Warning: Slash like whoa, with a little bit of angst.

Authors: Pirate Hatter and murderofonerose

Words: 3417

Disclaimer: It would be nice to make money from this, but we don't...

Beta'd by HouseKeeper13.

It's hard work being a dirty little secret, but Hooper's such a little trooper.

Part II

Hooper hummed cheerfully as he maneuvered his boat up to the dock. He'd bought the little trawler about a year ago and christened it the Orca II – sentimental, but Brody had insisted on it. And helped him finish off the celebratory champagne, too.

Out the port-side window, Hooper could see Brody standing and waving on the dock, and grinned and waved back. The humming turned to quiet singing as he went about his captaining business (which he was, in his own mind at least, infinitely better at than Quint).

"Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed…"

"Had a little drink about an hour ago and it's gone to my head," Brody finished for him and walked up closer to the boat. He was still… hesitant about the water. Nothing that good had happened to him in the water. First there was the possibility of drowning, then the whole shark incident… so he felt that he had every right to be wary of the ocean, sea, sailing, whatever, even if Hooper continued to disagree with that sentiment.

Gone right to my head, Hooper thought, but he was in too high spirits to correct him even to salvage the rhythm of the tune. He leaned over the side of the boat with a smirk.

"Hey, 'fraidy-cat, ready for your monthly swim?" he asked with a snicker.

Hooper always made a point of finding some excuse to toss Brody overboard at least once a visit. Usually the excuse was, 'Because it's faster than a shower.' That or, 'Even more bracing that coffee! What a way to start the day, huh?' (Though the real reason was probably more along the lines of, 'You've gotta learn how to swim properly sometime, and you look really good when you're all wet.')

Brody stopped smiling and gave Hooper a very dead-pan stare. He pocketed his hands while looking at Hooper in a 'I will kill you or at least punish you in a very elaborate way' kind of way.

Hooper waggled his eyebrows, and was about to point out that there was pretty much nothing Brody could do to him that he wouldn't in some way enjoy when he realized that they weren't alone.

"Er, hi Ellen," he said. "Hi kids."

"You're going out there again?" Ellen asked Brody as she walked up balancing Sean on her hip and Michael walked along next to her. Brody smiled and ran his hand over Sean's hair.

"Yeah. Hooper's dead set on making me love the ocean."

"But you're the chief of police, Martin," Ellen shifted Sean around a bit and hugged him closer.

Brody smiled reassuringly and kissed her forehead. "We have a radio on board and I've told the boys down at the office to give us a shout if anything goes wrong. But this is Amity, not New York. I'm sure it'll survive without me for a couple days."

"How long will you be gone, Dad?" Michael asked, squinting up at Brody through the bright sunshine.

"No more than four days," Brody told him, kneeling to give him a hug. "Promise."

"Okay," Michael said, but seemed to be speaking for Ellen. Brody stood again and kissed her, this time on the cheek. "No more than four days."

"All right." Ellen finally smiled. "Bye, Martin, and have fun. Bye, Hooper. Make sure he doesn't drown for me."

"Bye U'cle Hoop'r." Sean waved awkwardly and hid his face against his mother's shoulder, shy even though Hooper had been a family friend for some time now.

Hooper chuckled under his breath, because it was damn adorable.

"Bye kiddo. Tell you what, we'll bring you guys back some fish for dinner, okay? Fish about the size of my hand," he added quickly before Ellen could say anything, "but lots of 'em." He gave Brody a hand as the police chief clambered up onto the boat with a small duffle bag.

"All right. Be safe, you two." Ellen waved them off as the boat began to drift from the dock and out to sea, not looking quite as panicked as she had when they'd set out for the shark. It probably helped that the Orca II looked a lot less rickety than its namesake.

Michael just watched them leave and Sean waved again at his departing father and "u'cle".

Brody watched the dock disappear, smiling a bit and then turned to watched waves in front of him. And then the nausea set in, as it always did about ten minutes into the trip. He leaned over the side of the deck and nearly vomited, but didn't (though he almost wished he had, so his stomach could stop churning).

"I'm impressed, sir," Hooper called teasingly from his place at the helm, "by your complete inability to keep your sea legs. There's some brandy in the galley, might help you settle your stomach… but it's good stuff, so don't spill too much of it."

Brody, while still leaning over the side retching, shot Hooper a very rude hand gesture to sum up his current feeling for putting anything new in his stomach.

Hooper laughed as he navigated them out of the harbor and out into open waters, which were a bit choppier. That was most likely the problem, but Brody would adjust to it quickly. He was like that. A few more minutes and he'd be as comfortable as he ever would be on a boat.

The minutes passed, the retching stopped, and Brody laid down on his back on one of the benches built into the side. He had covered his eyes with his arm and was clearly enjoying the late July sun shining down on him. Within five minutes he managed a light doze.

This was the life. Hooper relished the free openness of it, the salt breeze in his face as he steered. Every few minutes he glanced over at Brody and the grin on his face widened a little bit.

"Wherever I may roam, by land or sea or foam, you will always hear me singing this song…"

"Doesn't th'sea already have foam?" Brody mumbled, not moving much besides that. His voice was thick with sleep and the hopes of staying that way for at least another five minutes. "It's redundant."

"Lots of things have foam," Hooper protested. "Beer. Champagne. Sparkling cider. Bubble baths…"

"You travel by bubble baths?" Brody rolled onto his side and let his arm hang off the bench. His eyes were still closed and his glasses were in his other hand, so as far as he was concerned he was still asleep.

"Yes," Hooper replied, deadpan. "All the time."

Brody laughed and finally opened his eyes, though not too quickly. The light hurt his eyes a little bit, and he knew he'd have to wake up at some point anyway, but he felt comfortable where he was. Like sleeping on a couch or something, like the way people feel on Sunday afternoons.

Hooper cut the engine and strolled over. "Hey there sleeping beauty," he said with a smirk. "Ready for some fishing?"

"As long as I don't have to chum anything, yeah." Brody yawned a small yawn and sat up slowly, wishing to return to his sunshine slumber. But he could bet his badge that Hooper wouldn't let him do that, and would most likely bother him for a straight hour if he tried.

"Chum no, but it wouldn't hurt to be friendly," Hooper said with a laugh, then leaned down and kissed him.

Brody kissed him back, and pulled away after a moment. "They're going to expect fish, you know."

"And that," Hooper replied, "is why we'll be doing some fishing. Later." He sat down on the bench next to the older man. "We've got four whole days. I have plenty of food on board, so we don't have to fish for ourselves, and whatever we take back should be good and fresh."

"You've thought of everything. Hope a shark doesn't come along and start ramming the boat," Brody snarked, glancing out to the horizon.

Hooper shook his head. "Nah, I spend most of my free time tagging all the sharks in this area. If one comes by, we'll know about it before it even figures out we're here."

Brody laughed and frowned mock-severely at him. "I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"And I love to keep you guessing," Hooper shot back, hooking his fingers on Brody's belt loops. "Care to guess what I've done with the color scheme in the sleeping cabin?"

"By your clothing choices? Denim blue," Brody quipped, allowing the man to tug on the belt loops all he wanted but not actually moving or helping in any sort of way.

Hooper tugged, accomplished nothing, pouted, and tugged again. "Don't you want to see it?" he asked.

"Is it really that interesting?"

"The mattress is," Hooper said brightly. "I got a new one."

"Oh, well by all means, let's see this special new mattress." Brody stood and swayed slightly from the rocking of the deck, but managed to stay upright.

Hooper put an arm around him to make sure he didn't fall over. "I bought it especially for you," he said, pressing a kiss to Brody's neck. "It should be a lot better on your back."

"On my back, eh?" Brody raised both eyebrows and made his way to the small trap door that led to the sleeping cabin.

Stooping to get the door for him, Hooper paused and took a moment to pat Brody fondly on the ass. "Yep. You're getting to be an old man, I gotta take good care of you."

"I oughta wring your neck for that…" Brody jostled him so they could both be slightly dizzy. "I'm not even forty yet."

"That's still old!" Hooper insisted, laughing. "I asked your kids once, and even they said so."

"You're on the right track to being thrown overboard," Brody warned him and climbed inside the room. It honestly didn't look much different than any other time he'd been in here, but he was starting to suspect Hooper hadn't really made any improvements at all.

"Mutiny!" Hooper barked. He crawled into the narrow cabin behind Brody and pushed him onto the bed. "I will not tolerate mutiny aboard my ship!"


Brody hit the bed hard, almost cracking on the boards underneath. He sat up, about to snap out an angry protest, but Hooper just crawled on top of him and straddled his hips. Brody didn't feel like being (very) angry anymore.

"Hi," Hooper whispered huskily and kissed along Brody's jaw. When he reached his ear he added, "Missed you."

"I can tell," Brody responded quietly, voice growing thick with lust already. His hands moved to the hem of Hooper's shirt, untucking it from his jeans and pushing underneath to feel his warm skin.

"Thank god you could get away for half a week this time. I think I'd go crazy if this was just another half-day thing…"

Hooper made quick work of Brody's shirt and threw it off to the side. He slid his fingers briefly over taut skin, then leaned down and nipped sloppily at Brody's collarbone. They'd been taking these trips long enough to come to an agreement: more than a couple of days, and Hooper could use teeth on the first day out. Any marks that hadn't completely faded by the end of the trip could be written off as "fishing accidents", with no one the wiser.

Brody fisted a hand in Hooper's curly hair and tilted his head back with a soft gasp. Hooper's mouth was all over his chest; nipping at his neck, kissing his chest, even sucking briefly on his nipples, and all of it was driving him crazy.

He had to admit, when it came to foreplay not many could best Matt Hooper. Brody felt his jeans becoming far too tight on him already and, with little thought, decided they had to go. Immediately.

"Not yet," Hooper panted, batting Brody's hands away from his belt. "Not yet, or I'll play the Girl from Ipanema in fart noises on your belly."

"God you're weird." Brody rolled his eyes and removed his glasses, placing them on a short desk near the bed. His hands, now not allowed to remove his jeans (which were annoying tight), disappeared under Hooper's shirt again, giving him a thorough feel-up.

Hooper smirked. "Hey, good idea. Get mine too, would you?"

"Too busy to do it yourself? Boy, you are rich and spoiled," Brody said with a smirk and removed Hooper's thick, round glasses, also placing them on the short end table.

"I am too busy," Hooper replied, massaging Brody through his jeans, "because I am otherwise occupied. Got complaints? Write a letter."

Brody, instead of sniping at him, groaned loudly and relaxed into the bed. His hips bucked and twitched against Hooper's hand, and god did the man know how to handle it. "H-Hooper," Brody panted when he found his voice again.

With a little growl, Hooper slid down and latched onto the denim right above Brody's buttoned fly with his teeth, just barely grazing skin. He jerked his head to undo the button and went for the zipper, breathing heavily and knowing Brody would feel it. Stunned and aroused, Brody watched as Hooper proceeded to pull the jeans down with his mouth alone.

That obviously didn't get very far, but that didn't make it any less impressive. When the jeans had been wrestled down past his hips, Brody grabbed Hooper by his shirt (which had no reason to still be on) and pulled him in for a hard, reckless kiss that was just a bit too much teeth and fumbling, but that was quickly corrected.

Hooper broke away a little to soon for Brody's liking, laughing breathlessly. Bet your wife's never done anything like that, he didn't say. If he had, Brody probably would have pushed him out of bed or something, impressive or no, but he hadn't so he didn't.

Instead, Brody pushed Hooper's shirt up, up, and over his head, then attached his mouth to Hooper's neck like a leech and kissed it with the knowledge any mark he made would fade by the end of four days.

Not that Hooper would be going back to anyone who would look hard enough to notice.

"Where do you want me?" Hooper asked with a slow grin.

Brody sat up at this point, still kissing Hooper's neck, and held him close. "Right here's fine," he said, a little muffled.

Fingers sliding into Brody's hair, Hooper tilted his head back and pressed into the kiss. "Here? Just like this? Clothes and everything?" he teased, settling a little more snugly into Brody's lap.

"Taking your pants off would be helpful," Brody said with a shrug and kissed below Hooper's ear. His hands moved down to Hooper's hips and undid the front of his jeans.

"Mm." Hooper leaned back, enjoying himself, until Brody's fingers slipped inside his (silk, expensive) boxers. Then he murmured, "Grab on," and slid back right out of his jeans and underwear like an escape artist performing a trick, perfect and elegant like he hadn't practiced it at all.

The articles of clothing were tossed aside (Brody's too, when they got him out of the rest of them) and Brody pulled Hooper back down for another frantic, passionate kiss. One hand buried itself in Hooper's hair, while the other took hold of Hooper's hip, keeping Brody very much in control of the situation.

Lube and a condom were produced, the latter because Hooper never had bothered to correct Brody's assumption that he still slept around and needed to play it safe. Brody took them both, and moments later the condom was on and Hooper was being prepared teasingly slowly – something Brody had learned quite a bit more about since their first night on the beach. He ignored Hooper's whining because it was good to get the snarky younger man in a state of submission every once in a while, and, anyway, Brody figured he was doing him a favor by teaching him to beg.

Also, it was kind of amusing.

"Come on," Hooper whined, squirming and sinking down on Brody's fingers as far as the older man would let him. "You've got to, I need, I've been waiting for a fucking month, Martin, please…"

Brody smiled with the satisfaction that he got Hooper to call him by his first name. All right, he was ready enough… after a few more "accidental" rubs against his prostate. Because Brody adored the face that he made when he did that, and during coitus he couldn't pause and appreciate that properly. But Hooper started to make that pitiful whining noise he made when he was too far gone for words, and Brody decided that was enough.

The fingers were removed, a bit more lube was added, and he let Hooper push down onto him at his own pace. Hooper bit his lip with a groan and leaned his forehead against Brody's as he eased down slowly, breathing in short, quick breaths as he stretched and adjusted.

He slid all the way down, paused to catch his breath, and touched his lips lightly, pleadingly, to Brody's. This was what he secretly lived for, this feeling of being claimed – by something other than his work or his own hand.

Brody pushed his lips against Hooper's. It wasn't a kiss. It was just there. As Hooper settled more comfortably onto him, they both stayed still, trying to breathe, trying to focus, trying to just get their bearings enough so they could have an amazing ride.

Then Brody's hand came up to the back of Hooper's head and he finally started to kiss him.

For a moment Hooper just kissed back. Then he began to rock slowly.

Brody groaned and deepened the kiss, taking Hooper's lower lip into his mouth. They moved together, rocking like the tide that rocked the boat, and the only real sound that could be heard was the sound of their breaths; short, slow, and straining to get more.

Then, just like a wave against the prow, Hooper pulled back, hovered for a second, and crashed forward, rolling his hips insistently. Brody groaned and thrusted up into Hooper, driving himself deeper in. The pace grew more powerful and demanding, a sudden storm at sea.

Hooper closed his eyes and got lost in the movement, in the feeling, in the touch of Brody's fingers curled at the base of his spine as if to anchor him.

He didn't really want to be anchored, didn't want it to end; he didn't want to be pulled back to reality, the fact that they had so little time they could afford to spend with each other. So he almost didn't notice when he came (except of course he did), but he felt every one of Brody's shudders and knew, with a bittersweet rush, that the storm was dying down again.

Brody sighed as his climax ended and relaxed into the mattress, letting Hooper stay where he was for however long he liked. The gentle rocking of the ship almost lulled Brody into sleep, but he kept himself awake to watch Hooper… whatever he did.

Hooper didn't move at first. He stayed sitting up, staring, apparently, at nothing in particular, as he tried to catch his breath. When he finally did, he looked at Brody as if he'd lost him for a bit and then suddenly found him again.

"I," he said softly, and then stopped.

He lifted himself carefully and collapsed in slow motion onto the bed next to Brody.

"I'm tired," he mumbled, fitting himself snuggly against the older man's side.

"Me too," Brody said quietly, pressing a kiss to Hooper's curly, curly head. He pulled the covers over them and pulled Hooper closer to his side. "Maybe in a little while we can do some real fishing …"

"No," Hooper said quickly. "I mean— Can we stay here for today? Like this?"

"All right," Brody laughed and kissed his forehead. He turned on his side and pressed his forehead to Hooper's. "We can stay like this."


Hooper reached down under the covers and retrieved the condom, tied it off, and dropped it into a trash can placed conveniently by the bed for precisely that reason.

He snuggled back in. "Good." I love you.

He didn't say out loud.

Readers, reviewers, voice your opinions. What would happen if Ellen found out about this? Should she? Or would her husband, or Hooper, break first and spill the beans? Once enough votes are in another part of this story might follow.