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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Officer Friendly Reporting for Duty
Fandom: Common Law
Pairing: Travis Marks + Wes Mitchell
Rating: NC-17. Mild nudity and suggestive content.
Word Count: 7,269
Summary: In a world where Travis and Wes aren’t partners, Wes no longer needs couple’s therapy. Instead, he seeks out a group of another sort – a single’s support group. The therapy girls become single girls and all hell breaks loose. But where’s Travis?
Author’s Note: A birthday present for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
peppermint_wow. Although Common Law is not one of her fandoms, since she so eagerly enabled me with this prompt, it is my gift to her. Enjoy honey (and there will be more, I promise. But after writing nearly 4k words yesterday and seeing no end in sight, I had to stop before my fingers cramped.)
“Girl, you know you need a night out,” the sharp dressed African-American woman said, poking the blond in the shoulder. “You’re a cop, for crying out loud. Do you ever get a night off?”
The blond looked at her and chuckled, self-deprecatingly. He hated it when the girls turned their attention on him and his desperately lonely situation. They at least had a shot at getting a man where his chances were slim and none – and he’d heard Slim had just left town. “Rozelle, please. We’ve had this discussion before. The job has to come first. What I do, as a detective, is more important than my social life.”
“Right,” she said, not quite believing him. “And how long are you going to use that excuse?”
Wes opened his mouth to respond and Dakota’s voice exited. Blinking, he turned to the dark-haired cutie and waited for her to weigh in on the situation. Because she would. Dakota couldn’t help herself. She meant well, but she had a tendency to be a busybody when it came to the rest of their relationships.
“He’s going to keep on using his job as a shield from here to eternity,” Dakota said, a smile softening the harshness of her proclamation. “We need to get him out and shake him up, don’t you think?”
“Oh you know it,” Rozelle agreed. “You think we could get Maggie to go out with us Friday?”
Maggie was the oldest member of their group – a group of lonely women (and one very lonely, very reluctant man) looking for their soulmates – and not often prone to journeying out with the younger women. Er, people.
He really did need to get out more if he was going to continue to refer to himself in the feminine.
“Have you ever asked Emma to join you on your girl’s night out?” Wes had been curious about this for a long time. Emma Ryan was their group leader and self-proclaimed happiness seeker. She believed in finding joy where it lay – and reminding everyone that it didn’t necessarily reside within a man’s arms. While she wasn’t opposed to finding her life partner, she was also very cautious not to ever put all her happiness eggs in one basket.
Dakota tilted her head to the side. “I think we asked her once or twice, but she’s never come along. Neither has Maggie, but that I understand. We’re all a good twenty years younger than she is.”
“Emma’s our age though,” Rozelle added.
“True.” Dakota frowned for a long moment. “Guess we should go inside then, huh? It’s almost time.”
Wes checked his watch. It was actually a minute past, but the women harassed him anytime he corrected them on things like that. “Indeed. After you ladies.”
“Thanks, Wes,” Dakota said, slipping past him into the room they used for their group.
“And we can finish this talk later, mister, because you’re not off the hook yet,” Rozelle said. “Oh, and thanks. You can be quite the gentleman when you want to be.”
He smiled his appreciation, although his manners hadn’t ever gotten him anywhere. By the time he’d gotten to his seat in the little makeshift gym, Emma was already well into her feel good speech of the evening. She started every meeting off this way in the belief that if they started on an up note, they’d finish on an up note. And leaving the group with a positive attitude put good vibes into the universe.
Wes doubted that, but he’d been raised better than to dash others’ hopes on the rocks of his own pessimism. So he endured the twice-weekly get-togethers with a forced smile and the reminder that it was two hours a week he didn’t spend alone or at work. Or both, since his partner – Detective Wilson Hart – couldn’t be bothered to show up on time these days. If he showed up at all. It was enough to make a boy crazy. Sighing, he checked his watch.
That caught Emma’s attention. “Wes,” she asked in her charming, British accent. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
In bed? “No,” he said, trying to ease the hurt he’d inadvertently caused in this kind, if flighty woman. “I worked late and haven’t eaten since breakfast. Forgive me if I’m a bit antsy to get out of here tonight.”
Emma nodded, accepting his lie as truth. Rozelle and Dakota, on the other hand, glared at him from the other side of their happy circle. He gave a half shrug, not really ashamed of his little white lie. Tonight, he really wished he were anywhere but here.
By the grace of god or some other benevolent being, he made it through the meeting and slipped out ahead of the girls. Wes promised himself that he’d make it up to them on Thursday, when the group next met, but tonight, he just couldn’t do it. The call he’d gotten from his mother earlier had put him on edge and had kept him there all day.
Wes wished the talks with his mother were like those of any other son, but unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky. Instead of meaningless but loving chit chat about work, his friends, any possible special someones, his conversations were relegated to lectures on all the mistakes he’d ever made. There were times when he began to believe that his biggest mistake had been that of being born. However, his mother disagreed. For her, his decision to leave law to become a police officer went above and beyond every other mistake he’d ever had the misfortune of owning. He often thought that he could commit murder and her response would be, “Well, if you’d stayed in law, maybe you could have afforded a better lawyer.”
Don’t get him wrong, he loved his mother, but her insistence that he’d screwed up grated on his nerves. He’d failed a client and he’d sent an innocent man to jail. How could he, in good conscience, still practice law after such a serious and heinous mistake? As far as he was concerned, he couldn’t. Sadly, his ex-wife, Alex, had sided with his mother and divorced him.
Ah, but Alex was another story altogether, one he wasn’t ready to delve into tonight. Or any night.
The buzzing of his phone brought him out of his dreary thoughts. Checking the screen he had a message from Rozelle. Great.
Look blondie, I know you snuck out on us and I’ll let it go this time. But only because I know Friday’s your birthday.
How the hell did she know that? Shaking his head, he texted her back.
And your point is?
She must’ve been the fastest texter he’d ever known because it felt like he’d barely finished his response when her reply lit up his cell.
My point is, you need to get out. Miss D and I are taking you out. Friday. No excuses. You hear me, Wes?
He had to admit, he was a tiny bit frightened of the petite lady. She had the air of a woman who could bring a man to his knees with her pinky finger. It was a theory he’d rather keep as a theory.
Fine. You get an hour and then I’m out.
He waited for her reply and it took longer than he’d expected. She and Dakota were probably colluding in a restaurant somewhere.
Okay, but we’ll make sure you won’t want to leave when your hour’s up.
Good luck with that, he thought.
Friday came and went like any other day of the year. His partner had had no idea it was his birthday, and Wes wasn’t about the one to tell him otherwise. Sad as it sounded, he was better off if he never got used to anyone making a fuss over him. Alex had been the last person to even remember his birthday and those days were better left unremembered. It was just past five o’clock when he left the precinct, bound and determined to put the day behind him. Five stairs down, he ran into a very familiar, opposing figure who was apparently waiting for him.
“Rozelle?” He was dumbfounded, to say the least. “Why are you here? You’re not in any trouble are you?” Wes didn’t figure he could help her much even if she was, but the protective instinct inside him, the one that had insisted he become a cop in the first place, required he at least ask.
A sassy smile kicked up one side of her face. “Oh no, quite the opposite. I was making sure you didn’t decide to ‘forget’ about your date with Dakota, Emma, and I tonight.”
“Emma’s coming?” This was a shock, to say the least. She never came out with the rest of them. “Wow.”
“Yep,” she said, slipping her arm through his and guiding him to the parking lot. “Even Maggie agreed once Dakota told her where we were going.”
That didn’t sound good. “So,” he said, trying for casual, “where are we going?”
“Nuh-uh,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “Not telling. You’re just going to have to follow me. And if you try and get yourself lost, Mr. Detective? I’ll hunt you down. Got me?”
He did. “Yes ma’am.”
“Good, let’s go. We’re meeting the girls for dinner first.”
Dinner he could handle. On the other hand, it had been nearly two years since he’d had dinner with a female he wasn’t related to or working with. To say he was out of practice would be stretching the truth. This could turn into an utter disaster if he didn’t keep his mouth in check.
Dakota stood and squeezed him, hard, the minute he and Rozelle approached the table. “I wanted to be the one to come get you,” she said, nearly breathless with excitement. “But Rozelle was afraid you’d intimidate me. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t afraid of you, but she wouldn’t listen.” She gave him another enthusiastic hug before wishing him a happy birthday and releasing him. The rest of the group followed with birthday wishes and unwarranted assaults on his personal space.
The ladies insisted he have at least one birthday drink before they headed out to their final destination for the night. Wes supposed it was to loosen him up enough so that he actually agreed to whatever they’d plotted for his celebration that night. Against his better judgement, he ordered a scotch and soda, proceeding to nurse it until their food arrived.
Much to his surprise, this little get together hadn’t started out to be as awful as he was afraid it might. The conversation was lighthearted and pleasant, not the kind of discussions you got when a couple cops had dinner together. And when those cops were homicide detectives? Yeah, well, he often wondered how he ever had the stomach to keep food down when he and his partner shared a meal.
“Wes?”
He looked up from his nearly empty plate and realized Dakota had been talking to him. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked what you looked for in a woman. In general, anyway.” She looked at the ladies around her and shrugged, unapologetic. “None of us can seem to find a decent guy and here we have a decent guy right in front of us. I got to wondering if maybe none of us were the gentlemanly ideal.”
Wes was stunned. No matter what he said or how he answered this question, it was sure to cause hurt feelings somewhere along the lines. Honesty was the best policy and he decided to take that route, come hell or high water. “Truthfully? I just want an honest, intelligent woman with enough patience to stick with a man who works fourteen hours a day and comes home smelling like a dead body in the summer.” Dakota wrinkled her nose and he smiled. “As far as all of you go, there’s not a thing wrong with you. Beautiful, intelligent, charming ladies, every one of you. It’s the men who are idiots because most of them are looking for unobtainable ideal. Gorgeous, busty, and willing to put up with all of his bad habits.” He laughed, and the sound was more disbelieving than amused. “Fools.”
“Isn’t he the sweetest,” Dakota cooed. “Almost makes me feel bad for what we’re about to do to him.”
“What?” Wes looked around at the grinning faces and felt his heart sink. He was in so much trouble.
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” Emma said, her lilting British accent making the words sound much less ominous than they felt.
This wasn’t going to end well. The thought was beginning to become a mantra for him, it seemed.
Wes had obediently climbed into his car and followed the girls out of the parking lot. Dakota had tried to sneak into the passenger’s seat on the off chance he’d find a way to get lost on the way to their destination. She hadn’t been sneaky enough, however, and he’d caught her in the act with enough time to deposit her in the backseat of Rozelle’s sporty little sedan. After swearing he’d give them the hour he’d promised, he was allowed to drive himself to his own funeral. Or party, whichever.
“Why do I have the feeling they’re taking me to a strip club,” he muttered, staring out the windshield at the glowing taillights of the car ahead of him. He could see the women laughing and gesturing inside. They were bound to have a good time at least. But what was the point in taking a man along with them?
“I’m going to kill all four of them with my bare hands if we wind up at a freaking strip club.” He’d been told by his partner that female strippers loved it when couples came into the clubs, and it made him wonder if the men felt the same way. The thought that he was being set up to be used by this group of women he’d not only come to like, but to also trust, had him feeling some conflicting emotions. On one hand, it infuriated him. However, on the other… these women had been through hell over the last few years and if he could help them have a good time, why not?
This rationalization didn’t help in the least when he pulled into the parking lot of Woody’s Cockpit. It took a moment before comprehension struck and the groan echoed off the walls of his car. “Oh dear god, no.” A tap on his window startled Wes out of his despair. Rolling it down, he came face-to-face with Dakota’s grin. “Why are we here?”
She looked over her shoulder, licking her lips. “Well… since none of us can find someone, we thought we’d all go somewhere where there weren’t any expectations. You know, so none of us would leave disappointed?”
“And so an all-male gay strip club was your answer?” Wes was incredulous. And just a tiny bit intrigued. What the hell was going on in his brain today?
Again, Dakota shrugged. “Why the heck not,” she giggled. “Come on, you’re going to be the hit of the party anyway.”
Reluctantly, Wes unhooked his seat belt and rolled the window up. Opening the door, he asked, “Why on earth do you think it’ll be me and not the four crazy drunk women?”
“Because you’re adorable,” Rozelle said from behind him. “And just the kind of man these boys are going to go nuts for.”
“You think I’m a twink,” he sighed. “That’s rather offensive, and I’m not even gay enough to be offended.” Wait.
“Not ‘gay enough’,” Emma echoed.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, not even sure why he’d said it at all. “I just meant –”
“You thought we were insinuating you were gay and would attract all the pretty boys to our table,” Rozelle interrupted. “Which we were, sort of.”
“We like you no matter what, Wes,” Dakota added.
Wes sighed. Truth of the matter was, he’d never even thought about it. He’d met Alex during law school and, considering the amount of time he spent studying, he was thankful to have kept her. There had been no free time for dating or getting to know people. So, once they’d graduated, getting married had seemed like the right thing to do.
Sadly, he’d been so very, very wrong about that.
Could he be attracted to a man? It was an interesting thought to be honest. He supposed it would depend on the man, just like it did with the woman. Although he’d always assumed he was strictly heterosexual, not every female he encountered was attractive to him. So why wouldn’t there be a chance that he might actually be drawn to a man? All these questions without answers. He made a mental note to ask the medical examiner to run a tox screen on him. It was beginning to feel like someone had slipped him something, because he’d lost control of his thoughts lately.
“We’ve lost him again,” Maggie chuckled. “Earth to Wes.”
Blinking, he gave them something almost close to a smile. “Sorry.”
“No apologies allowed,” Rozelle said, sliding her arm through his again. “And stop thinking about her. She’s not worth your time, remember?”
“Right,” he said, not really believing the woman.
The inside of the club hadn’t been what he’d expected. Where were the flashing lights and loud music? Not to mention all the half-naked men? Rozelle tugged on his arm and led them all to a crescent shaped booth near the stage. “I’ve got a friend who works here,” she was saying. “And he hooked us up with some good seats.”
Just what he wanted. A front row seat to the show. Speaking of which… “It’s much quieter in here than I had expected.”
Rozelle laughed. “Next show begins in ten minutes. You’ll get what you’re expecting then. For now? We drink.”
The ladies filed into the booth, giving Wes the honor of having an easy escape route should things get hairy. A waiter dressed in nothing but a pair of tight fitting blue jeans and a bow tie around his neck arrived at their table to take drink orders. His chest muscles glistened under the bright lights and Wes wondered if it was from sweat or something he rubbed onto himself before his shift.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Dakota said. “Yuuummy.”
“Totally,” Emma agreed. “All those rippling muscles glittering under the lights. Wow.”
Wes watched the waiter walk away. “He’s a bit too beefy, don’t you think?” He looked around at the women and shook his head. “All muscle and no brains.”
“Says the scrawny boy,” a deep voice teased.
Wes looked up and ran smack dab into the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen in his lifetime. “I’m not scrawny, I’m lean.”
“I bet you are,” the dark-skinned hunk agreed. “Ladies, and gentleman, the show is about to start. Enjoy.”
“Wait,” Rozelle said, catching the man’s attention. “What’s your stage name so we know to watch for you.”
“Friendly,” he said, winking at Wes. “Officer Friendly.”
The ladies howled with glee as Officer Friendly strode off towards the stage. “Oh, did you hear that, Wes? He’s an officer just like you.”
“He’s nothing like me,” Wes muttered, taking a long draw off the fruity drink the girls had ordered him. Apparently the place didn’t serve scotch, just his luck. But it obviously served hotties up by the pitcher.
“Oh shush up and enjoy the pretty man’s attention, Wes.” Dakota. Of course, because she would totally live through him vicariously if she could.
“Excuse me,” Emma said, getting Rozelle to let her out of the booth. “Gotta tinkle, be right back.”
“She must be the fastest female tinkler ever,” Wes said, seeing her return moments later. “Neither my mother, my sister nor any other woman I’ve ever known has hit the restroom that fast. Ever.”
“This is a gay club,” Maggie reminded him. “There’s probably never a line in the ladies’ room.”
It made sense, but it still didn’t add up. “If you say so.”
The lights flashed three times. “I do, and now hush up. Like Officer Friendly said, the show’s about to start.”
Three dancers in and four drinks later, Wes was finally enjoying himself. He’d let himself off the hook regarding his ‘one hour and I’m gone’ promise. Even though he was pretty sure it was the alcohol, he decided to attribute his good mood to the company he was keeping. The girls were laughing and screeching like a bunch of teenagers seeing their first mostly-naked man. Watching them was nearly as much fun as watching the gorgeous men gyrating around on stage.
Which was something else that had surprised him. Finding himself interested in the men’s bodies, and comparing them to the ones that came after hadn’t thrown any red flags. He’d been in enough locker rooms in high school and while on the force to be comfortable with that level of examination. The thing that had made him uncomfortable, however, was that he had been holding every last one of them to the standards set by one Mister Officer Friendly.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
“And now gentlemen,” the handsome little thing that had been emceeing the show announced, “and our four very special ladies we have here tonight, it is now the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” He paused and let the cheering escalate to enormous proportions. “That’s right, it’s time for everyone’s favorite law enforcement icon – Officer Friendly!”
Wes’ ears were assaulted with loud music and his eyes shut against the crazy flashing lights when a familiar silhouette stepped onto stage. As the blue-eyed hunk reached center stage, the flashing stopped and spotlights focused on him solely. The music dimmed a notch and the stripper grinned out at the screaming crowd. It was obvious he was the club’s favorite act. Officer Friendly’s eyes skimmed along the faces nodding at ones he found familiar. His gaze skipped across Wes’ face and immediately jerked back long enough to wink and move on.
Blinking, Wes watched Officer Friendly as he worked the crowd, telling them all the things they loved to hear. As far as Wes was concerned, it was that smile that did him in. Forget those rock hard abs and that dynamite ass. It was the broad and genuine grin, full of perfect, white teeth, that was so attractive. Friendly finished priming the crowd and put the microphone back into its holster, nodding towards the sound booth. Music flooded the room again and in minutes, Wes was lost in the rhythm.
Friendly swung his hips and shook his ass, discarding his clothes piece by piece. First was the fake patrolman’s hat that he flung into the audience. Wes jumped when it landed soundly on the table in front of him. He tore his eyes from the mesmerizing sight on stage and glanced at the hat. Redirecting his eyes to the man impersonating a cop on said stage, he found himself rewarded with a blazing bright smile and another flirty wink.
“Ooooh boy,” Rozelle shouted across the table. “I think you’ve got yourself and admirer there, Wes.”
“No,” he shouted back. “I think the guy feels bad for me… since I’m stuck with all of you tonight!”
Laughing, Rozelle smirked at him. “Oh don’t you even, baby boy. Just try and deny you’re having a good time.”
He couldn’t and he knew it, so he remained silent and concentrated on the magical being twisting around in front of him. The very non-regulation nightstick – which looked to be a good four inches longer than necessary – was twirled about artistically and discarded to the side. No throwing that one into the audience, Wes noted. Officer Friendly’s fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, standing it up straight before he smoothed the shirt beneath his hands. With a sound tug, the entire thing ripped away, exposing a lean expanse of dark, neatly muscled skin beneath. Wes felt his mouth fall open and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.
A giggling Dakota reached over and tilted his hanging jaw upwards. “He’s mighty fine, isn’t he?”
Licking his lips, Wes nodded, unsure of how to reply.
“Thought so,” she laughed.
Officer Friendly reached for the button on his close to standard issue patrol pants and the crowd lost its collective mind. Smirking, he shook a finger at the crowd, admonishing their bad behavior. Turning his back to the crowd – and getting playfully booed while he did so – he mimed unbuttoning his pants, all while looking over his shoulder at the expectant faces watching him. It was a ploy, Wes knew, Friendly was egging them all on. Even so, he couldn’t help but get caught up in the fervor. The urge to join in with the hooting and hollering of the men around him, as well as the women sharing his table, was overwhelming.
Strutting around until he faced the audience, Officer Friendly worked his way back to the front of the stage again, that panty-melting smile firmly in place. His thumbs worked at the button on his pants, flicking and tugging, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. He rolled his bare shoulders and gave a frisky shrug before taking hold of his pant legs and ripping. The material came loose and the room exploded with noise. Wes found himself cheering right along with the rest of them as Friendly strode around the stage in nothing but a royal blue thong. Looking closer, he corrected himself. How this man had managed it, he had no idea, but that lone piece of cloth covering what was left of the stripper’s modesty was very, very close to what was affectionately called LAPD Navy. The color of the Los Angeles Police Department.
“Well, he obviously prides himself on accuracy,” he muttered. “I wonder if they’re wool.”
“What was that, Wes?” Dakota turned to him, curious.
He was about to tell her ‘nothing’ when Officer Friendly pulled the microphone from the stand and came back out into the middle of the stage. “So, I’m guessing by your reaction there that you’re enjoying the show?” The crowd let out an uproar that could only be taken as an affirmative answer. “Glad to hear it because it’s not over yet, folks.”
Wes didn’t understand how that could be. There’d been at least four acts before Officer Friendly who, obviously, was the main event. Friendly had been on stage for a good ten minutes at this point, so what could possibly be left? He considered asking one of the women on the off chance they’d been to one of these places before. As luck – or fate – would have it, he got his answer before he could even ask the question.
“Every now and then, we get a special request,” Officer Friendly was saying. “Engagements, divorces, that kind of thing. But tonight, we have a very important event to celebrate. A birthday boy is among us.”
“Oh for the love of god,” Wes whimpered, head dropping to the table. “No.”
“Oh yes,” Dakota squealed into his ear. “Emma put in a request on your behalf tonight.”
“What?” He lifted his head up and glared at the women around him. “What made you even think that I’d be interested in something like this?”
“We didn’t,” Emma said. “Not until Mr. Friendly came by the table and your eyes popped out of your pretty little face.”
And he’d thought he’d covered that so well, too. Secondary note to self: work on controlling your damn emotions.
“Oh boy,” Maggie crowed, causing Wes to look up.
Holy hell, Officer Friendly was coming towards them. Wearing nothing but a thong and that million dollar smile.
“So, birthday boy, you ready for your present? I’ve got it all wrapped up, nice and neat for you.”
Wes could feel the color drain from his face. Confusion consumed him only to have desire beat confusion in the nuts in return. He could analyze his reaction to this delicious stripper later, but for now, his body was telling him to roll with it. Downing the last half of his fruity cocktail in two gulps, he nodded and allowed Officer Friendly to take his hand.
Not that Dakota hadn’t been pushing him out of the seat as it was, making it easier to be drawn to his feet. Better not to make a scene, he figured. He could always blame it on the alcohol later, if he needed to.
“What’s your name,” the stripper asked, taking him around to where the stairs were hidden.
“Wes,” he whispered, unable to lift his voice any more than that.
“Nice,” he grinned. “Travis. Just so you know who to call out to in your fantasies later.”
If Travis wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d seen in ages, Wes would have turned around and walked away right then. But when he considered the fact that this stripper was bound to star in his fantasies for many nights to come, how could he argue? “Lovely to meet you, Travis. How badly do you plan on humiliating me tonight?”
Travis helped him onto stage and frowned. “I don’t humiliate people. Or, at least, I don’t try to. Let me know if you get too embarrassed and I’ll find a way to get you off stage. Okay?”
Wes nodded, it was the best he could do under the circumstances.
“Great. Now have a seat on the chair.”
Wes looked in the direction Travis was pointing and his heart sunk. There was a chair sitting dead center with spotlights aimed directly on it. “Wait… what’s about to happen?”
“A lap dance for the birthday boy, what else?” Travis flashed that smile that made him weak in the knees and he knew he was helpless to do resist.
He gave the chair another look and a wave of excitement-laced fear washed through him. “Okay.”
Travis led Wes to the chair and made sure the birthday boy was comfortable. Music started up again and the Officer Friendly persona fell back into place. It was rather fascinating to watch Travis morph into the character he played even if it made Wes a little sad to lose that personal connection he had felt building between them.
“So now we have lovely little Wes who is having a birthday tonight. Can we wish him a happy birthday?”
The entire crowd chorused ‘happy birthday’ and he could clearly hear the distinct voices of the women he’d come along with. The same ones who’d gotten him drunk and set him up. It was a good thing it was Friday because it was going to take him a few days to sober up and get past this.
“Ah, you hear that, Wes? We all want you to have a happy birthday. And what are birthdays without presents?”
The music kicked up into a snappy beat and Officer Friendly straddled his lap, resting only part of his weight on Wes’ legs. Travis smoothed the flats of his hands down the front of Wes’ suit jacket, and Wes tensed. Rozelle hadn’t given him a chance to go home and change, so he was still fully dressed as a detective would be – suit, handcuffs, gun and all. Travis must’ve sensed Wes’ stress and moved his hands down his sides and back, fingers dipping inside his suit jacket.
“Travis,” he whispered, desperate to stop the stripper before he stumbled across something he shouldn’t.
Something jangled at Wes’ side. “You brought your own handcuffs and you were worried about being embarrassed on stage,” Travis muttered into his ear as he slowly moved his body against Wes’.
“As farfetched as it might sound,” Wes said, fighting to keep the groan inside, “I really am an officer of the law. Try and keep your hand above my waist on the left side.”
Travis ran a hand through Wes’ short blond hair, mussing it. “You brought your gun to a strip joint? Man, are you nuts?”
“Not usually but one of those psycho women from my single’s group hijacked me as I was leaving the station tonight. I didn’t get a chance to unarm myself.”
The stripper’s chuckles vibrated through Wes’ body. “Now that’s some funny shit. Four women bringing a guy to a gay strip club.”
“Tell me about it,” he grunted, arching into Travis’ body against his will.
Officer Friendly dipped his head towards Wes, rubbing his nose into the crook of his neck. Wes’ fingers flexed and he grabbed the underside of the chair he was in. Although he’d never been one to frequent places like this, there was one rule everyone knew: no touching allowed. And the longer Travis sat in his lap, grinding against his body, the harder that rule became to obey. The same could be said for his cock.
“Travis,” Wes said, eyes closed and his head thrown back.
“You had enough, baby?” He made a little tsk sound at the back of his throat. “That is a damn shame.”
“I could let you do this all night,” he admitted. “But if you don’t want me to get thrown out of her for grabbing your perfect ass, you might want to back off a bit.”
That glorious, deep chuckle rumbled through his bones again. “It’s been awhile, huh?”
“Never with a man,” he said, again admitting to things he never thought to say aloud. “But by god you are amazing.”
“I’ll let you off the hook if you promise me one thing,” Travis said, swirling his hips from side to side.
“Anything. Just don’t let me embarrass myself up here,” Wes begged.
“Meet me at Josie’s Grill at half past eleven. I get a two hour break from eleven until one.”
His words were hot against Wes’ damp skin and the contrast sent a chill through his body. Of all the things he’d expected to happen tonight, this was the farthest from his expectations. Instinctively, he knew he should say no, bow out and go the hell home, but something egged him on. “Okay. Eleven-thirty. I’ll wait for you there.”
“Good boy,” Travis teased. Giving one last bit of excitement to the crowd, his hands trailed back up Wes’ chest, slipping around his neck. Fingers played at the edge of blond hair just above Wes’ collar. Travis’ groin skated across the surface of Wes’ hips, giving the crowd an eyeful of everything Travis was packing inside that tiny, tiny thong. With a final thrust, he leaned forward and planted a long, wet kiss right on Wes’ mouth.
And then he got up.
“Let’s hear it for the birthday boy again.” The crowd cheered and broke into a chorus of the birthday song, serenading him loudly. Travis strode back over, held out his hand, and pulled Wes to his feet. “Don’t you dare stand me up later,” he said, voice only partially threatening. “You don’t want to get on Officer Friendly’s bad side.”
“So much for being friendly,” Wes tossed back, walking away on shaky knees, Travis at his side.
The emcee came out of the shadows and announced that was the end of this performance, but if you came back at one o’clock there’d be one final show for all to see. Travis walked Wes as far as the stairs before winking and allowing him to wobble back to his table alone. And hard as he’d ever been.
“Oh my god,” Dakota was shouting as he approached the table. “How awesome was that? He is sooo gorgeous.”
Wes slid into his seat and checked his watch. “I gave you my promised hour,” he said, praying that no one noticed the large lump in the front of his pants. “Can I get out of here now?”
“Aww,” Rozelle teased, “but the fun’s just beginning. The last show is always the best.”
Emma turned a compassionate gaze on him. “Let the poor boy go, he’s been more than a good sport.”
“She’s got a point,” Maggie agreed. “I expected him to bolt the minute we got here. That he sat through a lap dance? He gets bonus points.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying not to sound anxious. Or seem too obvious.
“Oh okay,” Rozelle said finally. “You were a good sport, Wes. Thank you.”
He shook his head. “No, thank you all for getting me out of the house and back into the world.” Standing, Wes reached for his wallet. “I owe you guys anything for all these drinks?”
Dakota held up a hand. “It’s your birthday, Wes. It’s on us. All of it.”
“Thank you,” he said again, meaning it. “I’ll see you guys at the next meeting.”
“Maybe,” Rozelle said, an evil grin crossing her face.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, if you’re not still single by the time we meet again…” She let her voice trail off, the emphasis hanging in the air.
“You are not funny. I’m going home to get some sleep.” He knew they’d never buy it, but at this point? He didn’t even care. Wes had a sort of date with a very, very good looking man and he could not be late.
Wes hadn’t lied when he told Travis he’d never been on a date with a man, but he was beginning to understand he’d never really been opposed to the idea either. It helped to know that Officer Friendly probably wasn’t looking for a relationship. What was more likely was that he didn’t want to eat alone again tonight and thought the gullible birthday boy would be a prime target. Guilty as charged.
Travis arrived at precisely eleven thirty-four and looked even more delicious in street clothes than he had in his LAPD blue thong. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he slid into the opposite side of the booth. “I get ambushed outside the club sometimes.”
“I bet,” Wes said, understanding. Had he had the balls, he’d have been one of the horde standing outside waiting for a minute of his time. “Who could blame them?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Heh,” Travis chuckled. “I think I like you, blondie.”
Blushing, Wes picked up the menu and looked without seeing. “What’s good here?”
Pulling the menu out of Wes’ hand, Travis said, “It’s all good, but with how much you had to drink tonight? I’d suggest coffee and the turkey brie sandwich.”
“Oddly enough, after I stumbled off stage, I felt blazingly sober,” he chuckled.
“The lights will do that to you,” Travis agreed, motioning for the waitress. She arrived and he placed their orders, sending her off to bring a carafe of coffee.
Wes waited until the waitress was out of sight before responding. “I figured it was the embarrassment that did it.”
“Could be,” Travis agreed. “So, you’re really a damn cop? What are the chances?”
He pulled his badge out of his pocket and flashed it at Travis. “Sure am and I almost laughed out loud when you told Rozelle what your stage name was. What is it with strippers pretending to be first responders?”
Travis shrugged, accepting a cup of coffee from the waitress. “It’s what women seem to like,” he said. “They’re attracted to strong men with an air of authority. It stands to reason that gay men might be, too.”
It made sense to him. Heaven only knows, he’d had his share of run ins with wanna be badge bunnies over the years. Not all women were like that, of course. He’d also run into a few female cop haters over the years, too. “So you went with the hottest stereotype?”
That smile followed by another chuckle. “I had thought so,” he admitted. “And then I saw you and now I realize it’s not exactly a stereotype, is it?”
Wes looked at the table top for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you find cops hot?”
“No, I’m saying I find you to be one hell of a hot cop,” he corrected. “And if you don’t hate me by the end of this meal, I’d love to see you again. If you’re game.”
Oh god was he ever. It’d been a long time since he’d even had the prospect of a date. “As long as you understand this is new for me and promise not to give me crap for being awkward.”
“Can you be any more awkward, Wes?”
Good question. “I want to say no, but I’m afraid I’d be lying.”
“Cute and funny,” Travis said as the waitress brought their food. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Possibly more.”
“I can drink to that,” Wes said, lifting half of his gooey toasted sandwich.
“And eat, too,” Travis added, munching on a fry.
Three carafes of coffee and an hour and a half later, Travis announced he had to get back work. Wes felt his heart sink at the prospect of going home alone again. Not that he had any intention of sleeping with Travis so soon after meeting him, but still, it stung to know he leaving the same way he arrived – by himself.
“So, what do you think about doing this again next Friday?” Travis had turned those brilliant blue eyes on him.
“Can you promise me no more lap dances?” Wes toyed with the salt shaker, heart thundering in his chest.
“I can promise that your next lap dance will be completely private, does that work?”
The invitation in his words caused an unusual stirring in his belly. “I think we can work with that.”
“So you’ll come again on Friday?” Travis’ smile this time was hopeful, more subdued. “I can leave your name at the front so you don’t have to fork over the cover charge. You can even bring one of your crazy friends if you like.”
Oh hell no. There wasn’t a chance on earth he was bringing any of those nut jobs back with him. “Of course I’ll come. I’d be an idiot to turn down an opportunity to ogle your mostly naked body, Officer Friendly.”
Travis reached a hand across the table and curled his fingers around Wes’. “I’ll see you on Friday then.” Wes nodded and Travis lifted his fingers to his mouth, giving the blond’s knuckles a quick kiss before letting go. “Now I really have to get out of here.”
Wes stood. “Of course, I don’t want you to be late.”
“It’s all good,” Travis said, standing and motioning towards the door. “Walk me out?” Again, Wes nodded. Travis took his hand and led him to the front of the restaurant. They stopped in front of a sliver pickup, clean and sparkling in the moonlight. “This is mine. You promise you’re going to show?”
“I promise,” Wes said, startled as his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Crap. I hate calls on a Friday night. They never bring good news.”
“You better answer that then, good news or not.” Travis pinched one of Wes’ pale cheeks and waved. “Friday. Eight o’clock. Don’t you dare be late.”
Wes’ phone buzzed again, but he ignored it, unable to take his eyes off Travis. Only after the truck had disappeared down the road did he chance a look at the screen.
Text message from Rozelle.
Great. He thumbed the screen to unlock it.
You have a shitload of explaining to do, mister. But I hope you enjoyed yourself.
Wes grinned. She had no idea.
…to be continued.
Fandom: Common Law
Pairing: Travis Marks + Wes Mitchell
Rating: NC-17. Mild nudity and suggestive content.
Word Count: 7,269
Summary: In a world where Travis and Wes aren’t partners, Wes no longer needs couple’s therapy. Instead, he seeks out a group of another sort – a single’s support group. The therapy girls become single girls and all hell breaks loose. But where’s Travis?
Author’s Note: A birthday present for
peppermint_wow. Although Common Law is not one of her fandoms, since she so eagerly enabled me with this prompt, it is my gift to her. Enjoy honey (and there will be more, I promise. But after writing nearly 4k words yesterday and seeing no end in sight, I had to stop before my fingers cramped.)“Girl, you know you need a night out,” the sharp dressed African-American woman said, poking the blond in the shoulder. “You’re a cop, for crying out loud. Do you ever get a night off?”
The blond looked at her and chuckled, self-deprecatingly. He hated it when the girls turned their attention on him and his desperately lonely situation. They at least had a shot at getting a man where his chances were slim and none – and he’d heard Slim had just left town. “Rozelle, please. We’ve had this discussion before. The job has to come first. What I do, as a detective, is more important than my social life.”
“Right,” she said, not quite believing him. “And how long are you going to use that excuse?”
Wes opened his mouth to respond and Dakota’s voice exited. Blinking, he turned to the dark-haired cutie and waited for her to weigh in on the situation. Because she would. Dakota couldn’t help herself. She meant well, but she had a tendency to be a busybody when it came to the rest of their relationships.
“He’s going to keep on using his job as a shield from here to eternity,” Dakota said, a smile softening the harshness of her proclamation. “We need to get him out and shake him up, don’t you think?”
“Oh you know it,” Rozelle agreed. “You think we could get Maggie to go out with us Friday?”
Maggie was the oldest member of their group – a group of lonely women (and one very lonely, very reluctant man) looking for their soulmates – and not often prone to journeying out with the younger women. Er, people.
He really did need to get out more if he was going to continue to refer to himself in the feminine.
“Have you ever asked Emma to join you on your girl’s night out?” Wes had been curious about this for a long time. Emma Ryan was their group leader and self-proclaimed happiness seeker. She believed in finding joy where it lay – and reminding everyone that it didn’t necessarily reside within a man’s arms. While she wasn’t opposed to finding her life partner, she was also very cautious not to ever put all her happiness eggs in one basket.
Dakota tilted her head to the side. “I think we asked her once or twice, but she’s never come along. Neither has Maggie, but that I understand. We’re all a good twenty years younger than she is.”
“Emma’s our age though,” Rozelle added.
“True.” Dakota frowned for a long moment. “Guess we should go inside then, huh? It’s almost time.”
Wes checked his watch. It was actually a minute past, but the women harassed him anytime he corrected them on things like that. “Indeed. After you ladies.”
“Thanks, Wes,” Dakota said, slipping past him into the room they used for their group.
“And we can finish this talk later, mister, because you’re not off the hook yet,” Rozelle said. “Oh, and thanks. You can be quite the gentleman when you want to be.”
He smiled his appreciation, although his manners hadn’t ever gotten him anywhere. By the time he’d gotten to his seat in the little makeshift gym, Emma was already well into her feel good speech of the evening. She started every meeting off this way in the belief that if they started on an up note, they’d finish on an up note. And leaving the group with a positive attitude put good vibes into the universe.
Wes doubted that, but he’d been raised better than to dash others’ hopes on the rocks of his own pessimism. So he endured the twice-weekly get-togethers with a forced smile and the reminder that it was two hours a week he didn’t spend alone or at work. Or both, since his partner – Detective Wilson Hart – couldn’t be bothered to show up on time these days. If he showed up at all. It was enough to make a boy crazy. Sighing, he checked his watch.
That caught Emma’s attention. “Wes,” she asked in her charming, British accent. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
In bed? “No,” he said, trying to ease the hurt he’d inadvertently caused in this kind, if flighty woman. “I worked late and haven’t eaten since breakfast. Forgive me if I’m a bit antsy to get out of here tonight.”
Emma nodded, accepting his lie as truth. Rozelle and Dakota, on the other hand, glared at him from the other side of their happy circle. He gave a half shrug, not really ashamed of his little white lie. Tonight, he really wished he were anywhere but here.
By the grace of god or some other benevolent being, he made it through the meeting and slipped out ahead of the girls. Wes promised himself that he’d make it up to them on Thursday, when the group next met, but tonight, he just couldn’t do it. The call he’d gotten from his mother earlier had put him on edge and had kept him there all day.
Wes wished the talks with his mother were like those of any other son, but unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky. Instead of meaningless but loving chit chat about work, his friends, any possible special someones, his conversations were relegated to lectures on all the mistakes he’d ever made. There were times when he began to believe that his biggest mistake had been that of being born. However, his mother disagreed. For her, his decision to leave law to become a police officer went above and beyond every other mistake he’d ever had the misfortune of owning. He often thought that he could commit murder and her response would be, “Well, if you’d stayed in law, maybe you could have afforded a better lawyer.”
Don’t get him wrong, he loved his mother, but her insistence that he’d screwed up grated on his nerves. He’d failed a client and he’d sent an innocent man to jail. How could he, in good conscience, still practice law after such a serious and heinous mistake? As far as he was concerned, he couldn’t. Sadly, his ex-wife, Alex, had sided with his mother and divorced him.
Ah, but Alex was another story altogether, one he wasn’t ready to delve into tonight. Or any night.
The buzzing of his phone brought him out of his dreary thoughts. Checking the screen he had a message from Rozelle. Great.
Look blondie, I know you snuck out on us and I’ll let it go this time. But only because I know Friday’s your birthday.
How the hell did she know that? Shaking his head, he texted her back.
And your point is?
She must’ve been the fastest texter he’d ever known because it felt like he’d barely finished his response when her reply lit up his cell.
My point is, you need to get out. Miss D and I are taking you out. Friday. No excuses. You hear me, Wes?
He had to admit, he was a tiny bit frightened of the petite lady. She had the air of a woman who could bring a man to his knees with her pinky finger. It was a theory he’d rather keep as a theory.
Fine. You get an hour and then I’m out.
He waited for her reply and it took longer than he’d expected. She and Dakota were probably colluding in a restaurant somewhere.
Okay, but we’ll make sure you won’t want to leave when your hour’s up.
Good luck with that, he thought.
Friday came and went like any other day of the year. His partner had had no idea it was his birthday, and Wes wasn’t about the one to tell him otherwise. Sad as it sounded, he was better off if he never got used to anyone making a fuss over him. Alex had been the last person to even remember his birthday and those days were better left unremembered. It was just past five o’clock when he left the precinct, bound and determined to put the day behind him. Five stairs down, he ran into a very familiar, opposing figure who was apparently waiting for him.
“Rozelle?” He was dumbfounded, to say the least. “Why are you here? You’re not in any trouble are you?” Wes didn’t figure he could help her much even if she was, but the protective instinct inside him, the one that had insisted he become a cop in the first place, required he at least ask.
A sassy smile kicked up one side of her face. “Oh no, quite the opposite. I was making sure you didn’t decide to ‘forget’ about your date with Dakota, Emma, and I tonight.”
“Emma’s coming?” This was a shock, to say the least. She never came out with the rest of them. “Wow.”
“Yep,” she said, slipping her arm through his and guiding him to the parking lot. “Even Maggie agreed once Dakota told her where we were going.”
That didn’t sound good. “So,” he said, trying for casual, “where are we going?”
“Nuh-uh,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “Not telling. You’re just going to have to follow me. And if you try and get yourself lost, Mr. Detective? I’ll hunt you down. Got me?”
He did. “Yes ma’am.”
“Good, let’s go. We’re meeting the girls for dinner first.”
Dinner he could handle. On the other hand, it had been nearly two years since he’d had dinner with a female he wasn’t related to or working with. To say he was out of practice would be stretching the truth. This could turn into an utter disaster if he didn’t keep his mouth in check.
Dakota stood and squeezed him, hard, the minute he and Rozelle approached the table. “I wanted to be the one to come get you,” she said, nearly breathless with excitement. “But Rozelle was afraid you’d intimidate me. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t afraid of you, but she wouldn’t listen.” She gave him another enthusiastic hug before wishing him a happy birthday and releasing him. The rest of the group followed with birthday wishes and unwarranted assaults on his personal space.
The ladies insisted he have at least one birthday drink before they headed out to their final destination for the night. Wes supposed it was to loosen him up enough so that he actually agreed to whatever they’d plotted for his celebration that night. Against his better judgement, he ordered a scotch and soda, proceeding to nurse it until their food arrived.
Much to his surprise, this little get together hadn’t started out to be as awful as he was afraid it might. The conversation was lighthearted and pleasant, not the kind of discussions you got when a couple cops had dinner together. And when those cops were homicide detectives? Yeah, well, he often wondered how he ever had the stomach to keep food down when he and his partner shared a meal.
“Wes?”
He looked up from his nearly empty plate and realized Dakota had been talking to him. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked what you looked for in a woman. In general, anyway.” She looked at the ladies around her and shrugged, unapologetic. “None of us can seem to find a decent guy and here we have a decent guy right in front of us. I got to wondering if maybe none of us were the gentlemanly ideal.”
Wes was stunned. No matter what he said or how he answered this question, it was sure to cause hurt feelings somewhere along the lines. Honesty was the best policy and he decided to take that route, come hell or high water. “Truthfully? I just want an honest, intelligent woman with enough patience to stick with a man who works fourteen hours a day and comes home smelling like a dead body in the summer.” Dakota wrinkled her nose and he smiled. “As far as all of you go, there’s not a thing wrong with you. Beautiful, intelligent, charming ladies, every one of you. It’s the men who are idiots because most of them are looking for unobtainable ideal. Gorgeous, busty, and willing to put up with all of his bad habits.” He laughed, and the sound was more disbelieving than amused. “Fools.”
“Isn’t he the sweetest,” Dakota cooed. “Almost makes me feel bad for what we’re about to do to him.”
“What?” Wes looked around at the grinning faces and felt his heart sink. He was in so much trouble.
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” Emma said, her lilting British accent making the words sound much less ominous than they felt.
This wasn’t going to end well. The thought was beginning to become a mantra for him, it seemed.
Wes had obediently climbed into his car and followed the girls out of the parking lot. Dakota had tried to sneak into the passenger’s seat on the off chance he’d find a way to get lost on the way to their destination. She hadn’t been sneaky enough, however, and he’d caught her in the act with enough time to deposit her in the backseat of Rozelle’s sporty little sedan. After swearing he’d give them the hour he’d promised, he was allowed to drive himself to his own funeral. Or party, whichever.
“Why do I have the feeling they’re taking me to a strip club,” he muttered, staring out the windshield at the glowing taillights of the car ahead of him. He could see the women laughing and gesturing inside. They were bound to have a good time at least. But what was the point in taking a man along with them?
“I’m going to kill all four of them with my bare hands if we wind up at a freaking strip club.” He’d been told by his partner that female strippers loved it when couples came into the clubs, and it made him wonder if the men felt the same way. The thought that he was being set up to be used by this group of women he’d not only come to like, but to also trust, had him feeling some conflicting emotions. On one hand, it infuriated him. However, on the other… these women had been through hell over the last few years and if he could help them have a good time, why not?
This rationalization didn’t help in the least when he pulled into the parking lot of Woody’s Cockpit. It took a moment before comprehension struck and the groan echoed off the walls of his car. “Oh dear god, no.” A tap on his window startled Wes out of his despair. Rolling it down, he came face-to-face with Dakota’s grin. “Why are we here?”
She looked over her shoulder, licking her lips. “Well… since none of us can find someone, we thought we’d all go somewhere where there weren’t any expectations. You know, so none of us would leave disappointed?”
“And so an all-male gay strip club was your answer?” Wes was incredulous. And just a tiny bit intrigued. What the hell was going on in his brain today?
Again, Dakota shrugged. “Why the heck not,” she giggled. “Come on, you’re going to be the hit of the party anyway.”
Reluctantly, Wes unhooked his seat belt and rolled the window up. Opening the door, he asked, “Why on earth do you think it’ll be me and not the four crazy drunk women?”
“Because you’re adorable,” Rozelle said from behind him. “And just the kind of man these boys are going to go nuts for.”
“You think I’m a twink,” he sighed. “That’s rather offensive, and I’m not even gay enough to be offended.” Wait.
“Not ‘gay enough’,” Emma echoed.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, not even sure why he’d said it at all. “I just meant –”
“You thought we were insinuating you were gay and would attract all the pretty boys to our table,” Rozelle interrupted. “Which we were, sort of.”
“We like you no matter what, Wes,” Dakota added.
Wes sighed. Truth of the matter was, he’d never even thought about it. He’d met Alex during law school and, considering the amount of time he spent studying, he was thankful to have kept her. There had been no free time for dating or getting to know people. So, once they’d graduated, getting married had seemed like the right thing to do.
Sadly, he’d been so very, very wrong about that.
Could he be attracted to a man? It was an interesting thought to be honest. He supposed it would depend on the man, just like it did with the woman. Although he’d always assumed he was strictly heterosexual, not every female he encountered was attractive to him. So why wouldn’t there be a chance that he might actually be drawn to a man? All these questions without answers. He made a mental note to ask the medical examiner to run a tox screen on him. It was beginning to feel like someone had slipped him something, because he’d lost control of his thoughts lately.
“We’ve lost him again,” Maggie chuckled. “Earth to Wes.”
Blinking, he gave them something almost close to a smile. “Sorry.”
“No apologies allowed,” Rozelle said, sliding her arm through his again. “And stop thinking about her. She’s not worth your time, remember?”
“Right,” he said, not really believing the woman.
The inside of the club hadn’t been what he’d expected. Where were the flashing lights and loud music? Not to mention all the half-naked men? Rozelle tugged on his arm and led them all to a crescent shaped booth near the stage. “I’ve got a friend who works here,” she was saying. “And he hooked us up with some good seats.”
Just what he wanted. A front row seat to the show. Speaking of which… “It’s much quieter in here than I had expected.”
Rozelle laughed. “Next show begins in ten minutes. You’ll get what you’re expecting then. For now? We drink.”
The ladies filed into the booth, giving Wes the honor of having an easy escape route should things get hairy. A waiter dressed in nothing but a pair of tight fitting blue jeans and a bow tie around his neck arrived at their table to take drink orders. His chest muscles glistened under the bright lights and Wes wondered if it was from sweat or something he rubbed onto himself before his shift.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Dakota said. “Yuuummy.”
“Totally,” Emma agreed. “All those rippling muscles glittering under the lights. Wow.”
Wes watched the waiter walk away. “He’s a bit too beefy, don’t you think?” He looked around at the women and shook his head. “All muscle and no brains.”
“Says the scrawny boy,” a deep voice teased.
Wes looked up and ran smack dab into the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen in his lifetime. “I’m not scrawny, I’m lean.”
“I bet you are,” the dark-skinned hunk agreed. “Ladies, and gentleman, the show is about to start. Enjoy.”
“Wait,” Rozelle said, catching the man’s attention. “What’s your stage name so we know to watch for you.”
“Friendly,” he said, winking at Wes. “Officer Friendly.”
The ladies howled with glee as Officer Friendly strode off towards the stage. “Oh, did you hear that, Wes? He’s an officer just like you.”
“He’s nothing like me,” Wes muttered, taking a long draw off the fruity drink the girls had ordered him. Apparently the place didn’t serve scotch, just his luck. But it obviously served hotties up by the pitcher.
“Oh shush up and enjoy the pretty man’s attention, Wes.” Dakota. Of course, because she would totally live through him vicariously if she could.
“Excuse me,” Emma said, getting Rozelle to let her out of the booth. “Gotta tinkle, be right back.”
“She must be the fastest female tinkler ever,” Wes said, seeing her return moments later. “Neither my mother, my sister nor any other woman I’ve ever known has hit the restroom that fast. Ever.”
“This is a gay club,” Maggie reminded him. “There’s probably never a line in the ladies’ room.”
It made sense, but it still didn’t add up. “If you say so.”
The lights flashed three times. “I do, and now hush up. Like Officer Friendly said, the show’s about to start.”
Three dancers in and four drinks later, Wes was finally enjoying himself. He’d let himself off the hook regarding his ‘one hour and I’m gone’ promise. Even though he was pretty sure it was the alcohol, he decided to attribute his good mood to the company he was keeping. The girls were laughing and screeching like a bunch of teenagers seeing their first mostly-naked man. Watching them was nearly as much fun as watching the gorgeous men gyrating around on stage.
Which was something else that had surprised him. Finding himself interested in the men’s bodies, and comparing them to the ones that came after hadn’t thrown any red flags. He’d been in enough locker rooms in high school and while on the force to be comfortable with that level of examination. The thing that had made him uncomfortable, however, was that he had been holding every last one of them to the standards set by one Mister Officer Friendly.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
“And now gentlemen,” the handsome little thing that had been emceeing the show announced, “and our four very special ladies we have here tonight, it is now the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” He paused and let the cheering escalate to enormous proportions. “That’s right, it’s time for everyone’s favorite law enforcement icon – Officer Friendly!”
Wes’ ears were assaulted with loud music and his eyes shut against the crazy flashing lights when a familiar silhouette stepped onto stage. As the blue-eyed hunk reached center stage, the flashing stopped and spotlights focused on him solely. The music dimmed a notch and the stripper grinned out at the screaming crowd. It was obvious he was the club’s favorite act. Officer Friendly’s eyes skimmed along the faces nodding at ones he found familiar. His gaze skipped across Wes’ face and immediately jerked back long enough to wink and move on.
Blinking, Wes watched Officer Friendly as he worked the crowd, telling them all the things they loved to hear. As far as Wes was concerned, it was that smile that did him in. Forget those rock hard abs and that dynamite ass. It was the broad and genuine grin, full of perfect, white teeth, that was so attractive. Friendly finished priming the crowd and put the microphone back into its holster, nodding towards the sound booth. Music flooded the room again and in minutes, Wes was lost in the rhythm.
Friendly swung his hips and shook his ass, discarding his clothes piece by piece. First was the fake patrolman’s hat that he flung into the audience. Wes jumped when it landed soundly on the table in front of him. He tore his eyes from the mesmerizing sight on stage and glanced at the hat. Redirecting his eyes to the man impersonating a cop on said stage, he found himself rewarded with a blazing bright smile and another flirty wink.
“Ooooh boy,” Rozelle shouted across the table. “I think you’ve got yourself and admirer there, Wes.”
“No,” he shouted back. “I think the guy feels bad for me… since I’m stuck with all of you tonight!”
Laughing, Rozelle smirked at him. “Oh don’t you even, baby boy. Just try and deny you’re having a good time.”
He couldn’t and he knew it, so he remained silent and concentrated on the magical being twisting around in front of him. The very non-regulation nightstick – which looked to be a good four inches longer than necessary – was twirled about artistically and discarded to the side. No throwing that one into the audience, Wes noted. Officer Friendly’s fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, standing it up straight before he smoothed the shirt beneath his hands. With a sound tug, the entire thing ripped away, exposing a lean expanse of dark, neatly muscled skin beneath. Wes felt his mouth fall open and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.
A giggling Dakota reached over and tilted his hanging jaw upwards. “He’s mighty fine, isn’t he?”
Licking his lips, Wes nodded, unsure of how to reply.
“Thought so,” she laughed.
Officer Friendly reached for the button on his close to standard issue patrol pants and the crowd lost its collective mind. Smirking, he shook a finger at the crowd, admonishing their bad behavior. Turning his back to the crowd – and getting playfully booed while he did so – he mimed unbuttoning his pants, all while looking over his shoulder at the expectant faces watching him. It was a ploy, Wes knew, Friendly was egging them all on. Even so, he couldn’t help but get caught up in the fervor. The urge to join in with the hooting and hollering of the men around him, as well as the women sharing his table, was overwhelming.
Strutting around until he faced the audience, Officer Friendly worked his way back to the front of the stage again, that panty-melting smile firmly in place. His thumbs worked at the button on his pants, flicking and tugging, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. He rolled his bare shoulders and gave a frisky shrug before taking hold of his pant legs and ripping. The material came loose and the room exploded with noise. Wes found himself cheering right along with the rest of them as Friendly strode around the stage in nothing but a royal blue thong. Looking closer, he corrected himself. How this man had managed it, he had no idea, but that lone piece of cloth covering what was left of the stripper’s modesty was very, very close to what was affectionately called LAPD Navy. The color of the Los Angeles Police Department.
“Well, he obviously prides himself on accuracy,” he muttered. “I wonder if they’re wool.”
“What was that, Wes?” Dakota turned to him, curious.
He was about to tell her ‘nothing’ when Officer Friendly pulled the microphone from the stand and came back out into the middle of the stage. “So, I’m guessing by your reaction there that you’re enjoying the show?” The crowd let out an uproar that could only be taken as an affirmative answer. “Glad to hear it because it’s not over yet, folks.”
Wes didn’t understand how that could be. There’d been at least four acts before Officer Friendly who, obviously, was the main event. Friendly had been on stage for a good ten minutes at this point, so what could possibly be left? He considered asking one of the women on the off chance they’d been to one of these places before. As luck – or fate – would have it, he got his answer before he could even ask the question.
“Every now and then, we get a special request,” Officer Friendly was saying. “Engagements, divorces, that kind of thing. But tonight, we have a very important event to celebrate. A birthday boy is among us.”
“Oh for the love of god,” Wes whimpered, head dropping to the table. “No.”
“Oh yes,” Dakota squealed into his ear. “Emma put in a request on your behalf tonight.”
“What?” He lifted his head up and glared at the women around him. “What made you even think that I’d be interested in something like this?”
“We didn’t,” Emma said. “Not until Mr. Friendly came by the table and your eyes popped out of your pretty little face.”
And he’d thought he’d covered that so well, too. Secondary note to self: work on controlling your damn emotions.
“Oh boy,” Maggie crowed, causing Wes to look up.
Holy hell, Officer Friendly was coming towards them. Wearing nothing but a thong and that million dollar smile.
“So, birthday boy, you ready for your present? I’ve got it all wrapped up, nice and neat for you.”
Wes could feel the color drain from his face. Confusion consumed him only to have desire beat confusion in the nuts in return. He could analyze his reaction to this delicious stripper later, but for now, his body was telling him to roll with it. Downing the last half of his fruity cocktail in two gulps, he nodded and allowed Officer Friendly to take his hand.
Not that Dakota hadn’t been pushing him out of the seat as it was, making it easier to be drawn to his feet. Better not to make a scene, he figured. He could always blame it on the alcohol later, if he needed to.
“What’s your name,” the stripper asked, taking him around to where the stairs were hidden.
“Wes,” he whispered, unable to lift his voice any more than that.
“Nice,” he grinned. “Travis. Just so you know who to call out to in your fantasies later.”
If Travis wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d seen in ages, Wes would have turned around and walked away right then. But when he considered the fact that this stripper was bound to star in his fantasies for many nights to come, how could he argue? “Lovely to meet you, Travis. How badly do you plan on humiliating me tonight?”
Travis helped him onto stage and frowned. “I don’t humiliate people. Or, at least, I don’t try to. Let me know if you get too embarrassed and I’ll find a way to get you off stage. Okay?”
Wes nodded, it was the best he could do under the circumstances.
“Great. Now have a seat on the chair.”
Wes looked in the direction Travis was pointing and his heart sunk. There was a chair sitting dead center with spotlights aimed directly on it. “Wait… what’s about to happen?”
“A lap dance for the birthday boy, what else?” Travis flashed that smile that made him weak in the knees and he knew he was helpless to do resist.
He gave the chair another look and a wave of excitement-laced fear washed through him. “Okay.”
Travis led Wes to the chair and made sure the birthday boy was comfortable. Music started up again and the Officer Friendly persona fell back into place. It was rather fascinating to watch Travis morph into the character he played even if it made Wes a little sad to lose that personal connection he had felt building between them.
“So now we have lovely little Wes who is having a birthday tonight. Can we wish him a happy birthday?”
The entire crowd chorused ‘happy birthday’ and he could clearly hear the distinct voices of the women he’d come along with. The same ones who’d gotten him drunk and set him up. It was a good thing it was Friday because it was going to take him a few days to sober up and get past this.
“Ah, you hear that, Wes? We all want you to have a happy birthday. And what are birthdays without presents?”
The music kicked up into a snappy beat and Officer Friendly straddled his lap, resting only part of his weight on Wes’ legs. Travis smoothed the flats of his hands down the front of Wes’ suit jacket, and Wes tensed. Rozelle hadn’t given him a chance to go home and change, so he was still fully dressed as a detective would be – suit, handcuffs, gun and all. Travis must’ve sensed Wes’ stress and moved his hands down his sides and back, fingers dipping inside his suit jacket.
“Travis,” he whispered, desperate to stop the stripper before he stumbled across something he shouldn’t.
Something jangled at Wes’ side. “You brought your own handcuffs and you were worried about being embarrassed on stage,” Travis muttered into his ear as he slowly moved his body against Wes’.
“As farfetched as it might sound,” Wes said, fighting to keep the groan inside, “I really am an officer of the law. Try and keep your hand above my waist on the left side.”
Travis ran a hand through Wes’ short blond hair, mussing it. “You brought your gun to a strip joint? Man, are you nuts?”
“Not usually but one of those psycho women from my single’s group hijacked me as I was leaving the station tonight. I didn’t get a chance to unarm myself.”
The stripper’s chuckles vibrated through Wes’ body. “Now that’s some funny shit. Four women bringing a guy to a gay strip club.”
“Tell me about it,” he grunted, arching into Travis’ body against his will.
Officer Friendly dipped his head towards Wes, rubbing his nose into the crook of his neck. Wes’ fingers flexed and he grabbed the underside of the chair he was in. Although he’d never been one to frequent places like this, there was one rule everyone knew: no touching allowed. And the longer Travis sat in his lap, grinding against his body, the harder that rule became to obey. The same could be said for his cock.
“Travis,” Wes said, eyes closed and his head thrown back.
“You had enough, baby?” He made a little tsk sound at the back of his throat. “That is a damn shame.”
“I could let you do this all night,” he admitted. “But if you don’t want me to get thrown out of her for grabbing your perfect ass, you might want to back off a bit.”
That glorious, deep chuckle rumbled through his bones again. “It’s been awhile, huh?”
“Never with a man,” he said, again admitting to things he never thought to say aloud. “But by god you are amazing.”
“I’ll let you off the hook if you promise me one thing,” Travis said, swirling his hips from side to side.
“Anything. Just don’t let me embarrass myself up here,” Wes begged.
“Meet me at Josie’s Grill at half past eleven. I get a two hour break from eleven until one.”
His words were hot against Wes’ damp skin and the contrast sent a chill through his body. Of all the things he’d expected to happen tonight, this was the farthest from his expectations. Instinctively, he knew he should say no, bow out and go the hell home, but something egged him on. “Okay. Eleven-thirty. I’ll wait for you there.”
“Good boy,” Travis teased. Giving one last bit of excitement to the crowd, his hands trailed back up Wes’ chest, slipping around his neck. Fingers played at the edge of blond hair just above Wes’ collar. Travis’ groin skated across the surface of Wes’ hips, giving the crowd an eyeful of everything Travis was packing inside that tiny, tiny thong. With a final thrust, he leaned forward and planted a long, wet kiss right on Wes’ mouth.
And then he got up.
“Let’s hear it for the birthday boy again.” The crowd cheered and broke into a chorus of the birthday song, serenading him loudly. Travis strode back over, held out his hand, and pulled Wes to his feet. “Don’t you dare stand me up later,” he said, voice only partially threatening. “You don’t want to get on Officer Friendly’s bad side.”
“So much for being friendly,” Wes tossed back, walking away on shaky knees, Travis at his side.
The emcee came out of the shadows and announced that was the end of this performance, but if you came back at one o’clock there’d be one final show for all to see. Travis walked Wes as far as the stairs before winking and allowing him to wobble back to his table alone. And hard as he’d ever been.
“Oh my god,” Dakota was shouting as he approached the table. “How awesome was that? He is sooo gorgeous.”
Wes slid into his seat and checked his watch. “I gave you my promised hour,” he said, praying that no one noticed the large lump in the front of his pants. “Can I get out of here now?”
“Aww,” Rozelle teased, “but the fun’s just beginning. The last show is always the best.”
Emma turned a compassionate gaze on him. “Let the poor boy go, he’s been more than a good sport.”
“She’s got a point,” Maggie agreed. “I expected him to bolt the minute we got here. That he sat through a lap dance? He gets bonus points.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying not to sound anxious. Or seem too obvious.
“Oh okay,” Rozelle said finally. “You were a good sport, Wes. Thank you.”
He shook his head. “No, thank you all for getting me out of the house and back into the world.” Standing, Wes reached for his wallet. “I owe you guys anything for all these drinks?”
Dakota held up a hand. “It’s your birthday, Wes. It’s on us. All of it.”
“Thank you,” he said again, meaning it. “I’ll see you guys at the next meeting.”
“Maybe,” Rozelle said, an evil grin crossing her face.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, if you’re not still single by the time we meet again…” She let her voice trail off, the emphasis hanging in the air.
“You are not funny. I’m going home to get some sleep.” He knew they’d never buy it, but at this point? He didn’t even care. Wes had a sort of date with a very, very good looking man and he could not be late.
Wes hadn’t lied when he told Travis he’d never been on a date with a man, but he was beginning to understand he’d never really been opposed to the idea either. It helped to know that Officer Friendly probably wasn’t looking for a relationship. What was more likely was that he didn’t want to eat alone again tonight and thought the gullible birthday boy would be a prime target. Guilty as charged.
Travis arrived at precisely eleven thirty-four and looked even more delicious in street clothes than he had in his LAPD blue thong. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he slid into the opposite side of the booth. “I get ambushed outside the club sometimes.”
“I bet,” Wes said, understanding. Had he had the balls, he’d have been one of the horde standing outside waiting for a minute of his time. “Who could blame them?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Heh,” Travis chuckled. “I think I like you, blondie.”
Blushing, Wes picked up the menu and looked without seeing. “What’s good here?”
Pulling the menu out of Wes’ hand, Travis said, “It’s all good, but with how much you had to drink tonight? I’d suggest coffee and the turkey brie sandwich.”
“Oddly enough, after I stumbled off stage, I felt blazingly sober,” he chuckled.
“The lights will do that to you,” Travis agreed, motioning for the waitress. She arrived and he placed their orders, sending her off to bring a carafe of coffee.
Wes waited until the waitress was out of sight before responding. “I figured it was the embarrassment that did it.”
“Could be,” Travis agreed. “So, you’re really a damn cop? What are the chances?”
He pulled his badge out of his pocket and flashed it at Travis. “Sure am and I almost laughed out loud when you told Rozelle what your stage name was. What is it with strippers pretending to be first responders?”
Travis shrugged, accepting a cup of coffee from the waitress. “It’s what women seem to like,” he said. “They’re attracted to strong men with an air of authority. It stands to reason that gay men might be, too.”
It made sense to him. Heaven only knows, he’d had his share of run ins with wanna be badge bunnies over the years. Not all women were like that, of course. He’d also run into a few female cop haters over the years, too. “So you went with the hottest stereotype?”
That smile followed by another chuckle. “I had thought so,” he admitted. “And then I saw you and now I realize it’s not exactly a stereotype, is it?”
Wes looked at the table top for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you find cops hot?”
“No, I’m saying I find you to be one hell of a hot cop,” he corrected. “And if you don’t hate me by the end of this meal, I’d love to see you again. If you’re game.”
Oh god was he ever. It’d been a long time since he’d even had the prospect of a date. “As long as you understand this is new for me and promise not to give me crap for being awkward.”
“Can you be any more awkward, Wes?”
Good question. “I want to say no, but I’m afraid I’d be lying.”
“Cute and funny,” Travis said as the waitress brought their food. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Possibly more.”
“I can drink to that,” Wes said, lifting half of his gooey toasted sandwich.
“And eat, too,” Travis added, munching on a fry.
Three carafes of coffee and an hour and a half later, Travis announced he had to get back work. Wes felt his heart sink at the prospect of going home alone again. Not that he had any intention of sleeping with Travis so soon after meeting him, but still, it stung to know he leaving the same way he arrived – by himself.
“So, what do you think about doing this again next Friday?” Travis had turned those brilliant blue eyes on him.
“Can you promise me no more lap dances?” Wes toyed with the salt shaker, heart thundering in his chest.
“I can promise that your next lap dance will be completely private, does that work?”
The invitation in his words caused an unusual stirring in his belly. “I think we can work with that.”
“So you’ll come again on Friday?” Travis’ smile this time was hopeful, more subdued. “I can leave your name at the front so you don’t have to fork over the cover charge. You can even bring one of your crazy friends if you like.”
Oh hell no. There wasn’t a chance on earth he was bringing any of those nut jobs back with him. “Of course I’ll come. I’d be an idiot to turn down an opportunity to ogle your mostly naked body, Officer Friendly.”
Travis reached a hand across the table and curled his fingers around Wes’. “I’ll see you on Friday then.” Wes nodded and Travis lifted his fingers to his mouth, giving the blond’s knuckles a quick kiss before letting go. “Now I really have to get out of here.”
Wes stood. “Of course, I don’t want you to be late.”
“It’s all good,” Travis said, standing and motioning towards the door. “Walk me out?” Again, Wes nodded. Travis took his hand and led him to the front of the restaurant. They stopped in front of a sliver pickup, clean and sparkling in the moonlight. “This is mine. You promise you’re going to show?”
“I promise,” Wes said, startled as his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Crap. I hate calls on a Friday night. They never bring good news.”
“You better answer that then, good news or not.” Travis pinched one of Wes’ pale cheeks and waved. “Friday. Eight o’clock. Don’t you dare be late.”
Wes’ phone buzzed again, but he ignored it, unable to take his eyes off Travis. Only after the truck had disappeared down the road did he chance a look at the screen.
Text message from Rozelle.
Great. He thumbed the screen to unlock it.
You have a shitload of explaining to do, mister. But I hope you enjoyed yourself.
Wes grinned. She had no idea.
…to be continued.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-04-13 09:40 pm (UTC)Mmmm, NC-17. You know me so well. XD
Oh my gosh, this was incredible! So super hot but also wonderfully sweet. I love Wes, especially when he's bashful and shy and awkward and trying his best to keep a cool head but internally he's melting into a puddle of goo... just like me after reading this story.
And Travis, oh gosh, so deliciously wonderful! I love his confidence, his bravado on stage, his love and dedication for his work, but also his tenderness, his honest care and concern for his patrons.
My favorite part was definitely the diner when we get to see the 'real' Travis, when he's out of uniform, so to speak. ;) I love how he takes care of Wes, how he makes all the first moves because he understands Wes is too uncertain of himself to do so, how he kisses Wes' knuckles before he leaves. Such a gentleman! They're both utter gentlemen and that's why I love them so much.
This show has a lot to live up to now. If I watch this series and these characters aren't as awesome as you've described... I just don't know what I'll do. Maybe toss a chair through the window. Or challenge all the squirrels in my yard to a fight. XD Sorry, I'm being goofy because your story has made me DELIRIOUS WITH HAPPINESS!!! :D
You know what? I changed my mind. This line was definitely my favorite part -
…to be continued.
I can't wait! Oh my gosh, they're going to be so cute together. Remind me to enable you more because you are amazing! I'll do anything needed to keep you writing. :D
Thank you so, so much for my present! You're the best! You've taken my awesome day and made it even better. ♥ you!
PS - LOL, 'Woody’s Cockpit'. OMG, that's perfect. You're brilliant. :D
no subject
Date: 2015-04-14 09:14 pm (UTC)Hahaha... not as sexy as it could have been, but enough for now. :D
Aw, thank you so much! I love a really awkward Wes, too. He's too cute when he's flustered. :D
Travis is something else, that's all I can say.
Yay! I loved that part, too. I thought it added a lot to his character to see that he's a real person under the Officer Friendly mask.
Oh god... don't say that. The show's been off the air for nearly two years now and I'm probably so far off cannon without knowing it that I'll never find my way back. :D Do me one favor? Make sure you're up to date with your vaccinations before challenging any kind of wild rodent to a fight, okay?
I couldn't manage to fit those last two suggestions of yours into this fic, so there must be MOAR OFFICER FRIENDLY! The only thing I love more than awkward!Wes is drunk!Wes (and I've written a lot of that). :D
You are so welcome and I'm so happy I was able to make your day brighter!
Hah - I googled for 'gay strip club names' and I found 'Woody's' and 'The Cockpit' and thought - why not? Let's be ridiculous!
(And to think, I thought that trip to see Thunder from Down Under was a waste of time...)
no subject
Date: 2015-04-15 01:11 pm (UTC)And don't worry. I'm a little accident prone so I always make sure to keep up with my shots. ;)
MOAR OFFICER FRIENDLY!!! Best three words I've read all day. :DDD
LOL, bless you, Google, bless you.
Hah, Thunder from Down Under! Is that a strip club you visited once? A bunch of my boys took me to a strip club once when they realized I'd never been. One of the girls pulled me up on stage and I ended up making enough money (without taking my close off) to pay for our cab ride home. XD
no subject
Date: 2015-04-15 08:41 pm (UTC)Oh god, you and me both. I gave myself a Pepsi bath this morning so yeah.
You don't get out much, do you? If that's the best thing you've heard... :D
Thunder from Down Under is a big male strip revue from Australia. They have shows all over and it's more of just that - a show than a club. So much fun because even the men know how corny it all is and really play it up. My friend came down from Philly a couple years ago and we went and I swear, we laughed so hard. That's pretty awesome though! And it so sounds like you had blast. :D
no subject
Date: 2015-04-20 08:01 am (UTC)And this was funny and sweet and a lil' bit sexy too! Good luck, Wes - you know you;re gonna love it! ;-)
no subject
Date: 2015-04-20 04:08 pm (UTC)Yay! I'm so happy. Thank you. :) Oh, and you so know he will love every second of it!