~2200 words :: Jude Law/Ewan McGregor :: 5/1/06
Ewan’s deadline gets pushed up and Jude is assigned to help him finish the project.

“Fucking…argh!” Ewan thumps his coffee down on the desk, swearing again as it sloshes over onto his fingers. Absently wiping his hand on his thigh, he gathers up the stray pens and scraps of paper littering his desk. It’s obvious by the handwriting who the culprit is, but Law’s nowhere to be seen. “Why the bloody hell d’you have to use my desk all the time?” Ewan mutters.

It’s not as if Law hasn’t got a perfectly good desk of his own. His cubicle’s right across the room. But Ewan knows why Law uses his. It’s closer to the door (not to mention tidier), and when Law stays late, as he inevitably does when he’s got a deadline coming up, he somehow always manages to migrate to Ewan’s desk over the course of the evening.

And he always leaves a mess. How many pens does one man need to use, anyway? Ewan jerks open his desk drawer and arranges them neatly, biros with biros and markers with markers. Highlighters off to the side by themselves. Red pens and blue and black, all tidily organised. Ewan shuts the drawer carefully so they don’t get messed up.

He puts paperclips back in their little magnetic holder and straightens his phone so it’s lined up exactly parallel to the edge of his desk. His calendar’s a bit off, too, and there’s the hole punch that should be in the drawer with the pens. He puts it away, opening the drawer just as carefully as he’d closed it.

“Sorry ’bout the mess,” says a voice in his ear.

Ewan turns, frowning as Law claps him on the back. “I don’t know why you can’t stay at your own desk. Here,” he presses the post-it notes into Law’s hand, “you forgot these.”

“Hmm? Oh,” Law glances at them and lets them drop, fluttering down into the bin, “just rubbish.”

His hand is uncomfortably warm on Ewan’s shoulder, but before Ewan can say anything, it’s gone and Law is stepping away, pointing at Ewan’s desk as he walks backwards to own desk. “You’ve spilt coffee, you know.”

Ewan just glares at him.

Sitting down, Ewan takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s not even Monday; why is the morning starting off so badly? Finally, he sighs and puts his glasses back on, reaches into the bottom drawer for a couple of napkins, and mops up the coffee with one hand, jiggling his mouse to get rid of the screensaver with the other.

Of course Law’s been at his computer as well. There are documents scattered all over the desktop and a couple of new programmes installed as well. He deletes the shortcuts on the desktop and when he opens up Eudora to e-mail Law the files, he’s surprised to find he’s still logged in. Or not, this isn’t his mailbox. Law must have sent himself the files last night and forgot to log out afterwards.

“Would it kill you to delete the files when you’re done?” Ewan mutters. He’s about to log out when one of the messages catches his eye, specifically phrases like “an arse to die for” and “fucked him til he begged”.

Ewan takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He hasn’t done anything wrong. After all, it’s not like he clicked on the message; it was just right there in the preview pane. And it was Law who’d left himself logged in.

…til he begged…

“Fuck,” Ewan mutters, trying desperately to ignore the surge of blood to his cock.

…an arse to die for…

Logging out, he glances over to where Law’s standing, dazzling smile turned on Alice as she settles down at her desk next to him. Law looks up, winks at him, and Ewan realises he’s been caught out. Glowering, he quickly turns back to his computer and logs in to his own email. One email from Pertwee wanting to know if they can push the deadline up when it’s already fucking down to the wire, and three spams for breast enlargement. It doesn’t improve his mood.

He fires off a reply to Pertwee – firm but polite – and sips his rapidly cooling coffee. It’s not as if he hasn’t wondered about Law. Well, perhaps fantasised is a better word. But still, it’s not as if the thought of Law and arses (in particular, Ewan’s own) hasn’t crossed his mind.

Fuck. This is not the time to be thinking about Law like that. Not at work, and especially not when he’s got ten chapters left to edit before Monday.

“McGregor,” Pertwee calls, striding out of his office, “we really need that by tomorrow morning.”

“I told you, I ca-”

“Get someone to help you.” The room falls silent, everyone hunching over their computers and trying to look busy.

“Really, that won’t be necessary.”

“Alice,” Pertwee says, “why don’t you-”

“Wednesday deadline. Not a chance.”

Pertwee doesn’t push it, just glances around and locks onto his next target. “Jacobs…”

“I have time,” Law pipes up. “Just wrapped up a project last night.”

Of all people, Ewan thinks, groaning inwardly. I’d probably get more done on my own.

“Perfect. I have a meeting tomorrow at nine. I’ll need it on my desk before then.”

As soon as Pertwee’s back in his office, Law ambles over to Ewan’s desk, grinning broadly. Sighing, Ewan slumps back in his chair. Even with them both working on it, they’ll probably still be here til midnight.

Law bends down, hand on Ewan’s shoulder, and Ewan could swear he’s closer this time, or maybe it’s just that Ewan’s thoughts are a whirling jumble of cockarselawlickingsuckingfuckingmeohchristnotnow. “Why don’t you just email me the whole thing so I can look it over?” Law says – closer, yeah, because Ewan can feel his breath on his cheek. “Get an idea of what we’ve got here.”

“Right,” Ewan swallows, “well, it’s just the last ten chapters, so if you take the last five, we should be able to get it done in time.”

And with a clap on the back and a “Brilliant,” Law’s already heading back to his desk, leaving Ewan feeling more than a little out of sorts. He tells himself it’s Law’s blatant disregard of personal space, and not the fact that he’s always quick to bugger off once he’s done what he came for.

The day seems both to drag and go altogether too fast, typical of deadlines. It’s really not so bad, though, working with Law. Aside from a few emails, Law doesn’t bother him much, and Ewan has to admit the knowledge that he only has to do half of the remaining chapters is the one thing keeping him from having an anxiety attack.

By seven everyone else is gone, and it weren’t for the faint strains of Franz Ferdinand coming from Law’s speakers, Ewan would think he was alone. “Of all the nights for him to stay put,” Ewan grumbles under his breath. Not that he wants Law to be over here pestering him, but still.

“I need to go stretch my legs,” Ewan says, pushing his chair back and swivelling towards Law. “You fancy Chinese?”

“Yeah,” Law doesn’t look up, “uh, beef and broccoli or something like that.” He digs in his pocket, glances over at Ewan, holding out a crumpled note. “Ta.”

Pretending that’s what he’d meant all along, Ewan gets up and walks over, plucking the money from Law’s hand. “No problem,” he mutters, and wishes he didn’t sound quite so snippy.

When he gets back, Law has made himself comfortable at Ewan’s desk. “I was only gone half an hour,” Ewan says, dropping the food down in front of Law.

Law shrugs. “I had to piss.”

“And you couldn’t walk the twenty feet back to your own desk?”

“Why does it matter? You weren’t here.”

“Well, I am now. Christ, what a mess.” Pushing away the clutter that’s managed to pile up while he was gone, Ewan perches on the edge of his desk and opens up a carton of cashew chicken. He’ll tidy up later. No use doing so while Law’s still at his desk anyway. “You can move that stack on the left onto the ten over there,” he says with his mouth full, pointing at the screen with his fork.

“I saw it.” Law clicks on the cards and drags them over. “I was just about to move them there.”


To Law’s increasingly vocal annoyance, Ewan continues to point out moves until Law finally abandons the computer for his dinner. They eat in silence for the most part, but Ewan finds himself unexpectedly glad that Law doesn’t go back to his own desk, and not just because of the view he affords.

Law scoffs down his food, finishing long before Ewan, and the sound of the chair being pushed back jerks Ewan out of a vague fantasy of Law’s mouth being put to altogether different (and much more interesting) uses. Then Law moves closer, standing between Ewan’s legs as he rubs at Ewan’s cheek with his thumb, and Ewan wonders if maybe he’s somehow managed to fall asleep, because surely this is not happening.

“You had sauce on your cheek,” Law says, but he’s still standing right there, and his hand’s kind of cupping Ewan’s cheek now. Okay, there’s not much “kind of” about it, and he is, in fact, leaning closer in a way that seems to imply he might want to kiss Ewan.

This, Ewan decides, is a good idea, even if the one beer he’s had with dinner isn’t enough to be an excuse later. It’s a good idea because it’s happening, and he’s not been able to stop thinking about Law all day, but most of all it’s a good idea because Law’s tongue is in his mouth, tasting of whatever sauce it is they put on the beef and broccoli.

Ewan fumbles about, trying to set down his food without knocking over his beer, and when he’s finally got both hands free, he grabs Law’s arse, slides off the edge of the desk and pulls him close. At one point Ewan realises his glasses are missing, but he can’t even remember who took them off, possibly because Law’s sucking on his neck like a fucking vampire while grinding his cock into the crease of Ewan’s groin. He’s pretty sure that combination lets him off the hook for any drop in mental faculties.

They both reach for the other’s belt at the same time, and though their hands keep getting the way, neither of them is willing to stop and wait for the other. There’s more groping than anything, but eventually their flies are open, pants and trousers shoved down around their hips. Ewan groans as he wraps his hand around Law’s cock and wishes he were the type to keep a johnny in his wallet.

Not that this is bad, not by a long shot. Law’s cock is warm and heavy in his hand, the slit leaking precome that Ewan slicks over the head with his thumb as he strokes.

“Turn around,” Law mutters.

“But I don’t-”

“Just do it.” Law’s voice isn’t any louder this time, but there’s something in it that has Ewan bent over the desk with his legs spread in seconds. Law shoves Ewan’s pants and trousers down around his knees, pushes his shirt up and his legs even further apart, and then he’s sliding his cock between Ewan’s cheeks, thrusting against his arse.

“Oh God…” Groaning, Ewan reaches down for his cock, but Law just bats his hand away, starts wanking Ewan himself. “Oh God,” Ewan gasps, biting the inside of his lip, “oh Jesus fuck.” His balls are tight, ready to shoot at any second, and when Law slides his hand down to squeeze them, Ewan almost does. “Please…

Law’s grip tightens. “Please what?”

“Lemme come, oh God, please…”

And then Law’s stroking him again, fast and rough, and saying, “Go on, then,” and Ewan shudders, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the desktop, and comes hard into Law’s hand.

Law doesn’t pause, hand moving slowly on Ewan’s cock as he thrusts against his arse. “Fuck me,” Ewan moans, light-headed and still trying to catch his breath, and Law groans at that, grips Ewan’s hips bruisingly and thrusts against him a couple more times, saying “yeah, yeah” until he stiffens, shooting hot come onto Ewan’s back.

Sometime later, Ewan doesn’t know how long, Law finally steps back, lets Ewan up. He pulls open the drawer where Ewan keeps his stash of napkins, and wipes off his hand and Ewan’s back. Ewan pulls up pants and trousers, flops down into his chair and says, “Christ, I’m never going to be able to concentrate enough to get this thing finished.” Not to mention all the crap on his desk that needs to be tidied up.

Zipping himself up, Law grins and shrugs, and with an air of casualness that Ewan can see right through, says, “The sooner we finish up, the sooner I can take you home and fuck you properly.”

“Right.” Ewan swallows as his cock tries to rally for another round. Fuck the mess. “I’ll get right on it, then.”