*
"The problem with you--"
Munch crosses his ankles on the arm of the couch and waits. Another Friday night sitting in his living room reviewing case files with Fin. Fantastic. "This should be good."
Fin is settled on the floor in front of the couch, up by Munch's head, and he turns slightly to look his partner in the eye. "The problem with you is that you got no spontenaity."
Munch's pencil falls into his lap. "That's the problem with me?"
Fin nods sagely, like he's the hoary old wise woman at the edge of the goddamned forest or something. "Look around you, man. When was the last time you did anything that wasn't planned 'bout a month ahead?"
Munch shakes his head. "I'm a cop, Fin; attention to detail is what keeps me from getting myself shot. And I recall it's kept you from getting shot on an occasion or two."
"Yeah, yeah." Fin is dismissive. "That's great for work, but what about your personal life?"
Munch raises an eyebrow. "What do you know about my personal life?"
"I know you ain't got one."
"Funny man," he says with a snort. "I do fine for myself."
"Uh-huh."
"I don't know what delusions you're operating under, Fin, but you are not SVU's reigning expert on John Munch."
"Close enough. Who else spends as much time with your sorry ass as I do?" Fin shakes his head. "You're set in your ways. That's all I'm saying."
Fin goes back to his file, and Munch stares at the back of his head. "I need to be more spontaneous?" Fin nods. Munch leans forward. He can't say where this imp inside of him has come from. "Are you sure about that?"
Fin turns to look at him, an annoyed frown forming a V between dark eyes. "Yeah, John, I'm sure. What's your problem now?"
In one motion, Munch drops his feet to the floor, leans forward, wraps a hand around the back of Fin's head, and kisses him hard. For a moment, Fin is frozen against him, disbelieving. Then he relaxes into it, one hand coming up to rest on Munch's knee.
When Munch pulls away, he's grinning, and Fin makes a noise that definitely sounds disappointed. "What the fuck, John?"
Munch strokes his thumb over the pulse point behind his partner's ear. Fin closes his eyes and shivers a little. "That spontaneous enough?" Eyes still shut tight, Fin nods.
"Good," Munch whispers, whacking the back of Fin's head before drawing his hand away. "So get back to the case and back off."
He returns his feet to the arm of the couch and picks up his folder. Fin says something that might be, "Son of a bitch," and Munch laughs softly, letting his hand return casually to the back of Fin's neck. Another Friday night sitting in his living room reviewing case files with Fin.
Fantastic.
END