Title: Vacancy Author: elise2 Email: mciac@livejournal.com Rating: R Summary: Through 1x08 Attachment. Character Pairing: Creegan/Rivers Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. Author’s Note: This follows my previous Creegan/Rivers ficlet A Thousand Deaths, also written for nova88 because we're the only two active Creegan/Rivers shippers on the planet. In the previous ficlet, they got a drink. This is post-drink, them doing exactly what boys do. Posted: 12/23/2004
	An unfinished jigsaw puzzle, Rivers thought. That's what Creegan was, and not one whose pieces snapped neatly into place. No, he was the puzzle you found half-done on your grandma's coffee table, whose scattered bits didn't quite add up to the picture on the box. Musings, however, were of little value now. Seven drinks later and three sheets to the wind, it didn't matter whether Creegan was a puzzle, an enigma, or merely a man. Rivers was up to his calves in rain water, but a light in the distance urged him onward. "Vacancy," it blinked. "The owner has a dryer," Creegan claimed, sloshing ahead. "He lets me wash my clothes, and I keep the peace." * * * He clutched the doorknob much in the way he'd clutched his bourbon in the bar--fingers tense and chilled. The weaving stroll from the bar to Creegan's hotel room had been filled with wonders--clouds that redefined blue (midnight, not aqua), puddles that begged to be jumped, even a ditch masquerading as a puddle, much to their drunken chagrin. Turning the key, he let himself in while Creegan went to negotiate with the management. Dryers were loud, and their request would require finesse. He tried to approach the room as he might a crime scene, wondering what the evidence would say about the man, but the mirror stopped him cold. It was the focal point of the room, he rationalized, but it wasn't his own reflection that drew him in. Staring at Creegan's collage, he searched the photographs for signs, telltale or otherwise. He knew that he hadn't rejected his family overnight any more than his brother had become a junkie in a day. Still, judging from the story these faces told, it seemed as if sending them away had been a split-second decision, a coin tossed in the air while someone innocently called 'heads'. He was fingering the fuzzy edge of Holly's photo when Creegan's voice leapt out at him. "Are you looking at my photos?" Like that of a sly ventriloquist, it sent a nervous jolt up his spine. Rivers jerked his hand away. "No--" he said as he spun around, but the clunk of a buckle hitting the ground silenced him. Creegan had stripped down to his boxers; his pants now pooled at his feet. "Be assured," Creegan began, "that a walk through the ocean of most souls would scarcely get your feet wet." His eyes traveled the length of Rivers's pants until both men's lips had curled. "So are you ready to dry off?" -fin-
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