[And at the end... plot sign! Yay, something besides romance, sexual tension, and hints of madcap farce. 'Cause, let's be honest, who wants to read about sex anyway? I know it bores you guys to tears...]

 

They drove in silence for a few minutes, into one of the dingier sections of town. Detective Russell parallel parked in front of a ratty pizza restaurant and got out. Joe followed, feeling nervous and uncomfortable. He was very over-dressed for the neighborhood.

 

There was no way Joe was going to let him know that, though. Head high, move forward, keep control, take no shit. "Taking me out to lunch, Detective?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. "I thought you were married."

 

"And she's built much better than you," Detective Russell replied, not missing a beat. "Your ass is too flat."

 

Joe gave a little laugh. He hadn't expected the instant come-back. "A lot of people are very fond of this ass," he said, sliding into a booth. A little twinge reminded him exactly how fond Alex was of it.

 

"No doubt," Russell replied. "That's what I want to talk to you about."

 

The guard Joe had started to drop was immediately back up. "Alex."

 

"Yeah. Alex."

 

"What about him?"

 

A waitress had come over to the table. She was as old and dingy as the restaurant itself, and looked as much of a fixture of the place as the torn vinyl booth cushions.

 

"Hey, Doll," Russell said. "The regular, please."

 

She nodded. "He ain't your regular. Breaking in a new guy?"

 

"Something like that," Steve said with a grin.

 

"What'dya have, sport?" she asked Joe.

 

"Uh, a salad?"

 

She looked at him like he was an alien.

 

"Salad?" Russell asked, as the waitress walked away.

 

"I wanted something without grease," Joe replied, sounding a little defensive.

 

Detective Russell grinned. He'd made that mistake the first time he'd come here. He'd let Joe figure it out himself when the time came.

 

"So what did you drag me out here for?"

 

"I'm curious about last night," Russell said.

 

Joe's eyes narrowed. "Last night was my own damn business," he said. He unconsciously shifted a little in the booth. It might not've been Russell's business, but Alex had been very affectionate, and he'd been having a problem sitting down all morning.

 

"Maybe," Russell replied without heat. "Alex Gagnon, right?" Joe nodded. "He from around here?"

 

"What do you think," Joe snapped. "You work with his brother."

 

Russell had some reservations about that, but he kept them to himself just then.

 

"Chris hasn't mentioned he had a brother," Russell said. He failed to say that Chris hadn't mentioned a brother for twenty years. Nor had Chris' grandmother, who Steve had known since he was three. And she'd talked about Chris, his good-for-nothing father, and her long-suffering almost daughter-in-law a lot in the years before they'd died and Chris had come to live with her.

 

Joe snorted. "No surprise. Alex is gay. None of my family talks about me, either."

 

"I want to be clear here, Joe. I don't have a problem with you, or who you date. That's not the issue."

 

Joe looked at him with suspicion. "What is the issue, then?"

 

"There isn't one." Joe frowned again at Russell. The man was lying, he could tell.

 

"You're lying to me. Don't."

 

Russell raised an eyebrow at Joe. He was an excellent liar, something that normally served him well. Chris was the only other person he knew of who could reliably catch him out. "Fine. Have you ever seen Alex's drivers license?"

 

"What does that have to do with anything?"

 

"Humor me."

 

Joe tried to think. It wasn't the normal sort of question. Well, normal for him, at least. Maybe this was regular police small-talk or something.

 

"Maybe," he said after a minute. "We got carded once or twice. Bernie thought it was funny."

 

"What state was it from?"

 

"It was a Connecticut license," he said.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Yes, I'm sure," he snapped. "I run the damn HR department. I know what licenses look like."

 

Detective Russell frowned. That only confirmed his suspicions. There was no record of an Alex Gagnon in the DMV's computers. That meant the license was fake or Joe was lying. While Russell'd be willing to put money on Joe being happy to tell him to go f**K himself, he couldn't see any reason Joe would lie about it. And there was only one other person who'd have a license to prove they weren't Chris Gagnon.

 

The waitress interrupted with their food. She put a small pepperoni pizza in front of Russel, and, with a disgusted flourish, dropped a bowl full of lettuce in front of Joe. There was one, lone, albino tomato slice lying on top.

 

Joe poked at it with a water-spotted fork, then lifted up one limp leaf. It was shiny in the light, and dripped with oil and vinegar dressing.

 

"There's more grease on my salad than on your pizza," he said.

 

"Yep," Russell said. He bit into a piece with enthusiasm.

 

"You eat here often?"

 

"Most days," Russell answered.

 

"How come your arteries haven't turned to stone?"

 

"The station-house coffee cleans 'em right out. Works pretty well on the drains, too."

 

Joe shuddered. "Maybe I wasn't hungry after all."

 

"Live a little," Russell said, handing him a slice of pizza.

 

"Uh