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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Completed:
2009-01-07
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12,212
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5/5
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7
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23
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Confessions in the Dark

Summary:

During a blackout, Flynn and Provenza discover something wonderful--each other.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Notes:

No spoilers and my very first Closer fic. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

Chapter Text

Confessions in the Darkby LushbabyFandom: The Closer Pairing: Flynn/Provenza Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.  No copyright infringement is intended.

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Well, as far as Flynn was concerned the weekend couldn’t get much worse and it was only Friday night. The Dodgers got swept by the White Sox and the promised thunderstorm had arrived just late enough to avoid a rain-delay call that might have meant a win later instead of a humiliating third-in-a-row loss now. And said rain had not let up which meant that when his tire went flat on the 405, he got soaked while he changed it. To top it off, the spare was almost flat as well and then there was Provenza. Provenza “I don’t do flats” who had sheltered under a nearby tree, while running his mouth about idiot drivers who drove crappy cars and didn’t check their spares.

“Yeah, yeah, just bite me, Provenza. Are you going to help me with this or not?” Flynn griped.

“Oh, alright,” Provenza muttered as he reluctantly left his relatively dry spot and walked around the car to pull Flynn’s blue-and-white Dodgers jacket from the back seat. He held it over Flynn’s head like an umbrella, all the while admiring the way the dripping wet shirt clung to every line of Flynn’s muscular back. Damn, he wished he looked as good as Flynn did. He was only a few years older than Flynn, but somehow he looked (and felt) like he was twenty years older instead of four.  Concentrate, Provenza. Think about anything besides how attractive your male partner is.

“Don’t you have Triple A or something?” Provenza asked. “I know I would if I drove this piece of--”

“Yeah, I do, ha, ha, but on a stormy Friday night, it’ll be hours before they come, so I thought, if you wanted to get home any time this weekend, I should change it myself. Besides, I feel kinda dumb calling Triple A just for a flat.” Flynn stowed the deflated tire and the jack in the trunk before settling himself into the driver’s seat. His sodden jeans squelched as he moved and he slicked the water out of his short hair before starting the car and pulling back out into traffic.

It took the better part of another hour to get to Provenza’s house since he had to reduce his speed significantly. Just as they pulled up, the street lights and the lights shining from the neighboring homes flickered out.

“Oh that’s just great. A fucking blackout too. And it couldn’t have happened during the game.” Flynn bitched as Provenza opened the door of the car.

“Hey Flynn, you should come in for a bit.”Provenza suggested. At Flynn’s baleful expression, he shrugged. “Listen, you’re cold and wet, you can’t drive this bucket of bolts more than twenty and the roads are going to be a madhouse with the blackout. You ain’t gonna get home for hours. You can crash here tonight. I got a sofa bed.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should.” Flynn grabbed his jacket and locked the car, ignoring Provenza’s look of disbelief. “Hey, it’s a classic.”

“A classic piece of crap, maybe.” Provenza smirked as he unlocked his front door and ushered Flynn into the smallish living room. They each clicked on their small department-issued flashlights. “Hey, bathroom’s down the hall, hang up your jacket in the shower to dry and I’ll find some candles or something.” He threw a wooden hanger at Flynn and went into the kitchen, stripping off his damp jacket and hanging it over a wooden chair.

Flynn took a look around as he peeled the sopping jacket and headed towards the back of the house. It was a typical divorced-guy place, one bed/one bath, with the usual bachelor-style furniture; ratty armchair, battered wood coffee table and end table and a newer-looking sofa that appeared to be Flynn’s bed for the night. He hung the jacket in the shower and ruefully looked at his jeans. They were never going to dry with him in them so he stripped them off and tried to wring out as much water as he could before he hung them over the glass door of the shower. The white t-shirt was next and he had better luck with that, wringing most of the water out before laying it over the towel rack. By morning it should be dry and he’d just have to wear the damp jeans home. His socks and boxers were barely damp, which was a small mercy, but he still shivered a little in the cool night air.

“Hey Provenza, you got a pair of sweats I can borrow while my stuff dries?”

A muted voice responded from the direction of the kitchen. “Yeah, middle drawer on the right in the bedroom.”

Flynn stumbled out of the bathroom and into the small bedroom. He tripped slightly over a pile of damp clothes and realized Provenza must have changed into drier ones while he’d been in the bathroom. With his flashlight gripped between his teeth he felt his way to the dresser and grabbed at a drawer. The drawer slid out unexpectedly quickly and spewed its contents at Flynn’s feet.

As he muttered under his breath and bent down to scoop everything back, he heard a loud ‘shit’ coming from the kitchen and hurried footsteps coming towards him. Quickly Flynn snatched at clothing and his fingers clutched at something boxy and thin. He aimed his flashlight downward and yelped his own ‘shit’ as he realized he’d stumbled across Provenza’s collection of porn.  

“Shit,’ he repeated quietly. The five or six DVD jewel cases did not portray scantily-clad buxom women. Instead the images were of ripped, half-naked men with titles like While the Wife’s Away, or A Few Hard Men.

Provenza had skidded to a halt at the bedroom door. The darkness prevented Flynn from seeing Provenza’s expression but the embarrassment and anxiety came out in his voice.

I’d—uh—appreciate it if you didn’t say—outta respect for our partnership—I mean . . .” Provenza trailed off.  Shit, what was he supposed to say? Hey Andy, yeah, I figured out I was into guys like a year ago, and into you specifically like, you know, a year ago. Ya wanna take our partnership to a new level? He swallowed hard. Flynn wasn’t known for being the most open-minded guy on the squad. Like Provenza, he was old-school, and unfortunately, old-school often meant homophobic. The dark room meant he couldn’t see if Flynn was getting ready to punch him out or just get the hell outta here. “Listen, this won’t be a problem. If you want another partner, then that’s what’ll happen.” Provenza directed the beam of his flashlight at Flynn and Flynn jerked his head away from the light, but not before Provenza saw the shock on his face.

Flynn could hardly believe it. He was crouched down in Provenza’s bedroom, half-dressed and clutching gay porn. He processed what Provenza said, and the anxious tone. Shit, he doesn’t know if I’m going to put a beat on him or something. Say something, you gotta say something.

“Hey, this one’s good. I hear they’re putting out a sequel soon.” Flynn picked up one of the dvds and held it up. Okay, maybe that wasn’t what he planned to say, but what the hell. If he accidently outed Provenza, the least he could do is out himself as well. He shone the flashlight at Provenza whose mouth was hanging open in bewilderment.

“Gah,” was all that Provenza could manage. Flynn finished picking up the clothes and dvds and shoved them back in the drawer and jammed the drawer back into the dresser. He opened the correct drawer and pulled out a sweatshirt.

“I think I’ll pass on the pants. They aren’t going to be nearly long enough.” He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and jerked his head towards the living room. “Come on, I think we should probably talk, don’t you?”

Provenza followed him in a daze. Had Flynn just admitted he was gay?

“Yeah, I did. Or at least, I’m bi.” Provenza hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Flynn answered him. Provenza set some candles out and lit them, allowing Flynn to follow him into the room and see where he was going.

Flynn settled himself on the couch and put his stockinged feet up on the coffee table. He pulled an afghan off the back and wrapped it around his bare legs.

“Man, that’s better. You wouldn’t have any way of making coffee would you?”

“Range is gas. I can boil some water for instant.” Provenza slowly made his way into the kitchen and started the kettle. On auto-pilot he made coffee for Flynn and he grabbed a tumbler of whiskey for himself. He handed the coffee to Flynn and sat down heavily in the armchair. He chugged back a healthy slug of the liquor, glad to focus on the burning sensation as it traveled down his throat. He jumped a little when Flynn spoke.

“So, first off, I don’t want another partner. I obviously don’t have a problem with you being gay or bi. I won’t mention this to the squad or anyone else, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either. Especially Taylor. So now that is out of the way, you wanna talk?”

Provenza took another big sip. God, it would be nice to talk to someone. Someone who apparently knew what he was going through. He got up wordlessly and went into the kitchen only to reappear a moment later with the bottle of whiskey. This would go better with another drink. He poured another glassful and took a healthy swig. He really didn’t know where to start.

 Even in the dim light from the candles, Flynn could see how uncomfortable Provenza looked and took pity on him. “So I guess I’ll go first. You know I was married once? Well it didn’t take and it was pretty much my fault. I started noticing guys when I was in ‘Nam in ’73 and the day I got home I married my girlfriend and applied for the academy. It was tough on Cathy, our marriage. It was bad enough I was a cop, but I couldn’t keep it in my pants either. I guess all the catting around I did was to try and ‘prove’ to myself that I wasn’t attracted to guys too. We divorced in 1985 and she pretty much hates my guts. I can’t say I blame her, who wouldn’t hate to be married to an alcoholic, closet-gay, womanizing cop? Thank god we never had kids. I’d hate to see how fucked up they’d be, with me as their dad.” Flynn settled himself more comfortably on the couch and pulled the afghan up a little higher. He liked speaking into the cover of darkness; things were so much easier to say in the dark.

“I spent the next ten years drinking and whoring around, only this time with men. I guess I’d gotten lucky with the AIDS thing, since even though I was real active before I started fucking men, I’d always used a rubber just to be very sure I wasn’t going to get hit up with some paternity claim. When I started sleeping with guys, it was easy to keep using ‘em. But my drinking was getting outta hand and one night I flipped my car and that was it. I love being a cop and my drinking was going to end that. So I sobered up, joined AA and started being more selective about my one-night stands. And here I am, ten years later, clean and sober and more often than not nowadays, alone.” Flynn sipped at his coffee, relishing the warmth as it slipped down his throat. “What about you, Provenza?”

Provenza started, almost spilling the whiskey in his hand. “What about me?” he asked gruffly, hoping that Flynn wasn’t asking what he thought he was asking.

“Well, when did you realize you were bi? Or gay? C’mon, I shared.”

“Since when did this become a sleepover? I ain’t no twelve year old girl and we aren’t going to be sharing secrets and giggling like them either.”

Flynn grinned broadly. “Oh c’mon Princess, tell me everything.”

“There ain’t nothing to tell,” Provenza stalled.

“Sure there is. Hey, as your partner I should at least know if I should contact somebody if, you know, things go south.”

“Naw, there isn’t anybody like that to tell. Well, except my kids and you got their numbers. The ex-wives, well, just leave them alone. You really don’t want the grief.”

“So, you’re not seeing anyone particular? One-nighters like me, huh?” Flynn smiled at the thought of he and Provenza out together sometime on the prowl. Provenza hadn’t answered the question. “Where do you go to get your kicks?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Provenza muttered, not wanting to admit he hadn’t actually done anything with a guy—yet.” Best get Flynn talking about himself again so he’d stop asking all these awkward questions. “What about you?”

Flynn shrugged before he remembered Provenza could hardly see him in the dim light of the candles. “It’s harder for me. I’m not really comfortable at the bars and dance clubs because of the alcohol.”

“Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll put it away.” Before Flynn could protest, Provenza was up and out of his chair and taking the bottle and glass back into the kitchen. Flynn heard the tap running and then the tea kettle whistle a minute later. He got up and went into the kitchen for a refill of fresh hot coffee and saw that Provenza had rinsed his glass and the bottle was also empty and freshly rinsed.

“Jeez, Provenza, you didn’t have to dump the booze. I can handle myself around a drink, you’ve seen me at bars before with the squad.”

Provenza shrugged. “Hey, it was just about empty anyway. And you just said, you didn’t like to go to the bars because of alcohol.” He made Flynn a new cup of instant coffee and one for himself as well. He and Flynn made their way back into the living room.

“Hey, do me a favor and sit on the sofa. I’m getting a crick in my neck straining to see you in the dark,” Flynn complained as he wrapped the afghan around himself again as Provenza sat at the opposite end of the sofa. “And the alcohol at the bars isn’t the problem. It’s just that most guys don’t bring a toothbrush to a club and I don’t want to kiss someone who tastes like booze.” Flynn hesitated for a split-second, “it’s—I’m afraid I’ll slip if I can taste it again. And I’m an old-fashioned guy who learned how to make-out in the sixties, I like kissing.”

“Yeah, me too.” Provenza sounded wistful.

“So you don’t kiss your ‘dates’?” Flynn asked.

“They are few and far between, my friend.” Provenza prevaricated. Provenza decided it was time to come clean with his partner. After all, although Flynn would get a kick out of it and probably laugh, maybe he could get some pointers. “I haven’t actually done anything with anyone, yet.”

Flynn took another sip of his coffee. “You mean, you haven’t gone all the way with some guy yet? Well, lots of guys never get around to the fucking part.”

“No, I mean, I haven’t actually done anything with a guy."

 “You haven’t done anything as in nothing? Have you gone out with a guy? Kiss a guy? Gone down on a guy?” Flynn asked incredulously, carefully putting his coffee cup on the end table next to him.

“No and no and really, no.” Provenza snapped defensively.

Flynn thanked god for the cover of darkness, as he had just sprung the fastest and hardest boner he’d ever had. God, just imagine introducing Provenza to the indescribable pleasures of prostate stimulation or rimming! Hell, it had been Flynn’s experience that even blowjobs and hand jobs were different when one guy did them to another.

“Are you sure you’re bi?” Please say yes, he begged silently.

Well, I’m completely turned on by you so yeah, I think so, Provenza thought. Aloud he said, “Hey I actually read Playboy for the articles now.”

“Okay, so why aren’t you out there getting a piece of tail, or giving a piece of tail?”

“C’mon, look at me. I mean, honestly, who wants to do anything with me—an out-of-shape, white-haired, old guy who happens to be a cop?”

There it was the perfect opening. Flynn shifted on the sofa to ease the pressure on his throbbing dick. He said casually, “There are plenty of gay guys our age. And lots of the twinks are into older guys. Hell, I’d do you.”

Provenza choked on the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken. It went down the wrong way and he coughed violently, eyes watering, gasping for a breath. Flynn jumped up and slapped him hard on the back and raised his arms over his head to ease the coughing fit. After Provenza caught his breath, Flynn sat back down on the sofa next to him, not bothering to grab the afghan.

“Whu—what did you just say?” Provenza wheezed as he wiped his watering eyes with the hem of his police sweatshirt.

“You heard me, I said I’d do you, meaning I find you attractive and I wouldn’t exactly kick you outta bed if you decided to start bumping boots together.”

“Whadda you mean, you find me attractive?”

“Just what I said, moron.”

“But why?” Provenza sounded completely baffled.

“Why? Hell, I don’t know. I just know I’ve thought about kissing you since that damn RV and Willy Ray’s mistletoe.” Flynn looked into Provenza’s eyes as well he could in the dim light. Just as he was about to push himself away and head back into his corner of the sofa, Provenza cleared his still-rough throat and spoke.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay what?” Flynn could hardly believe his ears.

“Okay, lay one on me. Kissy, kissy.” Provenza’s words were confident, but he was definitely a little nervous.

Flynn hesitated for a moment, and then bent his head and pressed his lips against Provenza’s. Provenza didn’t respond immediately, but then Flynn felt an answering pressure against his own lips. Flynn gently deepened the kiss, not wanting to spook Provenza.

Provenza could hardly believe what he was doing or how he was feeling. It had been a long time since a kiss affected him this much. Flynn’s lips moved against his, open-mouthed, but no tongue. He reached up and pulled Flynn towards him, causing the other man to over-balance and ending the kiss. Provenza instinctively followed the backwards movement of Flynn’s head, trying to recapture his lips. Flynn rested his forehead against Provenza’s just for a moment before asking in a low voice, “Are you okay with this?”

Provenza hesitated for a second before pulling Flynn back down for another kiss. This time, it was he who deepened the contact, letting his tongue slide fleetingly along the corner of Flynn’s mouth. Flynn groaned and opened his mouth to Provenza’s questing tongue. Flynn over-balanced again but this time he let himself fall on the floor, pulling Provenza with him. The two men fell between the sofa and the coffee table, with Provenza half-lying on Flynn.

Both men groaned again as their bodies pressed against each other. Hands scrabbled underneath cotton sweatshirts, pushing them up to bare two heaving torsos. Flynn was more heavily furred; his broad muscular chest covered with a thick cushion of soft salt-and-peppered hair. Provenza let his fingers comb through it, relishing the play of muscles under his fingertips. It felt almost surreal to be caressing another man, much less his partner. Provenza pushed away the thought of how badly their partnership would end if this—whatever this was—went bad.

Flynn was lifting his hips, desperately seeking relief for his aching prick. He found Provenza’s unyielding upper thigh and pressed himself against it again and again. He lifted his head and licked at Provenza’s neck and Provenza grunted and lowered his head so Flynn could reach his ear.

Flynn reared up suddenly and flipped them, letting his weight pin Provenza to the floor. He could feel Provenza’s dick pressing heavily against his hip. Provenza was thrusting upwards and stuttering something under his breath. Flynn stopped sucking on Provenza’s neck and then he could make out a couple of words.

“Andy—god—yes—shit—Andy!” Provenza froze suddenly and knocked his head back repeated against the carpeted floor. His hips bucked up and his face contorted into a grimace as he climaxed. “Fuuuckkkk, Andy! Don’t stop!”

Flynn’s orgasm snuck up on him as he watched in the flickering candlelight as Provenza came. He groaned and grabbed Provenza’s hand, pressing it hard against his spurting cock. He pushed the coffee table away and collapsed next to Provenza who was panting like a greyhound at the end of a race.

“Shit, Provenza. I’m going to have to borrow a pair of boxers now,” Flynn wheezed as he lay next to his partner on the floor.

Provenza didn’t answer. He was mortified by what had just happened. Coming in his pants like a teenager! God, what would Flynn think of him? Hair-trigger, no control; four words no man likes to have used to describe him. All they had really done was kiss a little. He rolled away and using the couch for leverage got to his feet slowly.

Flynn got up much faster. Shit, he thought, Provenza’s freaking out. I had to push it, had to kiss him. Even though he did ask, I should have said no. Now everything is fucked up. I just may have lost my partner and best friend because I couldn’t keep it in my pants. Nothing new there, only this time maybe I just lost more than ever before.

He cleared his throat and Provenza jumped. “I’m sorry, Provenza. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s okay if you just want to forget about it. I’ll be sorry not to have an opportunity to repeat this, only maybe next time in a bed instead of the floor.” Flynn tried to interject some levity into the uncomfortable mood.

Provenza’s head jerked up. “Next time? You’d want a next time after that?”

Flynn frowned. “Sure, I’d want another go. Whadda ya mean, after that?”

Provenza hung his head. “I couldn’t hold on. It felt so frickin’ good I couldn’t control myself. Creaming my pants like some twelve-year old.” His head jerked up at Flynn’s sudden laughter.

“This ain’t no laughing matter, asshole.” Provenza pushed past Flynn and stomped down the hall to his bedroom. Flynn caught up with him before he could enter.

“Hey, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing because I was so damn relieved. I thought you were freaking out about what we did. I was so fuckin’ glad that wasn’t it, I just—” Flynn paused and laid his hand on Provenza’s forearm, squeezing it slightly. “I can’t afford to lose your friendship. I thought I had fucked it up again and—” Flynn swallowed the lump in his throat and changed the subject.

“You thought there was something wrong with coming in our pants like that?” Flynn smiled when Provenza nodded. “The only thing wrong about it is that we made a mess of our undershorts and now seriously, I need to borrow a pair, this is getting uncomfortable.”

Provenza laughed and led Flynn into the bedroom where he pulled two pairs of boxers out of the top drawer. The two men cleaned up in the bathroom and Flynn grinned when his freshly-rinsed boxers joined the rest of his clothes hanging in the bathroom drying.

“So, are you really going to make me sleep on that sofa, or can you maybe find me a better place, like say, your bed?”

Provenza chuckled. “That was your nefarious plan, wasn't it? Seduce me so you wouldn’t have to sleep on the sofa.” But he blew out all the candles in the living room and together they fumbled their way back into the bedroom. “You get the left side whether you like it or not.”

The two cops crawled into bed and Flynn settled himself quickly under the surprising comfortable covers. He wondered what Provenza would do if he kissed him goodnight or tried to cuddle. Provenza settled the matter by scooting over in the bed and draping himself against Flynn’s side, pressing a light kiss on his collarbone and whispering, ‘goodnight.’

Flynn smiled. It had been a good night and tomorrow morning was going to be even better.