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Brian reckons maybe half of the regulars have figured out by now that he and Jim are getting naked together outside of a SWAT locker room - the other half just figures they're best friends. He's not entirely sure which half Picture Guy belongs to, but hey, you get invited to pose for the wall, you don't ask questions, unless it's 'hold it up like this?'.
Jim looks amused, probably because he knows entirely too damn well what it does to Brian when he gets this close. (It's not an issue on the job, obviously; Jimbo may be a hot piece of ass, but they both agree that that's something you don't bring on a mission - unless maybe it's in the showers, after.)
"Bit closer together now. And smile!"
Jim obligingly moves closer and 'accidentally' brushes up against a certain part of Brian that really didn't need the extra stimulation. His smile doesn't help very much. It's completely innocent - to people who don't know him very well.
"For your information, in my head, I'm bending you over that pool table over there right now." A bit too public for Jim's tastes, most likely, even if Brian's gotten away with the occasional grope here and there without Jim actually taking his hand off. Brian's not as good at innocent smiling as Jim, but he gives it his best shot. Gotta look your best for prosperity, after all.
"Think you got our positions mixed up there," Jim says, in a low, perfectly controlled voice. " 'cause who was it making the killer shot again just now?"
"Any idiot could've made that shot after I set it up." Pool is quite a bit like work: you can't do it all by your lonesome. You need a partner, someone you can trust - if only not to cheat the moment you've got your back turned.
Of course, with pool, there tends to be only one winner.
"How's this: we go again. You win, you can bend me over whatever the hell you want."
Brian knows he's good. He also knows Jim's good, though. "What if I lose?"
"Well, then I get to bend you over whatever the hell I want." Which, knowing Jim, will probably not be a pool table. It might be a kitchen table, although Brian's not really holding his breath there, either. Jim's a bit of a traditionalist.
"You're on."
There's a flash. Neither of them blinks. "Perfect, you guys! Thanks!"
"Pleasure," Brian says.
Whatever else he's going to do tonight - win or lose - he's pretty damn sure it will be that.