Work Text:
Max was minding his own business, contemplating a mid-morning bacon butty and cleaning his nails when an orange Ford pulled up alongside his favorite spot next to the bus shelter. He recognised the driver straight off, and watched with interest as the big blond detective climbed out of his car and moved around onto the footpath.
"'morning, officer."
The copper grabbed Max, pulled him off his possie on the low wall and pushed him face-first against the car. "And a bloody good morning to you, yer little pervert." He was swung around and pushed backwards. "I want some words with you!"
Max frowned and straightened, tugging on his expensive imitation Parisian coat. "Please do not mangle the merchandise."
"I'll mangle you till you can't tell yer eyeballs from a boiled egg if you don't mind yer manners." The big hands released him as the copper stepped back, green eyes narrowed. "I've had complaints about you."
"Bullshit! Honest worker I am, fair trade for fair money, clean, no clap, service guaranteed. I even," Max said, with a degree of pride, "pay my taxes. More than some people I know."
"Will you shut the fuck up! You are a very mouthy pole dancer. Now get in the car, I want a word in private with you."
"Oh. Right." Max winked, which seemed to make the copper go even redder in the face than he already was. "Gotcha. Getting in for private conversation. Same rate as last time?"
The cop muttered something obscene as he went around to the driver side and got in the car. Max slid into the passenger seat, wrinkling his nose at the clutter of old chip bags, empty beer bottles, screwed up cigarette packs and overflowing ashtray. "Do you ever clean this thing? It stinks worse than my Uncle Bertie's armpits!"
The car jerked forwards and swung out into traffic. "Keep it up, Max, you'll be collecting my foot in your arse shortly."
Max thought it better not to push the fella any further for a bit, and sat back to enjoy the ride. They drove off the main road and onto a side street and the cop parked the car in a quiet spot next to a burned out shop. He turned the car off and angled his body towards Max, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Right, now we can talk."
"So," Max said, "how did it go?"
"What?"
"Your friend. With the kissing and such. Worked out, did it?"
The cop frowned. "I understand it went adequately. I am told there was some fumbling and a bit o' skin contact but, well, nothing much more."
Max's mind went into overdrive. This was a copper, a fairly senior one by the look of him, and he'd found himself with certain urges where another fella was concerned. Maybe even another copper. As much as Max was a professional and didn't get involved with his marks, the idea of two coppers doing it was enough to stir even his fascination. Not to mention imagination. Not to mention curiosity, which he suspected would never be answered.
Now that's a set of picnic snapshots even I'd look at!
"Well," he said, continuing the charade, "do you think your friend wants to take matters further with this fella? Like, into the area of actual intercourse?"
The cop flinched and clenched his gloved hands. "Do'y have to use that word?"
"What, intercourse? Okay then, do they want to fuck each other?"
The flinched magnified. "Smartarse. But were I to make a guess I would say yes, that is definitely on the list of things they might want to do."
"Bloody perverts," Max said daringly, grinning. He ignored the narrowed eyes loftily. "Fine, then what about the blow job, was that tried?"
"Not yet. Apparently my friend is a bit uncertain about it. Like, who does it, him or the other fella?"
"There's no hard and fast rule, y'now," Max said, still smiling. "You don't draw up a roster, like, oh, it's your turn to blow me tonight, mate, I did it on Monday. Whoever wants to do it most does it." The smile faded, as Max remembered a lover, long time lost, and young fumblings in dark rooms. "Doin' it for someone important to you, it's special for both the doer and doee. You just take your time, and remember, cock or lips, it's all a part o'someone important to'you." His focus reformed. "I mean him, important to him. But I guarantee ya, done right, it's the first step on a long journey of mattress riding and back-to-the-wall humping."
The copper stared out through the window, eyes staring off to some distant point that Max suspected contained visions of walls, lowered trousers and some fella on his knees. "Hm, well, I'll tell my friend, then." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a fiver. "Bloody rip off artist. Take off."
Max collected his fee and nodded, as he opened the door. "Good luck to your friend, Mr Smith. Tell him – and this is a freebie – not to take the fella fer granted. Good things don't come into yer life often and if you lose it, you never get it back."
He climbed out and watched the Ford drive away.