Liar, Liar

"Owned a dog," Simon said, blandly ignoring the mutters of 'tame' that followed. Everyone but Sandy and Jim downed their drinks, prompting raised eyebrows from the other three at the bar table.

"What? We moved around," Sandy said. "Wouldn't have been fair."

"And my dad wasn't keen on the mess involved," Jim said with a shrug. "Dogs shed. And dig up the garden."

"Fine." Rafe swept the group with a challenging look, his voice slurring as he continued. Oh, yeah, he'd had a few. "Kissed a man." When a lot of hands started to move, he amended it. "Not like that. I don't mean your old man when you were a kid. On the mouth. You know."

Everyone but Megan froze, a guarded silence falling. Too many people seemed to be staring at Sandy. Megan sighed, rolled her eyes, and picked up another shot glass, knocking it back and slamming it down, enjoying the sound it made against the table. Okay, it'd been a while, but, yes. Kissed a man. Men. Lots of them. In lots of different places. On the mouth? Oh, please -- that was just the tip of the…

"Jim?" she said, dragging her mind back to where it should be before she made herself blush. "Your turn."

"Wait." Rafe was staring openly now. "Come on, Sandburg. Never? You?"

Beside her, Sandy tensed, but his voice was easy and calm when he replied. "Well, it's on my to-do list. Want to help me cross it off?"

Simon chuckled, rich and deep. "Somehow, I don't think he does, Blair."

"No fucking way." Rafe was too emphatic for it to be passed off as a joke and across the table, Jim's face was settling into cold, stiff lines. Megan had seen him look like that before but there'd usually been a corpse nearby. Of course, if he kept it up, Rafe might qualify as dead man walking…

"And if people aren't gonna be truthful, there's no fucking point--"

Jim leaned over the table, took Sandy's shirt in his hand and hauled him in close enough to kiss, making it long enough to count, brief enough to make the ripple of laughter that followed, from everyone but Sandy, empty of suspicion.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Rafe demanded, starting to grin.

Jim raised his glass to his lips and drank, followed an instant later by Sandy, his face closed and angry as he took a token sip. "I was thirsty," Jim said reasonably, setting it back down. "No dog, never wrestled a croc, never been in a threesome… what's a guy got to do to get a drink around here?"

"Heheh." Simon nodded at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. "It's the price you pay for having an uneventful life, Jim."

Jim winced. "Well, I don't know that I'd call it that, Captain…"

The conversation moved on, the game forgotten, Rafe subsiding, good humour restored but still heavy-eyed from a double shift on a stake-out. Jim and Blair had failed to relieve him and Brown because they'd been diverted to a homicide on the way over, one Jim had solved in less than ten minutes because the victim's dog had bitten the attacker and the blood trail to a nearby emergency clinic had been easy to follow.

Megan pursed her lips and gave Sandy a sidelong glance, expecting him to be eying Jim with a grateful look for the save, even though his first reaction had been to pull back, spluttering, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.

She saw Sandy's lips move, shaping a silent word. Jim wasn't even looking, but he jerked slightly, his mouth tightening.

Wrong angle, and she was only guessing, but it looked like Sandy had whispered, "Liar," and that didn't really make sense.

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