A Home Is Not A House (4/5)
Title: A Home Is Not A House (or, five times the ARC was more than just a place to work.)
Rating: T
Characters: Danny Quinn, Jenny Lewis
Word Count: 648
Warning: bad words
Summary: "You're a dead man. I'll say good at your funeral and make a toast in your name with the good whisky."
4: Mischief and Mayhem
"Daniel Christopher Quinn!"
The ginger in question looked up with mouth agape. "How the bloody hell does she know me middle name?" he asked no one in particular at the sound of Jenny's virulent shriek.
"Connor," Becker answered, completely blasé, as if this was a common occurrence. "Connor knows everything about everyone. He regularly hacks the CCTVs and our CVs just so he'll have something to do between anomalies." The captain looked over the top of the Mossberg he was fastidiously cleaning at Danny. "What'd you do to earn a middle name?"
"Uhm...I may or may not have...tastefully redecorated her office when she was at that budget meeting with Lester."
Becker's eyebrows flirted with his hairline. "Tastefully redecorated," he repeated, then shook his head. "You're a dead man. I'll say good at your funeral and make a toast in your name with the good whisky."
Danny only partially faked his wince as he peered through the window to see Jenny Lewis striding down the ramp like a woman on a mission, her heels rapping out a sharp staccato on the concrete flooring. It was only a bit of fun. He really hadn't thought that she would be so upset. Hell, it was April Fools' Day. Surely she got that by now?
People in this place were entirely too serious. Danny knew it was because they'd seen too many teammates die in the past several months, but that was largely why he tried to get a rise out of them all the time. He couldn't just leave them to stew in their miseries. He'd lost people in his life, too, and he knew from personal experience that brooding and picking at the scab never helped, only made the injury more inflamed and painful. It'd taken him years to fully appreciate it, but laughter was the best medicine.
And there was a running bet that he could make the guv crack a smile before June.
He ducked beneath the window when Jenny turned in the direction of the armoury, but too late. She'd spotted him. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Becker, hide me!" he hissed as the sharp click-click of his imminent death approached.
"No, thank you, I like my hide just the way it is. And I've got a front row view to the show."
"Oh, you poncy bastard..."
The door slammed open so hard that it bounced off the wall behind it and nearly snapped right back shut, if not for the red-manicured hand holding it open. Jenny Lewis turned to face Danny, currently trying to make himself invisible beneath a table. "Quinn, get your stupid ginger arse right out here right now before I drag you out by your bollocks!" she barked in a whip-crack voice that said she had better be obeyed now.
"I never pegged you for the kinky type, Jen, but just so you know, my safe word's apples - ow!" The copper's attempt at humour soon died into pained yelps as Jenny strode over, reached beneath the table, and seized one of his ears, making good on her word to drag him out from beneath the table. "Ow, ow, fuckity ow, woman, that's bloody well attached!" he yelped.
"You are going to put my office right back the way it was, Danny Quinn," the dark-haired woman ordered, giving his ear another tug. "Or I swear on everything holy, I'll have you scrubbing out the loos with your teeth."
Becker had quietly taken out his mobile and was recording the whole thing for posterity - a grown man being led off by the ear, whimpering in pain as his boss gave him a well-deserved tongue-lashing and a steady stream of threats.
"I love this job," he sighed happily.
Rating: T
Characters: Danny Quinn, Jenny Lewis
Word Count: 648
Warning: bad words
Summary: "You're a dead man. I'll say good at your funeral and make a toast in your name with the good whisky."
4: Mischief and Mayhem
"Daniel Christopher Quinn!"
The ginger in question looked up with mouth agape. "How the bloody hell does she know me middle name?" he asked no one in particular at the sound of Jenny's virulent shriek.
"Connor," Becker answered, completely blasé, as if this was a common occurrence. "Connor knows everything about everyone. He regularly hacks the CCTVs and our CVs just so he'll have something to do between anomalies." The captain looked over the top of the Mossberg he was fastidiously cleaning at Danny. "What'd you do to earn a middle name?"
"Uhm...I may or may not have...tastefully redecorated her office when she was at that budget meeting with Lester."
Becker's eyebrows flirted with his hairline. "Tastefully redecorated," he repeated, then shook his head. "You're a dead man. I'll say good at your funeral and make a toast in your name with the good whisky."
Danny only partially faked his wince as he peered through the window to see Jenny Lewis striding down the ramp like a woman on a mission, her heels rapping out a sharp staccato on the concrete flooring. It was only a bit of fun. He really hadn't thought that she would be so upset. Hell, it was April Fools' Day. Surely she got that by now?
People in this place were entirely too serious. Danny knew it was because they'd seen too many teammates die in the past several months, but that was largely why he tried to get a rise out of them all the time. He couldn't just leave them to stew in their miseries. He'd lost people in his life, too, and he knew from personal experience that brooding and picking at the scab never helped, only made the injury more inflamed and painful. It'd taken him years to fully appreciate it, but laughter was the best medicine.
And there was a running bet that he could make the guv crack a smile before June.
He ducked beneath the window when Jenny turned in the direction of the armoury, but too late. She'd spotted him. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Becker, hide me!" he hissed as the sharp click-click of his imminent death approached.
"No, thank you, I like my hide just the way it is. And I've got a front row view to the show."
"Oh, you poncy bastard..."
The door slammed open so hard that it bounced off the wall behind it and nearly snapped right back shut, if not for the red-manicured hand holding it open. Jenny Lewis turned to face Danny, currently trying to make himself invisible beneath a table. "Quinn, get your stupid ginger arse right out here right now before I drag you out by your bollocks!" she barked in a whip-crack voice that said she had better be obeyed now.
"I never pegged you for the kinky type, Jen, but just so you know, my safe word's apples - ow!" The copper's attempt at humour soon died into pained yelps as Jenny strode over, reached beneath the table, and seized one of his ears, making good on her word to drag him out from beneath the table. "Ow, ow, fuckity ow, woman, that's bloody well attached!" he yelped.
"You are going to put my office right back the way it was, Danny Quinn," the dark-haired woman ordered, giving his ear another tug. "Or I swear on everything holy, I'll have you scrubbing out the loos with your teeth."
Becker had quietly taken out his mobile and was recording the whole thing for posterity - a grown man being led off by the ear, whimpering in pain as his boss gave him a well-deserved tongue-lashing and a steady stream of threats.
"I love this job," he sighed happily.