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Three beers into the party, Carlton was finally starting to relax as he leaned back on the lounger and tuned in and out of O’Hara’s chatter. His partner was enthusing about the cuteness of young Iris, who had returned to the house for a nap. He agreed, of course. He just didn’t have as much to say about it.
Instead, he let the sun soak into his skin (after diligently applying an SPF 30 lotion) and watched the pool with heavy-lidded eyes.
Spencer and Gus had brought along super soakers, and with the toddler now tucked away, they were busily and noisily creating chaos. Vick didn’t seem to mind so Carlton wasn’t about to waste his precious dozy day-off hours concerning himself with the myriad pool safety violations.
Thanks to summers as a lifeguard in college, he could still name most of them and he was loosely keeping a tally in his head. There might be something he could use later as ammo against the fake psychic. At least that’s the excuse he gave himself when he couldn’t seem to stop tracking the sheen of golden skin across Spencer’s dripping frame, the flex of his shoulders, or the curve of his jaw as he threw his head back in laughter.
Carlton knew his sunglasses probably covered the direction of his gaze, but he still looked away whenever Spencer turned his head. Just in case.
Despite all the idle flirtations and the transparent excuses to share touch, Carlton was reasonably sure Spencer had no genuine interest in him.
Carlton had figured out his own attractions sometime during the Academy. A Boy’s Night Out had turned into a messy morning with a sore head and a fragile ego. The other man dropped out of training and, for a moment, Carlton considered it too. It was the only time he ever wondered if he was meant to be a cop. But he knew he liked women. If he only focused on them, no one else would ever have to know.
Shortly after that, he met Victoria and all seemed right in his world again. He fell so far and so hard for her, it was like having a phantom limb when she left. The absence of her ached in a way nothing but time could console.
He might have loved Lucinda if the timing had been different. If she’d been willing to let him in. Carlton didn’t like ‘ifs’ though; they had too many variables. Like any good detective, he worked from observable facts.
The most observable fact of his recent love life was the lack thereof. He filled his time with his caseload, trips to the gun range and out on the water, and the occasional day like this one. Vick’s new pool had been the talk of the station for some time, and he was flattered he’d been on the guest list to celebrate it. He’d even worn trunks under his khaki shorts and the one polo shirt he owned. There just hadn’t been a moment where he felt ready to get in.
O’Hara was happily sun-drying in her bikini after winning a game of chicken with McNabb’s wife, and Vick was tending the barbeque for a second round of hotdogs and burgers. Spencer and Gus were now playing some sort of squirt gun Marco Polo mashup, splashing and hooting like hoodlums.
A stream of cold water shot over Carlton’s exposed calves and he startled with a swear. It hit O’Hara too, who yelped and kicked her legs up, chair squeaking beneath her.
“Hey! Watch it, guys!” O’Hara shouted toward the water. She was always much kinder in her approach than Carlton had the patience for.
“Sorry Jules!” Spencer and Gus chorused almost in unison.
“Not the only collateral damage, ya morons,” Carlton grumbled, wiping his legs with the edge of an unused towel. As he was bent forward, another stream of water rushed in, hitting his shoulder and flowing down the back of his shirt. “Oh, come on!” He looked up with a glare and noted the smug look on Spencer’s face.
“Oopsie!” Spencer called out with false sincerity.
“I don’t buy that for a second,” Carlton pointed out, trying to sop up the water on his back before it hit the khakis.
“God forbid you come to a pool party and get wet, am I right?” Though Spencer’s eyes were covered with neon orange sunglasses, the eye roll was obvious in his voice.
Gus took advantage of the moment to shoot Spencer right in the face, and the two returned quickly to their antics. Only this time, Spencer seemed to make it a point to aim in Carlton’s direction. After two more “collateral” sprays (that somehow managed not to hit Juliet at all), he’d hit his limit.
Two beers ago, Carlton might have just packed it in and called it a day. Instead, he angrily stripped off the layers over his swimsuit and dove into the deep end. It had been some time since he opened his eyes in chlorinated water, and they burned a little at the sides. The pain was worth it, however, when he managed to locate one of Spencer’s ankles and pull him under.
The other man made a squawking sound and flailed, all limbs. He started to curl inward but Carlton had the upper hand (for once) and made his grab for the water gun. They surfaced together, panting and both holding parts of the plastic toy. Spencer tried feinting to one side before crashing over to the other but Carlton was on him like velcro. He had one arm around Spencer’s chest and followed the movement, taking a quick gulp of air before they were back under.
Weightless, they struggled against one another for purchase on the gun’s surface. Spencer bucked from the waist and sent them both back up for air. Kicking with purpose, Carlton pushed Spencer up against the side of the pool, the water just shallow enough for him to get a foothold. Spencer transferred the toy from hand to hand until Carlton captured one of his hands and got it behind his back in a rather impressively sturdy armlock. Impressive, that is, considering he was a bit tipsy, and they were both waterlogged and breathless.
Spencer stilled a moment, both of them holding the gun in the air above the water, both breathing harshly, lungs working like bellows.
“Jesus, Lassie… if you wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was ask.”
Carlton made a dismissive noise. “You’re lucky I don’t handcuff you to the ladder.”
Spencer huffed a laugh and tilted his head back until it almost touched Carlton’s shoulder, his voice quiet enough for just the two of them to hear. “I might like that.”
Pretending that image had no effect on him, Carlton made another grasp for the water gun, grunting as the effort brought them body to body.
“I think you might like it too,” Spencer added, rolling his hips back.
It was only with Spencer’s ass pressing very deliberately against his erection, that Carlton even realized he’d gotten hard. He froze, his pulse thundering in his ears. His thoughts were mostly filled with swearing and white noise.
Spencer knew.
Spencer fucking knew.
There was no way he’d ever let Carlton live this down…
Spencer, of course, wasted no time taking advantage of the distraction he’d created. He grabbed the water gun and ducked under Carlton’s grasp, twisting away with a whoop of victory. He splashed back toward the shallow end and called out to Gus, berating him for not helping.
“I am not getting in between you two for love or money, Shawn,” Gus shot back. “In fact, I smell a cheeseburger calling my name.”
“You can’t smell it calling… they haven’t invented that technology yet. Oh my god, what if they did though? Like smellovision for your phone. We’d never have to worry about dinner plans again! Hey, grab me a hotdog while you’re out?” Spencer leaned against one side of the pool, arms out to either side.
“Your legs work,” Gus called back, approaching the grill after a perfunctory toweling off.
“Aw, come on, buddy. I’d do it for you.”
“No food in the pool,” Vick stated firmly.
Spencer exhaled loudly into a disappointed groan. “Why is life full of so many hard choices?” He looked back, catching Carlton’s gaze. His obnoxiously bright sunglasses had been knocked off in the struggle, leaving the mischief in his eyes plain as day. “Know what I mean, Lassie-bean?”
Carlton, who had not yet moved from his place near the deep end for fear of being seen below the belt, pursed his lips. “I think some people make them, uh, harder than others.”
Arching one brow, Spencer slid his tongue over his bottom lip before pulling it into his mouth, then releasing it shiny and pink. “Yeah.”
Carlton swallowed thickly, suddenly hyperaware of how many eyes were surrounding them. This exchange felt far too private, far too intimate for witnesses, especially when he couldn’t hide behind the stern propriety of his badge.
Carlton frowned at Spencer and looked away. He didn’t like these games. At least, he told himself he didn’t. Some part of him clearly must, or he wouldn’t keep responding to them so well.
“Head’s up, Lassie!”
Carlton looked up just in time to catch the water gun as it flew toward him.
“Lighten up and live a little,” Spencer winked back as he walked up the pool steps.
Carlton let his gaze wander only so far before averting it once more. He stood awkwardly clutching the toy gun in one hand until McNabb caught his attention.
“Hey Boss, uh, I’m a pretty good shot…” McNabb sat on the opposite edge of the pool, holding the other gun aloft, his long legs dangling into the water.
Carlton considered his options, grateful for the time he’d had to deflate sown below. “I suppose I don’t mind kicking your ass for a while…” He flashed a quick grin and McNabb returned it warmly.
***
Sometime later, Carlton was dressed again, waiting for his trunks to dry in the laundry room. Despite himself, he’d had a good time playing a modified ‘cops and robbers’ with McNabb in the pool. He’d even worked up an appetite for a little potato salad. Today was already a cheat day, after all. He’d be back to a more regimented diet tomorrow.
“Room for one more?” Spencer leaned into the doorframe, a hand braced on either side. He was still shirtless, a colorful towel wrapped low around his hips.
Carlton narrowed his eyes at the younger man. “Would it matter if I said no?”
Spencer’s arms dropped to his sides, grin faltering slightly. “That… would depend on the question.”
Taken aback by an answer that actually sounded semi-serious, Carlton shrugged and inclined his head. “I’m, uh, almost done with the dryer if you need it.”
“I do, actually.” Spencer reached unceremoniously under the towel and his wet trunks made a smacking noise as they hit the floor around his ankles. He must have gone back in the water after Carlton went into the house for a shower. Spencer swooped to grab them and moved toward the dryer.
“Ah,” Carlton made a sound of protest and stepped in front of the machine. “After mine are done. Put those things in now and I’ll have to wait through a whole new cycle.”
“Or, they both get dry at the same time, and you get the pleasure of my company in the meantime. I could even whistle a jaunty tune to keep us entertained. Do you like Depeche Mode? Who’m I kidding? Everyone likes Depeche Mode…” Spencer was still clearly intent on opening the dryer door, but Carlton held his ground.
“Not gonna happen, Spencer. Wait your turn.” Carlton crossed his arms over his chest and planted both feet.
Stepping into his personal space, Spencer gave an almost coquettish flutter of his lashes that ought to have looked ridiculous on a grown man. Somehow, it only made Carlton want to grab him by the jaw and kiss that insolent mouth until it bruised.
“I have been waiting,” Spencer murmured, his eyes unmistakably flicking to Carlton’s mouth before returning to meet his gaze. One hand hesitantly extended forward to grip Carlton’s hip, his thumb curling over one hip bone. It was impossible to forget that Spencer was now fully and unabashedly naked below that towel, but Carlton felt stripped just as bare.
This was a far bolder move than he expected, considering how they’d been doing a silly little dance around one another for years, now. Clearly, Spencer felt encouraged by Carlton’s unintended reaction in the pool.
He inhaled slowly through his nose and bit the inside of his lower lip. “Spencer…”
“Look, Lassie.. Uh–”
“Oh no. I will not have you two fighting it out in my house.” Chief Vick’s voice made them both jump apart, Spencer’s hand flying back to grip his towel.
Spencer laughed a tad too loudly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, then tell Lassie here he needs to share the dryer. Even if he doesn’t want my boys all tumbling around with his.” He cocked one hip and held up the wet swimwear.
“I am not starting a new cycle just because you lack the patience of a–” Carlton began but was interrupted by Vick once more.
“Enough!” She held both hands aloft, palms out. “I only mother one person around here, and she’s in the TV room watching Sesame Street. You two: figure out your shi–stuff.”
“Is it a Cookie Monster episode? I feel like he and I share a spiritual connection, y’know?” Spencer grinned at her, charming as ever. Vick was already softening toward him as she agreed he could have a juice box and watch TV with her daughter once he got dressed.
Carlton grit his teeth. It was unbelievable how smoothly this man could switch gears, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Before he could continue that train of thought, the dryer buzzed. He dug out his still partially damp trunks and gestured toward the empty dryer. “There. All yours.”
Vick nodded in approval and swept away, ostensibly back to the rest of the dwindling guest list.
Spencer tossed his trunks in and closed the lid but turned to catch Carlton by the wrist before setting the timer.
“I can be patient.”
Carlton gave a derisive snort, even as his wrist tingled at the other man's strong grip. “Things I’ll believe when I see them.”
Spencer stepped closer once more. “I can. If I think there’s, uh. If I think something is… worth waiting for.”
Carlton looked down at Spencer’s hand on him and licked his lips. “Shouldn’t you be saying this to O’Hara?”
A little humorless laugh. “No, that train sailed some time after Abigail. We’re just friends. I think she might… actually nevermind. Not the point right now. Point is that, uh… If there’s maybe a reason for me to, y’know, think..." Spencer shook his head and scrubbed his free hand over the back of his neck. "Shit. Uh, I didn’t think I’d be talking about this today, and I may have a little bit of sunstroke or something. I mean, not that I’m not thinking clearly. But I know there is something. Here. And you know it, too.”
“Well, that was clear as mud.” Carlton gently pulled his wrist away, noting how Spencer kept shifting his weight, eyes flitting all over the room.
They’d both been drinking, though Carlton was reasonably sure he’d blow a 0.05% by now, which put him under the legal limit. He wasn’t sure about Spencer, who smelled mostly of chlorine and sunscreen– both strong enough to mask the scent of liquor. Spencer was starting to shake as the AC hit his bare skin.
Carlton grabbed another folded towel off a nearby shelf and wrapped it around Spencer’s shoulders, staying close so he could keep his voice low. “Look, uh. It was just friction, okay? Don’t. Um. Don’t read too much into it.”
Spencer finally met Carlton’s gaze and gave him a slow, pointed once over. Carlton felt his ears go hot as those hazel-green eyes lingered at his groin and chest, then the span of his shoulders. Involuntarily, he sucked in his stomach and straightened his shoulders.
Spencer grinned, smugness tucked into the corners of his full mouth. “Did you forget the whole psychic of it all? Like, you know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”
Carlton scoffed at the psychic claim, as he always did, but the rest was not worth trying to deny. Whatever Spencer’s game, the younger man was observant as all hell and frustratingly correct most of the time. They both knew he was right about this, too. But Carlton was not about to make it easy on him.
“Okay hotshot,” Carlton murmured, pursing his lips and tilting his head to one side with an appraising look of his own. “You think I’m lying? Fair enough.“ He turned on one heel to leave, adding over one shoulder: “Prove it.”