Work Text:
NEW JEANS
Barely withholding a sigh, Abbie did her best to ignore her partner’s fidgeting as she examined the new file on her desk. It couldn't have been more than a couple of hours since she'd taken Ichabod shopping, and one less since he'd finally rid himself of the tattered outfit he'd been washing and re-wearing for the past week. Now Ichabod sported a pair of dark blue jeans and a simple white shirt, his unrestrained hair curling against his collar.
For all that - as predicted - he looked considerably better than when he'd first shown up, it had been difficult to convince Ichabod to go with what Abbie had picked out for him. Deeming the jeans 'indecent', he had been discreetly pulling at the crotch for the last half hour in an apparent attempt to give his boys some wiggle room.
Maybe if this had been a week ago when he'd first arrived, Abbie would have been more sympathetic to his plight, but he'd awoken her this morning at dawn (as usual), insisting that sleeping in was the habit of the idle and that they both had a lot of work to do if they were going to track down the Horseman. Add in a couple of hours of relentless back-and-forth about which items he would and would not wear 'under any circumstances, Abbie', and the lieutenant was hoarse, tired, cranky and not about to put up with any more of Ichabod's bullshit.
Another squirm was all it took for Abbie to lose the tenuous grip on her temper.
"Will you stop that, Ichabod," Abbie snapped. She whirled round as Ichabod glanced up, startled.
"What?"
"Stop that fidgeting right now. I am trying to work," Abbie continued, gesturing to the inch-thick file on her desk. Ichabod returned her gaze somewhat guilelessly for a moment, before dropping the act and narrowing his eyes.
"Well if you hadn't insisted I purchase these infernal things, I wouldn't be," he returned, delicately arching a brow. Abbie elected not to point out that in fact she had been the one to 'purchase those infernal things' - it was neither here nor there.
"I don't have time for this, Ichabod," she answered, giving him an unimpressed look. "Go and sit over there." She waved a hand in the direction of the chairs beside Captain Irving's office. Ichabod glanced in their direction before frowning indignantly.
"You want me to sit over there?" His disgusted expression told a thousand words - none of them complimentary. "Do I look like a naughty child to be sent to the Headmaster's office, Abbie?" His mouth fell in that idignant pout of his but Abbie was past caring.
"You look like someone who's going to have to walk their ass home if they don't sit it on one of those chairs," she replied, her stern expression letting him know that she meant every word. After a couple of moments spent eyeing her in clear disbelief, Ichabod came to that realisation, rose injuredly from his chair and walked over to stand beside the Captain's office in a sullen manner.
Rolling her eyes, Abbie turned away to see many of the female half of the force's gazes on Ichabod's rear end. The man himself was sulkily facing the other way, and seemed blissfully unaware that he had just offered himself up on a silver platter.
"Oh, for the love of..." Abbie muttered, returning to her work. Yes, objectively speaking, Ichabod had a very nice rear end. Nicely curved and pert in those blue jeans that set them off to perfection, but Abbie had no intention, accidentally or otherwise, of letting him know that.