Title: Devils at our Doors
Author: *bright
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: 7.04 Fannysmackin' and 6.20 Poppin' Tags.
Pairing: Nick/Warrick
Category: PWP, crack!fic
Summary: Sometimes they just plain have to play with their personal devils, and each other.
Author's Note: I'm a sick pup. Un-beta'd. Because really – there's a limit to what you can drop in your betas' un-suspecting laps.
Disclaimer: Me own zip and nada, ‘cept an overactive imagination.

He knows somebody's there even before he opens his eyes. He hears something in his half-sleep, something living and breathing in his bedroom, something that wasn't there when he went to bed. He listens to the sound, debating what to do next? Like there really are options. He is flat on his stomach under a sheet, still not quite sure if he's having some kind of nightmare or not? He's as vulnerable as can be like this. The breathing is soft but rushed, not threatening in any way and still his heart-rate keeps increasing. Raising his head from the pillow he opens his eyes and spots the digital alarm that says '3 PM'. Something makes his mattress move and with eyes itchy from sleep he feels cold sweat forming on his brow just as he swings around and darts up into a sitting position.

The bed moves again and a hoarse voice whispers: "Nicky?"

"Dammit Rick, you're gonna give me a freakin' heart attack!"

His bud sits leaned up against the foot end of the bed. The bedroom door is ajar, light seeping in from the hall that is bathed with sharp day-light. Warrick is clad in running clothes; sweatpants and a tee that is damp in the front. His feet are bare and his breathing soft but quick. The scent of Warrick all warmed up and sweaty makes Nick slightly bothered. But Warrick is just sitting there, watching him intently with those green, cat-like eyes. Like a hunter watching his prey. The gaze is penetrating, demanding something unspoken. It jars Nick out of the vestiges of sleep; the scrutinizing stare is so intense that he feels naked and bare.

Nick sends a glare in his bud's direction, shaking his head because this is not the first time he finds Warrick Brown at the end of his bed. The fact that his bud sneaks in on him is nothing new, it pisses him off and scares him half to death at the same time. Only Warrick's eyes hold a desperation of sorts; something wild, unbridled and raw. Something that needs investigating.

"What are you doing here?" Nick asks, voice still raspy.

Warrick just continues looking at him, and it sends thrills right down his spine.

"What?" He moves up to his silent bud, sheets slithering down his body from the movement, muscles hardening, exposing his anger at the sudden abrupt awakening and at the same time - the need he can't ever hide from his bud. "You turn up like this, lookin' all frazzled. What happened? You lose all your clothes on some bet? Got kicked out from some casino due to indecent behavior? Did I do something? Forget something? Which devil is riding you today?"

Warrick leans forward and grips his neck hard, pulling their foreheads together. "What'cha doin' Nicky? What the fuck was that showdown yesterday all about?"

Nick blinks, totally unprepared for the topic. Warrick had probably saved his sorry ass one more time, he knew that. "Sorry for that."

"No you weren't, you got off on punching that little dipshit. You trying to get fired?" Warrick's eyes gleam dangerously and the grip on Nick's neck tightens further.

"You saw what he did to Greg, man. You saying he didn't deserve it?" He shoots back, challenging the other man with a glare of his own.

"You didn't know he was behind it at the moment, Nick. You just had it in you and couldn't rein it in. What's going on with you?" Fingers take a steadier grip, forcing him to tilt his head up enough to get on eye-to-eye level with Warrick.

Nick lets his stare do the talking. No use searching for words he cannot find right now. Warrick's right, it all came tumbling down in that precise moment. First he'd let Cath down and left her at a bar to get drugged up. Just because he had to be a gentleman and follow the cashier girl from the mini-market around the corner, and her even ditzier friend, home. Just because he knew they'd get in trouble if let out on the Strip alone. And then Greg being beaten up to a pulp. He had wanted to hit hard, and he did. Still didn't feel any kind of remorse about it either. Would do it again.

"You were right, this town is gettin' to me, man." That's the only explanation he can come up with. It's feeble and weak and will not hold in the court of Judge Warrick Brown, he already knows that too.

"You're trippin' on me, boss."

Warrick is still holding him captive with his intent gaze and strong fingers. No way to escape this, nowhere to hide. "You think?"

"Yeah." Warrick nods, pulling him even closer. "Am I gonna have to haul ya in and ground ya?"

The kiss is hard, teeth clashing, tongue probing inside without asking permission, plundering with its intensity. Mind-numbing and demanding, it makes Nick's arms come up and twine around Warrick's neck. But even that is not enough. The sensation of Warrick's increasing heartbeat makes him work to get the man's clothing off, clothes that he redeems unnecessary at the moment. Warrick only pauses his assault briefly as Nick tugs off the damp tee. It's easy, it's welcome and Nick moans into the kiss.

Warrick rises to his knees, pulling Nick up flush against him, with chest grinding against chest. Hard muscle dance while fingers roam down the sinew of the spinal cord, grips a globe of the shorter man's ass and the strong body of his best bud presses hard up against an erection. Nick grins; relenting as Warrick's fingers divests him with little finesse.

"You don't go off on anybody but me like that, Nicky." The green eyes send a flash of steely determination before teeth bite down on neck, just below the ear.

"Ouch!" Nick yelps and slaps the ass at his reach, receiving a moan in reply. He narrows his eyes and concentrates on the reactions of the man driving him out of his mind. Warrick's tongue now licking hot trails down his neck, tongue flat against his skin, hands pulling at him like if he needs him imprinted onto his skin.

"You jealous, Rick? Goin' all green-eyed on me, man?" He laughs deep in his throat, hand sliding in under the waistband of the loose sweatpants his bud never uses. Except today, for some odd reason. "That's why you're here? You need your ass whooped? " He slaps the rounded flesh with open palm.

"Shut up, Stokes." The voice is vibrating, almost pleading in steep contrast to the order in the wording.

Another hard slap and another deep, rumbling groan. The tongue falters and hot breath burns his skin as a shiver makes the body in his hold tremble, and Nick smiles victoriously. "Yeah, man, I gotcha."

He slips the pants and boxers down his bud's ass, kneading hard and biting at the shoulder now perfectly placed as Warrick's arms slide down to encircle his waist. His lover is holding on hard, breath uneven as soft, abandoned sounds slip out of him in continuation.

Nick leans back, pulling Warrick with him. Landing on his ass, he positions Warrick to lie over his thigh, his man's ass in perfect reach and erection trapped. He rakes his short nails over the thighs as he divests his bud, grinning at the goose-bumps that form in his nails' wake. Warrick kicks the clothes from his ankles and groans as the erection rubs against Nick's tensed thigh.

Nick starts his biting at the curve of the shoulder-blade. Nipping slowly, hand slapping occasionally at one globe of the muscular butt. Warrick's hands grip the sheets hard, erection pressing down on Nick's thigh and the sounds he lets out are like the ones when he's just about to let go. That is enough to send Nick's own cock leaking.

"That's right Warr, you've been bad." Nick grins against the skin, letting his tongue follow the indention of the spine, teeth emerging occasionally to nip and tease. "So fricken bad." He groans himself at the sensation of the throbbing erection rubbing against his leg, as he slaps the other globe. Harder this time, just enough to leave a slight reddening on the skin.

Warrick turns his head, eyes a mere slit. Pupils so blown that the green is hardly visible as he looks at Nick, tongue coming out to wet his lips. "Mnnh, Stokes," slips out of him, from somewhere deep inside, voice all hoarse and vibrating.

"Yeah, Rick." A hard pinch to the earlier deprived bun. "I gotcha all right." A slap that sends the rounded fleshy globe shivering. Nick cups his hands over the perfect curve, feeling the muscle playing underneath. It's accompanied with slight shivers and tension in the broad shoulders. It makes his synapses go hay-wire and he really wants to punish this man, do exactly what he is asking for and plunge into him hard and fuck him till he screams. But you don't ever play into the devil's hand, that's one thing Nick's learned. Control is a guiding light; the tight reins on yourself is really the only way to survive. Survive this hell-hole of a town, survive the perils of your own emotions and what they drag you into. He smiles when he leans in to whisper right above the pulse point on Warrick's temple. "You're all mine now, Rick." Then he bites the taut skin on the shoulder-blade, hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to send another shudder along the prone body. "All mine to take."

Warrick's body is taut, spine curving as butt comes up in search of contact, while long slender fingers form fists around the sheets.

"That's right, babe," Nick croons and shifts his position closer to the pumping hips, trapping his own erection between his stomach and the hard flank of the man sprawled over his lap. The friction makes him groan and lower his voice into a warning. "So bad baby, so fuckin' bad."

Leaning in, he has access to all the skin playing on the broad back of his lover. Skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat, playing over hardened muscle and bones. Warrick is beautiful, all needy goodness and desperate lust. The moist on Nick's inner thigh is proof enough of how much Rick needs this. And the turn on of a hard erection gliding on his pre-cum wetted thigh has him biting down on his lip to stifle his own needy sounds. Kneading hard, Nick breaths in the scent of arousal, letting it fill his senses and he closes his eyes to savor the gift he's being handed. Rick at his most vulnerable, yet totally secure with him. Secure enough to lose the patented coolness and melt into his hold. It tugs at Nick's heart, tenderness making his eyes well up. His free leg wraps around Warrick's legs, keeping him close as Nick drapes himself over the back of his lover. His lips now close to the partly open and continuously panting mouth of his man, he kisses him hard, nips at the lips and grins at the hungry response.

Warrick's hand works its way down Nick's flank and he stops it with a growl. "No! No touching, Rick. You're all mine now and you're gonna take what I give you and only what I give you. No playing around." He speaks barely an inch over Rick's hungry mouth, letting his breath breeze over the wet, swollen lips. Smiles at the needy sounds and lets his lips trail over the pulsating vein on Warrick's neck until he gets to the nape of his lover's neck. For a moment he just breaths him in, then he decides to answer Warrick's thrusts with his own, letting his hips undulate slowly against his man. His pre-cum now leaking onto the already slick skin, the scent of their mutual arousal heavy.

"Uhm, fuck, Stokes, take me!"

Nick lets his teeth sink into the skin on Warrick's neck, growling a wordless warning deep in his throat. He's shivering now, on the edge of losing control.

Warrick's body tenses and Nick bites down harder, letting his hips work and increase the friction of Warrick's hardened length. From the corner of his eye he sees his man's eyes close in bliss, hands tearing at the sheets. A steady stream of beautiful sounds of ecstasy leaving the parted lips. One hard slap at the beautiful butt-cheek is what it takes before Rick slips over the edge with a hoarse holler into the pillow, and forceful thrusts that sends his load pulsating over Nick's thigh.

"Oh shit, man." Nick has to bite down on his bottom lip not to follow. The display of lust and completion that is served is delicious. The force in the body he's holding tight is intoxicating and sends shivers through him as Warrick lets go. The sounds that spills from the very core of his man when he shudders with every ejaculation are enough to make Nick mumble incoherently in his fight to hold back and not come all over Rick's back. Nick closes his eyes, lets his hips still and presses Warrick down into the mattress, riding out the waves of the other man's orgasm with a smile on his lips.

"So hot, man, so hot." He whispers the words to the nape of his bud's neck, letting the tip of his tongue follow the lines and laps up the sweat forming in the juncture at the base. Warrick is just panting now, eyes in a slit and fingers relaxing while he slowly comes down from his high.

"Anytime you want me to play the devil, babe, you know where to find me." Nick chuckles against the damp skin of the now relaxed neck and flips them both enough to settle behind Warrick. He pushes his leg in between Warrick's and aligns his own hard length with the crease of the mauled butt and pulls the man flush against his body. "I'll be the devil at your door anytime you need me to, Rick."

"Nicky." The name is spoken like a confession; full of adoration, but tinged with guilt and need for absolution.

"So I'm back to Nicky now?" He purrs at the man, letting his hands slowly caress the long line of slightly bent thigh and hard abdomen.

Warrick chuckles in reply. "What'ya doing to me, Nicky?"

"You keep asking me that, Rick. I'm just givin' what you needed, just givin' you the ass-whoopin' you so obviously had comin'."

"Nick," Warrick's voice is husky and low when he speaks quietly into the tangled sheets. "About being in the wrong town -."

"Yeah?" Nick has to move in closer to understand the half-mumbled words. "What about it?"

"If you ever leave, I will hunt you down and -, don't fucking leave, man!" Warrick rolls to face him, the force of his movement sending Nick flat to his back. A hand comes up to cup his neck while the other curves over his hipbone as the length of his lover's body nestles up against his side, the weight pressing him down. Green eyes hovering over his, the desperation back in them. The one Nick thought he'd chased away.

"What ya talkin' ‘bout bro?" His fingers comb through thick dreads, letting the coarseness caress him, enjoying the texture against the palm of his hand. "Just som'thin' I said in the heat of the moment. Not gonna leave."

"Good." Warrick is running a hand slowly over Nick's abdomen now, never touching the erection, that is begging to be manhandled, but simply contents himself with driving Nick insane with the fingers that egg and arouse.

"Rick." It's his turn to beg now, arching into the strokes over his taut belly. Warrick's fingers holding a firm grip on his neck and wet, swollen lips stationed a mere inch over his own. He looks from the lips to the narrowed eyes, noting the still blown pupils and smiles before he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Please."

This time the kiss starts with feathery lightness. Tips of tongues barely touching, following lines of wet, kiss-swollen lips, delving in just a fraction before darting back out to trace the contour of teeth. Closed lips touch almost chastely before opening slightly just for a taste. Both men playing each other, taking in the scent and taste with measured and precise movements.

Nick closes his eyes, the visual input of blown pupils surrounded with a thin intense line of green, is just too much to handle. Hand goes out to grab a hold of the delicious butt he's been working and he thrusts against the hard and heavy body pinning his own down. The sensation of Warrick's cock that's trapped between their bodies and starting to harden all over again, makes him moan in delight. The slow kiss isn't enough anymore and he suckles on the probing tongue, sucks it deep inside and hums at the welcomed wetness filling his mouth and causing synapses in his brain to fire off floods of consuming desire.

Warrick breaks the kiss, rising to lean on his arms over Nick. "Need you to ram that boner into me, bro, hard. I gotta get you inside, I want ya to fuck me till I can't breathe no more. I want you to pound into me and send me trippin'." He reaches for the nightstand drawer, pulls it out and fetches the tube of lube. "And I want you bare-back coz' I want your cum to leak out of me for a week. You're not fucking going off on anybody but me."

Nick narrows his eyes, listening to the pain behind the words. "Whazz' up with you, man? Told ya I'm sorry, what else do you want from me?" He grips the hand going for his erection hard around the wrist, stopping it, making it land on his belly and hissing as Warrick's hot palm rubs his needy flesh. Working to get his bearing back, he grips Warrick's hair hard and yanks, staring hard into the greens. "Spill, bro!"

"You were ready to French kiss your career goodbye for Sanders! You flipped out because he was beaten up! I had to haul you off that scoundrel, haul you off him because you were so off limit that the base wasn't even in sight anymore. And you're asking me what devils?" The tone is accusatory, laced with something akin to pain.

Nick holds Warrick in check with his gaze alone. Holds him in place and controls him, not ever letting his lover's eyes waver away from his own. When the pain in the eyes of the man, with coolness as brand, finally is allowed to rise to the surface, he relents and lets his hand run over the tensed pectorals of Warrick's chest before he softly orders: "On your back, man."

With an easy roll he is on top, probing to get Warrick where he wants him. And the man obliges, sinking into the mattress as Nick positions himself with bent knees partly under Warrick's ass. His man sighs and spreads his legs invitingly and Nick coats his fingers with lube. Growls a warning when Warrick moves to touch him, warns him with his eyes and pushes a finger slowly inside. Warrick is already lax and beautifully open, ready for penetration. But that is what Warrick believes he wants; to stifle the pain his devil is inflicting. He thinks he needs to blur it with hurt from brutal force and Nick's not about to give him that. Not now, not when he recognizes the devil at his bud's door. He leans in and kisses Warrick deep and slow when his finger touches the bundle of nerves, pulling needy sounds out of the man at his mercy, having him on the brink with the slow thrusts of his cock against the perfectly tuned ass he's manhandled earlier. Warrick's head lolls to the side and he mumbles a steady stream of curses and pleas. That's when Nick grins and moves over to lick and nip at the chocolate brown nipples, the pert flesh that teases his tongue and signals his man's needs by pebbling up into dark, alluring raspberries. He doesn't stop his assault until Warrick is panting and pulling at the sheets. Mumbling incoherently while hips roll with reciprocating thrusts.

That's when he rolls his man to the side and lies down to cover the broad back with his chest, sneaks a leg between his lover's strong thighs and finally pushes inside. Slowly, inch by inch despite Warrick's desperate thrust up against the invading cock. Nick simply grips the hips and holds firm. He has to hold still for his own sake, he's too close to the peak, too close for comfort. What he needs is to ravish the man under him, feel the tightness give in and welcome him. But that would be giving in and Nick's not going there, not yet. He stays unmoving until Warrick growls and jerks his ass toward him, gyrating to get the friction he needs.

"Fuck, Nicky, move!"

He now has his man where he wants him. His eyes never leave his lover's lust-contorted face. The sounds tell him exactly when he finds Warrick's prostate; moans deepening and lowering into a lusty purr.

"That's right, Rick, this is the only punishment you're ever gonna get from me. Bend your knees, man, just give it all up." He pushes in harder, rolls them over again until Warrick is on his knees, bent double and totally open for him to take. That's when his fingers bury into the working hips, lifts them up into a better angle and ups his pace. The side of Warrick's sweat-covered face rubs up against the sheet with every thrust. His mouth is open and he breathes with quick, jagged moans that makes Nick leak more pre-cum into his man with every thrust. Sliding freely into the tight channel, he suffocates his own garbled cries.

"Get used to it babe," he can't stop the growl at every thrust. "Get used to the fact that however much you beg, I'm not about to hurt you in any way." His voice is shot to hell by now, all raspy and raw. "Not ever, ya hear?"

His own breathing is labored now, labored from holding back the heat that's pooled in his groin, slowly climbing up his spine. His words slip out in an odd staccato, punctuated with each hard thrust. The moist heat around him and the sound of skin slapping against skin is nearly too much to bear. He grips his lover's hips tighter, pushes in deeper and leans in over the sweaty back to place kisses along the curved spine. Warrick tries to move a hand to touch himself, but Nick stops him with a hard bite to the shoulder blade.

"No!"

Nick rakes his fingernails along the bent legs, pumping his hips hard and fighting against the urge to lose his control and let go before his lover does. Sweat burns in his eyes as he lets his cheek fall onto the curved back and reaches out, lets the silken erection slide over his palm, feels the weight and the softness of the skin.

Warrick howls darkly and pushes hard onto him.

Nick licks the sweat off his lover's back and closes his hand around the throbbing erection, moving in pace with his hips' thrusts and flicks his thumb over the leaking head.

Warrick's body tenses into a bow, trembling acutely before he shivers violently and shoots into Nick's hand with rhythmical spurts. Nick whimpers helplessly, matching his thrusts to the ejaculations and feels the control start to slip. Heat is traveling up his spine and sending cascades of warm, molten pleasure to his limbs, forcing sounds out of him, to then explode into a white light behind his closed eyelids. His breath falters, his strength is forcefully pumped out of him, his body's response taking over and leaving him without any possibility of control. He falls heavily over his lover's back and holds on while he swallows sobs of pleasure as the aftermath his orgasm ebbs out with occasional shudders that involves his entire body. Warrick's limbs seem to give in and he sinks down, panting and boneless and Nick can't hold him up, has no strength left but follows, landing in a tangled embrace.

Pressing his cheek to the sweaty skin, he rakes his fingers slowly through Warrick's hair, finally breathes in deeply and presses a chaste kiss to the nape of the neck while another shudder ripples through him, making Warrick emit a strangled moan of his name.

Nick just keeps his eyes closed, listening to the breaths of his lover slowly evening out. With a heavy sigh he moves enough to slip out and is promptly pulled into a deep, lazy kiss by Warrick's strong arms. Nick lays his hand on the beating heart, mumbles a declaration of love and kisses the vein pulsating on Rick's neck.

"What'cha doing to me, Nicky?" Warrick asks for the third time in the span of this one, heated encounter.

Nick smiles against his man's neck.

"Nicky," Warrick purrs, pulling him closer still and nestling Nick's head into the crook of his neck. "You're not leaving town, not now, not ever. I'll spank your skinny ass and drag you back if you ever think about ditching me."

"Skinny ass?"

"Excuse me, skinny Texan ass. Which, of course, I happen to find highly desirable. Just don't go broadcasting it."

"My ass is flattered," Nick huffs. "At least I think it is."

"You know, metaphorically speaking. Just don't remove it from this town."

"Now, was that a submerged or implicit metaphor?" Nick asks in all innocence.

Warrick growls. "It's a leave-this-town-and-you're-dead kind of metaphor."

"Oh crap," Nick chuckles. "Here I go out of my way to cure you from the Sanders devil and you find another one to play with? Not leaving, now shut up!" He twines his legs with Warrick's to emphasize the truth in the words.

"Nick, I know there are devils at your door too, can't fool me. You just don't talk about them but they keep popping up on you from time to time, don't they? You hide them well, but I've seen them, don't think I haven't. And they scare me. Seems they pop up more and more, man. I don't know what the fuck to do about that. I'll let you play with them, but if they start dragging you off the field, I will come after you and drag you back, cuffed and restrained if needed. They're not gonna get you, not while I'm on watch."

"I know," Nick admits, nestling in closer. "Not gonna let your devils get the better of you either. I'll smack your ass anytime it's needed, bro."

Silence falls, but it feels thick and full of questions. Nick can sense the unease in Warrick's tensing limbs. Perturbed he tries to move away only to be stopped by a strong arm around his shoulders. Warrick's voice is low and probing when he finally speaks. "What's up with you lately, bro? You seem pissed off half of the time, like you're about to blow up from inside. It's not normal, man. When I get pissed I just explode and have it over with. You keep it so tightly reined in I can see the smoke rising, and still nothing. Then you go off on a crime scene? What's that all about? It's like you're on the verge of blowing up most of the time, and only that tight control of yours is keeping you glued. No glue holds forever, bro. You scare the shit outta me, Nicky."

Nick growls and tries to move away from under the arm pressing him down. "Don't go there, Rick. It's not like -, it's nothing."

Warrick sighs and rolls to his side to wrap long limbs all over Nick. "No Nick, I can see it. I can see the glue giving in and you about to come un-done. That's why you're so busy raising the walls all the time. Your emotions are what make you so good at what you do and now you're bending inside out to keep them on the back burner? Taking Sanders' misfortune as an excuse to let some of that steam out? You're gonna hurt yourself like that, Nicky. And not even Sanders is gonna thank you for burning yourself out like that."

Nick raises his head, locking gaze with his man. "Shut up, man. You're so off -"

Warrick meets his eyes, shaking his head. "No, I'm spot on. Y'know I am. Not gonna let you self-destruct, bro, not gonna let that happen." He tightens his grip, rolls them around and positions Nick's head back on his chest. "I gotcha, boss. No need to run off on me. I got your devil tagged."

Nick fights the impulse to get up and shake the man. But it feels fine where he's at. Better than a lot of places he's been lately. His bud is spot on, but he'll never admit that. But somehow, his bud having seen through the layers he's been perfecting so carefully, takes a load off him. So he simply relaxes against the broad chest, letting his slightly scrubby cheek rub against the sweaty skin. "Leave Sanders alone already, will ya? I'd kill for you. You have no idea how close I was to pulling the trigger when that jack-ass walked up and threatened you on that Dollar's case. If you hadn't slammed him up against the door, I would have shot. Talk about kissing your career goodbye." He raises his head and grins. "And y'know what? If the same happens again, I wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Not if you're on the wrong end of it."

"I know," Warrick replies. "Saw your finger itching and had to do something about it. Killing an unarmed man would not go unnoticed by Conrad. Of course, I am not entirely sure you wouldn't beat the rap. Conrad seems to have taken a liking for you."

"Now you're tripping, man." Nick laughs into his man's shoulder.

"Yeah? Take a gander next time he's in a room with you. He looks like he wants to lick you clean. I can see the devil in his eyes too, and this one wants my Nicky."

To Nick's surprise Warrick sounds perfectly serious. He shakes his head and flips onto his back, craning his head to glare at the man at his side. "The only devil that has the key to that door is you, Rick. So chill."

Warrick moves up to lean on his elbow, obviously looking for something. Then he grins and tugs a corner of the sheet loose and cleans them both up. "You're all sticky, Nicky," he taunts.

"I just changed the sheets," Nick pouts. "Could'a used your tee, man."

Warrick looks at him, rolls his eyes and grunts before he settles back down and drapes his arm around Nick, tugging him closer, none too gently. "Stop whining. You know I'm sleepin' on the wet spot, right?"

"Yeah, because you're the bad-ass."

"Gotcha boss."