Eliminate the Negative

By MonaR. (aka Mona Ramsey, aka Mona)

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Bud White [Russell Crowe]/Edmund Exley [Guy Pearce]

Warning: Graphic, consentual rough sex.

Notes: I don't use betas. :( Any mistakes are solely my fault and the fault of my *#^& spellcheck. ** is used for emphasis, // for thought, //// for voice-over. Any weird characters should be hunted down and killed.

Spoilers: Set about eight months after the end of the movie.

Summary: It's Christmas in LA, and Edmund Exley finds himself with a surprise visit from the past.

{It took me a week to finish re-watching this movie - I watched about ten minutes the first four days, but something kept interrupting me. I remembered a lot of slashy stuff surrounding White and Exley, but there was more in the movie that I didn't remember - even beyond the gay blackmail sub-plot, some lines are *very* suggestive. . . This isn't songfic, but I owe a debt to Holly Cole, anyway, for the ideal ambiance.}

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Eliminate the Negative

by MonaR.

The knock at the door was hollow, tentative, like the visitor was half - or more than half - hoping whoever was inside just wouldn't hear it. Edmund Exley waited until it came again to fumble with his glasses on the bedside table and get up. He pulled on the pants that he had just taken off a few hours before, and slid into a shoulder holster. The days when he went anywhere without a piece - especially to answer a door when he wasn't a hundred percent sure who was behind it - were long gone.

The rap sounded one more time, then stopped. Exley paused, his hand on the knob. "Who is it?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

A second passed, and then another. "The ghost of Christmas past," was the answer.

The voice as gruff, dry - just like a ghost's should be. Exley knew who it was in an instant. He waited again, hand still gripping the doorknob so tight he didn't know if he'd ever be able to let go. Plastering a smile on his face to cover his shock, he finally opened the door up.

Bud White stood there in the outside hall, the ghost of a smile on his face, as well - not as broad and shiny as Exley's, but just about as sincere. An ugly, fading scar on his left cheek was the sole reminder of the last time the two had been in such a close company; Exley was startled that he wasn't still swathed in bandages.

"How did you find me?" he finally managed.

"I asked at the department," White said, shrugging.

They stared at each other for a silent minute before Exley stepped back, and said, "Come in." He smiled again. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again - not in Los Angeles, anyway. What happened - Lynn finally come to her senses and throw you out?"

White grinned, this time wider and even more strained than at first, but he came into the apartment. Exley saw for the first time that he was carrying an overnight bag. "Something like that." He shook his head, and added, "No - I had some unfinished business I had to come back for."

"Oh? Anything I can help with?"

"No. It's not with the department, just the hospital."

Exley frowned. "Nothing wrong?"

"Not physically." When Exley still looked puzzled, White added, "It's financial. Seems they're having trouble taking money from me."

"Maybe I can help - "

"No," White said, sharply. "It's just a mix-up. I got it straightened out."

Exley nodded. "You want a drink?"

White looked relieved. "Yeah."

"Have a seat." Exley went for the liquor cabinet. "Scotch okay?"

"Sure." White sat down on the couch, and put the bag beside him on the floor. "Did I get you up? I don't even know what time it is."

"Only about eleven," Exley smiled, and handed him the drink, then sat in the chair opposite the couch. "It's a school night," he said.

"You working tomorrow?"

Exley shook his head. "I'm off. It's a trade for working Friday."

White nodded his head. "Still haven't found the right woman, then?"

Exley stiffened a little, then realized that it wasn't a dig; Friday was Christmas, and it was customary for the single officers to work, and the married - or strongly attached - ones to have the day off to spend with their families. He shrugged, and took a drink. "Don't seem to have the time to look." Another swallow, and the entire thing was gone. He got up to get another.

White hadn't even touched his; he took a swallow when Exley stood up, and then placed his glass on the table in front of him. "I should probably let you get back to bed," he said, standing up.

Bringing the bottle back with him, Exley poured a little more into White's glass and shook his head. "It's not a problem. I wasn't sleeping anyway." He eyed the bag beside White. "You got somewhere to stay tonight?"

"I was going to start driving back tonight," White said, "maybe find a motel somewhere outside of the city."

"The weather isn't the greatest."

"Yeah," White said, looking out the window. "I heard on the radio that they're calling for rain till the day after Christmas."

"It'd be better to go in the morning," Exley said, wondering why he was encouraging the other man to stay, when he obviously wanted to get out of here. "You can stay here," he said. /What are you doing? Shut up./

White looked at him. "With you?"

"I've got a spare," Exley said. "There's another room in the back. It doesn't get much use," he added. "You can take my bed; I'll sleep back there."

"I don't want to put you out."

"It's not a problem," he said. /Shut up, shut up./

White nodded. "That would be good," he said. "It would be better to go in the morning, I guess."

"Good, it's settled." Exley finished off his second drink. "You tired?"

"No."

Exley nodded, a little flushed from the scotch. He sat down again. "So, how's Lynn?"

**********

They talked and listened to the rain outside until the bottle - brand-new that evening - was half gone; a radio played soft, unobtrusive dance music in the background. Exley stopped pouring so fast when he felt like he was in danger of not being able to control his tongue; he stopped talking altogether shortly after that, listening to Bud's anecdotes about life in Arizona - with Lynn - and nodding at encouraging intervals.

He didn't even realize it when Bud stopped talking; the silence lapsed again for a few minutes as he stared out the window, and then swung his head around. Bud looked a little fuzzy to him; he took off his glasses and polished them on the tail of his shirt, hoping that would help.

It did, a little. It took another full minute for him to realize that Bud was looking at him expectantly, however; he'd obviously asked a question, and was waiting for an answer. "What?"

"I asked you why you'd done it," White said, again. "You never did tell me."

Exley frowned, trying to remember what they'd just been talking about. Nothing made sense. "Why I did what?"

Both words were enunciated precisely. "Fucked Lynn."

The question sobered him far more quickly than a cold shower and a pot of coffee could have; it was instantaneous, like a punch in the face. Exley licked his lips, and then shook his head. "I don't know."

White leaned forward. "I think you do."

"Why don't you tell me, then?" Exley said, meeting his eyes evenly.

White was the first to blink. He sat back a little on the couch. "I didn't know, at first," White said. "I thought you did it just to fuck me over - screw with my mind. And then I figured that it was Dudley's doing - to get rid of both of us by putting us at each other's throats."

Exley nodded, silently.

"But that wasn't all of it, was it? Me fucking Lynn - " he couldn't continue, had to back-track " - me falling in love with her, that was the kicker. Nobody expected that, least of all me. You fucking her was more than just part of the plan - although you *did* play right into their hands."

"Who needs a good frame job when you can make one on yourself?" Exley asked.

"I couldn't figure it out. It was too perfect; it didn't make any sense." White looked at him. "And then I talked to Lynn."

Exley raised his glass halfway to his lips before he realized that it was empty. He reached for the bottle.

"She didn't want to talk about it for the longest time, until I was able to convince her that I didn't care anything about her past, and that I wasn't out to kill anyone for what happened - least of all you. I kept pushing her, and finally she told me."

The scotch was starting to burn its way down Exley's throat, edging past his stomach, which was on its way up.

"She told me every detail, everything. The way you smelled, the way you looked - the way you fumbled with the back of her dress." The muscles in White's cheek started to twitch. "And the way that she told you that fucking her wasn't the same thing as fucking me."

It was Vincennes' voice, not Lynn's, that echoed in Exley's mind, something that he hadn't even thought of at the time, but had crawled its way into his psyche, waiting for the right time to pop out, like a goblin at Halloween:

//Just remember, Bud White'll fuck you for this if it takes the rest of his life.//

It wasn't until White smiled at him that he realized that he'd said it out loud. "Me fucking you seems like a popular topic."

"Vincennes," Exley said, in answer to the unasked question.

"And I thought he always figured out things one step too late."

Exley snorted. "Only when it mattered." He stood up. "The bedroom's in there," he said, pointing down the hall. "At the end of the hall. Bathroom's second door on the left."

"Where are you sleeping?"

"I don't think I'll be sleeping, but the guest room is the one on the right; knock if you need anything." He capped the bottle and put it away, set his empty glass on the bar, and, without looking back, said, "Good-night," and walked down the hall to the guest room. His hands were shaking when he closed the door, and he had to lean against it for five minutes before his pulse stopped pounding in his ears.

**********

When the rapping started again, just for a moment Exley thought he'd dreamt the whole thing. But he was under the slightly dusty sheets on the narrow twin bed in the guest room, and he fumbled for a moment in the wrong direction, disoriented, to find his glasses. He didn't bother with either his trousers or the light, this time.

"What do you need?" he asked, when he had the door open.

Bud White stood there in the hallway, shirt open to reveal the white undershirt underneath; except for his shoes, he was fully dressed. He shook his head. "That was my question," he said.

Exley didn't say anything, his hand still on the doorknob. He toyed with the idea of shutting it, locking it, barricading it until Bud White was gone - out of his apartment, out of Los Angeles, out of his life - again. Instead, he leaned forward, rested one hand on Bud's shoulder, and kissed him.

He didn't realize how hard he was pushing until Bud's back hit the opposite wall, but he didn't break the kiss. He tore at the shirt and managed to get it off of him, pulling the undershirt up so his fingers could get at the nipples on Bud's chest. He bent his head and bit and licked at them, frenzied, as Bud pulled the undershirt all the way off. Then he was being propelled down the hallway, towards the bed; he could see light on the periphery of his vision that wasn't overtaken with the sight of skin, lightly dusted with hair. He felt the bed when the backs of his legs hit the mattress and he went down, pulling Bud on top of him. His glasses bounced off the mattress and landed somewhere on the floor. The weight of the other man only served to further arouse him, and he felt as if the skin on his cock was going to split, he was so hard. He couldn't remember ever being so hard before in his life - not even with Lynn.

Bud had one knee between his thighs, rubbing against Exley's groin, and the movement was ripping groans from Exley's throat. For a wild moment he thought that he was going to come like that - still inside his shorts, Bud still more than half dressed - but Bud seemed to realize the danger, as well, and stopped. He stood up, and pulled the belt out of his trousers; Exley leaned back on his elbows and watched the strip show, mouth open, breathing hard.

Bud climbed back on top of him when his trousers and socks were gone; they were both in nothing but underwear. Even ground. They groped each other as they kissed with teeth and lips and tongue, biting and clawing at each other like animals. Finally, Bud gripped both of Exley's wrists in one hand and pulled them up over his head. He held Exley like that as he stripped away the man's shorts with his free hand. It was the first overt show of dominance in the dance that they'd been doing all night, but it was more than enough; Bud flipped Exley easily over on his stomach, and pulled him up on his knees, thrusting a finger inside. Exley moaned, his head resting on his outstretched arms, and waited.

The sensation, when it came, was not gentle; Exley had to bite down very hard on the soft flesh between the thumb and index finger of his right hand to stop himself from screaming. Bud stopped, draped himself over Exley's back, and waited for the signal to continue. They both knew that neither one of them would say or do anything that would mean stop.

Although he didn't think himself capable, Exley relaxed, slowly, his flesh accommodating the large, hard cock inside it, and finally, after a long time, wriggled his assent. Bud pulled himself upright, grabbed Exley's hips for leverage, and started to fuck him, pounding into Exley's body harder and harder as the man underneath him opened more and more, drawing him inside. It was a rough, brutal fuck, hard and mean - the fuck of a man who has never before fucked another man, not because he was afraid he'd like it, but because he was afraid he'd never be able to stop liking it.

Exley's own cock went untouched, so hard it slapped up against his own stomach and then flew back with every thrust Bud made, and left a sticky strand of come there. He didn't need to touch himself, though; when Bud stopped, suddenly, and held himself inside Exley's ass, throbbing, the eruption of come from his cock triggered Exley's, as if the two were connected to each other in some way - like it was Bud's come shooting through Exley's body and out his cock.

They collapsed together on the bed, and lay there, very still, for a very long time.

**********

It was still raining when Exley woke again, for the third time that night. He was on his side, and as his eyes opened he stared right at the profile of Bud, who had his arms crossed underneath his head and was looking up at the ceiling. The light in the room was gray; although he couldn't see the clock from where he lay, Exley guessed it was about four-thirty, or five.

"I've been wondering if I should tell her about this," Bud said, without turning his head. "What do you think?"

Exley shook his head. "I don't know."

"I don't, either," Bud said. "I guess I'll tell her if she asks."

"She won't," Exley said.

"Yeah. I know." He turned his head, and looked beyond Exley and out the window. "It's going to be a Merry Christmas in the City of Angels this year."

Exley snorted. "Isn't it always?"

To his surprise - or maybe to the surprise of both of them - Bud rolled over on top of Exley, again, and kissed him. Unlike the earlier kisses, it was gentle, almost tender. Exley shut his eyes and devoured Bud's mouth, lifting his head up off the bed as Bud pulled away, keeping their lips together till the last possible moment.

"I should get going," Bud said, finally. "It's a long drive."

Exley nodded. He lay there, watching as Bud got up and got dressed. "You should come out and see us sometime," Bud said, as he did up his pants. "The desert air'll do you some good. Look at me," he said, holding his arms open. "I'm a new man."

Exley just smiled.

When he was dressed, Bud sat down on the side of the bed. "I'm glad I came," he said, in the same deep, gruff tones.

"So am I."

"It was good to see you, Exley."

"You, too, White," Exley said.

Bud stood up, took one last look out the window, and left the room. Exley could hear him walk down the hallway, and heard the apartment door as it shut. He rolled over on his stomach and groped around where he thought his glasses had fallen, in the night; when he found them, he put them on, stood up, and wrapped the blanket around him. He went to the window and watched Bud White's car pull away from the front of the building, and kept watching until it disappeared in the early light of dawn.

The End