"You did good though," Lem said, slumping onto the couch in the Strike Team room and resting his feet on the table. Shane walked into the room behind him.

"Trish said I was the most convincing undercover cum guzzler she ever seen."

Shane shrugged and went to his locker. Put away his gun and his badge.

"I played my part. Those fags ain't all bad," he said.

Lem had noticed it. The way Shane kept his distance from the men they were trying to protect. How he wouldn't look into their eyes when he was talking to them. Gradually, as the operation had progressed, and Shane had opened his shirt and watched the cars with narrowed eyes, Lem had noticed him loosening up. Talking to one guy with ease about cars; relaxing his tone from aggressive defiance to being almost friendly.

"That ain't a nice word, man. Stop," Lem said quietly. He picked up his football and began spinning it on his knee.

Shane turned around and stared at Lem. Shrugged.

"S'what they are, right? Faggots. Fudgepackers. Queers."

"Yeah OK, OK, urban dictionary." Lem held up his hand to stop Shane speaking.

"You use it all the time," Shane said, his voice unflinching. He continued to stare at Lem, his eyes unwavering as they challenged his friend to defy him. He didn't need Lem to tell him what and he could and couldn't say; he had his opinions, and they had taken years to build. He was comfortable in them.

"Tell me then, man. They take a dick up the ass…what's normal about that?"

"You ever put your dick up Mara's ass?" Lem said, standing up. His mouth was set in a determined line.

Shane put his hands on his hips and shifted a little.

"Maybe."

"If it's so abnormal then why you trippin' on these guys for something you've done yourself?" Lem said, his voice growing louder and louder as he became more antagonised.

"Since when did you become a faggot spokesperson, Lemonhead? And hey, don't compare me to those freaks."

Lem shook his head. He was breathing heavily; the football in his hand now tapping against his leg.

"Man, fuck you," he said. He stormed out, pushing past Shane as hard as he could manage.

The knock on Lem's door came late; it was twelve thirty and he was watching the sports highlights before going to bed.

He pushed back the curtain covering the glass in his front door.

Shane. Illuminated by the porch light. His expression was unreadable as it usually was; but he held up a six pack when he saw Lem's face.

The closest he ever got to apology was bringing around beer after an argument. Lem figured his tactic was for them to all get tanked-up, start fighting about stupid shit because they were drunk. The new argument would push their previous sober argument into the shade.

Lem rolled his eyes but still unlatched the door.

"You a fag?" were the first words out of Shane's mouth. Lem didn't say anything. Shane sighed, rubbed his spare hand over his face.

"You ever had another man's dick up your ass, Lemansky?" Shane pushed, his voice taut.

"That's gonna get me to invite you in, huh Shane?"

"I said," Shane said, pushing the door back as he barged through the doorway. He slammed the beers onto the counter and walked up to Lem. Slid his hand down to the front of Lem's shorts and ran his fingertips over the outline of Lem's cock.

"Have you ever had another man's dick up your ass, Lemansky?"

"No," Lem said defiantly, looking down at Shane. He wanted to grind his crotch against Shane's hand, feel his touch hard and rough.

The truth was, he hadn't. But he's fantasised about it; about being bent over the edge of his bed, his fingers clawing into the soft mattress as he anticipated feeling Shane sink into him from behind.

"Me neither," Shane said, his lips at Lem's ear. Lem could feel his hot breath, his warm body pushing up against him.

"But I've always wondered."