SquidgeWorld Archive

The only comfort Clay took in going home after yet another long day at work was that at least he wouldn't have to pretend everything was fine any more today. He'd already spent the entire day trying not to think about Harm, he wasn't sure he'd be able to pretend when he got home and had to face Erik. So it was a small comfort that his friend had caught him snooping and figured out the connection between Clay and Erik's mysterious internet friend, although he was fairly sure he wasn't going to hear the end of it for months to come. He took a deep breath and let himself into his condo, frowning as he was greeted with silence instead of the noise Erik referred to as music.

Slowly he slid out of his coat and draped it over the back of a chair in the living room, depositing his briefcase on the coffee table before making his way down the hall. Erik's apartment was supposed to be ready but his friend planned to spend one more night, claiming that he couldn't go home until there was no chance of paint fumes giving him a migraine. It was possible he'd changed his mind, after all Erik was flighty when it came to sticking to plans and if he'd gotten a better offer he definitely would have ditched Clay.

He shrugged and turned toward the master bedroom, but a noise from the study made him turn and glance over his shoulder. He was startled to find Erik sitting at his desk, squinting at Clay's laptop screen. The lack of loud, irritating music made him assume that Erik wasn't in the condo at all, so he was shocked to find that his friend was sitting in silence. A moment later his eyes narrowed and he walked into the study, glaring as he stopped behind Erik and cleared his throat.

The blonde smirked but didn't turn around, closing the internet connection and web browser before he looked up. "Clayton, I do believe you're losing your touch. There was a time you'd have been able to sneak up on me unawares."

"I thought you were gone already," Clay answered, hands on his hips as he stared down at the other man. "And if I didn't want you to know I was in the house you wouldn't have the faintest notion, trust me. What exactly are you doing?"

Erik frowned at the edge in Clay's voice and crossed his arms over his chest. "I was checking my e-mail, if you must know. After I ordered your tickets to the National. Honestly, you could be a little gracious about winning the bet."

Clay bit back a laugh at the mention of the bet he'd completely forgotten about. If he'd known at the time that Harm was the man on the other end of the computer he'd never have taken the bet, it wouldn't have been fair to Erik. There was no one on Earth that could talk Harm into resigning his commission, no matter how strong his supposed feelings for Clay were. Still, a bet was a bet and Clay had won before he knew who Erik was talking to. "You weren't talking to him again."

It wasn't a question so much as a command, and he dug his heels in a little further as he watched Erik bristle at his tone. He wasn't about to back down from this one, though, now that Erik knew who he'd been talking to all this time he couldn't be trusted. He'd let something slip, whether on purpose or by accident, and Clay couldn't afford that kind of carelessness.

"I don't see what difference it makes."

"Erik, no. I mean it."

"Really, Clay, you're so uptight. The man's crazy about you and you're obviously beside yourself about him. Seven years? My god, the two of you are pathetic. You're a match made in closeted hell, I swear."

"I am not in the closet," Clay corrected him. "I just don't choose to flaunt my personal life for the whole world to see. And that's exactly the problem, Rabb is in the closet and he has no choice. So regardless of how he feels about me I already know it couldn't work between us."

"Excuses, excuses." Erik sighed dramatically as Clay rolled his eyes, watching the other man prepare himself for an argument about why he couldn't possibly pursue Harm. "You just tell yourself these things so you won't have to get involved with someone you could actually have a future with. I know you, Clayton Webb, you can't get anything past me."

"You're wrong."

"You wish." Erik grinned at the look on Clay's face and stood up, reaching out to take his friend by the shoulders. "Live a little, Clay. You might even like it. Now I've gotta run, I have a date with that doctor I was going to fix you up with. Obviously you're not going to be needing his number, someone might as well fill the man's lonely hours away from the hospital."

Clay relaxed enough to smile back at his friend, laughing as Erik winked and let go of his shoulders again. "You're the last of the great philanthropists, Erik."

"I know, I'm too good for this world," Erik called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the guest room to collect his bags. "Call him, Clayton. Tonight. You won't be sorry."

"Oh, I'll be sorry," Clay muttered as he followed Erik out of the study, although he wasn't referring to the phone call he didn't have any intention of making. "It's more complicated than it sounds, Erik. You can't talk to him anymore, I mean it. No matter how bored you get, you have to avoid him."

Erik stuck out his lower lip in a pout that took years off his face and reminded Clay of the first time he'd ever seen Erik plotting against the rules at their boarding school. "I find it truly sad that you have such little faith in me, I really do. If you don't want me to talk to him anymore I won't. But I hope you'll do *something*, the poor man's heartbroken and now he's going to think that I've abandoned him too."

Clay rolled his eyes again and reached out to take one of Erik's bags from him. "He'll get over it," he said, ignoring the pang of guilt he felt for acting so callous about Harm's feelings. It wasn't that he wanted Harm to suffer, but he couldn't just call the man and tell him he had feelings for him. Even if they started something it would end far too soon for Clay's liking. Harm would either get cold feet about dating someone so close to his job or he'd just realize that Clay wasn't the man he'd thought he was. Either way things would end badly, and Clay didn't see the need to put himself through the embarrassment of calling Harm and telling him the truth just to have his heart broken eventually.

"He might, but I'm not sure you will," Erik said, surprising Clay out of his thoughts as they carried his bags to his car. "Really, Clay, I just want you to be happy."

"I appreciate the thought, Erik," Clay assured him as he placed his friend's bags in his trunk, "but I'm fine. It would never work, no matter what romantic notions Rabb's filled his head with. Trust me."

Erik rolled his eyes and closed the trunk, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on Clay's cheek before he made his way to the driver's side of his Audi. "Just remember who you have to thank for getting you two together when you finally give up being so stubborn. And you can start thanking me by taking me to see "Stomp" at the National. All those sweaty boys, the mind reels." Erik grinned and slid into the driver's seat, rolling down his window as soon as the door was closed. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"Any time," Clay said, biting back the urge to add that he hoped the next time wouldn't be too soon. Maybe he'd avoid Erik for awhile, at least until his friend found something more interesting than Harmon Rabb to obsess over. It was the safest course of action, that much was obvious. "Have fun on your date."

"Oh, I will." Erik grinned mischievously and rolled the window up before he started the engine, waving as he pulled out of the parking lot. Clay shook his head and made his way back inside, pausing just inside his condo and letting his eyes fall closed as he drank in the silence. He finally had his place to himself again, he didn't have to worry about Erik doing anything to disrupt his life and most importantly, he didn't have to think about Harm. He ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him that he didn't need Erik around to obsess about Harm and opened his eyes, making his way into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine.

He reached for a wine glass and the bottle before changing his mind and opting for Scotch instead, pouring himself three fingers and carrying his glass into the living room. He scanned his CD collection until he found the concerto he was looking for and put it in the player, letting the room fill with his favorite classical piece before he settled into a chair and took a sip of alcohol. The effects were nearly instantaneous on an empty stomach and he closed his eyes against the warmth flooding through his blood stream, telling himself he wasn't sorry that Erik had left early. He certainly wasn't lonely, no matter what his best friend thought of the way he chose to live his life. He was perfectly happy with the choices he'd made, and that included not pursuing a relationship with Harm.

Half an hour and another Scotch later Clay was still trying to convince himself that he really was happy, that there was no empty space in his life. He'd been fine with work and the occasional relationship before Erik came to stay with him, and in a few days he'd be fine again. Erik always had this affect on him, it was just because he didn't approve of Clay's more pragmatic approach to life. There was nothing wrong with the choices he'd made, though, and just because Erik thought he knew what was best for Clay didn't mean he actually did know.

"Stop obsessing," he practically growled at himself as he set his Scotch down and reached for his briefcase, rifling through the files he'd brought home until he found the one he was looking for. Work was exactly what he needed to get his mind off the confusing mess Erik and Harm had managed to create over the past week, if anything could chase the curiosity about what Harm was doing right now out of his mind it was a boring file on arms dealers in the Middle East.

He'd read the first half of the first paragraph of the dossier at least fifteen times when the doorbell rang, and he practically leapt out of his chair to answer it. Normally he'd be annoyed at the unexpected interruption, but trying to focus on boring work was just making things worse and his imagination kept wandering to places it didn't need to go. He pulled the door open, half expecting his well-meaning but overbearing neighbor or maybe Erik looking for some essential article of clothing he'd forgotten. Instead he found himself looking up into impossibly blue eyes, his heart in his throat as he tried and failed to swallow his shock. "Rabb, what are you doing here?"

"Sorry about stopping by without calling first," Harm said, glancing over Clay's shoulder into the living room before looking back at the other man with an almost hopeful expression. "I was afraid if I called first I'd lose my nerve."

All the blood drained from Clay's face as Harm grinned at him, that crooked smile sends twin jolts of anticipation to his heart and his groin. This wasn't happening, it just wasn't possible. He had to be dreaming, he'd drank that first Scotch too fast and fallen asleep in his chair and now he was dreaming Harm on his doorstep. "Lose your nerve? What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Clay asked, praying that Dream Harm was just there about a case. The last thing he needed was for his subconscious to start plaguing him with dreams of Harm stopping by to confess his feelings, the dreams he already had about Rabb on a nearly nightly basis were bad enough.

"I'm not here about a case," Harm said, his voice low and thick with innuendo. Clay had to check the urge to roll his eyes, cursing his vivid imagination for dreaming up a version of Harm that had absolutely no fear of rejection and even less of a sense of decorum. "Can I come in, Clay?"

The way he said Clay's name stopped any sarcasm that might have been on the tip of Clay's tongue, and all he could do was step aside and let Harm brush past him. He was still wearing his uniform, it wasn't his most flattering look but it was the one Clay conjured most often in his dreams. He supposed it was the familiarity of the clothes that made it the one his subconscious always dreamed up, after all his dreams had always tended toward the realistic. They were more vivid than usual tonight, however, considering the fact that he could smell Harm's cologne and feel the other man's body heat radiating off him as he passed Clay and wandered into his living room.

Clay shut the door and followed Harm into the other room, casting a quick glare at the Scotch that had gotten him into this mess before he returned his attention to the man standing in the center of the room. "Alright, Rabb, you're inside, we're alone. What's this about?"

Harm smiled again, more sheepishly this time as he ran a hand through dark hair and watched Clay from under long lashes. He seemed more nervous than he had a few moments ago, and Clay couldn't help wondering why he hadn't already gotten to the part of the dream where they were tearing clothes off. That was the usual sequence, there wasn't much conversation in his dreams about Rabb. This felt different, though, and he cast another nervous glance at his abandoned glass as he wondered if he could possibly be awake.

"I've been trying to come up with a reason why you brought Sergei back to the United States," Harm began, drawing Clay's attention back to him as he slid his jacket off and folded it carefully. "It just doesn't make any sense that you'd do something like that for me, unless..."

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," Clay interrupted, cursing the heat slowly creeping into his cheeks. He didn't want to talk about this, if it was a dream he just wanted to get to the good part. And if it wasn't a dream he wanted to get Harm out of his house before either of them said something they couldn't take back. "It wasn't personal, Rabb, it was just the right circumstances."

Harm shook his head as though the action might erase Clay's denial. "No, it was more than that. I know you, Clay. I've known you for a long time, no matter how hard you've worked to keep me from getting close to you. If it was just an opportunity you would have sent someone else, or you wouldn't have bothered at all. What you did for Sergei - for *me* -- it was amazing. There's no way I can ever repay you."

"Just don't give me any attitude the next time I need you," Clay muttered, tearing his gaze away from Harm's as he felt his face get even hotter. This wasn't going well at all, he needed Harm out of his living room before he made a complete fool of himself.

"When will that be, Clay?" Harm asked, and Clay looked up sharply as he realized that somehow Harm had moved closer to him. "The next time you need me, what exactly are you going to want from me?"

No, he didn't mean anything by that. He didn't, because if he did Clay was in serious trouble. This was all Erik's fault, he reminded himself, scowling at the thought of his meddling friend. He was sure now that Erik had talked Harm into coming over to test the waters, there was no way Harm would have come on his own. Maybe he even told Harm the whole truth, that it was Clay's computer and that he felt the same way Harm did. He made a mental note to plot his childhood friend's death and make it look like a random act of senseless violence before switching mental tracks, searching frantically for an answer Harm would buy.

"It's nothing personal, Rabb," he lied. "It's just the way things are with the Agency, you know that. I had a chance to get you back in my debt, and now you owe me. It's that simple."

"This isn't like bailing me out on a case or helping me find a missing witness," Harm said, taking another step toward Clay. He stopped long enough to drop his jacket on the couch before he closed the rest of the distance between them, stopping just short of actually touching Clay. "I tried to tell myself for over a month that you were just trying to make sure I owed you, but that can't be it. This is too big. So I talked it over with a friend and he confirmed what I hoped."

This time Clay did roll his eyes, wishing he could just tell Harm that he knew exactly who this 'friend' was and that he was about as level-headed as Harm when he thought he was right about something. He wasn't about to lay all his cards on the table, though, not until he was positive Harm knew the whole story. So what if he and Erik happened to stumble onto the truth behind Clay's motivations, that didn't mean he had to admit that they were right. "You know as well as I do how dangerous it is to see things that aren't there, Rabb. You shouldn't have come here."

"Because I'm wrong or because you're afraid of what will happen now that I know the truth?"

The truth - Clay had to laugh at that, because if Harm knew the truth he wished someone would clue him in. He didn't even know what he wanted, so he didn't see how Harm could possibly know. The point was that he hadn't admitted anything yet, and as long as he stuck to his line about wanting Harm in his debt everything would be fine. So what if they were practically sharing the same space in the center of Clay's living room, so what if Harm was looking at him in a way that Clay had only dreamed about before. It didn't matter, because if Clay just found the right words he could get Harm out of his house and then he never had to think about this again.

"You are wrong," he said quietly, not trusting himself to meet Harm's steady gaze. "It's just business, Rabb. Don't read into it, you'll just embarrass yourself."

He thought that would do it, he knew Harm was stubborn but years of experience had told Clay that if Harm's pride was compromised he'd back down. Unless he was completely, beyond a shadow of a doubt certain of whatever it was he believed in at the moment, Harm's pride was always his Achilles' heel. He felt the body in front of his move and tensed visibly, steeling himself for the moment Harm brushed past him and went back to his life before Erik meddled in it. And he waited, and waited some more but that moment never came. Instead the body in front of him moved even closer, which he didn't think was possible until he felt Harm's hand slide under his chin to force his eyes up.

"Rabb, what..." was as far as he got before Harm leaned down and silenced him with a kiss. Clay's heart froze and his brain shut down, his whole body melting into a kiss he'd wanted for years. He knew he should stop Harm, push him away and pretend to be disgusted just to get him to leave. He couldn't stop himself from kissing the taller man back, though, he told himself to stop but his body wouldn't cooperate. Then his hands were on Harm's chest, his fingers gripping the front of his uniform and pulling him even closer. Vaguely he registered the fact that they were moving and he felt the back of his legs collide with his couch, his brain finally switching back on long enough to tear his mouth away from Harm's. "Stop,
Rabb. This is a bad idea."

Harm sighed and sank onto the couch next to him, one hand coming to rest on Clay's forearm as he turned sad blue eyes on the smaller man. "It's not a bad idea, Clay. And even if it was, I've tried to talk myself out of wanting this for way too long to think it's just going to go away."

"No," Clay repeated, although he was arguing more with his own urge to pull Harm into another kiss than he was with Harm's reasoning. He shook his head to chase away the voice telling him not to blow this chance, a voice that sounded far too much like a certain meddling blonde for his peace of mind. "Rabb...Harm. You're right, okay? The reason I went after your brother myself instead of sending another agent was because the outcome was personal. But that doesn't mean this is a good idea."

"It is a good idea," Harm said, his hand leaving Clay's forearm to rest on the back of Clay's neck. Slowly he inched closer to the smaller man as he pulled Clay toward him, his grin returning when Clay didn't resist. "Do you have any idea what it took to get me to come here tonight?"

"I think I have an idea," Clay murmured as Harm's lips connected with his again. He didn't even try to talk himself into pulling away this time, the look in Harm's eyes just before their lips fused together again was too much to resist. The fact that he had Erik to thank for this wasn't lost on him, but he had plenty of time to think up the proper repayment. For now it was enough that Harm had no idea who had talked him into taking a chance with Clay, because he had a feeling if Harm found out everything would change.