Closets
So, while I'm enjoying the spread of the alien donut crackfic, I'm also writing. Just for fun, nothing serious, not beta'd, etc. etc. disclaimer etc. Also, sorry, no alien donuts here.
"So, Detective, I wanted to speak to you about your...partnership."
Ray put on his best blank stare. "You talkin' about Fraser, sir? He's at the Consulate today until noon. You need him for something?"
"No. No, that's fine. It's just that...you and he have become rather...close, wouldn't you say?"
Ray shrugged. "Partners, you know? You risk your life a few times, you bond, right?"
Welsh peered up at him. "Bonding? That what they're calling it now?" he said dryly.
Ray raised his eyebrows. "What are you saying, sir?"
"He's moved into your apartment."
Ray shrugged. "He had nowhere else to go. You saw his office at the Consulate, it was like a closet. He couldn't stay there."
"Heaven forbid I should expect anyone to stay in a closet." Welsh's voice was even drier than before. Ray glanced sharply at him, and Welsh met his eyes blandly. "But you understand where people might...talk."
"Hey, people have roommates all the time," Ray said, bristling. "Doesn't mean anything."
"It's a one-bedroom apartment."
"I got a couch!" Aware that he was starting to sound defensive, Ray took a deep breath.
"Is it a one-closet apartment, too?"
"You got some kind of closet fixation going on there, sir, might wanna have that looked into."
Welsh ignored that. "You came in to work yesterday wearing the Constable's sweater."
Ray was momentarily sidetracked. "You can recognize Fraser's clothes?"
Welsh grimaced. "No, but Miss Vecchio can."
The thought of Frannie's likely reaction made Ray grin in spite of himself. "Spilled some coffee on my shirt, that's all, and that was the first thing I grabbed from the laundry basket. Didn't even notice whose it was until I was out the door."
Welsh studied him intently. "So you're saying there's nothing going on between the two of you."
"What would be going on, sir?" Ray asked innocently. "We're partners, like I said." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "What's got all this started, anyway?"
Welsh shrugged. "Nothing much. Just the way neither one of you noticed when I walked into the supply closet yesterday afternoon."
"Yester...oh." Ray felt his ears heating up. "Um, about that, sir, I can explain--"
Welsh raised his hand, a pained look on his face. "You know, Detective, as entertaining as I know the story which you are making up as we speak would be, I really don't want to hear about it."
"Oh." Ray shifted nervously. "So, is there a problem here?"
"You tell me." Welsh looked at the stack of paperwork on his desk. "Your cases are getting solved, that's all I need to know."
"Then why the third degree? Somebody giving you grief about us?"
"Not yet. For trained detectives, the group around here appears to be remarkably unaware. But if anybody up top hears about this, you'd be looking at a transfer. At minimum."
"Okay. You want we should be more dis--dis..."
"Discreet. That would be good. And if at all possible, keep your displays of affection at home."
"Sure. No PDAs. Got it. That it, sir?"
"Yeah, go on." Welsh rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh, and Detective," he added, as Ray was about to leave.
Ray turned. "Sir?"
"Requisition a lock for that supply closet, will you?"
"So, Detective, I wanted to speak to you about your...partnership."
Ray put on his best blank stare. "You talkin' about Fraser, sir? He's at the Consulate today until noon. You need him for something?"
"No. No, that's fine. It's just that...you and he have become rather...close, wouldn't you say?"
Ray shrugged. "Partners, you know? You risk your life a few times, you bond, right?"
Welsh peered up at him. "Bonding? That what they're calling it now?" he said dryly.
Ray raised his eyebrows. "What are you saying, sir?"
"He's moved into your apartment."
Ray shrugged. "He had nowhere else to go. You saw his office at the Consulate, it was like a closet. He couldn't stay there."
"Heaven forbid I should expect anyone to stay in a closet." Welsh's voice was even drier than before. Ray glanced sharply at him, and Welsh met his eyes blandly. "But you understand where people might...talk."
"Hey, people have roommates all the time," Ray said, bristling. "Doesn't mean anything."
"It's a one-bedroom apartment."
"I got a couch!" Aware that he was starting to sound defensive, Ray took a deep breath.
"Is it a one-closet apartment, too?"
"You got some kind of closet fixation going on there, sir, might wanna have that looked into."
Welsh ignored that. "You came in to work yesterday wearing the Constable's sweater."
Ray was momentarily sidetracked. "You can recognize Fraser's clothes?"
Welsh grimaced. "No, but Miss Vecchio can."
The thought of Frannie's likely reaction made Ray grin in spite of himself. "Spilled some coffee on my shirt, that's all, and that was the first thing I grabbed from the laundry basket. Didn't even notice whose it was until I was out the door."
Welsh studied him intently. "So you're saying there's nothing going on between the two of you."
"What would be going on, sir?" Ray asked innocently. "We're partners, like I said." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "What's got all this started, anyway?"
Welsh shrugged. "Nothing much. Just the way neither one of you noticed when I walked into the supply closet yesterday afternoon."
"Yester...oh." Ray felt his ears heating up. "Um, about that, sir, I can explain--"
Welsh raised his hand, a pained look on his face. "You know, Detective, as entertaining as I know the story which you are making up as we speak would be, I really don't want to hear about it."
"Oh." Ray shifted nervously. "So, is there a problem here?"
"You tell me." Welsh looked at the stack of paperwork on his desk. "Your cases are getting solved, that's all I need to know."
"Then why the third degree? Somebody giving you grief about us?"
"Not yet. For trained detectives, the group around here appears to be remarkably unaware. But if anybody up top hears about this, you'd be looking at a transfer. At minimum."
"Okay. You want we should be more dis--dis..."
"Discreet. That would be good. And if at all possible, keep your displays of affection at home."
"Sure. No PDAs. Got it. That it, sir?"
"Yeah, go on." Welsh rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh, and Detective," he added, as Ray was about to leave.
Ray turned. "Sir?"
"Requisition a lock for that supply closet, will you?"