SUMMER HEAT.
I own nothing. LA Noire belongs to Rockstar.
Pairing: Roy Earle / Cole Phelps
"Is there something on my face, Roy?"
Roy Earle snapped out of his trance, blinking profusely. They were currently in his Cadillac, Cole in the driver's seat with his hands not on the wheel, but clutching his little notebook like usual. The LA heat was getting to his head, his thick fedora feeling like it wrapped tightly around his slicked back hair. He muttered half-heartedly, "Your eyes are too close together, Cole."
Phelps wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes in annoyance, "Another comment on my appearance," he deadpanned as he lightly shook his head from side to side in disapproval.
"Yeah, yeah…" He flapped his hand up and down, hoping to dry the sweat. "Step on it – I'm practically melting right now." He almost cursed himself inwardly for having purchased a car with leather seats in LA. At first glance, they looked nice and accommodating. Accidental spills could easily be wiped off the smooth surface and Roy could live with the comfort that they wouldn't wear away as fast as the cheap fabric seats of other cars. Yet to his displeasure, they overheated heavily under the sun, and Los Angeles was all about the sun. "Turn the AC on," he grumbled as he pointed to it.
"You could've dressed lighter," Cole said, starting up the engine while Roy continued to flap his hand impatiently on the side.
"I'd sooner go naked than follow wardrobe advice from the likes of you," Roy said dryly. He would've accompanied a sneer to the jibe, but his face was stinging from being under the sun so long. He instead wordlessly pointed to the AC once more.
Cole rolled his eyes, reluctantly turning the knob to put it to maximum. He usually argued back when Roy was being even more of a demanding prick, but he was also wearing thin due to the sleepless night on the job.
They had taken turns driving as they trailed one suspect to another, Cole driving the majority of them as Roy dozed off comfortably beside him. He had developed slight bags under his eyes, but he was adamant on staying awake until the end of the case. That is, if they could catch a break once in a while. The trail of crumbs left for them were quickly being eaten away as they reached one dead end after another.
It wasn't long until Roy made a snide remark pertaining to the success rate of the case. "At this rate, the culprits are probably a thousand miles from this place, partner," Roy groaned, his arms placed comfortably behind his neck. He was practically lounging in the passenger rate, Cole his personal driver.
Cole was straining his eyelids to stay open. His voice came out groggy but stern, "Drug dealers without an ounce of a conscience supplying minors. Four are dead, many are hospitalized." He added: "Traces of the drug are unidentifiable. Manmade most likely."
"Yeah, I was in the briefing room too, Cole," Roy said idly, peering out to the side. He turned his head back to face him, "What of it?"
He furrowed his brow as if Roy was questioning the most evident thing in the world. "As in, they are highly immoral and should be put behind bars," Cole said matter-of-factly.
Roy exhaled noisily, purposely in earshot of Cole, "So should many others." His tone was very serious, as if he were lecturing Cole. "…But not every scumbag is so neatly put behind bars. Many criminals slide, Cole. You need to get that through that thick skull of yours."
Cole's lips twisted in to make a sour face, "So are you suggesting we simply give up, Officer?"
He snorted. Cole always had this habit of referring to Roy with a title of Officer or Detective whenever they were at their most severe tumbles, reducing Roy to just his occupation. He put on a voice of mock kindliness. "No, no… I'm just suggesting that this might be a dead end case." His voice sounded slick as oil, "If worst comes to worst, Phelps, interrogate a man enough and he might confess to things unheard of."
Does he trust me this much to suggest such things openly? Cole flinched. Then again, it isn't a big secret how corrupt of a cop Roy is. He stayed quiet and Roy continued, mistaking the appalled silence for quiet consideration.
"There's a child rapist behind bars right now. Also known for supplying street drugs to minors," he quietly spoke. His eyes fleeted over Cole dreamily. "No one's going to miss him."
"Roy, the cases we solve are to be ruled from merit and solid evidence, not from fear."
"Bullshit," Roy grumbled unclearly. "Everyone has a dream, Cole, and yours seems to be some mediocre quest for respect and admiration." So, why not a short cut?
Cole spoke louder than intended, "And yours of status and wealth. Whose is more honorable, Roy?"
"Honor, Cole? Are we going to be knighted now?" Roy bit back the acidity seeping into his words and tried to sound reliable, but what was done was done, and Cole seemed aggravated. "… Cole. We've been partners long enough. I'm willing to extend a bit of trust if you are."
"Oh? That's not something you hear every day," Cole grumbled. Roy was hardly someone he wanted to voice the truth to, not when he was still unable to do it to people he thought closest. The last thing he wanted to do was to reciprocate the other's bizarre attempts at friendship.
"God, Cole… Stop, you're hurting my feelings," Roy said unenthusiastically.
"I find it amazing how you still talk feelings when you turn a blind eye to the worst of humanity." He had his eyes fixed on the road, unwavering.
"I snub my cigar out every time, Cole."
Cole blinked twice. He seemed puzzled. "What are you –?"
Roy's stark blue eyes dimmed. He continued, interrupting Cole. "But, I don't take up the firefighter outfit and rush into a building already ablaze. Though God knows I'd look damn good doing that."
He was flabbergasted. Most men would be too ashamed to admit to such cowardice, to admit to such selfishness, but Roy was doing so brazenly, as if it were something perfectly acceptable. He didn't even try to rebuff it out of denial; he was at complete ease being self-absorbed. Cole felt his jaw slacking in disbelief, "You're supposed to put the lives of others above your own."
Roy's patience was growing thin, and the rumbling in his voice revealed it. "I hold up arrest warrants to every petty gangster and drug lord littering the town, garner their hatred… And you know what'll happen? People will find me dead in my shower the next day, records will say I slipped on soap and hit my head on the tiles, and that'll be the end of me." His voice went a little weighty, not the lighthearted tone of usual. Roy was sounding more akin to a hardened veteran than his usual flighty celebrity, "The reward for selflessness is death here."
Cole thought silently to himself, Sounds like you speak from experience.
Roy brought his cigarette to his lips. "If every officer went by your vision of justice..."
Cole shuffled, stifling his words and adjusting his shoulders.
"They'd be dead, Cole. There wouldn't be an LAPD." He exhaled, the smell of smoke suddenly burning Cole's lungs.
That left Cole seething with rage, his open-mindedness gone. Every night, he had recurring nightmares of his mistakes during his recruitment in the Marine Corps. He was foolish at the time, so self-assured about leadership skills he never possessed in the first place. He had commanded his troop to failure, made grievous mistakes kept hidden to this day, yet he was still the one to be honored medals and given titles clearly undeserved. And Roy, someone who was opposite everything Cole believed in, someone who didn't know an ounce about him personally, was still capable of seeing his flaws bright as day. He cursed him spitefully, "Go to hell."
Roy chuckled, then replied seamlessly as if he'd been readying the counter response, "I'd rather live a long, fulfilling life and go to hell, than go to heaven a saint now."
Cole found himself at a loss for words. He was having a hard time trying to get back on track. For a second there, he almost forgot where they were going and fought the silent urge to check his notebook.
Sensing the edgy air about Cole, Roy scoffed lowly, "You and your black and white ideals." He chuckled darkly, "How could I keep myself amused otherwise?"
"I amuse you now, Roy? I thought we couldn't stand the sight of each other," Cole said cynically. He was being frank about his stance with the corrupt detective. Roy had little sense of honor, not bothering to hide the deceit and fraud that surrounded his title as most senior detective in Ad Vice. Frankly, he was cruel, intimidating to a fault to hapless suspects who'd often yield more out of fear than guilt. He found the good cop, bad cop routine futile as Roy's bad cop overshadowed him almost every time. Cole wondered how he had managed to achieve such a rank in the first place, noting how little official merit he possessed as a man of the law. Was he a close relative of someone in the department? Or the son of some well off corporate executive? Or, possibly, was Roy at some point in time a truly honest cop?
Roy began to laugh, each one bouncing off the other softly.
Cole flinched but managed to mask his surprise with idle shuffling in his seat. The timing had been perfect, as if Roy himself doubted his own innocence. Although still in a sour mood, Cole had most of his resentment buried at that point. He was to only gift the other cold indifference.
Roy's laugh had died down at that point, and Cole felt eyes boring into his side.
He wiped absentmindedly at the sweat at his brow. Cole's thoughts seem to be occupied by said man more than usual nowadays. Roy chatted up Cole left and right day by day, probing his past or congratulating him for his achievements, his tone biting or affable, a devious glint always accompanying his ice cold gaze. And not before long, Cole had noted that Roy had capably kept up that defense mechanism himself.
From the inner flap of his coat, Roy removed a cigarette from a concealed pocket and lit it as Cole pulled in at a red light. The heat was still scathing, but luckily they were out of the suburbs and under the shade of the tall buildings looming over them. He inhaled slowly and breathed out calmly, a puff of smoke travelling out in a swirling motion over his face. He gave one concise chuckle and his reply came belatedly, "Well, I tend to enjoy the view."
Cole had almost forgotten their line of conversation, but as soon as the bulb lit over his head, he coughed nervously. He tried to pass it off as aversion to the cigarette smoke. "I beg your pardon?" Typically, Roy would say unusually flirtatious lines from time to time, such as referring to their cases as "dates," but this time it felt oddly different. Cole would generally attribute this kind of behavior to Roy's contemptuous nature, but sometimes, like this instance, it would feel bizarrely intimate. Cole felt ambivalent. How can he just do that? How can he just turn around and pretend nothing happened? He wanted to diagnose the other with mood swings, but even that didn't seem to be the case. Roy just didn't seem to give a fuck about anything or anyone.
Roy closed his eyes and leaned back, cigarette still in his hand. "You heard me." His smirk was gone, his mouth relaxing as it exhaled another lungful of tobacco. He didn't bother to acknowledge Cole with a sideways glance, choosing instead to look vaguely interested at the label wrapping around the disposable lighter. He couldn't recall the name of the restaurant he had received it from.
Cole was beginning to grow ever so slightly nervous from the tense atmosphere. A small bead of sweat travelled down from his forehead to the nape of his neck, and he silently gulped. Before he could stop himself, Cole blurted out a question, "And just what is there to view?"
Although he wasn't going to be admitting it any time soon, Roy was caught off guard, feeling considerably flustered at such a direct question to his antics. Cole hadn't called to attention any of Roy's teasing before, so he was understandably surprised to see the other starting now. He hadn't meant much by the flirtatious banter, but it was rare to see a side of Cole that was so openly baffled and so genuinely curious. It was almost cute. Almost. "My, my, Cole, you undersell yourself. You're not exactly what I'd call ugly." He took a drag at his cigarette.
"I'm so flattered, Roy," Cole said with a straight face.
"Were you expecting a nicer answer, Cole?"
Cole quirked a brow; he didn't particularly anticipate anything from the likes of Roy, but he still felt his shoulders relax from mild disappointment. Cole was stunned at himself. What had he expected? "I don't look for much in you, even more so with nice. It's a concept lost on you."
Roy looked as smug as a snake.
"So stop it with the phony praise; you don't need to curry favor with me." Roy wasn't explicitly denying anything; in fact, he was insinuating things of a topic that Cole never veered into before, a territory he never planned on ever venturing into, more than ever with a man such as Roy.
"Cole, getting humble again, I see."
Cole didn't like feeling scrutinized. "I'm afraid the same can't be said of you," he snapped.
Roy grunted, dismissing his comment, "With that kind of character, looks may be the only part that remotely shines for you, partner."
"Did I ask your opinion?"
"You didn't, but I find myself with more than enough freedom to say so as I please," Roy smirked.
Cole would at least give him the benefit of the doubt despite the likelihood that Roy was once more just pulling his leg. "Well, yes, but it's not exactly common for a man to compliment another man on his looks."
He easily pushed the comment aside, "Well, I'm not what you call common." Another puff of smoke.
"… That's not what I meant," Cole mumbled, clearly disconcerted. His palms started to accumulate sweat while over the wheel. He hissed at the annoyance and casually wiped them over his pants.
Roy felt a grin creeping up over his lips. He could grasp some level of appeal in provoking Cole like this; it was so personal, so invasive. He was goading him into expressing any kind of emotion, emotion severely lacking aspect in many of their distant chatter. "What did you mean?"
Cole didn't have it in him to openly question Roy on so taboo a topic. His orientation was none of his business, but Roy seemed like he was trying to make it his business. He constantly kept his preference ambiguous what with his misogyny and general dislike of mankind. It was probably most plausible that Roy loved only himself and material things, but he had Cole constantly guessing. "I meant nothing by it."
"So you said all those words, but they all meant nothing," he teased. "That's truly a first."
"Fuck off, Roy."
How is it so far? They're surprisingly hard to write.