Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Common Ground ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

Title: Common Ground, 9/9

Rating: R (M)

Timeline: After the Epilogue. Contains massive spoilers for the whole series.

Disclaimer: I'm not Matou Sanami, JJ's not an idiot and Drake exists, dammit.

Summary: A series of seemingly gang-related murders puzzle Drake and JJ... as if they didn't have enough trouble with their personal lives.

Author's Notes after the story.

 

 

Feel the rhythm, sweetest sound / Making, breaking sacred ground

-New Order: Times Change

 

The hospital room was just a little too bright for Drake's comfort. His eyes stung as if he hadn't used them for weeks. He found himself blinking and squinting in order to make out the figures of Dee and Ryou who were leaving the room. Drake turned to look at JJ, settling more comfortably against the pillow. Even that small movement made the world lurch and go blurry for a second. Closing his eyes for a second, Drake took a raspy breath and grasped for focus. It was not as if all this was new. He had been knocked on the head a dozen times and even if it now felt like a hyperactive kid was using his skull for a rattle, he knew it wouldn't last long.

 

"Drake?" Either JJ was talking very quietly, or then he had moved farther away. "Are you... are you all right? Should I go call the doctor back?"

 

"No," Drake said, opening his eyes. To his surprise, JJ was sitting on the bed right next to him. "The meds. I'm just a bit woozy, 's all."

 

"Oh," JJ mumbled. He sniffed a bit and rubbed his eyes. "Okay."

 

His clothes were wrinkled and his face was pale. In a word, he looked like shit. Drake hadn't expected to ever think that of JJ, who was, well, shit-resistant when it came to personal appearance. A deep-rooted alarm started ringing in Drake's mind, even through the haze of the medication: partner in trouble. "What's the matter, JJ? I didn't know you could be that quiet."

 

JJ awarded him with a small, sad smile. "You're lying in the hospital bed and you're worried about me. That's my partner."

 

Drake coughed a bit. He could feel it for minutes afterwards, numbed pain echoing through his lungs. "So you're saying nothing's wrong?"

 

"I'm perfectly fine," JJ claimed, patting the cover. "You, on the other hand, should go back to sleep. You shouldn't even be awake now, but you're... I guess you're being stubborn." JJ's light tone was forced. It bothered Drake.

 

"Bullshit. Ryou told me what happened."

 

JJ looked away and tensed visibly. "He did, huh?"

 

"Yeah. So don't bother with explanations. It's okay."

 

Drake could have hit himself on the head, just to hammer some social grace into his damn brain. Why hadn't he ever been able to say things the right way? He needed to make sure JJ wouldn't dwell on all this anymore. He needed to make sure.

 

"What happened was that I fucked up. Drake, I'm sor--"

 

"No," Drake protested, "I fucked up. What kind of an idiot makes a sudden move when it's obvious there's a sniper taking a shot somewhere, huh? I should've known better."

 

JJ looked back at him, frowning in confusion. He shook his head slowly as he started, "But..."

 

"But nothing. It's okay." Even though he felt like a gibbon trying to speak Latin, it seemed he was getting through to JJ. Drake caught his eye as he continued, "And you did good, JJ. You got Lance down."

 

Some of the usual spark returned to JJ as he smiled. "So did you. You probably saved Dee-senpai's life with that stunt."

 

Drake laughed a little, even if it made him cough. "In... in a nutshell, we both fucked up, but we did it damn well."

 

JJ burst into chuckles. All the insincerity left his demeanor as he tucked his right foot under him and leaned closer to Drake, who only now realized that JJ wasn't wearing any shoes. JJ muffled his last chuckles into his hand as he rested his jaw on it. For a while, he looked at Drake, obviously choosing his words.

 

Drake was more than willing to give him all the time in the world. He concentrated on simply breathing for a while. His eyelids felt heavy.

 

JJ's voice was soft when he finally spoke. "You always know just what to say to me, Drake. How do you do that?"

 

Drake turned his head and stared at JJ, who was watching him with wondering eyes. Something warm flashed through him. What had JJ just said?

 

"In any case, you're absolutely right. I don't know why I let it get to me that way in the first place. My conscience hasn't reminded me of all those lunches I owe you, so why would it start needling me now?" JJ shrugged and smiled a lop-sided little smile. "Odd, isn't it?"

 

"No, not really," Drake muttered, trying to cover up the fact that he could still feel JJ's earlier comment deep inside him where it had sunk. "Considering what happened to your friend. Don't even try to tell me you're not thinking about Max and what he told you. That's where all this guilt trip shit is coming from. Right? Not from the fact that you shot at your partner. Hell, you know how this job can be. You wouldn't freak out about that." Drake took a deep breath, resting his aching lungs. His head was swimming a little.

 

JJ frowned a little as he listened to Drake. "Maybe I would, when it's you," he said in all seriousness. "But okay. You got me."

 

Drake smiled tiredly. He had to fight to keep his eyes open.

 

Suddenly, JJ started to chuckle again. "You know," he said, reaching out to play with Drake's hair, his eyes glimmering, "with your hair short like that, you do kind of look like Max."

 

"So my hair makes me a regular angst magnet, huh?" That earned him even more chuckles from JJ.

 

"Hey." JJ leaned closer, his expression dancing on the familiar edge between sunny optimism and no-nonsense seriousness. "You almost died on me. Never do that again."

 

Sleep was taking over Drake in giant waves. "I'll try to cut back."

 

He was sure he didn't just imagine the warm lips pressing onto his temple. "Good night, Drake. I'll come see you later."

 

The bright lights disappeared, the door clicked closed and everything turned soft and hazy. Drake sank into sleep.

 

 

 

- - -

 

 

 

The next few days went by in a lethargic mess. Whenever he could, Drake slept. His body's autopilot woke him a couple of times when he felt like he couldn't catch his breath, but it turned out he really had been lucky. At least he was told so several times. The doctors walked in and out, a mix of faces and names he couldn't quite remember, and each and every one of them reminded him to seriously consider cutting back on the cigarettes. He felt awkward discussing the interior of his lungs. But slowly, the headache and the racking coughs diminished.

 

Finally Drake felt good enough to answer the several text messages Ryou had sent him to keep him up to date. Of course, JJ stopped by daily to give the exact same information, along with expensive candy and magazines Drake never read, but it was good to have something concrete to go back to for reference. He gathered that because he still had his job, and so did Ryou, Dee and JJ, something must've gone right. Ryou explained that the fact that Lance was also in the hospital gave them extra time. More importantly, Lance's lawyers were not paying much attention to the police work concerning the case; they were far too busy trying to find an explanation for Lance's connections to the gangs. Drake had to search his brain for a moment before he recalled the last chat of the case he had had with JJ. Lance was a doctor, and gangs could always use morally dubious doctors. He asked JJ about it when he came to visit, and got a satisfied grin in return. Apparently, their guess had been pretty accurate. For the curious lab equipment in his basement alone, Lance would have to answer to some serious charges.

 

 

It had been over a week, and the weather had turned from early spring to unusually sunny late spring. Drake had piled up the magazines and papers JJ had brought him, intending to leave them for some other patient who might actually read them. He stretched his arms, and absent-mindedly tucked his shirt into his pants. Something caught his eye, and he went to pick up the card from his night table. It was a cheap Garfield card, from a six-year-old called Jackie who had almost ended up being the last victim of Lance's. Drake huffed a little, amused. Judging by the stiff thank you note, it was pretty obvious that the kid's parents had made him write the card. It didn't matter; the card still made him feel good about himself. Drake slipped it into the pocket of his coat. He put on his shoes for the first time in eight days, and walked around a bit, rehearsing.

 

The stocky nurse with the haircut of a 30's film starlet walked in and smiled. "Happy to leave us, Detective?"

 

Drake smiled back. He could not tell the doctors and their anti-smoking agendas from each other, but he did remember some of the nurses. "You could say that."

 

"Is someone coming to pick you up?"

 

"No," Drake said, picking up his coat with his right hand, uncomfortably aware of his limp, sweating left arm underneath the bandages. "I'll just call a cab and be on my way." He didn't mention to her that he was heading straight to work, nor that JJ had all but begged to come and pick him up. But considering that JJ already spent most of his free time sitting in the hospital trying to be useful in some way, Drake had sternly declined. He had one hole in his chest; he wasn't paralyzed.

 

The nurse tut-tutted and shook her head, then opened the door for him. "I'll walk you downstairs and make sure that you can find one, then."

 

"Thank you." Drake walked carefully down the stairs. The freedom of movement was disorienting.

 

When they reached the door, the bright sunlight blinded Drake for a second. After the quiet hospital room, the sound of constant traffic all but overwhelmed him. His head pounded a simple message through his brain: nicotine, nicotine.

 

"Now, when you get home, no aerobics, okay; I'm warning you. You take it easy." The nurse patted him on his good shoulder and went back inside.

 

Drake looked around, dug the cigarettes from his pocket and lit up, almost defiantly. Blissful relaxation flowed into his limbs. Feeling liberated and more than a little relieved, he finished the entire cigarette before even trying to catch a cab. In a way, he was padding up his nerves for the station and, inevitably, Chief.

 

 

The cab had hardly even stopped in front of the station when Ted came over to tap on the window. Drake threw him a tired grin and pushed the door open.

 

Ted laughed and was about to pat him on the back, but noticed Drake's cast and hesitated. "Hehey, when did you get out of the hospital?"

 

"About thirty minutes ago," Drake said, nodding towards the front door. "Is Baby Seal in?"

 

Ted looked at him with a half-scowl on his face. "You came here straight from the hospital? Man, I'm getting seriously worried about you. They tell me you got a hole in the lung, not the head."

 

"And you didn't come and visit me," Drake said in a mock-hurt voice, leading the way inside the station. Janet gave him a quick but earnest smile and waved her hand while she talked on the phone. Drake waved back. Good old Janet. Where would they be without her?

 

"Don't even start, Parker. We've had to deal with your spaz of a partner for a week; if anything, you owe us," Ted announced in a voice that was far too indignant to be taken seriously. He grabbed Drake's sleeve just when he had been about to open the door to his and JJ's office. "Hey, I think Chief called 'em all to an emergency meeting."

 

Drake frowned at him, not taking his hand off the grip. "Emergency? What kind of an emergency?" There was a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach that had nothing to do with hospital food. The threat of being fired had always been there, looming in the background when someone had decided to skirt the rules, but it suddenly became a very real possibility.

 

Ted didn't seem all that concerned. Then again, Ted generally didn't believe in bad news. He shrugged. "Go ask him."

 

He could bet his ass that Drake would. He hurried down the hallway, but soon had to slow down - his lungs simply couldn't take the exertion. No hallway in his life had ever seemed so long, but when he reached Chief's office, he was all of a sudden not too eager to step in.

 

Linda Bromley, Chief's secretary, glanced at him, quirking her perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Yes? Can I help you?"

 

"Is my partner inside?" Drake asked. He was out of breath, and felt weak because of it. That cigarette had probably been a bad idea.

 

"Yes, I believe he is. Detectives McLean and Latener are also in there, but I don't think--"

 

Drake didn't stick around to listen to her. With one long step, he was at the door. He knocked hurriedly and opened it. "Sir?"

 

 

The atmosphere was nothing short of morbid. Chief glanced up at him from under his furrowed brows, his expression grievous. It wasn't often that Drake sympathized with their chief, but now he really looked like the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders as he slumped in his old office chair, a barricade of files and dirty coffee cups on the desk in front of him. Ryou and Dee sat in the two chairs across from him, tense and frowning. Dee had a badly gnawed pencil hanging from the corner of his mouth. Ryou's eyes were wide and alert, as if he was ready to bolt at any moment.

 

Drake didn't even have time to notice JJ was in the room before he left his standing place in the corner and came to put his hand on Drake's shoulder. His somewhat hesitant smile eased the atmosphere. "Hey, partner. Why didn't you call me? I told you to call me the moment they let you out."

 

"With what? My cell phone's still-- " Drake caught himself in the nick of time and went on, a little awkwardly, "--still broken."

 

Chief let out an exasperated sigh. Drake swallowed. "Parker, why don't you close the door and sit down."

 

Ryou shot up and offered the chair to him, and Drake sank down gratefully. He could hear JJ coming to stand behind him and gripping the back of the chair.

 

"Sir?" Dee cleared his throat, taking the pen out of his mouth. "With all due respect, since we're all here now, can we please stop fucking around and hear what this is all about? We know what it says on the report we wrote. You didn't call us here just to remind us of that."

 

"Dee," Ryou muttered reprimandingly, nudging him, but Dee ignored it.

 

Chief scratched his head for unnervingly long before leaning his elbows on the desk and facing them. "Okay, boys, I'm going to be frank with you." He exhaled heavily and fixed them a stern glare. "I think you're all full of shit." He picked up a file that apparently contained the report, and let it drop down again. "What you wrote don't ring true. It's not the little details, either; seems to me this whole report was a carefully planned hoax."

 

"Sir--" Ryou started, wetting his lips nervously, but Chief cut him off.

 

"Now, I know you can be shrewd. And you sure as hell lie if it'll save you paperwork. But you're my boys, and this is the first time you've ganged up like this. I'm going to give you a fair warning: I will get to the bottom of this, so no bullshitting. What's really going on?"

 

"Um, sorry, Chief, but I'm a little out of the loop," Drake started carefully. JJ took a sharp breath and held it. "What exactly is the issue here?"

 

Chief gave him a dark look. "I want to know what happened at the docks eight days ago. You say you were there to capture Lance, yet for some reason you hesitated to call the local precinct until he and his cronies had beat one of you up and pointed a gun at his head. You say this happened at the same time when Janet says she saw you running around the station." He sighed again. They had let him down, Drake knew as much just by looking at him. "I know if I ask her again tomorrow, she'll most likely swear she never saw you after all and that she must've been mistaken. I've asked around, and Jackson from the armory seems to be singing the same song. They're both lousy liars, but you know them and they'd never rat on you. But look here. I've got two people at the station, blatantly lying, and one of my detectives shot with a police rifle."

 

"An altered police rifle," JJ put in.

 

They all glanced at him. Drake turned in the chair to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

 

JJ shrugged, his expression one of bright-eyed honesty. "What it says in the report, sir. Many gangs steal police guns and fix them up with better scopes."

 

"We figure there was no way the punk could've hit Drake if the gun wasn't rigged," Dee said, nodding sagely. "What with the darkness and everything."

 

A smug look flashed on JJ's face at Dee's words. Ryou turned away and coughed into his hand, possibly hiding a smile at Dee's show of innocence. Drake felt he was sitting in the middle of a stage. A well-rehearsed play was in process here, and Chief was their only audience. He didn't seem convinced of their talents, and Drake got the feeling that whatever they did now, it wouldn't really matter. The critics had already given their verdict.

 

"So you've got it all covered, have you?" Chief stood up, looming over the desk, his voice rising to a thunder. "I told you not to bullshit me! I've got Precinct 83 on my ass, wanting to know why they weren't informed in time that my boys are tracking a serial killer in their fucking backyard! I've got a battalion of Lance relatives and lawyers nipping at my heels, and I don't even know what the hell my own squad is doing, so what do you suppose I can tell them?"

 

Ryou and JJ exchanged glances. They were all silent for a moment while the chief sat back down and growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

 

"Sir?" Ryou finally raised his voice. He sounded calm and collected. "Are we fucked?"

 

Chief looked up, and something close to amusement dawned on his face. "Well, let's see about that. Since you refuse to stop playing games, I'll start one of my own. Here's how it goes: I ask you a question and you answer it, damn you. First, the 83rd. Why didn't you call them?"

 

Drake felt torn. He sure as hell didn't want to lose his job over something like this, but he didn't have all the details - maybe it wouldn't be too good if he was the one who spoke up. It surprised him, however, when Ryou wasn't the one who spoke first.

 

"Lance wanted to make a deal with us, sir. We couldn't risk telling anyone, because we wanted to keep my partner alive."

 

"JJ!" Dee burst out in annoyance while Chief nodded slowly.

 

JJ turned to give Dee a steady look. "Well, excuse me, senpai, but what would you have me do?"

 

"I wouldn't worry, Latener," Chief injected wryly. "He didn't actually say anything I hadn't already guessed. Good, so now we're finally on the same page. Next question: did you actually make a deal with Lance? If he brings that up in his trial--"

 

"He most certainly will not, sir," Ryou said, assuringly. "That is..." He backtracked a little, then went on, "I mean, no, sir, we didn't actually strike a deal with him. But considering his dubious ties to gangs, his lawyers would never bring up something like trying to make a deal with the police. That would lose him the last of the jury members."

 

"What exactly are his ties to the gangs? It's obvious we're dealing with territorial qualms here, one way or the other. Lance's little brother was a Red Rob, that much was actually true in this report of yours. Care to explain to me why he runs around killing people, cutting them up like his brother, when he knows full well that will piss off the enemy gangs?"

 

Finally, a topic Drake was fully familiar with. "Exactly, sir," he said, effectively cutting off both Ryou and Dee. "He wasn't on either side. He was riling up the gangs to fight each other. He knew what would make them tick because of his brother's gang contacts. According to the reports, his brother's murderer was never found, and I doubt there was ever even any serious investigating involved. It was just another gang murder. So, our boy Lance goes a little funny in the head, and gets revenge on everybody, both the gangs who took his brother from him and - and..." He had to pause to cough. It was the longest speech he had given in days.

 

"And the cops who failed to find his brother's killer," Ryou finished for him. "All this, and he also wanted to kill the victims himself. It doesn't take a Psychology Major to tell that he was actually killing his brother, over and over again."

 

"Ah. The mystery of the vertical line." Chief leaned back and scratched his mustache thoughtfully. "When he killed them on common ground, neither side knew who to blame."

 

"See, we're not completely useless," Dee quipped.

 

Chief glanced at them all in turn, something resembling a smile lurking behind his mustache. "Maybe you're not," he said slowly. "Damn, boys. You always seem to find ways to surprise me."

 

JJ touched Drake's shoulder. He smiled brightly when Drake turned to look at him.

 

We made it.

 

 

 

- - -

 

 

 

After exchanging some warm and reassuring pats on the back with Dee and Ryou, Drake was ushered to his and JJ's office to do his part of the paperwork that had piled up during his absence.

 

The moment the door closed behind them, JJ turned to him, sighing in relief. He warmed the room with a little smile. "See, if you had called me from the hospital, I could've warned you about that meeting."

 

Drake went past him to his desk, looking idly through the mix of old and new files piled on it. "It went pretty well, though, didn't it?"

 

JJ made a little sound of agreement, and then hesitated. Drake was aware of him fidgeting; JJ's silence tended to be really loud. It just wasn't possible to focus on anything else when JJ was like that, so Drake turned around. "What?"

 

"I was just thinking." JJ frowned and rubbed at the side of his nose. "Chief's right to be concerned. We took some real risks here. I think I've only now started to realize how badly I flipped out myself. I've been at the range every day ever since."

 

"Every day?" That was a bit much, even for JJ.

 

"Well, every chance I've gotten." JJ came to sit on Drake's desk, right next to Drake, like he always did when they were brainstorming. "You know how the saying goes, Drake: if you fall off a horse, you must get back in the saddle right away."

 

Drake had to quirk an eyebrow at that. "Yeah, but it's not like you made a mistake or anything. It was a great shot, a perfect shot, almost; I just happened to be there in the wrong spot. I don't think that metaphor works."

 

"Okay, forget the horse." JJ leaned against Drake's side. "Just make me feel better. I know I'm selfish. But you're so good at it."

 

Well, Drake was definitely going to try, at least. He gave JJ a bit of a hug, and ruffled his hair, and successfully resisted the urge to smack his ass when he jumped down from Drake's table and trotted back to his own. JJ just had a very smackable ass, and Drake was pleased to find that he didn't feel like a filthy pervert when he caught himself thinking about JJ like that. Somehow, being attracted to JJ had become one of the things in his life that he could do very little about, so he might as well not try, and that was fine. It was good to come back to work like nothing had happened. Familiar routines; there was something to them that had always appealed to Drake. He liked settling in and taking comfort in little everyday things.

 

At the end of the day, he was more than happy to let JJ drive him home. He leaned his head against the cool window and closed his eyes for a minute. The idea of taking a nap when he got home tempted him for a minute, but finally Drake decided that he wasn't really sleepy - merely tired, and a little sore even though he hadn't moved all that many muscles that day.

 

Bedsores, he thought, and had to smile.

 

 

 

- - -

 

 

 

The apartment seemed cold and dusty when Drake opened the door and stepped in. JJ had to give him a little push or he would've stood there in the doorway, staring stupidly at the abandoned-looking apartment that didn't seem to belong to him. JJ went past him and to the kitchen, peeling off his coat, and broke the unmoving, timeless trance the apartment had fallen into. Drake went to turn the heat up a few notches.

 

"God, this place looks abandoned," he commented, loud enough for JJ to hear.

 

"Well, it has been, for a while. I came here to water your plants, though." JJ peeked from the kitchen, smiling perkily.

 

Drake glanced at the corner of the living room and his one and only plant. It looked more alive than it ever had under Drake's shoddy care. He rubbed his hands together; it was a bit chilly in the apartment, especially with the curtains drawn. Even though it was a warm spring evening outside, only winter light came in through the dark blue curtains. He took off his coat, with some difficulty - he still hadn't gotten used to getting by with only one hand - and walked into the kitchen, scratching the back of his head.

 

JJ was going through his kitchen cupboards. He seemed to find what he was looking for and took out a can of mushroom soup. "I knew there had to be soup somewhere. You hungry?"

 

"Aren't you supposed to make chicken soup for sick people?" Drake huffed, amused, and took the can from JJ, putting it back into the cupboard.

 

JJ caught the cupboard door and held it open, tilting his head to the side. "I'll put garlic in it."

 

"Honestly, I'm not hungry. You can sit down; you've done enough."

 

JJ slipped past him again, letting the cupboard door close with a creak. He walked over to Drake's small kitchen table and spun around to look at Drake, seemingly somewhat let down.

 

"Look--" Drake started, thinking that he had been too harsh, but JJ talked right over him.

 

"I'm sorry; I'm being a bother." He leaned against the table, the faint blue light catching in his hair.

 

Drake went over to him. "No, look, you're not being a bother. You've been fantastic. I just don't want you to feel like - like you owe me something."

 

JJ glanced up, an expectant look on his expressive face. In the winter-colored apartment, he was the only thing alive. Drake found himself ogling. JJ looked - he looked like something Drake had no word for. He discarded words like "beautiful", "adorable" and "tempting", because none of them quite fit.

 

"It's not that," JJ said in a quiet voice and flashed a brief smile that tugged at Drake's heartstrings. "At all. I thought you'd know."

 

Surely there was no right answer to that. Drake stood there with his mouth open, helplessly searching for words. Well, of course he knew, but it was never quite that easy, was it? He looked at JJ and he couldn't tell where the partner ended and something else began, if he only let it. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to handle this right, to find a way to make JJ happy.

 

While he pondered over it, JJ managed to slip past him again and headed out of the kitchen. Drake snapped to attention and followed him. "JJ?"

 

JJ went to pick up his scarf and coat. He turned to give Drake a little smile as he wrapped the scarf round his neck, but it wasn't altogether genuine. Drake knew when someone was smiling just for his sake, and it always made him feel like something of a bastard. "I should get back home anyway. Get some sleep, Drake. I'll see you tomorrow." JJ threw his coat on and turned to the door.

 

Drake grabbed his coat sleeve. "Wait." When JJ shrugged free of the loose grip, Drake took an almost fierce hold of his arm, forcing him to turn around. "Wait, dammit! Don't - don't go. Please."

 

JJ's eyes caught his. It felt like catching snowflakes with his eyeballs.

 

"Don't just leave like that. Please. I'm sorry."

 

"Sorry? Sorry about what?" JJ's expression was one of sad amusement.

 

Drake honestly didn't know what he was saying anymore. "You're upset. I'm sorry I made you upset. I'm a lunkhead; I don't - I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

 

"Drake." JJ stopped his desperate tirade with one softly spoken word. "You need to stop apologizing."

 

"Okay. Okay, but seriously, JJ. I don't want you to leave. Come on... come here." He reached out his hand hesitatively, curving it over JJ's shoulder, feeling his warmth through the coat. JJ followed the movement, leaning forward until his forehead touched Drake's chest. Drake slid his hand up to the back of JJ's head and held him in place. The short hairs at the nape of JJ's neck tickled his fingers.

 

"I thought I'd let you sleep on it," JJ said against Drake's shirt.

 

"I have slept on it. You see how much good it's done for me. You should never let me think, JJ. I'm dangerous when I do that."

 

That made JJ chuckle a little, at least. "It's not easy to make up your mind about something you really have no power over, Drake." His words were quiet, but fiercely resolved. "I think we both know that. But I think... we could work it out. We could try."

 

Drake stroked JJ's hair. He didn't dare to say anything. When had doing the right thing become so difficult? He swallowed hard as JJ's arms gently wound around his waist, bringing them close. JJ fit wonderfully in his arms.

 

Maybe that was enough. He pulled JJ's head back, and leaned down, and was rewarded with the feel of the world's warmest lips against his. The warmest, and most eager. The floor under his feet turned into Jell-o, every inch of his body seemed to tingle at the same time and JJ was suddenly wearing too many clothes. They were as close as they could possibly be, but at that moment, it was nowhere near enough. He was aware of himself kissing JJ back, fiercely now, trying to force himself even closer and finding it impossible even as he held JJ's head and crushed their mouths together, over and over.

 

All of a sudden, someone seemed to grab his lung and twist it, and he had to pull back from the kiss and take a deep breath. He tried to keep the already disappearing pain from showing on his face, but of course JJ noticed it anyway.

 

"A bit much, maybe," JJ said, and his voice didn't sound quite normal, so Drake knew he hadn't been the only one to get so lost in that kiss. "You're still recuperating." He touched Drake's cheek, and his voice dropped a notch. "Not that I wouldn't want to do a world more."

 

Drake smiled, both to show that he was okay and because JJ seemed to make him smile for some reason. "Yeah, well, I'm afraid you're gonna have to take a rain check. I've a hunch that what you've got planned could kill me."

 

"Maybe," JJ said, in his light, flirtatious voice that Drake had never quite been able to figure out. He danced his fingers down Drake's shirt buttons, tracing their shape. "Too bad, though. I was really looking forward to being alone with you."

 

A thought hit Drake like a bolt from the blue. He was generally lousy when it came to reading other people, but JJ, well; JJ was sort of a specialty of his. In a second, it dawned on him that JJ really didn't know how to act in this situation. Whereas Drake was still gestating the whole gay thing, JJ actually had little experience of relationships that went beyond casual sex. It had been Dee-senpai, Dee-senpai, Dee-senpai for years; when the hell had he last even had a boyfriend?

 

"Hey." Drake lifted JJ's chin to catch his attention. "I told you, I don't want you to leave. You can have me all to yourself tonight; just keep the... keep the glomping to a minimum, all right? We'll make it a joint effort."

 

Drake could've patted himself on the back and given himself a medal for successfully assessing the situation when JJ frowned, obviously taken aback. "Uh... yeah, of course, sure." He laughed a little, obviously embarrassed. "In fact, I'd love to just spend some time with you. Sorry, I'm... I'm a little out of the loop when it comes to dating. At least, when it comes to what you straight people call dating."

 

"Not hundred percent straight, I think," Drake corrected. Funny how the words just rolled off his tongue.

 

JJ tilted his head playfully. "Oh yes. Damn. Now I won't be able to tease you about that anymore. And I--"

 

"Only have yourself to blame," Drake finished his sentence, grinning and mussing JJ's hair. "Come on, let's not stand in the hallway. I'll throw the crap down from the couch so we can sit down."

 

"I suppose throwing it in a garbage can isn't an option?" JJ eyed the pile, quirking his eyebrow.

 

Drake sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "What, you've hardly become my boyfriend and you already start nagging at me?"

 

JJ twirled completely around on his way to the couch. There was an endearingly hopeful look on his face. "I'm your boyfriend now?"

 

"Uh, yeah, if you want to, I mean." Drake found the floor to be very fascinating all of a sudden. "I dunno, I thought it was sort of a given at this point. Unless, of course, all you want is a piece of my ass--"

 

"No, Drake, no," JJ interrupted him, shaking his head determinedly.

 

"I was just kidding."

 

"I know, partly you were. But you can be so paranoid. I want to make things clear from the start." JJ gave him one of his happiest smiles. It could've warmed up the Antarctic. "So yes, I'd love to be your boyfriend, Drake, thanks for asking."

 

"Y'know, it's weird when you do that." Drake pointed his finger at JJ as he walked over to the couch and, as promised, threw the pile of random crap on it down on the floor. He kicked most of the stuff under the couch and sat down.

 

JJ followed him, almost trampling on a dirty tee-shirt but managing to step over it. "When I do what?"

 

"Read me like an open book. I mean, God, JJ, I'm used to you doing that when we're tracking down a psychotic killer, but..."

 

To Drake's surprise, JJ didn't jump to the chance to finish his sentence. He just sat on the couch next to Drake, looking thoughtful. When the silence started to get a bit uncomfortable, and Drake was about to ask if JJ'd like a cup of coffee or something, JJ shook his head a little and looked up into Drake's eyes.

 

"It's like we're in each other's pockets, isn't it?"

 

Drake couldn't help raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, a bit. It's weird, though - I still feel it when you invade my personal space, if you step - step over a certain boundary, so it's not like you're in my pocket all the time, if you get what I mean."

 

JJ laughed and leaned close. Drake only had one working arm to wrap around his shoulders, but it was enough. JJ fit to his side like a puzzle piece. "I get you all right. Maybe we're not in each other's pockets, then; maybe it's more like we've found a place, just for us. A sort of a middle ground, where we can meet. You and your grumpy secrecy, and me and my - well, I'll let you fill in that one."

 

Drake felt warm and cozy from head to toe. "I don't know if I should."

 

That earned him a reassuring smile and a kiss. "Reminds me of what Chief said, actually."

 

Chief was the last thing on Drake's mind. "What did he say?"

 

"About how Lance made the gangs meet on common ground. That's where we are. That's where I'd like us to stay."

 

Drake's heart skipped a beat or two. JJ looked like he had never meant anything so sincerely. The way he could be so open, so giving - it was beyond Drake's understanding, and just as well; he was happy simply having JJ right there next to him, filling his apartment and world.

 

"C'mere," he murmured, drawing JJ even closer, and suddenly JJ's mouth was there, wet and warm and hungry.

 

JJ soon pulled back to speak softly against Drake's lips. "You say that a lot lately, have you noticed? 'Come here, come here.' Drake, I'm not going anywhere."

 

Drake just breathed for a minute, inhaling the tranquility, the feeling of belonging.

 

"You better not be," he then said, in all seriousness.

 

JJ didn't laugh either, but Drake could feel him smile.

 

 

-

 

 

The End

 

 

 

- - -

 

 

 

Author's Notes: Well, here we are. It took me three years to finish this fic, and I'm both sad and relieved to finally let it go. I started writing Common Ground in Japan, when I had just got my hands on Like, Like, Love - I had no idea the epilogue even existed before I stumbled upon it, and was ecstatic to say the least when I saw that Matou had given my favourite duo an ending that simply screamed for fic. This is what I came up with.

 

Two things I want to make clear:

 

-Although I don't like fangirl Japanese, I make an exception when it comes to JJ's habit of calling everyone in the precinct 'senpai'. There's really no way to translate 'senpai', and I feel it's an important part of JJ's characterisation. Tokyopop's translation doesn't always make it clear enough that JJ is extremely polite and formal, even when he's yelling at Ryou in volume four. Thus, the use of 'senpai' even when he's no longer a newcomer and has become friends with many of the other detectives. Note that he drops the 'senpai' towards the end of the fic when speaking to Drake...

 

-I know Marty is not canonically Ted's partner. I just thought it fit, considering how well everyone seems to know Marty for some reason.

 

My soundtrack for this fic is pretty huge, but the songs I'll probably always associate with it are A Small Victory by Faith No More, Here to Stay by New Order and Inside My Love by Minnie Riperton. Dave Matthews Band, Marvin Gaye and Death Cab for Cutie's album Transatlanticism were fonts of inspiration as well.

 

Heart-felt thanks to my diligent and patient beta readers, Kylandra, Alyssa, Akakay and Aino. You guys have been wonderful, and I look forward to working with you again if I decide to go through this fic, now that it's finished, and truly spank myself with the grammar whip... (I know, I know, I've made you fear and loathe my constant re-writes; please be quick and not unnecessarily hurtful when you give me the death I deserve.)

 

Thank you for reading. See you at the 27th.