Title: A Debt To Be Paid
Author/pseudonym: K9
Email address: K9@internetdump.com
Rating: R (?)
Pairings: Bob/Paul
Fandom: Thief Takers
Status: Incomplete
Date: 21st Sept.'99
Archive: Yes
Archive author: Yes
Archive email address: Yes
Series/Sequel: umm??????
Category: Um?? Romance?
Author's website: http://internetdump.com/users/k9 

Disclaimer: Thief Takers belongs to someone else. I get nada for my troubles

Notes: In response to Helen's pleading and nagging, I had a go. Don't expect miracles and when I get the urge, I might carry on<g>  Not beta-ed and only spell-checked by my deranged, possessed version of Word.

Summary: Bob takes care of Paul after he's released from the hospital.

Warnings: m/m (what else???)

A Debt To Be Paid

By K9

A rap at the door alerted D.I Charlie Scott to the fact that Bob Tate was leaning heavily against his door-post, making the place look untidy.

"Can I have a word, Guv?" Bob smiled.

"Yeah, come on in, Bob. I'm just finishing up the paperwork on those blaggers. Nicely done, by the way."

Bob Tate smiled and nodded, "Chalk another one up to the good guys, eh?" he said as he seated himself the other side of Charlie's desk.

"What can I do for you?" the D.I asked, finally looking up.

"I wondered if it would be possible to take a few personal days? I'm owed a fair bit of holiday and I know that I'm supposed to put in a request weeks in advance, but I wondered how possible it would be to take it now?"

Charlie watched Bob squirm slightly as he made the request. Mentally he checked off the days since the shooting, "This wouldn't have anything to do with Paul Valera, would it?" he asked.

Bob's open, astonished face shot up to face his boss, "How...?" he began, "Yeah, it would. He's being released from hospital and he needs somebody to keep an eye on him for a few days."

"And that 'somebody' is you?"

"He hasn't got anyone else. And I figured that I owed him one."

"He's a criminal, Bob. The only reason he wasn't banged up with the others was because he was so badly injured. That and the statement you made about his involvement being 'purely to aid police action' against the gang made sure that when he's recovered he'll just get a slap on the wrist and some community service. But we know different don't we, mate?"

"We could never have brought them down without him and he almost got killed for his trouble."

"He helped 'us' because we gave him no choice. It was that or prison," Charlie sat back in his chair and watched Bob's reaction to this whole conversation carefully, hoping beyond hope that he wasn't seeing what he thought he was.

"He didn't have to do what he did, Guv. Not for the squad, not for me."

"You protected him."

"I *used* him!" Bob's raged momentarily. Regaining his control, he smiled slightly, "I did my job, I got him to help us, but... there were things that were... different about this. Things I'm not proud of."

Charlie's eyebrows raised into his hairline, "Really? Something you've not put in your report? I know you've slept with informants before, Bob, but.."

"I didn't *sleep* with him!" Bob gasped, "Fucking hell, Guv, what d'you take me for?"

"That a serious question?"

Bob rubbed his forehead briefly as if trying to wipe away an oncoming headache, "I suppose I've asked for that," he replied, "I just got fond of his Dad, I...made it my business to visit him when he was dying. Paul thought that it was all part of the con job, but it wasn't. He was a nice bloke and I really liked him. I made his last few days a nightmare for Paul, what with the stress of his Dad's illness and me pressuring him over the job, and I'd just like to try to make it up to him somehow."

With a sigh, Charlie nodded, "Okay, Bob. I'll book you in for seven days leave, that okay? I'll cite 'family illness' as the reason."

Laughing at the irony of it, Bob climbed to his feet, "Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it."

"Oh and Bob, be careful. There is such a thing as over compensating for imagined debts."

"Yeah, I know. It's okay I know what I'm doing."

"No one else will know the real reason you're off, I think it's best we keep this between us," Charlie warned.

"Yeah, Guv, thanks. Don't suppose a lot of people would understand a copper taking time off to look after a gay criminal?" he grinned, "Can't say I really understand it myself."

"No, well, I trust that you *do* know what you're doing?" Charlie watched as Bob opened the door and began to step through, "Oh and Bob? Watch your back."

A few moments later, Bob Tate's head popped back around the door, "Was that last comment *meant* to be smutty, Sir?" he grinned.

As Bob entered the hospital ward, suitcase in hand, Paul Valera's face lit up into a smile.

"You came then?" he said, his voice edged with excitement, "I thought you might change your mind?"

"I said I'd come and pick you up didn't I?" Bob replied laying the case on the end of the bed. "I put in some light cotton trousers and a sweatshirt...oh and some trainers."

"Did you remember my clean underwear and socks?"

"Shit, I forgot the socks!"

Paul smiled, "Never mind, could have been worse, you could have forgotten my trousers, then you'd have had to arrest me," he grinned as he pulled out the clothes, "Pull the curtain around, will you?"

Bob closed the curtains around the bed and helped Paul sit on the edge.  "Will you be okay getting dressed while I go and pick up your pills?"

"Yeah, I'm a big boy. I've been dressing myself for a few years now," Paul smirked.

"I'll be back in a minute. *Do not* move from here until I get back."

Paul's eyes twinkled with mischief, "Yes, Master," he purred seductively.

Bob's eyes narrowed and he attempted an angry glare, "And you can cut *that* out, for a start."

As the car cruised past the turn off for Paul's street, the younger man frowned.  "What's going on? You kidnapping me? Or are we just going somewhere that it's easy to dispose of the body?" he asked with puzzlement.

"You're staying with me for a few days," Bob replied flatly, "That's the only reason the hospital would release you, if you had someone to watch you until the tablets get used to your system. They were concerned about you being alone and having one of those convulsions."

"Staying with *you*?" Paul gasped.

"It's that or the nursing home. Your choice."

"You don't mind?"

"You wouldn't be coming back with me if I did."

"I didn't know you had a spare room," Paul said, his throat tightening.

"I don't."

The young mans' jaw dropped. A sudden flurry of all the delicious possibilities swamped his brain function.

Glancing over at him, Bob scowled, "And you can stop *that* too. I have a sofa-bed that I can use and you can take my bed until you're feeling better, then you can bugger off home and get out of my hair," he grumbled.

Paul grinned despite himself, "Yeah, right, okay."

Helping Paul carefully from the car, Bob took his arm and guided him into the building.  The journey up to Bob's flat felt like the ascent of the north face of the Eiger, and once inside, the younger man slumped down on the chair, tiredness washing over him, his limbs becoming watery and his head a little dizzy.

"You want something to eat or drink?" Bob asked.

"No, but I could do with a lie down, if that's okay?" Paul replied wearily.

"Yeah, come on, I'll give you a hand to get into the bedroom." Almost lifting the slighter man to his feet, Bob steered Paul into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. "You look exhausted," he mumbled.

"I feel exhausted," Paul smiled.

Bob bent down and unlaced Paul's trainers, pulling them off and dropping them underneath the chair.  "You want to get undressed or do you just want to have a kip on top of the covers?"

"I'll just lie on top for now, until I get my wind back," Paul held onto Bob's arm as he tipped him back on the bed and pulled the duvet across him gently.

"You want anything?" he asked.

Paul shook his head, but reached out and with the barest touch, stroked Bob's cheek with his fingertip.  "Thanks," he whispered, "For everything."

Blushing slightly, the older man nodded and stood up straight, "Get some rest. Give me a shout when you want to get out of bed. Don't want you bursting those stitches." And with a last macho nod, he walked away.

As the sounds of reality blended inexorably into dream-state, Paul let fly his wildest fantasies.  Since that first meeting in the bar, Bob had turned him on something rotten.  But, when he saw how tender the bigger man had been with his dying father, how thoughtful and kind, Paul had spun out of control into a state of infatuation and ultimately fallen in love.  Oh, he knew it was one sided and always would be. Bob had only come on to him in the first place to entrap him into helping catch the gang, but hormones didn't listen, they refused to co-operate when he patiently explained to them that Bob was *straight* and a copper.  Every time he looked up as he lay in the hospital and saw Bob striding down the ward, his blood pressure shot off the scale and his dick hardened. It had gone way past the point where he just *wanted* the man, just a really good fuck on a rainy night. No, now he *desired* the man.  In this warm, welcoming world, he saw Bob stroll into the room.

"How you feeling?" he whispered.


"Strong enough?"

Paul frowned, "Strong enough for what?" he asked.

With a sly smile, the older man leaned across him, his face so close they were almost touching noses, "This," he said slowly as his lips brushed Paul's.  The kiss was so soft, so sweet that it was little more than a sigh, a breeze brushing the surface of Paul's lips.

Groaning at the delicate touch that was sending jolts of pleasure straight to his groin, Paul reached out, his fingers digging into muscular shoulders as he tried to pull the warm, inviting body closer.  He was so desperate to feel Bob's weight above him, pressing down, trapping him against the bed, forcing his body to still.  As the delicious heaviness of the other man finally pushed down, Paul spread his legs allowing Bob to settle between them. Their heated erections suddenly clashing through fabric, begging for freedom.

"Please?" Paul begged, knowing that somehow Bob would understand, that he would know what was needed, what Paul desired.

Bob kissed savagely at Paul's throat, "Yes," he hissed and his hand slid down, slipping between heated, writhing bodies. Paul's hips bucked wildly as his partners fingers moved over his hardness. "I want you naked," Bob growled...

..."Paul?" Bob said a little more loudly.

Jerking awake, the younger man tried to sit up suddenly, but the room spun and he fell back, "Oh Christ!" he gasped.

"It's okay, mate. Sorry I had to wake you, but it's time for your tablets.  The hospital told me to keep them on schedule."

Gazing up glassily, Paul blessed the fact that he'd pulled the duvet tightly around him, it hid his erection and saved his blushes, "Thanks. Sorry, I must have er.. been dreaming."

"It's okay. When you feel like eating, I've made some stew. It can be reheated later if you're not hungry yet."

"You've *cooked*?"

Bob pouted, "I'm not a *total* Neanderthal, you know. Anyway, most of the ingredients came out of a can," he said with a degree of embarrassment.

"Thanks. Just let me get my bearings and I'll be out." Paul smiled up at the older man and lay crouched on his side, his aching cock still throbbing and pounding at him.

"Right. Gimme a call if you need any help with anything," Bob said as he closed the door behind him.

With a whimper, Paul slid his hand down to rest on his demanding organ, "If only you meant that," he whispered to himself as he relieved the tension of it with a few heavy strokes of his hand. "Shit, if *only* you *meant* that."

End of this bit<g>

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