And here it is! An incredibly pointless chapter after a long ass wait for an update. =]

"Sex relaxes you, doesn't it?" the brunet breathed, allowing his rapidly beating heart to subside as he flopped down onto the soft, springy mattress, arms hugging his lean body.

Raising an eyebrow, Carter looked to the man resting beside him and shifted slightly. "What? You didn't realise?" His voice dripping with sarcasm although laced with amusement.

"No officer, I didn't," Norman teased, punching his beau playfully.

"Then we obviously don't belong together," the lieutenant joked, "give me my ring back."


Grunting, Carter rolled the ivory sheets down and swung his newly tanned legs to his side of the low bed, stretching his large arms before standing up. Norman bit his lip and gazed at his husband's naked form before looking away quickly in embarrassment. 'If Carter ever caught me staring, he'll never let me forget.' But he couldn't help himself as he once more began to drink in Blake's appearance; from his bronzed, sculptured back to his defined thighs and calves. Despite the slight beer belly, the man still looked damn good for his age and Norman couldn't help but admire that chiseled backside as Carter padded over to his black suitcase and bent down, retrieving a few papers from a manila folder.

"Those better not be case files," Norman called softly, smiling when he heard Carter snort loudly.

"Listen, I'm not you. I don't work on honeymoons." And he slipped back into bed, close enough to brush a shoulder against the Bostonian. Sighing happily, Norman remembered the day he vowed to bed a police officer. He was nineteen, on a field trip in Paris and upon exiting the train at Gare de Lyon station he saw a group of policemen - muscular, authoritative and downright sexy; their dark hair and cream coloured skin drove him wild. Maybe it was the guns they carried so freely or their obviously toned bodies beneath their navy uniform that made him determined to fuck one. He didn't know, and he didn't particularly care, but what he did know was that he managed to fulfil his sexual dream, and even marry one. He couldn't believe his luck.

"What're you smiling about?" interrupting his reverie, Carter seemed engrossed in the papers and, having found a red pen, was circling words on the sheets.

"Nothing," Norman frowned and sat up, leaning his back against the cool pine headboard. "What are you looking at?"

"Houses," Blake replied nonchalantly, "for us." And, smiling, Carter looked affectionately into Norman's grey eyes. "I like this one, four bedrooms and a large-ish garden near Embassy Row. It's decently furnished by the looks of it and we could renovate it if we wanted to."

Grimacing lightly, Norman took the paper from Carter's hand and analysed it quickly. Sure, it's large, in a nice area and has a south facing garden but it wasn't what he wanted. "I'd prefer to stay in Capitol Hill," he murmured.

"I thought we'd discussed this, Norm," Carter's lips had settled into a subtle thin line, "didn't we both agree just last week that this neighbourhood would be better for our future family?"

Christ; there was that word again, 'family.' A concept so beautiful and awe-inspiring it made Norman bristle. His straight nose flared in strong disgust as he digested the word, 'I'm not good enough for family; hell, what kid would love a drug taking, abused, hallucinator who works too damn much and is rarely at home?' "You and me are a family, Carter, we don't need to add to it. I think we should just keep the flat we already have in Capitol Hill." Ignoring Blake's agitated scowl, Norman turned to face the glass doors and fell into deep thought, mentally harming himself for already breaking his resolution.

"Don't bullshit me, Norman. You were the one who brought kids up in the first fucking place, and now you want to backtrack? Well guess what Norm, I want them, and I'm not getting any damn younger," Carter spat.

"Sorry," Norman mumbled in a thick accent, "I guess I've just changed my mind." 'As you usually do when you see sense,' the brunet scolded himself.

"Just changed your mind? You don't just change your mind as flippantly as that!" And, exhaling loudly, Blake continued softly, "you always do this, tiger, you always say you want more one minute and then completely disregard it the next. You've got to tell me why," Carter entreated, grasping Norman's warm hand. Norman felt his blood heat gently upon hearing his husband's nickname for him; he usually only heard it when the older man wanted it rough and hard in the bedroom... or the kitchen, or shower. Turning his head back to stare into blue eyes, Norman ran his other hand through his rumpled hair and sighed.

"I just.. changed my mind," he smiled falsely, moving closer to snuggle against Carter, "thought about it... the money, the time, the effort, is it really worth it? And anyway, I'd miss having you to myself."

Raising a thick brow, Carter rolled his eyes and chuckled, "you talk shit, you know that right?" Norman grumbled and toyed with the sheet that covered him partially, feeling its smooth texture.

"I know."

"And you know I'm gonna get you drunk as hell just so I can get an honest answer out of you, right?"

"Are you now?" Norman challenged, smiling sadly.

"Yep, and we are going to Mulligans On The Blue restaurant and bar tonight. We only have a couple of nights left before we leave on Friday and I would like to make the most of it."

"Trust you to pick the only Irish bar in Maui."

"It goes with my heritage," Carter grinned, "what can I say?" and, placing an arm around Norman, he squeezed tightly.

"You're only quarter Irish."

Picking at the golden fried calamari, Norman eyed the Guinness Carter was guzzling greedily.

"Stop watching," Carter smirked, "it's not my fault you got that God-awful drink and now want to have mine."

Looking down at his light brown and sunrise coloured cocktail, Norman scrunched his face delicately. The John Daly cocktail looked good at the time, with its promise of vodka and lemonade, but why did he order it knowing the vodka was tea flavoured? He hated tea, and had always been an avid coffee drinker since fifteen.

"Fine, I'll just order another drink," and, signalling the attractive tanned barman, Norman pointed to the Budweiser. Turning to face the entertainment, where a large man with curly hair and a guitar stood up on the brightly coloured stage, Norman smiled and gripped Carter's hand for a moment. 'I'm happy.' Squeezing his hand, Carter leaned over so his breath ghosted the taller man's ear.

"I'm just going for a piss, I'll be back."

"How eloquently put, Mr. Blake."

"Anything for you, Mr. Jayden," and, turning on his heel, the lieutenant strode through the small crowd.

Facing the bar once more, Norman eyed the red barstool beside him and slid onto it before grabbing Carter's remaining Guinness and finishing it. 'There! That'll teach him to not share with me!' He grinned as the psychologist within him commented on his action, 'just like a child, Norman.' He froze, and looking down, closed his eyes briefly.

There was that word again, child, except this time it was him bringing it up. 'You need to get over this, and stop goddamn overreacting!' he scolded, 'you already know what's wrong with you; you want children but you're scared for what will happen when you inevitably fuck up. So just calm the fuck down and enjoy married life, at least you understand your problem... and understanding is halfway to fixing, right?'

Jumping, Norman exhaled with relief when he recognised the calloused hand that covered his shoulder. "Finished my beer, have you?" Carter whispered dangerously, "that offence is punishable," and slinking into the barstool beside him, he picked up Norman's Budweiser and took a gulp. "Hey, you okay?"

"MmmHmm.. just admiring the surroundings."

Carter scoffed, "bullshit, but I suppose it's time to get you drunk," and he signalled the barman for two vodka shots.

Gosh, this has to be the longest chapter I have ever written.