Us vs. the Apocalypse
Title: Incident Report
Word Count: 429
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
"You know," Keenan said absently, not looking up from the intricate designs he was drawing on Avery's fingernails, "the longer you two sit there, the less it looks like you're hetero."
"Fuck off, Kee," Mason snapped.
"And the more it looks like you're gazingly lovingly into each other's eyes!" Avery chirped, tilting her head to one side and fluttering her eyelashes.
"You too, Av," came Mason's reply. Sighing, I looked up from the pages of my incident report and narrowed my eyes when I saw the two of them sitting at the small card table, glaring at each other.
"Are you two having a staring contest?" I asked, perplexed.
"Shhhh..." Dixon ordered.
"This is kind of their thing," Keenan explained, leaning back to examine Avery's fingers before capping the pink nail polish and selecting a bottle of bright blue. "You know how it is."
"Says the guy painting butterflies on some chick's fingernails," Dixon quipped.
"One, she's not some chick, she's Avery," Keenan retorted. "Two, these butterflies get me a week's supply of beer, free."
"That's true!" Avery giggled.
"And three..." He crossed his left hand across his ribs and pulled one of his Gryphons from it's holster, tilting backward so that he could slip the gun across Mason's shoulder, aimed directly at Dixon's face. "... pounds of steel says you're still a faggot."
"GUN!" someone yelled, and half the commons dropped to the floor - the newer ones, likely, because I couldn't recall the last time anybody who'd been a dispatcher more than a few months had been surprised when Keenan pulled a gun on someone. However, Dixon flinched back, startled by the noise, and blinked. The resulting whoop of victory from Mason nearly scared me out of my seat.
"YES!" he yelled, punching the air, then wiggled his fingers in Dixon's face. "Take that, cocksucker!"
"You pulled a fucking gun on me!" Dixon barked at Keenan.
"So I did!" Keenan replied jovially, grinning as he dropped the gun on the couch beside him and went back to Avery's nails.
"Aura!"
"Ask me how many fucks I give!" I demanded, digging in my file folders and trying to ignore the victory jig Mason was dancing all around the coffee table. Sighing, I yanked out another incident report, scribbled the date at the top, and leveled a glare at Keenan that he did a fabulous job of ignoring. "Next time, can you please pull out something other than your sidearm?"
"Sure thing, babe." He smirked at me, his pale eyes gleaming, and winked. "I'll put out anything you like."
Word Count: 429
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
"You know," Keenan said absently, not looking up from the intricate designs he was drawing on Avery's fingernails, "the longer you two sit there, the less it looks like you're hetero."
"Fuck off, Kee," Mason snapped.
"And the more it looks like you're gazingly lovingly into each other's eyes!" Avery chirped, tilting her head to one side and fluttering her eyelashes.
"You too, Av," came Mason's reply. Sighing, I looked up from the pages of my incident report and narrowed my eyes when I saw the two of them sitting at the small card table, glaring at each other.
"Are you two having a staring contest?" I asked, perplexed.
"Shhhh..." Dixon ordered.
"This is kind of their thing," Keenan explained, leaning back to examine Avery's fingers before capping the pink nail polish and selecting a bottle of bright blue. "You know how it is."
"Says the guy painting butterflies on some chick's fingernails," Dixon quipped.
"One, she's not some chick, she's Avery," Keenan retorted. "Two, these butterflies get me a week's supply of beer, free."
"That's true!" Avery giggled.
"And three..." He crossed his left hand across his ribs and pulled one of his Gryphons from it's holster, tilting backward so that he could slip the gun across Mason's shoulder, aimed directly at Dixon's face. "... pounds of steel says you're still a faggot."
"GUN!" someone yelled, and half the commons dropped to the floor - the newer ones, likely, because I couldn't recall the last time anybody who'd been a dispatcher more than a few months had been surprised when Keenan pulled a gun on someone. However, Dixon flinched back, startled by the noise, and blinked. The resulting whoop of victory from Mason nearly scared me out of my seat.
"YES!" he yelled, punching the air, then wiggled his fingers in Dixon's face. "Take that, cocksucker!"
"You pulled a fucking gun on me!" Dixon barked at Keenan.
"So I did!" Keenan replied jovially, grinning as he dropped the gun on the couch beside him and went back to Avery's nails.
"Aura!"
"Ask me how many fucks I give!" I demanded, digging in my file folders and trying to ignore the victory jig Mason was dancing all around the coffee table. Sighing, I yanked out another incident report, scribbled the date at the top, and leveled a glare at Keenan that he did a fabulous job of ignoring. "Next time, can you please pull out something other than your sidearm?"
"Sure thing, babe." He smirked at me, his pale eyes gleaming, and winked. "I'll put out anything you like."