Disclaimer: Yeah, basics. Don't own a thing, the characters are inspired by Batman and based around the non-profit Gotham Central Police Force series, based on Gotham Central Comics and Batman Beyond.

To: Campionsayn. I'm sorry, I am alive and I know this was mean to be yours, like, a year ago. It was slow going, but I think I've now got this to something you would like. Not Harley, nor the Twins but I know you like these characters too and the series is dedicated to you. I've missed you and our trade-offs.

GCPF: Late Night Oil

"Someone's burning the late night oil."

Bullock looked up, rubbing his eyes a little too hard. Sanchez settled himself down on the edge of Bullock's desk, watching his partner with concerned eyes. The squad room around them was deserted, the rest of the officers having crawled out for one reason or another not so long ago and the day shift had yet to arrive. Alcana and Duquesne had chucked in the towel a few hours ago, pointing out that anything they had to do could easily wait till morning to be finished.

Bullock was determined to get all the paper work done and ready to be handed in as soon as the offices opened. If that meant staying awake till nine to finish it and hand it in himself then so be it. He wasn't letting his perp walk on any kind of technicality.

"I'm almost done," he growled lightly, turning back to his datapad. Sanchez, however, wasn't having any of it.

"You're not almost done, Ray, you need to get some sleep or the report isn't going to be readable never mind persuasive." The detective eased himself up, easily towering over Ray despite the little height difference between them. There was just something about Sanchez's personality that seemed to be designed towards looming menacingly, that just contrasted with his normally easy going grin. Sanchez frowned deeply, and perhaps a bit worried. Bullock however resisted the urge to rub his sore eyes and focused determinately on the screen burning into his retinas.

"Common Ray, you've not slept for hours. I know you haven't eaten, and if the Commish finds out, she'll have your head to decorate her office." It was a true, if low, blow. Commissioner Gordon was always concerned with her officers, either their welfare or their results and heaven help anyone who compromised one for the other. Barbara would be disappointed if she knew Ray was neglecting his health to get results.

But what was a few hours lost sleep and a few missed meals to putting a murderer where he belonged? Ray didn't think that it was a bad of trade off.

"I'm almost done," he growled, breaking away just long enough to glance into his partner's eyes before turning back to the screen. "Then I'll sleep."

"Bullock-"

"Damn it, Sanchez! Mind your own business!" Ray shouted, slamming his hand down onto the desk. His cup of hours old coffee tipped over the pad with his notes and the small photo frame that rested on his desk – a god honest photo behind a pane of glass, none of that digital imaging – overbalanced and landed on the ground with a barely audible crack.

The two detectives stilled. Sanchez's eyes flickered from the broken picture, over the spreading coffee mess to the look on Ray's face that indicated that the man was either going to start screaming or have an aneurysm. The photo had been a present from Barbara on the day Ray had graduated from the police academy. His father had always claimed that he 'couldn't believe that someone had a copy of that goddamn photo' and Ray had made sure it was on the desk of whatever department he worked in. It was a photo of a much much younger Detective Harvey Bullock and the then newly made Police Commissioner James Gordon on the day the Major Crime Unit was officially born. Ray treasured it.

"Ray…" Sanchez leant over to grab some napkins to try and block the flow before it could mount an assault on the computer. Sighing the sigh that people made when it was clear God hated them, Nature wanted them dead, and every deity in existence had decided then and there to make their life as difficult as possible, Bullock righted the coffee cup. It was too little too late, but dabbing the coffee a little harder than the coffee dregs deserved, it soaked up the worst of the damage. Chucking the sodden paper towels at the rubbish bin (and missing, though Sanchez declined to comment at the moment) Ray moved around to pick up the pieces of the picture.

Sanchez's strong hand wrapped around his wrist before his fingers could do more than brush against it. Ray lifted his head to glare gruffly at his partner. Normally he and Sanchez never fought, how could they when they were on the same wavelength? Right now however, the detective was getting on the very last of Ray's nerves and if Sanchez didn't get out of his face, Ray wasn't going to be able to be held accountable if he socked his friend. Sleep deprivation did things to people.

"Ray," this time it was much softer, "You need some sleep. Now." Sanchez held his ground, unafraid of Bullock in a way that never failed to impress the man and which was still, none the less, infuriating.

"You're not my father, Sanchez," Ray said lowly, breaking Sanchez's iron grip on his wrist. He picked up the frame, careful to not knock the glass or the photo out of it. "I can take care of myself."

Sanchez stood back, "I've never doubted that you can take care of yourself Ray, but sometimes you need to let other people do that. I'm your partner and your friend, what good am I if you don't listen to me?" The man ran a tired hand over his face – he hadn't had much more sleep than Bullock, and it was only concern for his friend that stopped him from walking straight out the door.

Ray turned back to his desk, wanting nothing more than to kick the whole lot of it onto the floor. He didn't answer his partner. Instead he ignored the look aimed at his back and carried on from where the sentence had ended. Sanchez sighed but when Bullock made no other indication he was going to be swayed tonight, the man stood up and left. He pulled out his phone as he went.

Bullock was able to get the report finished and handed in; the only cost of the whole thing was being pulled into Barbara's office and given a concerned lecture on leaving the office in the office and going home at the end of his shift. He respected what she had to say and agreed with her when it was relevant for him to agree and Barbara eventually let him leave, thoroughly unconvinced that he'd taken a word of what she said to heart.

The phone call from his parents therefore wasn't unexpected, and he was able to tiredly fend his mum off with 'yes I'm okay', 'It's not as if you and Dad haven't pulled all-nighters before' and 'it's not something I intend to do again'.

It wasn't until he arrived home and noticed that his door (which he had locked) was open and the sounds of his TV were drifting from inside that he realised he'd been set up.

"Thanks for the heads up mum," Ray Bullock muttered sarcastically into his mobile.

"I have no idea what you're talking about sweetie, – and tell your dad not to drink till after he's eaten or he'll be up all night with a sore stomach." Then Renee Bullock cut off the line and left her son in the – urr secure hands of his father.

"You coming in or do you enjoy standing outside your own front door?"

Ray rolled his eyes at his dad's gruff bark and walked inside, closing the door behind him. His Dad had situated himself in the living room, sprawled out on Ray's couch like he owned it. Maybe if Ray hadn't admired his dad as much as he did, then it might have seriously ticked him off. Maybe if Ray didn't know his dad the way he did, he wouldn't have walked over to the fridge, picked up two beers and then moved over to the couch, nudging Bullock Senior to move over. Harvey accepted the beer and budged over to let his son sit down.

"Who squealed?" Ray asked after a long drink, "It was Barbara wasn't it? She called mum."

Harvey grunted, which wasn't really a yes or a no. "Does it matter?" The older man countered.

Ray made himself comfortable, the couch suddenly make his body feel very very tired and sore. However he wasn't about to fall asleep with his Dad around, Harvey would never let him live it down. The two men sat for a while, drinking and watching daytime TV – if asked, neither would be able to particularly point out what the show was about or what happened in it. Instead Ray thought about what his dad had said, did it really matter which of his colleagues had ratted him out? Other than planning his revenge, it wasn't like he could do anything about it. Undoubtedly his mum was going to fret about his health for a little while, but Renee knew what being a detective was like and she understood better than most officers' mother or wives what that meant. That wouldn't stop her fretting but it would mean she'd hold off a little out of respect.

His dad on the other hand… Ray didn't think Harvey would be overly concerned if his son pulled a few all-nighters to catch a crook, not since his father had all but lived for his job before he had been partnered up with his later-wife. No, of all the people Ray knew his dad was the one who'd understand the best why he sometimes got caught up in his work.

"You catch 'im?" Harvey broke the silence, not looking at his son as he stretched.

"Yeah, handed the report in this morning. He was in arraignment by ten."

Harvey nodded, getting up for another beer. The older man walked over to the kitchen area, rubbing his neck slightly. "You want another?" He called back.

Ray nodded. The detective could hear his dad banging around slightly and frowned when he heard a weird noise and the sound of something beeping after a few seconds. When the older man can back it was with two beers and a plastic tub, and Ray almost groaned. But he accepted the warmed food anyway.

"So apparently you were up all night, had no sleep and little to eat. Your mum's ordered me to make sure you eat something. Eat." Harvey dropped the tub and fork in front of his son but settling down to open the beers. Ray opened the tub and dug in, not really caring if his mouth got burned a little when he swallowed the dryish pasta – reheating tended to dry it out, he had discovered long ago, but his mum's pasta was still really good.

"Yeah, I was busy." He said around the food – Renee would have smacked him around the head for speaking with his mouth full, Harvey didn't even blink.

"You seem to be 'busy' a lot these days," his father said, "I wonder what the hell you're doing when they're actually paying you to work if you can't get it finished then."

"It's not like that. I do get work done during shift hours, but so many perps are getting off on technicalities like late paper work or uncompleted forms and it's hard to make sure everything is done in time." Ray swallowed a mouth full of beer and eyed up the remote at his dad's arm. Maybe he could…

Harvey rolled his eyes, "That's the joy of paper work; it could be left for later. Or for your partner." Ray snorted, his mum just loved it when his dad did that. "It means you can go home and have a life outside of work."

"I like my job."

"That's not the point; it's a job, not a wife. Don't get the two confused." Harvey scolded slightly, picking up the remote to change the channel.

"You loved the job though Dad, you lived for it." Ray pointed out, watching his father closely. Harvey's face had taken on a blank look beneath the gruffness, like his dad was thinking of how to phrase something he was finding difficult to say.

The old detective sighed, running a hand through his grey hair. "Ray, I did live for the job. When I worked with Jim, the case was all the matter to me. It didn't matter what happened to me, just the perp got caught and shipped to Blackgate where they belonged. When Jim got shot, you know what I did. I shot my career to hell and they practically threw me off the force."

"That was the worst time in my life, Kid. 'Cus without the job I didn't have anything. I didn't have any friends, no family, no hobbies. Nothing to fill my time, I hadn't wanted anything to fill my time. It was a depressing place in my life. I don't want that for you, Son."

Harvey stared at his hands, fiddling with his beer bottle. Ray didn't look at his dad, sensing that his dad wouldn't be happy with Ray commented on his sadness.

"Dad… a couple of late nights doesn't mean I'm letting the job take over. I wouldn't let it get that far. I do things outside work. "

There was a look in Harvey's eyes that Ray knew; it was his Dad's 'do you think I'm stupid?' look. "Really, Ray? So tell me about that girl you've been seeing then."

Ray shifted, swallowing some more of his beer, "We broke up a while ago Dad."

"And? Plenty more fish in the sea, even in Gotham. Shouldn't take you long."

"Dad!" Ray snapped, "I get what you're saying, but me and Aimee are over and I don't what to go out troweling for someone else so soon. I know, I spend too much time at work. I know I don't have much of a social life but I'm a cop! A detective, what am I mean to do? Go to a bar and get wasted all day?"

Harvey stood up, "No, Ray, just do something that isn't police work. Something relaxing. What do your partners do in their spare time? Beside date."

Ray rolled his eyes, "Sanchez? He does basketball, and teaches it. Duquesne teaches self-defence classes and Alcana, well, he just gets into trouble. I don't need a hobby, Dad. I'm fine."

Harvey signed, rubbing his eyes, "Sure you are. Just, think about what I've said Ray. I'll tell your mum you said thanks."

What could Ray say? He was frustrated at his Dad for butting in, since he knew that what his dad was worried about wasn't true. So what if Ray didn't really have a hobby? He didn't need one, he enjoyed spending time reading about current political events and researching new criminology articles, he trained at the gym, he…. He didn't really do anything that wasn't, one way or another linked to his work. So what, his work was interesting….

He didn't need a hobby.

Really.

He was fine. Groaning, Ray put the bottle of beer on the table and, checking the door was locked, decided as far as hobbies went, sleep was a good place to start as any.

And if he found himself hanging about with his friends from Special Circumstances more, then it was purely a coincidence. Harvey gloated anyway.

All opinions are welcome.