Disclaimer: I don't own them, or the show they rode in on. I wrote this for fun, and no profit is made from it.
Archive: Starwinder's, You Want Fries With That?, and The All-Ezra FanFic Archive --- all others, please ask.
Summary: Buck and Ezra run a race with a new balance to their lives.
Warnings: Slash content, nothing very explicit
Author's Note: Okay, I couldn't resist - and I don't even know if they still make that type of running shoe (New Balance) but I couldn't think of anything else to call this little PWP.
Completed: 2 March 2004
Feedback: firstname.lastname@example.org welcomes comments
Buck slowed and stopped next to Ezra where he sat hunched over at the side of the trail. At the moment, no other runners were in sight. Standish was desperately kneading at a vicious charley horse in his right calf, the muscle spasm so great that Buck could actually see the muscle twisting and knotting beneath those small, elegant hands.
Wilmington squatted in front of their undercover agent and placed his own large, long fingered hands over Ezra's. "Let me get that, Pard."
Standish nodded with a jerky motion and leaned back, pulling his own hands away. He arched his back and grimaced, lips curled back in pain. Catching himself on splayed hands behind his buttocks, he left the traitorous leg to his friend. "Thank you, Mr. Wilmington. I confess to being a bit out of shape for this run."
"Hell, Ez," Buck murmured, not looking up into the sweaty beautiful face so close, "you've been under for almost a month. Don't imagine you had much chance to get in a run while you were working." He pressed firmly, digging into the muscle and forcing it to relax and stretch. With a smile in his eyes, he glanced up now, hearing a sigh of relief from the smaller man. "Feel better?"
"You have magic fingers, sir." Ezra slumped back down onto the ground, feeling like a puddle of melted wax from the combination of stress, over-exertion, and easement from pain. He stared up at small white puffy clouds drifting slowly overhead in a blue bowl of sky. Buck continued to stroke and massage the errant leg muscle, ensuring that the cramp didn't return, and Ezra enjoyed the feel of those talented, warm digits gently and soothingly touching his skin.
Buck dropped to one knee to ease his own straining leg muscles out of the squat he'd been in. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that another cluster of runners were closing on them, having just appeared around the far bend of the trail. He hadn't run a half-marathon in over a year but JD had convinced him, the whole team in fact, to do it for the charity event. He nodded to Kurt Farnham from Team 3 who loped by among this group of runners.
Kurt slowed and gestured with his chin toward Standish. "Need any help there, Wilmington?"
"Naw, I got it, Kurt, thanks." Buck waved on the offer for help and then smiled when he realized that his 'patient' had drifted off to sleep on the rocky ground. Buck sank back onto the ground and sat there, resting his elbows on bent knees as he surveyed the rapidly disappearing runners. Looked like he and Ezra would be finishing this race late. That didn't bother him at all. He smiled down at the glowing rosy pink and gold skin laid out beside him. Gonna have to chow down later. That brought on a happy squirm.
Ezra snorted and brushed at the feather light touch on his face. Blinking open his eyes, he found himself going nearly cross-eyed staring at the fragile waving wings of a Monarch butterfly perched on his nose. It rose and swirled away and his lazy eyes followed only to find Buck Wilmington seated there, smiling down at him.
"Hey, sleepy. How you feeling?"
There was something so comfortable about the moment that Ezra smiled back and shifted slightly, warm and happy in the sunshine beside Buck. Without thought, he reached out and stroked Buck's nearest leg, a strong section of hairy thigh, a runner's leg muscle groups showing in the gleaming sweat on tanned skin. Fascinated by the feel of rough hair and smooth sculpted leg, Ezra let his hand trail up the long leg to bent knee.
Buck shivered, then captured the roaming hand. "Hey, Pard, you ready to finish this little run?"
"Run?" Ezra answered dreamily, content with his hand within the cup of Buck's.
"Yeah. We still have a couple of k's to do." Buck turned and loafed on one elbow, still toying with Ezra's hand, unable to stop himself from tickling the soft palm.
Ezra raised his chin and gurgled, something between a chuckle and a moan of approval. He rolled over toward Buck and planted a soft, dry kiss on that wonderfully slick hot skin exposed so nicely for him.
"Behave, Ez." Buck straightened his leg away from Ezra's tender mercies and ran his free hand through the soft chestnut curls so close. So pretty.
Green eyes warming with amorous intent, Ezra stretched out a languorous hand to trace the line of Buck's sternum through his cutaway tank top, brushing aside the number tag for the race that hung down Buck's chest.
Biting back a groan, Buck collapsed flat on the ground. The thin nylon runner's shorts billowed briefly before drifting down on his hips, the cup beneath plainly outlined. Ezra grinned and reached out.
"Oh, no, you don't! Chris would have my hide! Travis would hang us both out on the flag pole!" Buck surged up, careful not to push Ezra over as the taller man climbed to his feet over his southern companion. Towering over the recumbent form, Wilmington couldn't suppress an affectionate smile. Damn if Ezra didn't look like a little kitten lying there on the grassy, pebbly bank at the side of the path. Soft, sweet, and cuddly. Buck licked his lips, mouth dry with need at the afterimages of Ezra lying elsewhere, equally soft and cuddly --- and his. Sprawled on their bed --- Buck bit back a groan. Only a few more kilometers.
"Come on, Ez." He leaned down and grabbed hold of one sturdy arm, pulling the man to his feet. Ezra came easily, standing there in the sun, his own runner's shorts leaving little to the imagination, cut high on his hips, his tank top so wet with perspiration that it might have been painted on the man's gorgeous muscled torso. Buck let go, but only with great effort. "Let's finish this and then we can disappear."
Bright green eyes twinkled up at him. "Promise?"
"Hell, Ez, with you looking like this, we might never finish this race if we don't go right now." Buck caught the man's wide shoulders and turned him toward the trail with a small controlled push. "I'll pace you the rest of the way."
"You just want to watch my back." Ezra turned around and trotted backwards with ease.
Buck reached out and twisted the impossible man back around to face forward again. "Damn right, Ez, only it ain't your back I want to watch." And with that and a swat to the sweetest ass in the west, Buck sent his lover ahead of him down the path toward the finish line. They might finish this race, but their own private run through life was only just beginning and Buck looked forward to the next lap tonight. With a grin, he sprinted to keep up with his southerner who had begun to move ahead with a graceful runner's stride.
Numbers 6 and 9 finished the race in that order and then bid their teammates 'adieu,' as Ezra preferred to say. They had other things to do.
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