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Pop Quiz	By : suz Category: G through L > Invisible Man Views: 1669 -:- 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
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See part 1 for disclaimers

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Darien stared across the sunset gold-filled cab of the van at Hobbes, focused on the strong lines of his partner’s profile as he growled at whoever had dared interrupt this time.

Bobby had kissed him. On the dick. He felt every nerve-ending where Hobbes had touched him tingle with a sudden surge of excitement that threatened to turn his brain to mush. He was light-headed with the sudden return of blood to his nether regions, a giddiness he embraced with the faith that he and his partner were most emphatically on the same page yet again.

Maybe – hell, obviously – honesty was the best policy when it came to scratching what had turned out to be a mutual itch. Hobbes had respected Darien’s wish to avoid the scolding that usually followed any mention of Liz Morgan. But he’d seen the flash of bone-deep anger in Hobbes’ eyes as he’d brought her up. Or was it really only anger? He considered that, tuning out Hobbes’ conversation with the interloper on the phone. Maybe, just maybe, it was jealousy? Could it be that Hobbes had more than a simple case of the hots for him? After all, Bobby was the one who’d brought up the ‘L’ word in random conversation. Something warm began creeping through him as he considered this possibility. It wasn’t as if love was a new thing between them. It was just that the physical elements of that emotion had never really been broached before. But he was beginning to think that was about to change. Still, there were things Hobbes had a right to know about him, about some of the things he’d been through, especially where sex was involved.

He thought about the question Hobbes had just read with a different mindset than he had when he’d first scanned it hours earlier. It wasn't pretty, but it was the truth. His past would be his whether he dodged it or owned it. Owning it meant one less thing to worry about revealing to his partner. It might repulse Bobby, but it wouldn't end their relationship. For pretty much the first time in his adult life, he knew he had a friend. A friend. Someone who wouldn't judge without listening, or understanding. Could he let go of the sex in favor of the friendship? It hurt, but the reality was, spending his days with Bobby Hobbes was more important than spending his nights with him. For three years, he'd relied on Bobby's day-to-day presence in his life to keep him safe, to keep him sane. So if it came down to it, that friendship was his first priority. It amazed him that he was capable of thinking with anything other than his cock, given that was where the blood supply had gone. But he loved his partner more than he lusted after him. Possibly a first in Darien Fawkes' history.

"Nice work, Alice," Hobbes' congratulations penetrated Darien's preoccupation. "Bring the bastard in and make sure you get Eberts out of bed to file the report." Fawkes' ears perked up a bit at that.

"Yeah. No, I'm not kiddin' You think I wanna spend my weekend filling out paperwork?" Bobby asked sarcastically, listening to whatever the reply was. "Hey, you made the bust, you do the paperwork. I got me some plans for the weekend. Fawkes…? Dunno. He probably does, too. Ask him yourself." A beat or two then; "How the hell am I supposed to know? You got his cell number, call him." More silence. "Heh. Nope, sorry. You're on your own. Go ask Green. He'll know. Or not. Fawkes is mine."

Darien blinked, wondering what the hell Hobbes was talking about.

"No, you're good. Call in and get Eberts to authorize the hook-up with SDPD." Hobbes' grin was a mile wide and Darien couldn't help smiling as well. It was contagious. For no reason save it was Bobby's smile, and that was reason enough. "Thanks for checkin' in, man," Bobby said and hung up.

"So… I take it Mr. Clean came clean?" Darien inquired.

"That he did, my friend, that he did. And we are officially off the hook for weekend stakeout duties."

"Sweet," Darien grinned.

"So. Where were we?" Bobby inquired archly as he settled back and eyed Darien speculatively.

Darien shifted in his seat, struggling with his earlier resolve of honesty with Hobbes.

"Oh, yeah. Longest sex session." Hobbes bounced his eyebrows suggestively.

"It wasn’t in a bed…" Darien began, that admission alone harder than he’d thought it would be.

"Hnuh," Hobbes grunted.

Darien swallowed, trying to moisten a mouth gone suddenly dry. "11 hours."

Hobbes snorted. "What, that’s it?"

Darien turned to watch the setting sun, squinting in the intense light. "I was 18. Hair down to here -" he fluttered a hand at shoulder level. "Thought I was so damned tough." He let the sarcasm dripping off every word reveal his opinion of his attitude at the time. "My first conviction as an adult, and I’m on my way through the processing center for the first time. There was some kind of snafu and me and nine other guys spent over 11 hours in a holding tank with nothing on while we waited for them to bring us clean uniforms." He didn’t need to look at his partner to feel the abrupt stillness. He braced himself and went on. "We were all cuffed and shackled, but that didn’t stop them. One of them got me in a stranglehold and made me assume the position." Darien paused, shaking his head. "Man, I was dumb. If I’d screamed, yelled, something, it’d have been over in minutes. As it was, they took turns riding my ass all night. I was pretty messed up by the time they finally came in to check on us."

The silence in the van was deafening. Darien swallowed again, concentrating on the sunset, on the seabirds that wheeled over the water like a school of airborne fish, anything but the reaction his little confession had generated in his partner.

"Jesus, Fawkes," Bobby whispered.

Darien shrugged slightly. "Hey, not exactly like it was the first time I’d been fucked by another guy. Just the only time I didn’t enjoy it." Finally, he managed to summon the guts to turn to look at Hobbes.

Bobby’s face was ashen under the tan, eyes painfully bright with what Darien suspected were tears. "I... Jesus." Bobby began, then hesitated. "Fawkes, if there was any way I could hunt the bastards down, I’d kill them for what they did."

Darien didn’t doubt it for a second. The knowledge that his partner would do exactly that warmed him inwardly in places that hadn’t felt safe for decades. Bobby had crept into his life, his soul, and quietly, with nothing more than steadfast friendship, healed many of the wounds life had dealt him. "Hey, shit happens, Bobby. It’s just that a lot of it seems to happen to me." He grinned a little, marveling at the lack of self-pity he felt.

Hobbes nodded shortly. "Yeah. I hear that, my friend. And as of right now, that changes. For both of us. We got us a lot of lost time to make up for." With that peculiar observation, Hobbes fastened his seatbelt and started the van, pulling out onto the road.

To Darien’s surprise, they weren’t headed back to the main thoroughfare that led to the bridge and downtown San Diego. Instead, Bobby drove a mere few blocks, then pulled into the parking lot of a Walgreens drugstore, parking illegally, and hoped out. "Back in a second, Fawkesy," Hobbes informed him as he slammed the door shut and loped across the lot to the store entrance.

True to his word, Hobbes was back with a bag of something-or-other in under 10 minutes. He climbed back into the van and tossed Darien the bag with a grin. Curious, Fawkes opened it and peered inside. He laughed at what he saw, the warmth he’d felt earlier now flaring into arousal all over again. Two toothbrushes, an enormous box of condoms and a gigantic tube of lube were what his crazed little partner had gone shopping for. "Something tells me you have plans for the weekend, " he teased.

"Gee, ya think?" Hobbes grinned back at him and put the van in gear once more. "I say we work on setting a new Darien Fawkes record for extended playtime. Whaddaya say, partner?"

Darien laughed again. "Talk about an offer I can’t refuse," he said happily.

"And maybe we can take care of a few of the other questions in that rag of yours while we’re at it," Bobby added, pulling back out into traffic.

"Such as?" Darien asked, intrigued.

"Such as, upping the ante on the unique locations thing, for starters," Hobbes proposed, zooming through an intersection as the light changed.

"Oh, yeah? And just what exactly did you have in mind there, Hobbesy?" Darien asked, vastly amused.

"You’ll see," Bobby replied mysteriously.

"No fair, Hobbes," Darien whined. "Why can’t I know?"

"Maybe I feel like surprising you, pal," Bobby suggested.

Darien spent an unsuccessful 10 minutes trying to wheedle it out of Hobbes, only abandoning the effort when they turned into the massive semi-circular driveway of the Hotel Del Coronado and the answer to that question resolved itself.

"You’re shittin’ me, right?" Darien said in disbelief as Hobbes stopped the van along the passenger loading curb.

"Hey, this is my seduction, so shut up and enjoy it," Bobby laughed as he got out of the van. Darien scrambled out after him, remembering to grab the magazine and their bag of goodies, and followed Hobbes inside to the concierge’s desk.

"We’d like a room, Hobbes announced cheerfully to the concierge, who smiled politely.

"I’m afraid we haven’t any room vacancies," they were told.

"That’s OK," Darien interrupted, the potential expense having freaked him out a little.

"We’ll take one of the beach cottages, then," Bobby finished smoothly, every inch the confidant patron. The concierge raised an eyebrow, and Darien knew their rumpled stakeout attire was hardly up to the standards of the hotel’s typical guest.

"They’re rather… pricey," the concierge warned hesitantly.

"Hob – OW!" Darien’s attempt to intervene in Hobbes’ headlong rush to extravagance was stifled by his partner’s sharp kick to his ankle.

"That’s alright," Bobby assured the man. "It’s a special occasion." He fished out his wallet and flicked a credit card across the marble counter casually.

"Very well, sir," the concierge agreed, and proceeded to check them in. Hobbes signed the registration forms and pocketed his card.

"I’ll call the bellman. Just direct him to your vehicle, and he’ll take care of your luggage," the hotel staffer said as he handed them each a key card.

"No need," Hobbes grinned. "No luggage."

Darien felt himself blush.

"You do realize we have a public area dress code?"

"Shouldn’t be a problem, pal. I seriously doubt we’ll be out in ‘public’ most of the weekend," Bobby said nonchalantly.

This time it was the concierge’s turn to blush. "Well, then, enjoy your stay, gentlemen," he managed weakly.

"Oh, we plan to," Hobbes assured him as he stepped away from the counter. "Got a whole list of activities planned, don’t we, Fawkes?" he added wickedly as they headed across the lobby.

Darien laughed in spite of himself, embarrassment warring with amusement at Hobbes’ brashness.

Shoulder to shoulder, they headed through the vast old Victorian hotel towards the beach houses on the northern end of the property. "You’re a nutcase, you know that, right?" Darien asked rhetorically, poking an elbow into Hobbes’ ribs gently.

"So it says in my psych records, Fawkes. Right now, I happen to be nuts about one hot piece of Fawkesy ass."

"But tomorrow, who knows?" Darien asked snidely.

"Tomorrow, I may decide to marry him," Hobbes laughed and turned down the pathway that led to the trio of beach-front cottages, finding theirs and keying open the door. "So consider yourself warned, buckwheat." He waved Darien on ahead, and Fawkes stepped into the lap of luxury - then found himself slammed back-first against the wall, Hobbes’ hands under his shirt, rucking up the sweaty, rumpled fabric under Darien’s arms so he could nuzzle his chest.

"Hmmmm," Darien moaned happily as his left nipple was caressed by the rough silk of his partner’s tongue.

"Whaddya say, Fawkes? Ready to see how many things we can cross off on that list of yours?" Hobbes grinned up at him, then startled Darien into a gasp as he cupped Darien’s cock possessively.

"Oh, yeah," Darien grinned back, memories of that first, violent, sexual marathon fading to oblivion, eradicated by his partner’s hand on his flesh. "Bring it on!"

end
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