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Crossing Jordan

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Title: The Bet  

Author/pseudonym: Tinnean  

Fandom: Crossing Jordan  

Pairing: Bug Vijayaraghavensatyanaryanamurth/Woody Hoyt  

Rating: PG  

Disclaimer: They belong to Tim Kring. I'm not doing any harm, honest.  

Status: new/complete  

Date: 4/04  

Series/Sequel: I won't say 'no', but at this point nothing is planned.

Summary: Bug makes a little bet with himself.  

Warnings: m/m, spoilers for All The News Fit to Print, and vague spoilers for Season 1. This is just a drabble. Sorry.  

Notes: Jim Phelps is the Peter Graves character from the TV version of Mission : Impossible. Thanks to James for his help on that one. The sexual harassment/wrestling lines are from the episode. For Gail, who did a marvelous beta, as usual, with many thanks. She was the one who got me to watch Crossing Jordan for The Four Fathers episode in Season 1.


The Bet

Part 1/1


Bug was in the habit of making little bets with himself. The thing was, no matter how they turned out, he won. He made sure to set them up that way.  

If Jordan comes in today, she'll piss Garret off.  

And of course she did. On any day ending in *y*, it was a sure-fire guarantee.  

If Nigel sees a warm body, male or female, he'll make a pass at it.  

Bug knew that it was never his body Nigel made the pass at, which was fine. Snarky, snippy medical examiners with aspirations of becoming Jim Phelps weren't his type.  

If Lily…  

Well, he didn't want to consider his aborted affair with the grief counselor. She'd been coming off her own aborted affair with Garret Macy, the chief M.E., and it had come to nothing. Just good friends, wasn't that the phrase?  

And then someone new arrived on the scene.  

Bug looked at Woody Hoyt, the corn-bred detective from Wisconsin , and quietly lusted after the body that was hidden by the uninspired, off-the-rack suits he wore.  

And he made a little bet.  

If I ever see Woody Hoyt's naked chest, I'm going to kiss him.  

He knew he would never win this particular bet. There was no way Woody would strip down in front of him. He was a straight, white bread boy.  

And then the call came in for a DOS, dead on the scene. Normally, Jordan would take the call, but she was out of town. Devan Maguire was the new kid on the block, and Macy had yet to send her out on a pick-up. Peter Winslow was busy with his microscope.  

Process of elimination. Bug was sent.  

It was raining. Raining, hell. The skies had opened up, and if it continued at that rate much longer, they'd need to see about building an ark.  

Woody was already there.  

They walked down the street, avoiding puddles where they could, to where the body lay. Male, severely beaten, cause of death two gunshots to the chest. Lividity not fixed. He'd bled out on the scene, marking that the spot where he'd actually been killed.  

Bug decided to dazzle Woody with a show of his brilliance.  

"He's a reporter."  

"How can you tell?"  

"Calluses on the fingertips, recorder with a missing tape, and of course," he held up a piece of plastic, "his press pass says so."  

Woody gave him a look, a 'You so had me going there, and I will find a way to pay you back for that!' look, and Bug's imagination took him to the two of them in bed, and Woody making him pay by driving him to the brink of orgasm and keeping him hovering there, and if uniformed cops hadn't been securing the scene, Bug assured himself that bet or no bet, he'd have had no choice but to lay a lip lock on the detective.  


Gordon Tolliver, reporter for a sleazy tabloid, had been doing an expose on a call-girl ring that was fronted by a modeling agency. According to his source, a sixteen-year-old girl he referred to as 'Natasha', the underage girls serviced Boston's upper crust.  

Now he was dead. Had he died protecting his source?  

Bug pulled the second of the two slugs from his chest. "Amateurish," he said, referring to the shooter.  

Woody regarded him thoughtfully. "I need you, Bug." 

Bug's head whipped around, but Woody didn't notice. 

"Tolliver's laptop. The files are password locked. Since Nigel isn't here, do you think you could..." 

"Yeah, Woody, of course. I'll help."


"This is my office."  

Bug looked around. Typical Boston PD detective's office, nothing to write home about really. Even if it was Woody's office. 

"Here's the laptop. I have to run that partial plate," someone had broken into Tolliver's apartment and managed to elude them; while Bug watched, helpless, from the fire escape, Woody had been able to scribble a letter and a couple of numbers on his palm, "check some things out, but I'll be back as soon as I can." 

"Don't rush on my account." 

He stared at the door as it closed behind that ass, sighed, and sat down in front of the laptop. 

Bug was attempting, without much luck, to find the password to Tolliver's laptop files. "I'm not Nigel," he groused to himself.  

The door to the office opened, and as he glanced up, Woody walked in, stripping off his jacket, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his white shirt, and yanking it and his tie off over his head.  

Woody didn't wear undershirts.  

Bug couldn't tear his eyes from the smooth, tanned, toned expanse of muscle. He couldn't help but notice that chest was covered by a light dusting of hair the same shade of brown as the hair on Woody's head.  


"You obviously didn't go to the sexual harassment seminar." Bug pretended to be concentrating on the letters he was keying into the laptop. 'Authorization denied,' it informed him yet again.  


"Yeah, I did." Woody bent over to open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a clean shirt that was still buttoned. It was grey, and Bug also couldn't help but notice how it brought out the blue of Woody's eyes. "That's why I'm not asking you to wrestle."  


Dumfounded, he remembered his bet with himself. If he ever saw Woody's naked chest…  

As if sleepwalking, Bug rose from his chair. Before Woody could get the shirt over his head, Bug slid a hand around his neck and pulled his face down for that anticipated, that dreaded first kiss.  

At first Woody's response was… well… wooden, and Bug was in despair. He'd not only blown a budding friendship, but a comfortable working relationship.  

But then Woody uttered a soft moan, wrapped his arms around Bug, and his kiss became ravenous.  

And Bug knew that this time he'd really come up a winner.