Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Hey, you! What are you doing here? No, no, don't run away; come closer, come closer. Don't be afraid! I may be old, but I won't bite. I have many stories to recount, you know. Tell me; are you here to hear about them, too? Figures… everybody around here wants to know something about the so-called 'Dynamic Duo', especially newbies. Have you seen any of them yet? No? Well, you can recognize rookies easily. Usually they walk around the bullpen, looking as lost and excited as kids on their first day of school. You can almost smell the shyness they radiate as they approach senior members of the squad; they get close, and they listen to trivia as if it was the rarest lines taken from an ancient myth, and then they walk away. Satisfied. They don't talk to us though, they never do. They question everybody, from captain to janitors, but they ignore us and pass by. Damn it!
As I told you before, my partner and I have plenty of stories; stories that we're more than willing to share with others. But 'others' won't listen to us. They think that just because we're still and mute, then we can't communicate. That's not true!
We may be desks, but we've lived through a lot of things.
Every single dent, scar, mark, crack and scribble tells each a different story; a kick in a moment of frustration, a book slammed down too fiercely, or the tip of a pen pressed mindlessly into the wood. There is a reason behind each, and we know what those reasons are. You want to know those reasons, too, don't ya? Well, I think now you know the drill; ask us!
We saw everything and nothing ever escaped our notice; from the first awkward interactions, nervousness and tense fights that gradually faded to leave room for smiles and jokes.
On those granitic foundations a solid partnership was build; a partnership that lasted for years.
If at first they avoided eye contact as much as possible, toward the end they were able to sustain a whole conversation without even talking. Amazing.
It was amazing how expressive those stares were; whether they were angry, excited, sad, furious, playful or simply apathetic, you could have read it in their eyes. Otherwise, you would have never, ever known what they were feeling; they would not have told you in person, under any circumstance or even torture. That's for sure.
Of the two of them, he'd been the first one to quit the job. The day he left, both of them had watery eyes and a frown. Whether they're good or bad, too many memories can make you sad.
The day she left, she still had watery eyes. But, this time, she also wore a delightful smile; the most beautiful smile I've ever seen on her, to be more exact. Have you ever seen one of those sincere smiles that conveys both relief and fulfilment, mingled with just a tiny, tiny hint of sadness? Yes? Excellent! Because that's what I'm talking about… that's what I'm talking about.
If their emotions were often clear to us thanks to their eyes, the looks they reserved for each other were, and will always be, a complete enigma to us. All those feelings mixed up… Bah! A real mess! I wouldn't be surprised if they've had troubles in deciphering those glances themselves. Scratch that, I am one hundred percent sure that they had decoding issues; otherwise, they would have saved themselves a lot of tribulation. Believe me.
Now, I went off on a tangent telling you about stares and smiles and I got lost… Where the hell was I? Oh, yeah, that's it! Talking about glances leads me to think about touches.
Touches are our personal favorites; we haven't missed a single one of them.
They always acted as if touching wasn't a big deal- bullshit!
We know that every time they accidentally brushed their brushed hands as they walked side-by-side their hearts faltered.
We know that, when one of them had to catch the other's one attention, the simple gesture of a tap on the arm was calculated in every detail. There had to be a precise amount of pressure; too light a touch may have gone unnoticed, too much pressure may have been considered a rude action.
Usually when they had to touch, they first looked around them; they had to make sure none of their fellow detectives was watching. They didn't want to be seen. Everybody knows detectives are good at deducing; few people know that detectives are good at making assumptions, as well. They're really brilliant at that.
We also know that, every time they touched hands while passing coffee cups, they'd let fingers linger a little longer than necessary, enjoying every moment of it. They knew they shouldn't have felt that way, that they shouldn't have enjoyed the touch that much. But they did. They kept these feelings secret from each other, and did a damned good job of hiding it, remaining unaware their feelings were reciprocated.
Were they idiots? Maybe, that depends on which definition of 'idiot' you've got. They definitely had blinkers on their eyes, though.
Once, I caught one of them… no, I'm not going to tell you who… Anyway, I caught one of them writing their names in pencil on my wooden surface. Nope, it wasn't the banal and juvenile game of writing your name coupled with your secret crush surname, or vice-versa. Nothing of the kind, this one was more sophisticated; it followed a rigid scheme. First nicknames only, then first names, followed by names and surnames, and so on… until all the possible combinations ended. I couldn't help but notice that the writer's light script became softer and sweeter as the lines grew longer.
Needless to say that this graffiti did not last long. It was erased with a palm as soon as the absent partner returned after a visit to the Captain's office.
We watched 'em walk together for years. They passed us each time they came back in the office with news to share. In all the years they've spent here, they always kept the same stride, and always kept the same protocol. She'd lead, as usual, and he followed her respectfully at least one foot behind.
He dared to walk in front of her only if he had to shield her from something, like a blast of cold wind or a blow from a violent perp.
They used to walk that way, keeping the same distance between them, from day one 'till the end.
They had left the force the last time I saw them. They walked slowly but steadily into the captain's office with some sort of documents in hand, but I don't know for sure what it was all about…
Let me tell you one last thing; that day, I could swear I saw them walk closer than they used to do when they entered the bullpen. When they were finally ready to leave, they stopped by us; they touched our polished surfaces lightly, using fingertips only, moving from one end to the other. When they'd finished, they looked at each other for a long while, with a gaze I don't think I've ever seen them use before.
Eventually, they entwined those same fingers they let linger on us for so long, and left. They did not looked around this time, they did not care if they were seen touching; I guess there was no reason to worry any more.
See? I bet you didn't know that… So, from now on, if you ever feel like knowing something more about them, ask us.
We may be old and rusty desks but we definitely know a lot of things.
Thanks to my beta Purplecleric for her wonderful job!
This story is listed as 'complete', but if you want it to be longer I can transform it into a drabble collection.
Any ideas or suggestions I can develop? Is there a particular tale you want those two desks to tell you? Let me know in your review or PM.