Fic: You Say You Want An Evolution
I signed up for a fic exchange!
...no, really! And more surprising than that, I finished the fic and submitted it on time. Yes. (Also the Saints are 13-0 and it's snowed two years in a row in Louisiana. Clearly the apocalypse is nigh like whoa.)
Of course, it helps that this particular exchange is small, laid-back, and has a minimum 300-word count.
Title: You Say You Want An Evolution
Word Count: 700
Rating: G/White Cortina
Spoilers: None
A/N: Written for the martianholiday fic exchange, for vermin_disciple, who requested the prompt: "Not Neanderthal. Australopithecine!"
Sam winced as Phyllis brushed past him to her seat, jostling his already sore ribs. "Sorry, Boss," she said briskly, sliding his pint across to him and sitting down with her own. "Drink up, you'll feel better."
Sam doubted that. The drinks he'd already had hadn't seemed to help much. Still, what else did he have to do?
As he lifted his glass, he caught sight of Gene at another table, surrounded by CID men, all of them laughing uproariously. Gene was showing none of the discomfort Sam felt. Of course, Gene hadn't been slammed into a brick wall immediately before the fight with Calvert's men, either. "Neanderthal," Sam said morosely, more out of habit than anything else.
Phyllis looked at him curiously. "Dunno why you keep calling him that," she remarked. "Neanderthals weren't very aggressive, were they?" Sam looked at her in disbelief, and she bristled. "What? More to me than just a pretty face, you know."
Sam thought about it. "No, maybe you're right. Not Neanderthal, then. Australopithecine!"
"Australo-whatsit?"
He wasn't sure he could say it again. He took a gulp of his pint and waved a hand vaguely. "Way further back. Maybe an ancestor to us, maybe not. Millions of years ago."
He took another gulp and warmed to his theme. "Tiny-brained, knuckle-dragging, hairy ape of a--"
Three more pints landed on the table. "Impressive figure of a man, is what I think you meant to say, Tyler." Gene pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. He pushed one of the glasses in Sam's direction and nodded at him. "Stopped bleedin', I see."
Sam touched the gash over his eye. "No thanks to you."
"Not my fault you've not got enough brains to duck."
He glared at Gene. "Maybe if you hadn't done a number on me first, I'd've been a little faster. And it never would've happened in the first place if you'd waited for backup. If you'd just listened to me for once instead of--"
"Then Calvert would've killed Davies and we'd have nothing. Give it up, Sam. Sooner or later you'll figure out it's not worth fighting me."
Neither of them noticed Phyllis rolling her eyes, picking up her drink, and making her way to the other table to sit with the rest of CID.
Sam pointed at Gene. It was harder to get his finger aimed in the right direction than it should have been. "You know why the Neanderthals died out?"
Gene took a sip of his own drink. "Nagged to death by the Mancunian Pansy Man?"
Sam thought about it. "No." He was fairly certain about that. What had been the reason again? "No. They didn't learn fast enough. They didn't adapt. They wouldn't listen to the Mancunian--no, that's not--the point is, their en...environment changed. And they didn't."
"So make up your mind, Tyler. Am I a Neanderthal, or an Australian pissin' man?"
He couldn't remember what his original argument had been. "Dunno. Are you gonna evolve into a real human being eventually, or are you a dead end?"
Gene shrugged. "Dunno. Are you gonna turn into an actual detective at any point, or are you just gonna keep whinging every time things don't go your way?"
"I ran in there after you, didn't I?"
"So you did. Why? If I was as wrong as you say?"
Sam blinked at him. It seemed a very stupid question. "You'd have hit a real dead end if I hadn't."
The corner of Gene's mouth turned up. "You may make a copper yet. Come on, Sam, I'll drive you home."
"Not done yet," Sam objected.
Gene looked at the empties scattered on the table. "Yes, you are." He pulled Sam upright. "Let's go."
***
Phyllis watched them leave, the Boss stumbling and arguing all the way out, the Guv hauling him along and ignoring everything he said. Stubborn gits, both of 'em. She sniffed. Men. Didn't matter what kind of fancy name you hung on it; they were all cavemen when you came right down to it. Civilized behavior was beyond their grasp yet, and the best you could hope for was that they'd learn a bit from each other along the way.
...no, really! And more surprising than that, I finished the fic and submitted it on time. Yes. (Also the Saints are 13-0 and it's snowed two years in a row in Louisiana. Clearly the apocalypse is nigh like whoa.)
Of course, it helps that this particular exchange is small, laid-back, and has a minimum 300-word count.
Title: You Say You Want An Evolution
Word Count: 700
Rating: G/White Cortina
Spoilers: None
A/N: Written for the martianholiday fic exchange, for vermin_disciple, who requested the prompt: "Not Neanderthal. Australopithecine!"
Sam winced as Phyllis brushed past him to her seat, jostling his already sore ribs. "Sorry, Boss," she said briskly, sliding his pint across to him and sitting down with her own. "Drink up, you'll feel better."
Sam doubted that. The drinks he'd already had hadn't seemed to help much. Still, what else did he have to do?
As he lifted his glass, he caught sight of Gene at another table, surrounded by CID men, all of them laughing uproariously. Gene was showing none of the discomfort Sam felt. Of course, Gene hadn't been slammed into a brick wall immediately before the fight with Calvert's men, either. "Neanderthal," Sam said morosely, more out of habit than anything else.
Phyllis looked at him curiously. "Dunno why you keep calling him that," she remarked. "Neanderthals weren't very aggressive, were they?" Sam looked at her in disbelief, and she bristled. "What? More to me than just a pretty face, you know."
Sam thought about it. "No, maybe you're right. Not Neanderthal, then. Australopithecine!"
"Australo-whatsit?"
He wasn't sure he could say it again. He took a gulp of his pint and waved a hand vaguely. "Way further back. Maybe an ancestor to us, maybe not. Millions of years ago."
He took another gulp and warmed to his theme. "Tiny-brained, knuckle-dragging, hairy ape of a--"
Three more pints landed on the table. "Impressive figure of a man, is what I think you meant to say, Tyler." Gene pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. He pushed one of the glasses in Sam's direction and nodded at him. "Stopped bleedin', I see."
Sam touched the gash over his eye. "No thanks to you."
"Not my fault you've not got enough brains to duck."
He glared at Gene. "Maybe if you hadn't done a number on me first, I'd've been a little faster. And it never would've happened in the first place if you'd waited for backup. If you'd just listened to me for once instead of--"
"Then Calvert would've killed Davies and we'd have nothing. Give it up, Sam. Sooner or later you'll figure out it's not worth fighting me."
Neither of them noticed Phyllis rolling her eyes, picking up her drink, and making her way to the other table to sit with the rest of CID.
Sam pointed at Gene. It was harder to get his finger aimed in the right direction than it should have been. "You know why the Neanderthals died out?"
Gene took a sip of his own drink. "Nagged to death by the Mancunian Pansy Man?"
Sam thought about it. "No." He was fairly certain about that. What had been the reason again? "No. They didn't learn fast enough. They didn't adapt. They wouldn't listen to the Mancunian--no, that's not--the point is, their en...environment changed. And they didn't."
"So make up your mind, Tyler. Am I a Neanderthal, or an Australian pissin' man?"
He couldn't remember what his original argument had been. "Dunno. Are you gonna evolve into a real human being eventually, or are you a dead end?"
Gene shrugged. "Dunno. Are you gonna turn into an actual detective at any point, or are you just gonna keep whinging every time things don't go your way?"
"I ran in there after you, didn't I?"
"So you did. Why? If I was as wrong as you say?"
Sam blinked at him. It seemed a very stupid question. "You'd have hit a real dead end if I hadn't."
The corner of Gene's mouth turned up. "You may make a copper yet. Come on, Sam, I'll drive you home."
"Not done yet," Sam objected.
Gene looked at the empties scattered on the table. "Yes, you are." He pulled Sam upright. "Let's go."
***
Phyllis watched them leave, the Boss stumbling and arguing all the way out, the Guv hauling him along and ignoring everything he said. Stubborn gits, both of 'em. She sniffed. Men. Didn't matter what kind of fancy name you hung on it; they were all cavemen when you came right down to it. Civilized behavior was beyond their grasp yet, and the best you could hope for was that they'd learn a bit from each other along the way.