Title: Sleeping in the closet
Pairings: Don/Ian, Turnbull/Will
Disclaimer: If the series was mine, this would canon and it would never have been cancel. As both are untrue, I don't own anything.
Summary: A relationship seen though text messages.
Warnings: (if any): one swear word. I think that’s it.
Author's Notes: First part was originally written for prompt over at comment fic text from last night, Don/Author’s choice Oh yeah I know that guy. he's legit. slept in my closet a few times. Then someone else left a post for Don/Liz, we fucked while he was on the clock. He didnt even take off his bullet proof vest. Dont tell me thats not bad ass. The story kinda of grew from that. Sort of a cross with Due South.
And before anyone asks what the RCMP is doing in this fic, they have an outpost in Floridia. I know it's no where near Don and Charlie,
Seen anyone you like yet. Ian resisted the desire to roll his eyes. Normally as he was in California, Ren Turnbull would have been here as his wingman. Unfortunately, Ren had caught the flu and could hardly stand.
Apparently, even half dead, he was determined not to miss out on the fun.
Mayb. He texted back. Seen a guy, but not sure.
He barely had finished typing when the reply came back.
He decided to answer the second one first.
Cause I recognise him. FBI. Not sure if for real or working. He sent it, and then quickly sent another, adding. Dont need to out myself to another office.
He was grateful that Ren didn’t point out that if he hadn’t done that exact thing to him, they might not be friends. Ren was a good guy, and while not completely out of the closet, not completely in it either. He admitted to Ian, the first time they did it, that it was as much because of his love of playing with people’s heads, as fear of the disapproval of his superiors.
There was a few seconds before Ren’s texted back. Picture?
He rolled his eyes, but discreetly snapped a photo.
There was a pause, before a text came back.
Oh yeah I know that guy. he's legit. slept in my closet a few times.
Ian resisted the desire to growl. The law enforcement community being so small had meant it wasn’t the first time he or Ren had ended up with the other’s exs.
Im going in. He texted back. There was a pause, before a text came.
Just be careful.
Why He texted.
Deep in the closet was the reply. Ian rolled his eyes and resisted the desire to text him a reminder about differences in culture between Canada and America. Instead he pocketed the phone, and walked over.
“Agent Eppes. Didn’t expect to see you here.” He said. It was almost amusing to watch the deer caught in a headlights look on Eppes’s face, before he realised that if Ian was here, he had to be here for the same reason. “Buy you a drink?”
He watched, with a predator’s satisfaction, as Don Eppes weighed up the benefits and risk to the proposal.
He smiled. His night was definitely looking up.
So how did it go?
Ian rolled his eyes and glanced around the roadside diner before texting back.
Will on the late shift again?
Why would you say that? Came the reply.
Cos the only time you care about my sex life is when you’re not getting any!
So you admit you had sex with him?
Throwing a couple of bills on the table for the waitress, Ian stalked out. Leaning against the truck and breathing deeply to calm himself, he texted.
we fucked while he was on the clock. He didnt even take off his bullet proof vest.
There was a pause before the reply came back. Dont tell me thats not bad ass.
Growling to himself, Ian text. Will just got home?
Yeah. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.
He flung his phone into his bag and was on the road before Ren could formulate a reply.
O.k. so what happened?
Ian paused, before texting back. Think Toronto won.
Not with the curling!!!! With you and Eppes?
There was a pause before. Really Toronto
Ian replied. What makes you think anything did?
Err you’re in California and you chose to spend your evening sitting on the couch watching curling with Fraser.
There was a pause, before another text came. You h8 curling.
Ian shoved his phone in his pocket, only to discover that the FBI had him too well trained to ignore.
He groaned, before slowly texting back. You were right.
There was a pause of nearly 10 minutes before the text came in reply. I’m sorry.
Ian snorted at his phone. “Me fucking too.” He said, downing another beer.
Don stared down at his phone at the number he didn’t recognise, as another text arrived from the same number.
I was hoping we could talk?
He frowned, as he texted back. Who is this?
There was a pause before a text came. A friend.
A slightly longer pause then. It concerns our mutual friend. Ian Edgerton.
Sometime, he didn’t know what it was, the tone, the abnormity of the sender, something, was making alarm bells ring inside Don’s head. Carefully, he stepped back into the shadows, wishing he was in the office.
Who is this? What do you want?
A pause, then to talk. The phone warned that the next text message had been damaged, but bits got through. Says he’s alrgith qwrejwej hurt him.
Don felt like his heart had stopped. Moving quickly, he tapped David on the shoulder, muttered “Cover for me” and rushed out of the reception for the Canadian ambassador, barely glancing at the Mountie on duty, cursing that for the first time ever, Ian Edgerton appeared to be ignoring his calls.
What did you say to him? Ren flushed, keeping his eyes straight ahead, as his fingers moved in his pocket.
I think we had a miscommunication.
I guessed that! Ian’s message read. When a guy drives five hundred miles cause your not answering your phone, you tend to guess something’s off.
Ren sighed. Sorry. He texted.
He tried to convey his sorrow, while keeping his face relatively expressionless to the man who was sitting in the car opposite the RCMP outpost.
The other man grinned, leaning back so that Ren Turnbull could see into the car. Could see the man sitting next to him.
You son of bitch. He texted back, quite forgetting he was on duty.
:) he’s definitely legit. Was Ian’s only reply.