|FANDOM: Dalziel and Pascoe
RATING: Nothing really graphic
ARCHIVE: Britslash only
FEEDBACK: Sure! How else can I improve?
What We Say and What We Mean
"After all we've been through?"...the words kept replaying themselves
over and over in Peter Pascoe's mind. It was much later since Peter's
boss, friend and housemate had uttered them. A lot had happened
in their lives lately. Earth-shattering, life-altering.
Peter had saved Dalziel's life from a would-be killer's bullet. In
doing so, had sealed the end of his marriage. Oddly enough, in
some ways he had never felt better. He felt released, freed to be
himself for the first time in years.
It was only Andy, their relationship and future that left him feeling at
a loss and uncertain. He had tried talking to Andy about just that
earlier in the evening and gotten nothing but a put-off from the
older man. But he knew the talk had merely been postponed. He had
no intentions of shelving it.
Fondly, he looked over at the object of his thoughts seated on the other end
of the red sofa. Beer in hand, attention firmly focused on the telly
Andy was seemingly engrossed in the football game. He gave an inward laugh
*this* was his anchor. But he'd have it no other way.
Feeling comfortable and safe, he stretched out his long legs onto the
coffee table, dislodging the day's newspapers, and slid into sleep.
Dalziel cast an exasperated look over at Pascoe, ready to expound once more
untidiness and responsibility, until he realized the
messy git was asleep and his look wasted. Instead, he gentled his gaze and
indulged himself unabashedly in watching the other man sleep. Safe from the
penetrating gaze of seafoam eyes, too knowing sometimes and other times,
Daftly obtuse, if Peter didn't know without being told that there was no
way Andy would leave him, now, when the younger man's world had
seemingly come apart. What's more, Andy wanted Peter here, in his house
and his world for as long as it lasted. All his digs about moving were
mere bluffs, camoflauge to keep his true feelings safely hidden.
Sometimes Andy doubted the benefits of a college
education. Peter was smart, none smarter in his book, but the
younger man oft-times lacked perception and intuition. But under his
tutelage, the other was coming along nicely. Aye, Andy was proud
of his protege. Proud, too, that it was to him that the lovely Peter
turned to when he needed solace and a place to call home. Yes, his Inspector
had breathed life into his too quiet and too tidy home, filling seemingly
every corner, from every flat surface being stacked (untidily) with
books and notes to piles of clothes in the bathroom floor. He'd gotten
used to living with a certain mucky fellow and didn't want to envision
a day when socks weren't drying in his oven or an evening meal wasn't
shared in comradely silence at the end of a mutually long day.
Andy was startled to realize, some 20 minutes later, that the match
had ended and he didn't know nor care the score. So lost in his
daydreams of a continued life with one lovely inspector in it, that he
hadn't heard a word off the telly. With a sigh, he offed the tv with
the remote and touched Peter's hand.
"Bedtime, my Sleeping Beauty", he said.
Peter opened sleepy eyes and smiled softly at the tone and the
words. "Am I yours, Andy?"
Andy traced curving lips with the back of his thumb. Fondly, he said,
"You drool in your sleep, sunbeam. Don't know how Ellie put up with you
as long as she did. Bed time."
With a sigh, Peter got up, once again letting the older man avoid the
question. He went up without a word, leaving Andy to turn off the lights
and lock up, calling good night as the large, silent figure passed his
"Aye, goodnight, Petal. Sweet dreams."
But Peter found he couldn't return to his sleep. A litany of words
flooded his mind.
"Naughty, naughty, binky, boinky." "Add a bit of spice to their
sex lives, being in separate bedrooms." "My lovely inspector."
"Comes down to me and thee." "Every one knows Dalziel, but few know him."
But I do, thought Peter. And I know when he's hiding something and I know
when he's trying to tell me something.
The touches and pet name were usually incongruent with the gruff tones
and words. As were the gestures, like cooking comfort foods or
reading books that he'd recommend. The letting him come home and being made
feel like he belonged. Was Andy trying to tell him something? Something
that the older man felt and wanted, but couldn't take the first steps towards
having? Ellie had often told him that he was the most cautious man she had
ever known, not given to spontaneous actions. He wondered,
briefly, what she'd think about what he was contemplating now. No doubt,
disapprove. She hated it when he was cautious and hated it just as much
when he acted first. Who cared? It wasn't Ellie he was going to. He slipped
out of bed, before his head talked him out of....
.....Dalziel was in the land of Nod, but it wasn't a comforting sleep.
Since a certain Inspector had moved into his home, thus permeating
every aspect of his life, he now had no respite from what he wanted and
couldn't have. And what his daytime self must deny, his subconscious
played over and over of what it could be like with Peter in his arms.
Tonight was no different. His dreams gave him power, made him strong
enough to offer his heart and never give up till Peter loved him. And
each time, the rewards were sweet. His dream Peter, the succubus Peter,
never spoke with words, but spoke the language of love with
seductive and gentle eyes, coaxing hands and a mouth that beckoned to be
Tonight, the dream seemed even more potent. His dream lover's hands had
him stiff and at attention in two sure strokes. One nipple was pinched
and teased, while the secret tender spot right behind and below his ear was
licked and kissed.
He pushed forward into the insistent hand at his cock and then back,
encountering a hardness poking into his backside. It was this and
the murmured whisperings of his name that stilled the sleeping man and
brought him to wakefulness. Never before had his dream Peter spoken to him.
And never before had there ever been more than his cock involved.
Never having fancied a fellow, his dream self had never gone where
no man had gone before. So why the change now? It was enough to jolt Dalziel
awake only to have a deja vu experience of hands and lips still upon him.
Trained to be instantly awake, it took him only seconds to realize this was
no dream and that a long, lean, very male, body was wrapped around his.
He had never felt so good nor so confused.
"Lose your way in the dark, petal?"
As usual, Peter ignored the words and went with the tone, which was ever so
softly pleading. "Tell me to stop and I will. We'll never say anything about
this and I'll move out in the morning, transfer away, whatever you want."
Andy lay thoughtful for a short bit before covering Pascoe's hand with his
own and gave a little thrust. "Don't lets be hasty. You know how I hate a
Realizing it would be all right and that they would be all right, Pascoe
laughed, then bit down on the fleshy shoulder beneath his lips.
"Aye, I don't know what you college-educated lot get up to in bed, but
I'm not into the rough stuff and I don't like it one-sided. Here, let
me get at you."
Peter welcomed the larger man into his arm. Andy, suddently unsure, paused
and asked, "Can you take it, petal?"
Answering all the questions that lay within, he pulled Andy closer, "Try me."
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