Ficlet: "Tools of the Trade" [dS/Bones crossover, G, humor/crack]
Um. You know how two weeks ago I made a post about Brennan and Booth being the updated version of Fraser and RayV?
Title: Tools of the Trade
Author: icepixie
Rating: G, possibly for Gross. Also for Gen.
Spoilers: None for either series.
Word Count: 500
Summary: Fraser teaches Brennan a new trick for fighting crime. RayV and Booth are long-suffering. There is vastly illogical police procedure included.
Dedication: For rowdycamels, who gave me the idea.
* * *
Booth and Brennan had been called to Chicago to work on a body found in Millennium Park. It had taken a while to dig the skeleton up from the ground, but they had finally unearthed the majority of it. A detective from the Chicago police department and, of all people, a Mountie were helping the forensics team unearth and examine the remains.
Brennan was mostly absorbed in getting the last of the mud off the skull, but she managed to glance up at the rest of the bones from time to time. One of these glances caught Constable Fraser licking a phalange.
"What are you doing?!" she cried. "You're compromising the remains!"
Fraser looked up at her, managing to appear completely innocent, with a touch of confusion over why he was being yelled at. His tongue was still touching the bone.
The Chicago detective, who was loitering a few feet away trying to keep the dirt off his Italian leather shoes, chimed in. "Benny, how many times do have I have to tell you not to put everything you find in your *mouth*!"
Brennan leaned over and snatched the finger bone from the Mountie's hand. He still looked confused. "Motor oil," he finally said. "These bones were handled by someone who works on cars before being buried here."
Detective Vecchio was all ears at that. "Like a mechanic?" he asked. Brennan was still so outraged that she couldn't even make a sound.
"Yes, a mechanic would certainly be a possibility," Fraser answered, standing up and brushing non-existent dirt from his jodhpurs.
"Lou Carroll," Ray said. "He's a small-time mobster. When a minor drug dealer from the other crime family they usually compete with for protection money went missing, everyone figured he'd killed him, but the body was never found." He turned to Brennan. "This is him, isn't it?"
Though still horrified by Fraser's actions, Brennan answered on autopilot. "It's male, mid-thirties. That's all I can tell you right now." She didn't let either of them respond before beginning to berate Fraser for his mishandling of the evidence. "What on earth were you doing, anyway? Surely even in Canada they teach law enforcement not to--"
"I could smell the oil on the bone," Fraser said, "but I wasn't able to confirm what kind it was without tasting it."
Ray, although he had been just as disgusted as Brennan, leapt to his partner's defense. "It got us a suspect, right? As long as you can confirm it's Frank Piselli, anyway."
Brennan was still stuck on Fraser's statement. "You could smell motor oil on a proximal phalange?"
He rushed to correct her. "I wasn't sure it was motor oil. That was why I had to taste it."
Brennan brought the finger bone to her nose and gave it a cautious sniff. If she concentrated very hard, it did smell a little like--
The voice of her partner cut through her thoughts. "Bones, if you put that in your mouth, so help me God..."
And with that, my paper-editing break is over...
Title: Tools of the Trade
Author: icepixie
Rating: G, possibly for Gross. Also for Gen.
Spoilers: None for either series.
Word Count: 500
Summary: Fraser teaches Brennan a new trick for fighting crime. RayV and Booth are long-suffering. There is vastly illogical police procedure included.
Dedication: For rowdycamels, who gave me the idea.
* * *
Booth and Brennan had been called to Chicago to work on a body found in Millennium Park. It had taken a while to dig the skeleton up from the ground, but they had finally unearthed the majority of it. A detective from the Chicago police department and, of all people, a Mountie were helping the forensics team unearth and examine the remains.
Brennan was mostly absorbed in getting the last of the mud off the skull, but she managed to glance up at the rest of the bones from time to time. One of these glances caught Constable Fraser licking a phalange.
"What are you doing?!" she cried. "You're compromising the remains!"
Fraser looked up at her, managing to appear completely innocent, with a touch of confusion over why he was being yelled at. His tongue was still touching the bone.
The Chicago detective, who was loitering a few feet away trying to keep the dirt off his Italian leather shoes, chimed in. "Benny, how many times do have I have to tell you not to put everything you find in your *mouth*!"
Brennan leaned over and snatched the finger bone from the Mountie's hand. He still looked confused. "Motor oil," he finally said. "These bones were handled by someone who works on cars before being buried here."
Detective Vecchio was all ears at that. "Like a mechanic?" he asked. Brennan was still so outraged that she couldn't even make a sound.
"Yes, a mechanic would certainly be a possibility," Fraser answered, standing up and brushing non-existent dirt from his jodhpurs.
"Lou Carroll," Ray said. "He's a small-time mobster. When a minor drug dealer from the other crime family they usually compete with for protection money went missing, everyone figured he'd killed him, but the body was never found." He turned to Brennan. "This is him, isn't it?"
Though still horrified by Fraser's actions, Brennan answered on autopilot. "It's male, mid-thirties. That's all I can tell you right now." She didn't let either of them respond before beginning to berate Fraser for his mishandling of the evidence. "What on earth were you doing, anyway? Surely even in Canada they teach law enforcement not to--"
"I could smell the oil on the bone," Fraser said, "but I wasn't able to confirm what kind it was without tasting it."
Ray, although he had been just as disgusted as Brennan, leapt to his partner's defense. "It got us a suspect, right? As long as you can confirm it's Frank Piselli, anyway."
Brennan was still stuck on Fraser's statement. "You could smell motor oil on a proximal phalange?"
He rushed to correct her. "I wasn't sure it was motor oil. That was why I had to taste it."
Brennan brought the finger bone to her nose and gave it a cautious sniff. If she concentrated very hard, it did smell a little like--
The voice of her partner cut through her thoughts. "Bones, if you put that in your mouth, so help me God..."
And with that, my paper-editing break is over...