Actions

Work Header

Boring BORING sex.

Chapter Text

It all started one night in early June, when everything was back to normal - or what 'normal' meant in Todd's life anyway now he was a partner at Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.

The three of them (Dirk, Farah, Todd) had come to see Amanda's band at Mike's Tavern. Mike's was a dive of a bar. There was more grime on the beer bottles than in the bathrooms and the only way you could find the entrance was by accidentally falling in it. It had one redeeming quality: an open mic night with full drum kit. It was Amanda's fourth real show with her band I Hate Voicemail. They was starting to gather a following on Youtube (thanks to some spectacularly bad music videos filmed by Dirk) and Todd had finally convinced her to let them see them play live.

Todd thought she had been great. Better than great - amazing - and had experienced no pararibulitis attacks. Todd had been sick with worry whilst in the line outside until he noticed a familiar van parked in an alley; 'the boys' - as Amanda liked to call the Rowdy Three - were there to protect her.

When Amanda ran up to them after her slot, she immediately grabbed Farah tightly and squealed.

Todd stood to the side. His face was hurting with how hard he was smiling.

'You were great!' Farah yelled over the roar of the next band.

'That was absolutely, amazingly, unbelievably fantastic - !' Dirk shouted. He had danced throughout non-stop, mostly on his own but occasionally with Farah - his manic energy not once giving out. 'I mean, when the notes were in order they were brilliant - but then when they weren't! Oh, when they weren't, it was all the better for it!'

Dirk jumped a few times, his fist pumping, as if he wasn't sure how to expel excitement any other way.

'Thanks, Dirk!' Amanda smiled, slightly embarrassed. 

She looked at Todd in expectation, her eyes glinting.

Todd couldn't find the words to explain his pride and happiness to see her looking so well and doing what she loved. He shook his head, grinning.

'Fucking cool, sis.'

Amanda beamed.

They grabbed themselves a booth, Todd sliding in next to Dirk on a bench and Amanda and Farah sitting on seats opposite. The new band were a lot slower than Amanda's high-octane punk and easy to listen to. People were milling around, chatting with open smiles, holding bottles and glasses. 

'Drinks?' Farah asked the table.

'Beer,' Amanda ordered. Todd held up a finger to indicate the same.

'Dirk?'

'Oh, err -' Dirk shrugged his shoulders, flummoxed. 'Whatever you believe would be good for the occasion, I suppose!'

As Farah walked away, Amanda looked concernedly at Dirk. 

'Dirk, you don't have to drink if you don't want to.'

Dirk looked happily blank. 'Why would I not want to?'

Amanda and Todd shared a glance between themselves. 

'Just - I don't think I've seen you drink before. If you're, you know -' Amanda motioned with her hands to illustrate some larger concept, '- sober or something or even just not into alcohol, we can get you a water. Or soda?'

Dirk scrunched his nose with a small smile. 'Oh, hardly sober, Amanda. Just because I don't get massively drunk every night doesn't mean I don't enjoy a tipple now and again.'

Todd smirked and discreetly wiggled his little finger at Amanda - their secret sign for when Dirk did anything overtly and unnecessarily English. 

In a few minutes, Farah came back with eight bottled beers and pushed two of them in Dirk's direction.

Todd couldn't help watching Dirk take his first sip - knowing Amanda was probably doing the same. Dirk pulled a face of discomfort and curiosity as he swallowed. Todd enjoyed watching the small tics in his eyebrows. Dirk would give an overly expressive response to absolutely any stimulus. Watching him eat frosting was a particular favourite.

Eventually, Dirk reached some internal conclusion and shrugged, apparently satisfied enough to take a larger gulp.

Todd saw Amanda looking at him oddly, but couldn't work out why.

The conversation moved to music, then work, then Amanda and Farah got into a deep discussion about a TV cop show they were both racing each other through on Netflix that neither Todd (who didn't watch TV) or Dirk (who exclusively watched news channels) could follow.

Dirk swilled the last of the liquid in his first beer in the bottle with a flick of his wrist, frowning at it.

'I don't understand bottled beer,' Dirk announced to Todd. 'You can't do half the fun stuff you can do with a good pint. Also this stuff is as weak as piss.'

Todd laughed. 'Jesus, Dirk.'

'What?'

'I just - never would have picked you as an alcohol aficionado.'

Dirk rolled his eyes, mockingly. 'I know that you and Amanda seem to believe that I lived in a mythical fairy kingdom before arriving in Seattle and am entirely unaware of human culture, but I am actually a man of the world, Todd.'

Todd laughed harder; he couldn't help it.

Dirk finished the rest of his beer in one mouthful and scowled.

Farah broke off her own conversation to shoot Todd a look.

'Don't tease Dirk,' she hissed. 

'I can take care of myself!' Dirk yelped, tapping the table with the balls of his hands. 'May I remind all of you that I have saved multiple lives - and been injured multiple times - all of which should have established myself as a perfectly capable and able individual who does not need to be treated like a child!'

'Dirk it's not like that -' Farah said, soothingly. She looked around the table for support. Amanda nodded along. Todd focused on his drinking. 'We just care about you. We're a big family here, remember?'

Amanda made a noise of agreement. 'Yeah - like Todd looks after me -'

'He's your brother!' Dirk interrupted.

'And Amanda looks out for me -' Todd chipped in.

'She's your sister! And - and, you both have your disease thingy,' Dirk said. Todd frowned, knowing he should be offended, but too used to Dirk's non-intentional insults to find it within him. Dirk was gesturing wildly with his hands now: 'Anyway - neither of you look after Farah in the same way!'

'Farah doesn't need looking after,' Amanda said, simply. 'She's badass.'

'Aw! Amanda!' Farah smiled, knocking shoulders with her.

'Why aren't I badass, then?' Dirk pouted. 

Todd screwed up a napkin and threw it at him. Dirk screamed at it until he realised it wasn't going to harm him. Todd almost bust a lung laughing.

Dirk stared fixedly at Todd until something clicked within him. He gave a wolfish half-grin and stood.

'Fine. Clearly, this requires a challenge to prove my badassitude,' Dirk said, pointing upwards with one finger. 'Remain as you are - just as disbelieving and wrong.'

Dirk jumped over a chair and slid through the crowd, heading to the bar.

Once he was out of earshot, Farah leaned across the table and smacked Todd in the chest.

'Hey, ow!' Todd frowned, rubbing his chest. Farah didn't know her own strength.

'Stop being a dick,' Farah hissed. 'You know he's sensitive about being... sensitive.'

'...So I'm supposed to be more sensitive in response?' Todd asked, in voice which highlighted how stupid the idea was. 'This is all Amanda's fault anyway. Do you want soda?' Todd mimicked, falsetto.

Amanda shrugged. 'I was just trying to make him more comfortable. This isn't his scene.'

'How do you know it's not his scene?' Farah asked. 'Have you ever asked him?'

'It's just obvious,' Todd said, backing up his sister. 'I mean come on, Farah. Just look at the way he dresses. Several different shades of the same pleather jacket doesn't exactly scream "I enjoy underground rock".'

'You are both unbelievably presumptuous,' Farah announced. 'People can surprise you. And you two should both know - if anyone's going to surprise you, it's going to be Dirk.'

As if on cue, Dirk landed a tray on their table with a thump. 

'Welcome to British drinking. This is actual beer,' Dirk said, matter-of-fact and extremely proud. 'Because it's in pint glasses -' Dirk passed four glasses of foaming beer out around the table, '- although admittedly American pints are smaller, so I've got more of them to make up for it. And we know it is actual beer because it came out of a tap and is unpronounceably German. And this - wait a minute -'

They sat in silence as Dirk dug deeply into the pocket of his jeans. After seconds of searching, Dirk's face lit up in triumph. He pulled out a small brassy coin and placed it between two fingers. He put it in front of Todd's face.

'This is the Queen,' Dirk explained, pointing at the coin. 'And you have to save her from drowning.'

'What?' Todd said. Dirk dropped the coin into Todd's beer. 'Oh, Dirk, that's gross, I'm not -'

'Save her, Todd!' Dirk shouted, pointing at Todd's beer.

'I'm not going to -'

'She's going to drown, Todd!' Dirk sounded anguished. 'Save my British Queen!'

'Yeah, come on Todd!' Amanda joined in. Farah began to drum the table with her fingers.

Soon enough they were all chanting, clapping and banging on the table.

Todd, defeated, began to drink.

*

English drinking, it turned out, was utterly terrifying.

Todd's head was swimming. He couldn't remember how many times he had been bullied into finishing what seemed like jugs of liquid to the tune of some goddamn song. 

After the second trip to the bathroom, Todd stumbled back to their table. Amanda was nearly catatonic with giggles. Farah was desperately trying to hold her head up on one hand, looking very green. Dirk was smugly sipping away on a large glass of something amber and foaming.

Todd slid into his seat and winced as Dirk pushed a glass closer to him.

'Is there some rule for this one, or can I just drink it like a normal person?' Todd asked, somewhat pleadingly.

'It's water,' Dirk said, smiling.

Todd nodded and took a mouthful. It was cool and refreshing and reminded him uncomfortably of how bad the hangover was likely to be. 'Dirk, I promise to never underestimate your drinking again.'

'Thank you. It deeply offended the Scottish part of me.'

'You're not Scottish.'

'My name is,' Dirk reminded him, wagging his finger accusingly. 'And one's name is a vital part of oneself. I picked it, I should know. Just after university. So there.'

'So that's where "Dirk" comes from,' Amanda said, slurring slightly. She was also drinking water. 'What, did you go to college there or something?'

'No; I went to Cambridge. St Cedd's College,' Dirk was smiling proudly.

'Never heard of it,' Todd said, drinking more water.

'A majority of people seem not to,' Dirk nodded, agreeing. 'However, I can still confidently say it exists, as much as things exist anyway. In fact, it was possibly there where I became so adept with my drinking. You don't last long at St. Cedd's without being able to hold your beer. Not that I lasted long there anyway... but it was nothing to do with my alcohol consumption. Or, at least, not directly -'

'Is that where you learned the Queen one?' Todd asked, interrupting what was threatening to become one of the more extreme Dirk rambles. 'Instead of flip cup, you bastards put filthy money into your drinks?'

Dirk shook his head. 'No, I don't - actually, wait. Yes, yes! Yes, I think I did learn that one at Cedd's,' Dirk grinned, as if remembering something funny. 'Steve Mander would have taught me. He was always teaching me things about alcohol and royalty -'

'Steve?'

'My ex,' Dirk said, casually. 'He was my roommate at St Cedd's. I think he was reading History...'

Todd blinked. The words that Dirk had said were screaming that they were important and that Todd should examine them more closely. However, most of the world was blurry now, and Todd couldn't quite place which of the words were important.

'Ex?' Todd asked, as if in a dream.

Amanda kicked him under the table, hard. Todd yelped and scowled at her.

Dirk didn't seem to notice and continued.

'Yes, we dated in first year. And part of the second year before everything...' Dirk tailed off. He was silent for a few seconds, then swallowed and coughed. 'Yes, anyway. Sorry, what were we talking about?'

'Ex?' Todd repeated, louder. That was definitely the word - the word that required more examination and more explanation.

Dirk opened his mouth but - at that exact, wholly convenient moment - Farah threw up over the table, and the conversation was entirely forgotten.

*

Until the next morning.

'He definitely said ex?' Todd asked Amanda for the second time, walking down the street towards the Holistic office.

Amanda was clutching a Starbucks in one hand, her laptop thrown over her shoulder. She had been granted the title of Receptionist-Assistant-Type-Person and, like all good receptionists, went to the office whenever she felt like it to do her duty of pretending to do work.

'Yes, Todd,' Amanda replied, bored. 'I don't know why you think this is a big deal.'

'It is a big deal... isn't it?' Todd wasn't sure.

'What? That Dirk once upon a time had an boyfriend or that he's gay?'

'Well... both!'

Amanda boggled at him. 'Dude. This is really homophobic.'

'I'm not being homophobic! I'm just saying that... I just didn't know - if I had known -'

'What? You would have treated him any different?'

'No!' Todd shouted, startling an old woman who was passing by them. He lowered his voice: 'No, of course I wouldn't have.'

'Then I don't see the problem. I thought you knew anyway.'

'How?'

'Well, you know...' Amanda trailed off. Todd stared at her to let her know that no, in fact, he did not know. Amanda continued: 'He's... you know. Camp.'

'Now who's homophobic!'

'It's not just that. He's never once brought up a woman around us. Take Farah - any guy who even passes her in the street gives her a -' Amanda looked Todd up and down, then gave Todd a big, leery thumbs up. She then shot Todd an accusing look. 'Even you did that.'

Todd shifted, a little guilty. Originally, Todd had thought he should go after Farah and that they might even make a cute couple together. However, that thought had changed over the cases they had handled from lust to abject fear and then a huge, massive respect. Now, she was almost like another sister - albeit a sister who could easily beat him up.

Amanda continued: 'The only things Dirk ever says to me about women is that they either look suspicious or look suspiciously un-suspicious. Plus, he says things about men. He looks at them too. The way guys look at Farah... the way guys look at me.' Todd's face reflexively went to a mix of disgusted and angry, although Amanda didn't seem to realise. 'Have you really never, ever noticed?'

"...your life a mundane, unvarying slog full of unfulfilling jobs, shallow depression and boring, boring sex..."

"He's not nearly as good-looking as people say... Actually, it's kind of a funny story - !"

Several lingering touches and unnecessary pats... on the shoulders and arms... hands... 

'I guess I wasn't looking for it,' Todd said, still confused. Something still wasn't right. 

'Does it - does it matter?' Amanda asked, her voice more concerned. 

'Just - how come I didn't know, alright? I mean - it really doesn't matter. It really, really doesn't. But he's -' Todd sighed, rolling his eyes and disbelieving the words in his mouth. 'He's my best friend. And I didn't know he was gay? Makes me a bit shit, that's all.'

'Don't beat yourself up.' Amanda put her hand on Todd's shoulder, comfortingly. 'I didn't work it out for myself, really.'

'Huh?'

Amanda rolled her eyes. 'Look, I wasn't going to tell you because it's a bit... Well. Gross. Kinda. Doesn't matter. Look, Gripps told me. You know they used to feed off Dirk?' Todd nodded, unsure whether he was entirely okay remembering that. 'Well, apparently he... tasted better under emotional stress. And lust is a big part of emotional stress, you know? So they kind of learned what situations were likely to get him hot. Turns out, yeah. Those situations were a bit... gay.'

Todd stopped in the street. 'I don't know what to do with that information,' Todd said, honestly. 'Especially as those... guys... are now feeding regularly off my sister.'

'Don't worry about it,' Amanda said in a sing-song voice, sounding entirely too pleased with herself.

*

They didn't have a case yet, which meant Dirk was mostly preoccupied with designing flyers (We solve the whole crime! We find the whole person! Email today for the whole solution to your problem. Time-travelling and soul-switching a speciality!) and Todd was on Facebook.

Amanda and Farah had gone for more coffee, which left the two boys working somewhat silently across from each other at each of their desks. Dirk's desk was in the centre of the room, the one the 'clients' would naturally gravitate towards, whereas Todd's was off to the side. 

Todd's mouse hovered over a suggested advert. 

Meet singles in your area!

There were three toggle options underneath.

I'm interested in:

women [X]

men [ ]

both [ ]

Was that the universe, giving him a sign to bring it up? Everything was connected, apparently.

Would could he say? Hey, Dirk, you came out to me last night after you made me drink three lukewarm buckets of shitty German beer, do you want to talk about it? Found any hot men lately? Why exactly do you touch me so much?

Todd's cheeks burned as he imagined raising the conversation. Would Dirk be embarrassed? Todd didn't imagine so. Dirk would dodge questions, but usually when they were about him being psychic (he would always emphatically deny it and then burst out of whatever room he was in if pressed), or about the whole Project Icarus thing. Last night, he seemed almost happy reminiscing about... what was his name?

Steve. Steve Mander. Who he met at St. Cedd's college, Cambridge.

Todd realised he had the makings of a Google search term.

He looked at Dirk, still frowning at what were probably fonts and colour combinations on his laptop, and covertly opened Google. 

There were several hits. One was from Cambridge University. Steven Mander was on a list of graduates for 2005. He had apparently majored in History. Three more were from the same website chain.

There were no pictures, which annoyed Todd. Who the hell wasn't on Facebook nowadays, spreading their faces all over the world for American stalkers to examine?

Todd tried 'Dirk Gently St. Cedd's Cambridge University' and received nothing relevant, just some bad hits off 'Gently'. Then Todd remembered that Dirk hadn't always gone by Dirk.

Hadn't Riggins called him by another name during the Project Icarus affair? Svlad, wasn't it?

Luckily, Svlad was not a common name. And once Todd had worked out how to spell it, he received actual hits.

Google didn't give up a list of graduates this time, but rather a tiny, archived news article from The Cambridge Student from 2004.

Exam Infamy - Student Expelled, Jailed

Cambridge University has confirmed that student Svlad Cjelli (formally St. Cedd's College, Philosophy) has been sent down after a successful conviction of theft for stealing exam papers.

Cjelli, 20, who had claimed that he had independently produced the exam papers whilst "meditating under hypnosis", has been sentenced to six months in jail.  He had been providing the papers at a cost to fellow students, several of whom are currently under investigation by the police. 

When asked to give a statement to TCS, Cjelli insisted that he was "not psychic", which TCS had not even remotely insinuated.

Cjelli's expulsion marks the first time a student at Cambridge University has been sent down since 1996.

Todd couldn't believe it.

He looked up at Dirk - the Dirk he knew - who had his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he tried to connect his laptop to the cloud printer with several large, stabbing key presses.

Dirk was not an exam-paper-stealing person. Let alone someone who would steal exam papers and then sell them. He had to have been caught up in something bigger than himself.

Didn't Dirk say last night that his relationship with Steve ended after something happened? Maybe Steve had been the ringleader - and made Dirk the fall guy. That seemed so much more likely.

Todd suddenly found it a lot easier to dislike Steve Mander, whoever the hell the fucker was.

'Ah, perfect!' Dirk suddenly exclaimed, shocking Todd out of his murderous thoughts. 

The printer churned out something almost but not quite entirely yellow. Dirk bounced across the office and held it up proudly.

'Good, isn't it?' Dirk said. 'Really catches the eye! Oh dear -' he said, looking at the printer. 'It appears we're out of ink.'

'It might be cheaper if we printed them on yellow paper if you want them like that,' Todd suggested, looking at the article and musing whether he should bring it up.

'Yes, perhaps,' Dirk agreed. 'Although, we will need the right shade of yellow. I am entirely convinced that this exact colour combination is what we need in order to obtain our next client. I am absolutely assured of it, in fact.'

'Mm.'

'Todd? Is everything alright?' Dirk was looking at him carefully. 

Todd nodded, a bit too frantically. 'Uh huh. I was just thinking -'

'About what?' 

Todd hesitated. He could say nothing, let Dirk bound on and spend more of Farah's money on reams of sunflower-yellow paper, or he could say something and clear the air. Dirk was looking at him cautiously. Todd wondered whether Dirk thought he was harbouring something over last night - that maybe Dirk didn't know that Todd was cool with him being gay. That thought worried Todd so much it pushed him over the edge.

'I just wanted to thank you,' Todd blurted.

Dirk grinned, all sunny smile. 'Oh, really? How nice! Wait -' Dirk looked confused. 'For what?'

'For telling me - for letting me know -' Todd paused, regrouping. 'I didn't know until last night that you were gay and I wanted to thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. It means a lot.'

Dirk was silent, his face uncharacteristically blank. He opened his mouth to say something but then appeared to reconsider and closed it again. Then he opened his mouth again.

'You didn't know I was gay?'

'No.'

'Oh,' Dirk said. He chewed on his lower lip. 'You would make an absolutely terrible detective on your own, Todd,' Dirk chided, happily. 'You are very lucky to be the assistant to someone like me who will be able to teach you such skills so you do not require stupid things like confessions to enable you to determine the solutions to even the most complicated puzzles -'

Dirk was off on one again, talking about the interconnectedness of all things and how the 'regular' police had it all wrong and there was no point to following things like clues or evidence when you could extrapolate the whole universe from the dust motes in a sun beam or ketchup splattered on a hot dog bun.

*

That should have been that and the story could very well have ended there, with Dirk, Todd, Farah and Amanda returning to the little normality they had with the extra dimension that Dirk was gay and that Todd was steadfastly okay with it.

But, it refused to be so.

That night, Todd couldn't sleep. He had opened the article on his phone and kept reading it, the blue glare lighting up the otherwise dark room. He felt like he supposed Dirk did when he got a hunch. Something wasn't right, and Todd couldn't concentrate until he worked out what that was.

Todd had googled Dirk's old full name - Svlad Cjelli - to no avail. The CIA had probably wiped the internet clean. Todd supposed the only reason the Cambridge article had survived was because it had been put on the internet as a scan of the printed 2004 edition paper, over ten years after the incident had taken place.

Todd wasn't even sure what he was looking for. Old pictures of Dirk? Some proof that Dirk was that Svlad? It seemed too unlikely it wasn't him - meditating under hypnosis was very much something that Dirk would think to do and that added to a protest against being psychic made it pretty obvious they were one and the same person.

He turned off his phone and put it on the bedside.

He flipped over on one side.

He flipped over onto the other.

He beat his pillows with his hands and tried to get comfy.

He wondered if Dirk was sleeping.

How did Dirk sleep?

Did Dirk sleep with that bastard Steve?

Todd felt himself blush. Of course Dirk slept with Steve. They would have been what, eighteen? Nineteen? He remembered himself at nineteen, with Tracy Carmine. They had fucked in the backseat of her dad's corvette and Todd had split the condom. Todd had spent two weeks in abject terror that he had knocked Tracy up until her period came.

Dirk wouldn't fuck in the back of a corvette. Dirk would fuck in a bed. A Cambridge bed. What did those look like? Were they like dorm rooms? Todd thought he had read somewhere that British universities had separate room for each student, but Todd was imagining something similar to his dorm at college - two beds, everything in the dark, something alt rocky crooning from an open Macbook.

Dirk, lying on a bed, his breath stuttering in his chest. His thick eyelashes flickering. Someone above him, their breath scattering over his face.

Dirk's eyes would be hungry, wanting. He would have been staring at the other man's mouth. Biting at his own lips. Licking them wet.

He wanted to be kissed. Dirk needed to be kissed.

Why wasn't he being kissed?

'Todd -' Dirk's voice, hungry and desperate. His hair messy. 'Please -'

Todd inhaled. Something in his mind began to scream at him to pay attention to his thoughts. Todd was lost in the image he created.

His hand twitched over his boxers. When Todd brought a hand around himself to squeeze his hardening dick, the Dirk in his mind gave a desperate moan.

'Fuck -' Dirk swearing. Dirk didn't swear enough; not for how much Todd loved it. 'Please, Todd. Touch me.'

Todd shuffled out of his boxers and gripped his dick tightly. Dirk moaned, high-pitched and needy in Todd's ears. Todd could feel the sweat of his own skin underneath his hand.

What would Dirk's dick feel like?

Dirk's legs, wrapped around the small of Todd's back. Todd reaching between them, gripping Dirk's dick and his own, bringing them together and sliding against each others, hot with sweat and need.

Todd's mouth hovering over Dirk's so close but not quite touching, hearing little noises coming out of Dirk's mouth as Todd moved. 

Dirk's arms wrapped around Todd's neck. His long, lithe body bending forward. Dirk's hot breath over Todd's mouth as he slowly pumped them together.

'Please - please - please -' Dirk babbling, desperate. 

Wanting to watch Dirk unravel underneath his hands. Wanting to watch Dirk's face slowly open up as he was brought over the edge -

Todd came into his covers with a groan.

When he opened his eyes, he knew he was fucked.

*

possibly gay with best friend

30 years old and im gay now apparently

am i gay

what is gay

psychic energy gay side effects??

God, Google was fucking useless.

Todd knew he had to talk to Farah. 

Amanda would be too embarrassing and... And, well. That was the extent of his social group, really.

They sat down at the diner and ordered breakfast. Farah was nice enough not to push what Todd had asked her to meet him for, nor point out that Todd was probably not looking entirely brilliant after an entirely sleepless night.

After Todd had swallowed his coffee and asked for a refill he felt slightly more human and could blurt out what was now burning so hard in his chest that it felt like, if he kept it it any longer, it would explode.

'I think I'm gay for Dirk.'

Farah, to her credit, swallowed the mouthful of orange juice in her mouth rather than spitting it all over Todd's face. She did look slightly more redder when she put the glass down and coughed a few times.

'Okay...' Farah said, slowly. 'That wasn't what I was expecting. Mostly because I haven't heard 'gay for' since junior high.'

'I had a dream -'

'- Don't tell me the dream -'

'- and I think I'm gay for him.'

Farah breathed out through her mouth as if collecting herself, then looked at Todd carefully. She studied him for a moment. 'And how does that make you feel?'

'Confused. Angry. Pissed off. Sad.'

'Sad?'

Todd was quiet for a bit. The waitress dropped off bacon and eggs with a smile far brighter than Todd felt he deserved at that moment. 

'I don't want things to change between us. We're good friends.'

'Nothing has to change, if you don't act on your feelings,' Farah said, prodding her eggs with a fork. 'And if you do act on your feelings, that doesn't mean you can't stay friends.'

'You're remarkably unsurprised that I'm gay now,' Todd said, suspiciously.

Farah gave him a critical look. 'I was bodyguard for a millennial all through her teenage years; sexual fluidity is something I'm very well aware of. Do you know about the Kinsey Scale?' Todd shook his head. 'It basically means there's a sliding scale from heterosexual to homosexual and you can be anywhere on the spectrum.'

'So, I'm bisexual?'

'Yes, or mostly heterosexual with the occasional homosexual relationship, or visa versa. Have you liked men before?'

'No!' Todd replied, realising too late that he sounded incredibly offended by the accusation. 'I mean. I mean, no. I don't think so. I never really thought about it. I was more concerned with the band, you see... and then Amanda got sick, and there wasn't much time -'

'So it's something about Dirk then?'

Todd thought about Dirk. He thought about other relationships he had in the past. He thought about certain male lead singers who inspired him and who he thought about a lot. He thought about his ex-girlfriends. He thought about Stacey and then one of Stacey's brothers, who he used to play Mario Kart with, and they spent so much time together that Stacey broke up with him and he was more devastated that he'd never see Louis again than with the breakup itself.

'I think Dirk - Dirk's the first time - Dirk's the first time a guy has just been... available,' Todd said slowly, working it out as he spoke. 'And I do like him. He's - he's great.'

Farah squeezed Todd's hand supportively and returned to her eggs.

'I hope you know you're paying for breakfast,' she said.

'Well, you pay me, so technically you're paying for breakfast.'

'...Fuck.' 

Chapter Text

So, then there were four extra dimensions in Todd's life: Dirk was gay, Todd was steadfastly okay with it, Todd was kind of gay and Todd was specifically kind of gay for Dirk.

It turned out that none of those added dimensions had any effect on the day-to-day running (or, more accurately 'running away from, usually under a hail of gunfire') of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.

After the successful deployment of the flyers, six months past by under seven new cases. The seven new cases turned out to actually be four interlinked cases. Then - finally - the four of them realised that everything was actually just one big case, which plastered a smug smirk on Dirk's face and caused Farah to tear her hair out trying to work out who should foot the bill. Everything came together as one giant clusterfuck of a shitting disaster that Dirk would refer to later as 'That Very Minor Swedish Fish Thing'.

Everything was, as always, interconnected.

The upshot of this was that they spent the summer in California. After two weeks of stakeouts, running from some three letter acronym police force (CIA? FBI? Todd couldn't be sure anymore) and many, many visits to chicken sheds, they had what normal people would refer to as "a break".

Farah was recovering from a twenty-four hour straight stakeout in her hotel room. Amanda was desperately trying to convince Vogel to go to the Emergency Room for a nasty infection in his gunshot wound, which the Three were entirely convinced that he could "power through" unaided.

As Dirk still wasn't entirely happy being in a contained area with the Rowdy Three after being their succubus for so long, and no one could quite "recover" when Dirk was attempting to help, Todd had dragged Dirk to a pier near Downtown Ventura. He hoped that the sand, sea and perhaps a colourful plastic bucket might distract Dirk from the infectious excitement of the case.

They were sitting on a wooden bench on one of the less crowded piers, watching the sea. Todd was lightly dozing (he was running on fumes) and Dirk was working his way through a tub of ice cream with a tiny plastic spoon.

'I have a theory -' Dirk began.

'That everything is interconnected,' Todd mumbled with a grin.

Dirk continued as if there was no interruption - positing his theory to the seagulls. Todd blearily opened his eyes. Dirk looked animated, his brain entirely engaged, gesturing wildly with his pink, plastic spoon.

He almost looked like a real detective - some facet of Sherlock Holmes' ever-inquiring mind in the creases in Dirk eyebrows. Todd still hadn't decided just how much of holistic detection Dirk was actively engaged in. Did he have any say in the way the universe unfurled around him? Was it all just happening, with Dirk at the epicentre?

The hunches were too accurate to be coincidences - Todd was convinced that Dirk was psychic, no matter how many times he denied it - but Dirk never seemed to understand exactly what the hunches meant.

Did it matter that Dirk didn't know what he was doing, as long as he did it and continued to do it? Didn't Dirk say once that, if he didn't solve the cases, the cases were never solved?

Todd wondered what cases had fallen into that uncomfortable catch-all - what Dirk had failed to solve and what, therefore, was left out there tangled like a set of iPhone headphones in a dresser. Dirk usually threw himself full-force into the cases - tightly emotionally involved not so much with the people the cases involved but more with the fast, desperate path towards the solution.

Dirk would be devastated if he lost a case to the universe like that. He would be like a dog chasing after a faked-out ball - still running after it, then skidding still with the heart-stopping realisation that nothing could be gained.

'- and, of course the critical part of this is the sheer, unfathomable amount of gelatin that Mr. Ambrose had - supposedly - consumed before his death -'

'Dirk?' Todd interrupted. Dirk didn't notice. 'Dirk!' Dirk cut off and looked across, his expression still manic. 'Do you think you should just... chill out for a bit?'

'I'm on a case!' Dirk sounded aghast.

'We're on a case -' Todd clarified. 'And we've got four hours before we're supposed to meet up with whatsername the chemist which you could spend, I don't know, doing some human things like breathing and eating -'

'I am eating!' Dirk waggled the plastic tub around.

'I mean eating something with vague nutritional benefit, not the steady stream of Twinkies, Reeces and ice cream that makes up 90% of your diet.'

Dirk's nose scrunched. 'Surely not 90% of my diet...' He sounded entirely unsure, trailing off.

'When's the last time you ate a vegetable?'

After ten seconds of complete silence, Dirk was defeated.

*

They went to a waterside seafood restaurant just a few minutes from the pier. They were sat at a round, plush booth with interestingly low blue lighting. Dirk bumped up close to Todd and Todd's traitorous pulse elevated a few notches.

The waiter was charmed by Dirk's accent, but not so much by Dirk's insistence for 'At least one of every vegetable you have'. 

'That should do me for at least the next few months,' Dirk announced, pleased, as the waiter walked away.

'I'm not sure that's how it works.'

Even as Dirk sipped on some water, he was bouncing on his seat. He seemed to have an unending source of energy. Todd was far happier to try and relax properly, looking out of the window. There was an old couple, holding hands as they passed by. The sky was deeply blue and almost cloudless. This could almost count as a vacation, if there weren't quite so many exploding chickens.

They talked about the case, because it was really too interesting to not talk about it, but Todd felt like they were still missing too many pieces of the puzzle - it didn't seem like they could solve it yet. Dirk didn't seem to realise this and kept trapping himself in circular thoughts - if A is true then B is true then A is true then B is true etc. Todd interjected occasionally to point that out, but Dirk would respond by moving onto a C and a D in the exact same fashion. 

Eventually, the food arrived and Dirk stopped talking long enough to shovel his mountain of vegetables into his mouth. Todd watched him eat with the stunned silence of watching a lion devour a gazelle.

'Slow down; you'll choke,' Todd warned.

Dirk swallowed a painfully unchewed mouthful. 'Sorry! Sorry. It's quite a habit of mine. When I see food I can eat, I just have to eat it. Habit of being starved.'

'Starved?' Todd worried his lower lip. 'You were starved? Was that at -' Todd lowered his voice, dipping closer to Dirk across the table. 'Blackwing?'

Dirk ferociously shook his head. 'No, no! At St. Cedd's. We had formal dinners and they forced us to wait through prayers and announcements and unnecessarily long renditions of eighteenth century poetry. By the time they were done, the food was usually stone cold. Not that I'm convinced being heated would have improved the food much.'

'Oh,' Todd said, slightly annoyed that Dirk wasn't going to reveal more of his mysterious past, but quite glad that his best friend had never actually been starved. 'You had formal dinners? Gowns and the whole thing?' Dirk nodded through a mouthful of baby carrots. 'That's... insane. At my college it was all pizza, french fries and plastic trays -'

'Why on earth would you eat a plastic tray?'

'- I think if they tried to convince me the only time I could eat was by dressing up and sitting down I would have dropped out a hell of a lot earlier.'

'Ah, well, that's why the English are best. We're very willing to put up with an inordinate amount of torture in the dignified pursuit of etiquette.'

'That was what college was to you, then? Dignified torture?'

'It's an institution to spend three years in hell in the early part of your adulthood; it makes everything else seem far more nice in comparison!'

'Cambridge must teach that quick. You didn't have three years, and you seem to think everything's nice.'

There was silence for a bit. Todd looked up from his steak to see that Dirk was staring at him. He had a puzzled, slightly upset expression on his face. He wasn't eating.

'How did you know I didn't complete?' Dirk asked, his voice purposefully level.

'Huh?' Todd asked, swallowing his mouthful. 

'How did you know I left? I've never told you - told anyone - that I had to leave before finishing my degree.'

Todd tried to fight back the urge to panic. Hot dread was rising in his throat.

'You must've.'

'No. Never.'

Todd shrugged, trying to act cool. 'I don't know, then.' He looked down and away, trying to concentrate on his food. Act casual. 'So, do you think Amanda's at the hospital with the Three yet? I'd like to see the mess they'll make to the Emergency Department. Blood and gore everywhere. At least they're probably used to it?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Todd saw Dirk put down his fork and lean back in his seat. He was staring critically at Todd, his fingers tented underneath his nose. It was as if Todd had turned into a puzzle and Dirk was trying to solve him.

Todd wiped his mouth with a napkin. He balled it up and sighed at himself.

'I'm sorry.'

'What have you done?' Dirk sounded worried, panicked even.

Todd worked his tongue around his mouth, buying time. Trying to stretch out the seconds before the admission. 

'I googled you. Well, not you - I googled Svlad Cjelli -' Dirk's eyes went wide with panic. 'There was nothing! I promise, nothing. Well, apart from - there was this article about - about what happened to you in Cambridge. About being kicked out. And - and I know I shouldn't've done it. I know you like to keep your past in your past and that's fine, I don't mind, but I wanted -' Todd stopped talking, not wanting to admit the truth - that he wanted to see what kind of boyfriend Dirk had. It sounded so petty and small against the larger breach of trust. 'I'm really sorry.'

There was silence. Dirk was looking at the table, staring into it with laser intensity. Todd thought he could hear Dirk's brain short-circuiting.

The waiter approached the table with a beaming, wide smile of someone who was supported mostly by tips. Todd flipped him the double bird before he could open his mouth. The waiter spun on a heel with the same frozen grin and trotted away.

'Dirk?' Todd tried, once the silence overwhelmed him.

'Svlad Jelly.'

'What?'

'My -' Dirk ground his teeth. He sighed deeply and met Todd's eyes again. Todd felt such relief that Dirk could still look at him that he briefly forgot to feel like absolute shit. 'That name. It's not pronounced how you pronounced it. Not "Selly" it's "juh-elly". The "juh" in Gently it's - it's the same.'

'Oh.'

More silence. Todd could have filled a bathtub with it. Or a swimming pool.

'I thought it sounded cool.' Dirk's voice was painfully small.

'It does sound cool.' Todd hated himself. 'Dirk, I'm - I'm really sorry.'

'You didn't find anything else?' Accusatory.

'No. Absolutely, one-hundred-percent, categorically no.' Todd would have crossed his heart if it wouldn't have looked so strange. Then he realised that strange was the new normal, and crossed his heart anyway.

Dirk still looked perturbed but he didn't look abjectly terrified anymore. Todd took that as a step in the right direction.

'I'm surprised that the CIA haven't realised there's a record of me on the internet yet,' Dirk said, playing with his food, burying the carrots underneath a mound of potatoes. 'They're usually very good with sponging. Expunging. Both sponging and expunging.'

'Well it's not really a record - just an article.'

'What does it say?'

Todd had the crazy thought of bringing out his phone to let Dirk read it. But that would be admitting that Todd had bookmarked it, and Todd wasn't sure whether Dirk could handle that. Todd knew it pretty much off by heart anyway.

'It said you were expelled for stealing exam papers.'

Dirk rolled his eyes and largely sighed. 'Completely inaccurate. Entirely, factually untrue. I simply studied past exam papers and saw if there were any patterns which emerged. They just happened to emerge when I was sleeping - sleep talking, ' Dirk clarified. 'So, under the established procedure of automatic writing under hypnosis, I could piece together the entirety of the highest likelihood exam questions for the first year final exams. There was no psychic intuition involved!'

'I didn't imply there was,' Todd reminded him.

Dirk scowled at him. 'Yes, well, unfortunately it appears that by denying you have psychic ability - which I do NOT have by the way - seems to be a sure-fire way to get everyone to simply assume that you do! No matter how often I protest!'

'Why did you even do it, though?' Todd asked.

Dirk was stopped in his tracks: 'Do what?'

'Do - piece together the exam questions. Why did you do it?'

'Money,' Dirk said, matter-of-factly.

Todd was taken aback. Dirk had never shown any want for money - other than pound coins, for homicidal British drinking games - in the entire time Todd had knew him.

He remembered the lottery ticket - what Dirk had insisted when he, himself, was entirely flat out broke.

'But you said - you said the universe provided -?'

'The universe didn't want me at St. Cedd's,' Dirk said, bitterly. He crossed his arms like a petulant teenager. 'That was clear enough when I was carted out of the college grounds in a Black Maria half way through second year. St. Cedd's - Cambridge - that entire everything of that was one of the times I decided to defy the whims of the universe and Project -' Dirk cut off, swallowing his words. He shook his head, clearing it, and continued. 'And defying the universe tends towards me being entirely broke. It's not cheap trying to support yourself without -' Dirk cut off again. 'Anyway. The more exam questions I produced, the more people would buy me drinks and... well, feed me. They'd slip me a twenty and I'd make sure to sleep without my head in a pillow so I could mumble better. And Steve -' Todd's pulse raised slightly. 'Steve would write it all down and then dish it out to anyone who had paid.'

Bastard. Todd knew Steve was behind it. That man was worse than Hitler.

'Couldn't Steve support you?'

Dirk scrunched his face, as if this was an odd line of questioning. Todd realised it was.

'I didn't want him to,' Dirk said, slowly. Dirk clearly didn't understand the motivation behind the question.

'Oh,' Todd replied. 'Well. It's still not -' Todd forced himself to drop the angle. He was digging his own grave continuing. 'Look, I'm sorry you had to do that. I mean, you know what I did for money -' Todd felt hot shame creep up around his shoulders. 'So I get - I get it. Using your natural gift -'

'- for accurate assumption making! -'

'- yeah, sure. That... natural gift. Not the psychic thing that you don't have. I mean, I probably would have done the same.'

The hot shame that Todd had felt on his shoulders was now making its way around his neck. Todd pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, trying to get some air onto his skin, but it was still burning. Was he really that embarrassed? 

'Yes, well,' Dirk shook his head, dismissively. 'Anyway, it's all in the past now. And with Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency now entirely focused on the universe's whims I am sure that I will never need to do such things for money again -'

Burning. Fire. So hot.

'- the universe will insist upon it, and the universe will provide. Through Farah, most probably -'

Todd looked down at himself. He knew what he was going to see before he saw it, but that didn't make it less terrifying.

'- Todd? Todd, are you -?'

He was on fire. His entire body was engulfed in flames. His clothes were alight. His skin was scorching.

He screamed, deathly hard, unbelievably loud even in his own ears.

'Todd! Todd - good heavens, where's the bloody fire extinguisher -?'

Pain. Black pain. Unbelievable, overwhelming pain. He bowed forward, bringing his hands into his chest, crunching himself smaller as if that would help but - of course - it didn't. 

He could smell his own flesh cooking.

He could feel his bones shattering.

'Breathe, Todd - just breathe.'

I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead...

*

A clock was ticking. It was incessant. Loud. 

Todd wanted to sleep. It was the only thing he wanted.

Todd turned over, opened his eyes.

Dirk's face on the pillow beside him. Todd swallowed his surprise. Dirk was seemingly asleep, his mouth slightly open. His face was relaxed and he held his hands tight underneath his chin, clasped together. He was only wearing his shirt, sans tie, sleeping on the sheets rather than under them.

Todd felt instantly better. Warmth - good warmth - flooded his fingers.

Todd recognised their motel room's shitty wallpaper. The room was a double, and they were on Dirk's bed (the one closest to the window, which Dirk had shotgunned by jumping on it when they had checked in a week ago).

Todd felt himself under the covers. He was half clothed - t-shirt, his jeans had been taken of and no shoes, but socks.

He was also, surprisingly, covered in dried foam.

It came back in a trickle. A pararibulitis attack. He must have passed out. Dirk must have brought him here.

Dirk snuffled in his sleep. Todd saw that his eyes were red. It looked as if he had been crying. Dirk cried a lot - for happy and sad reasons, or just when he saw something unbelievably cute and didn't have the vocabulary to explain it sufficiently - but it broke Todd's heart to guess that Dirk had been crying over him.

Todd remembered how terrified he had been when Amanda had her first attack in that dive bar, rushing to meet her at the hospital like her knight in shining armour, Amanda looking at him like he could solve everything although he had been lying from day one. 

He had definitely got what he deserved. Dirk, on the other hand, did not deserve anything like this.

'Thank you,' Todd murmured, too low to wake him up.

Todd shut his eyes and drifted back into sleep.

*

When Todd woke again, Dirk was still asleep but he had rolled onto his stomach. Todd winced when he moved, his bladder full. He gently slipped out from below the thin, scratchy sheets and stumbled towards the bathroom.

When he came back in, Dirk was sitting up. His hair looked like a small explosion. He looked bleary, punch-drunk with sleep, but his tiredness seemed to vanish when he saw Todd.

'Todd. Oh! Oh, god -' Dirk scrambled, panicked. 'I'm so sorry - I must have fallen asleep -!'

'It's fine. Stay in bed. I'm getting back in too.'

Whether that was weird or not, Todd didn't know. All he knew was he wanted to be back with Dirk in a warm bed, covered in as many blankets as they had.

Dirk didn't say anything, just watched as Todd got back under the covers.

'Quick one - why am I covered in foam?' Todd asked.

'Fire extinguisher.'

'Cool,' Todd yawned. 'Thanks, by the way.'

'I'm sorry,' Dirk was shaking. 'I should have - I should have got the Three. I was just - I was just -'

'It's fine, Dirk. It's over. Honestly, I'm fine. These things just -'

'It's not "fine" Todd!' Dirk shouted. He sounded so upset and so angry that Todd was briefly stunned. Dirk was freely crying, wiping tears out of his eyes with the heels of his hands. 'God, when I saw you on fire - I thought you were going to die. I didn't know what was going on - I didn't know it was like that -'

'Hang on - what do you mean you saw me on fire?' Todd's eyes widened in understanding. 'Could you - you could see me? My attack? It's - no. It's psychosomatic, Dirk, it's not something you can see - it's hallucinations, it's -'

'It's not fucking psychosomatic!' Dirk grabbed his head and started clawing his own hair. 'God, fucking stupid, stupid Dirk, of course it's not fucking psychosomatic - it was all there and I didn't understand - I didn't put it together -'

'Slow down - start from the beginning -'

'It's like - like me.' Dirk looked small, terrified and Todd knew he was talking about that other part of himself, the part of him which made him the amazing and wonderful man Todd possibly-had-feelings-for but also the part which regularly fucked up his life. 'It's what - it's what they -' Dirk spat the word. 'Would call "psychic energy". It's not controlled; it attacks you. But I can see it, because I can see it. Project fucking Icarus. It's all interconnected.' 

'I'm - Amanda and I -'

'It's genetic; Blackwing already predicted that -'

'So what - what does this mean?'

'Nothing. Everything's the same - nothing's changed - I just -' Dirk looked at Todd as if he couldn't believe he was real real. Todd knew the look; he gave it regularly to Dirk. 'I saw you burn, Todd. I saw you fucking burn.'

'Okay,' Todd said, soothingly. He grabbed Dirk's hands and hold them within his own. It was something his mother used to do in thunderstorms. Dirk's hands were shaking. Todd gripped them tighter. 'It's okay. I'm here.'

'Don't die, Todd. Don't die. Promise me you won't die.'

'I promise -' Todd said, believing it as much as he could, just wanting Dirk to stop shaking. 'I promise it, Dirk -'

'I love you too much. I can't bare it. I'd die without you. I need you; I love you.'

Jesus Christ. Fucking hell. Todd moved his hands to Dirk's face. He felt Dirk's skin underneath his fingers, blotchy with crying and hot with anger. He soothed underneath his eyes, watching Dirk's intense stare watching him, so open and upset.

'I love you too. You're a bastard -' Todd laughed, wetly. He had begun to sob too.  'You're a fucking bastard for telling me like this.'

'I didn't know until now!' Dirk sniffled, rubbing his nose. 'I didn't know until - until you were -'

'Don't think about it,' Todd said, quietly. 'I'm fine. I'm here. Any anything that happens after this just - just -'

'Happens?' Dirk offered. 

'Yeah. Happens.'

Todd wanted to kiss him, so Todd did.

It was a bit fucked up, really. Not one of Todd's fantasies of had been remotely as messed up as their first kiss being as two crying dudes, making out on a shitty roach-motel bed. But then again, he never got what he wanted.

But this was what he wanted. Dirk's mouth was under his and they were sharing the same breath.

Dirk let out a soft sigh - a little 'ah' that made Todd go absolutely insane.

Todd slid up, kneeling on the bed, and began kissing every part of Dirk's face that he could - his eyelids, his lips - trying to soothe him, rubbing his face in little circles.

Dirk was breathing harder. Todd slid his hands into Dirk's hair and took his mouth again. Deeper, with more intent. He tasted like sleep and chocolate. Like heaven.

Dirk surged up to meet him they kissed heavily, deeply, for what felt like hours. Todd felt like he was drowning, in a good not a psychic-apparently-attack-oh-god-what-does-that-mean way.

Dirk nipped at Todd's lower lip and Todd let out a little gasp which betrayed how little restraint he had.

'Can I blow you?' Dirk breathed into Todd's ear. 'Please.'

Todd was lucky he was so stunned by the question because he was pretty sure, if his brain had accepted it on the first go, he would have come in his pants right there.

'Uh - oh, Christ - Dirk, you have to be kidding -'

Dirk pushed him into the covers, claiming his mouth again. Todd groaned into the kiss, feeling his dick throbbing.

Dirk forced his leg between them and Todd didn't understand why until he ground up against it. Oh fuck yes.

Todd panted, feeling himself being unwound string by string, atom by atom. Dirk was something else. This was nothing like the Dirk in his fantasies. This was so much better.

Dirk pushed down onto him, sliding their dicks together between Dirk's rough jeans and the thin fabric of Todd's boxer shorts. Todd tore his mouth away to groan.

Dirk looked vampiric, his lips rosy red with kissing and teeth exposed in a grin.

He looked hungry. Todd knew the feeling.

'Please -?' Dirk asked again.

'Yeah - yeah -'

Todd had sort of forgotten what Dirk had asked until he felt something - Dirk's hand - dipping below the waistband of his boxers. 

When Dirk clasped his hand around Todd's dick, Todd felt absurdly like barking - but settled for a choked 'ngh' noise and a full body shudder. Dirk swept his hand over the head before pumping down and Todd jolted.

'Fucking hell -' Todd wasn't a virgin - far from it - but this was Dirk. Dirk who was looking dishevelled in unbelievably clean white shirt and smelled of that mixture of peppery aftershave and candy beans. Every one of his senses reminded him - were screaming at him - that he was about to have (having?) sex with his best friend.

Dirk moved down the bed and Todd mewled, already missing Dirk's mouth on his, until the mouth clearly went somewhere else and Christ -

Todd gripped onto the bedsheets and bit on his lower lip. He refused to look away. Dirk had dipped his head down. He begun to suck, eagerly on Todd's dick.

The pleasure rolled over him and Todd had to remember how to breathe. Every movement of that spectacular tongue -

'Ngh... Fuck, Dirk -'

Dirk's fingers were splayed on his thigh and God Todd wished that the roles were reversed - just briefly - just enough to make Dirk come as hard as Todd had been fantasising for far too long. 

Dirk's mouth relaxed and then dipped down and Todd went down his throat and Todd bit down so hard on his lip that he tasted iron. 

'Fuck! Fuck! Please - please -' Todd was babbling, nonsensical, so close already.

If Dirk understood what that meant, he didn't do anything about it. He kept going, kept sucking and licking and Todd felt himself break. He came down Dirk's throat with a long groan.

Dirk swallowed and licked him slowly.

Todd watched him, panting, his cheekbones on fire (the good kind), until it got too much and he had to softly kick him away.

'Fuck - fucking hell, Dirk.'

Dirk's eyes were dark and lidded. His lips were obscenely red and he had dribbled come down his shirt.

Todd wanted to propose.

Dirk surged up again and took Todd's mouth with his own, claiming him, and Todd was lost to the taste of his own come and the beautiful, talented mouth underneath him.

Todd had enough sense to try and unzip Dirk's fly, but not the dexterity. After some shuffling, Dirk's jeans were off and Todd could grip him through his boxers.

'Yes -' Dirk breathed out shakily. 'God -'

'Yeah,' Todd said, agreeing with the sentiment.

Was it always like this? With someone you-probably-can-admit-it-now-Todd loved? Or was it a psychic thing? Todd wasn't sure and he didn't really care, he just knew he wanted to keep doing it forever.

'Please - please -' Dirk was begging now, something which set Todd's chest on fire with want.

Todd switched their positions - Dirk lying down, Todd on top - and pushed his hands into Dirk's boxers. 

He knew how Dirk felt. Hot and heavy, hard in his hand. They kissed as Todd touched him, Dirk letting out tiny noises that Todd would capture and swallow. He was beautiful. Gorgeous. Todd was in love. They were so fucked.

His cock twitched in sympathy as a hard tug got Dirk to groan and start mumbling against his mouth.

Todd wanted to hear what he was saying but was too eager to see Dirk unravel. Dirk bit down on his own lip and let out a litany of 'fuckfuckfuck' when he came.

Todd kissed him through it, then collapsed on Dirk's chest.

Dirk's breathing went from ragged to soft. He played with Todd's hair. Stroked his shoulders. Generally petted every part of him that he could get to without moving.

'I've loved you for months,' Todd said, when he felt close to drifting off. The beat of Dirk's heart was too relaxing. He felt warm.

'That's nice,' Dirk said, absentmindedly and a little tired.

*

In the end, there were only three added dimensions to Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. Dirk was gay, Todd was something he didn't feel the need to name and they were both together.

All in all, it was one of the lesser weird things that Todd had to deal with.