Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips

anticlimactic SOS I’ve ever seen sent,” he muttered against the table.
    Zane chuckled wryly and leaned back in the chair. All they could do was wait here for an answer. “You should have brought your crossword puzzle book.”
    Ty sighed heavily and sank to his knees, then turned and flopped onto the ground, effectively hiding under the desk so no one could see him there with Zane. He propped his elbows on his knees and looked up at Zane, ready to wait, and Zane reached over and pushed the tip of the hat off the desk. 
    It didn’t matter that they were in what might be a life-threatening situation. Zane’s thoughts focused sharply on just exactly what Ty could be doing while on his knees under that desk, if he’d just scoot over between Zane’s legs. It took a hell of a lot of willpower to try to banish that thought.
    They watched each other silently for a couple of minutes before Zane spoke up, more to distract himself from the urge to get on his knees too. “Want to watch a football game?”
    That got Ty’s attention. He perked up and leaned forward. “How?” he asked eagerly.
    Zane shrugged and turned back to the terminal. He minimized the e-mail window after making sure it would alert them to a new message and launched a new window. After several clicks, he was scanning through available streaming video from the NFL Network. “We’ve got Jacksonville versus Buffalo, Atlanta and Cleveland, Broncos at the Ravens, and… Arizona at New Orleans. Take your pick.”
    “Give me Saints,” Ty demanded as he got to his knees again and turned to look up at the computer. His arms were folded over the edge of the table, and he stayed on the ground, content to kneel there at Zane’s knee.
    “Not Baltimore?”
    “Ravens are like step-children,” Ty answered as he squinted up at the screen. “I love them, but they’re still sleeping on the couch when the house is full.”
    “So what team did you grow up watching? From West Virginia… the Steelers?” It only took a few keystrokes to pay for the satellite access, and the game from the past Sunday popped up on the screen, just before kickoff.
    “We were sort of a perfect storm,” Ty answered as he rested his chin on his hands. “With baseball it was all Braves all the way on TBS. But football, we caught Cincinnati, Washington, Pittsburgh, Philly, Cleveland. Whoever was on network that week. I was partial to the Redskins. But I got attached to the Saints when I was in Louisiana.”
    Another piece of Ty’s life casually revealed. “I never watched any team but the Cowboys before I lived in Miami,” Zane commented, storing away the new little bits of information about his partner.
    “Well, I’ve always been a whore,” Ty said wryly.
    Zane looked down at Ty in surprise, and his comment popped out before he thought about it. “Wow. I am so true to form.” Ty still razzed Zane for fucking around with prostitutes-turned-informants on the job, even though it had happened way before they ever met. Zane had been a serious mess at the time, but he sure wasn’t now.
    Ty glared up at him briefly, but he didn’t take exception to the comment. Not vocally, anyway. He just pointed at the screen and wagged his fingers urgently.
    Zane turned up the volume as the players lined up. “There you go,” he said, happy with himself.
    Ty patted Zane’s knee, appearing just as pleased, and he left his hand resting there as he watched the screen devotedly. Zane smiled and spent just as much time watching Ty as he did the game and the minimized tab.
    They were partway through the second quarter before the little tab started flashing.
    “About damn time,” Ty said as he pointed at the flashing icon. “Click it, click it!”
    Zane paused the video and clicked over to the e-mail. He opened the RE: and started reading:
    Thanks for the update. The Punch and Judy show’s still on.
    “That’s it?” Ty asked incredulously. “I’m gonna kill Mac when we get home.”
    Zane leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “I’m certainly starting to feel like a damn puppet,” he muttered.
    Ty sighed loudly, and his shoulders slumped. “Well,” he drew out reluctantly. He looked up at Zane with a shrug. “I guess we keep going.” His fingers tightened against Zane’s knee as he pushed himself off the floor.
    Zane watched him stand. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
    Ty looked down at him with wide eyes and patted his pockets absently, then nodded as if remembering what he