Sometimes, Things Just Happen

Post 0/?: Sometimes, Things Just Happen (working title, subject to change)
DISCLAIMER: We do not own "The Magnificent Seven," the characters or the concept for the show. To the best of our knowledge, it is owned by MGM Television, the Mirisch Corporation and the Trilogy Entertainment Group. We are not making any money off of this work of fiction and have written it purely for the free enjoyment of adult fans and to encourage the continual enjoyment of "The Magnificent Seven" by fans who enjoy this sort of thing. Mog came up with the ATF universe, we are only playing in her very friendly sandbox. "A.T.F." the movie is owned by Columbia TriStar Television, Inc., Round 2 Productions and distributed by ABC. We have adapted some of the ideas and plot devices of that movie to the purposes of this fic, with all praise to the copyright holders of said movie, in parody. We highly recommend checking out the movie, as it is very entertaining.
WARNINGS: Violence... We're working with ATF agents here, people. Guns and bombs pretty much come with the territory. Maybe a little het content in this series? There may be some minor mentions of a possible Chris/Mary relationship, flirtations between Buck and Inez and JD and Casey, as well as past relationships between Ezra or Vin and other women or men... If these appear, they will be very minor and not explicate, and only in a context that furthers the story or the definition of characters.
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Ezra/Vin with a side of Buck/JD... sorry, we just see it that way and can't fake that we don't just for some people's comfort levels. But we think you'll like it if you give it a chance... even if it might be in a guilty pleasure kind of way...
SUMMERY: ATF Slashfic. Team Seven continues to work together and settle into life in Denver as relationships evolve and new dangers appear on the horizon.
STATUS: new, work-in-progress
AUTHORS' NOTE: We realize that in Mog's dossier, Nathan is the explosives expert of the group. Sorry, it just wouldn't work for the plot if that were the case, so Vin has acquired another talent, one which we believe makes sense for his character. Nathan is the team medic and the forensic expert. The degrees in Biology and Chemistry will come in handy. "Lady Luck" and all the other paint colors described in this fic are real paint colors, available from Behr. You can look them up online at http://www.behr.com and they are available at your local Home Depot (I have no affiliation with either. I just really like Behr's colors.). This story is set in 2006. Similarities to the 1999 made-for-TV movie "A.T.F." are not coincidence. This story is, in part, inspired by the film. It's pretty good, and we highly recommend checking it out.

Sometimes, Things Just Happen
By Lila-Blue and Remadi

Chapter 1

Nearly three months after Team Seven, the newest addition to Denver's ATF Field Office, was formed, they completely wrapped up their first major case. There had been a gang which had been trying to turn into a small, up-and-coming organized crime ring, making their name and their money by running illegal firearms between Native American Indian reservations throughout Colorado right under the tribal authorities' noses. The Seven had organized a sting operation, in coordination with the law enforcement on the reservations, to stop the gun running and take the gang leaders into custody. It had gone down well, though Buck had been injured protecting JD from harm. But he was making a full recovery and they had succeeded in shutting down an operation that had quickly been becoming a major threat to the entire Southwest region. Other teams down at the Bureau were saying it was beginners' luck. Team Seven was paying no attention to the jealous mutterings of their colleagues. As soon as Buck was back on his feet, the bad guys all locked up in the clink awaiting trial, and the last of the paperwork was turned in to their superior, Assistant Director Orrin Travis, they decided to meet up at "The Saloon," a local pub they all quickly had found to their liking. They drove their cars to their homes first and took cabs back into town, knowing that serious celebrating was about to commence.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Buck called for the attention of the rest of the team, clearly more than tipsy, just like the rest of them, and as jovial as any man could be. Clearing his throat, he held up his newly filled beer mug. "A toast! Ta the *best* *damn* *team* the ATF has *ever* seen or *ever* will! Woo yeah!"

A chorus of good cheer was followed by the clinking of mugs all around and generous gulps.

"Oh man..." JD sighed, setting down his mug, as the laughter lulled. "I'm done, guys. I won't be able to open my eyes tomorrow."

"Aw, lightweight!" Buck teased.

Miffed, JD informed, "I'll have you know that unlike you, Buck, I like to be able to get out of bed before noon on Saturday every now and then."

"Is that so?" he mocked innocuously. Leaning lazily on the table, supported by his elbow, Buck's eyes met JD, going soft, and his mustache twitched with amusement. "And what if I give you a reason to stay in bed instead?" He ended with his trademark smile, that lit his eyes with mischief, the one that had melted many a heart over the years but for the last several weeks had been reserved for just one.

JD groaned, possibilities swimming with the alcohol in his brain, and after a moment, he turned his attention back to the rest of the table as he stood up, rather steadily considering, though he leaned heavily forward on the table's edge. He tried for a nonchalant tone. "We better be getting home, guys. See ya Sunday for the game."

"Kick-off's at four," Chris reminded, an amused grin on his face that was mirrored on those of the rest of Team Seven. JD had moved into Buck's apartment the first week he had arrived in Denver because of a mix-up with the apartment JD was supposed to have rented. They had become fast friends, and within a few weeks, the rest of the team had noticed that they had become more than that. Chris had taken Buck aside and, as his old friend and team leader, asked if JD's and his relationship was serious. Buck didn't know how or why he had gotten so lucky, and he wasn't about to start jinxing things, trying to apply labels and limits, but it looked like it definitely was serious. Chris was happy for them both, especially Buck who, despite his open and friendly nature, had never found anyone who was a good match for him, but Chris was still worried about the implications for the team dynamic. So far, everyone else seemed as okay with the situation as he was though.

Pulling on Buck's shirt collar, even as Buck attempted to down the rest of his beer before standing, and backing slowly away from the table, JD added, "Come on, old man, let's see if you can even make it home before you fall asleep."

Buck scowled and put the near-empty mug down with a thunk. "Oh, I'll show you, kid!" He had a bit of foam clinging to his mustache, which totally ruined the threatening effect.

"Uh-huh..." JD laughed. He'd kiss it off once they were in the cab. "'Night, guys!" he called over his shoulder, before disappearing out the door to flag a cab with Buck in tow.

Josiah was the next to stand. "My bed's callin' for me too, 'm afraid. Nathan, you want to split cab fare?" They lived within just a few miles of each other, so car-pooling was a good idea.

"Sure. G'night, y'all."

"G'Night," Chris, Ezra and Vin said in unison.

Nathan tossed his share of the tab on the table where Buck's, JD's and Josiah's already lay waiting for Inez to clear away, and they left.

That left Chris sharing the table with the last two agents he had found for the team.

Ezra Standish was "on loan" from the FBI, but they weren't likely to be asking for him back anytime soon... And after reading about all the trouble that he had endured with unreliable contacts while undercover, Larabee wasn't likely to be returning him anyway. Standish was a valuable member of the team, cool under pressure, a born mimic, deadly when necessary, but not trigger-happy, and talented in a variety of areas, not the least of which was that he could read his targets as easily as most people could read a newspaper. Before being placed in the Atlanta FBI Field Office, he had earned a BA in psychology to augment his natural knack for the subject and a MBA, and he had served several years on the Vice Squad of the Atlanta PD with two commendations for outstanding service.

Vin Tanner was likewise talented, and as an Army Ranger he had become a trained sharpshooter. With the right gun, he was dead-on accurate from more than a quarter mile. He knew his weapons too. Name or give him a picture of just about any gun made and he could give you the stats from memory. Since joining the ATF, he had begun studying up on bombs, their composition and how to defuse them, quickly becoming an expert in that area as well. He had overcome dyslexia during his late teen years, and while in the Army, earned a BA on the GI Bill before he was 24 years old. In the intermittent years, he had worked as a bounty hunter in Texas and then as a weapons expert with the US Marshals out of Dallas. Vin had an open and kind nature, but Chris knew from the Marshals' reports that he could be downright vicious when questioning a perp.

Though he didn't know all of the details, Chris had the feeling they had both had a difficult time of it growing up, though their circumstances couldn't have been more different.

"Penny fer yer thoughts, Chris?" Vin had noticed the odd silence that had overtaken him.

Snapping out of his musings, Chris replied with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, as was typical of him, "Oh, just thinking I oughta be headin' home." With that, he stood, shoved some money into the growing pile for Inez and headed for the door. "See ya Sunday, four."

"That jist leaves you an' me, pard." Vin's head lazily swung around to face Ezra sitting next to him.

Ezra was nursing only his second beer, despite the fact that the celebration had continued for almost four hours, including dinner. Vin had had four. Buck and Josiah had both gotten beyond the rest of them with an impressive seven each, no doubt body mass and long years of practice making a difference.

"Seems it does, Mr. Tanner," Ezra replied, staring into his mug as he lifted it and drained the dregs.

Vin, still feeling a buzz, turned more fully toward Ezra and leaned an elbow on the table. Genuinely curious, the alcohol dropped any filters there might have been between his brain and mouth. "Why do ya call me 'Mr. Tanner?' Ya can call me 'Vin,' ya know? Everybody else does."

Setting the mug down, still staring at it, and running his pointer finger through the moisture on the outside of the glass, he said, "I like using formal appellations."

"Mm-hm. 'S'pose that explains it well enough." Vin was still trying to puzzle out the gentleman from Georgia. There was something about him that he found ultimately intriguing, masks over masks, that fell away in rare quite moments, revealing glances at the hidden depths in the jaded jade eyes.

Ezra was likewise intrigued by the quite man with sky blue eyes that showed his soul so easily. He didn't know how Vin could leave himself so open so much of the time. It scared him a little and, at the same time, made him feel oddly at ease. It wasn't something Ezra was used to, but part of him wanted to grow accustomed. "It's getting late."

"Yeah."

Ezra finally glanced away from his mug and dropped his hand to fish a few bills from his wallet. "We should get going."

"Yeah." Vin's tone was... almost sad. He was enjoying Ezra's presence. With anyone else, the lack of flowing conversation would probably be awkward, but with Ezra... it just wasn't.

"Listen, Vin," Ezra began, "would you like to stay at my place tonight?"

Vin's eyebrows stretched skyward.

Ezra hastened to clarify. "I don't mean to suggest anything untoward, I assure you. I have an extra bedroom and it's a long way out to Purgatorio from here. I could drive you out to your place in the morning." Purgatorio wasn't a very safe neighborhood. With Vin tired and inebriated, he might get into a situation from which he couldn't extract himself... however unlikely that would be for a man like Vin. Ezra told himself that he was only concerned for his person. "It wouldn't be an imposition."

Vin was clearly torn as to what to do, but... "If you're sure I wouldn't be a bother..."

"Vin," Ezra scoffed, "I seriously doubt you could ever 'be a bother.'"

Vin nodded, reached into his pocket to add to the pile of money, and looked Ezra in the eye. "A'right then." He smiled, the expression making his face light up and eyes sparkle.

Ezra was caught and thought for a moment that perhaps he'd made a mistake inviting Vin back to his place to spend the night... in the spare bedroom. Clearing his throat, he said, "Let's get a cab."