| Stef's Stuf |
| Courting Lennie: Chapter 1 |
| Lennie sat at his desk watching the clock crawl in slow motion towards 5 o'clock. It was a slow Friday afternoon, he wasn't on the schedule for the weekend, and he just couldn't drum up any interest in the case he and Ed were working on. Of course, it wasn't like he had any major plans for the weekend in any case. But just on principle, he wanted this day to be over. The phone rang; he and Ed eyed each other, both thinking the same thing - please don't let us catch a case now! He sighed and picked it up. "Briscoe." "Hey, Lennie!" "Jack!" He signaled Ed that they were off the hook. "How are you feeling?" "Better. But going out of my mind with boredom." Lennie laughed. "What, you forget how to relax? It's this thing people do when they're not working." Jack chuckled. "So how would YOU know about it?" "Hey, I manage to relax even when I AM working." "Don't let Van Buren hear you say that! Listen, Lennie, I just wanted to thank you for dropping off dinner yesterday. It helped a lot." Lennie heard something change in Jack's voice. The two of them had gotten to be pretty good friends over the years working together. But they had always kept a certain emotional distance; the classic "guy club" rules applied. But there was something there, a certain sincerity, that Lennie had never heard before. He guessed coming within inches of being killed by that brick had affected Jack even more than the concussion itself. He felt his own guard dropping slightly. "Yeah, well, glad to help out. You going to be OK tonight?" Jack's hands were trembling holding the phone. Lennie had actually given him the opening he needed. "I'm feeling a lot better. Was thinking about ordering out for Chinese, but they don't deliver unless you order enough for a small army." Lennie laughed. "Is that an invitation?" "I really could use the company, Lennie." "Well, in that case, how can I refuse? Besides, it beats the hell out of staring at the TV back at my place." "Thanks, Lennie." There it was again - something in the voice -? Well, what better karma than spending a Friday evening visiting a sick friend? When at long last the hands of the clock finally found the 5, Lennie bailed. Of course, Friday rush hour traffic didn't make it easy to get across town to Jack's place. But eventually he got there and even found a parking space pretty close by, so he figured he was doing pretty good. Jack kept eyeing the clock, wondering when Lennie would get there. He knew traffic would be a mess. But he was so nervous it seemed that the minute hand had stopped moving. His doubts about whether he would react to the real thing were already put to rest; just listening to Lennie's voice on the phone had wreaked havoc on his system, and knowing he was coming over had him all worked up already. He was afraid he was going to say or do something really stupid and scare Lennie off or lose his friendship for good. That wasn't an option. He knew he had to take this slow and be prepared to forget about the whole thing if it meant jeopardizing what he already had with Lennie. He tried to remain calm, but it wasn't working. When the doorbell finally rang, he all but jumped out of his skin. He took a moment to compose himself and opened the door. A wave of pure lusty desire swept over him at the sight of the tall broad-shouldered man in front of him. "Hey, Lennie!" He managed, mentally thanking his courthouse experience for keeping the quivers out of his voice. Lennie gave him a good once-over and nodded. "You're looking a lot better, Jack," he said as he took off his overcoat and suit coat. Jack took them and stashed them in the closet, then led Lennie into the living room. They sat down and exchanged the usual pleasantries, then poured over the menu and placed their dinner order. Lennie spotted the jewel case from the Pink Floyd CD Jack had been listening to earlier, and that sparked a discussion of 70's era classic rock. Turned out they had a lot of the same favorites, and a lot of memories to go with them. Lennie had him laughing hysterically with a tale of a Stones concert he had never quite made it to when their dinner arrived. After dinner, Lennie sat back and decided to dig a little. "You really OK, Jack?" "Yeah, I guess so. Why?" "I don't know. Just, when you called this afternoon, I thought I heard something in your voice. Something, I don't know, different." Jack sighed. "Always the detective, aren't you, Lennie?" Lennie smiled. "It's not just my job, Jack, it's who I am." "Yeah, and that's the problem." "Huh?" Jack looked up at him. "You're just like me there, Lennie. Somewhere along the line, the job took over. Sometimes I feel like it's all I've got anymore. Today, I couldn't work, I didn't know what to do." Lennie sighed. "You've been thinking too much, Jack. All this free time isn't good for you." Jack shook his head. "It's not just that, Lennie. I could have died this week, and who would have cared? Sure as hell not my ex-wife; my daughter might shed a few tears, but that's about it." Lennie shook his head. "That's not true, Jack. Abbie cares about you - and so do I." Jack looked up into the deep blue eyes. He gulped a couple of times before finding his voice. "Thanks, Lennie. That means a lot." Lennie reached out and squeezed Jack's arm, thankfully letting go before Jack passed out from the blood rushing to his crotch. They sat there in silence for a moment. "Lennie, this thing really got to me. Ever since that brick knocked me out, I've been having the most amazing, vivid dreams. At first I thought I was losing it, because I didn't realize I was falling asleep on my feet; it felt more like a hallucination, like I was living the life of another person. Who just happened to look like me and be named Jack McCoy. He has a full life, somebody he cares about, a future full of promise. It happened a couple of times, each time he's somebody different, a cop in LA, a lawyer in Maine, a working stiff riding a bus, but it's always the same ending - he finds that special someone and lives happily ever after." He sighed and looked up at Lennie. "Ever since Claire died, I've been hiding behind my job, not letting myself care about anybody. I think my subconscious wants me to wake up and live again. But I'm not sure I know how anymore." Lennie sighed and made a face. "I know what you mean, Jack. I decided a long time ago that two failed marriages were enough. But there are days when I really wish I had somebody to come home to. Lots of days in fact ..." Jack saw his own loneliness reflected in Lennie and realized again how terrible it was. "Lennie, I was thinking. Maybe we should get out more, do stuff together. Hanging out with a friend beats sitting home alone." He was so nervous; it sounded reasonable, would Lennie pick up on his real motive? Lennie bit his lip and nodded. "You know, you've got something there, Jack. Maybe a couple of old bachelors could tear this town up a bit. Yeah, I'd like that." He smiled, and Jack couldn't help beaming in return. "In fact, I'm not working this weekend. You feel up to getting out tomorrow?" "Are you kidding? If I have to spend another full day trapped here I think I'll end up killing somebody." "Well, I don't want you overdoing it when you're still not 100%. How about we watch the Knicks game on TV tomorrow afternoon, then head over to O'Malley's and shoot some stick?" It was all Jack could do to hide his elation. As it was, his smile lit up the room. "Sounds perfect, Lennie. Thanks." "Hey, isn't there a game on tonight?" Jack dug out the remote and they settled in for an evening in front of the TV. He very carefully sat as far away from Lennie as possible; afraid if he was too close he'd give something away, do something stupid. Just being near him like this was a killer turn-on. By the time the game was over and Lennie headed home, he was about ready to burst. As he locked the door behind his friend, his hands were already reaching for his belt, desperate to get to his throbbing cock. He was thankful he'd had the foresight to wear a very loose pair of jeans; better do the same tomorrow. He slid the jeans and his underwear down to his knees and sank back onto the couch where Lennie had been sitting just minutes ago. He could still feel the warmth from his body, imagined it still here. **** Lennie's body, already too close for comfort, scooted a bit closer on the couch, his hand resting gently on the inside of Jack's thigh. Jack sighed with pleasure. "It's all right. Just relax and enjoy." "Yesss," he hissed as that hand went to his groin and applied light pressure. "You always make it so good." "You're easy to please," Lennie's responded, stroking him now, getting him to sigh and moan as the pressure increased. Jack felt overwhelmed with the sensation of all his blood rushing to his cock. Oh, he needed this. It felt wonderful. "How about I take care of this now?" Lennie said, his fingers making it entirely clear what 'this' was. "Yes, please!" Jack shouted. He was suddenly afraid of making too much noise, of being too demanding or something... but then Lennie made good his promise, a gentle series of touches coaxed feeling from him, tracing that vein underneath, dancing around the swollen head, then simply wrapping around him and stroking lightly, then harder, then harder still, until he came, joyously, into that grasp. **** "Aaahhhh!" he cried out as the explosion shook him. Basking in the afterglow, Jack wondered if perhaps he had fallen asleep and dreamed again, but there was nothing of his "other lives" in the vision he had just experienced. It was just him, taking his own pleasure while fantasizing about his best friend and an alternative way to cap that pleasant evening off. "Face it Jack, whatever it is, you got it bad..." Later, as he crawled into bed, he wondered how he was going to survive until he got up the courage to find out if Lennie could even be interested. After being together all afternoon tomorrow, he'd be so hard he doubted he'd be able to concentrate on their pool game. It was going to hurt so good ...! Continue on to Chapter 2 Send us some feedback Back to the Story Index Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC; we're just borrowing them for fun, not profit. |