MAC 

"How about dinner?" I ask, knowing the answer already. He'll say- "Nah, got some errands to take care of," Vic replies, oh, so casually. "Why don't I stop over later?" 

Uh huh. "Later? How much later? Say... bedtime?" 

He grins. Bastard actually grins at me. "Sure - around eleven good for you?" 

"Yeah, sure. Eleven's fine." What else can I say? Despite our 'new beginning', you know - the one that started with 'I love you' from both of us - nothing's really changed. 

Sure, we get together more often outside of work - he comes to my place, or visa versa, arrival carefully timed for a minimum of conversation and a maximum of fucking. 

Not to say I don't enjoy the sex. I do. It's beyond fantastic, actually. But... Hell, I don't know. It seems that we can't manage to be friends and lovers at the same time. Before - back when we were just starting to establish our friendship - we'd go out, do things together. You know, the normal friend things people do... hockey games, football games, meals out before or after the game, evening at a bar, the occasional movie. 

Not any more. Nope. We work together - and if I value my life I WON'T give Vic any sign that I think of him as any more that a partner at work. In the beginning, we'd spend most nights together - now, he always has some excuse to leave early. Even on the weekends. We fuck, then he's outa there - NEVER sleeps over anymore. 

Basically, for all my trouble, I've lost a friend and gained a fuck-buddy. 

And really, that's all we were to begin with - except for the frequency of the fucking, that is - used to be once every couple of months, now it's just about every night. I'm determined that this time, no matter how late Vic shows, we will talk about this. 

Of course, by the time eleven o'clock swings around, and he finally turns up, we're both too tired for a long discussion. 

After a bout of particularly hot and feverish sex, we're lying in my bed, arms about each other. Vic breathes quietly in sleep and I'm wracking my brain trying to think of a way to broach this without sounding like a romantic sap complaining about a lack in our relationship... Jeez, makes me feel sick to my stomach. I don't want Vic viewing me as a pathetic whiner, but neither do I want to keep letting Vic call the shots. We'll never GET to the love or the friendship and I'll have lost exactly what I had tried to gain. 

I lay awake most of the night thinking long and hard about how to handle this situation. Finally, somewhere around dawn, I come to a decision. Vic's not gonna be particularly happy about it, but, we'll be okay if I can just make him understand that it's the only thing to do right now - explain my fear of losing him altogether... 

Finally, I relax enough to doze off. In fact, I sleep so deeply that when the alarm goes off I have one hell of a time dragging my weary self out of bed. Sluggishly, I go through my morning routine, stumbling into the shower, shaving and then dressing in slow motion. 

Vic's long gone, of course - he never has brought a change of clothing over on those nights he spends here. No toiletries, either. Goes home every single goddamned time - as if showering here is just too intimate for him. 

Damn him! 

Once I arrive at the Agency - late again - I'm determined that we'll talk today. I will make SURE that I let him know how used he makes me feel - how very much I miss our friendship. 

I sit in a distracted daze throughout the morning briefing, and - for once - the Director doesn't notice. Well, okay, I'm sure she notices, thankfully, though, she ignores my absent-minded and minimal participation. 

As we rise to leave, she commands my continued presence with one word, "Mac." 

Damn! 

Turning back, I stand silent until we're alone. I clear my throat uncomfortably. "Uh, listen, I REALLY need to talk to Vic this morning - before I lose my nerve." 

She stares at me assessingly for a beat, expression revealing nothing. "Yes, Mr. Ramsey, I expect that you do. Just don't... don't burn any bridges." Her eyes actually drop, looking away from mine. "I'll be here - if you need someone to talk to afterwards." 

Oh. Well, now... How very unsettling. And comforting, in a VERY odd way. 

And, although unexpected, welcome - I'm not looking forward to Vic's reaction when I try to get across to him what I need to leave those bridges standing. 

"Thanks," I murmur, before tearing out after Vic. 

I catch up with him in the hallway. "Heyyy," I say, going for the light-hearted nonchalance we once enjoyed - before the sex got in the way. "Forgot to ask last night - I thought we could catch the hockey game at the bar after work, maybe have a drink or two. Whaddya say?" 

Obviously my bantering falls short, for Vic turns to me with that puzzled crease between his brows. "Why can't we watch it at my place?" His frown turns into a leer after he looks about, ensuring we are alone. "That way we don't have to worry about onlookers." He waggles his brows at me. 

I clear my throat. "Well, that's kind of what I meant, actually. Look, Vic, we don't ever do anything anymore except fuck and I was hoping to get back to the good old days. You know, a drink, a game, go out somewhere." I halt as a frighteningly dark expression cross Vic's face. 

"I thought we'd progressed beyond the courtship phase," he growls. That deep husky voice never fails to make my cock twitch in my pants, a particularly dangerous reaction especially when we are on a job, but this time... This time I don't rise to it. 

I stop him with a hand on his arm. "Vic," I say tiredly, "I never wanted to lose your friendship. I didn't tell you how I felt about you so that I could lose a friend." 

Vic stares at me like I'm nuts. 

I rub my face with one hand and I don't look at him. "Maybe - maybe we should try something different. I don't want to lose you, but since we've had The Talk, things are changing. Maybe things SHOULD change. Hell, I don't know. Maybe we should just leave out the sex for now and try being friends again." 

Vic's brows rise alarmingly high, his tone almost accusatory. "You want us to stop fucking and just...'hang out'?" 

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. Vic, I'm not complaining - well, maybe I am. I just think that we should focus on the friendship as well as the sex, that's all. The sex is great - hell, it's MORE than great. But -" 

"I can't believe this." Vic glares at me. "So the past few weeks didn't meet your expectations, huh?" 

"C'mon, Vic, you're taking this the wrong way. I didn't-" 

"Actually, I think I'm getting the message loud and clear, Ramsey. Thanks." He moves off, striding down the corridor, leaving me cursing silently. 

Well, I seem to have fucked up yet again. 

Will I EVER figure this guy out? 

After hour upon endless hour of surveillance on some dirtbag the Director wants watched, I'm no closer to figuring out what to do - except, I'm sure that what our relationship has evolved into is hurting both Vic and me. And I know that I, at least, can't go on this way. 

Once LiAnn relieves me, I head straight over to Vic's place. WE have to talk this out. I NEED him to understand how I feel. 

Predictably, he's not thrilled to find me at his door. "Yeah?" He greets me in a surly tone, reluctant to open the door to me. "What is it, Mac?" 

"We need to talk, Vic. The way we left things this morning..." 

He sighs and throws the door open, walking away before I've even crossed the threshold. Sits on the couch and fixes me with that blank stare I hate so much. After I wander the room for a time, he clears his throat. "So?" he asks impatiently. "You wanted to talk? I'm all ears, Mac." 

Yeah, right. I can just see our relationship ending in his eyes - and I can feel it in my heart. 

"Look," I say, collapsing into a chair, "my feelings for you haven't changed, Victor. I love you... but, well, like I said, I never expected that the physical part of our relationship would put an end to our friendship." I gather my courage and continue, "I MISS you, Vic. I miss talking to you, joking around, and spending time together. Can't we... can't we at least TRY to regain our friendship?" 

Quietly, Vic replies, "I thought we WERE friends. I thought that's what we were doing here." 

Oookay. Obviously we're well into denial, now. Carefully, I say, "When was the last time you WANTED to talk to me? About anything?" 

Vic looks taken aback. "Mac," he says, helplessly raising both his hands, "what do you WANT from me? We DID talk. I thought everything was fine. So what's the big deal?" 

I'm starting to get nervous now. We aren't even speaking the same language. His attitude is really starting to piss me off, too. It's not like I want us to sit around knitting like a couple of women, yakking, or acting like a couple of starstruck teenagers holding hands. Is it too much to ask for a little bit of friendship in the equation? Am I expecting too much from him? I'm also getting pissed off with myself for not being stronger after our declarations of love that day. Of course, Vic is irresistible and all it takes for him to crack me is That Look or That Growl. I'm mush on the floor and all he has to do is pounce. But I can't afford that weakness - this time. I sigh. 

Arms folded defensively across my chest, I stare at him. "Victor, you're using sex to avoid having a real of relationship with me. Again. Don't give me that look; you know exactly what I'm talking about. You're using it to shut me up and shut me out. I really think we should take a step back and look at what we have here. If we aren't friends and we aren't lovers... if we're just fucking, then how is this supposed to last? Or maybe that's the point?" 

Vic looks wounded AND pissed off. "Just fucking? Is that what you think? Jesus, Mac, I said I love you - how many times do I have to say it? Is it the lack of repetition that's making you question this?" 

"No," I reply with another sigh. "It's the fact that it's so obviously a burden for you to have to say it." 

Vic doesn't answer but he's fuming - quietly... inside. God, if only I could get into that head of his and see just what the hang up is. 

I lick my lips and add, "I want you as a friend, too, Vic. Not just a lover. And I'm serious about this. I think we should give each other some time to rediscover our friendship. We used to hang out together. Now we just fill the time with frantic sex and I kinda miss the guy I used to hang out with." I'm sincere about every word. It's true that this isn't the ideal relationship I had dreamed of having with him before we had That Talk and the make-up sex afterwards. The reality is nothing like my fantasy. I guess sometimes you have to give up the fantasy in order to keep the reality. 

"If that's really how you want it," Vic says, in a tone hinting of acquiescence, although I can see he isn't happy with this arrangement. Yeah, right. No more frequent fucks, so convenient and available at his whim. What a- a- a GUY. I stifle a bitter laugh and shake my head slightly. I wonder how many hearts I broke with that exact attitude. 

The funny thing is, I do love him. More than ever. Can't he see that? I guess it doesn't matter how many times I tell him I love him, if one of us isn't screwing the other's brains out, it isn't genuine to Vic. So I'll have to show him - prove to him that we can be friends despite the passionate spark that I feel even now between us. 

The desire to just give in to him is overwhelming but you know something? I can't. Not this time. I'm not gonna let the little head rule. I'm bigger than that. I just hope that Vic is, or this isn't going to last much longer. 

"Thank you, Vic. I know - I know you don't really understand what I'm talking about here. I really appreciate you making this effort." Stumbling over my words, I quail under his carefully blank expression. "So, how about if we go out for a drink - tomorrow, maybe?" 

He shrugs. "Sure, Mac, whatever you want." 

Left with NO doubt that he's completely oblivious to my reasoning, my feelings, I wonder suddenly if I've managed, once again, to alienate him by asking for more than he's prepared to give. 

I CAN'T let these thoughts change my mind, though. I want him, I need him, I love him - but, dammit, I miss my friend. 

I miss him so fucking much. 

And, I have a sneaking suspicion that this need of mine will make or break us. 

Deciding that I'd better get gone before he turns that LOOK on me, seducing me into his bed, I set my glass down decisively and rise to my feet. "Tomorrow after work?" I ask. 

"Yeah, Mac. Tomorrow." 

I settle for that - I have no choice, not if I intend to follow through on this - but I can't leave without leaning over to give him a quick kiss. Jesus, I hope it isn't our last kiss. 

"I - Vic, I love you," I say as I reach the door. "Please believe that. Don't ever forget; I DO love you." 

Silently, he watches with expressionless green eyes as I walk out. 

VIC 

I lay back on the bed in the dark, feeling numb. I can't believe I let this happen. He's had his revenge, and I gave it to him - handed him the advantage, let him do it first. Cutting off the physical intimacy. DAMN it. Why did I trust him? I let my feelings override good sense. As per fucking usual. I'd had a feeling that he was playing me. Everyone knows what a sucker Victor Mansfield is for a bleeding heart. Not to mention that I felt guilty, responsible for his suffering... He HAD said he was in love with me. In fact, he says it again and again. But if he's in love with me, why is he pulling away? I feel betrayed. 

And... embarrassed. Maybe a little shamed for having fallen for him after all. Yeah, all that and I'm hurt. I just don't get it - I thought we were okay, thought things were going well. 

Yeah, sure, Mac, let's be friends. 

Is this what it felt like when I hurt him, before? Fuck. It feels like - like my heart's been ripped out. 

And then he exits saying that he still loves me. Ri-iiight. That's why he's cut off the closeness, the sex. Damn it, he can't deny that the sex is hot. It always has been. Maybe he's just uncomfortable with the fact that he's having hotter sex with me than with any other, any female lover - whoops, 'friend', in his life. 

I'm trying to see where I went wrong. It CAN'T be the sex - I know he likes it. Wants it. Fucking needs it, the same as I do. I can feel that instinctively in my bones. And in one bone in particular. 

And that's when it hits me... This is emotional blackmail. He can't DO this to me. Can he?