A Fight I'm Going To Win
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG (but really Eclipse - this universe took a turn a while back and has its own life, thank you very much *g*)
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clark finds out what Clay's doing behind his back and makes it his business to stop Clay. Clark Palmer's side of Fight.
Eclipse Snapshot #34.
Disclaimer: I don't own Clark Palmer, Clayton Webb, or Harmon Rabb. Any other characters in this story are mine. I make no profit off this story either.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
Warnings: It's the Eclipse universe, so if you hate Clark Palmer, you probably don't want to read this. Also, if you haven't read the previous Eclipse stories and Snapshots, this story won't make a hell of a lot of sense, so you might want to do that first.
For Page as a late birthday present (6/18/04), for my dearest Tinnean for our fourth anniversary (8/8/04), also late, and for Beth on her birthday (8/14/04). Many thanks to Tinnean who encouraged, brainstormed, supported, and beta'd, with thanks to Scarlet and Mandy for their support too.
*****
"Mr. Palmer."
I was going to leave the coffee room - after all, I have my coffee and I've got work to do - but instead I lean against the counter and glance at Ms. Carlson, who's getting herself some afternoon coffee in her mug with all the flowers on it. Gaudy, but cute. I like her. She was one of the first people to treat me like a person and not a fucking enemy. She's all worried now. Wonder what's wrong.
I take a sip of my coffee in the big mug Clay got me. Black coffee in a black mug. I like black. I don't have to wash it so much, and it doesn't piss me off with bright colors when I'm not in the mood for them. "Hey. What's up?"
No one else is in the coffee room, but she still whispers. "I thought you'd want to know Mr. Kent met with Mr. Webb this morning." She gulps. "They talked about you."
Kent's involved in handing out assignments. What the hell was Clay doing talking with him about me?
She's got big, round eyes - scared or worried, maybe both. "And Mr. Kent threw him out of his office after only three minutes and said he'd rot in hell before he'd send you anywhere but the basement."
Or the morgue, probably. Kent and a hell of a lot of other CIA jerks would love to see me there. I take a deep breath. First thing, thank her. She's done a good thing here. "Thank you very much." I'll send flowers, a nice big bunch of them. White roses. Wait, what does she like? I'm too pissed to remember now, but I've got her info on file. I'll check and send her the kind she likes.
"I thought you'd want to know."
"Yes. Thank you." I said that already, right? I can't think straight. I have to get to my office. Hate it there, but I can think. "Excuse me." I manage a smile, and she smiles back.
All right. I straighten and head out of the coffee room and down the hall to my office and when I get there, shut the door behind me and lean against it.
Has Clay lost his fucking mind? What the hell is he doing, going hat in hand to the CIA assholes about me?
I make myself sip some coffee and think. All right, he's doing this. No, not all right. He's going to fuck up his career and I won't let him do that. I'll leave the fucking CIA before I'll let him do that.
First, I've got to let him know that I know and tell him to stop it.
*****
I get to Clay's office, check with his secretary to see if he's got anything in the next half-hour, and when she says he doesn't, tell her I'm going in and not to buzz him even though I know she's supposed to. She doesn't argue or say anything more than, "Yes, Mr. Palmer." That's not her style. I must look as pissed off as I feel. Better send her flowers too.
I make a note to do that and twist the doorknob to Clay's office. He's frowning at something on his desk. Oh, no, Clay, I'm here now. You pay attention to me.
I push the door shut. It slams as I take my position right in front of his desk, and he looks up with surprise on his face. What the hell is he surprised about? Oh, right, because I just showed up when he was working. Too fucking bad. I'm not waiting to talk about this until later. This is my life he's fucking with too. He's not getting out of this.
"Have you lost your fucking mind?" He has, I'm sure of that, but maybe saying it out loud will bring him back to his senses.
He gives me his polite look. Goddamn him. I deserve better than that. "If there's something you'd like to discuss with me, I'll be happy to listen."
He *has* lost his fucking mind if he thinks he can play me like this. "Yeah, I'd like to discuss this with you. You didn't think I'd find out? I'm not stupid, Webb. I may be working for the fucking CIA, but I'm not stupid." He'd better get that straight now.
He gets to his feet, cool as a fucking cucumber. Right, he's the boss. Not of me, not now. "If you'd tell me what you've found out, I'd appreciate it."
He thinks he can play me. I'll stop that now.
"Sure thing, Mr. Webb." He says one word about addressing him wrong and I'll throw him against the wall. Maybe if I did that I'd get some kind of reaction out of him, but he doesn't and I don't. Not safe here anyway. "I found out you've been running around trying to get those assholes who run this stupid shit agency to let me back in the field." He's still giving me that cool look and I get even more pissed off and slam my left fist on his desk. He blinks at that. Gee, finally a decent reaction. "Are you trying to get fired?"
He shakes his head. Yeah, Clay, I *knew* that, but I want you to see what you're doing. "I'm trying to get you what you want."
What fucking right does he have to go around me and assume he knows what I want? I know what I want, and I'll get it - my own way. "By destroying yourself? You think I want that?" What's wrong with him? He's not stupid, but he's acting stupider than Rabb even.
"You want to be back in the field, and I'm not destroying myself."
"Bullshit. This place is full of assholes who'd love to see you fuck up."
He shakes his head and smiles, and I really want to hit him now. Clay isn't this dumb. Maybe he wants me in the field to get rid of me. No, that doesn't make sense. If Clay wanted me gone he'd say so.
"I don't want to talk to you. I'm ending this now."
I get out of his office as fast as I can and head to mine, grab a piece of paper, start writing my resignation, then tear it up, stuff the pieces in my pocket, and start it on the computer instead. Don't want anyone seeing how shaky my handwriting is.
I type my resignation, print it out, sign it, and fold it. I'm slipping it into the envelope with his name and title printed out on the front when the phone rings. Got to be Clay. He won't like me walking out on him.
"Palmer."
"Clark, what are you going to do?"
Maybe I should go to his place and check the water. He really is acting stupid. What else would I do but resign? "It's done, and it's none of your fucking business."
I hang up. Time to get out of here. I know him. He'll come after me and while I'd love to beat the shit out of him or better yet, fuck the stupid out of him, here isn't the place to do either. The CIA fucks may not like him, but they'll take his side against mine any day of the week and twice on Sundays.
I seal the envelope and leave it where he'll find it right away. He won't like it, but he'll put it through the system. That's the kind of man he is.
I stash the couple of things I'd miss if I didn't have them in a plastic bag and leave the door open when I go. It'll be easier for Clay that way, and it's not my office to worry about any more anyway.
*****
I go right home, change, pour myself a scotch, and tell myself to relax. I've done what I needed to do. Tomorrow I'll figure out what to do next, make some calls.
Wonder if Clay'll come over. I mean, he will sooner or later, but will he come tonight? Almost hope he doesn't. I'm too pissed off.
He doesn't get it. He just doesn't fucking get it. Yeah, I want to get the fuck away from a desk and out where I can do what I do best, but on my merits, not him running around promising his life away to those assholes. If I don't get to, I don't get to. I'll handle it, dammit. I'll find a way. I'm no weakling, and I don't need him to act like I am. Who does he think I am, Rabb?
I gulp my scotch, then get up from the couch. I want to get drunk, but it's a bad idea. If Clay does come over I don't want to be drunk. He'll want me back in the fucking CIA and he's a sneaky shit. He'll do whatever it takes to get me back there, but he's in for a surprise. I won't go back there.
Maybe if he gets that he fucked up and makes me believe he means it I'll go back.
Like I wouldn't. Not going to help to lie to myself. Not much chance he'll get it though if he hasn't yet, but damned if I won't try to get him to if he comes here.
I hope he doesn't come here tonight. I'm too close to losing it. Dammit, we were partners. Partners don't fuck each other over like that. No one in the DSD would have dared fuck with me. No one.
No more DSD, so what does it matter?
Fuck this. I'm gonna get drunk and go to bed and tomorrow I'll call him and give him the right kind of shit until he comes to me or I go to him. We'll work this out. Clayton Webb is mine, and I'm not giving him up even if he is a fucking CIA guy.
I take another sip. I should have thrown Clay against the wall of his office instead of talking to him, pinned him there and kissed him and gotten him so hot all he could think about was how much he needed me, then given him what he needed and fucked him and when he was fucked out, made him send a message to Kent taking back his request about me and to anyone else he'd talked to. Yeah, that would have been something. And it would have been me using him, and I gave that up a hell of a long time ago. Can't go back now.
My glass is empty, so I take it into the kitchen to refill it, but before I can the doorbell rings. Odds are it's Clay. Hell, who the hell else is it going to be? No one else would just stop by.
I look through the peephole. Yeah, it's Clay, and he's wearing the leather jacket I got him years ago and carrying pizza - from the smell of it, pepperoni and sausage and peppers and onions and maybe bacon. I open the door and sniff again. There's bacon on one of those pizzas.
He smiles, and I think about taking the pizzas, putting them down, and doing that pinning and kissing and fucking thing I was thinking about just a few minutes ago. What the hell. We can fight later. I'll have a better chance of winning if he's wiped, and I can wipe him out, no problem.
But if he thinks he can get to me with leather and pizza and sex and get me to forget what an asshole he was, he can fucking forget it.
"Hello, Clark."
Right. Here we go. He got my letter. I can tell from his voice. Too controlled, too much work to make it sound normal. "Taking a second job? Not a bad idea." If he wasn't so damned honorable he'd leave the fucking CIA too, but he is and he won't. The gibe ought to get to him. I need to get to him. This is a fight I'm going to win.
"I thought I had a second job here, as your houseboy."
Damn him. Now I really want to grab him and fuck him, and I can't because he'll win if I do. "Those were the days." That should show him that I'm serious about this if he hasn't already gotten it. But he has. Why else would he be here with pizza and leather?
He blinks. Looks like he doesn't like that I said that. Too bad. I'm not on your side any more, Clay. I'm on my own. Get used to it.
"May I come in?"
Yeah, Clay, I opened the door to you so that I could slam it in your face. Sure you can come in. I nod.
"Those for me?" Not the smoothest I've ever been, but it should give him the right idea - that I haven't been waiting around for him.
"Yes. I'd like to talk with you."
I got that already. "About what?"
He frowns. Yeah, he really doesn't like me like this. "About my actions that led to your resignation."
"What's to talk about? You made up your mind, you did what you did, I did what I did. It's over." I know what he'll say to that.
"It's not over." Right on cue, that's my Clay. Damn, can't think like that now. I'm not giving in. He's wrong and I'm right and he's going to get that through his thick head.
I take a couple of steps back so that he can come in - don't really want to have any more of this conversation in the hall where someone could hear - and he hands me the pizza boxes. Sneaky. He knows I love pizza.
I get into the kitchen with them, open the top box, sniff, then grab a piece and stuff it into my mouth. Oh yeah. Yeah. That's pizza, all the toppings I smelled on it and lots of them. Clay knows what I love. I check the other box and it's the same. I close the boxes, promise myself I'll have some more later, either after Clay's gone or after he's admitted he's wrong, wipe my mouth on the dishtowel, pour some more scotch into my glass, and go back into the living room.
He's standing there, lost in thought, and I'm tempted to walk over to him and kiss him before he can say anything, stupid or smart, but he comes out of his haze and focuses on me. Just as well. We'll have this out. I lift my glass in a mock-toast and take a big sip, then walk to the couch and sit down. He doesn't move. Right. He's waiting to be invited. "Well, sit if you're staying."
His lips tighten, and I wonder if he's going to take off after all - I didn't bother to sound like I wanted him to stay - but he sits, not by me, but at the far end of the couch. Nice to see that he's paying attention.
"I got your letter."
Direct. Nice. I down some more scotch. "Good. How fast will I be free of the fucking CIA?" Nice thought. No more assholes giving me wary looks, a chance to make a life for myself. Maybe I can talk Clay into leaving too. We'd make a hell of a team.
"That's not an option for you."
"What the fuck?" I *resigned*. I left a letter and everything... and no one else knows about it and no one else will. That's pretty fucking clear from the smug look he's giving me. Should have figured he'd play rough if he felt he had to. His honor only goes so far.
"Your resignation is not accepted."
Damn this *relief* I feel. He still wants me there, with him. But he doesn't get that yet. I'm still pissed off at him. He hasn't won and he's not going to.
"You fuck." That should hurt. I want to hurt him. He hurt me.
He smiles. "Yes. It took you long enough to figure that out though, didn't it?"
Damn him! I stand up - he stands too - and get in front of him. "We were partners, dammit. You had no right to go the fuck off and - " He's not listening to me, and he's got that look in his eyes. Somehow he's back to remembering that idiot Stoner. Ah hell. I hate when he does that. Stoner had to die. He wasn't even up to CIA standards. He's better off dead but Clay'll never get that.
"Clay?" Dammit, stop thinking about that idiot.
He blinks again and he's back. About fucking time. "You were saying?"
That's right. You listen to me, Clay. "I was saying I thought we were partners. Partners tell each other what they're doing. You just up and decided to fuck over your career without a word to me, your partner, and you don't do that."
"I didn't fuck over my career."
Dammit, won't he ever get it? "You don't get it. Get out of here." I turn away from him, but he gets his hand on my arm, and I stop.
"Don't turn away from me." Fierce and pissed off. Like he has a reason to be. He fucked me over.
"Right, you're the boss, and you can do anything. Well, not here, Webb. Get out, unless you're desperate to get fucked. Is that it? You're here to get my cock in your ass? Well, too bad, I'm not in the mood. Go find someone else."
Let's see how he takes that one. That should hurt.
"Like Harm?"
He's smiling like he wants to go after Rabb, but he's only saying that to get to me. Nice move, but not nice enough.
"Yeah, go find him. He must be desperate for you now."
"No. I'm staying here until I get you to see sense."
What the fuck? He still thinks he's right and I'm wrong. "You mean, you see things your way. Fuck that." I yank my arm away from him. "Get. Out."
But he doesn't go. Nothing new there. He sits down and looks at me as though he's the fucking king of the world. "No. You're welcome to make me try, though."
"You - " Dammit. I'm not going to tell him that he drives me crazy. "You want me to throw you out? Fine, I'll throw you out."
I get him up and am about to drag him to the door when he pulls the simplest damned trick in the book on me - catches me off-balance and pulls me down on the couch on top of him, then gives me a smug smile, damn him.
"What the fuck do you think - "
His lips take mine as his arms get me in a tight grip. Playing the sex card. Doesn't he know me better than that?
I don't kiss him back, and as soon as his grip lessens I twist out of it. His eyes show his confusion. Clay, for god's sake, sex won't fix this. It'd be fun and I'm tempted, but not now. "I'm pissed at you. Sex won't get me to forget that. So let go of me and stop trying."
He lets go of me and I stand up and go over to my drink and down it while studying him. He's not smug any more. He's confused and tired. Dammit, why the hell can't he just *get* this? No reason we need to fight. He's wrong, I'm right, let's get it over with so we can eat pizza and fuck. But I can't say that because if I do, he'll take the easy way out and say he's wrong but not get that he's wrong. Then it'll happen all over again next time he gets it into his head to "help" me, only worse.
He takes a breath and, should have known it, tries something else. "I have news, if you're interested."
"I'm not." But I am interested. I'm always interested in Clay, like I told him back when he wanted to have Rabb's ass so bad he came *this* close to making a deal with me to get it. He got it anyway because I'm a nice guy and it suited my plans and Rabb wanted him like nobody's business but mine.
He's close to smiling. I can see stuff like that. I know him. "You're cleared to go back in the field. Tomorrow you'll get an assignment."
Like that makes it all better. No, Clay, it doesn't and I'm going to make sure you know that, now. I put down my glass without slamming it, which takes some effort. "You don't get it, do you? You put your career at risk for me. I don't find that acceptable even though you did get what you wanted."
What you wanted, Clay, not what I wanted. What did he promise them in exchange for this? Who will I have to kill to get him free? Or blackmail or fuck with? Damn him. I was fine working in an office, for him. I *was* fine. So I hated it. What did that matter as long as I had him and some kind of work I was good at and enough money to have fun when I wanted to?
He frowns. Maybe *now* he's getting it.
"And you didn't talk to me about it." That really fucking hurt. "You should have. You were fucking with my life too." I fold my arms and wait for him to get it. He's smart. He'd damned well better get after I spelled it all out, but if he doesn't we'll go through it again and again until he does.
He blinks, sighs, and, finally, nods. "You're right. I should have talked to you first."
*Finally.* "Yeah. So how'd you get the assholes to give me clearance?" I'll have to get more info - I'm not sure he'll tell me the whole truth - but I can do that. Ms. Carlson will help, and Ms. Lane and Mrs. Blanchard and Ms. Tyver. I've got some friends there.
He smiles, and he's got that damned twinkle in his eyes that makes me want to kiss him. Sneaky bastard. "They didn't like the idea of you out on the loose."
Well, yeah. That's a given. "That's all it took?" Of course that's not, but I'll play along. He said I was right.
He doesn't say anything. Got it, Clay. You don't want to lie but you don't want to tell me what you gave up to them. Fine. I'll deal with that later and you won't have to kowtow to those fucks either. Count on that.
"Wow. They're dumber than I thought." He'll buy me saying that for sure.
He almost laughs. Good. I like him happy. "So you'll come back?"
Now that's interesting. I have a choice? Well, yeah, I do. I could force the issue and resign for good - but I won't. If he's not leaving, I'm not leaving either, as long as he doesn't pull this kind of shit again.
"Yeah. Sure. But you won't fucking do that again." Get it out in the open. He won't want that, but too bad.
"I'll say I'm sorry for going behind your back if you'll say you're sorry for blowing up at me." He gives me one of his confident looks, but fuck that. No way, Clay. I'm not sorry for a damned thing I did, and if you think I'm going to say so, your head's up your ass.
I give him my best cool look. "I won't."
He smiles and shakes his head. Yeah, thought he was testing me. Good call. "Very well. I am sorry." And when he says that his lips tighten and I know he means it.
He got the message. Now we're fine again.
"Shut up. It's done. Want some pizza?" I could eat, and he probably could too. Why else did he bring two pizzas?
"I'd like that."
But when he says that and smiles, I get another whiff of that leather he's still wearing, the leather jacket I gave him. That gets my cock hard and I don't give a damn about eating. I want him, any way and every way I can get him. The pizza can wait.
From the way he's breathing and his pants are bulging, he could go for bed before food too. But I don't want him to fuck me tonight. I want to fuck him. He's mine, and I want to show him that again. Now to convince him of that. Shouldn't be hard, and it will be fun. Clay wants me, and if I tell him what I want he'll do it.
"Then we can fuck." So damned much *need* in my voice. I'd be pissed off at myself if I didn't know Clay liked and responded to that, every time. He still needs to know that I need *him*, and I sure as hell do.
His cheeks are flushed, and he's got that gleam in his eyes. Yeah, he'll whimper and beg for more while I fuck him. He wants me inside him as much as I want to be there.
He comes toward me and puts his hand against my cheek. "I'm not that hungry, Clark. Are you?"
He doesn't have to ask. He knows the answer, but I give him what he wants to hear, and the truth. "Hell, no. Come on."
He takes his hand away and I grab it, then pull him out of the living room into the hall and shove him against the bare wall.
He doesn't fight me, and when I press against him, I feel why. He's as hard as I feel. I get my leg between his and rub, and he moans and presses back. I like hearing him moan, but he wanted kissing before, so I take his mouth this time.
The kissing isn't enough soon, not when we've still got all these damned clothes on and he's moving against me so desperately, needing more, so I pull my mouth away.
"Bedroom, Clay."
"I was headed there, but you decided to throw me against the wall." He's laughing, and I can't help laughing too even though what I want is to get him stripped and fuck him until he doesn't have any more words. "Impatient, Clark. I wouldn't have thought that of you."
"Yeah, right." He knows me better than that. I'm patient when I have to be, but I want what I want when I want it. Like him, come to think of it. "Come *on*."
"Yes, Clark." He's still laughing at me, but I don't mind. He'll be moaning again soon enough.
We get to the bedroom and I push him on the bed. "You wore that jacket to get to me, didn't you?" I push it open and rub my hands over his chest. "Didn't you? And those pants." Old chinos, soft and worn and clinging to that ass of his.
"Yes." He's not laughing now. He's staring right at me. "I had to get to you."
I want to tell him to shut up - this is more serious than I want to get - so I kiss him again and shut him up that way. When he's pushing up against me and kissing me as hard as I'm kissing him, I make myself stop. I want a hell of a lot more than kissing.
"I'm going to fuck you." I hold his eyes with mine and undo the first buttons of his shirt.
He nods and a shudder runs through his body.
"Good." I lick my lips and roll off him. "Get undressed."
I get out of my clothes quicker than he does, but I get to watch him while I'm lying on the bed, waiting for him, and he's not that much slower than me for once.
I like when he's this hot.
He comes back to the bed and sits down. I pull him down so that he's lying next to me and start kissing him again. It's better, skin on skin. My cock brushes his and he pulls his mouth away from mine and moans so loudly that I know it's time for more.
So I twist around and take his cock in my mouth, sucking on him until he's so close to coming that another couple of moments would do it.
"Clark." His eyes are closed, and he's shaking. I smile. Yeah. My Clay, and he wants me. "Now. Please fuck me now."
"You got it."
He rolls over and pushes himself up onto his hands and knees and spreads his legs, and looks so hot that I'm not sure I can keep myself from coming. I'm pretty damned close too. But I grab a condom, tear it open, roll it on, put on lube, then squeeze more out and put it on him. He's still shaking, and the desperate sounds coming out of his mouth make me want to hurry, but I don't. I want him, I want him so damned much, but I'm not going to hurt him.
Finally he's lubed up enough and more than that, and I position myself and push. He moans and tightens around me, and it's all I can do to keep enough control to keep easing in and not just thrust.
"Mine. Mine." He knows that, but I have to say it anyway.
His body shudders. "Yes."
I lean over and kiss the back of his neck. He wants more and harder. I know he does.
So I give it to him - hard, sure thrusts over and over and over, and somehow get my hand on his cock so that he can come too.
It doesn't get any better than this.
*****
I pull out and make sure he's all right. He is, so I go to the bathroom, clean off, and bring back a washcloth to clean him off too since he's too wiped to move.
When I'm almost through, he gets enough energy to look at me, smile, and speak.
"You should be my houseboy."
I shrug. Yeah, it's a fun game, and yeah, I'll play it if he wants, but not now. I'm tired, and yeah, still pissed off at him. Not much, but some. I'll be fine in the morning, but that's then and this is now. I need sleep.
I go back to the bathroom, rinse out the washcloth, hang it over the shower curtain railing, then go back to him. He's half-asleep, and I can't help grinning at the sight of him in my bed.
Guess I'm not as mad as I thought. He's cute, he's here, and he's mine. Sure, he screwed up, and I know I'll have to do some work to get everything fixed, but I can do that for him, for us.
Back in the field. He wouldn't lie to me about that.
Think about it in the morning.
I slide into bed, making sure I don't let out too much warmth when I lift the covers, and Clay gets right up against my back. Damn, that feels good. I could go right to sleep.
Something I have to do before sleep, though - say something about the houseboy thing.
"I'll take turns if you will." It'll be fun.
"Fine." He sounds so damned happy. "I'm sure we can work that out."
Yeah, we can do that.
He gets even closer to me and I sigh. "I like you warm against my back." He knows that, but who cares? I wanted to say and I did.
"I'll remember that." He's even more happy now. Yeah. That's how it should be - both of us happy.
After a few deep breaths I ask the big one. I'm pretty sure I know the answer, but might as well have it out now.
"Gonna come with me when I get my mission?" The fucking CIA wouldn't let me out before now and Clay's the one who got them to give me the go-ahead, so they're either sending me with him or with someone else and if it's someone else, I'm going to have to watch my back for the knife he'll have waiting for me. Hope I won't have to. Clay and I are partners; he should go with me.
"Yes."
Damned if he doesn't sound even happier now. He *wants* to go with me.
"Good. We'll show them how it's done." Oh, yeah. The fucking CIA ain't seen nothing like *us*.
I lie there, Clay warm against me, thinking of how great it's going to be to do what I do best and do it with Clay and how pissed off the CIA assholes will be when we get whatever this mission is done better and faster than any of them could. Then I remember the pizza. Shit. Can't leave it out all night. I like cold pizza for breakfast. Good with black coffee.
Clay's fast asleep, so I ease out from under him, walk softly to the kitchen, shove the pizza boxes into the fridge, and slip back into bed with him. He mutters something and tightens his grip on me. Not going to be able to get out now.
I fall asleep, smiling about that.
The End
Posted 8/14/04
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