Mocha 5
Author: sunsetsinthewes
Challenge: Mocha 5. Since you asked
Word Count: 423
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Story: Polyfaceted; the title of this story is Changing of the Guard.
Summary: A brief interlude in Johnny and Michael's life together.
Notes: This takes place in March of 2010. Prepare for nothing too serious and absolutely nothing plot-related.
***
“Dong.” Michael creates a makeshift peephole in the blinds, stooping to peer over their front yard and across the drive. Two cars, a blue Dodge and a green Toyota, wait just beyond the gate while their occupants leisurely chat with one another. “Bah-rum-rump-rum-rum bah-rump-bah-rum-rum, bah-da-rump-bah-rum-rum--”
“The fuck’re ya doin’?”
Straightening to his full height, Michael glances over his shoulder. “Did I do that out loud?”
Johnny’s lounging on the couch under the guise of reading (read: napping), sprawled in the exact position he’s been in for the past half-hour. The dumbfounded expression is new, though. “Yeah, babe. That was out loud. The fuck was that?”
“Changing of the guard.” Michael returns his attention to the parked cars. “The feds are changing shifts.”
“Fascinatin’,” Johnny remarks, placing a book over his eyes. “Real interestin’ stuff there.”
Michael ignores this. “Do you think they know I’m doing my own surveillance on them?”
“They’re trained FBI operatives.” The book muffles Johnny’s voice, but he makes no effort to move it. “They wouldn’ be able ta find their assholes if it weren’ for the smell a their own shit. So no.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. They can’t all be incompetent. Anyway, Hadeel seems like a nice guy and he’s FBI.”
Johnny sits up quickly, tossing the book aside and narrowing his eyes. “Hadeel? Damn it, Michael, you’re talking ta them again, aren’t ya? How many times do I gotta go over this?”
“Hadeel’s wife just had a baby!” Michael bursts out. “What would you have liked me to do, Johnny? I had to give him cookies!”
“Don’t. Talk. To. Feds.” Johnny says slowly, ticking off each word on his fingers. “It’s a basic fuckin’ concept. Christ, they’re stalkin' us, they’re followin' us and literally fuckin’ stalkin’ us, and you’re givin' 'em cookies?”
“Not all of them!” Sheepish, Michael looks away. “Some of them got oatmeal bars.”
To his surprise, Johnny laughs. “Oatmeal bars? You’re givin' the feds snacks while they stake us out. You’re fuckin' ridiculous, ya know that?”
Michael shrugs. “You don’t seem to mind too much.”
“Yeah,” Johnny relents. “I don’t.” They spend a few minutes in companionable silence until finally, “Well, c’mon. What’d Hadeel name the baby?”
There’s a goofy grin on Michael’s face while he settles himself on the couch. “Basma. I saw pictures, Johnny, and she is the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever seen. Hadeel says...”
***
Challenge: Mocha 5. Since you asked
Word Count: 423
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Story: Polyfaceted; the title of this story is Changing of the Guard.
Summary: A brief interlude in Johnny and Michael's life together.
Notes: This takes place in March of 2010. Prepare for nothing too serious and absolutely nothing plot-related.
***
“Dong.” Michael creates a makeshift peephole in the blinds, stooping to peer over their front yard and across the drive. Two cars, a blue Dodge and a green Toyota, wait just beyond the gate while their occupants leisurely chat with one another. “Bah-rum-rump-rum-rum bah-rump-bah-rum-rum, bah-da-rump-bah-rum-rum--”
“The fuck’re ya doin’?”
Straightening to his full height, Michael glances over his shoulder. “Did I do that out loud?”
Johnny’s lounging on the couch under the guise of reading (read: napping), sprawled in the exact position he’s been in for the past half-hour. The dumbfounded expression is new, though. “Yeah, babe. That was out loud. The fuck was that?”
“Changing of the guard.” Michael returns his attention to the parked cars. “The feds are changing shifts.”
“Fascinatin’,” Johnny remarks, placing a book over his eyes. “Real interestin’ stuff there.”
Michael ignores this. “Do you think they know I’m doing my own surveillance on them?”
“They’re trained FBI operatives.” The book muffles Johnny’s voice, but he makes no effort to move it. “They wouldn’ be able ta find their assholes if it weren’ for the smell a their own shit. So no.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. They can’t all be incompetent. Anyway, Hadeel seems like a nice guy and he’s FBI.”
Johnny sits up quickly, tossing the book aside and narrowing his eyes. “Hadeel? Damn it, Michael, you’re talking ta them again, aren’t ya? How many times do I gotta go over this?”
“Hadeel’s wife just had a baby!” Michael bursts out. “What would you have liked me to do, Johnny? I had to give him cookies!”
“Don’t. Talk. To. Feds.” Johnny says slowly, ticking off each word on his fingers. “It’s a basic fuckin’ concept. Christ, they’re stalkin' us, they’re followin' us and literally fuckin’ stalkin’ us, and you’re givin' 'em cookies?”
“Not all of them!” Sheepish, Michael looks away. “Some of them got oatmeal bars.”
To his surprise, Johnny laughs. “Oatmeal bars? You’re givin' the feds snacks while they stake us out. You’re fuckin' ridiculous, ya know that?”
Michael shrugs. “You don’t seem to mind too much.”
“Yeah,” Johnny relents. “I don’t.” They spend a few minutes in companionable silence until finally, “Well, c’mon. What’d Hadeel name the baby?”
There’s a goofy grin on Michael’s face while he settles himself on the couch. “Basma. I saw pictures, Johnny, and she is the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever seen. Hadeel says...”
***