part 7

He  lay rigid,  trying to keep perfectly still. The way Skinner had 
pulled him tight, he was pressed into both the other man's chest and 
groin. He was practically sitting in his lap, for Chrissakes!  And 
much as this might rank as number three on his list of fun things to 
do with his boss, reality was proving to be another matter. If he 
wriggled about, Skinner might think he was coming on to him.  
Besides, the idea of having his ass jammed up hard against Skinner's 
groin was enough mental stimulation to make his dick swell.
Christ...  
As if the stray thought triggered the event, a creeping warmth in the 
pit of his stomach warned that things were getting interesting in his 
shorts. He clamped down with his hand.
"John?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Relax."
Yeah, right. That was gonna happen this century.
"I'm tryin'," he said.

"Well you could start by breathing properly." 
"Ha-ha. Very funny." That was too fucking close for comfort. Doggett 
ran his tongue around a cotton mouth. He'd sell his soul for a beer 
right about now.  A beer and his own bed.
"Gimme a break, Skinner. I'm tryin' my best."

There was a shift in the bedsprings, and the arms slithered away. 
Perversely, Doggett missed their comforting weight.  He felt Skinner 
raise up on his elbow and peered down at him.
"This really bothers you, doesn't it?"
Another sigh. "No."
"Yeah, right."
"Look..."  Doggett lifted his hand in a helpless gesture. "Whaddya 
want me to say? I could say no... But I get the feeling you wouldn't 
believe me. So, yes, this bothers me. It bothers me a lot, okay?"  
The hand dropped to the bed.

A long silence followed his outburst. Doggett lay motionless, 
wondering what the reaction was going to be. Maybe a tirade about 
government employees and homophobia. Or a fight over who got the bed, 
even a pissy snit would be reasonable, he thought.
"I see."
Well that was a bit of a disappointment. He'd expected shouting at 
least.
"You reckon?"
He saw the nod out of the corner of his eye. 
"So. Is your problem with me, or just men in general?"  There was an 
undercurrent to the other man's  tone that he couldn't put his finger 
on.
Doggett sighed. "I don't got a problem with either, okay? Can we just 
drop it?"
"Well, being as we're stuck here, no. I don't think we can. And your 
grammar's appalling."

Groaning, Doggett covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes 
til they hurt. He didn't want to be doing this now. Not now... Not at 
all. Not ever.
"Jesus, Skinner. I'm tired. My knee hurts like a bitch and I'd rather 
be tucked up warm in my own bed than squashed in this fuckin' 
uncomfortable thing, if it's all the same to you. Nothin' personal, 
but this ain't my idea of a good time."
"I see."

Doggett identified that tone of voice. It was hurt. Oh great - now he 
was uncomfortable, embarrassed and feeling like a complete shit. 
He  pulled his hands away from his face.  "Look... I'm sorry, 
Skinner. I'm a lousy bedmate and an ungrateful son of a bitch."  He 
reached behind and took hold of a wrist and pulled it back over his 
side, cursing himself as he did it.
"Please. Lie down. Get some sleep."
Grudgingly, Skinner allowed his hand to be placed near Doggett's 
chest, and even more slowly, the other one slithered underneath to 
where it had rested on his belly.
"If you're sure?"
"I'm sure, okay?"  

I outta my fuckin mind, that's what I am, Doggett scowled to himself. 
He forced himself to tuck Skinner's hand under his chin while he 
shoved his own down to his underwear, just in case.  "See? All 
snuggled up and cozy."
There was a faint sarcastic snort behind him. Doggett smiled slightly.