Author: Saydria Wolfe
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters: Always-a-dude JJ Jareau, Steve McGarrett, Tony DiNozzo
Prompt: Rule 63!
Word Count: 1489
Warning: No beta
Note: So. I wrote this based off my headcanons about JJ, then I read up on her in Wiki and realised I have a huge geographical mistake in my conception of JJ. I tried re-writing this closer to canon but Trey ended up being basically a whitewashed Derek Morgan and that was boring and pointless so we’re sticking with Plan A.
Summary: A lecture at Georgetown changes Trey’s life.
Trey does not sigh as a big familiar body plops down into the seat next to him. He doesn’t, but he comes damn near close. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Went looking for my favorite drinking buddy only to find out he left base for some university lecture by a cop!” Steve throws an obnoxious arm across his shoulders as if there is any doubt who the drinking buddy in question might be. “The hell are you doing here?”
“Evading some asshole that technically outranks me. I thought you were allergic to classrooms.”
“Classrooms, sure but not co-eds. Figure I can brave one and use the other to keep a buddy from making the biggest mistake of his life. Come on, what’s going on here?”
“Not everyone wants to give their life to the Navy, Steven.”
“That may be true, Justin, but those people don’t become SEALs. You’d give that up to become a cop? Really?”
Trey gives him the look that deserves and sits back in his chair, facing front. There’s a line of people waiting to ask Special Agent Rossi questions and he’s giving them five minutes apiece but Trey is just watching the crowd, mostly just getting an eye on possible competition-
“Well, what do we have here?” Steve purrs almost gleefully as the other thing Trey was watching steps forward to address Rossi. Trey ignores the idiot.
The man is about 6 feet tall with a solid, athletic build, gravity-defying golden brown hair and -once he removes his glasses, Trey can see- bright green eyes. Target is ridiculously attractive. And he’s pretty sure Target and Rossi know each other, what with the smiles and the hugs and the back-slapping. There’s teasing, too. They go well over Rossi’s regimented five minutes, laughing the whole time.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asks his best friend the nuisance-n-chief.
Steve just smirks at him and clutches his hands behind his head, “I’m good.” His eyes still avidly on Target, goddammit.
Rossi gets them moving again before the grumbles get too pronounced. “Well, when you see the light make sure you call me. The USS FBI has plenty of room when you finally decide to jump ship.” Target laughs again and leaves with a brand new copy of Rossi’s latest book, signed right then and there, with a card slid inside like a bookmark.
It is, of course, too much to hope for that Steven will fuck off when he goes to approach the guy. Nope, Steve is right there, being the biggest cockblock on the planet. He tugs Trey back so he can’t meet the guy in any safe, sane place like at the top of the lecture hall or in a well-lit corridor.
No, they tail the guy who is obviously law enforcement. Because that’s smart.
“I got this,” Steve assures him as they follow Target around a corner right on the edge of the campus.
Steve don’t got this. Target is nowhere in sight. It’s well after dark but the campus is still wide awake and there are people walking around. It’s winter so everyone with sense is bundled up, making it harder to positively identify individuals.
“Something I can help you with, fellas?”
They turn to see Target smiling at them with a 9 mil in hand.
Trey rubs the vein above his left eyebrow, “Still got this, Smooth Dog?”
Target’s smile grows, “Smooth Dog?”
He’s laughing at them. Of course he’s laughing at them. Two fucking SEALs that got dropped on by a goddamn LEO. Who wouldn’t be laughing at them?
Steve, of course, smiles all big and innocent and extends a hand, “Lieutenant Steve McGarrett, U.S. Navy.”
Target just looks at it, looks at Steve, looks back at the hand, and flicks unimpressed eyes over to Trey.
“Lieutenant Justin Jareau,” He introduces himself without prompting. “Navy.”
“Supervisory Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS.”
This just keeps getting better and better. Trey glares at Steve.
Fucking Steve though just doesn’t even care. “So you’d know a good place to eat around here. Trey and I just shipped in and aren’t very familiar with the area.”
“Really.” Trey has never heard that much jaded disbelief in one word before. It’s truly impressive.
“I just wanted to ask you out to dinner,” He answers those eyes when they flick back to him.
A quick eye roll and DiNozzo pulls a phone out of his breast pocket. He hits a few keys quickly and competently even left handed. He sighs expansively as he puts it away. “I’m feeling wings on, uh, Smooth Dog, was it?”
“I’ll get you all the chicken you want.” Steve answers in a tone that should only be used to proper innuendo but never is when he’s around. “But you gotta convince my friend to stay in the Navy, you owe it to me.”
“I don’t owe you a damn thing,” DiNozzo laughs in his face. “Unless you’d rather I report your stalking of a federal agent?”
“Looks like you’re getting off pretty easy,” Trey assures his best friend as he moves up beside DiNozzo, “Which way?”
DiNozzo checks his watch but doesn’t put his firearm away. Probably smart. “Rickie’s Bar is probably our best bet this late.
“So you thinking about law enforcement?”
“Yeah,” Trey nods, making sure to keep his hands in plain view. “I want to help people. Not that I don’t in the Navy, but-” Trey huffs, not really sure how to put it.
“You want roots. Makes sense, you are getting older.”
Trey look sup at the Agent sharply. The man is smiling, teasing. He puts up his firearm when the Bar’s doorman is in sight and they walk in like a group of friends.
“Tony! I thought you finished your classes.” The waitress obviously knows him. She just looks over Trey and Steve with a lascivious smile that would turn him off even if he was inclined toward females. “You always have the prettiest company. The usual?”
“Eh, let them look at the menus. We’re probably going to be here a while.”
She raises both eyebrows at DiNozzo but it’s Steve that answers her as he climbs onto the tall chair. “We’re arguing over my friend’s life choices.”
The woman sensibly takes their drink orders and scurries as DiNozzo turns on McGarrett. “And what’s wrong with being a cop?”
“My dad was a cop when he got out of the Navy. The one bit of career advice he gave me? ‘Don’t be a cop.’ I think that says everything that anyone might need to know.”
“So what are you going to do when you get out of the Navy?”
“I’m not getting out of the Navy,” Steve looks at their new friend like he’s crazy.
DiNozzo huffs and focuses on Trey. “Law Enforcement wasn’t my plan either but I wouldn’t give it up now. Putting the bad guy away? Helping victims and their families gain closure? There’s nothing quite like it. Especially doing for service-people that already give so much to our country. But if you aren’t sure, you can always do a ride-along or something. Tour the FBI Academy, maybe.”
“Or I could just talk to you.” Trey smiles his flirtatious best. DiNozzo is made of some pretty stern stuff because he just laughs and nods. “Tell me about your most interesting case.”
“Okay, so a few months ago they found a dead Marine in a coffin from the Civil War at the Smithsonian.” And what follows is a ridiculous story dealing with an honest-to-god treasure map and a rogue group of grave robbers. Then there’s a story about a Petty Officer gunned down while driving with a side of mistaken identity. And then–
Chairs are going up onto table tops around the bar when Tony asks, casual as can be, “So which one of you is taking me home?” The agent sips his beer. “Or is this a both kind of thing?”
Trey looks over to Steve. They’ve shared bottoms in the past -like a lot- but that wasn’t really his intention.
Steve shrugs and leans back, letting Trey know he’ll back off if Trey wants him to, no hard feelings. Trey rubs his thumb along his chin, considering. Just because they do it this once doesn’t mean- Well, alright.
“Both is good.”
Trey huffs under his breath as Steve abandons the morning after for a run.
They did some pretty kinky stuff last night and Tony needs someone to watch out for him until at least noon. That’s just basic courtesy and responsibility, but then again Steve wouldn’t know courtesy if it came up and frisked him. And responsibility in Steve-land deals strictly with bullets and explosives.
There’s a reason Trey’s never bottomed for the bastard.
Trey shifts until Tony is more firmly secured on his chest. The other man curls more firmly into him and this? This feels like home.
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