Van watched Eli dance around the ring, his fists a blur as he pummeled his opponent with one hit after another.  This fight had been very different than the one against Alexei.  The guy had come into the ring throwing curses and slurs and, instead of bumping gloves, had spit in Eli's face.  Ten seconds after the bell rang, he'd been spitting blood from a mean right hook.

The arena was just as loud, but Van had remembered his earplugs this time.  When the ground-shaking cheer went up as the opponent fell to the mat, Van joined in, feeling absolutely no remorse for the guy's black and blue ribs.

As the crowd surged, Van managed to plant his feet, grinning up at the ring.  Eli let the announcer wave his hand around in the air, but his eyes scanned the crowd.  He was covered in sweat and other fluids, and Van couldn't help the stray thought that he probably looked a lot like that after sex.  Stomping down on it, he waved.  Eli zeroed in on him, smiling enough to make the shadow of his dimples show, his chest heaving.

Van fought his way through the crowd as the security team led Eli away, greeting MacMillan and Preston as they turned back over-eager fans at the door to the staff hallways.  It was too loud to actually say anything, but MacMillan let him through with a single eloquent eye roll.

Eli hadn't made it far.  He'd pulled on a shirt but still had a towel slung over his shoulders.  Natalie, walking beside him, rolled her eyes, but didn't stop as he turned at the sound of the door opening.

"Van," he said, his eyes lighting up.  "I didn't see you at the meet and greet."

"Blame the punk who decided to go luggage shopping at McCarran and then take a taxi down the Strip.  The paperwork is like three inches thick whenever the airport is involved."  He'd been so surly that Miller had finally kicked him out of the station with orders not to come back.  Ever.  He was pretty sure she was joking because she sure as hell wasn't going to do all his paperwork from now on.

Eli frowned.  "I hope everyone got their luggage back.  It sucks to get that stuff lost."  He bit his lip, making it flush red.

Van caught himself as he leaned forward, his eyes on that plump lip.  "Yeah, we got it all back to them."  Stomping on the urge to kiss the indentation left by those white teeth, he clapped Eli on the back.  "Where are we going to dinner tonight?  I'm in the mood for seafood."

"The Rio," Eli said immediately.  "There's a great seafood buffet there."  He grabbed Van's hand and lifted it up so he could see his watch.  "If we hurry, we'll have plenty of time to eat before they stop putting things out."

Pulse jumping at the hot, soft feel of those big fingers on his wrist, Van swallowed hard.  "Sounds great, Champ."

"Natalie asked about you today," Eli said as they headed toward the casino floor.  "She even used your name."

"I don't believe you," Van said with a laugh, ignoring the way the air felt cold as Eli let go of him to open the door.

"Okay, so she said 'that useless lump'," Eli said, grinning over his shoulder, "but at least she didn't call you Donuts."

"Quite the promotion," Van said, dryly.  There was a small crowd of people waiting as they stepped out into the crazy noise of the slot machines.  "You want to meet me by the valet in a couple minutes?"  He was getting used to how much Eli loved to interact with his fans.

Looking from the crowd to Van, Eli hesitated.  "No," he said, finally, "I'll just be a minute."

Raising an eyebrow, Van motioned to a nearby patch of blank wall; something of an oddity in Vegas.  "I'll wait here, then."

Eli nodded.

Van watched him smile for picture after picture, signing posters and random objects with equal delight.  After a few minutes, he noticed Eli throwing glances at him over his shoulder and waved.  Eli flushed and turned his attention back to the pumped up twenty-something in front of him but, a minute later, his eyes slid back to Van.  Pulling out his phone, Van skimmed through his emails, hoping that Eli wouldn't think he was trying to rush him.

"Sorry, guys.  I have another appointment.  I'll be back out tomorrow for the press conference, and I hope to see all of you then."

Looking up from his phone in surprise, Van raised an eyebrow at Eli as the boxer slipped away from the fans and sauntered over.

Eli rubbed the back of his neck.  "I'm hungry," he said.

Something warm settled in the pit of Van's stomach, and he smiled, tucking his phone away.  "Off to the Rio then."  He caught Eli by the elbow, his fingers curling at the sensation of warm skin under his hand as they walked to the elevator.  It felt like a victory when Eli didn't pull away.

The Rio was off the Strip by a few blocks and, though Van offered to drive, Eli insisted that they use the car provided for him by the casino.

"Why waste your gas sitting in traffic," he'd said, and Van couldn't disagree.

The buffet wasn't as crowded as some of the restaurants in the big casinos would be, but it was still Vegas.  They were in line for all of a minute before someone recognized Eli, pulling out their phone and asking for a picture.

Van smiled as the hostess fell all over herself getting them to the front of the line.  He had to hide a laugh behind his hand as Eli looked genuinely disappointed to have missed a chance to talk to his fans.  When both their stomachs growled though, he smiled sheepishly and let Van lead the way to a table near the back.

"So where should I start?" Van asked as they set their ticket down on a small table near the meat carving station.  The room was huge and colorful as befit the carnival theme, but excellent design kept it from being too loud despite the number of people.  The smell of the roasting meat and spices made his mouth water as he scanned the different stations.

"Grab the seafood first.  You want to get it while it's fresh."  Eli smiled at a couple of people who pointed their phones his direction but headed for the buffet line with single-minded concentration.

After working out with Eli for the last couple weeks, Van had come to understand exactly how many calories the man burned a day.  Even so, when he got back to the table after filling his plate with sushi and crab legs, he burst out laughing.  Glancing up from a pile of crab almost a full foot tall, Eli gave him a shy smile.

"It's my favorite," he said, a tiny note of defensiveness threading through his voice.

"No, no.  I think it's awesome.  Me, I'm gonna be going back up there in like ten minutes," Van said gesturing at the packed buffet, "and who knows if they'll have any of my favorites left.  You're doing it smart."

Looking pleased, Eli nudged the plate at him.  "We can share if you want."

"I might take you up on that."  Van watched Eli break apart his crab bare handed, admiring the flex of his muscles under the nice button-up.  He was surprisingly skilled at getting the shell off without destroying the delicate meat inside.  It made Van wonder what other fine motor skills Eli would be exceptionally good at.

The last few weeks, they'd fallen into a pattern.  Van flirted and Eli let him.  Occasionally, Eli would flirt back just enough to keep him from getting discouraged.  Natalie usually interrupted them at that point.  Once it had been Kim who'd stared at them with wide eyes and then backed out of the room, her face lighting up scarlet.  All he'd been doing was describing the best way to cook a steak.  Although, Van hadn't actually been using the word steak at the time, so maybe she hadn't realized it.

Although Eli was definitely attracted to him, Van didn't feel like the flirtation was going anywhere.  He was okay with that though.  Eli's reactions stoked his ego, and Van was too old to worry about getting laid all the time.  Or so he kept telling himself.

"You have to try this," Eli said, breaking into Van's thoughts.  He was holding out a piece of crab, his brow furrowed in concern as he scanned Van's face.

Forcing his lips into a smile, Van reached for the scrap of meat, butter practically dripping off it.  Eli pulled his hand back out of reach.  "It'll fall apart if you try and take it," he said, his eyes sliding away.  "Just open your mouth."

Eyebrows raised, Van considered the blush darkening Eli's ears and obediently leaned forward, his lips parted.  The press had been better about leaving them alone the last few weeks, or they'd become less newsworthy, but with all the phones and cameras pointed their way, that looked like it was about to change.  Van couldn't bring himself to care.

Eli swallowed hard, his eyes caught on Van's lips.  Shaking himself, he slipped the crab into Van's mouth.  "It's really good," he said.

Van closed his lips on the tip of Eli's finger, smirking a little as he noted his breath caught.  "Yeah," he said after a second, pulling back and leaving Eli's hand hanging in space.  "It's delicious."

Pupils blown wide, Eli grabbed another piece of crab off his plate and cracked into it without looking.  "You can have some more. If you want," he said, his hand shaking a little as he held up another piece.

"You first," Van said, smiling broadly as he held up a piece of sushi.  "I can't have you going hungry."

At first, it looked like Eli might balk, his shoulders going tense.  Slowly, like glaciers forming valleys and rivers carving canyons, he leaned forward and took the piece of fish between his teeth, careful not to touch Van's fingers.  It was only a little disappointing because he immediately thrust the crab forward, pressing his fingers to Van's lips eagerly.

Van flicked his tongue across the pad of Eli's finger as he took the morsel, smirking as Eli stared.  "Yum."  He picked up another piece of sushi and held it out.  "How's the sushi?"

Eli swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Van's nearly empty plate.  "Almost gone," he said, his voice hoarse.

"I can get more," Van said, and then remembered something he'd spotted on the way in.  "Or we can skip straight to dessert."

"Crab first," Eli said, taking the sushi delicately in his teeth.  This time Van chased after him to stroke his finger across Eli's lip.

"Crab first," he agreed, his mind already on what Eli's lips would look like smeared with chocolate.

Van had never been one to subscribe to the 'food as foreplay' school of thought, but this meal was rapidly changing his mind.  After the sushi and working their way through Eli's mountain of crab legs, they'd loaded up a single plate with chocolate covered fruit and creme brulee.  He was more than half hard under the table from watching Eli suck a cherry into his mouth, pulling the knotted stem out a second later with a self-satisfied smile.

"You're quite multi-talented, I see," Van said, his voice strangled as he resisted the urge to adjust himself.  There were still occasionally phones turned in their direction and, while he wasn't ashamed of anything they'd done, the National Inquirer did not need pictures of him handling himself.

Eli grinned.  He almost looked unaffected, but for the flush on his cheeks and the dark pupils that had taken over the color of his eyes.  "You have no idea," he said, licking chocolate off one finger.

"I think we're done here," Van said, getting to his feet.  If he had to watch Eli lick one more spoon clean, he was going to do something he'd regret.

Eli chuckled, getting up easily.  Van was gratified to see that he was careful to keep his hips angled to hide the line of his own interested cock.  "Giving up already?  They don't close for another half hour."

"They stopped putting out anything worth eating twenty minutes ago," Van said.  "Besides, there's only one thing I'm craving right now, and it's definitely not on the menu."  He raked his eyes down Eli's torso as they slipped out of the restaurant.

"Are you sure?" Eli asked, his smile teasing.

Surprised, Van fell behind, climbing into the waiting car after Eli.  "Well," he said, slowly, "it's hard to say.  Maybe we can discuss it a little more at my place?"  One thing was for sure, he didn't want to risk Natalie interrupting them if Eli was willing to give him a chance.

Eli was quiet for a long time, staring out the window and Van wondered if he'd overstepped one of those unspoken boundaries.

"Or not," he said, careful to make it clear that the choice was entirely Eli's.  "I'm pretty full already."

The silence wasn't entirely comfortable as they pulled back up at Eli's hotel, but he didn't get out.  Van watched him run his nails along the upholstery seam over and over again, the repetitive motion pensive.

"Not tonight," he said finally, his voice deeper than normal.  It shivered up Van's spine and made it easy to smile.

"Some other time then," he said, reaching for the door.

Eli's hand got their first, catching his wrist and pulling him close.  Startled, Van stared into eyes that were suddenly only inches away, the pupils a dark circle with a thin line of hazel around the edge.

"Eli?"

"Shut up," Eli said, pressing their lips together.

Shock kept Van from responding immediately, his brain relaying disjointed impressions of heat and soft skin and sweet chocolate breath.  Eli's full lips shifted against his, and he groaned, taking control of the kiss to sweep his tongue out, chasing the hint of chocolate and something that was all Eli.  He brought his hand up to cup the back of Eli's neck, his fingers digging into the short curls there, deepening the kiss until he could coax Eli's lips to part.  They broke only to breathe, Eli dipping back in to catch Van's lower lip in his teeth before they separated.

"Wow," Van said, stroking his fingers down the tendon in the boxer's neck and pressing against the pounding pulse.  "That was a hell of a consolation prize."

Eli didn't smile, stroking Van's hand with his thumb.  "I enjoyed dinner," he said quietly, his voice rumbling through Van's shoulder where they were pressed together.

Van grinned.  "See you tomorrow, Champ," he said, climbing out of the car.  He was glad there were no photographers outside because he had to take a moment to adjust himself before he could head to his car, texting Fisher that they were back.  He glanced back before the car was out of sight, but he didn't see Eli again.

 

#

 

Ducking out of the already sweltering heat, Van strode through the lobby of the casino, fighting the temptation to whistle.  He'd woken up half an hour before his alarm with a smile on his face, and his mood had only gotten more disgustingly cheerful as he'd gone about his morning routine.  Eli had surprised him last night, and he was looking forward to whatever else he had in store.

Jacobson was just coming off duty, crossing the carpet toward Van as he headed for the elevators.  There were still twenty minutes till his shift technically started, so he waved and slowed down to greet him.  Van was surprised when the other cop caught him by the arm and pulled him off to one side.

"Hey, you didn't have any physicals or anything last week, did you?" Jacobson asked, scanning the room nervously.

Van blinked, wondering if the other man had been called up for another drug test.  Jacobson's kid was going through cancer treatments in California and smoked weed to help with the pain.  The captains all knew and supported him, but the department's PR Agent kept singling him out for drug tests.  It was bordering on harassment.

"No," he said, slowly.  "Hastings didn't call you in again, did he?"

Frowning, Jacobson shook his head.  "Nah, not since Alicia's lawyer started asking for copies of all my test forms."  He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper.  "Rumor has it that someone big is calling for your head, man.  They want you in the head boss's office first thing this morning.  I heard that Lamonte said you're being pulled off this job."

Van laughed.  "Don't believe everything you hear, Jacobson.  I haven't heard from Lamonte all day.  Why would they pull me off the job?"

Jacobson relaxed, chuckling under his breath.  "I don't know, man, but I was told to make sure you went to Dean Talbot's office on the third floor before you went upstairs."

"Maybe there's some new procedure or something that they want to go over," Van said, with a shrug.  "I'll head up there now."  He patted Jacobson on the arm.  "Relax, man.  Go home, or you'll miss Andrew's Skype call.  How's he doing, anyway?"

Smiling, Jacobson pulled out his phone and flipped through the menus to display a bald teenager hamming it up for the camera.  "He's great.  The doctors think he might be able to come home between treatments next time."

"Awesome.  Well, get out of here then, and tell him if he gets out of there before the last fight of the year, you've got an in with the Heavyweight Champ."  Van waved the other man off, heading for the elevators.  The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could see Eli.

Dean Talbot's office was plush, the height of Vegas excess.  Located on the third floor overlooking the main lobby, it had rich wood walls and gilded picture frames every few feet.  The light fixtures were crystal, and awards plaques peppered the shelves.  It was also impressively soundproofed.  Van's boots against the thick carpet were the only sound despite the floor to ceiling windows showing the chaos and excitement of the hundreds of people milling around below.

"You wanted to see me, sir," he said when the secretary left him alone in the doorway.

Unlike his office, Dean Talbot was a spare man in a functional suit who screamed efficiency.  According to an article framed in the lobby, he'd been the event coordinator for the casino for almost twenty years.  He was also, Van noted with interest as he walked past a shelf of photographs, on the board of directors for the National Boxing Organization.

"Sgt. Harris," Talbot said, getting up from his chair to shake Van's hand.  "Vandal," he added, glancing at a sheet of paper on his desk.  "Interesting name."  His handshake was firm and businesslike, but his smile was kind.

"Papa has a thing for strange names," Van said, his standard response.

"My mother wanted to name me Blueberry," Talbot said with a laugh, "so I can relate.  Please, have a seat."

Van smiled.  "I'd rather stand, sir.  I have a shift starting in a few minutes."

Talbot sighed, shuffling the papers on his desk in a way that Van recognized was purely for show.  "About that," he said, laying them out in the exact same places they had been originally.  "I'm afraid your shift has been canceled."

The shock was like a lightning bolt down Van's spine, his mouth gaping open as he stared.  "What?"

"We've had Sgt. Wilson reassigned to our security team, and arranged with your Captain to have your schedule updated to your previous patrol."  Talbot tapped one of the papers in front of him.  "We'll compensate you for your lost time, of course."

"Sir," Van said, his mind whirling.  "Is this about the dinner?  I apologize if that was considered inappropriate, but–"

"Despite what the stuffed shirts in this organization would have you believe," Talbot said, his lips twisting at the irony, "it's not uncommon for our fighters to have... interactions with those in their employ.  They don't get to meet people who aren't screened by the company very often, so of course they become close with them," he added under his breath.  "No, this has nothing to do with any of that."

Van swallowed hard.  Eli would be headed to the gym soon, and all he could think of was the look on his face when Van didn't show.  "Don't punish Eli for whatever mistake I've made," Van said.

Talbot gave him a long look, letting the silence stretch.  He looked like the kind of caring grandfather who would dress up as Santa Clause and surprise the kids, but there was something else there.  As Van watched, like staring too long at an optical illusion, his pale eyes sharpened, the lines around them becoming deep and hard.  "Sgt. Harris, I don't know what kind of game you think I'm running here, but I'm not punishing Eli at all.  This was by his request."

It was on the tip of Van's tongue to reject that.  To say 'no it wasn't' and storm out.  To call Eli and ask what the hell was going on.  Suddenly, he caught the smell of chocolate, and he remembered the way Eli had looked at him in the car.  He wanted to believe that Eli wouldn't have had him reassigned, but it was very possible.

"Here, son."  Talbot pressed a glass against his hand, and Van tipped it back without thinking.  It burned all the way down and he coughed, staring at him in shock.  "You looked like you needed it," he said, settling back behind his desk.

Van swallowed again, his throat numb from the expensive scotch, but he couldn't think of any words.  What was there left to say?  The silence stretched, but either the interior design or the alcohol kept it from feeling awkward.

"I've been in this business a long time," Talbot said out of nowhere, a minute later.  "I didn't get where I am by being wrong."  He shuffled his papers again, his eyes tracking something Van couldn't see.  "But I think I might have been wrong about you.  If you ever want a few extra hours working security here – for anyone other than Eli – we're always happy to have good men."

"Thank you, sir," Van said, taking the dismissal for what it was.  He made his way out in a daze, realizing only once he got to the elevators that he had no idea what to do.  It wasn't like he and Eli had broken up; they hadn't even been dating.  It still stung.  He'd thought that, even if they weren't working toward something more, the two of them had been friends.

His phone was a tempting weight in his pocket, but he didn't take it out.  If Eli didn't want to see him, then calling wasn't going to change his mind.  Amy had once had a boy call her every day after they broke up to beg her to take him back.  She'd had to change her number three times.  Van was not going to be that guy.

Pressing the button for the lobby, Van frowned.  If he were going back to his normal patrol, he would be halfway through his day right now.  Pulling his phone out, he checked his email.  There was nothing from Lamonte or the station, which was unusual.  If the request had gone through that morning, it might not have hit the Captain's desk yet.  He'd have to go by the station.  He could catch up on paperwork and keep his mind busy rather than sitting home and obsessing.

Nodding to himself, he strode out of the elevators.  He was so intent on not thinking that he didn't realize it was the wrong floor until he turned the corner and ended up face to face with Eli.  He was too surprised to say anything as he took in the bags under Eli's eyes and the tight set of his lips.

"Van," he said, his eyes clinging to Van's lips for a moment before sliding away.  "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Van tore his eyes away and glanced around the hall.  The massive award mounted on a nearby wall meant he was still on the third floor.  "I...  Sorry.  I was just on my way out."

"I think the elevators are having issues," Eli said, stepping back.  "I had to take the stairs from the gym."  He crossed his arms, then dropped them to his side, his hands clenching and relaxing.  "I'd better go, Mr. Talbot wanted to see me."

Van swallowed hard, nodding.  "I'd better..."  He gestured toward the elevators, and Eli nodded.  Neither of them moved.

"Are you coming to the fight?" Eli asked suddenly.

Van frowned and forced himself to turn around and walk away.  "I don't know," he said, keeping his voice light.  He'd see if Wilson wanted to go in his place.  Or Miller, if Wilson was working.

"Van," Eli said, and Van stopped, his heart pounding.

Hope was a dangerous thing, gluing his feet to the floor.  "I've got to get back to the station, Eli.  My schedule's up in the air right now."

"I... I'd like it if you came to the fight," Eli said quietly.

Van spun on the spot, but Eli was already disappearing through the door to Talbot's office.  Frustrated, he stalked back to the elevators and leaned on the call button.

What the hell was all that?  He raked a hand through his hair.  He'd never understood the phrase 'blowing hot and cold' as well as he did at that moment.  Pacing the marble tile of the hallway, Van growled under his breath.  He was too old for these fucking games.

Unwilling to wait for the elevators, he slammed through the stairwell door, taking the steps two at a time.  Halfway down the stairs, his phone went off.

"Harris," he said sharply, thumbing the volume up as his voice echoed around the stairwell.

"Ah," Captain Lamonte said, sighing.  "You've heard."

"Yes, sir.  I'm on my way in."  Van barely restrained the urge to bang his fist on the banister.

"You're not scheduled for twenty-four hours," Lamonte said, but Van could hear him clicking away at his computer in the background.  The Captain had been part of the reason that Van had transferred to Las Vegas and stayed as long as he had.  He knew Van too well to think he'd actually stay home.  "Miller's with Vasquez and Collins out in Summerlin if you want to join them."

"On my way, sir," Van said, grateful to not have to head back to his empty house just now.

Stepping out in the sun made him wince.  It felt like the temperature had risen ten degrees since he'd gone inside, and he was sweating by the time he got to his car.  In fitting with the theme of the day, the seat belt buckle burned his fingers as he got strapped in.  Taking a moment to rest his head against the too-hot steering wheel, he cursed tiredly.

Maybe he'd go home after all.

"Attention all cars, 211 in progress at Scotty's Pawn," the dispatch announced as the radio crackled to life.

For a full ten seconds, Van considered ignoring it.  "Fuck," he muttered, picking up the handheld.  "Why the hell not?"