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It was two in the morning when Carlton slammed the door of his Crown Vic and stomped his way up the clanging, metal stairs and made his way unhappily to his apartment door.
The department had one of their most trying cases since Carlton had become Head Detective, and the Chief had sent him home.
A little girl of about eight or so had been kidnapped from her bedroom two nights ago, no ransom, no prints, but several witness descriptions of the car, which had finally shown up yesterday on fire and clean of any evidence except for the license plate. Carlton had been lead on the close-to-dead-end case, and he'd spent every waking minute trying to solve it.
He'll admit, he hadn't been sleeping very well because he would have nightmares about the case the longer they went without finding her, but it was also because his new neighbor was extremely inconsiderate and played his music all through the night, the sound seeping through the near paper-thin walls. Carlton wanted to arrest him (surely that counted as hindering a police investigation?), but Juliet had talked him out of it, actually saying his neighbor was "charming" after she went over to ask him to turn the music down.
Well, his neighbor had turned the music down, but his voice screeched as loud the music had before. Carlton blamed O'Hara for the whole mess because she was the one who had thrown him a surprise party, exposing where he'd lived to a bunch of criminals and forcing him to move to this apartment where he was lucky to hear any music without the back up of the not-so-dulcet tones of his neighbor, sometimes including a nicely dressed, but clearly erroneous-in-judgement friend of his neighbor's.
Shoving his key angrily into the lock of his door, he admitted to himself that the Chief and O'Hara might have had a point in sending him home, although it did very little to lessen the dark mood he'd fallen into.
Upbeat, perky, pop music pounded from next door, a high and sometimes terribly off-key voice supplying the lyrics to an otherwise purely instrumental song, and Carlton was done.
He had managed not to do it all week, but there was no way he was going to force himself to listen to this wailing crap when he couldn't even focus on it being worth it because he could work on his case and help find the girl.
Hooking his keys onto the rack just in the inside of his door and closing his apartment up again, Carlton walked over to his neighbor's door.
An obnoxiously pink shag mat sat on the apartment landing, WELCOME written in Comic Sans. Carlton winced. Didn't everyone know Comic Sans was never in good taste?
Knocking firmly on the door, Carlton wondered if his neighbor could even hear him over the too loud karaoke music--but the voices screeching along to the music paused and, soon after, the door opened.
Leaning against the frame of the open door was Carlton's neighbor, sweaty from the exertion of a karaoke marathon, in truck pajamas with his feet bare. Carlton swallowed. Kid pajamas shouldn't be attractive on a full-grown man, or anyone for that matter.
Frowning and trying to regain his earlier and very rational anger, Carlton poked his neighbor firmly in his fire-truck patterned chest. "You have been playing this disco music all night, every night for the last week and a half."
"Ouch, detective," his neighbor complained, rubbing the spot where Carlton had poked him. "Isn't that assault?" his neighbor whined. "I think it's going to bruise." Carlton rolled his eyes as his neighbor pouted.
"Well, fair's fair. You've put me through worse with your attempts at singing this week alone."
"Well, Gus and I aren't exactly professional. You can't expect perfection." Carlton's neighbor poked his head back into his apartment, then popped back out. "Gus says he had a dairy-heavy meal, so you can't judge him if he's a little pitchy."
"You both have been 'pitchy' all week. How much dairy have you been eating?"
Shawn, to Carlton's surprise, winked at him. "I'm pretty sure dietary health is a discussion for the third date. Now," Shawn blinked up at him rapidly. Carlton wondered if he had something in his eyes. "Are you going to arrest me, detective?"
"Are you going to turn your music down?"
"I already did, when your partner came by the other day. Jules joined us for a few songs, kicked Gus's butt on some Michael. He's still a little sore about it, but she also brought this dope Welcome mat, so it's all patched up." Shawn paused. "Do you have a housewarming gift, too? Maybe some matching fluffy handcuffs?"
"My handcuffs are solely for police work," Carlton said immediately. "Now, am I going to have to use them on you, or are you going to turn down the music?"
"Sorry, but cuffs are also for the third date." Shawn grinned and called out to Gus, who turned down the music at last. Carlton only enjoyed the sweet silence for maybe two seconds when his neighbor interrupted. "You owe me, though. This was our bi-weekly tournament, and I've just forfeited. How about you pay me back with a date?"
"How about I don't handcuff you and take you down to the station?"
"Fair's fair. I was thinking we'd save that for the third date, though," Shawn grinned. "I'm free tomorrow."
Carlton paused. He didn't come over here looking for a date, although his neighbor certainly was attractive and, admittedly, as charming as O'Hara had claimed. "I don't even know you..."
"Shawn," his neighbor offered helpfully.
"I don't even know you, Shawn," Carlton repeated, "and you didn't exactly make a good first impression."
"Yeah, but that's because I'm great at second impressions, even now in Gus' childish truck pajamas. I know I made a good second impression because I saw you checking me out, detective."
"Carlton," Carlton supplied quickly, ignoring Shawn's observation.
"Carly, I saw it, the attraction. Just one date." Shawn pouted, and Carlton didn't roll his eyes this time.
Instead, Carlton shook his head, a small smile on his lips. He backed away and headed back to his apartment. "Keep the music down, Shawn."
"Save the handcuffs, Carlton."
Carlton closed his apartment door behind him, and only barely missed the blaring pop music from next door and the excuse it would have provided him to go back.