This fic is partly the fault of the Garoupa I had for dinner. It had the audacity not to be iced soon enough after it was caught and thus acquired an unafamiliar texture and a rather fishy smell. I sort of had a running bet with Raen about having a chicken in every chapter of this other thing we wrote, so I guess it's fish for this one.
Watchman, I hope you don't mind I sort of borrowed your Nobby-in-the-bathroom idea.
--
Sergeant Angua stumbled wearily into the Watch House, letting the wind slam the door shut behind her. They'd finally traced a fantastic jewellery heist to It Was This Big Flopwaddle's Fish Emporium, and guess who had been sent in to sniff the theft out. She did have the best nose in the Watch, she admitted modestly to herself, but even then, it'd taken her the best part of an hour to find the jewels wedged right at the bottom of an enormous bin labelled 'Goatfish(1) Guts: Be Sure to Don Your Clothespeg', while Vimes and Carrot desperately distracted Mr. It Was This Big himself, who had taken to waving a cleaver around meaningfully. The man had been arrested, the day had been saved, and all three Watchmen smelt strongly of fish. Then again, to Angua, everything smelt like fish at the moment. She sighed. It was as bad as a stink bomb. Her sense of smell would be on the blink for weeks.
Now Carrot had stayed outside to have a private word with Vimes, and Angua had gladly accepted the honor of having the first shower. And it would be really heavenly to empty her boots of Goatfish slime -
Angua knocked on the bathroom door.
"There's nobody in here!" called the voice of one Nobby Nobbs.
Angua gritted her teeth. She was not in the mood for this. "Nobby, get out."
"How did you- I mean, nobody's- I mean," Nobby amended hastily, "I can't, Miss Angua."
Angua growled.
"It's nothing pers'nal, Miss Angua," Nobby said quickly, "I'm putting up a Protest against Vimes's new tax cuts."
"What? But we don't even pay the Watch tax."
"But we pinch from it now and then, don't we?"
Angua sighed. "Yes, but there's plenty for a drink now and then if you don't grab fistfuls of it every fortnight and run off, do you catch my drift?"
There was a pause. "Are you eating fish, Miss Angua?"
Angua counted to ten and then asked, "Why protest in there, Nobby? Can't you, I don't know, protest by Vimes's desk or something?"
"No," said Nobby firmly. "There's a privy in here and a steady supply of water for the cocoa."
Those words do not belong in the same sentence, Angua thought to herself, resignedly trudging out. A bath would have to wait until she got back to Mrs. Cake's.
Carrot was waiting by the door when she stepped out.
"Nobby," she said shortly. "Protesting against tax cuts in the bathroom."
"Oh. "Oh," said Carrot cheerfully, dismissing it just like that. He gave her a quick smile and fell into step beside her.
"I really hate those goatfishes's guts," Angua grumbled. "Vimes gone back to young Sam?"
"Definitely past his bedtime, though, he's probably asleep."
Angua snorted. They walked a while in relative silence.
Ah, the Shades. Rats, refuse, choking smoke of an unknown origin, a pickpocketer going after Carrot's wallet. A pickpocketer not going after Carrot's wallet anymore.
"Not a nice thing to do," Carrot said cheerfully while bending the wound-be thief's wrist back, in a tone suggesting he'd merely found a beloved puppy doing a rather less beloved thing on a nice rug. "Now, if I were on duty-" Carrot flashed his badge, which he'd pinned to the inside of his shirt, apparently he couldn't bear to take it off, "-I would have to report you. But you look like a good lad so I'm going to let you off with a firm warning if you promise not to do it again."
Angua growled again from behind him - or maybe it was her stomach growling. She thought the fish had taken the edge off her hunger, but apparently it hadn't.
The boy visibly jumped. "I promise," he stammered.
"Or Sergeant Angua here will come after you, hear? Now," Carrot released his wrist, "Here's a dollar, get yourself and your friends there hiding in the shadows a hot meal and everything will look brighter, okay?" The boy scampered off.
"A hot meal wouldn't be too bad," Angua said thoughtfully. Carrot checked his wallet.
"Sorry," he said, looking really miserable, "that's it."
"Damn tax cuts," Angua muttered bitterly to herself.
"Ah, the Shades," Carrot remarked fondly.
They had reached Mrs. Cake's establishment. Carrot cleared his throat uneasily. It was their nightly routine.
"Good night, Carrot," Angua smiled, leaning against the doorframe.
"Er... good night, Angua." Carrot leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Then after subtly (so he thought) glancing around to see that no one was around, he drew her up against him for a properly long kiss and for a while, the world really did seem brighter.
Angua was still feeling slightly giddy as she made her way to her room. She knew she had a silly smile on her lips. But she was also very, very tired. Maybe she would just sit down on the bed for a while-
Something rapped sharply against the window. She jumped up, fully awake, head now spinning in a very unpleasant way.
"Who's there?" she hissed.
"It's Vimes," Vimes hissed back. "I need to talk to you for a second."
Angua groaned and opened the window. The breeze blowing in was fishy. "Can it wait till tomorrow, sir?"
"Not after I came all the way here. And at least you get to sleep afterwards. When I finally get home, young Sam is going to chuck Where's My Cow at me and I'll have to explain to Sybil-" He stopped himself and said, "Do you know what day next Thursday is?"
Angua scrunched up her brow in concentration. She did not want to think. "Is it the Day of the Siege of Daffodils, sir?"
"Well, yes, but not the answer I was looking for."
"The day chopsticks were invented(2)?"
"I didn't know that," Vimes said thoughtfully. "What I meant was, next Thursday is Carrot's birthday."
The fog in Angua's head suddenly cleared. "Carrot's birthday?" she repeated dumbly.
"It's alright, I didn't think you would know. It's just that I read one of his parents's letters. Over his shoulder. Um, by accident, of course"
Angua very much doubted that anyone could read over Carrot's shoulder without at least trying very hard, but answered, "I see, sir."
"I've told him I especially need him on duty next Thursday. He looked sort of strained but agreed, which is odd for him because he's usually jumping for joy." Vimes rolled his eyes. "I was just thinking us at the Watch could do a little something for him, nothing big or fancy, but just something to show how much he means to us, you know?"
Angua knew.
"I've told everyone else," Vimes continued, "it's just so damn hard to get you away from Carrot for one second. Uh, I've put you in charge of the whole thing actually, but Cheery seemed quite willing to help."
"That would be good, sir," Angua said gratefully. Cheery would be a big help.
"Anyway... that's all," Vimes finished awkwardly. "Oh, and one more thing... Do you have any idea how old he is?"
Angua blinked. "Uh..."
Vimes's shoulders sagged. "No one really seems to know. Maybe his own mother doesn't know. Are dwarves picky about that sort of thing?"
"I'll ask Cheery," Angua said firmly. "And I'll see you tomorrow, sir."
"Good night, Angua." Vimes slipped off into the night.
Angua unbuckled her breastplate and changed gratefully into her pajamas.(3) Carrot's birthday! She'd never given it a thought. As she slid under the bedclothes, she remembered, next Thursday's full moon...
At Number One Second Avenue, Sam Vimes the first was indeed being hit on the head repeatedly by Sam Vimes the second. And at the Watch House, Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson was fast asleep and snoring, without a care in the world.
--(4)
(1)Goatfish, like their namesakes, really do eat most everything they can get their jaws around, and even some things they can't. This would explain their extremely complex digestive system and the numerous digestive juices secreted, enabling them to digest rubber, concrete, tin, gobs of horseradish and the many other things that citizens casually chuck into the Ankh.
(2)By a fellow who found that spearing his squishi on an oversized toothpick made it much easier to eat. With two sticks he could eat with both hands. The name and fancy hand movements were later invented for the tourists.
(3)Don't give me that but-they-weren't-invented-yet nonsense. Pajamas have existed since the beginning of time, even before The Trousers of Time, so there.
(4)You know you want to click the little 'review' button down there! Also... how old d'you think Carrot should be?