Fell's Point Fromage VI: Deja Vu All Over Again


Everyone here but me belongs to NBC, Tom Fontana, Dick Wolf, and those folks. I'm not looking to buy, heck, I'm not even serious about renting.I'm just squatting. Don't sue, I'm poorer than I look.

It was the end of shift, that strange time when the squadroom was either doubly packed or absolutely deserted.

Tonight, it was the latter. Second Shift nowhere to be found just yet, and while Kay Howard had mumbled something about sticking around until _someone_ showed up, everyone else had made to split. Bayliss had headed off to his shift at the bar, Gee was still sequestered with Colonel Barnfather, Lewis and Kellerman were who-knows-where doing god-knows-what, and Brodie hadn't been spotted by anyone in days. ("Maybe he's lying dead in the video room." "I'll flip you for the case, Cassidy." "Uh-uh. Mine. I need the black ink." "Yeah, right, not as badly as I do." "It doesn't matter, Kellerman, if Brodie was dead, we'd have smelled it by now." "We always smell Brodie." "It'd be the same, but there'd be no Brut to cover it up." "Good point.")

Brian Cassidy narrowly avoided bowling into Frank Pembleton, hat on his head to indicate his imminent departure, as Cassidy backed towards the locker room, busy firing comebackers at John Munch. As usual, Brian was losing the war. Badly.

"Cassidy, why is impossible for Queens natives to think and either walk or talk at the same time?" Pembleton half-grumbled. "Is it something they put in the water? Is it the proximity to Long Island? Why is everyone from that borough so _bereft_ of coordination? I bet that's the _real_ reason they don't allow chewing gum in schools..."

Cassidy paused for a moment, then realized he was stopping walking to think and started to edge towards the locker room again. But not before Pembleton gave him that cheshire-cat grin of self-satisfaction, pleased with himself and with his own joke.

"At least we can keep a baseball team around," Cassidy retorted as he turned away again.

"The Mets don't count," Frank replied, exasperated. "They've been around thirty years. The Giants were around for twice that."

"Actually, there was a New York Metropolitans in the 1880's," Munch ambled over. "Back in the days when the team photograph was taken with everyone in tuxedoes."

"Since when do you know anything about baseball?" Cassidy asked. He had tried to talk to Munch on many occasions about sports, but had always been treated to a lecture on intellectual versus unintellectual pursuits.

"I have always known about baseball, Hop-Along," Munch patted Cassidy on the shoulder. "I just don't care." And with that, he headed out the squadroom door.

Brian looked over at Pembleton, who smirked. It was as close to comradeship as Frank had ever come with Cassidy, and as close as he was going to get. Brian smiled back, appreciating the moment of closeness, and was still grinning as he headed on to the locker room to change his shirt.

For once, the locker room door didn't squeak terribly. Kellerman had been joking about oiling it with the grease from the hamburgers they were snarfing at Jimmy's earlier in the week, but Cassidy doubted Mike had actually tried it. If he had, Kellerman would have invited Cassidy along to help out.

Brian went over to his locker and opened the lock, getting the combination right on the first try for once, and was out of his dress shirt when he thought he heard a noise. Perking his ears up, Cassidy listened closely.

There was definitely a noise. Soft, but there. Cassidy's first thought was that a rat was sniffing around by the sinks. Lewis had told him about the giant rats that lived in Evidence Control, both the two-legged and the four-legged varieties. Picking up a shoe, Cassidy looked at it for a moment, pondered trying to clean rat guts off of it, and put it down. Quickly breaking into Bayliss' adjacent locker, he picked up one of Timmy's spare loafers and headed towards the sink.

The noise was getting louder with each step. Except it didn't sound like a rat anymore. It sounded like... sucking? Kissing. Someone's playing tonsil hockey, Cassidy sang to himself. He shouldn't go and see who it was. He really shouldn't...

Cassidy edged forward when a soft moan carried his way. A guy's moan, followed by more slurping noises. Who's getting a blowjob in the locker room? Cassidy wondered, cock twitching slightly at the thought. I said I wasn't sure I wanted someone watching me, Munchkin, Cassidy silently rebuked his absent partner, I didn't say I didn't want to watch.

Another moan brought Cassidy back to the present. It was deep and obviously aroused and... male? Okaaayyy. Cassidy inched forward, to the edge of the bank of lockers. Slowly poking his head around the corner, Brian bit back a yelp when he saw who it was. What the fuck?

Cassidy edged forward again, as if a second look would change the fact that Mike Kellerman and Meldrick Lewis were going at it hot and heavy against the back wall of the sink alcove of the Homicide locker room. It didn't. There they were, Kellerman leaning against the cinderblock wall, head tilted back, eyes closed and face flushed bright pink as Lewis was licking and suckling his neck.

Brian could only stare, his own cock getting harder by the moment, pressed ever more uncomfortably against the cool metal locker. Kellerman's shirt was partially unbuttoned, his tie nowhere to be found. At least not until Lewis moved his left hand into view, the light blue fabric wrapped around it. Mikey had his fish tie on today, Cassidy thought absently.

Lewis' hand moved down Mike's body, finally coming to rest on Kellerman's belt buckle. The fingers drifted down, rubbing, teasing, massaging as Kellerman's groans turned into whimpers. Cassidy could hear Meldrick chortle against Mike's neck.

"Tell me what you need, baby," Lewis instructed, "tell me what you want me to do." The tie-wrapped hand abandoned the belt-buckle completely, gently cupping Mike's groin, alternately rubbing and softly squeezing.

"Oh, God," Mike whimpered, "Meldrick... please."

"Please what, baby? Gotta tell me what you want." Lewis suckled again on Mike's neck.

"You... Oh, god... Meldrick, please... do *something*..." Mike's pleas were answered with some more intense strokes through the fabric of his pants and a giggle.

Lewis took his hand away and Kellerman sighed in disappointment, soon replaced by a gasp as Lewis trailed his tongue along Mike's exposed chest, sinking to his knees in front of Kellerman. Lewis nuzzled Kellerman's abdomen as he unbuckled the belt.

Cassidy pushed away from the locker, too hard to comfortably lean against it. He lost his balance as he stepped back into the nailed-down bench. Putting his arms out to break his fall, Cassidy dropped Bayliss' shoe. The clatter of loafer meeting floor seemed terrifyingly loud to Cassidy, but the pair in the corner must not have heard. They certainly didn't stop moving.

Sitting down on the bench, Cassidy was tempted to tend to his own aching need but was stopped by a curiously rational thought. The only thing more embarrassing than being caught by Lewis and Kellerman watching them, Cassidy reasoned, would be to be caught jerking off watching them.

Standing back up, leaving Bayliss' loafer on the floor, Cassidy shielded himself as much as he could from the pair's view. Lewis had made quick work of the belt and was rubbing Kellerman's cock through his boxers, his tongue flicking out to taste whatever happened to pass by the open fly. As Lewis pulled Mike fully out of his underwear, Kellerman's eyes flew open... and met Cassidy's full on.

Brian was too mesmerized to remember to try to look embarrassed, or surprised, or anything other than completely aroused himself. To Cassidy's surprise, Kellerman didn't look angry or surprised, either. Just hot. Really, really hot. Cassidy reflexively stuck his tongue out and licked his lips. Kellerman smiled slightly, hands gently stroking Lewis' head, murmurs urging his partner on. Cassidy's eyes drifted down, following the arc of Kellerman's arms, and on to Lewis, making like the best Oreck around. Where the hell did he learn how to do that?

Cassidy looked back up to Kellerman's face. Mike's eyes were closed, but he must have sensed Brian's gaze and blue eyes met green. It was Kellerman's turn to let his gaze drift down, on to Cassidy's obviously affected groin. Mike smiled at Brian, a 'don't you wish you were where I am' smile. Cassidy gave him his best 'damned straight' return stare. I'd rather be where Lewis is, though, Cassidy thought....

Kellerman's eyes closed suddenly, his head thrown back against the wall. Lewis, one hand massaging Mike's balls and one hand at the base of his cock, had Kellerman closer than Mike realized. The groans got more forceful, finally breaking into a yell....

... It took Cassidy a moment to figure out what the noise was. The alarm. It was time to get out of bed. Oh. Brian blindly reached out from under the covers to turn off the buzzer, the other hand running down his stomach... and coming across one hell of a good-morning erection. He was tempted to take care of it himself -- when was the last time you found someone to do that for you, Bri? -- when it suddenly came to him exactly why the flag was at more than half-mast.

Oh shit. You just had an x-rated dream about Lewis and Kellerman. Cassidy rubbed his hands over his face. Oh, shit. What does this mean? I don't want to suck off Mikey. I'm straighter than an arrow. Why the *fuck* would I be dreaming about Kellerman?

A (cold) shower didn't resolve any of the questions, but Cassidy had almost managed to get the heebeegeebees out of his system by the time he got to work. Mostly courtesy of a nasty accident with trying to toast a bagel in the broiler.

Cassidy bounded up the stairs towards the squadroom, dancing around two uniforms and through the doors.

Howard checked her watch. "Congratulations, Cassidy," she drawled. "You win today's competition. Mikey's not here yet. Ya think you or Kellerman could actually show up _on time_ one of these days?" She turned back to her paperwork, a smile on the corner of her mouth the only indication that she wasn't really pissed off.

"Brian, do you have the Pronger file?" Munch asked as Cassidy sat down at his desk, coffee in hand. "I'd look myself, but I majored in literature in college, not archeology. The excavation would be beyond my expertise." Munch tilted his head towards the piles of papers, notes, and files that cluttered Cassidy's desk. With his Second Shift desk counterpart on medical leave, Cassidy had no impetus to actually clean up the mess, and Brian could usually find other things to do. Gee had already made a comment about never having to visit Pisa, what with the leaning towers here in the squadroom...

"Nothing's beyond your expertise, John," Cassidy smiled sweetly at his partner as he immediately pulled the proper file from the correct pile. "You just like to let me feel that I am worthy of basking in your glow every once in a while."

"In his long, dark, shadow's more like it," Lewis walked by and sat down at his desk, paperwork in hand. "The black cloud of gloom."

"Good morning to you, too, Meldrick," Munch replied, unaffected. "To what do we owe this overwhelming perkiness?"

Lewis waved the files he had brought over. "We're murder police, not secretaries. But instead of avengin' the dead, we're here counting paper clips in triplicate."

"Judy and Naomi can at least type, Meldrick," Cassidy said. "You got this funky two-finger thing going."

"Yup, these two fingers," Lewis leaned forward so that Brian could see the double bird-flipping.

"What did you do to my partner, Cassidy," Kellerman asked, setting down his purchase from the Daily Grind on his desk. Cassidy jumped. It was strange enough talking to Lewis across two desks and a support column, but last night's dream came back vividly as Mike sat down next to Cassidy.

"Nothing, at least not yet," Cassidy picked up a rubber band and idly stretched it, making sure Lewis could see.

"You okay, Brian? You look flushed," Munch tilted his glasses so he could see Cassidy without the tinted lenses. "Don't you come down with anything contagious. I have a date Friday night."

"I don't think you're gonna catch what I got," Cassidy shook his head.

"I probably already did," Munch sighed. "Incubation period and all. Cavaliers are the single biggest source of illness in the Baltimore City Police Department."

Cassidy only smirked, but the smile faded as Lewis pulled something out of his suit jacket pocket.

"Mikey, here. You left this at my place Monday night."

"My fish tie," Kellerman accepted the proffered light blue fabric. "My lucky marlin. I always get some when I wear this on dates." He grinned smugly. Cassidy swallowed hard.

"A fish tie?" Munch asked, frankly disbelieving. "Women go for you when you wear a fish tie?"

"They think it's cute," Kellerman shrugged.

"They just want to take it off and make it go away," Lewis chortled. Kellerman smirked nastily at him.

"You got the flu, Cassidy?" Kay asked as she walked towards the quartet of desks. "You look pretty peaked. You need to go barf or somethin'?"

Cassidy shook his head no and took a long sip of coffee. "It'll pass, I hope."

"A'right, but don't you dare puke in the squadroom, huh?" Kay waggled a finger at him. Cassidy saluted.

"I am *not* going to retype the report," Pembleton bellowed from across the room.

"But you left out the most important parts of the confession," Bayliss was holding a file and looking something between stubborn and scared.

"The most important part of the confession, *Tim*, is the part where he says 'I did it,'" Frank intoned. "The rest is just window dressing. And, in this case, is also the result of a subsequent interview. An interview which, by the way, you conducted solely to satisfy your own curiosity. I am *not* typing that up."

"It's not curiosity," Bayliss objected.

"No, it's the actions of whatever part of your twisted psyche forces you to persist until you understand just why a killer did what he did, why he chose that victim, why he decided to wear that pair of socks to do the deed," Frank was less angry than exasperated. "I don't care why. And, since I'm the primary on this case, that's all that matters."

Bayliss put down the file and went to go sulk in the coffee room. Cassidy reached for his coffee mug, meeting Munch's glance as he did.

"Cassidy, we may share very little in common," Munch said, "but at least we agree on the basics of paperwork." Cassidy rolled his eyes in amusement. He knew that the other detectives were as relieved to be free of such a combative partnership as they were jealous of the symbiosis of Bayliss and Pembleton. Cassidy himself wasn't sure if he could take such an intense relationship. It was like being married, and he knew he wasn't ready for that, on the job or off of it.

Howard had come over to sucker one of the pairs of detectives into taking a suspiciously whodunit-sounding shooting and Kellerman had lost the coin toss. Cassidy felt better with the duo out of sight and they were soon out of mind after Ed Danvers stopped by to grill Munch and Cassidy on the particulars of a case going to trial the following week.

By the end of the shift, Cassidy's strange feelings had evaporated and he followed the rest of the crew over to the Waterfront for beers.

Cassidy decided to call it a night, however, after Bayliss started grilling his fellow detectives as to why one of his spare shoes was on the floor of the locker room and why they must persist in picking his lock...

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