around his calves.

Embarrassment flooded through him in heated waves far stronger than the previous anxiety had as the realization of what he'd been hearing and misinterpreting the past several months dawned. Darien Fawkes and Robert Hobbes had become lovers, not sparring partners.

Dumbfounded, he struggled with that for several interminable seconds as the noises from inside the office grew less and less comprehensible. Shocked fascination drew his gaze back to the view through the broken glass and he watched as Fawkes rocked between his partner's legs, long agile hands flowing over Hobbes' abdomen, ribs, buttocks, chest, thighs, everywhere Darien could reach in fact.

Robert's eyes were closed, lips parted, head resting against the wall, his hands tangled in his partner's luxurious hair, stroking, kneading, petting, deep moans coming from him as Darien…

Good lord. Darien Fawkes was fellating his partner with all the concentration and dedication he refused to give to his work at the Agency. Mesmerized, Albert stared at the astonishing sight of Hobbes' healthy erection disappearing down his partner's slender throat again and again. Even just the fractional view Albert had was enough to showcase the utter eroticism of the union he was witnessing.

"God-fucking-dammit, Fawkes, please! Jesus, please!" Hobbes moaned as Darien's left hand dropped from the nipple he'd been tweaking to cradle the heavy testicles in front of his chin. Albert was stunned to realize the long graceful fingers had wrapped themselves around the root of Bobby's testes, forcing them forward and into tongue range, and the wet swipe of the broad lick Dn swn swept over his partner's balls sent unaccustomed tremors through Eberts' nether regions, his own scrotum tingling at the idea of that contact.

"Hmm?" was the best Darien could manage with his mouth full, but he released his partner's flushed and swollen penis from its captivity, the length gleaming with saliva, to continue. "You wanted something, Hobbes?" Darien growled. Even from over 7 yards away, the sheer heat in Fawkes' eyes was scorching. Devilment sparkled in the dark eyes, and if he could have breathed, Albert would have echoed Hobbes’ groan of frustration.

"Fawkes, you mother-loving bastard! Dammit, goddamn you to fucking hell! You shit-eating, punk-ass, smart-mouthed little thief!" Expletives rained from Hobbes' mouth as he glared down into his partner's laughing gaze. "I swear, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you're nonna nna be able to move for a frickin' month!" he panted, then groaned again as Darien's tongue flicked over the gleaming head of his engorged cock, his head falling back against the wall with a thud Eberts now recognized.

"Oh, I'm s-o-o-o-o scared, there, partner," Darien teased mercilessly, lapping and nibbling along the rigid shaft like a picnicker with an ear of corn. "I'm gonna hold you to that, you know," he grinned up at Bobby evilly, and sucked the head of his partner's penis into his mouth, tongue swirling along the underside tantalizingly.

"I swear to fucking god, Fawkes, I'm so gonna make you pay for this!" Hobbes managed, voice raspy with need.
AlbeAlbert didn't quite see what Darien did next, but Robert's moan of abject want was enough to trigger a surge of blood to the assistant's own groin in response.

"You were sayin' there, Hobbesy?" Fawkes murmured, cheek resting on the flat of Robert's belly, breathing heavily himself as he brushed the lightest of kisses along the shaft.

"Darien," was the raggedly whispered plea. "Please!"

Rather than return to the now-leaking erection begging for attention mere millimeters from his nose, Fawkes settled onto his haunches and nuzzled his partner's muscular thighs from knees to groin, Hobbes' stance widening helplessly with every caress. Eyes fixed on his dazed partner, Darien's ntednted tongue circled and swirled the fingers of his own right hand and then returned to the feast before it as the hand he'd laved slid between Hobbes' legs.

"Ahhhh, Christ, Fawkesy!" Robert whimpered. It wasn't until Albert saw him flex his knees, spine sliding down the wall a few inches, that the assistant realized what Darien was doing with his right hand while he so hungrily sucked his partner's cock.

Clearly, Hobbes had transcended the mundane world because his hands returned to his partner's hair, clutching at the skull beneath as he drove himself into the eager mouth while Darien thrust fingers into Hobbes' equally eager body. Control was gone, and Darien must have realized that as his eyes drifted shut, his free hand sliding to the upper curve of Hobbes' ass to rest there lightly, possessively, letting his friend move as he needed.

Robert's forceful, rhythmic thrusts began to disintegrate into chaos as he approached orgasm, and Albert couldn't tear his gaze away from the pair as an inarticulate yowl poured from Hobbes' throat as Darien's own convulsed, swallowing everything his partner gave him.

It was the single most erotic thing Albert had ever witnessed. He'd never ventured into an adult video shop in his life, but what he'd just seen had to rival anything even the best porn producers could ever have come up with. He was trembling with arousal himself, and wondered vaguely if this was anything like what the pair of agents had just experienced.

But they were apparently not finished yet. Hobbes was slack-muscled, limp against the wall, but Darien sparked with energetic passion as he let the softening penis slip from his mouth and rose. Albert hadn't realized the younger agent had unfastened his own pants, the angle not allowing for that tidbit to be revealed until the lanky man stood. The front of his worn brown corduroy pants was open, the long, thick erection he sported protruding from the folds of the tightey whiteys that peeked out from the loosened waistband of the pants.

Eberts had no idea what to expect next, but the gentle embrace Darien enveloped his partner in wasn't it. Nor was the heated kiss they exchanged. Even though his particular angle didn't provide an optimal view, there was no doubt about the hungry meeting of tongues and the tasting of lips. Slowly, strength visibly returned to Hobbes' smaller body and the embrace went from gentle to more aggressive when Robert began pumping his friend's penis slowly. It was Darien's turn to groan, but fortunately for him, Hobbes wasn't interested in teasing his junior partner.

Instead, Hobbes gently shoved Darien back a step or two until the back of his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and lowered him onto the surface, heedless of the pencil holder that tipped and scattered its contents to the floor, or the stapler that followed.

"Hobbesy," Darien sighed as Bobby's hand continued to stroke. Hobbes leaned over his prone partner, resting his weight on an elbow, his free hand sliding up under Fawkes’ shirt to caress warm flesh. Albert watched Fawkes' hands roam his smaller partner's back reflexively, as if unaware of the action, in presumed response to the touch on his own belly and groin, and Eberts felt his skin tingle in empathic reaction.

The current activity wasn't as ideally located as before, but by now, Albert's imagination was more than up to filling in the blanks, and Hobbes’ avid expression as he watched his partner, eagle-eyed, provided sufficient cues to what was happening. In case that wasn’t enough, Darien’s low moan, a ululating threnody of sheer pleasure, made his enjoyment crystal clear.

"Oh god, ogod-ogod-ogod, Bobby," the younger man managed breathlessly, his hips beginning a reflex thrusting into Hobbes’ hand. "Harder, god, harder!"

"You little slut," Hobbes grinned, his own hips moving now as he rubbed himself along Darien’s thigh, his naked buttocks flexing. Albert found the sight riveting, what little of it he could see through his narrow field of vision. It was all he could do not to tuck his hands into his trouser pockets and emulate Hobbes’ assured grip on his flesflesh. He ached with arousal kne knew he’d likely be acutely uncomfortable the rest of the day.

Darien’s needy whimper was barely audible across the office to the hall Albert haunted, but there was no mistaking his state. "Oh crap," came the whine and Quicksilver flowed over the partners like a tide, swifter than Eberts had ever seen before.

And they were gone. Gone from sight, but not hearing, and Darien’s cry of pleasure echoed loudly into the hall, Hobbes’ soft laughter, astonishingly tender, drifted after. "Now who’s got who by the balls?" Bobby inquired impishly.

"You. Me. Don’t let go, you sonovabitch, not ever. Christ. Why can we we just stay in bed the rest of our lives?" came Darien’s petulant query.

"Good question, my friend. Good question. Next time the Fat Man hands us a pay check, let’s ask him." Hobbes’ laughter was amused, gentle, fond.

"Kill-joy," Darien sulked as the Quicksilver flaked away from the pair and fell like glitter to the desk and floor.

"That’s me," Robert agreed happily and wiped his slippery hand on the tails of Darien’s ‘70s-era photo print nylon shirt then straightened, bending to yank his pants up, tugging his clothing into place with practiced movements. Darien lay sprawled on the desk like a debauched schoolboy, softening cock relaxing over his belly, watching his partner get cleaned up, clearly refusing to follow suit. "C’mon, there, sleeping beauty, playtime’s over," Hobbes prodded, poking his partner in the ribs, then wrinkling his nose. "We really gotta see about getting a shower installed in the men’s room," he added. "We reek."

"Hmmm. Think of all the trouble we could get into with a little soap and water," Darien leered up at Hobbes, crossing his hands behind his head and bouncing his eyebrows wickedly.

The stern look Hobbes was trying for was ruined by the soft snort of laughter. "Look at all the trouble we get into without it," he pointed out with a grin. Then carefully seized Fawkes’ member and tucked it into his clothing, ignoring the groan of protest. "There. Good as new, if you don’t count the ‘eau de brothel’ around this place," he concluded, offering a hand to Darien, who took nd lnd let himself be hoisted into a sitting position, maintaining his grip on the older man and tugging him between his open knees.

"Can I have a good bye kiss, at least?" Darien asked in his best punk mode, dark eyes sparkling. Albert wasn’t sure, but suspected the agent had just wrapped his legs around his standing partner’s.

Hobbes appeared to be considering the advisability of fulfilling that request when Fawkes simply took matters into his own hands and folded his arms around his partner, kissing him hungrily. "It’s not a good bye kiss if neither of us is goin’ anywhere," Hobbes pointed out several long seconds later.

"Is too. ‘Cuz we both know the second we set foot outta here, it’s good bye, nookie, hello boring stakeout…" Darien’s voice trailed off and the look the pair exchanged was positively incandescent.

"Stakeout," Hobbes repeated, as if thinking aloud.

"Stakeout," Darien agreed, lng vng vastly more cheerful than he had a second before.

"Stake in, more like," Hobbes grinned toothily. Darien burst out laughing.

"And you think I have a dirty mind," Fawkes chortled, hugging Bobby closer to him.

Hobbes shrugged modestly. "Well, they say great minds think alike," he responded.

Fawkes’ forehead rested against Hobbes’ as he peered into warm brown sugar eyes. "So what’m I thinking right now?" he asked provocatively.

"Gee, let me guess," Hobbes smirked. "Maybe ‘last one out that door’s gonna get his ass whipped’?"

"Maybe," Darien agreed with a matching grin. "Race ya to the van," he offered, and as fast as that, they were on the move across the office.

Albert fled, barely reaching the turning in the corridor as they stepped out into the hall.

He managed to reach the safety of the Official’s office without encountering the pair of agents to his profound relief, even if he’d had to duck into a janitorial closet while they passed by. He entered the office somewhat breathlessly, and the Official raised his head from whatever had occupied his attention, sharp-eyed gaze swng ong over his assistant, missing nothing from the faint flush of Albert’s cheeks to the unmistakable bulge in his trousers that even his suit coat couldn’t hide. Mortified, the accountant swallowed convulsively and headed for the camouflage of a file cabinet, behind whose open drawers he could take refuge.

Oh, dear. Open. Drawers. He felt himself blush harder, the Official’s gaze taking in everything.

"I see the boys were at it again," he stated, and Eberts’ eyes turned to his employer, the fierce blush paling until he spotted the glint of amusement in the stern blue eyes. "Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the noise eventually," Charles Borden assured his nonplussed assistant and went back to work, leaving Albert to wonder if he’d ever get used to the idea of Fawkes and Hobbes as more than partners.

"Yes sir," was all he could manage.

End.
- 1
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Terms Of Endearment