amop-series #18#
/NEXT OF KIN 1/
“May I ask why you are at your desk, Lieutenant Flynn?” came Sharon Raydor’s voice, a hint of repressed annoyance in among the sarcastic connotation to the words. It was a voice Andrew Flynn recognized as velvety danger - a voice Sharon usually reserved for addressing wayward officers she had no personal connections to. Andy grimaced, holding his right hand tenderly against his chest and inwardly cursing that she chose now of all times to visit his murder room.
Andy slowly spun around on his chair and regarded the Captain as she approached him, her hands on her hips and a look in the depths of her eyes that did indeed match the sardonic tunes of her voice. Andy grimaced again. As far as Andy was concerned Sharon in full blown-out scorn-mode was a volatile combination when he put his bad mood into the equation.
“It’s my desk,” Andy deadpanned, “where else would I fucking be?”
“The hospital,” Sharon retorted and Andy immediately glared at the stupid chair Provenza had resided on a mere second ago; of course the old idiot had ratted him out and then chickened out and left the scene.
“I’m fine,” Andy bit out between his teeth, his jaw clenched tight, “Not that it’s any of your business, Captain.”
Sharon rolled her eyes at his sour voice. “Wrong,” she countered with a dark smile, “It is specifically my business. On duty incidents involving officers and the general public are my area of expertise. If your hand is broken or otherwise mangled in such a way that you need time off, lieutenant, it is my business indeed seeing it happened while you were on duty, tackling a potential suspect.” Sharon raised an eyebrow as she spoke, coming closer to him. Her arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed in on him with a look that Andy deemed patient even if she looked ready to grab him by his ear.
“This is not news to you, lieutenant. I know for a fact that you are more than familiar with that section of the LAPD guidelines. You need to have your hand checked out, promptly.”
“I’m sure it’s just a bump,” Andy lied - it hurt like hell everytime he so much as moved a finger but he wasn’t about to clue her in on the truth seeing she would only force him to the hospital then, “It’s just bruised, Sharon.”
Sharon sighed, her arms coming uncrossed and landing on her hips again, “Honey,” she said in a low voice, “I know you don’t particularly enjoy hospitals but it’s not up for negotiation.”
Andy glowered, “Are you telling me I have no choice in the matter?”
“That’s exactly what I am telling you, yes,” she punctuated it with a condescending smile, “It’s an order, lieutenant - so you better move your gear.”
Andy grumbled, “You are not my direct superior.”
Sharon’s smile widened in a way a predator would show its teeth before pouncing on unsuspecting prey and Andy grimaced in return.
“Do you want me to call the Chief of Police? Do you really want to listen to the Chief yell into to your phone for a half hour about responsibility and conduct? Because I will call him if that’s what it will take,” there was a note in her tone that made it clear she would indeed call the Chief and Andy knew - from experience - that Sharon on the warpath meant no one stood standing after she had barreled through.
Andy sighed, “Well, I can’t drive in this condition and I’m not paying an outrageous amount of money for a lousy cab.”
“I’m driving you,” Sharon declared with another smile.
Andy sighed again. Despite knowing it was a lost cause he said, “Are you sure it’s necessary? Heck, I’ve spent the last half hour with an icepack on my hand, Sharon. What more can a doctor do, huh?”
There was a glint of something malicious in her eyes and then she approached him, her hand out towards him,
“Give me your hand.” Her teeth looked positively sharp in this lightning Andy thought.
He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on her with suspicion, “Why?”
“C’mon,” she reached out, her fingers soft and gentle on his injured hand. Andy let it go from his chest, his brow furrowed in confusion. The motion made him grimace but otherwise he kept still.
Out of the blue and with no warning whatsoever, Sharon deliberately pushed down her thumb on his wrist while her fingers pressed on the inside of his wrist with force as well. Andy yelped as pain shot up through his arm, swiftly wringing his hand out of her grip and back to its safety against his chest.
“Ouch - what the fuck, Sharon,” he griped, giving her a wounded look.
“Pain upon touch, honey, clearly the possibility that it’s more than a simple bump is high. And don’t think for a second I’m fooled by your delightful attitude. You’ve been cradling your hand as if it’s been crushed by an anvil.” She shook her head with a soft indulging smile, “You are coming with me to the hospital.”
Andy grumbled and groused under his breath, taking his time getting up from his chair, hanging his head at a level that suggested he was depressed. He pursed his lips and cuddled his hand protectively against his chest, giving Sharon a look as if he was half afraid she would touch it again to prove her point. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Just stay clear of me and don’t you touch me again - you sadistic woman.”
Sharon walked with him out of the murder room, her hand briefly on his shoulder, her thumb in a small caress,
“Don’t worry - I’ll let the doctor torture you instead.”
Andy rolled his eyes, “I don’t like you very much in this moment.”
Sharon laughed, the tone soft, “Honey, you are just feeling a bit put out because a teenager managed to both tumble you down and outrun you.”
Andy glared at her, watching her push the bottom for the elevator car, “You are such a bitch sometimes.”
Her smile turned deadly, eyes narrowed, “I’m going to pretend you said absolutely nothing just now because I know you are in a lot of pain.”
“Whatever,” Andy grumbled back.
Once they were in her car, moving out of the parking garage Andy spoke again, “I think it’s broken.”
Sharon sighed, “I know - otherwise you wouldn’t be this difficult to deal with.”
“Yeah, well I hate hospitals.”
“I know.”
“Betcha we are going to be forced to wait for an eternity, sitting on some goddamn stupid chair that’s going to end up ruining my back. And I just know that some little weasel just out of medical school will tell me to put fucking ice on it and send me home none the wiser.”
Sharon gave him a brief look, “I’ll make sure they take an x-ray - at the very least.”
Andy rolled his eyes, “Shit - that’s another thing, Sharon. You’re gonna end up in a screaming match with a doctor or two, I just know it.”
Sharon sighed, “You’ve never complained about it before.”
Andy shrugged and then quickly stilled when the motion hurt; he clamped his teeth down.
Sharon’s hand landed on his knee, the other at the steering wheel, “Will you please just close your eyes and keep quiet; everything’s going to be fine and before you know it you’ll be on your way home again, doped up on analgesics.”
“You mean I’ll be on my way home to your place,” Andy corrected her nonchalantly, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
“Whatever you want,” Sharon answered.
“I want brownies and pain killers,” Andy said and he smiled when he caught her giving him a long suffering look that no matter how much she tried to contain it turned into a smile nevertheless.
“My sofa is always at your disposal,” Sharon smiled at him briefly before her eyes were once again on the road.
“Though if you want brownies we’ll have to go grocery shopping first.”
“Oh,” Andy pursed his lips into a sullen pout.
“I have ice cream - Gelato.”
“Mmm, that will do.”
“You are such a baby,” she laughed.
“Yeah - well, my hand is frigging broken. I deserve cuddling at the very least.”
“You can cuddle with yourself,” she giggled.
“I’m pretty sure you don’t want that, on your sofa.”
“Oh, just shut up.”
“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”
…
Thi-hi
“May I ask why you are at your desk, Lieutenant Flynn?” came Sharon Raydor’s voice, a hint of repressed annoyance in among the sarcastic connotation to the words. It was a voice Andrew Flynn recognized as velvety danger - a voice Sharon usually reserved for addressing wayward officers she had no personal connections to. Andy grimaced, holding his right hand tenderly against his chest and inwardly cursing that she chose now of all times to visit his murder room.
Andy slowly spun around on his chair and regarded the Captain as she approached him, her hands on her hips and a look in the depths of her eyes that did indeed match the sardonic tunes of her voice. Andy grimaced again. As far as Andy was concerned Sharon in full blown-out scorn-mode was a volatile combination when he put his bad mood into the equation.
“It’s my desk,” Andy deadpanned, “where else would I fucking be?”
“The hospital,” Sharon retorted and Andy immediately glared at the stupid chair Provenza had resided on a mere second ago; of course the old idiot had ratted him out and then chickened out and left the scene.
“I’m fine,” Andy bit out between his teeth, his jaw clenched tight, “Not that it’s any of your business, Captain.”
Sharon rolled her eyes at his sour voice. “Wrong,” she countered with a dark smile, “It is specifically my business. On duty incidents involving officers and the general public are my area of expertise. If your hand is broken or otherwise mangled in such a way that you need time off, lieutenant, it is my business indeed seeing it happened while you were on duty, tackling a potential suspect.” Sharon raised an eyebrow as she spoke, coming closer to him. Her arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed in on him with a look that Andy deemed patient even if she looked ready to grab him by his ear.
“This is not news to you, lieutenant. I know for a fact that you are more than familiar with that section of the LAPD guidelines. You need to have your hand checked out, promptly.”
“I’m sure it’s just a bump,” Andy lied - it hurt like hell everytime he so much as moved a finger but he wasn’t about to clue her in on the truth seeing she would only force him to the hospital then, “It’s just bruised, Sharon.”
Sharon sighed, her arms coming uncrossed and landing on her hips again, “Honey,” she said in a low voice, “I know you don’t particularly enjoy hospitals but it’s not up for negotiation.”
Andy glowered, “Are you telling me I have no choice in the matter?”
“That’s exactly what I am telling you, yes,” she punctuated it with a condescending smile, “It’s an order, lieutenant - so you better move your gear.”
Andy grumbled, “You are not my direct superior.”
Sharon’s smile widened in a way a predator would show its teeth before pouncing on unsuspecting prey and Andy grimaced in return.
“Do you want me to call the Chief of Police? Do you really want to listen to the Chief yell into to your phone for a half hour about responsibility and conduct? Because I will call him if that’s what it will take,” there was a note in her tone that made it clear she would indeed call the Chief and Andy knew - from experience - that Sharon on the warpath meant no one stood standing after she had barreled through.
Andy sighed, “Well, I can’t drive in this condition and I’m not paying an outrageous amount of money for a lousy cab.”
“I’m driving you,” Sharon declared with another smile.
Andy sighed again. Despite knowing it was a lost cause he said, “Are you sure it’s necessary? Heck, I’ve spent the last half hour with an icepack on my hand, Sharon. What more can a doctor do, huh?”
There was a glint of something malicious in her eyes and then she approached him, her hand out towards him,
“Give me your hand.” Her teeth looked positively sharp in this lightning Andy thought.
He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on her with suspicion, “Why?”
“C’mon,” she reached out, her fingers soft and gentle on his injured hand. Andy let it go from his chest, his brow furrowed in confusion. The motion made him grimace but otherwise he kept still.
Out of the blue and with no warning whatsoever, Sharon deliberately pushed down her thumb on his wrist while her fingers pressed on the inside of his wrist with force as well. Andy yelped as pain shot up through his arm, swiftly wringing his hand out of her grip and back to its safety against his chest.
“Ouch - what the fuck, Sharon,” he griped, giving her a wounded look.
“Pain upon touch, honey, clearly the possibility that it’s more than a simple bump is high. And don’t think for a second I’m fooled by your delightful attitude. You’ve been cradling your hand as if it’s been crushed by an anvil.” She shook her head with a soft indulging smile, “You are coming with me to the hospital.”
Andy grumbled and groused under his breath, taking his time getting up from his chair, hanging his head at a level that suggested he was depressed. He pursed his lips and cuddled his hand protectively against his chest, giving Sharon a look as if he was half afraid she would touch it again to prove her point. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Just stay clear of me and don’t you touch me again - you sadistic woman.”
Sharon walked with him out of the murder room, her hand briefly on his shoulder, her thumb in a small caress,
“Don’t worry - I’ll let the doctor torture you instead.”
Andy rolled his eyes, “I don’t like you very much in this moment.”
Sharon laughed, the tone soft, “Honey, you are just feeling a bit put out because a teenager managed to both tumble you down and outrun you.”
Andy glared at her, watching her push the bottom for the elevator car, “You are such a bitch sometimes.”
Her smile turned deadly, eyes narrowed, “I’m going to pretend you said absolutely nothing just now because I know you are in a lot of pain.”
“Whatever,” Andy grumbled back.
Once they were in her car, moving out of the parking garage Andy spoke again, “I think it’s broken.”
Sharon sighed, “I know - otherwise you wouldn’t be this difficult to deal with.”
“Yeah, well I hate hospitals.”
“I know.”
“Betcha we are going to be forced to wait for an eternity, sitting on some goddamn stupid chair that’s going to end up ruining my back. And I just know that some little weasel just out of medical school will tell me to put fucking ice on it and send me home none the wiser.”
Sharon gave him a brief look, “I’ll make sure they take an x-ray - at the very least.”
Andy rolled his eyes, “Shit - that’s another thing, Sharon. You’re gonna end up in a screaming match with a doctor or two, I just know it.”
Sharon sighed, “You’ve never complained about it before.”
Andy shrugged and then quickly stilled when the motion hurt; he clamped his teeth down.
Sharon’s hand landed on his knee, the other at the steering wheel, “Will you please just close your eyes and keep quiet; everything’s going to be fine and before you know it you’ll be on your way home again, doped up on analgesics.”
“You mean I’ll be on my way home to your place,” Andy corrected her nonchalantly, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
“Whatever you want,” Sharon answered.
“I want brownies and pain killers,” Andy said and he smiled when he caught her giving him a long suffering look that no matter how much she tried to contain it turned into a smile nevertheless.
“My sofa is always at your disposal,” Sharon smiled at him briefly before her eyes were once again on the road.
“Though if you want brownies we’ll have to go grocery shopping first.”
“Oh,” Andy pursed his lips into a sullen pout.
“I have ice cream - Gelato.”
“Mmm, that will do.”
“You are such a baby,” she laughed.
“Yeah - well, my hand is frigging broken. I deserve cuddling at the very least.”
“You can cuddle with yourself,” she giggled.
“I’m pretty sure you don’t want that, on your sofa.”
“Oh, just shut up.”
“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”
…
Thi-hi