“Kim! Yo! What’s happenin’?”
“What’s happening is that you’ve been staring at Officer Vicquemare for a while now.”
Turning in his seat, Harry notices Kim has stopped doing his paperwork, pen resting in his hand. Harry had stopped his own work some time ago and Jean, across the office, had been on the phone for a horrifically long time, listening in on a meeting.
“Huh. Have I?”
“Yes, and I find the fact that you haven’t realized it yourself a little concerning.”
“Everyone spaces out, Kim. Can’t help that he was in my line of sight.”
“He isn’t, though.”
“Okay, fine.” Propping his elbows on his desk, Harry puts his chin atop of his fists and stares at Kim, who looks back, unblinking. “Am I in trouble, now?”
“No. I wanted to make sure you were still here.”
“As much as I always am,” he laughs and raises his eyebrows to emphasize he’s never always anywhere. “But I bet you’re curious what I was thinkin’, huh?”
“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me that you were lost in thought. Were you?”
“So you are interested!” Harry smirks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tell yourself whatever you need to, Kim, but curiosity killed the cat or whatever.” Glancing back over his shoulder, Harry finds Jean is still hunched over his desk, receiver tucked in his shoulder, looking like he’s ready to wrap the cord around his neck.
“I was just thinkin’ about Vic’s oral fixation.”
“His oral fixation,” Kim repeats.
“Yeah.” Steepling his fingers together, Harry points them at Kim. “The evidence is all there. You don’t need a detective to notice he’s got something going on.”
“To be honest with you, detective, most of the officers here have something going on. Oral fixations in adults usually show as smoking addictions and alcoholism.”
“But out of the MCU, Jean smokes the most.” Ignoring the alcoholism comment, Harry begins listing off his fingers. “He’s always smoking like it’s a pass-time when he’s bored, and if he’s not smoking he’s chewing gum or those fucking sunflower seeds - did you know he has bags of those in his desk? Bags! I’ve seen him sucking on candy before, too, like those shitty little fruit ones. Sometimes he’ll chew on his nails or pens or whatever the fuck he can get his mouth on. He’s chewed me a new asshole but I think that’s unrelated.”
“Yes,” Kim snorts, “he’s only done that last one metaphorically. And as strong as your evidence may be, I must remind you some of those behaviors are also common in people with depression and anxiety.”
“Perhaps Vicquemare simply has a subconscious habit, or he’s making an effort to smoke less and is satisfying his cravings through candy and seeds.”
“I still suspect there’s something deeper going on there.”
“I am not a psychologist, detective, and neither are you. I don’t believe this discovery is worthy of distracting yourself from work. This may just be one of those things you have to accept at its face value and move on.”
“But I can’t do that, Kim! It’s physically impossible for me. I’ll die.”
“Well.” With a small smile, Kim turns back to his paperwork, touching the tip of his pen to the sheet before adding, “then die.”
“Harsh!” Harry hisses through his teeth, then glances back to Jean and watches as the younger officer picks up a pen and gnaws on the cap, nodding along to the conversation even though no one can see him.
“I need a smoke,” Jean announces after hanging up his receiver before deciding to leave it off the hook to avoid further phone calls.
“Not like you just had half a pack at your desk,” Chester calls out, to which Jean flips him off.
“Now’s my chance,” Harry whispers to Kim as he stands up and pushes his chair in, then gives himself a thumbs-up for motivation while Kim watches, facial expression remaining blank.
“Look at that - they’re still inseparable!” Mack heckles them as Harry follows Jean to the break room.
“What the fuck are you here for?” Jean grumbles with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, long legs carrying him down the hall.
“Having a smoke.”
“No, no. You clearly followed me out for something. I’m in a bad fucking mood from that call and don’t want to deal with your shit.” Pushing open the door with his hip, Jean blows out his smoke into the stale air before heading closer to the window, pulling it open. “But, since you didn’t bother me during, you get one question. And I mean that.” Holding up his index finger, he jabs it towards Harry. “One. Fucking. Question.”
“Do you have an oral fixation?”
Exhaling through his nose, Jean squints his eyes and stares.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“An oral fixation.”
“I heard you. What makes you think that?”
“C’mon, man. You’re exhibiting classic fixation symptoms.”
“Oh, great, are you here to psychoanalyze me? Tell me my smoking habits are related to childhood trauma or that I’m a closeted homo-sexual who really wishes I could be sucking cock instead of these puny little cigarettes?”
“Well I didn’t say any of that.” Pausing, Harry presses his shoulder against the wall and crosses his arms. “Are you a closeted homo-sexual who wishes he could be sucking cock?”
“No to the homo-sexual part, or—”
“No as in I’m not going to fucking discuss my dick sucking habits with you.”
“So you do—”
“Harry. If you really want to play this game, there’s a lot of shit I can say about you.” Tapping his ash off, Jean stares out the window. “Half the shit you don’t remember, anyway.”
“Yeah? Hit me. Psychoanalyze the shit out of me, I don’t care.”
“When you used to get fucked up - and I mean really fucked up - you always liked to piss yourself. If you couldn’t embarrass yourself any further with the drink or drugs you would make a show about it. It was intentional, too, not some drunken accident. No, you liked the mess and the humiliation. You got off on it, if anything.” Taking another pull from his cigarette, Jean acts like he was reading off his grocery list and not airing out Harry’s dirty laundry.
“What the fuck,” he says aloud, furrowing his eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. It was fucking weird. Glad you stopped doing it.”
“At least I wasn’t a dick sucker.”
“Yes, because that’s so much more demeaning than pissing yourself,” Jean rolls his eyes. “Happy you followed me out here, now?”
“Actually, I am. I like learning about who I was - even the bad stuff.”
“Oh, great. I could write a whole goddamn book about you.”
“... Did I ever blow you?”
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Harry looks down at the floor and purses his lips in thought.
“... Did you ever blow me?”
“You paused. Holy shit—”
“That’s it, no more questions. Goodbye.” Flicking his cigarette out the window, Jean turns to leave when Harry grabs his elbow.
“Wait. One more, then I’m done.”
“No. You’ve already exceeded my Harry bullshit meter today - for the week, actually.”
“I promise, last question. Jean.”
Shaking his arm free, Jean crosses them across his chest and glares. “Fine.”
“Did I ever pee on you?”
“Oh my fucking God, Harry.”
“Just answer the question!”
“Accidentally? Once, yes, because you were piss fucking drunk and completely missed the goddamn urinal and got it all over my leg.”
“And on purpose?”
“No. It was just that one time. On accident.” Walking out of the break room, Jean returns to his desk while Harry stands in contemplative silence for a while before eventually meandering back to Kim.
“And?” Kim asks, taking off his glasses to clean. “Was your deduction correct?”
“I think I need to do more rigorous self-critique and apologize to Vic.”
Both men turn to look at the officer in question, who has pulled open a drawer in his desk and poured a handful of seeds into his palm, working them one at a time. When he notices he’s being studied, he dumps the rest in his mouth and hunches himself over his desk, not looking their way.
“Let me guess: you asked him a question point-blank, he returned it by revealing something in your past, and now you’re both in worse moods?”
Harry gasps. “Kim, I didn’t know you had supranatural abilities!”
“I don’t, nor was I eavesdropping.”
“Then how’d you know?”
“That seems to be the trend in your conversations with Officer Vicquemare.”
“Hmph.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry taps his finger against his bicep in thought. Kim doesn’t follow the movement. “I still need to think about what he said.”
“You can do that after you finish your paperwork. Save your thought projects until after hours, please.”
“It’s already in motion, but I’ll try.”
Kim nods in appreciation and the two return to their tedious desk work.
“Harry.” Jean’s presence looms over the Lieutenant’s desk, standing straight with his hands at his sides.
“Woah, hey! Don’t sneak up on me like that, you’ll give me a goddamn heart attack.”
“I need to speak to you.” Grey eyes flicker over to Lieutenant Kitsuragi, who watches the interaction silently. “Alone,” he emphasizes.
“Alright, alright. We’ll be right back, Kim.” With a click of his tongue and a wink, Harry departs from his desk and follows Jean out of the office and around the bend.
Pushing open the escape door, Jean leads the two of them to a small landing, reserved for smokers and the occasional officer who needs a moment of isolation before going postal.
“What’s up, man?” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Harry leans against the wall and tries to act casual, though he’s failing under Jean’s stare.
“Why did you bring that up earlier.” Not a question.
“While you were on that call you kept smoking or chewing on shit and it made me realize how often you do that.”
“Why mention the dick sucking?” He asks, voice more sharp.
“You brought it up first, with the repression thing.”
“No, no. I’m talking about you asking me out of fucking nowhere if you’ve ever given me a blowjob.”
“Ohhh, right. That.” Harry blinks, then frowns. “Did that upset you? Sorry.”
A moment of silence passes. Harry shifts uncomfortably under Jean’s gaze.
“No,” Jean finally says. “You never gave me head.”
“But you blew me?”
“Yes. And you’re going to let me do it again.”
“I’m going to get on my knees and suck your dick.”
Jean doesn’t know how to ask for something he wants; laying it out is his way of asking.
After a bit of hesitation, Harry leans more of his weight against the wall behind him and pulls his shirt from its tuck when Jean slaps his hand away.
“No, let me.”
“Bossy,” Harry says under his breath, but gives Jean complete control.
The younger officer does as he said - gets down on his knees in this tucked away balcony and works Harry’s belt and fly like he’s fishing himself out. Practiced, precise, muscle memory.
Only pulling Harry’s dick out from the flap in his briefs, Jean takes the flaccid penis in his mouth and starts working his tongue.
Under his ministrations, Harry starts to get hard. Jean keeps his mouth as far in as he can manage, and when he pulls off Harry is completely erect, giving out a weak throb. It was almost like a magic trick with how quickly Jean worked him up. From the floor, he certainly seems to agree, looking at his masterpiece before him.
With no fanfare he gets back to it, lapping at the underside of the head that makes Harry suck in his breath.
“Mm, Jean—” somewhat awkwardly, a pair of hands rests atop of Jean’s head, tufts of black hair peeking through his thick fingers.
“If you’re going to touch my head,” Jean says, wiping his mouth off with the back of his wrist, “the least you can do is pull my hair.”
Grey eyes stare harshly at Harry. “Do you want your dick sucked or not?”
In response, Harry combs his fingertips through before grabbing two fistfuls of hair, causing Jean to moan loudly. In order to silence himself, Jean busies his mouth again, drool leaving a damp spot as it trails down the veiny shaft.
“Fuck.” Using Jean’s hair as a grip, Harry begins to roll his hips, Jean opening his throat with a low moan. “You are good at this.”
Looking up, Jean tries to glare at Harry, but his eyes are framed by his long lashes and his lips are wet, stretched around a cock and Harry almost loses it there.
“Oh, God, don’t look at me like that.”
With a defiant gleam in his eyes, Jean forcibly makes eye contact with Harry, who reaches down and begins jerking himself off, mouth hanging open.
A pair of hands shoot out and pin Harry’s hips against the brick wall, holding him still while he can only pump his shaft. Loosening his jaw, Jean keeps his tongue along the underside of Harry’s engorged head, giving him a wet heat to rub against, occasionally angling himself too high and scraping against Jean’s front teeth, making Harry hiss.
“Fuck, fuck, Jean, you’re gonna make me cum, oh shit—” only able to get that warning out, Harry clenches his teeth and tries to keep his moans quiet as he shoots into Jean’s waiting mouth.
Pushing forward, Jean takes Harry’s still twitching cock into his mouth, cum still pooled on his tongue.
“Ohhh fuck. Fuck!” Writhing against the brick, Harry can push out of Jean’s grasp but finds himself enjoying the feeling of being trapped.
After a moment it does become too much and Harry has to pull Jean off by his hair, flaccid dick slipping out from his lips. Swallowing the saliva mixture, Jean wipes his mouth off on his hand and neatly fixes Harry’s pants and belt, standing up and pats down his own pockets, as if checking if he’s misplaced anything, then steps aside and reaches for the door.
“Hey, wait,” Harry reaches his hand out. “Do you want me to—”
“No. I’m going to jerk off in the bathroom and return to work. I suggest you get back to your desk as well.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Uh, thanks for that.”
Turning the handle, Jean pulls the door open half an inch before looking back over his shoulder.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions anymore.”
“You got it.” Giving Jean a two-finger salute, Harry takes a moment to collect himself before heading inside, taking his seat beside Kim at his desk.
“How did that go?” Kim asks, not looking up from his report but definitely interested in why Harry had been gone so long. “Did you two talk things out?”
“Something like that. I think I should give up my psychoanalyzing hobby - I’m not very good at it.”
“I see.” An odd expression crosses Kim’s face for a split second before returning to his usual, professionally trained one.
Jean returns shortly after Harry, sipping from a cup of coffee constantly, as if to keep himself busy. After briefly glancing over, Kim decides not to mention that both men have their shirts untucked under their blazers and a suspiciously matching set of ruffled hair from Jean and a conspicuous damp spot around Harry’s zipper. Kim turns back to his paperwork and tries not to show his smirk.