Fandom:	Houston Knights
Series:	Other Auhors
Rating:	NC-17
Pairing:	Joe/Levon
Archive:	Starwinder's
Title:	Dear Abby
Author:	Glo
e-mail:	Goglow@mailcity.com
Standard Disclaimer: Houston Knights belongs to Jay Bernstein and Michael Butler and Columbia Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fan fiction, written out of love for the shows. I am making no money off this. I have no money so please don't sue me. Any original characters that may appear in these stories are the property of the author.

Dear Abby
By Mac

It was sitting on his desk top, right in the middle, in plain sight, when he returned from gettin' a cup of coffee. He looked around the bullpen sharply but those fellow detectives present in the Houston Police Department's Major Crimes Unit bullpen all had their heads bent over paperwork. None looked like they were monitoring his actions, waitin' to see him see this.

Levon Lundy sank into his seat and pulled the clipping toward himself. Looked like parts of several newspaper advertisements. Didn't make any sense. Then he turned it over. And read it.

***********

Joe LaFiamma had called in sick for the day. It was the second time in as many weeks that he'd overindulged after work and was paying the price. He would have gone in but there was no urgency today. He and his partner, Lundy, would just be putting together the paperwork on their latest case. It was just a matter of finishing touches. Then lots of filing. He'd done the big piece, the summary with all attachments, last night before he left. He'd waved Lundy out, saying he was nearly done. Now that he had his own wheels, it was a good idea to put some space between him and Lundy whenever he could. Otherwise he was going to get himself in serious trouble one of these days. SERIOUS trouble with that sexy, straight cop.

The hangover he'd earned with half of a bottle of scotch was making him pay dearly for his depression of the night before. He'd managed to forget those skin-tight jeans for a few brief hours but now he not only was thinking about them, he was hurting too.

[Mio Dio, my head hurts.] He rubbed gently at his eyes and squinted in the harsh daylight flooding his bedroom window. Groaned as his stomach clenched and rippled, then he was staggering, weaving to the bathroom and hanging over the toilet seat, retching his guts out.

When the first wave of nausea passed, he remained seated on the cold tile floor, head resting on the cold porcelain rim of the bowl. He knew from past experience that he wasn't done yet.

**********

Levon reread the clipping. It hadn't changed. Whoever cut it out knew precisely who'd written it and who it was about. He crumpled it up in his fist, then dropped it and was smoothing it out again on the desk top. He sensed that he wuz bein' watched and looked up and into the understanding eyes of Annie Hartung from where she sat in her wheelchair in the doorway.

"You put this here." It wasn't a question. As soon as he saw her, he knew she'd done it. She was a long-time friend, a gracious and caring lady, and lately she'd taken up hiz pardner as a kinda crusade. Tryin' to find a way to git the two o'them to make peace.

Trouble wuz, the boy jest couldn't let things rest, never let somethin' go onct hiz teeth wuz in it. Sometimes it had paid off, other times, jest made life aggravatin' fur a spell.

"Yes. When I read it this mornin', I knew. Thought it was time you did, too, Levon." Her gentle voice was kind. Her large eyes were sympathetic. "I'm worried about him, Levon. And he didn't come in to work again today."

"Agin?"

"You remember he called in sick last week? I finally got him to tell me what was wrong. He'd got himself a granddaddy of a hangover."

"LaFiamma? He never drinks."

"He'd like you to think that, for sure."

"Annie -" Levon paused, uncertain what to say.

"Go find him, Levon. You know what to do." Then she was pushing at the wheels of her chair and pulling back out of the doorway, turning and heading off, back towards her office.

Lundy sat and stared at the empty doorway, the clipping once more clutched tightly in hiz hand. With a sudden determination, he stood and walked up the bullpen to the lieutenant's office. He needed the day off, the paperwork could wait.

***********

Joe sagged back into the tight corner between the tub and the toilet bowl, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Then raised a shaking hand up to the flush handle and pulled it. He was numb. He'd vomited three times now. There was nothing left in him except spit and damn little of that. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, letting the chill from the ceramic tiles give him cold comfort. He dozed off after a bit, still collapsed in the bathroom.

Lundy let himself into LaFiamma's apartment. He'd had a key ever since the wacko serial killer, who'd tried to 'become' LaFiamma during the series of dancehall murders, had broken in. It had been a security thing.

He'd never had reason to use it afore now.

The apartment was dark and silent. He didn't call out. Jest quietly closed the door and locked it from the inside. Took off hiz Stetson and set it on the kitchen bar. Hung his gun and holster on the back of one of the bar stools, along with hiz jeans jacket. LaFiamma wuz in here somewhere, his car was still down on the street.

After pacing the downstairs, Lundy looked up at the loft. He couldn't quite see LaFiamma's bed from the bottom of the spiral staircase. Careful not to make too much noise, he started up the stairs.

Once in the loft, a quick look at the mess of the empty bed told him that Joe wuz probably in the bathroom. Levon walked slowly over to the open door and looked through. Caught hiz breath. [Joey!]

The boy looked like he'd passed out on the floor, wedged in by the toilet. With a quick stride, he was crouching down by hiz pardner, pulling him free by hiz wrists.

LaFiamma was limp, his body heavy in sleep state. He felt himself being dragged and didn't have the energy to protest. Let it happen. Then arms were sliding under his and a warm body was hauling him up to his feet, against a firm, flat chest.

"Joe?"

Levon. It's Levon. Here. LaFiamma began to struggle, trying to fight himself free from his partner's arms, but the cowboy would have none of it, holding him even tighter.

"Easy, boy, jest settle down." One hand came up behind his head and guided it down onto the strong, lean shoulder of the blonde.

Oh, lord, give me strength, he thought as the other arm pulled him in close. He just knew he was getting hard, could feel himself heating up, his dick stirring in his boxers, all he had on.

If Levon felt anything, he gave no sign. "Come on, let's git you back in bed." Half-walking him, half-dragging him, Lundy guided the dark Italian back out of the bathroom and over to hiz bed. Helped him sit down. Eased him back onto the mattress and then took hiz ankles and lifted, swinging LaFiamma's legs back into the bed as well. Stood lookin' down at him and then bent over him slowly.

As Levon leaned over the unhappy form of his pardner, he could smell the foul breath of sickness. Gotta git him cleaned up. Leaving the wilted ex-Chicago cop on the bed, Lundy returned to the bathroom and armed himself with a wet cloth, a glass of water and a toothbrush with some toothpaste squeezed out on it.

"Here, Joe, sit up now." Levon sat near the head of the bed and slid an arm around behind the heavy shoulders, urging the man up to a sitting position.

LaFiamma reluctantly sat up. Then Levon wiped at his face, mouth with the cloth, pushed the cloth gently in between Joe's lips, rubbing at hiz teeth. Joe shook his head in stubborn refusal until Levon used hiz free hand to grip Joe's jaw and hold on. Then he dipped the toothbrush in the glass of water and brought it up to Joe's mouth. Forcing it in, he proceeded to give the teeth, gums, and inside of the mouth a thorough cleansing. Even got the tongue.

"Okay, take this water and rinse, spit it back in the glass. I'll bring you fresh water afterwards."

Joe obeyed silently, sinking back down onto the pillows when Levon released him.

Lundy returned quickly with the fresh water and helped Joe to raise up enough to drink it. When the glass was empty, Lundy went into the bathroom and cleaned up the room. Returning, he brought a few more towels, both damp and dry, and a bottle of skin moisturizer. He set everything on the far side of the bed, on the night stand there.

Then he went back around and sat down again, this time facing LaFiamma whose eyes were closed tightly. "Joe?"

When there was no response, the blonde touched hiz face gently with two fingers, letting the touch become a stroke down the cheek. The brunette's eyes popped open in surprise, fear.

"Lundy?" Joe appeared almost speechless as he gazed up into the cowboy's face, his eyes a deep violet blue. "What do you want?"

"You, Joe, you." Levon leaned forward and carefully, precisely applied hiz lips to hiz pardner's. Pressed softly, let hiz tongue come out to lick at the unresponsive lips beneath.

Joe turned his head to the side, his thoughts whirling, fear, elation, lingering sickness, shyness, and confusion all vying for control. A hand captured his face, cupping the far side and forcing him to turn back and face Lundy. The hand speared through his unruly hair, shoving it off his face, lingering there to trace the outline of one eyebrow. "Levon? What are you doing? Why -?"

"You are so beautiful, Joe. Been thinkin' fur a long time that Ah wanted to taste you, touch you. Love you. Iffn you'd let me."

"Me?"

"Yep. You."

"I don't understand. You never -"

The fear in Joe's voice cut into Lundy. He slid his other arm around Joe and pulled hiz reluctant lover up into hiz arms, bringing the dark head up to rest on hiz shoulder as he rubbed hiz head against the dark hair. "I jest didn't know you'd be interested until now."

"But -"

"Hush," Levon kissed the exposed neck near hiz lips. Then spoke again, softly, into Joe's ear. "Tell me to stop and Ah will."

Silence. Then, "No, no, don't stop, oh, Levon, don't stop." And Joe's arms were coming up around the wiry cowboy's back and locking them tightly together.

They sat there, holding each other, for some time. Levon's body heat was warming Joe, reaching into the chill that had been on his soul. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was probably only minutes, Joe cricked his neck around and nuzzled his way toward Lundy's face, mouth. Finding it, he covered the dry lips with his own, kissing with all the love he'd been bottling up for all these months. He felt like a dam that had burst, his flood of love likely to drown them.

Then Levon was kissing back and holding Joey's head firmly in place with hiz guiding hand. When they finally separated, both panted in air, deprived for too long.

Then Levon was putting soft kisses all over Joe's face, and Joe was trying to kiss him back, quickly becoming frantic as his relief at requited love overcame his shyness. His hands came around front and began to fumble at Lundy's shirt, tugging open the snap buttons on the western shirt. Greedy fingers slipping inside to touch, to touch the chest of his new lover, to run feather-light over hard rising nipples and down to drag at the large silver Rodeo belt buckle.

Lundy stopped kissing long enough to lean back and help Joe git the buckle undone and then clothing was falling away, boots dropping to the carpeted floor.

Joe's boxers came off and they were naked and squirming together on the bed.

Sometime later, Levon lay cuddled inside Joe's arms, curled into a ball of contentment, reminding Joe of a kitten he'd once seen sleeping by it's brother. He wound his own body around the blonde's and hummed his joy. He couldn't imagine how or why Levon had decided to come out to Joe, or why he'd picked now to do it, but he was more thankful than he could say. And his joy knew no bounds as he'd quickly realized that this was love they were exchanging, not simply lust. He closed his eyes and held on tight to Levon as he, too, drifted off to sleep.

***********

Downstairs, lying on the top of the kitchen bar, was the newspaper clipping that Lundy had found on his desktop earlier that day. Face up, it was the small advice column from that day's newspaper. There was a letter, dated from the week before, from when Joe had taken pen and bottle in hand. Dear Abby, it said...

Dear Abby,

I'm getting desperate. I love my partner and he doesn't even know I exist. I come from a different culture, different background, different state. It shouldn't make that much difference but it does. I've been in Houston for two years now and all I do is think of getting those damn, tight jeans off of him and throwing him in the nearest bed. He's never shown the least interest, though and I've started to go back to the bottle. I know I shouldn't. Been on the wagon for over three years. But, Abby, I'm going crazy. What should I do? Signed, A Stranger in a Strange Land, Lonely and Frightened in Houston

Dear Lonely and Frightened in Houston,

Drink never solved anything. You know that or you never would have gotten on the wagon in the first place. Obviously your partner hasn't seen any signs of interest from you, you must be hiding your true feelings very well, indeed. If you want any chance at happiness with him, you have to let him know what you're feeling. You can always show him this letter if you can't figure out how else to let him know. But tell him, you must. Talk to him. He might surprise you.

Signed, Abby

The end

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