Messenger
by elfin
"...and another thing!"
Tom held the receiver away from his head for a moment downing the glass
of Scotch in one mouthful.
"I smiled a lot more when you were around. Laughed too, for that
matter! Now the only thing I have to look forward to is Scott's
miserable face in the morning and even he doesn't join me for breakfast
in the canteen!"
He sniffed dramatically before deflating. To balance the handset
between his chin and shoulder in order to lean over and grab the bottle
from the coffee table was a finely honed skill he'd learnt as a
sergeant. Unfortunately, after half a bottle of Scotch his skills
weren't so finely honed. He dropped the phone half a second
before he dropped his glass. But he kept the bottle safe at least.
Rescuing the receiver, it took him a moment to realise he was speaking
into the earpiece. Turning it, he apologised.
"Oops. Sorry about that."
Gazing down at his glass on its side on the floor and dropped back into
the sofa cushions.
"Gavin.... I... miss you. I keep thinking back to that
night - when you left. I should have told you-"
A shrill beep shocked him into dropping the receiver again and when
he'd fished it out the line was dead.
Sadly, he threw the phone into the other side of the sofa and leaned
down for his glass, refilling it slowly.
Joyce would be back soon. She'd probably be mad he was drunk
again.
~
Gavin pressed the 'Play' button on the answerphone and dropped his
jacket over the back of the armchair, dropping into the sofa, surprised
at how long it took the tape to rewind.
'Gavin, it's me. Tom. It's been a bad week and... I just
wanted to talk to you.'
Glancing up at the machine, at the slur in his old chief's voice, he
listened. For twenty minutes.
'I never realised how much attention you paid to me until Scott wasn't
paying it. He doesn't want to learn. He doesn't even want
to be here. You were a friend as well as a colleague. I was
too... obstat... obstinate to admit that."
His eyes strayed to the one bottle on the surface between the kitchen
and the lounge. An expensive bottle Tom had given him the
afternoon he'd left Midsomer.
He wondered if that's what Tom had been drinking when he'd left the
message.
'...Scott's miserable face and even he doesn't join me for breakfast in
the canteen!"
Gavin laughed to himself. He recalled freshly cooked bacon and
eggs on cold winter mornings. At the time he'd taken Tom's
company for granted, had still seen the man as his boss and therefore
someone to be polite and friendly to. He remembered always
searching for the right answers, hoping whatever he said didn't sound
completely stupid. Without knowing it, he'd changed, leant to fly
under Tom's very patient wing.
On the tape there were the sounds of scuffling and muffled
swearing. Closing his eyes, Gavin imagined Tom dropping the phone
as he tried to reach for something - possibly the bottle?
'Oops. Sorry about that.'
He laughed out loud, feeling a hundred times better than he had when
he'd stepped through the door tonight.
'Gavin.... I... miss you.'
Opening his eyes, he stared across at the black box. Never before
had he heard the tone of Tom's voice.
'I keep thinking back to that night - when you left. I should
have told you-'
The tape automatically started to rewind and Gavin yelled at it in
frustration before he even thought about why. What is it that Tom
wanted to tell him?
He eyed up the phone but it was gone one in the morning and according
to the machine Tom had left his message at just after eleven.
He'd be in bed now, sleeping it off. Next to Joyce.
The reason he'd left Midsomer was to get away from temptation.
They'd both known the attraction was there. On that last night
they'd almost... but not quite. Because Tom loved his wife and
daughter and so did Gavin. They'd become family to him over the
years, so much closer to him than his own parents.
He'd left so that they could never hate him.
But now his mind filled with private smiles and jokes shared in
silence. The time Tom had called him to his side with a whistle
and he'd gone, the dirty look on his face countered by Tom's cheeky
smile. The night his chief had first noticed him as more than his
sergeant, casting longing glances in his direction throughout an
interview.
Tom missed him and as much as he loved Middlesbrough, as much as he was
realising his ambitions up here, his dreams still had their base in
Midsomer. His fantasies were of stolen kisses in the front of the
car at the side of a lonely country lane and hidden touches over beer
garden tables outside quiet pubs.
Closing his eyes he let his mind wander, imagining flitting
scenes. Breakfast in the canteen on a cold morning, warmed by the
smile in Tom's eyes; a case solved by an inspiration striking them both
at the same time; stepping into the office with Tom in the morning,
side by side, leaving 'Scott' to only guess at why they'd arrived
together.
And now 'Scott' - a man he'd never met - was forefront in his
mind. He didn't begrudge the man Tom's knowledge and wisdom but
he could still feel the thrill of success in Tom's praises, the glow of
pride when he heard the words 'good work'.
He could understand Scott's wariness to a degree. Midsomer had
been Gavin's home from the tender age of five and he'd still
left. To a man more used to the busy life of a city - worse, of
London - Midsomer must seem quieter than the grave.
Gavin had chosen to move north, for many reasons, but no one had forced
the decision and he hadn't (up until tonight) had any regrets.
But from what Tom had said in earlier, more sober phone calls, Scott
had been transferred to Midsomer as punishment for some unknown sin.
The man hated it there, resented being a lowly sergeant in a county
full of pensioners and madmen.
None of this stopped the threads of jealousy that were slowly winding
through Gavin's mind and heart.
Middlesbrough had lived up to expectations but it still wasn't
home. Sharing a coffee in the mornings with his team didn't rate
against sitting down for bacon and eggs with Tom. Having a couple
of beers in the pub after work didn't quite thrill him as much as the
prospect of an evening barbecue at the Barnabys or even (and this was
the strange thing) working late at Tom's side.
Worse, and it had taken a couple of months, but he'd found to his
astonishment that his Middlesbrough FC season ticket didn't really
compare to five-a-side football matches that Tom would sometimes come
out to watch and cheer him on. Or even to the cricket on the
village greens that the Barnabys seemed to take pride in attending
whenever his team was playing.
It always came down to Tom. The warmth in his eyes, the pride in
his smile, the affection in his touch.
Was Scott on the receiving end of that now?
He glanced over at the only photograph he owned. Cully had sent
him a 'Good Luck In Your New Home' card a week after he'd moved to
Middlesbrough and inside it she'd tucked a photo she'd taken of him and
Tom sitting at the picnic table on the Barnabys' patio. They were
opposite one another, leaning in across the table to share whatever it
was Tom had been saying.
Gavin couldn't remember the moment, nor Cully taking the photo.
But when he'd first seen it the rapt concentration on his own face had
shocked him. How could no one else see that? Was he always
that obvious? Did he wear all his feelings so blatantly?
His treacherous mind conjured up an image of Tom with his arm flung
casually around a stranger's shoulders, laughing with him.
But what was it Tom had said close to the end of his message?
Something about smiling and laughing more when Gavin had been around.
The most enduring memory of his years as Tom Barnaby's sergeant was of
laughter. They'd always had fun together. He hated to think
of Tom being miserable.
An idea struck him and he picked up the phone. It took a couple
of seconds for him to recall the direct line number to Tom's desk phone
but he keyed it in and waited for it to ring out at the other
end. Finally he was transferred to the answerphone.
"Tom, it's Gavin. I got your message but it's after one and I didn't
think you'd appreciate being woken, especially if your headache's as
bad as it sounded like it might be." He chuckled softly to
himself, softly asking, "What's with the drinking anyway? Was the
week so bad? Or is it Scott that's getting to you?" He
could hear his own concern; wanted Tom to hear it too.
"You ran out of tape just before you were about to tell me what you
should have told me the night before I left. I'd really like to
hear it, even if it's too late."
He went to bed a little later, only to be woken by his Superintendent
four hours later. There'd been some trouble at a bar in the city,
a man had been stabbed. Apologising, acknowledging Troy had only
had minimal sleep, Griffiths still needed him at the scene.
Gavin was still rubbing sleep from his eyes when he unlocked his car.
~
Tom dropped into his chair and looked at the red flashing light on his
desk phone. Picking up the receiver, he pressed 1 and keyed in
his pass code.
'Tom, it's Gavin....'
He listened, smiling at Gavin's crack about his hangover. He'd
swallowed three Anadin before leaving the house and he knew he was
lucky he didn't have a pounding headache.
The smile faded from his lips when he heard the end of the
message. He could have claimed he was drunk and didn't know what
he was saying. He could have said, maybe, that he'd forgotten
what he'd been about to admit. But he wasn't that cowardly.
He knew the words that had been on his lips when the tape in Gavin's
answer machine had run out.
"I should have told you I didn't want you to leave." He murmured
the words into the mouthpiece, wondering if he had the courage now to
say them aloud to the man they were meant for.
Putting down the receiver he sat and stared at the phone for long
enough that his coffee was cold when Scott disturbed him.
"Morning, Sir."
Tom looked up, eyes following his less-than-enthusiastic sergeant
across the office. "Morning, Scott."
He was vaguely aware of activity around him but he couldn't get his
mind off the man who used to sit happily where Scott was sitting now,
muttering about the amount of paperwork connected with a man being
murdered.
He couldn't call Gavin and tell him straight out. What would he
say? Gavin was obviously happily settled in Middlesbrough - his
calls over the last couple of months had assured Tom of that.
But Gavin had asked, what had he said - 'Even if it was too
late?' It was. Gavin had left Midsomer for good and too
late Tom had realised how much he hadn't wanted him to. Saying
goodbye that last night had been so difficult it had brought tears to
his eyes to watch his sergeant walk away down the drive for the final
time.
Yet he hadn't been able to say it. With each glass of champagne
he'd inched closer to voicing the words in his head and still hadn't
uttered them.
If he couldn't say them after a bottle of champagne with those big blue
eyes smiling at him and the threat of losing Gavin imminent, he doubted
he could say them in the cold light of day.
About an hour later, Scott dropped a stapled collection of papers onto
Tom's desk.
"Phone records, Sir. Peter Marsden sent about fifty texts to
Marian Sadie the day he died."
Tom's head snapped up. "Texts?"
"Yes, Sir."
He smiled. "Excellent idea, Scott!"
Picking up his mobile it took him a couple of minutes to work out how
to send a text. After that the predictive typing foxed him for a
while but once he'd worked out how to turn it off he was happy.
It took him a good twenty minutes, having never used his mobile to send
a text before, but he finally managed to send a nineteen word message
to Gavin's phone number.
As soon as he read 'Message sent' on the LCD screen he felt uneasy and
anxious. He could only hope Gavin wouldn't take it the wrong way;
losing the young man's friendship would be devastating.
~
Gavin looked up as Sergeant Lock handed him the single-sheet fax.
"Details you asked for, Inspector," he explained good-naturedly.
"Thanks." Just as he took it, his phone beeped twice and vibrated
its way a couple of inches across the desk.
Grabbing it, he pressed 'Show' as he glanced between the fax and the
screen. A second later he put the fax down, its existence utterly
forgotten.
'I wanted to tell you how much I would miss you I did not want you to
leave. Tom.'
He couldn't answer the text, couldn't breathe for a moment, couldn't
think straight for the rest of the day.
He left early, telling his chief he wasn't feeling well. It was
quiet anyway; the paperwork would wait.
When he got home there was a message on his answer machine and he sat
for half an hour with an untouched beer watching The Simpsons on
television for an hour before he played it.
~
Tom spent hours constantly checking his mobile phone for a response to
his message. He started to worry that the text hadn't reached
Gavin but knew there was no way to check.
Finally at three he found himself alone in the office and picked up the
phone, dialling Gavin's home number in Midsomer.
It rang six times before the machine picked up.
~
"Gavin, it's Tom. You asked and I told you, but I'm worried now
that it wasn't what you wanted to hear. Or rather read."
A self-conscious chuckle.
"It doesn't change anything. We both knew, didn't we?
Neither of us would admit it but the attraction... God alone knows why,
Gavin, but I know you felt it. Call me, okay? I'd hate to
think I'd wrecked the friendship we had, Gavin, you... you mean so
much...."
~
Tom waited at the station until ten but there was no return call.
He didn't have the courage to phone Gavin again so instead he went home.
A strange blue VW was in the drive and as Tom pulled up, Gavin got out.
"Too many messages," he stated softly as they stood face to face
between the two cars. "Didn't want to get the wrong end of the
stick."
Tom stared at him. "You drove all this way."
Gavin smiled and shrugged. "Do you think I'd have left if you'd
asked me to stay?"
Holding out his hands, Tom shook his head. "I didn't want to
ask. I can't hold you here, there's nothing I can offer you."
Gavin considered that. He glanced at the dark house looming over
them. "Is Mrs Barnaby at home?"
"No, she's at her Mum's."
"Cully?"
"London."
"Then how about offering me a drink and we'll go from there?"
It was impossible to sit on the sofa with Gavin and not sit too
close. Tom was drawn to him now like he hadn't ever been
before. His one chance to touch, one chance to claim everything
that in low, miserable moments he imagined had always been his.
He was aware that he was being offered everything he'd been too
frightened to admit he wanted. Gavin was regarding him with those
wide, warm blue eyes, watching him steadily. When he took a
mouthful of Scotch, Tom couldn't resist the downwards glance at the
thin, smiling lips.
Without thinking, without speaking, Tom reached out, tracing fingertips
around Gavin's throat.
"I thought there was nothing you could offer me," Troy murmured softly.
"There isn't."
Leaning in he stopped with his mouth no more than a half-inch from
Tom's. "Sure?"
A strangled moan escaped Tom's throat as he cupped his hand around the
back of Gavin's neck and closed the last small distance between them.
Gavin's tongue touching his lips, flicking at the tip of his own,
shattered the final vestiges of his resistance. Tom wrapped his
other arm around the strong young body and brought them as close at the
sofa and their clothes would allow.
Setting glasses aside, Gavin wound himself around Tom as he was lowered
to the sofa cushions, kicking off his shoes and lifting his legs,
wrapping his ankles over the other man's. He moved one leg up,
his heel rubbing the back of Tom's knee through his trousers.
Tom's desperate moans were becoming growls, soft but highly charged.
The sounds were stroking Gavin's growing erection as he arched up to
rub against the hard length of Tom's dick. He needed skin against
skin but Tom's tongue plundering his mouth was too perfect to break
away from even for a moment.
He returned the favour, stroking his tongue along Tom's, stoking the
flames. Tom's hands were pushing between them, unfastening his
shirt.
Gavin couldn't contain his own sounds, swallowed into their kiss.
When a fingernail brushed over one nipple he yelped, clawing fingers
over Tom's back.
Finally he dropped his head back. With a whimper, Tom followed
him; nipping his lips, sucking gently on the tip of Gavin's tongue.
"-om. Wait."
There was a heart wrenching mix of arousal and fear in Tom's eyes when
he lifted his head. Gavin soothing him, stroking his palm over
the greying hair.
"Here's fine," he murmured, "but less clothes, please."
Tom smiled, bright and open. "Want to go to bed?"
"Only... if you're sure."
"I've never been more sure."
Parting to make it upstairs was unacceptable. Tom took Gavin's
hand and led him, both feeling like teenagers as Tom turned out the
lights in the lounge and hall.
Gavin was surprised when he was taken into the master bedroom but he
said nothing. He didn't want to think about consequences as they
shed their clothes.
The first touch of skin to skin was almost more than Gavin could
take. Tom's breath on his shoulder, lips on his throat, teeth on
his earlobe... when a hand closed over his dick he barely managed to
bite back his cry, terrified of coming too soon, of this being over.
But the skilled fingers pressed into the root of his sensitive erection
brought him down a little from the edge.
He kissed Tom's mouth, "Thank you," and was rewarded by a smile loaded
with affection.
Then he was almost physically lifted and dropped to the bed. He
laughed, reaching for Tom and moaning deep in his throat when his lover
crawled over him, deliberately sliding his dick along Gavin's.
"Any more of that," he panted softly, "there's going to be an accident."
"Oh, I hope this is more than an accident."
Tom lowered his head, leaving a trail of light kisses over Gavin's
shoulders down to his chest.
When teeth bit gently into one nipple Gavin's senses overloaded.
He threaded fingers through Tom's hair, silently begging for more of
the exquisite torture.
Tom obliged, using teeth and lips to heat and breath to cool each
nipple, driving Gavin to the brink of orgasm - using the talent of his
touch to bring him down.
Only when he thought his young lover could take no more did Tom move up
to take Gavin's mouth in an open kiss. At the same time he
increased the friction of their dicks, sliding one against the other.
He reached back, sliding his hand along the back of Gavin's thigh to
his knee, teasing the sensitive skin there before moving back along the
inside until his fingertips touched taut testicles a moment before
Gavin came with a desperate yell.
The slick heat covered them both and sparked Tom's own orgasm and he
held Gavin tight as they both rode out the waves of pleasure.
They woke an hour or so later, glued together by the sticky mess on
their stomachs.
"Urgh."
Tom laughed softly as Gavin clambered out of the bed. He watched
the gorgeous, tight naked ass as his lover padded out of the bedroom,
oblivious to the en-suite, and into the main bathroom.
Tom scrambled off the duvet and cleaned himself up. He was back
in bed, duvet thrown back, by the time Gavin wandered back in looking
anxious.
"Not going all shy on me, are you?" he asked, teasing a little.
It brought a wry smile to Gavin's face and a shake of his head before
he climbed into bed, back to Tom.
Tom pulled the duvet up around his lover and snuggled up behind him,
wrapping one arm around him and finding his hand. Fingers
threaded together, Tom pressed a kiss to Gavin's dark hair before he
closed his eyes.
"See, there was something you had to offer me," Gavin spoke into the
darkness, emboldened by it.
"I can always offer you that," Tom countered. "It's... the other
stuff."
"Dinner, flowers and romance?"
A chuckle. "Not quite. You know what I mean...."
Gavin imagined he could feel the proverbial shrug. "Commitment."
Gavin stretched, pressing back against Tom from shoulders to
toes. "You're married, Tom. I know that. You think
I'd be here if I was looking for commitment?"
"Then what?" Asked gently.
Gavin turned his head, eyeing the man behind him. "You don't
believe I could be here simply because it's where I want to be?"
There was a long silence.
"I'm glad you're here."
"Me too."
~
It was just after four-thirty when Gavin eased himself from the warmth
of Tom's arms and padded out again to the bathroom to shower.
Tom was awake when he returned to find his clothes.
"I have to go," he said with real regret.
"I know."
For a minute or so Tom watched Gavin dress in the jeans and sweater
he'd been wearing the night before.
"Gavin, are you happy in Middlesbrough?"
Sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks, Gavin
nodded. "Yeah."
"Will you stay up there?"
"That depends on you." He smiled at his lover. "Long
distance relationships are notoriously difficult, but I imagine they're
impossible when the only time you get are the hours you can steal
together." Moving onto the bed, he straddled Tom's thighs.
"If you want to steal some hours together now and then - if you want me
to - I'll come home."
Tom reached up, stroked hands over wool-covered shoulders, stubbled
throat and face, soft damp hair.
"I don't want to stop you living the life you want."
"I miss Midsomer. I miss village fates and afternoon
cricket. I miss five-aside-football and beer gardens. I
miss you, Tom."
Winding his arms around Gavin, Tom pulled him into a lingering
kiss. "I love you." Gavin drew in a breath,
surprised. But Tom pressed a finger to his lips. "It's
okay. I just wanted to tell you, this time." His reward was
a smile so stunning it made him realise just how badly he missed this
man being at his side.
"I'll call," Gavin promised. "And I'll speak to my chief."
"You know I'm going to make Scott's life hell now until I see you
again."
One last kiss and Gavin went to find his shoes in the lounge. Tom
was at the bottom of the stairs when he emerged, keys in hand.
"See you soon."
"Drive safe."
Prolonging the agony wasn't going to help. Gavin let himself out
of the house and didn't look back, pulling the door closed behind him.
He wondered how long Tom stood there before going back to bed.
fin
elfin
Instant Feedback! Please provide your email addy for a reply! (No
Flames Please)