Fandom:	Houston Knights
Series:	Playing For Keeps #1
Rating:	PG-13
Pairing:	Joe/Levon Pre-slash
Archive:	Starwinder's
Title:	After The Fight At Gilley's
Author:	Starwinder
e-mail:	starwinder2of7@gmail.com
Standard Disclaimer: Houston Knights belongs to Jay Bernstein and Michael Butler and Columbia Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fan fiction, written out of love for the shows. I am making no money off this. I have no money so please don't sue me. Any original characters who may appear in these stories are the property of the author.

After the Fight at Gilley's
By Starwinder

When they finally stopped laughing, Lundy reached out to help his new partner up. LaFiamma struggled to his feet and leaned against Lundy just a little. Lundy started at the sudden feeling of warmth that the contact brought, almost like a small electric charge passing between them. LaFiamma drew back, breaking contact, as if he had felt it too.

Lundy looked down at their muddy clothes. "Reckon we might as well call it a night. We ain't gonna get no supper anywhere looking like this."

LaFiamma grinned. "I guess they do have standards.... even in Texas."

Lundy laughed. "Yeah. Well I guess I'm back to eating my own cookin'"

LaFiamma looked at him for a long moment before asking, "You like Italian food?"

"I've been known to eat it. From time to time. When I couldn't get nothing else. Why?"

"You ever had any that a real Italian cooked?"

"Can't say as I have. Not to know for certain that the cook was Italian." Lundy was regarding LaFiamma expectantly now.

"We can clean up at my place. I got all the making for spaghetti. And you ain't never had spaghetti till you've had it from my Aunt Teresa's recipe!"

"Reckon, I could tolerate it. Beats going home and cooking for myself." He headed for the jeep with LaFiamma trailing behind.

________________________

Back at LaFiamma's apartment Lundy was a little surprised that LaFiamma insisted that he take his bath first. He was even more surprised to find that the fancy dressing Yankee actually had a couple of pairs of blue jeans in his closet. They were a little big on Lundy but not too much.

While LaFiamma was getting cleaned up Lundy wandered around the apartment looking at what the other man had deemed important enough to bring with him from Chicago. There wasn't much but he had brought a number of books. Looking at them Lundy was surprised at the wide range of titles. There was a complete works of Shakespeare right next to a copy of Blackstone's Law and beside it some science fiction novel called Dune, bracketed by a book of poetry by some obscure guy that Lundy had never heard of. The only book that he saw as something he might read was The Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling. He had read Kipling in college and had actually liked quite a bit of his work. This was an old copy, a 1917 edition. It was stamped with the Chicago Public Library stamp. It was well worn and he figured LaFiamma had bought it at a book sale.

When LaFiamma emerged from the bathroom he had put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank style undershirt. He padded barefoot across to the kitchen and began to pull pots and pans out to start supper. Waving a hand toward the apartment he asked, "So, what'd ya think of the place? It ain't big but I ain't gonna be here long so that don't matter."

"It looks a bit bare. You planning to bring your stuff down?"

"I don't collect much stuff. Except clothes. I like nice clothes." After he had started supper he padded back into the living room and dropped on to the couch across from the chair that Lundy had settled in. He swung his feet up stretching his legs out along the couch to wait for the water to boil for the spaghetti. He went on talking, "And books. I got quite a few books."

"I saw the Kipling. Chicago Public Library?" He teased.

LaFiamma held up his hands, "You got me, Officer. I confess. I stole that book when I was ten. I swear I was gonna take it back but the longer I waited the harder it got and now I just can't afford the overdue fee!"

Lundy gave him a look trying to figure out if he was kidding.

"Truth. I swear. Please don't turn me in. The guilt is punishment enough."

"Why'd you steal it?" Lundy couldn't help but ask.

LaFiamma leaned his head back on the couch arm and began to quote, "One man in a thousand Solomon says will stick more close than a brother. And it's worth your while seeking him half your days if you find him before the other. Nine hundred and ninety nine depend on what the world sees in you, But the thousandth man will stand your friend with the whole round world agin you. Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show that will settle the finding for 'ee. Nine hundred and ninety-nine of them go by your looks or your acts or your glory. But if he finds you and you find him, the rest of the world don't matter; for the thousandth man will sink or swim with you in any water.---" He broke off abruptly as if embarrassed, "Sorry, it's just thatwell that poemit's what I stole it for. I don't know why really. I just had to have it and there was no way poor as we was--. I had to have it. It spoke to me. That's all."

He jumped up and returned to the kitchen relieving Lundy of the need to reply.

Lundy rose and followed him into the kitchen, "You need any help? I make a mean salad."

"I hope that means a good salad."

"It does."

"I think you can find what you need." He gestured toward the refrigerator and the counter next to it where several tomatoes and cucumbers lay.

Lundy busied himself with cutting up the vegetables and preparing the salad as LaFiamma put the finishing touches on the spaghetti.

LaFiamma got out the dishes and began to set the table. The dishes were a nice set of china complete with matching glassware and silverware.

Lundy smiled, "You ain't gotta use the good stuff for me, LaFiamma."

LaFiamma looked up at him in surprise, "This is just the everyday stuff." He said with a puzzled expression.

"You ain't got no paper plates?" Lundy asked.

LaFiamma stared, "Paper plates? You want to eat my good spaghetti off of paper plates?!"

"Sorry, I was just thinking it'd be easier to clean up. That's all. I didn't mean any disrespect for your cooking." Lundy said.

LaFiamma gave him an annoyed look but shrugged and started putting the food on the table. Lundy watched. Apparently eating at LaFiamma's was a formal occasion no matter who was there. The table looked like it had been set in a fancy restaurant with dinner plates, salad plates, and knifes, forks and spoons spread out on both sides of the plates. Water glasses, wine glasses.Lord have mercy!

LaFiamma sat down and motioned for Lundy to. "You want to say grace?" He asked.

"Maybe you oughta. It's your table."

"Guest are supposed to say grace." LaFiamma said. It was almost a pout.

"OK." Lundy hesitated trying to think of what to say. He finally settled on an old table blessing that Mother Minnie had taught him when he was a kid. "God is great. God is good. Let us thank him for this food. Amen." He looked up at LaFiamma. "That's about as fancy a grace as I know. Hope it was OK."

"It's OK. Short and to the point. At least you didn't do a Priest on me."

"What's that?"

"Two hour blessing for a thirty minute meal." LaFiamma grinned and Lundy got the impression that he enjoyed poking fun at established religion.

"You a lapsed Catholic?"

"No. Why?"

"Didn't know priest jokes were allowed."

LaFiamma did another of those whole body shrugs that Lundy was starting to find fascinating and waved a dismissive hand at him. It was beginning to occur to him that the way LaFiamma used his hands, tilted his head, moved his whole body when he talked was part and parcel of his communication style. He reckoned he was going to have to learn to read those gestures and looks if they were going to be able to work together. It was almost like the man used sign language.

LaFiamma served the spaghetti using the special utensils that he had for it and even, on seeing that Lundy was about to cut the spaghetti up to eat it, showed him how the Italians did it. Wrapping the spaghetti around the fork, using the knife to cut off the excess strands then carefully lifting it into the mouth.

Apparently deciding that they had talked about him enough or more than enough, LaFiamma turned the conversation toward Lundy's background during dinner. "So, tell me, Lundy. How did a star quarterback end up as a cop?"

"Well, first thing I did was mess up my shoulder. Rotor cuff injury. Still gives me pain from time to time when I over use it. I couldn't play ball no more. I had always been interested in law enforcement. I was raised by my grandparents. Granddaddy had been a Texas Ranger. Heck, he taught me to shoot when I was real little. I took the test. Got into the academy. The rest is history."

"So you come from law enforcement stock."

"Yeah. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you come from law enforcement stock?"

"Not hardly." LaFiamma looked away and his face closed, becoming still and expressionless.

Lundy could plainly see the no trespassing sign go up.Wonder what that's about? He does let things show plain on his face. Very readable. Till he closes it down.

He looked back at Lundy still without expression. They were almost through eating and he stood up and started clearing the table. "We gotta be up early. You about ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure." Lundy said a little puzzled.What's going on? We were getting along fine till I asked about his family.

"I'll pick you up in the morning. If you want to stop for breakfast I can be here early" he let it trail off.

"I'll eat here. You get breakfast before you come by." LaFiamma stood at the sink clearing the plates, getting ready to wash the dishes, and pointedly not looking at Lundy.

"Fine. Whatever you want. Be by about eight thirty then. Good night." Lundy turned to go, puzzled and a little annoyed at the abrupt cooling of the atmosphere in the apartment.

LaFiamma didn't turn from the sink but he did say, "Good night, Lundy."

Lundy pulled the apartment door closed behind him and checked to make sure that it was locked. He stood there a minute before putting on his hat and leaving.I thought for a minute there that we were gonna connect. What happened? What's with his family that he don't want to talk about?

LaFiamma leaned against the sink, his body plainly showing the depression that had suddenly overcome him.This is gonna work out just great! The grandson of a Texas Ranger and a kid from a Chicago mob family. Partners. Yeah, Right! When he finds out....

The End.