Chapter Text
-z-
“My dads have a weird sense of humor,” you scrub a hand over your face, hoping that when you looked up again, everything would be okay. From Travis’ laughter, you knew that that didn’t work.
So you grabbed your phone and hit the speed dial.
“Harvey Specter.”
“Dad, I know you have caller ID.”
“I know you know; that makes this all the more fun,” you hear the smirk in his voice. “I take it you got our present?”
“Dad,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “the license plate says MUNCHKN.”
“What can I say? Your father picked it out.”
“I can’t drive this thing around,” you snapped. “I need to be able to scare criminals – not make them collapse into fits of hysterical giggling.”
“Let me see that thing,” suddenly your other dad was on the line. “If that's the case, then why don’t you just shoot them?”
“Because then all of LA would be dead and I would go to jail.”
“We could get you off,” you hear the shrug in his voice.
You pull the phone away from your ear and glare at it.
You then contemplate throwing the offending device at Travis’ head when you see that he’s still laughing. Instead, you end the call and place the phone on silent.
-x-
You don't pull that phone out again until after you get back to the station; you groan when you see the text message from one Mike Specter…
Your father and I are coming down for the weekend to discuss the proper way of ending a phone call.
-z-
End.