Work Text:
1
Captain Singh was sitting in his office, feet up on his desk and forlornly gazing at the kidney bean and coleslaw wrap that his husband had packed for his lunch when his personal cell phone began to ring. He checked the number, and frowned when he didn’t recognise it. As a Central City Police Captain, he didn’t give out his personal cell number very often, and all of the people who he knew had it were in his contacts. Taking a bite of his wrap and grimacing at the taste, he picked up, figuring there was no harm done. Maybe Rob or one of his detectives had lost their own phones, so were borrowing somebody else’s.
“Captain Singh speaking.”
“I need a list of all of the known metahumans currently imprisoned within Iron Heights,” came the immediate, modulated reply.
Singh practically spat his mouthful of food out, feet clunking down onto the floor as he growled out, “You? Again?”
“Yes, me,” the voice replied, sounding somewhat amused. “The Green Arrow. Now do you have the list, or not?”
“How the hell do you have my personal cell number?!”
“I have my sources. The list, Captain?”
“Get it from your own city’s police captain!” he barked irritatedly into the speaker. He hung up. Seconds later, his phone was ringing again. Rolling his eyes and figuring the emerald archer was only ever going to leave him alone if he did what he asked, Singh picked up and seethed, “YES?”
“Me again.”
“Yes, I fucking well know it’s you,” he gritted out. “Why can’t you get this from the Star City main precinct? You’ve broken into that place god knows how many times to steal information and hack into their database.”
“That requires effort, arrows and time, which I am currently short of.”
Searching for the file and muttering furiously under his breath about how he had enough vigilantes within his own city to deal with, Singh finally opened the document. “I have the list up on my computer screen right now, how do you want me to send it to you?”
“Send it to Mayor Queen’s email. He’ll pass it on to us.” And then the archer hung up without even a word of thanks, or explaining what he needed the list for.
“Fucking ungrateful vigilantes,” Singh grumbled, quickly emailing the list over to the mayor of Star City. “I’m blocking his cell number.”
2
The sight before him was absolute destruction. Singh and his detectives had been called down to an unusual scene in an empty warehouse down by the Central City docks, and it sure as hell wasn’t what the captain would usually expect to find. The aftermath of a gun fight, sure. Maybe even the left over portion from a drugs sale, or trafficking ring. This, a warehouse with a load of scattered arrows and half burnt cardboard cut-outs of random people, some of them his police officers, some of them monsters they’d dealt with in the city, and some of them the STAR Labs employees, was just stupid.
His phone rang just as Singh started to inspect a particularly interesting cut out of Joe West, with a hole singed into his stomach and an arrow sticking out of his crotch area. Glancing down, the captain nearly threw a fit when he recognised the number. “You want to explain what the fuck happened here?” he asked flatly, as soon as he picked up, guessing his location was why the archer was calling.
“Training exercise,” the Green Arrow replied instantly, his voice completely flat and indifferent behind the modulator. “The Flash asked me to give the kid speedster some reflex training.”
“Of course he did,” Singh sighed.
“If there is any property damage, mail Mayor Queen the bill and the owner of the warehouse will be suitably compensated by tomorrow morning,” the vigilante continued.
“You know, we can’t keep doing this.” The captain rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. “This weird dance thing we’ve got going on, where you somehow call my personal cell even through I’ve blocked your number and you expect me to help with all this weird shit you and your friends get - oh, what the fuck! Are you serious?! There’s a cardboard cut out of ME?”
One of his officers had just picked it up and turned around to show it to the captain, laughing hysterically. There were two burnt out holes where his chest would be, and a green-fletched arrow sticking out of his head.
“The Flash brought all the cut-outs,” the Green Arrow defended himself. “He thought they would be useful for the exercise. Which… they were. You can thank Kid Flash for all the burnt out holes in them.”
“But why am I a cardboard cut-out?” Singh hissed. He knew it was immature and a rather petulant thing to ask, but he felt mildly insulted. He liked to think that the Central City speedsters quite liked him.
The Green Arrow hung up on him. Again.
“Archery is dumb!” Singh yelled into his phone before pushing it angrily back into his pocket. That would show him.
3
“You need to evacuate the precinct, there’s a metahuman with cupcake powers coming to kill you all.”
Singh had picked up his cell phone without looking at the caller ID for once, as he had been busy reading one of Allen’s forensic reports. It was rather good, now that he and Albert were working together, instead of trying to murder each other in their sleep. The Green Arrow had somehow managed to get through to his cell again, even though his number was blocked. Probably had that hacker of his, Overwatch, sneaking into his phone and deleting the block. Dirty cheating vigilantes as they were.
“Did you just say cupcake powers?” the captain sighed exasperatedly.
“Yes,” the Green Arrow said seriously. “The Flash is… injured, so won’t be able to help you with this one. I’m watching over him now to make sure he recovers quickly, but you need to get all of your men to safety, Captain. Otherwise you all run the risk of -”
“ - being turned into cupcakes?” Singh interrupted jokingly.
“Yes,” came the archer’s sombre response.
Fuck, he was actually serious. “Okay, right then, I’ll get the precinct evacuated. How long do you think it’s going to be until the Flash is able to get back on his feet?”
Singh thought, from the Green Arrow’s side of the line, he heard a faint angry shout of, Fuck you, I just passed out from hypoglycaemia, another thirty burgers and I’ll be FINE! But that was probably just him hallucinating because of all the awful supplement shit Rob had been forcing on him.
“Half an hour or so,” the archer replied. “If Detective West is there, would you send him out to buy another dozen burgers or so and ask him to deliver them to the Flash’s HQ?”
“Sure,” Singh replied resignedly, completely and utterly done with how this day was going. “I’ll do that.”
“Tell him to mail to bill to -”
“Mayor Queen, right?” Singh furrowed his brow, standing from his desk as he headed out into the bullpen to announce that they were under attack from a metahuman who was planning to transform them all into cupcakes. “What, you two buddies or something? Roommates? Co-workers?” Teasingly, he added, “Are you the same person?”
The dial tone sounded, and Singh figured he deserved that. It was a pretty ludicrous idea. Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow. Pfffff. That was like saying that the Flash was Barry Allen. Completely ridiculous.
4
“Can I borrow one of your sniffer dogs for a few hours?”
“Can you tell your hacker to stop deleting the block I have on your number?” Singh retorted back immediately, sitting at his desk again and enjoying the sweet potato fries he’d managed to coerce Joe West into sneaking for him, whilst Rob was out of town for a few days.
“But then how would I call you?” the Green Arrow asked, sounding puzzled.
“You wouldn’t,” he sighed. “That’s the point.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” the archer responded, insulted.
“I’ve made three complaints about you to Mayor Queen, ya know,” Singh replied, deciding that for once, if they were going to have a weird ass conversation, he would officially make it clear to the vigilante where he stood on this situation. “Told him all about your little phone calls. You know what happened? He laughed at me. He thought it was funny. Jackass.”
“Nice to know,” the archer acknowledged, though his voice was a little put out now, which Singh revelled at. “You are aware that this relationship could go both ways. You have my personal cell number, you could use it.”
“I don’t need a bow-wielding, deranged vigilante on speed dial,” Singh answered. “Why do you want a sniffer dog?”
“I’m trying to prove a point to the Flash.”
“Oh god, if you two are having one of your pissing contests again, take it to Star City and let the SCPD deal with it.”
“Can’t. Overwatch doesn’t approve of the matches. Team Flash, however, are a different story. The dog won’t be harmed at all, and Detective West will be monitoring the entire situation, if it makes you feel any better.”
“Fine, I can lend you a sniffer dog,” Singh finally gave in. If Joe was keeping an eye on the boys, then it wouldn’t get too out of hand. “West can come and pick one up from the canine unit any time past noon. And please, stop calling me. I know you used to have a police contact with Lance, so why not call him instead?”
“He’s the Deputy Mayor now, he has work to do that I can’t interrupt.”
“What, and you think I don’t?!”
Dial tone. Singh slammed his hands on the table, fuming. He was getting a new phone.
5
His cell phone rang. Singh ignored it. He let it ring out. When it didn’t ring for another minute or so, he slunk out from behind his desk and towards the phone. He’d placed it opposite the room from him, so he didn’t accidentally pick it up like he had been doing lately.
It was the Green Arrow’s number.
He hadn’t got around to getting a new phone yet. God, he wished he had.
Grabbing the cell as it began to ring again, he stormed out of his office and straight up to Detective West, who was sitting talking to his daughter and Barry in the bullpen. He looked vaguely surprised by Singh’s murderous expression as he slammed the phone down in front of him.
“Make him stop calling me,” Singh demanded.
“Make who stop calling you?” Joe asked.
“The Green Arrow. He won’t stop calling me.”
Barry snickered. Singh shot him a glare. The younger man straightened up immediately, suggesting, “Have you blocked his number?”
“Yes, but his hacker keeps hacking my phone and deleting the block.”
Barry mumbled something under his breath that sounded somewhat like, Sounds like Felicity or could have been Hound dogs eat bees.
“Why doesn’t he call you?” Singh said, knowing he sounded a little crazy. “You have contacts with the Flash! Why doesn’t he have you as his police contact for the CCPD?”
“Why does he need a CCPD contact at all?” Iris questioned, a small smile on her face as she shared an amused look with Barry.
“EXACTLY!” Singh exclaimed.
“Sorry, Cap,” Joe apologised. “Can’t really do anything about it. Maybe get a new cell phone?”
“Yeah, he can’t call you if he doesn’t know your new number, right?” Barry agreed.
“Good idea,” Singh nodded.
He decided in that single moment that he was going out that evening and buying a new cell phone if his life depended on it. His phone rang again, the Green Arrow’s number lighting up the screen. He thumbed the decline button. He wasn’t taking another phone call, from anybody, until he safely had a new number.
+1
New cell phone. A beautiful, wonderful new cell phone. A cell phone with a new number which the Green Arrow did NOT know the number of, a cell phone which his hacker could not creep into and delete the block off it. He was free. Singh was finally free. No more annoying calls from the Star City Archer, no more ridiculous calls to ask for strange favours or stupid clean ups.
“Good day today, sir?” one of his officers called out, as he strode into the bullpen towards his office, a beaming smile on his face at the prospect of not being harassed by the emerald archer.
“The best, Howlter!” he grinned. “Finally got a new cell phone.”
“That’s good,” Howlter replied, smiling. “New model?”
“Nope, completely the same as the old one.”
“Then why -” Howlter looked confused.
Singh didn’t reply, simply throwing him another smile and marching into his office, already planning out his morning. It was going to be a good day. Hopefully, the Flash and Kid Flash would handle one or two of the crimes committed so that the force had less work to do, and the only thing the captain had on his plate that moment was reading three of Albert’s forensic reports.
He was halfway into the second one, humming joyfully under his breath, when it happened.
His new cell phone began ringing. He froze.
No. This wasn’t possible. He hadn’t given the new phone’s number out to anybody yet. Nobody should be calling him. He had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach and tightness in his chest. He knew exactly who was going to be on the other end of the line. Shrinking into himself and squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered out a faint, “Hello?”, praying to God that he was wrong, that he was just being paranoid, that it was his service company calling up to ask how things were going.
The modulated voice asked conversationally, “So suppose that aliens existed, and I -”
“FUCK OFF!” Singh screamed, before hanging up, throwing the cell phone to the floor and stomping on it furiously. “STOP. CALLING. ME.”
For good measure, he ran into the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet several times.
“I am never using a cell phone ever again.”