merry_gentry: (Me-ankh)
[personal profile] merry_gentry
Title: Screw Death...I'm Gonna Live!
Author: [personal profile] merry_gentry
Fandom: TV - Chaos
Pairing/Characters: Billy Collins/Michael Dorset, mention of Rick Martinez, Casey Malick and Director H J Higgins
Rating: 15/R
Word Count: 873 - according to Word
Disclaimer: Not mine...damnit!
Author's Notes: Because Billy looks like this, Michael looks like this and they're blatantly an old married couple of awesome and that's just way too much pretty to not write about even if the show's probably going to fold at any second. *growls at CBS* Don't you dare cancel 'em for good!

Spoilers, mild ones, for Ep1x02 - Song of the North. Title misquoted from Serenity and Kaylee Frye.

Summary: If you're going to defect for a piece of arse, it had better be pretty bloody special.

When the kid asks if there's ever been anyone they’d die for, Billy talks around answering and hopes that's the end of it. When the whole discussion crops up again when they're back stateside and in the office, Casey and the kid staring at him expectantly and Michael smirking, the bastard, Billy...lies. Something about a girl and a family of rank back in the UK. He says he can't remember her name but it's just because he can't be bothered to embellish his (fake) story with even more (fake) details.

Michael knows he's lying – hell, Casey probably does as well because they've all known each other for so long that poker games are more about spending time away from the job than actually trying to bluff each other. But the kid...well, Billy's starting to like Rick and if he can keep a little of that spark, those romantic notions the kid has about the job, alive for just a little longer before it's buried under the weight of bureaucracy and paperwork and the inevitable betrayal from someone the kid thinks he's close to... That's worth a few more lies and Billy’s been lying about everything to everyone almost all his life, so what’re a few more porky-pies in the grand scheme of things?

Truth is, there's not really been anyone Billy would die for. Oh, he'd live for a great many people, including his dear old mum who thinks he died five years ago in the glorious service of Queen and country and he lives so that one day he'll be able to go back and see her again. He'd live for Michael as well, if only to make sure the paranoid twat's alive to endure the special hell that is a miserable lecture disguised as a debriefing from Higgins right alongside him.

After all, when getting right down to it, Billy defected for Michael Dorset. Abandoned said duty and Queen and country to keep Michael alive and in one piece. Abandoned his mum and isn't he ever so glad the whole thing caused such an embarrassment that the British government never made the truth public knowledge? And all to join up with the Yanks, of all people. Fucking Michael Dorset and his stupidly talented fingers and his bloody smirk and his way of being able to get Billy to do absolutely anything with the right words.

Michael corners him in the mens' toilets later. It's the one up on the second floor with no bugs or cameras – the one truly safe place in the entire building, although if Michael thinks that they're still fooling anyone but the greenest of the newbies, then he's completely wrong. Higgins probably approves – Michael keeps Billy in line, keeps an eye on him, and it's almost certainly the only reason they've been allowed to stay on the same team. Once a traitor, always un-trusted and isn't that a train of thought more usually reserved for the overly-paranoid Michael?

"Nice story," Michael says from behind him. Billy hadn't heard him enter. Sloppy. Too caught up in his own thoughts.

"Jesus fuck, if I hadn't just gone," Billy huffs. "You're worse than bloody Casey with all your sneaking." He's not ashamed to admit that he jumped a little – Michael’s like a bloody cat when he wants to be.

In the mirror, he can see Michael grin lazily and flip the lock on the door.

"Clichéd, dear," Billy mutters, holding Michael's gaze as the other man steps forward and traps Billy against the row of sinks.

"For a good reason," Michael agrees and his hands are already warm on Billy's hips through his clothes.

They've seven guns and three knives between them, not to mention Michael's ever-present garrotting wire under the wrist-cuff of his shirt. If things ever go ugly between them, at least it'll be a quick one...although it'll probably be extremely bloody.

Billy presses back against Michael, giving a pleased hum at the growing ridge of hardness he finds there.

"A mid-afternoon quickie in the gents, then?" he asks. Not that he's overly disappointed by the surroundings – the CIA keep their toilets scrupulously clean and sex is sex. And he and Michael – well. If you're going to defect for a piece of arse, it had better be pretty bloody special. Not to mention good enough to last out the five and a half years they've had since Billy's defection of being shot at and stabbed and poisoned and working in some of the most inhospitable places on Earth.

Michael's right hand creeps around, those clever fingers of his squeezing in all the right ways as Michael traces the line of Billy's cock through his trousers.

"Right then," Billy manages, and he turns around in Michael's hold so those talented fingers are now one his arse in time to swallow the other man’s laugh in a kiss. He might be kind of slutty for Michael – but it goes both ways and Billy knows how to shut the other man up besides. It’s pretty much a win/win situation for both of them in Billy's mind.

He might not die for Michael but, Billy supposes, he'd wreck bloody vengeance on whoever might be stupid enough to try taking Michael away from him.

My fic masterlist is here.

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