ds_aprilfools Prompt 09 - Jealousy
Prompt - 09. Jealousy.
Fandom - Due South.
Pairing/Characters - Huey/Dewey.
Warnings - none.
Rated - G.
09 Jealousy
Fraser and Vecchio walked into the bullpen, Fraser with big, ground-eating strides and Ray walking backwards before him, bouncing from foot to foot, emphasising his words with expressive hands, almost like a dance. They were smiling, their voices pitched just below hearing. Their usual air of energy and anticipation came with them, causing a little frisson to run through the room. Like electricity. Like something about to happen.
“What is it with those guys?” Tom Dewey asked sourly.
“What guys?” Jack asked, not even lifting his head from the telephone directory he was diligently covering in highlighter.
“Fraser and Vecchio. I mean, what’s their secret?”
“How do you mean?” Huey asked, looking across the bullpen to where Ray was continuing to press his point with a pen and his glasses.
“I mean Welsh always tearing us a new one with “Vecchio this” and “Fraser that”. So they’re the crime-fighting partnership of the decade. So what? How come, huh?”
“Hey, we’re not so bad. Who closed the Juliet file last week and the Bryce murder the week before?”
“No, don’t get me wrong, Jack. We’re good! Yeah,” Tom nodded, leaning back in his chair. “But they’re better. I wanna know why. What do they have that we don’t?”
Jack studied the twenty-seventh’s top team for a few seconds. “Dief?” he hazarded.
Tom clicked his fingers and pointed at his partner. “That’s right. The dog.”
“Actually, he’s a half…”
“Whatever. That’s pretty intimidating stuff to be faced with if you’re a criminal. That might account for some of it. What else?”
“The… uh… undercover issue?”
“Nah, that would just slow ‘em down, surely.”
“What about the uniform?” Jack offered, running out of other options.
“Nope - that’s just a chick thing. Might work with female perps, I guess. Women are suckers for a guy in uniform. That’s why he’s always getting hit on,” Tom said knowledgably.
“He gets hit on even without the uniform, Dewey,” Jack reminded him.
“Losing focus here, Jack,” Tom said irritably, waving off the implication. “What is it that makes the dynamic duet so dynamic?” He frowned as he watched the pair sitting close together, nodding, talking and comparing notes.
Jack threw down his pen. He was getting nowhere anyway. “Well they spend a lot of time together. They seem to actually like each other,” he pondered.
“What are you saying?” Dewey asked, frowning.
“I mean after work and weekends and stuff,” Jack said hurriedly. “And they have this whole silent language thing I’ve seen a couple of times.”
“What’s that?”
“You know. They know what the other one is going to do. They anticipate each other. One of them lifts an eyebrow and the other knows that means circle around behind him and stay low, or something.”
“Right, like sign language,” Tom said, warming to this idea. “I get that. That would give them an edge. We should get one of those.”
“Alright,” Jack agreed dubiously.
“Okay, okay, so when I do this…” Dewey twitched his nose twice, “… that means the guy’s got a gun.”
“What if I’m too far away to see that?” Jack asked.
“Okay, this then.” Tom made a gun shape with his thumb and first two fingers, holding it up in front of his face.
Jack blinked. “I could probably have guessed that one,” he said blandly.
“Too obvious? Okay, how do we say…?”
“How do we say if the paperwork is not filed on the Monroe burglary before 5 pm, the Lieutenant will look upon it with an extremely disappointed, not to say massively jaundiced eye?” Welsh asked, bending down to speak directly into Tom’s ear.
“On it right now, sir,” Dewey squeaked.
Welsh laid a heavy hand on Tom’s shoulder as he straightened. “Good. Good,” he intoned, walking away.
“We need a sign for ‘Welsh is standing right behind you,’” Jack muttered, picking up his pen again and bending over his page.
“So what?” Dewey griped, opening a file and starting to tick boxes. “They’re just better cops than us?”
Jack looked up again and they both laughed.
“Right,” Dewey said.
Jack sighed and took a mouthful of cold coffee.
Tom scratched the back of his neck, chewed his pen and stared at the sheet full of empty boxes for a full minute, before looking up at Vecchio again, who was leaning over Fraser, pointing to something.
“Jack, do you think that Frannie would let us borrow Ante tomorrow?”
Fin
Fandom - Due South.
Pairing/Characters - Huey/Dewey.
Warnings - none.
Rated - G.
09 Jealousy
Fraser and Vecchio walked into the bullpen, Fraser with big, ground-eating strides and Ray walking backwards before him, bouncing from foot to foot, emphasising his words with expressive hands, almost like a dance. They were smiling, their voices pitched just below hearing. Their usual air of energy and anticipation came with them, causing a little frisson to run through the room. Like electricity. Like something about to happen.
“What is it with those guys?” Tom Dewey asked sourly.
“What guys?” Jack asked, not even lifting his head from the telephone directory he was diligently covering in highlighter.
“Fraser and Vecchio. I mean, what’s their secret?”
“How do you mean?” Huey asked, looking across the bullpen to where Ray was continuing to press his point with a pen and his glasses.
“I mean Welsh always tearing us a new one with “Vecchio this” and “Fraser that”. So they’re the crime-fighting partnership of the decade. So what? How come, huh?”
“Hey, we’re not so bad. Who closed the Juliet file last week and the Bryce murder the week before?”
“No, don’t get me wrong, Jack. We’re good! Yeah,” Tom nodded, leaning back in his chair. “But they’re better. I wanna know why. What do they have that we don’t?”
Jack studied the twenty-seventh’s top team for a few seconds. “Dief?” he hazarded.
Tom clicked his fingers and pointed at his partner. “That’s right. The dog.”
“Actually, he’s a half…”
“Whatever. That’s pretty intimidating stuff to be faced with if you’re a criminal. That might account for some of it. What else?”
“The… uh… undercover issue?”
“Nah, that would just slow ‘em down, surely.”
“What about the uniform?” Jack offered, running out of other options.
“Nope - that’s just a chick thing. Might work with female perps, I guess. Women are suckers for a guy in uniform. That’s why he’s always getting hit on,” Tom said knowledgably.
“He gets hit on even without the uniform, Dewey,” Jack reminded him.
“Losing focus here, Jack,” Tom said irritably, waving off the implication. “What is it that makes the dynamic duet so dynamic?” He frowned as he watched the pair sitting close together, nodding, talking and comparing notes.
Jack threw down his pen. He was getting nowhere anyway. “Well they spend a lot of time together. They seem to actually like each other,” he pondered.
“What are you saying?” Dewey asked, frowning.
“I mean after work and weekends and stuff,” Jack said hurriedly. “And they have this whole silent language thing I’ve seen a couple of times.”
“What’s that?”
“You know. They know what the other one is going to do. They anticipate each other. One of them lifts an eyebrow and the other knows that means circle around behind him and stay low, or something.”
“Right, like sign language,” Tom said, warming to this idea. “I get that. That would give them an edge. We should get one of those.”
“Alright,” Jack agreed dubiously.
“Okay, okay, so when I do this…” Dewey twitched his nose twice, “… that means the guy’s got a gun.”
“What if I’m too far away to see that?” Jack asked.
“Okay, this then.” Tom made a gun shape with his thumb and first two fingers, holding it up in front of his face.
Jack blinked. “I could probably have guessed that one,” he said blandly.
“Too obvious? Okay, how do we say…?”
“How do we say if the paperwork is not filed on the Monroe burglary before 5 pm, the Lieutenant will look upon it with an extremely disappointed, not to say massively jaundiced eye?” Welsh asked, bending down to speak directly into Tom’s ear.
“On it right now, sir,” Dewey squeaked.
Welsh laid a heavy hand on Tom’s shoulder as he straightened. “Good. Good,” he intoned, walking away.
“We need a sign for ‘Welsh is standing right behind you,’” Jack muttered, picking up his pen again and bending over his page.
“So what?” Dewey griped, opening a file and starting to tick boxes. “They’re just better cops than us?”
Jack looked up again and they both laughed.
“Right,” Dewey said.
Jack sighed and took a mouthful of cold coffee.
Tom scratched the back of his neck, chewed his pen and stared at the sheet full of empty boxes for a full minute, before looking up at Vecchio again, who was leaning over Fraser, pointing to something.
“Jack, do you think that Frannie would let us borrow Ante tomorrow?”
Fin