Chapter Text
—Interior. Chief Vick’s office.—
“Detective, I am perfectly serious. This is not something you can argue. We have been granted an expansion of our resources, and part of that expansion includes hiring another junior detective. You will help train this new detective, and you will get over it,” Chief Vick said through her teeth. “Am. I. Clear?” She looked, deadpan, at Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, waiting for him to respond. His thin lips were pursed, attempting to restrain the smart or frustrated comments begging to be said.
“Fine. But don’t get mad at me if this incompetent neophyte screws up in the field and gets someone killed,” he spat. Vick blinked a couple times, looking perturbed.
“You are dismissed,” she said with an air of finality, shaking her head disapprovingly. Lassiter stomped out of the office.
—Exterior. SBPD Precinct.—
You were walking up the steps of Santa Barbara’s Police Department, and you checked your watch. You were running late by a couple minutes, but you’d gotten a bit turned around on your way over from your new apartment. That would have to change. Your lack of familiarity with the area that is. You walked through the entrance, a knot of nervous energy settling in the pit of your stomach.
The precinct had a decidedly orange vibe, as you checked in at the front desk, unable to keep your eyes from periodically roaming around the place. You were wearing dark-wash jeggings, a light-grey, 3-quarter-sleeve blazer over a Sex Pistols tank-top, and pewter-grey and black two-tone Vans. Your gun and badge were secured each against a hip, their weight familiar and comforting. Tentatively you walked, turning a corner and scanning the area. There were many desks and what appeared to be an office, presumably the chief’s, the doors of which were open. Various patrol officers, beat cops, and desk clerks milled about their daily business, as you straightened up your shoulders and cracked your neck, taking a deep breath, as you made your way to the chief’s office.
Juliet O’Hara spotted you looking around the precinct curiously and smiled. She glanced at her partner, who was sitting at his desk, looking like his usual petulant and grumpy self. “Hey, Carlton,” she called. He slowly brought his eyes up from the incident report on his desk, meeting her gaze and lifting an eyebrow expectantly. “I think that new Junior Detective is here.” She gestured to where you stood, obviously in the zone, cracking your neck and taking a deep breath before heading towards the chief’s office. Carlton took in the sight of you with mild curiosity.
“Huh,” he grunted. Juliet looked at him disbelievingly.
“Don’t you want to go say hi? Introduce yourself? You’re going to be training her after all,” she said.
“Oh, yeah, then I was going to invite her to tea and to get our nails done,” he replied sarcastically with a mean grin. She glared at him, unfazed.
“I’m serious, Carlton. Chief Vick is probably going to call you in there anyway, so you might as well go ahead.”
“I agree with whatever Juliet is saying.”
A handsome, boyish man with spiked brown hair and five o’ clock shadow approached the two detectives followed by an equally handsome man with skin the color of a cocoa nut. Carlton groaned and stood up from his desk. “What are you two yahoos here for?” he demanded.
“Ah, Lassie! I see you’re your usual perky self! And might I say your hair is looking immaculate like Omar Sharif in ‘Dr. Zhivago.’ I am here because the spirits demand that I be here. They tell me I’m needed, which, of course, is ludicrous because I am sensing you have added a new detective to the mix. Gus is simply here because he’s afraid of being alone, but won’t admit it,” said the brown-haired man. Gus clicked his tongue.
“Shawn!” Gus cried.
“It’s okay, Gus. It’s a perfectly natural fear to have. But you’re not alone, buddy…Because no one is alone. No, no one is alone,” Shawn said. Juliet looked at him questioningly.
“Are you quoting…a Steven Sondheim musical?” she asked.
“Perhaps. It’s perfectly possible. I’m a complicated man, Jules,” Shawn replied.
“Alright, you know what? I think I’ll go make nicey nice with the new junior detective after all, if only to get away from you two buffoons,” Carlton interjected, taking long strides to the chief’s office.
“Buffoons, Lassie? Really?” Shawn called after him.
You had entered the office and immediately noticed the man sitting in the corner to your right and the woman, presumably Chief Vick, who sat behind the desk in the center of the room. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Chief Vick stood up from her seat, holding out her hand over the desk, and you quickly reached to take it. “Hello, you must be _________ __________. It’s good to meet you in person, detective. I’m your Chief of Police, Karen Vick and this is our department Consultant Liaison Henry Spencer.” You smiled in what you hope was a friendly way, turning to shake Henry’s hand after shaking Chief Vick’s.
“Hey, there,” Henry said.
“It’s very nice to meet you both,” you said.
“Please, have a seat. You’ll be working at Junior Detective status and, as you already know, your retirement plan transferred properly. You’ll be training with—Ah, detective!” Vick cried out suddenly. An attractive, lanky man with salt n’ pepper hair walked into the room, looking like he wished he were just about anywhere else. His bright blue eyes assessed the situation.
“Henry. Chief,” he said, nodding to them respectively. He turned to look you over, startled to find that you were really rather pretty. He hadn’t really been paying attention before and he’d only glanced at you from afar. Up close your good looks were much more apparent. He noticed your Sex Pistols tank-top and wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. “You must be our new Junior Detective. I’m Head Detective Lassiter Carlton—Um, Carlton Lassiter. I’ll be training you,” he said, trying to hide his sudden nervousness because your eyes were a little distracting.
“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. I’m _________ __________,” you said, holding out a hand, which he took a bit too eagerly. His hand felt nice around yours, causing you to blush a little, which you hoped no one could really see.
“Well, now that you two have met, you should get started right away,” Vick said. “Dismissed.”
You followed Lassiter out of the office, feeling excited and terrified. He turned to you. “First I’d like you to meet my partner,” he indicated a beautiful blonde woman, who was speaking with two casually dressed men. You followed Lassiter over to them. “This is Detective Juliet O’Hara. O’Hara, this my new dancing monkey, __________ ___________,” he said flippantly. Juliet scowled at him, giving you a smile and a handshake.
“It’s very nice to meet you, _________,” she said. “And don’t worry. He warms up…sort of.”
“Hello, __________! I’m Shawn Spencer. Head Psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department. This is my partner, Jericho Witness. Witness the magic of his shiny, black head,” said Shawn, reaching to touch Gus’ head, only to receive a resounding smack.
“Hello. My name is Burton Guster. You heard about Pluto?” Gus said smoothly. Lassiter rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically.
“No, I’m not having you two jackasses corrupting my trainee! Come along, _________, we’re going for a ride,” he said. He wouldn’t normally be bothered so quickly by Shawn and Gus’ antics, but for some inexplicable reason he felt a bit jealous over you already. That instant attraction was nagging at him. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed, trailing behind Lassiter as he exited the precinct and walked to a blue, four-door sedan parked meticulously close to the curb. However, there was one thing you fixed on.
“Your new dancing monkey?” you said incredulously. Lassiter paused, leveling his gaze on you over the top of the car, as you both stood at the open doors. “I might answer to you on the job, but I am no one’s dancing monkey, sweetie. Let’s just clear that up right away.”
“Sure, if saying that makes you feel better,” he said with a smirk, getting into the car. You slid into the passenger’s seat, working your jaw furiously.
“I have a master’s degree from Columbia, and I am Scotch-Irish. I am intelligent, and I don’t forgive. Capiche?” you said sweetly, but with an underlying edge. He looked at you with a pompously amused expression.
“Awww, you’re making a threat! That’s too adorable. Darn, I wish I’d had a video camera ready because it’s moments like that you should cherish,” he quipped.
“Oh, so not only do you write amazing books, but you make jokes too?” you said innocently. He looked perplexed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you’re James Joyce, aren’t you? Y’know, you looked better with the facial hair and the Harry Potter glasses.”
“You know what? You are making a very good case for me to put you on my crap list,” he spat, putting the car into gear and pulling out.
“Diddo,” you replied, glowering at him darkly, involuntarily thinking that his thin lips were really kissable and his blue eyes rather sweet and piercing. You were irritated by him and attracted to him at the same time. This new job was going to drive you nuts.
Little did you know, it was going to drive him nuts too...