A Five Things Fic For Bob and Harry

Author's Note: A series of unrelated vignettes; some of them are completely AU and take our favorite boys out of the Dresden-verse world and slap them into another one. The character traits are the same, but I had to find a way to put Harry in nurse's scrubs...that particular image just couldn't be ignored forever. Each vignette is separated by bold text giving you the rating and whether it's AU or not. They're not all NC-17/Adult rated, some are a bit tamer. Also, corporeal Bob, no explanations.

Day Number 1: AU, NC-17
This came about because I've had "Harry in nurse's scrubs" on my list of things to write forever, and I've been watching House, M.D. pretty much on marathon this weekend. And because I want to make sure people know...it's AU, so Bob and Harry are pretty much the same, sans magic, just in a different situation. And, I've always wanted to write two people making out in a janitor's closet ;)

"Dr. Bainbridge!"

The white-haired man whom Harry was watching walk briskly down the polished hallway spun on his heel at hearing his name and his eyes locked on Harry. Bainbridge smiled slightly and walked back, meeting Harry halfway.

"Steven Rice has been stabilized, but the diagnostic team is running more blood tests and they're talking about doing an MRI. Dr. Smithson asked me to give you this," and he handed Bainbridge the patient file, "and that you look it over and contact her as soon as possible."

Bainbridge nodded, pulled a pen out of his white coat, and took the file from Harry. "Excellent. Thank you for getting this to me." And he smiled a little more. "I was headed out to lunch, care to join me?"

Harry looked down at his scrubs and grinned quickly. "And here I thought nurses and doctors didn't associate inside the hospital, much less outside it."

"Don't believe everything you hear, Harry." He motioned for Harry to follow him, and they walked down the hallway together. To any casual observer, hospital employee, patient, or family or friend of a patient, they looked like a nurse and a doctor conversing about a patient instead of making what appeared to be polite small talk. Strange between a nurse and a doctor, yes, because of politics and jealousy and just the general egotism, but not completely unusual.

But to the slightly more practiced observer, like the nurse who had manned the patient intake station in the emergency room for well over fifteen years, the sight of Dr. Robert Bainbridge, a well-known and distinguished cardiologist, and Harry Dresden, the well-liked head OR nurse who was excellent at his job and who earned the trust of his patients almost immediately, was something to note.

They were both important men in the running of the hospital, in the business of saving lives. They'd worked together on and off for a few years but had, as far as Marie could tell, never actually sat down and talked. Both were attractive men, in their own way, Marie thought as she watched them walk by her nurse's station in the ER. Dr. Bainbridge was stared at whenever he walked into a room, with his premature white hair, piercing green eyes, and alabaster skin that looked like it had never been touched by sunlight. Harry Dresden was a complete set of contrasts to Dr. Bainbridge, with his olive skin, brown hair and eyes, and tall, lean stature. Seeing them walking together, talking....no, chatting was a sight Marie mentally stored to drudge up later on, when she went home after shift was over and walked into her empty apartment. It really wasn't empty, since she had two cats, but she didn't think they really counted. She was a lonely woman who didn't get the kind of action she wanted, so watching these two together was the highlight of her day.

Because to Marie, it was more than apparent that the good doctor and the amicable nurse weren't talking about a patient. They were giving each other furtive little glances that the other would miss if they weren't looking at the right time, and they were smiling and gesturing the way two people did when they were comfortable with one another. And they did it with such a fluid ease that Marie knew these two were being more than just friendly.

She stood and leaned over her circular desk just a bit to get that last glimpse of them walking away from her. Oh yeah, she had some good things to replay in her mind tonight.

"So, have you decided yet where we'd like to eat lunch?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders before stopping quickly at another nurse's station to sign a form, then turned to Bainbridge. "You in a mood for something particular?"

That made Robert grin fiendishly. "As a matter of fact, I am." Those green eyes glinted for a moment, then they returned to normal. But Harry noticed, and Robert knew he noticed.

Robert stopped for just a moment as they passed his office so he could put the file Harry had given him into a drawer, then he jerked his head in the direction of a corridor that lead to the front of the hospital. Harry followed, stepping in stride with the doctor. "Doctor Bainbridge, Nurse Dresden, hold up!"

Both men whirled around and saw the tiny frame of Connie Bledin, a nurse in the OR, come flying at them. She was holding a stack of papers and was digging around in her pockets for a pen, but Harry stepped up, pen in hand. "What's up, Connie?"

"Huh? OH!" She grinned quickly and thrust a clipboard at Harry. "I need you to sign off on this, and I need you, Dr. Bainbridge--" and she all but tossed the clipboard at him, "to sign this. Real quick like, and I'll be gone."

Bainbridge chuckled at her cheery disposition, signed his name, and handed Connie the clipboard. "Thanks, Doc!" she said, accepting the paper from him, and then snatching Harry's from him just as he finished signing his name. "Thanks, Harry!" She turned to go, but spun back around long enough to ask, "Hey, Harry, we still on at Flannigan's, Friday night?"

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked, his smile wide. "I wouldn't miss the Flannigan Friday night out for anything. It's tradition, and heaven forbid I go against tradition, right?"

Connie nodded. "Duh, Harry. Sweet, I'll see you and everyone else on Friday." And she walked past them, calling another doctor's name and waving a clipboard.

"She is the highlight of the OR," Bainbridge said dryly.

"No doubt about that," Harry retorted, stifling another chuckle.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"I never told you what I was in the mood for." And Bainbridge winked at him.

Harry blinked, mouth dropping open slightly. The doctor gave one low, deep laugh, and walked on.

Harry scurried to catch up, following Bainbridge around a corner. But he once he rounded the corner, the doctor was nowhere in sight, and Harry looked down the left and right corridors, scanning for the sight of white hair. He started to turn back around when a tug on his scrub shirt hauled him backwards. Before he could fully comprehend what was going on, the sound of a door slamming and instant darkness encompassed his senses.

Two strong hands shoved him backwards and Harry's back smacked into something solid as his hands flew out to catch himself. The flick of a switch and sudden light had Harry blinking as his eyes adjusted to the janitor's closet he was in, and there stood Dr. Robert Bainbridge a few feet in front of him, eyeing him carefully.

And the role of meal for a starving man will be played by Harry Dresden tonight, Harry thought as his eyes traveled over Robert's tight body and landed on the doctor's burning eyes.

True, they had swapped the occasional glance or the bit of small talk when people weren't looking...and there was that one night that Harry's car had refused to start in the parking lot, the piece of shit, and the doctor had noticed and driven him home. Harry had invited him in, wanting to pay Robert for driving him home, and Robert had shut the front door and stilled Harry's hand as he reached for his wallet.

"No need, Harry," Robert had said in that rich British baritone. "No need at all. It was a pleasure." He'd left him with a smoldering glance and lingering touch on the arm.

Since then, Harry had been wanting to find the nerve to ask Robert for a date, since he was almost certain that the good Dr. Bainbridge, whom every woman in the hospital drooled over, was very much interested in the other sex. Maybe not gay, Harry himself certainly wasn't full-fledged men-only, but bisexual...absolutely. And very much interested in him, unless Harry had been reading the sly little glances and slow smiles wrong.

A shiver went up Harry's spine as Robert advanced on him, those cat's eyes pinning him to the shelves at his back. Mere inches from him, Robert leaned in and whispered, "Tell me if I'm wrong, Nurse Dresden, but I believe you and I have been going around each other for quite some time."

Harry moved his head to the left just a little and his lips brushed Robert's ear. "I think we have, Doctor Bainbridge, and quite frankly, I was wondering when you'd get up the courage to ask me out, since we both know you want me."

Those same hands that Harry had watched perform delicate heart surgery gripped his biceps with a remarkable strength, and those same lips that Harry had caught himself thinking on a little too intently every now and then closed over his jaw and swept downward. "I want you?" Robert asked incredulously, lips burning from the five o'clock shadow Harry always seemed to be sporting, "I think it's the other way around, my dear boy."

Harry chuckled, shocked to hear that deep, rumbling noise come out of his mouth, and he cupped Robert's face in his hands. "How about we both admit that we want to fuck each other's brains out and go from there?"

Robert's eyes widened just a tad before they narrowed, their jade green irises lust-darkened. "Agreed." And he smashed his mouth down on Harry's, devouring him. There was no time for slow and sweet, a kind of heady build-up that led into something even hotter; this was urgent need that they'd been caging for several months, and now it was getting released in a janitor's closet on the first floor.

Long, pale fingers clawed at Harry's shirt and he grinned against the lips that had been trying to eat him alive, pulling Robert's hands from him just long enough so he could tear away from the kiss and rip the irritating cloth over his head. They were both breathing hard through swollen and red mouths, bodies shaking slightly in paramount to the need that was hitting them square in the groins. "Don't you think we ought to just leave and continue this at my house? It's closer, and a janitor's closet isn't exactly the most romantic place in the world for our first fuck."

Robert snorted at that as he put his hands on Harry's chest. Harry bit his lip to keep from sucking in an unneeded breath and that made Robert smile. "I believe that using the words romantic and fuck in the same sentence tend to cancel each other out, Harry." His fingers slid up to grip Harry's shoulders as he whispered in a hoarse voice, "And besides, I want you now, not fifteen minutes from now as we stumble into your front door and tear desperately at our clothing." He bumped Harry with a hip and Harry was forced backwards, the shelves biting into his back.

"We can do that later, but right now is far more appropriate for a mindless fuck. I'll take you out on a proper date later."

"Think anyone will hear?" Harry asked, his voice hitching a little when Robert's lips settled in the hollow of his throat.

"Let them wonder just who it is that's commandeered the janitor's closet. I'm not worried, and neither should you be." Robert lifted his head and a slow, lazy smile made his lips curl up. "But not too loud, I wouldn't want to make those poor, lovely female nurses jealous."

Harry let out a growl and pulled at Robert's white coat, which was promptly stripped and discarded. Desperate fingers tore at the rest of their clothes, and when new skin was revealed, the other took a few tastes before getting rid of his own clothing and tossing it aside. Harry's eyes raked over Robert's naked body, appreciating the subtle strength in it.

Harry groaned and reached for him, and Robert complied. He had expected Harry to run his hands over his body, then follow it up with lips, maybe teeth, but he definitely hadn't expected Harry to tackle him to the cold floor, pinning him underneath his own heated body. "I see you're full of surprises, dear Harry," Robert purred right before Harry thrust experimentally against him. Both men groaned, their cocks sliding against each other, and Robert took that moment to open his eyes and watch Harry's face as it contorted in pleasure. Those brown eyes of his missed nothing as he examined patients and assisted doctors, and Robert had always appreciated those full lips that he knew many a woman had daydreamed about. The body that was holding him down and sliding against him was pleasantly flushed, the chest covered in hair that Robert wanted to tangle his fingers in and pull just hard enough to make Harry cry out. He thrust back against Harry's hips, which were a little wider than his own, but the man had a few inches in height on him, and that was even more obvious now with a glance at legs he knew were more than capable of holding him to the floor, or wrapping around his back as his cock slid home.

"So how do we go about this?" Harry asked innocently after coming up for air from another kiss.

"Well, seeing as how I'm the one pinned to the floor and the fact that I'm a gentleman...I'm more than willing to be the bottom in this case." Robert smirked as Harry's eyes rolled back in his head and those lips fell open in slight surprise and heady arousal. Never one to shun a golden opportunity, Robert spread his legs and grabbed Harry's cock, making the other man jump and give a needy cry. "Now, will you get on with it or are you going to make me suffer even more?" His voice dropped into a lower register while his hand fisted Harry's cock, and he said, "Don't make me have to keep dreaming about you and not have the real thing, Harry."

Harry's body was quivering from head to toe, but he reeled himself in enough to say, "Tell me you have a condom on you."

Robert smiled and his searching hand found the left front pocket on his slacks. "Pre-lubricated, even." He flipped the square package to Harry, who quickly unwrapped the condom and rolled it on. Harry hesitated just as Bob pulled his legs up and exposed his ass to him, and Robert saw a slight flicker of unease go through those brown eyes. "Harry, I'm not going to let you fuck me and then just walk away and never speak to you again. I'd do this right, with dinners and dates and dancing first, but I've wanted you for far too long, and I just couldn't hold back any longer." He reached up and traced his fingers over Harry's jaw. Their eyes met, and Robert said firmly, "And I will do this right, but right now...I want you, and I don't give a damn about anything else."

Harry stared heatedly at him for a moment, and then a smile broke over his face. "So shut up and kiss me." He leaned down, bracing his weight on his arms, and their lips met just as Harry's cock breached Robert's entrance. Robert hissed and accidentally bit down on Harry's bottom lip, making Harry moan, and in one swift, burning thrust, he seated himself inside that tight, silky heat. Robert cried out against Harry's mouth and Harry responded by jerking on the cock that was skating over his abdomen.

Robert thrashed in his grip and shuddered fiercely when Harry slammed against his prostate, his eyes wild, lips parted. He pulled Harry down for another kiss, this one all tongues and wet lips. But the kiss didn't last long because Harry pulled back and thrust in, making Robert arch beautifully against him, those pale fingers digging deeply into his ass in an attempt to pull him even closer. God, this was amazing, the heat and moisture and the sweat building on their skin, their mouths fusing every now and then as they drove straight into that deep, devouring, aching need.

It was fast and hot and as mindless as any quick fuck is, but each man secretly and silently vowed to make the next time...the first real time...to be far more memorable. Harry saw Robert's back arch one last time, and he rasped out Harry's name as his body tensed and Harry's stomach was splattered with come. The tight channel of Robert's body clenched around Harry at the moment of Robert's orgasm, and that drove Harry over that blinding white edge. Sparks shot up his spine and smacked into the back of his eyes, overriding any of the logical or sane part of his brain, and all he knew was the pleasure.

Robert watched Harry squeezed his eyes shut and his lips part as he said Robert's name, a cry that made shivers trace over the doctor's skin like the hand of an invisible lover. Harry gave one more hoarse utterance of passion, then slumped over Robert, who cradled his sweat-slick, trembling body in his arms.

They lay panting on the cold floor, curled around each other, sticky and sated. When the heartbeats slowed down and the sweat and come dried on their skin, they both got up, grinning, and when Robert turned to grab his clothes, Harry snagged him by the wrist and slammed him against his body, but the kiss was gentle and soft compared to the hands that held onto Robert's lower back. Possession Robert thought with a little jolt of lust. He wants me more than just this once, and now I know that for certain.

Harry broke away, that gorgeous smile of his lighting up his face. "Think we can sneak out of here quickly and head back to my place? No offense, but we're both kind of messy."

"Are you promising me a hot shower and maybe something to eat?" Robert teased as he tugged his pants back on.

"And maybe more," Harry said, pulling on his shirt. "If you're up for it. I can afford to take the rest of the day off."

"Harry, are you saying I'm not capable of taking a half a day off?" Robert said it with a slightly wicked smile, but his fingers shook a little as he tried to knot his tie. His body was still tingling.

Harry scoffed. "I've been here five years, you've been here for far longer, and the rumor mill says that in your twelve plus years at this hospital, you've taken a total of two days off." He drew Robert's hands away from his tie and began knotting it himself. "If you've got nothing pressing going on today, come home with me." He yanked on Robert's neatly knotted tie playfully. "We'll do this right."

Chuckling, Robert ran his hands through Harry's hair, and then reached for the doorknob. "I was going to be doing paperwork the rest of the day. It can wait." He cracked the door and peeked out. Not a soul in sight. "Come on, Harry. I'm not a patient man when it comes to my sadly deprived sex life."

Harry let out a short bark of laughter and slipped out the door behind Robert. "What is it with doctors and being pushy? Must be genetic."

Snickering, they hurried down the hall, turned the corner, and went out the front door, trying not to look too obvious. But Marie, who had been keeping a watchful eye out for those two sinfully good-looking men, spied them hustling out the front door of the hospital, and she caught a glimpse of the wide smiles, bright eyes, and slightly flushed skin before they headed for the parking lot.

Good for them, she thought as she handed a clipboard to another nurse. At least someone's getting some tonight.

She waved goodbye to Nurse Bledin and Dr. Morgan then turned back to her paperwork. She was going home to enjoy her cats, some dinner, and maybe an indulgent fantasy or two about the good doctor and Nurse Dresden.

Connie watched Harry and Dr. Bainbridge hurry out the front doors, then turned to Dr. Morgan. "So, got plans for this evening?"

Dr. Morgan looked down at her with a slow smile. "No, as a matter of fact I don't. Do you?"

She hooked her arm into his and they walked out to the parking lot. "Totally free."

* * *

Night Number 2: AU, PG-13
This one's a cliche-fic, and was a blast to write because I wrote something vaguely similar for another fandom a long time ago, and wanted to see if I could test these waters with our lovely boys. And you get a happy ending because...secretly, I'm a big sap and I just had to.


"Scotch, on the rocks."

Harry gave a sideways glance at the man who took the chrome and leather barstool next to him. Mr. Wednesday night had made his appearance.

Sitting in this posh gay bar, drinking rum and Coke, getting hit on all the time and being mostly embarrassed and a bit annoyed by all those guys hitting on him, Harry only came here on Wednesday nights anymore.

Just to see Mr. Wednesday night. Mr. Lonely, Broken-Heart with the white hair and the green eyes that looked like twin points of flame. No doubt that black trench coat hid a body that was firm and warm, easily capable of holding him, rubbing against him...and those hands, god...not that Harry had fantasized about any of those things.

Harry stared off into the distance, entranced by Mr. Wednesday night's deep British baritone as he asked for another Scotch. Fumbling for courage he knew he didn't have but was praying would show up anyway, Harry signaled the bartender and said, "His drink's on me, okay?"

The bartender nodded, took Harry's money, and slid Mr. Wednesday night his Scotch. And then Mr. Wednesday night himself, who had never so much looked at Harry in the two months or so he'd been coming to glow, turned his head and fixed those jade green eyes on him.

And then he smiled, just a tiny upward curve of those gorgeous pink lips.

Harry smiled back, though he was certain far less elegantly or seductively than Mr. Wednesday night just had. He watched the man take a drink, then turn completely on his barstool so that he was looking at Harry directly on. Harry turned in kind so that they were facing each other, and Mr. Wednesday night lifted his drink. "Thank you."

Harry lifted his drink in response and smiled even wider. "You're welcome."

The other man tipped his drink back and downed the Scotch in one shot. "I do love the Scotch they serve here. Best in town."

Harry chuckled. "Been to all the Scotch joints in town, huh?" And then he mentally smacked himself for such a stupid statement.

But the other man just laughed and put his empty glass down on the granite bar. "No, but I've been to a few. And needless to say, this place most definitely serves the best Scotch." He saw Harry cock his head, eyebrows raised, which made him ask, "Did I say something odd?"

"No." And Harry forced his smile to spread slowly across his face. "I just realized that out of all the nights I've seen you here, I've never seen you move off of that barstool." The other man looked at him curiously, so Harry said with a shrug, "There's a great dance floor out there, and I'm not saying I'm good or anything, but I wouldn't mind trying it out."

The man's green eyes pinned him down as he stared at him for a moment, and then he said quietly, "Trying it out with me, I assume?"

"Well, I'm sure that blonde-haired man sitting at that table," and Harry jerked his head across the club, "would be happy to accept my invitation, because he asked me to dance before you got here, but I kinda have my sights set on someone else." He held out his hand and said confidently as he could, "Name's Harry."

The other man took it without hesitation. "Robert."

Harry had to suppress a shudder at how Robert intoned his own name. It rolled right off his tongue in a tone that instantly told Harry this man was not someone to be trifled with. "Nice to meet you, Robert. Do you want to dance?"

Robert let out a short bark of laughter, green eyes sparkling. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"Not when there's a good song on." He motioned to the slow swirl of colored lights that were now spinning around the club. "They only put the colored spotlights on for the good songs. I've been watching."

This time, Robert chuckled, and that sound made goosebumps pop up all over Harry's body. Oh yeah, this guy was good. "Well, who am I to ignore what the colored spotlights and a man I just met say about the dance-worthiness of one song compared to another?" He stood and Harry followed suit, then Robert unbuckled his trench coat, quickly undid the buttons, and shrugged it off. Harry's eyes raked appreciatively over Robert's simple black slacks and deep plum button-down shirt.

"Am I to assume that the way you're staring at me is complimentary and not detrimental?"

Harry shook his head quickly, more to himself than to his newfound friend, and coughed. "Sorry, sorry. I just..." He raised his hands in the air while trying to come up with a good way to describe just how he was feeling without convincing Robert he was a total creep, and came up fruitless save for one word. "Damn."

That made Robert grin fiendishly. "Best compliment I've gotten in a long time, I must say." He tugged on the arm of Harry's shirt and motioned to the dance floor. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely." He followed Robert out to the floor, trying to wind his way between the writhing, moving mass of bodies that were all but humping each other amidst a throbbing beat, spiraling lights, and the obvious affect of alcohol on the libido. When Robert had found a half-darkened spot that seemed satisfactory, Harry turned and viewed the men around him. It wasn't all men in the crowd; a few hetero couples dancing closely and some straight or bi women on the fringes, watching the show and slowly sipping their drinks, eyes taking in the arousing display. A guy near them stripped out of his t-shirt and tossed it aside, and then turned back to the man he'd been dancing with and pulled him down for a kiss.

Harry turned away, slightly embarrassed and more than slightly aroused at the sight, and saw Robert smirking at him. "Sorry."

"You keep saying that, and I have yet to figure out why." Robert closed the distance between him and said in his ear over the pulsing beat of the music surrounding them, "You've nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. You're a good looking man in a gay bar, and you just summoned up the courage to ask the man who you've been staring at for the past two months to dance. Commendable, even brave, I daresay."

Harry swallowed hard and tried to pull back, but Robert wrapped an arm around his waist and drew him close. "You noticed, huh?"

"Oh, I noticed. I couldn't help but notice a gorgeous, dark-haired, dark-eyed man with full lips and a fantastic body staring at me every Wednesday night for the past two months." He ran his free hand lightly up Harry's chest and said heatedly, "Trust me, I noticed."

Harry bit his lip, which instantly drew Robert's eyes down to his mouth. "I was trying to be furtive about it, really."

"Do I look like I mind?"

Harry shook his head fiercely. "No."

Robert's hand trailed over Harry's shoulder and down his arm, where his hand grasped Harry's wrist and drew that long arm up over his own shoulder. "Then dance with me. Let's try out this dance floor you seemed to eager to sample."

The song playing ended and another one, heavier in beat, pounded through speakers hidden behind dark curtains. Harry let Robert draw him close, his eyes taking in the way the spotlights bounced off the shadows around them, but a quick thrust of hips against his made his eyes snap back into focus. Robert chuckled, low and deep, and Harry shivered. "You're good at this."

"At what?"

Robert seemed genuinely confused, so Harry replied in his ear, "This whole game people play when they come to places like this. Everyone's trying to figure out how to take someone home with them. You're good at it, better than most."

Robert's eyes darkened and the arm around Harry's waist tightened. "You say that like's it a bad thing."

Harry shrugged lightly. "It's not a bad thing, not really. Those of us who come here usually have nothing else." Another movement of the hips, and Robert licked his lips. Harry caught that and smiled slowly. "So are we playing a game, or are we actually going to try to do something other than just drive each other crazy all night long and wind up making out in the cab on the way back to one of our apartments?"

Robert turned in his arms and tipped his head back to say, "Well, I know two things for certain." He pressed himself back against Harry and met what was obviously the beginnings of an erection. He smiled to himself, trying not to think on the way Harry's hips cradled his ass perfectly, and continued. "One, you are a very smart, very observant man, Harry."

"And two?" Harry asked as he ran a hand over Robert's hip.

Robert spun back around and looked Harry dead in the eyes. "You're driving me crazy, and while I don't want to drink, dance, and then fuck, I would like to drink, dance, and then head over to that jazz club on 87th and settle in a booth in the back." He grinned. "Is that a workable plan, or am I being too forthright?"

The image of the deep leather booths shrouded in shadow at the very jazz club Robert had made reference to flashed in front of Harry's eyes, and what he saw there had him gently dragging Robert off the dance floor. "We can always come back some other time." He ran his fingers over Robert's lips and watched with heady arousal as Robert responded by closing his eyes and letting his lips fall open. "Those booths in that jazz club sound like a far better plan than watching me try to dance."

"Agreed."

They left quickly, shrugging on coats and buttoning them against the chill of a clear fall evening, and Harry hailed a cab. They got in and gave the driver their destination, then settled back on the worn seat. Harry shifted so he could look at Robert, then wrapped a hand around the other man's neck and pulled him close. "You forgot about the making out in the cab part."

Robert let his voice drop into a velvet purr when he replied, "So I did. How irresponsible of me."

Harry yanked his head down and slid his lips over Robert's, forcing a tiny, needy noise from the other man. But Harry kept it soft and gentle, only letting his tongue accept the invitation he was given towards the end of the kiss. And he didn't try to devour Robert, but swept his tongue over Robert's bottom lip and got the first taste of what would, later on, be a taste he wouldn't be able to live without. Just like he was holding a body he wouldn't be able to wake up without having beside him, connected to the soul of a man whom he would become attached to and ache for every single day.

And for someone who had tried and failed, and tried again and failed again, Harry didn't know it right then...making out with this exuberant, enigmatic man in the back of a cab traveling across downtown Chicago, but this man would come to be the one who didn't fail him.

* * *

Day/Night Number 3: PG-13
This one is actually TV-Verse and corporeal Bob, no explanations, but, again, cliche-fic (sharing one bed in a hotel room), and it's totally ridiculous and probably the dumbest thing I've ever written, but I hide nothing from the lovely B/H shippers. Feel free to embarrass me about this one, I deserve it.


Harry sat on the edge of the king-sized bed and looked around the hotel room. He'd asked for separate beds, he was sure of it, but when he and Bob had checked into the hotel, the very nice, very perky young woman at the front desk told him (in thickly accented English) that he had booked a one bed room and no, they didn't have any rooms available with two beds.

The bathroom door opening made Harry shift and look at Bob as he came into the room. "It's a beautiful hotel and a beautiful room, Harry. There's no need to fret over the fact that there's only one bed."

Harry's fingers absently stroked the heavy down comforter as he said, "Yeah, but I specifically asked for two. I don't know--I guess I just wanted this to be perfect for you." He stood and came over to Bob, who smiled softly. "I mean, you've been corporeal for just a few months, and then we get lucky and get a very rich client who wanted to thank us by sending us to friggin' Venice and who wouldn't take no for an answer." He sighed, wrinkling his nose. "It's your first time out of Chicago, and we get to be halfway around the world. And now this."

"Harry," Bob gently chided, "it is perfect. Have you seen the view off the balcony?" He drew Harry up off the bed and over to the doors that opened up onto the balcony. The city below them buzzed with activity; people talking in many different languages, the horns of scooters and carts as they wove through throngs of people, the smell of restaurants cooking, boiling, and baking dinners for tourists and locals alike. "This city is amazing, so rich and full of beauty, Harry. We're fortunate to be here to begin with. Let's not make a big deal over something as small as a simple clerical error." Bob touched Harry's arm and Harry looked up. "There's a foldout couch in the parlor area. I can sleep there."

"Wha-no, Bob," Harry protested. "No fucking way. I'll sleep there."

Bob rolled his eyes skyward, already frustrated with the stubborn side of Harry that was rearing its head. "How about this? We both sleep in the bed. It's certainly large enough for the both of us." He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile crossing over his face. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

This time it was Harry who rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Bob, I'm desperately afraid you've got cooties." He put his hands up in reluctant submission. "Fine, we'll do it your way." A finger jabbed Bob in the shoulder before Harry walked back into the room. "But if you snore, you're going in the next room."

"And here I thought you were a gentleman," Bob replied drolly as he watched Harry tug on a jacket against the slight chill seeping into the air.

Harry snorted. "I'm not above making you sleep elsewhere, or me sleeping elsewhere, if you're going to snore like a freight train all night long."

"Have you heard me snore before?"

"No," Harry admitted slowly.

"Do you think I'll snore now that we're in a completely different city?"

"No." A little more reluctance, as if he didn't know what Bob was playing at.

"Then why would I start snoring now?" Bob reached around Harry for his own jacket and put it on. "I don't snore."

Harry threw his hands up. "Okay, I get it. Whatever, didn't mean to offend you. Let's go find somewhere to eat dinner."

They walked to the door and just as Harry thought Bob would open the door, he turned, hand on the knob. "Do you snore?"

"Ugh, Bob!"

"I'm just asking-"

"No." He put his hand over Bob's and turned the knob. "Let's go eat. I'm starving, you should be too."

"I am." They walked out into the corridor that was dotted with rooms here and there, and started for the elevator. They didn't speak until in the elevator car, and then Bob turned to Harry, a smile on his face that Harry knew meant trouble. "Do you move a lot in your sleep, Harry?"

"Drop it, Bob."

"Consider it dropped."

"Good."

The elevator carried them down to the lobby and they moved through the people constantly moving in and out of the hotel. Once on the street, Bob scanned the restaurants nearby and spotted one that struck his fancy. "How about there?"

Harry looked to where Bob was pointing and grinned. "That looks great, let's go."

The two of them walked down the street, weaving their way through the crowds, and when they reached the restaurant, Bob turned to Harry and said, "I'm glad we're here, Harry. We're lucky to be here."

"Yes, we are." And Harry smiled, a thing that made his eyes light up and Bob's heart clench in joy.

* * *

Warm, strong fingers gripped Bob's arm and his eyes flew open. It took him a few seconds to reorient himself in the dark room, his mind whirling. Venice, Italy, middle of fall, cool air wafting into the room from an open window....Harry.

Bob reached for the hand on his arm and discovered that the arm wasn't the only part of Harry attached to him. They'd gone to sleep on their respective sides of the humongous bed, but at some point, Harry had rolled over and latched his hand and...Bob moved his leg and discovered it was trapped beneath Harry's...his leg onto him. He didn't have to look down to know that the warm breath on his chest was from Harry as well. Who else would it be from?

Harry had effectively snuggled against Bob's body, and from what Bob could make out of the blankets, Harry had been trying to bury himself in the bed as well. The covers on Harry's side were completely askew, wrapped around Harry's lean body in a tangle of 500 thread count ebony. Bob chuckled and tried to dislocate himself from Harry's grip, but Harry moaned softly and buried his face in Bob's neck.

Well, now. Bob tried lifting Harry's arm but found it weighed much more now than it did while Harry was awake...utter dead weight when he was asleep, this one. So Bob shifted his hips in an attempt to wriggle out from under Harry's body, but Harry chose that moment to sigh in his sleep, and those full lips that Bob didn't allow himself to dream about brushed over his neck. He shuddered, stifling a groan. The boy was going to kill him one of these days, what with his lips and those deep brown eyes and the way he gestured when he talked, which showed off hands and arms that Bob would give anything to have wrap around him.

I am in hell...again, Bob thought wryly as he tried once more to extricate himself from Harry's seemingly superhuman grip. I must be in hell because when I dream these things on my own, they certainly don't come true, and now.... Bob sighed and tried to make the best of it. It wasn't surprising that Harry had basically curled himself into Bob's body, since Bob had watched him more than once shift and turn and toss over and over again in his sleep. Their beds were across from each other at home, but the noises Harry made in his sleep were enough to wake Bob at least twice a week, but he only ever woke Harry up if it was evident that he was caught in the iron-clad grip of some night terror. The poor boy had enough nightmares to face while he was awake, he certainly didn't need them invading his rest as well.

So Bob did the only thing he could do, his body tangled with that of the one man he couldn't afford to tell the truth to. He reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers through Harry's hair, shocked at just how soft it was. Harry shifted against him, the leg thrown over his own pulling him even closer. Smashed together like that, Bob would have given anything to be in this very situation if it really meant something. But it wasn't...this whole thing was just a product of Harry's restlessness, and nothing more. To think on it too much would be torture, and Bob did want to try to get some sleep tonight.

He started thinking about their plans for the following day: breakfast, a trip to St. Mark's square and Basilica, lunch, then maybe a vaporetto ride up the Grand Canal if they weren't too distracted by the ancient architecture and absolutely stunning beauty of the city. Bob had never been to Venice, even when he was alive the first time, and he'd always thought that Venice was one of the few cities in the world that still managed to keep its heritance and beauty, despite all the modern-day conveniences and disruptions.

After dinner, he and Harry had strolled down the street, their eyes roaming the magnificent city around them. They'd only stayed out a little past dark, because no matter where you go, you must always be vigilant, and Bob was certain he and Harry had been made for tourists the second they'd set foot on Italian ground.

He'd watched with more than a little jealousy at how women who passed them looked at Harry more than just a little appreciatively. With his dark hair and eyes and olive skin, he almost looked like he had some Italian in him, and since he was taller than most people they passed, he posed an attractive figure that certainly wasn't hard to let one's gaze linger on. Oh, he'd gotten some looks as well, but he hadn't paid any mind. Women didn't interest him much, despite what Harry may have thought. He'd had women...one woman in particular, and he'd let himself be driven so deeply into what he thought was love that once he'd become corporeal again, Bob kept his distance from the fairer sex.

No, he had someone else in mind, but he could never be sure that that particular someone cared for him the way he did. They resided in the same
space, worked together, ate meals together, went out in public together...Harry had even taken him bowling once, and he'd quickly picked it up, much to Harry's dismay. They enjoyed each other's company, and while they fought and argued and occasionally hurled something at a wall in a snit, they did care for each other.

They cared for each other like two friends did. But Bob's feelings went far deeper than just that.

Bob sighed again and closed his eyes, hoping his exhaustion from the plane ride would carry him into the land of dreams, but not a mere twenty seconds after shutting his eyes did he realize that his hope was quickly extinguished. Harry was pressed up against him in a mockery of what Bob really wanted, and...gods, he could smell him, the scent of his skin and hair and the slightest tinge of the wine they'd had with dinner. Harry always smelled like magic and power and maybe something a little darker, but this close, this tightly entwined with him....Bob was going to go crazy if he had to stay like this.

He hated to do it, but he needed to wake Harry up so he could untangle himself from the other man's grip and then maybe, just maybe, he'd get some sleep. Fighting back a wave of disappointment, knowing what he was going to lose once Harry moved, Bob gently shook Harry's shoulder and said, "Harry, wake up."

Another shake, and Bob got a response. "G'away," Harry mumbled sleepily, swatting at him. His hand struck Bob's head and despite his exasperation, Bob smiled fondly.

"Harry, please, you rolled over in your sleep and now I can't move."

But this just made Harry snuggle deeper into Bob's neck. "Warm," he breathed. "Don't wanna move."

Bob struggled to keep his heartbeat from accelerating. He's just dreaming, or sleep-talking he told himself. He doesn't really mean he wants to stay like this. So he tried one more time, his voice just a little louder than before. "Harry, you need to roll back over. You've got me pinned and I can't even get up to use the bathroom." Bob closed his eyes and prayed that would work.

He was wrong. Harry's arm wound its way around his ribs and up, the palm of his hand resting on Bob's shoulder blade. "You don't have to go to the bathroom, you just want me to move," Harry said, his words slightly slurred with sleep. "Stop talking. Go to sleep."

"Harry, please." Gods, he hated the way he was practically begging, but if this boy didn't move...well, he wasn't going to be responsible for his own actions, what with Harry pressed up against him like. "I can't sleep when you're flush against me like this."

There, he'd said it. Bob waited a few beats for Harry's response, but only got a slight snore. Clenching his jaw and willing away the lust that was hitting him square in the groin, Bob tried one more time to get out from under Harry, but it was in vain.

Fine. Bob bit his bottom lip and hoped that this would work...and if it didn't, he was well and truly fucked.

His hand cupped Harry's chin and brought Harry's face up. Harry murmured something Bob couldn't make out, but he followed the pull of Bob's hand. When Harry's face was almost level with his, Bob brought his head down and brushed his lips over Harry's. He'd told himself that it would be just that, a simple touching of his lips against Harry's, but that simple touch made him want more.

Tossing out all rational thought and knowing full well that he was going to royally piss Harry off, Bob opened his mouth a little wider and kissed Harry more firmly. Harry didn't respond per se, but tried to mumble something again and wound up opening his mouth to Bob. What am I doing? Bob thought frantically as his tongue flicked out and tasted Harry's bottom lip. He groaned, clutching at Harry's warm body and closing what little space there was between them. His groin bumped Harry's and Bob tore his lips away, a choked moan struggling to fight its way past his lips.

He lay panting and holding Harry to him, wishing Harry would just wake up and boot him out of bed. It would be embarrassing and potentially a volatile situation, but at least then Bob would know where he stood. This was just torture.

"Bob."

Bob closed his eyes, a pained expression coming over his face, but he said, "Yes, Harry?"

Harry brought his head up and opened his eyes. "Why'd you stop?"

Bob's eyes widened and his mouth dropped opened in shock. His lips tried to form words, but it seemed his vocal chords had chosen that particular moment to stop working. Harry grinned at him. "Now that's something I've never experienced before...you speechless."

Bob swallowed thickly and managed to say, "You want me to keep kissing you?"

Warm fingers traced over his lips as Harry said quietly, "Okay, now you're just being oblivious, huh?" Those fingers traveled over Bob's jaw and then up, finally wrapping around the back of his head. "C'mere."

Their lips met just as Harry thrust up against him, and Bob knew bliss. Whatever he thought he'd had before, it was nothing compared to this.

If this is hell, I'll be happy to stay he thought as Harry's fingers interlocked with his.

* * *

Night Number 4: TV-Verse, Bob/Harry established relationship, NC-17
I couldn't resist writing this one. I wrote this close to Halloween and was in a rather festive mood. And yes, I'm bending the rules again, letting Harry and Bob have a DVD player, but I do mention that they've blown other ones up.


Bob looked up at Harry, who was grinning like an idiot and was obviously holding something behind his back. "Yes, Harry?"

Harry rocked back on his heels a bit before biting his lip. "Got a surprise for you."

One eyebrow arched. "Oh?"

Harry came around the desk and perched on the corner, looking down at Bob. Bob tried not to smile at the excited, almost childlike look on Harry's face, but it was hard. It was a rare treat to see Harry this happy, so Bob didn't want to spoil it. "A surprise? Please don't let it be like the last one."

Harry grinned even wider, seeing a hint of a smile on Bob's face despite his droll words. "No, it won't be like that Mel Brooks marathon, I promise." He brought his hand out from behind his back and waved a DVD case under Bob's nose. "It's two days from Halloween and I thought we could stay in tonight, watch a scary movie." He winked roguishly. "And maybe snuggle under some blankets."

Bob wheeled his chair closer and peered at the case, his curiosity piqued despite himself. After a moment, he pulled back, a skeptical look on his face. "And that's supposed to be frightening?"

Harry laughed. "To most people it is."

"People who aren't us and don't see the things we do every day."

"Exactly." The grin grew wider and he smacked his thigh with the case. "I knew you'd take to this."

"I haven't agreed to anything, my dear boy. Why in the world would I want to watch that?"

Harry shrugged playfully. "How about getting the chance to pick apart every inaccuracy and error while eating popcorn and groping under the blankets?"

This time both eyebrows went up, but the look on Bob's face was now of serious interest. "All right, but the minute I get bored, you're shutting that thing off and paying more attention to me."

"Pushy, pushy," Harry teased as he stood. "But if we start to get, oh...distracted, maybe...promise me you'll remind me to move the DVD player away from us so we don't set this one on fire like we did the last one."

"You started it," Bob protested. "I was minding my own business and then your hands started to wander."

Harry shot him a cheeky grin. "Couldn't help it. The people on the screen were making out, I wanted to make out..." He curled his fingers into Bob's shirt and drew him up, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. "Kinda like how now I want to make out just because we're talking about it." He brushed his lips over Bob's and then whispered in his ear, "How about we make out now before dinner, and then after I'll slam you against the wall and suck you off afterwards, and then we can watch the movie. Sound like a plan?"

Bob sucked in a deep breath but held Harry's gaze as he said, "My gods, a plan that will actually work. I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Harry huffed at him. "Just for that, I'm canceling the blow job."

Bob reached up and captured Harry's face in his palms. "Don't make promises you can't keep, darling."

* * *

"That's absolutely absurd. Why would she go running up the stairs when the killer's going to follow her up there, and she has no way of escape?"

Harry chuckled and shoved some more popcorn into his mouth. "It's a movie, Bob, not reality. Besides, by running up the stairs, that signifies to the audience that she's the next one that's going to die."

They watched for a moment as the very woman they were discussing was confronted by the killer. She took one look at the giant knife in his hand and screamed her head off before he stabbed her in the throat. Bob pulled a face at that, his nose crinkling in disgust. "I assume it's because this man is insane that he's going around stabbing people in the throat?"

"Yep." Harry shoveled some more popcorn into his mouth and then took a drink of the Coke sitting on the table beside him. "He's crazy, and he can't die, apparently. You can shoot him, burn him, drop him off tall buildings and he just doesn't croak."

"How droll," Bob said absentmindedly. "I think I liked that Hannibal Lecter fellow better. At least he had some style."

Harry shivered. "Uh, creepy. I'll never look at Anthony Hopkins the same way ever again."

Bob turned his head to look at Harry, fighting back a smile. "Clarice. Clarriiicee."

Harry swatted at him, laughing. "Would you stop that?"

"Hmm, no," Bob purred before he leaned in and nipped at Harry's neck. "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti."

Harry chucked some popcorn at him with a snort. "We are never watching that move again. Ever."

"Well it's certainly far better than that Napoleon whats-his-name movie you forced me to watch."

"Hey, I like that movie...I mean, with Pedro and the tater tots..." Harry started to laugh but saw the arch of Bob's eyebrows and abruptly stopped. "Never mind." He nudged Bob with his shoulder. "You're missing the movie."

"More mindless killing, I assume?" Bob ate some popcorn and watched with distaste as the killer slashed a couple in their bedroom and then put headstones on the bed. Wanting Harry to shut the movie off, or at least switch it with something he preferred, Bob set aside his bowl and then took Harry's from him. Harry started to protest but stopped when Bob crawled on his lap and forced Harry to lie back on the couch.

Flipping the blanket up over them, Bob sprawled his body on top of Harry's and kissed him deeply, enjoying the way Harry writhed and squirmed underneath him. He pinned Harry down with his hands and took his time working down Harry's neck, paying attention to his pulse point and Adam's apple. By the time Bob jerked his head back up, Harry was arching into his touch and keening, his skin gently flushed from Bob's ministrations.

Chuckling to himself, Bob undid the buttons on Harry's shirt and let it fall open. His hands roamed Harry's chest, fingers skimming down his sides and poking sensitive areas that Bob had come to know well. Tongue and teeth and lips trailed over Harry's skin, leaving him breathless and needing more.

"Patience, my love," Bob whispered against his stomach.

"Yeah, right," Harry said in a choked voice. "I'm guessing this is payback for earlier."

"This is payback," Bob said hoarsely, "for that mind-bending blow job you gave me after dinner."

That made Harry smile wolfishly. "Yeah, it was pretty good, huh?" His fingers dove into Bob's hair as Bob undid his belt, then the button and zipper that were getting in his way. He started to say something else, but the heel of Bob's hand rubbed over his clothed erection and Harry hissed, nearly jumping out of his skin at the contact.

Bob's hand forced him back down, and his lips quieted anything he may have wanted to say. Bob fumbled for a bit and then managed to get his hand under Harry's boxers, fingers brushing over hot, pulsing length of him. Harry ripped his lips away and moaned, clutching at Bob. "Fuck, Bob-"

"Do shut up, Harry." Bob quirked a smile at his lover before sliding down and yanking away Harry's jeans and boxers. He buried his face in between Harry's thighs, giving each one a soft bite before taking in the cock that was brushing his cheek. Harry threw his head back and groaned Bob's name as Bob's mouth teased the head before swallowing half of him with practiced ease.

The smell and taste of Harry made Bob's eyes roll back momentarily, his own sadly ignored erection growing more painful by the minute. He ran his
tongue along the underside, making Harry jump and grab at him, but Bob kept right along, not losing the quick, heady rhythm he'd already established. His hands gripped Harry's hips, making sure that Harry didn't try to choke him when those hips started thrusting.

When Bob gently bit down, Harry practically sobbed his name and snapped his hips up as far as Bob's hands would allow. Bob kept right on sucking and pulling on Harry's cock, until Harry was shaking and thrashing below him. One last bite, and Harry's body froze and he let out a strangled cry as Bob's mouth was filled. When Harry had given all he had and Bob had taken it all in turn, Bob let him go and shushed Harry through the quivers and gentle moans until Harry's eyes refocused and his arms wrapped around Bob, pulling him to rest on his damp chest.

"Holy hell," Harry croaked.

"Indeed," Bob said before planting a kiss on his jaw.

They lay there for a few quiet moments, steadying their breathing and running their hands over each other, when a scream cut through the silence and they both sat up quickly, looking around as the blanket they'd been under fluttered to the floor.

Harry pointed to the mini DVD player and started laughing. "We left the movie on, Bob."

"Damn," Bob said with faux resignation. "I guess we missed the best part."

"No, we didn't." Bob caught a flash of a smile before he was tackled back down to the couch, Harry's hands everywhere. Harry kissed him breathless before pulling back and saying, "Didn't you know watching a scary movie is just an excuse to make out and have sex on the couch?"

"I do now," Bob purred right before Harry ripped open his shirt.

* * *

Night Number 5: PG, TV-Verse, Bob/Harry established relationship


Harry stumbled into the office from the lab, giggling.

"Oh, gods," Bob said as he saw Harry weave drunkenly and then fall flat on the floor. "Harry, get up."

He walked over and bent to assist Harry, but Harry tugged him down and Bob landed on his ass. Harry rolled over and pressed a finger to his lips. "SSshhhh..." he giggled. "They'll hear you."

"I'm guessing the spell didn't go so well?" Bob asked as he gently swatted Harry's wandering hands away.

"Nope!" And then Harry rolled onto his side, caught in a fit of mad laughter.

Bob had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when Harry sat straight up and looked around like a dog with a scent, his eyes focusing on the wall. "Sssh...they're in the walls, Bob, they'll hear you."

"Then don't you think we best be quiet, so they don't hear our dastardly plans?" Bob asked as he tried to haul Harry to his feet. But the minute Harry was upright, he tipped forward and Bob had to catch him. "The next time you put together a mood lifting potion, I'm going to supervise to make sure this doesn't happen again."

Harry hiccupped then put his hands on Bob's shoulders, regaining his footing. "Bob, 'member I said...shhhh?" Harry said rather loudly in Bob's ear. "They can hear you!"

Bob pulled Harry away from his ear, wincing, then said, "And just who is it that's listening to us?"

Harry laughed, hiccupped again, then his face sobered and he looked Bob dead in the eyes before whispering, "Pygmies."

"Oh, as usual, dear," Bob mumbled, getting an arm around Harry's waist and turning them toward the stairs. "You need to sleep the potion off, Harry. I'm afraid that's the only solution."

"Okay!" Harry said brightly, peering down at Bob. "You're gonna take me upstairs?"

"Yes."

"Okay!" Harry slapped Bob on the ass, and Bob tried desperately to keep a straight face. "You're pretty, did you know that?"

"Now that you've enlightened me to that fact, I feel much better Harry, thank you." Bob steered them across the office and managed to get onto the first stair before Harry started to tip backwards. Bob grunted with effort as he kept Harry upright. "Move your leg, Harry. We won't get up the steps unless you move your legs with mine."

Bob knew he had said the wrong thing the instant a dark look came over Harry's face. "You always move your legs with mine," he said in a frighteningly close mockery of his voice when his head was clear. "You move your body with mine, when we're in bed--"

"That's enough of that, now," Bob shushed him. "Let's go upstairs."

"Upstairs," Harry said in a British accent. "Up--stairsssss..." He smiled at Bob. "I can talk like you, did you know that?"

"Yes, Harry, that was an almost perfect imitation of my voice." He nudged Harry, who just smiled some more. "Move your legs."

"Okay!" Harry replied. They got about halfway up the steps before Harry decided that was the time to try to kiss Bob. That movement threatened to send them both tumbling, so Bob made Harry balance himself on the railing and kissed him instead, hoping that would be motivation for Harry to get himself up the steps the rest of the way.

Harry kissed him back eagerly with too much tongue, and then there were the hands that left the railing and grabbed his ass. It might have been remotely arousing if Harry hadn't been high on a backfired potion.

When Bob forced the kiss to end by putting his hands on Harry's face and pulling him back, Harry pouted and pointed with a wavering finger upstairs. "Let's go upstairs, Bob."

"Yes, let's."

They stumbled up the rest of the stairs, breaching the landing and landing on the bed. The second his back hit the mattress, Harry was giggling again, hands resting on his chest as it rose and fell sharply in accord to his laughter. Bob shook his head and settled beside Harry, propped up on some pillows, and watched his lover giggle and hiccup madly.

"Harry, go to sleep," Bob urged softly. "You'll feel better in the morning. Besides, it's late and I know you were tired earlier."

Harry rolled onto his side and looked up at Bob. "Okay." The giggles seemed to have subsided, but Harry was still grinning widely. He reached for Bob, but Bob pulled the covers over Harry and shushed him, whispering to him that he needed to sleep.

"Sleep," Harry said slowly. "Sleep is good."

"Yes, Harry, sleep is good. Sleep is god, go worship." He stroked Harry's hair, running his fingertips over his scalp. "Go to sleep, my darling."

Harry started to close his eyes and Bob thought he might finally go to sleep. But Harry opened them back up and whispered, "Hold me?"

Bob didn't hesitate for a second. "Absolutely, my love." He drew Harry to him and cradled his love in his arms. "Absolutely."

* * *

And one hour they did spend together: PG-rated, mostly TV-Verse with a side of McAnally's thrown in, Bob/Harry established relationship.


Bob eyed the little red and silver machine with blatant distrust. "You expect me to ride that thing?"

"Yes, I expect you to ride it," Harry said with a smile. "It's better than getting around on foot, and we can get through crowds faster. Besides, it's only for tonight. I thought we'd try something different. We live in Chicago, but we rarely ever get to actually see the city."

Bob pointed at the scooter. "It's supposed to hold two people?"

Harry hopped onto the little platform and motioned for Bob to follow. "Yep. It's built for two."

Bob didn't move. "Where are the seats?"

"You're supposed to ride it standing up," Harry said, trying not to sound exasperated. "Just trust me on this, okay?" He held his hand out to Bob, who eyed the scooter one last time and then took Harry's hand. He stepped up behind Harry, who drew Bob's arms around his waist. "Just hold on."

Harry turned the scooter on, and the noise it made didn't do much to drown out Bob's grumbled protests. Harry steered the scooter down the street, slowly gaining speed, and chanced a glance back at Bob. The other man's eyes were a little wide and he was looking around as though he was afraid they'd hit some inanimate object if he breathed the wrong way, but other than that...Harry thought Bob looked like he might just be enjoying himself.

The brisk fall wind whipped around them as they made the corner and headed up another street, whizzing past parked cars and zipping in between the stalled evening traffic. The main streets of Chicago were clogged with people heading home from work, but the scooter allowed them to fly by without a hitch. A couple people honked at them as they wove through the lines of idling traffic, and Bob said in Harry's ear, "Do you think this is a wise idea?"

"I think it's a great idea," Harry said gleefully as he steered them through the maze of cars. "I think I like this thing so much that I might just buy one of these babies."

Bob groaned and held on tighter as Harry made a sharp turn. "Please tell me you're joking."

Harry laughed at the exasperation in Bob's voice. "Maybe."

"Hell," Bob said in a rather flat voice.

"Joking, I'm joking!" Harry called back. "Hold on, Bob, I'm going around this bus."

Bob tightened his grip again but closed his eyes this time, not wanting to see the seemingly inevitable crash they were headed for. A few seconds later, Bob opened his eyes to see them flying down the street, the bus far behind them. "We didn't crash?" he asked disbelievingly.

"You don't give my driving skills enough credit, Bob," Harry said with a smile.

"Well, seeing as how you can barely parallel park the Jeep-" Bob's voice cut off when they nearly ran into a bike messenger. The messenger flipped them the bird and rounded a corner while they continued on a straight path. "My gods, Harry, we almost hit that man!"

Harry snorted. "He was the idiot not watching where he was going."

"Hmm, I suppose he was too busy watching that brunette cross the street, eh?"

Harry chuckled. "I know I was watching her."

"Oh, shut up," Bob said in his ear. "I know who you watch, and it doesn't include pretty brunettes in short skirts."

Harry slowed the scooter down as they neared their destination, gingerly winding them around a series of trash cans and a few people smoking on the curb outside the bar, then came to a stop outside McAnally's. "No, it seems to include stuffy, white-haired, British men with egos bigger than their-"

Bob's fingers on his lips stopped the rest of Harry's sentence. "Don't even think about finishing that thought, Harry Dresden."

Both men heard a chuckle and turned to see Murphy standing there, grinning. "Nice scooter, Harry. Forget how to drive the Jeep?"

Bob stepped off the scooter and Harry followed suit. He shot Murphy a glare, and Murphy just kept grinning. "No, I decided to do something different. Leave me alone."

Bob shot Murphy a look and they both started laughing, which made Harry scoff at them and head inside.

"He'll never admit he rented that scooter because he can't find his keys to the Jeep," Bob said between chuckles.

Murphy put her hand in her pocket and drew out a set of keys. "You mean these keys?" She tossed them at Bob, who pocketed them with a grin. "How long should we wait to give them back?"

"Oh, at least until he's had a few beers. By then, he may not feel up to glaring at us."

Murphy snorted and followed Bob into the bar, glad she kept out those extra couple of twenties. At least with those she could buy Harry enough beer so that Bob could slip the keys back into Harry's pocket without him noticing.