Fic: Playing Santa Claus, Chapter 1B (Oneshot)
Chapters | 1A | 1B |
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"Have I told you recently how much I love our department?" Chris Pike said as he leaned casually against the door of his beloved and very used Audi A6. Dressed casually in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, he pulled a white envelope emblazoned with the Iowa City PD logo on it from the pocket of his Carhartt jacket and tossed it at his partner as McCoy approached.
"What the hell is this?" Len asked, his profanity earning a glare from a mother with a young child parked in the spot next to him. Rolling his eyes, he fumbled with the envelope before righting it to peek inside. Cold, hard cash stared back at him, all in smaller denominations of fives, tens and a few twenties. "You been whoring yourself out on the street now as a side gig? I know this job doesn't pay that great, but come on, man!" McCoy asked with a smirk on his face.
"Ha, ha," Pike started sarcastically. "I Love your sense of humor, Officer McCoy. Do you say that to all the pros we hook and book?"
"No, only the ones that come on to me," was McCoy's smart assed but flatly delivered reply.
"Which would be all of them, right? Even the men?" Pike fired back, knowing his partner's self conscious tick about his perceived good looks.
"Shut up, Pike," McCoy growled, unable to come up with anything better while he battled down the blush creeping up his neck. He glared at his Sergeant for all it was worth while he thumbed through the envelope's contents. "What is this?"
"That is a collection that the shift decided to take up for the Sorenson boy. I mentioned that I was going to try and replace a couple of the presents that were stolen on my own, and before I knew it, people were handing me money to add to the pot."
"Who the hell did you tell? There has to be four hundred bucks here!" McCoy exclaimed.
"Four fifty, actually," Pike corrected nonchalantly. "You know Christine Chapel, right?"
McCoy paused and thought for a minute. "The new HR gal?"
"The very one. She heard what I was up to and decided that she wanted to spearhead a last minute drive. I think she even got to the Chief, if what I heard is true. I guess she has a soft spot for kids," Pike said, barely cutting off the 'And you,' that was directed at McCoy which was supposed to be tacked on the end of his last sentence.
Thankfully, McCoy didn't notice his partner's very near slip, instead counting exactly how much they had based off what was on the police report's inventory. "We'll be able to replace it all and then some."
"Not bad for a first Christmas without a mom, right?" Pike said. He motioned toward the colorful entrance of the store and said, "Come on. Let's get this done so we're not late to roll."
The two men walked in the door and the blissful and relative silence of the outside was immediately replaced by the high-pitched screaming, wailing and yelling of children and their frazzled parents. McCoy's jaw dropped as soon as his foot was past the threshold of the sliding door, and only Pike's strong hand on his forearm stopped him from turning around and walking right back out. "This is insanity. Remind me never to come shopping on Christmas Eve ever again," he muttered as Chris dragged him into the store proper.
"It is, but it's fun," Pike insisted, looking entirely too giddy for a man who was well into his thirties, fought a war, and who'd been on the street as a patrol cop for ten years.
"Fun? I think I'd rather have a root canal that deal with this," McCoy said, expertly dodging a small child as he streaked past at breakneck speeds. The volume level that was assaulting his ears was on par with what he'd expect from an indoor rave, and it was surely going to give him a migraine. "Let's do this and get out of here. What was the first thing on that list?"
Chris yanked out the folder copy of the police report. "Geo Trax Transportation Railway System," he read as the two wandered over to the toy trains section of the store.
McCoy's eyes were bulging out of his head as he looked around. There were thousands of blinking lights, remote controlled whats-its, and games that made his admittedly brilliant brain spin. Shaking his head, he mumbled, "Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys?"
"You are seriously the oldest twenty five year old I know. That's sad, McCoy," Pike scolded, shaking his head at the befuddled expression all over his partner's face. "Most guys your age are out bar hopping, chasing tail, or doing stuff that lands them in the hospital. But you? No. I need to get you out more, clearly."
"You'll do no such thing. Just because I don't enjoy puking my guts out into a toilet that gets cleaned maybe once every season does not make me old. It makes me smart. Now where's that damned list?" McCoy asked while he raised his head and shot a glare in Pike's general direction.
…Or where he thought Pike should have been. Len spun on one heel as he looked helplessly around the throng of humanity that was packed like sardines in a can. Growling, he stood up on his tip-toes as he surveyed the scene. It was almost like he was working crowd control at a large, public event, and it was not high up on his list of things that were fun in his job. McCoy wandered down a couple of aisles, muttering apologies at the helpless parents that were being dragged through the store by their screaming children. Finally, he spotted Chris at the end of the aisle, crouched down and fiddling with what appeared to be the store's demo of a green plastic dinosaur. Stopping in front of his partner, McCoy cleared his throat loudly as he said, "You're playing with a child's toy, Pike."
Pike looked up from his spot near the floor as he sent the little dinosaur walking across the floor. "Something wrong with that? It's Toy Story, Len," he said, holding up the packaged duplicate of the store's working model. When his partner replied by simply raising one questioning eyebrow, Pike added, "I'm just doing the quality control check," as he reached for the toy to replace it on the mock up table.
McCoy's eyes widened exponentially as he snatched the demo out of Pike's hands before he could set it gently on the demo table. He held it out of Chris' reach and lectured, "Good God, man! Do you not know how many ankle biters have had their filthy, germy little hands all over that?"
"Now one more, thanks to you," Pike retorted without missing a beat. The look on McCoy's face was priceless; eyes bulging, eyebrow climbing his hairline, and veins his in face standing at attention, Chris never wished for a camera more than that moment as the younger man held the toy away from his boss. The sergeant made a mental note to go talk to security when he was off duty to see if they could arrange a trade. But for the moment, Pike motioned with his head to a small Batman-themed radio controlled car he had tucked under his right arm and added, "I guess I shouldn't tell you how I decided on this one, huh?"
Rolling his eyes, Len just shook his head. "When you get the flu from all of this, do not come whining to me."
Chris stopped in the middle of the aisle and fixed Len with a mischievous stare. "Do I whine? I think not," he said before he began walking again, not bothering to wait for McCoy's reply.
"Oh, yes you do!" Len said as he chased after his partner. "Pike! PIKE!"
About an hour later, McCoy was convinced he'd been turned into some new form of human shopping cart. Pike was the lead, walking along through the store. Every so often, he would stop, fiddle with a toy while Len rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, and then add something else to the pile of stuff teetering precariously in McCoy's grasp. The only saving grace was that the end was near as the number of toys on the list kept (painfully slowly) shrinking. Len could have nearly cried in relief as Pike crossed off the last item on the police report (after adding a few extras for good measure), and the pair made their way towards the checkout.
"A bike?" McCoy questioned as Pike hefted the small Hot Wheels themed bike up on to the conveyer belt so it could be scanned.
"Why not? We had the extra money, and we sure as hell aren't giving it back to people," Chris said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I just hope it doesn't fall apart on us."
"Actually sir," the girl on the cash register said, interrupting the glare-fest between the two cops, "You don't buy this bike. You buy it in the box, and then you assemble it. Or, we can do it, for a small fee."
"Can we have it today if you guys put it together?" Pike asked, giving the girl, whose name tag proclaimed her to be Jessie, his full attention.
"Sure!" she replied rather over enthusiastically, her bright red ponytail bobbing up and down in time with her head. A mouthful of braces and a pronounced lisp marred her speech, but her clearly outgoing personality and her ability to talk a mile a minute made up for it in spades. Jessie's gaze bounced back and forth between Pike and McCoy, and both men could see the teenage crush creeping across her face. Giggling into her hand, she cleared her throat and asked, "Can you two gentlemen wait an hour?"
Pike checked his watch. "Hmm. We both have to be to work before then, so I'll just take it in the box."
"Oh, okay!" she replied, canceling the assembly request. Her hands worked quickly as she slid the rest of the toys over the point of sale scanner and dropped them efficiently in a few prepared bags. "I have to say, you guys picked out some awesome stuff. I have a little brother, and he would be going bananas over it all!"
Chris smiled back warmly and motioned to McCoy. "Well, we're convinced the kid is going to love it."
Jessie's face positively melted into an, 'Awww, isn't-that-cute' smile. A little squeak of glee accompanied the gesture as she brought both hands up to rest against her chest, right on top of her sternum. "Oh, who wouldn't?" she asked, waving a hand at both men. "I mean, with a couple of super-cool dads like you two, there'd be no way any kid would be sad!"
Pike clapped one hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing in the middle of the checkout aisle. McCoy wasn't as lucky, though it took a couple of seconds for the sentence to completely register through his mind. The water he was sipping went flying all over the floor as the younger cop sputtered and coughed. He turned to glare at a couple of little kids snickering to his right, only stopping when Chris' hand whacked him on the arm. McCoy reached into his pocket and yanked out his police ID and badge and slapped it on the counter in front of a shocked Jessie. "Iowa City PD. We're police partners," he growled, glaring the poor teen down as he emphasized his occupation. "And the next person who laughs goes to jail."
Adjacent to him, Chris finally gave in and let a hearty bark of laughter slip through his lips. He pulled out his own badge and ID and looked McCoy in the eye. Waving his credentials in his partner's face, he said, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm your supervisor, Officer McCoy, because you can't arrest me without IA present. Now put that thing away, Scrooge, and stop scaring the children."
McCoy grumbled something rude under his breath and said, "I need air. I'm going to wait outside."
Pike was still chuckling as he watched his partner leave. He turned to Jessie and said, "I'm sorry about that. He seems like he's a little cranky, but he's actually a pretty good guy."
"Oh, I'm sure he's fine. It's the holidays," she said, totaling up Pike's purchase. In a whispered voice, she winked and said, "They get the best of some people."
Chris handed over the cash, took his change, and shook the young lady's hand. "My dear, you have just earned my respect. There are criminals who are afraid of him!"
"I have five older brothers. What could possibly scare me about your partner?" she said, crossing her arms confidently over her chest while she met the sergeant's gaze. "He's all bark and no bite."
Pike snorted; truly Jessie was probably one of the most amusing people he'd come across in more than a few weeks. He waved goodbye and waddled out the door with all his purchases in hand. Pike dumped all the bags and boxes on the ground next to his car while he attempted to rearrange the interior of his car enough to fit everything he'd bought. Finally able to get the trunk and all four doors to close, Chris slammed the last door shut with a satisfied grunt. Glaring at McCoy (who was leaning casually against the cart corral next to Chris' car), Pike huffed. "You could have helped a little bit instead of standing there with your thumb up your ass."
"Nah, it was more amusing watching you struggle." McCoy motioned with one hand towards the overflowing interior of his partner's POV. "When are we bringing this stuff over?"
"Tonight. After shift. You wanna tag along?" Chris asked, sliding into his car.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."
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"It might be a little late to do this, Pike. Getting shot because I woke someone up out of a deep sleep is not high on my list of things to do today," McCoy grumbled, taking in the small, darkened, still house in a modest working class neighborhood. He checked the address again before he rang the doorbell.
Pike shook his head and punched the doorbell. "Len, that's not a fair comparison. You sleep like the dead. You don't even know where you are when someone wakes you up. Just relax already."
The sudden illumination of the downstairs living room gave away the fact that someone was awake in the Sorenson house. The scrabble of a deadbolt turning gave way to the sleepy visage of one Michael Sorenson, dressed in a pair of old sweatpants and an Iowa Hawkeyes sweatshirt. "Can I help you?" he asked, squinting through tired, bleary eyes.
"Mr. Sorenson," Pike began. "I don't know if you remember us - Officer McCoy and Sergeant Pike. We took your report the last night about the smash and grab from your truck."
"Oh, yeah. You two. I'm sorry. I didn't put it together without the uniforms," he said as recognition washed over his face. Taking in the bags of merchandise at the cops' feet, Sorenson's eyes widened exponentially. Pointing, he exclaimed, "No goddamned way! I can't believe it. You found it all?"
Pike scratched at his head. His original plan had been to lie to the man and tell him that yes, the police department somehow managed a Christmas miracle and recovered all his belongings, but when he realized that there was extra stuff in the bags, he knew that wouldn't fly. Instead, he went for the truth. "Well, not really. I wish we could say that it was the result of good, old-fashioned police work, but that would just be a bunch of crap."
"So, where did it all come from then? I don't get it," the young mechanic said, puzzled.
"Well, it just started with the two of us thinking that we would be able to buy some of the bigger things for you," McCoy began. "But then, other people started hearing about it, and they were just as pissed as we were."
Pike picked up right where McCoy left off and continued the narrative to the shocked father. "Let's just say that our HR lady is amazing. She heard what happened to you and decided that her mission was to replace your son's lost presents. The guys and gals from our shift all threw in a little cash, and we were able to make it all work, and then some," Pike said, hefting one of the heavy bags up from the stoop. "May we?"
To say Michael Sorenson was shocked would be the understatement of the year. Gaping like a fish, he stepped aside and allowed the two smiling cops entrance into his home.
Pike and McCoy set each bag down next to the small but robust and tastefully decorated tree and began taking the painstakingly wrapped presents out of the bags. "We all did some of the wrapping between calls today - you'll be able to tell that some of us are better than others," Pike said as he set out a space shuttle play set he attempted to wrap under the tree.
Next to him, McCoy snorted in amusement as the images of earlier in the afternoon replayed in his mind. Never did he think he'd find something at which Chris Pike was truly bullshit, but apparently, the ability to properly wrap a present was not in the man's DNA. Jerking his thumb toward his partner, Len said, "Yeah, some of us also know that newspaper and duct tape is not appropriate gift wrap for children!"
"How am I supposed to know that?"
"Amateur hour around here. I'm sorry you even have to hear his voice, let alone what he thinks is right," Len said with a smirk to Sorenson, the comment drawing a genuine laugh from the previously despondent man as the two cops fixed the presents into some sort of presentable order.
"I think that will about do it," Pike said, settling back on his haunches as he surveyed his handiwork. He looked over at McCoy and, nodding, the pair stood. Chris' knee gave a loud pop as he stood, and he winced and rubbed the sore spot. Turning to Sorenson, the sergeant asked, "What do you think?"
"I," he started, wiping some tears from the corners of his eyes. He sniffed and lifted his head to Pike's face. "I don't even know what to say, where to begin. Why? Why did you do this?"
Pike inhaled deeply and fixed his gaze on the framed pictures sitting on top of the mantle. One of them was a family picture, obviously taken before Mrs. Sorenson's suicide. In it, the three people, smiling, happy and healthy, all beamed proudly at the camera. Swallowing down the lump that was threatening to form in his throat, Pike replied simply, "Because we can."
Sorenson made a beeline for the junk drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Please, I need names of every person who donated. I don't know what I can do, but I'll find a way to thank you all properly."
Pike laid a gentle hand on the mechanic's arm. "That's not necessary. We don't need any thanks, or any recognition. This is just something that we all wanted to do," he said, motioning toward himself and McCoy. "Me, Len, the rest of the shift. It's our Christmas gift to you."
"What am I supposed to tell my son about where these presents came from? I sat him down tonight and told him what happened, and that he wasn't going to get anything."
McCoy smiled as he exchanged a glance with Pike. "Just tell your son that Santa did it. We'll be happy with that."
"I'll do that, and if there's anything you guys ever need, don't hesitate. I'll do it," Sorenson replied, practically shaking with gratitude. He put both hands up on top of his head as the enormity of the situation washed over him. Sitting down on the couch, he looked up at the two patrol cops and breathed out, "Thank you. Thank you both so very, very much."
"You're welcome," Pike replied, reaching out to accept the man's outstretched hand before he and Len turned to walk out the door. "And merry Christmas, to you and your son," he added before Chris clicked the door closed.
Even McCoy couldn't help the smile that was plastered all over his face. "I think we did some good tonight for once."
"That we did. I think there's a little boy in that house who's going to actually have a happy Christmas," Pike said, leaning on the open door of his car while he propped one foot up in the footwell. He tilted his head to the side and called out, "Hey Len?"
"Yeah?" McCoy said, spinning around to face his partner.
"You still have those plans tomorrow?" Pike asked carefully as he studied Len critically.
McCoy's head dropped, his chin coming to rest against his chest. "No, and I'm guessing you knew I never did."
Pike's response was a simple but knowing shrug of his shoulders.
"You're not pissed that I lied to you?" McCoy asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Pissed at you? Nah. Do I get why you did it? Absolutely not," he responded honestly. "But, it's water under the bridge, Len. That invitation's still open if you want it."
McCoy turned around and peeked at the warm glow from the living room light of Michael Sorenson's small home. Nibbling away on his lip, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there."
"Good," Pike said as he sat down in his car. "Wouldn't be Christmas without you."
--FIN--
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"Have I told you recently how much I love our department?" Chris Pike said as he leaned casually against the door of his beloved and very used Audi A6. Dressed casually in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, he pulled a white envelope emblazoned with the Iowa City PD logo on it from the pocket of his Carhartt jacket and tossed it at his partner as McCoy approached.
"What the hell is this?" Len asked, his profanity earning a glare from a mother with a young child parked in the spot next to him. Rolling his eyes, he fumbled with the envelope before righting it to peek inside. Cold, hard cash stared back at him, all in smaller denominations of fives, tens and a few twenties. "You been whoring yourself out on the street now as a side gig? I know this job doesn't pay that great, but come on, man!" McCoy asked with a smirk on his face.
"Ha, ha," Pike started sarcastically. "I Love your sense of humor, Officer McCoy. Do you say that to all the pros we hook and book?"
"No, only the ones that come on to me," was McCoy's smart assed but flatly delivered reply.
"Which would be all of them, right? Even the men?" Pike fired back, knowing his partner's self conscious tick about his perceived good looks.
"Shut up, Pike," McCoy growled, unable to come up with anything better while he battled down the blush creeping up his neck. He glared at his Sergeant for all it was worth while he thumbed through the envelope's contents. "What is this?"
"That is a collection that the shift decided to take up for the Sorenson boy. I mentioned that I was going to try and replace a couple of the presents that were stolen on my own, and before I knew it, people were handing me money to add to the pot."
"Who the hell did you tell? There has to be four hundred bucks here!" McCoy exclaimed.
"Four fifty, actually," Pike corrected nonchalantly. "You know Christine Chapel, right?"
McCoy paused and thought for a minute. "The new HR gal?"
"The very one. She heard what I was up to and decided that she wanted to spearhead a last minute drive. I think she even got to the Chief, if what I heard is true. I guess she has a soft spot for kids," Pike said, barely cutting off the 'And you,' that was directed at McCoy which was supposed to be tacked on the end of his last sentence.
Thankfully, McCoy didn't notice his partner's very near slip, instead counting exactly how much they had based off what was on the police report's inventory. "We'll be able to replace it all and then some."
"Not bad for a first Christmas without a mom, right?" Pike said. He motioned toward the colorful entrance of the store and said, "Come on. Let's get this done so we're not late to roll."
The two men walked in the door and the blissful and relative silence of the outside was immediately replaced by the high-pitched screaming, wailing and yelling of children and their frazzled parents. McCoy's jaw dropped as soon as his foot was past the threshold of the sliding door, and only Pike's strong hand on his forearm stopped him from turning around and walking right back out. "This is insanity. Remind me never to come shopping on Christmas Eve ever again," he muttered as Chris dragged him into the store proper.
"It is, but it's fun," Pike insisted, looking entirely too giddy for a man who was well into his thirties, fought a war, and who'd been on the street as a patrol cop for ten years.
"Fun? I think I'd rather have a root canal that deal with this," McCoy said, expertly dodging a small child as he streaked past at breakneck speeds. The volume level that was assaulting his ears was on par with what he'd expect from an indoor rave, and it was surely going to give him a migraine. "Let's do this and get out of here. What was the first thing on that list?"
Chris yanked out the folder copy of the police report. "Geo Trax Transportation Railway System," he read as the two wandered over to the toy trains section of the store.
McCoy's eyes were bulging out of his head as he looked around. There were thousands of blinking lights, remote controlled whats-its, and games that made his admittedly brilliant brain spin. Shaking his head, he mumbled, "Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys?"
"You are seriously the oldest twenty five year old I know. That's sad, McCoy," Pike scolded, shaking his head at the befuddled expression all over his partner's face. "Most guys your age are out bar hopping, chasing tail, or doing stuff that lands them in the hospital. But you? No. I need to get you out more, clearly."
"You'll do no such thing. Just because I don't enjoy puking my guts out into a toilet that gets cleaned maybe once every season does not make me old. It makes me smart. Now where's that damned list?" McCoy asked while he raised his head and shot a glare in Pike's general direction.
…Or where he thought Pike should have been. Len spun on one heel as he looked helplessly around the throng of humanity that was packed like sardines in a can. Growling, he stood up on his tip-toes as he surveyed the scene. It was almost like he was working crowd control at a large, public event, and it was not high up on his list of things that were fun in his job. McCoy wandered down a couple of aisles, muttering apologies at the helpless parents that were being dragged through the store by their screaming children. Finally, he spotted Chris at the end of the aisle, crouched down and fiddling with what appeared to be the store's demo of a green plastic dinosaur. Stopping in front of his partner, McCoy cleared his throat loudly as he said, "You're playing with a child's toy, Pike."
Pike looked up from his spot near the floor as he sent the little dinosaur walking across the floor. "Something wrong with that? It's Toy Story, Len," he said, holding up the packaged duplicate of the store's working model. When his partner replied by simply raising one questioning eyebrow, Pike added, "I'm just doing the quality control check," as he reached for the toy to replace it on the mock up table.
McCoy's eyes widened exponentially as he snatched the demo out of Pike's hands before he could set it gently on the demo table. He held it out of Chris' reach and lectured, "Good God, man! Do you not know how many ankle biters have had their filthy, germy little hands all over that?"
"Now one more, thanks to you," Pike retorted without missing a beat. The look on McCoy's face was priceless; eyes bulging, eyebrow climbing his hairline, and veins his in face standing at attention, Chris never wished for a camera more than that moment as the younger man held the toy away from his boss. The sergeant made a mental note to go talk to security when he was off duty to see if they could arrange a trade. But for the moment, Pike motioned with his head to a small Batman-themed radio controlled car he had tucked under his right arm and added, "I guess I shouldn't tell you how I decided on this one, huh?"
Rolling his eyes, Len just shook his head. "When you get the flu from all of this, do not come whining to me."
Chris stopped in the middle of the aisle and fixed Len with a mischievous stare. "Do I whine? I think not," he said before he began walking again, not bothering to wait for McCoy's reply.
"Oh, yes you do!" Len said as he chased after his partner. "Pike! PIKE!"
About an hour later, McCoy was convinced he'd been turned into some new form of human shopping cart. Pike was the lead, walking along through the store. Every so often, he would stop, fiddle with a toy while Len rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, and then add something else to the pile of stuff teetering precariously in McCoy's grasp. The only saving grace was that the end was near as the number of toys on the list kept (painfully slowly) shrinking. Len could have nearly cried in relief as Pike crossed off the last item on the police report (after adding a few extras for good measure), and the pair made their way towards the checkout.
"A bike?" McCoy questioned as Pike hefted the small Hot Wheels themed bike up on to the conveyer belt so it could be scanned.
"Why not? We had the extra money, and we sure as hell aren't giving it back to people," Chris said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I just hope it doesn't fall apart on us."
"Actually sir," the girl on the cash register said, interrupting the glare-fest between the two cops, "You don't buy this bike. You buy it in the box, and then you assemble it. Or, we can do it, for a small fee."
"Can we have it today if you guys put it together?" Pike asked, giving the girl, whose name tag proclaimed her to be Jessie, his full attention.
"Sure!" she replied rather over enthusiastically, her bright red ponytail bobbing up and down in time with her head. A mouthful of braces and a pronounced lisp marred her speech, but her clearly outgoing personality and her ability to talk a mile a minute made up for it in spades. Jessie's gaze bounced back and forth between Pike and McCoy, and both men could see the teenage crush creeping across her face. Giggling into her hand, she cleared her throat and asked, "Can you two gentlemen wait an hour?"
Pike checked his watch. "Hmm. We both have to be to work before then, so I'll just take it in the box."
"Oh, okay!" she replied, canceling the assembly request. Her hands worked quickly as she slid the rest of the toys over the point of sale scanner and dropped them efficiently in a few prepared bags. "I have to say, you guys picked out some awesome stuff. I have a little brother, and he would be going bananas over it all!"
Chris smiled back warmly and motioned to McCoy. "Well, we're convinced the kid is going to love it."
Jessie's face positively melted into an, 'Awww, isn't-that-cute' smile. A little squeak of glee accompanied the gesture as she brought both hands up to rest against her chest, right on top of her sternum. "Oh, who wouldn't?" she asked, waving a hand at both men. "I mean, with a couple of super-cool dads like you two, there'd be no way any kid would be sad!"
Pike clapped one hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing in the middle of the checkout aisle. McCoy wasn't as lucky, though it took a couple of seconds for the sentence to completely register through his mind. The water he was sipping went flying all over the floor as the younger cop sputtered and coughed. He turned to glare at a couple of little kids snickering to his right, only stopping when Chris' hand whacked him on the arm. McCoy reached into his pocket and yanked out his police ID and badge and slapped it on the counter in front of a shocked Jessie. "Iowa City PD. We're police partners," he growled, glaring the poor teen down as he emphasized his occupation. "And the next person who laughs goes to jail."
Adjacent to him, Chris finally gave in and let a hearty bark of laughter slip through his lips. He pulled out his own badge and ID and looked McCoy in the eye. Waving his credentials in his partner's face, he said, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm your supervisor, Officer McCoy, because you can't arrest me without IA present. Now put that thing away, Scrooge, and stop scaring the children."
McCoy grumbled something rude under his breath and said, "I need air. I'm going to wait outside."
Pike was still chuckling as he watched his partner leave. He turned to Jessie and said, "I'm sorry about that. He seems like he's a little cranky, but he's actually a pretty good guy."
"Oh, I'm sure he's fine. It's the holidays," she said, totaling up Pike's purchase. In a whispered voice, she winked and said, "They get the best of some people."
Chris handed over the cash, took his change, and shook the young lady's hand. "My dear, you have just earned my respect. There are criminals who are afraid of him!"
"I have five older brothers. What could possibly scare me about your partner?" she said, crossing her arms confidently over her chest while she met the sergeant's gaze. "He's all bark and no bite."
Pike snorted; truly Jessie was probably one of the most amusing people he'd come across in more than a few weeks. He waved goodbye and waddled out the door with all his purchases in hand. Pike dumped all the bags and boxes on the ground next to his car while he attempted to rearrange the interior of his car enough to fit everything he'd bought. Finally able to get the trunk and all four doors to close, Chris slammed the last door shut with a satisfied grunt. Glaring at McCoy (who was leaning casually against the cart corral next to Chris' car), Pike huffed. "You could have helped a little bit instead of standing there with your thumb up your ass."
"Nah, it was more amusing watching you struggle." McCoy motioned with one hand towards the overflowing interior of his partner's POV. "When are we bringing this stuff over?"
"Tonight. After shift. You wanna tag along?" Chris asked, sliding into his car.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."
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"It might be a little late to do this, Pike. Getting shot because I woke someone up out of a deep sleep is not high on my list of things to do today," McCoy grumbled, taking in the small, darkened, still house in a modest working class neighborhood. He checked the address again before he rang the doorbell.
Pike shook his head and punched the doorbell. "Len, that's not a fair comparison. You sleep like the dead. You don't even know where you are when someone wakes you up. Just relax already."
The sudden illumination of the downstairs living room gave away the fact that someone was awake in the Sorenson house. The scrabble of a deadbolt turning gave way to the sleepy visage of one Michael Sorenson, dressed in a pair of old sweatpants and an Iowa Hawkeyes sweatshirt. "Can I help you?" he asked, squinting through tired, bleary eyes.
"Mr. Sorenson," Pike began. "I don't know if you remember us - Officer McCoy and Sergeant Pike. We took your report the last night about the smash and grab from your truck."
"Oh, yeah. You two. I'm sorry. I didn't put it together without the uniforms," he said as recognition washed over his face. Taking in the bags of merchandise at the cops' feet, Sorenson's eyes widened exponentially. Pointing, he exclaimed, "No goddamned way! I can't believe it. You found it all?"
Pike scratched at his head. His original plan had been to lie to the man and tell him that yes, the police department somehow managed a Christmas miracle and recovered all his belongings, but when he realized that there was extra stuff in the bags, he knew that wouldn't fly. Instead, he went for the truth. "Well, not really. I wish we could say that it was the result of good, old-fashioned police work, but that would just be a bunch of crap."
"So, where did it all come from then? I don't get it," the young mechanic said, puzzled.
"Well, it just started with the two of us thinking that we would be able to buy some of the bigger things for you," McCoy began. "But then, other people started hearing about it, and they were just as pissed as we were."
Pike picked up right where McCoy left off and continued the narrative to the shocked father. "Let's just say that our HR lady is amazing. She heard what happened to you and decided that her mission was to replace your son's lost presents. The guys and gals from our shift all threw in a little cash, and we were able to make it all work, and then some," Pike said, hefting one of the heavy bags up from the stoop. "May we?"
To say Michael Sorenson was shocked would be the understatement of the year. Gaping like a fish, he stepped aside and allowed the two smiling cops entrance into his home.
Pike and McCoy set each bag down next to the small but robust and tastefully decorated tree and began taking the painstakingly wrapped presents out of the bags. "We all did some of the wrapping between calls today - you'll be able to tell that some of us are better than others," Pike said as he set out a space shuttle play set he attempted to wrap under the tree.
Next to him, McCoy snorted in amusement as the images of earlier in the afternoon replayed in his mind. Never did he think he'd find something at which Chris Pike was truly bullshit, but apparently, the ability to properly wrap a present was not in the man's DNA. Jerking his thumb toward his partner, Len said, "Yeah, some of us also know that newspaper and duct tape is not appropriate gift wrap for children!"
"How am I supposed to know that?"
"Amateur hour around here. I'm sorry you even have to hear his voice, let alone what he thinks is right," Len said with a smirk to Sorenson, the comment drawing a genuine laugh from the previously despondent man as the two cops fixed the presents into some sort of presentable order.
"I think that will about do it," Pike said, settling back on his haunches as he surveyed his handiwork. He looked over at McCoy and, nodding, the pair stood. Chris' knee gave a loud pop as he stood, and he winced and rubbed the sore spot. Turning to Sorenson, the sergeant asked, "What do you think?"
"I," he started, wiping some tears from the corners of his eyes. He sniffed and lifted his head to Pike's face. "I don't even know what to say, where to begin. Why? Why did you do this?"
Pike inhaled deeply and fixed his gaze on the framed pictures sitting on top of the mantle. One of them was a family picture, obviously taken before Mrs. Sorenson's suicide. In it, the three people, smiling, happy and healthy, all beamed proudly at the camera. Swallowing down the lump that was threatening to form in his throat, Pike replied simply, "Because we can."
Sorenson made a beeline for the junk drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Please, I need names of every person who donated. I don't know what I can do, but I'll find a way to thank you all properly."
Pike laid a gentle hand on the mechanic's arm. "That's not necessary. We don't need any thanks, or any recognition. This is just something that we all wanted to do," he said, motioning toward himself and McCoy. "Me, Len, the rest of the shift. It's our Christmas gift to you."
"What am I supposed to tell my son about where these presents came from? I sat him down tonight and told him what happened, and that he wasn't going to get anything."
McCoy smiled as he exchanged a glance with Pike. "Just tell your son that Santa did it. We'll be happy with that."
"I'll do that, and if there's anything you guys ever need, don't hesitate. I'll do it," Sorenson replied, practically shaking with gratitude. He put both hands up on top of his head as the enormity of the situation washed over him. Sitting down on the couch, he looked up at the two patrol cops and breathed out, "Thank you. Thank you both so very, very much."
"You're welcome," Pike replied, reaching out to accept the man's outstretched hand before he and Len turned to walk out the door. "And merry Christmas, to you and your son," he added before Chris clicked the door closed.
Even McCoy couldn't help the smile that was plastered all over his face. "I think we did some good tonight for once."
"That we did. I think there's a little boy in that house who's going to actually have a happy Christmas," Pike said, leaning on the open door of his car while he propped one foot up in the footwell. He tilted his head to the side and called out, "Hey Len?"
"Yeah?" McCoy said, spinning around to face his partner.
"You still have those plans tomorrow?" Pike asked carefully as he studied Len critically.
McCoy's head dropped, his chin coming to rest against his chest. "No, and I'm guessing you knew I never did."
Pike's response was a simple but knowing shrug of his shoulders.
"You're not pissed that I lied to you?" McCoy asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Pissed at you? Nah. Do I get why you did it? Absolutely not," he responded honestly. "But, it's water under the bridge, Len. That invitation's still open if you want it."
McCoy turned around and peeked at the warm glow from the living room light of Michael Sorenson's small home. Nibbling away on his lip, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there."
"Good," Pike said as he sat down in his car. "Wouldn't be Christmas without you."
--FIN--