(A bunch of vaguely related oneshots that I figured I'll just stick in here so as not to clog up the main page.)
When they're summoned to a formal dinner, Quinn tries to come up with a way to both make it on time and keep himself and Carrie from arguing. It doesn't really work out.
"I don't need a partner."
He sighs and grips the steering wheel tighter. "We've been over this."
"I'm just saying that it's presumptuous for him to think I need someone to look after me."
"Saul just wants someone to have your back."
"No, he thinks I won't be able to handle myself."
Quinn decides to just get it out in the open. "Have you ever considered that maybe he's right?"
And there it is, her 'you just fucked up' expression. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Look, you're a skilled case officer, but you can't deny the fact that you've also done some things that don't exactly put you in the best light."
Carrie frowns. "Like?"
"Off the top of my head? Disregarding direct orders."
"I don't just disregard orders."
"I recall a time when you heard my 'get the fuck back here' order as 'let's poke the Brody beehive and see what happens'."
She stifles a laugh. "You think you were giving orders then?"
"I was put in charge of the operation."
"And that, supposedly, made you my superior."
"That's the very definition of it, yeah."
"You were there for five minutes and you thought you owned the place. That's cute."
"I told you, I'm very likable."
He's looking at the road ahead but he can tell she's staring at him with a weird look on her face. "You know, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or just trying to push my buttons."
"I like to think I'm skilled in both."
Carrie sighs and turns her head to look out the window.
"And while we're on the subject" he decides to goes on "I don't need a partner either. But I'm here and keeping my mouth shut about it. So maybe you should do the same."
"Fine."
"Good."
Quinn wishes he could just put everything out of his mind, but he can't delude himself into thinking this is all over. She'll find a way to bring up the subject again in T-minus fifteen seconds.
"You're driving below the limit" she says, breaking the sweet silence.
"That's usually what normal people do."
"We're on a deserted road and it's almost dark. There's not a single cop around."
"That's not a cue to throw the rules out the window, Carrie."
"I'm not saying that, just speed up a little bit."
"We're doing fine."
She manages to keep calm. For a few more seconds. "This is ridiculous. Just pull over and let's switch."
"No."
"Why not?"
He looks at her from the corner of his eye. "I've seen you drive when you're stressed."
"Well I'm not stressed right now."
Quinn casually reaches over with his right hand and flicks her nose.
"What in mother of fuck was-?" She stops.
"Carrie, you're not just a little on edge, you're ready to bungee jump right off it."
"And did you think that maybe it's your driving that's causing it."
He frowns. "Okay, what's this all about?"
"I told you, I just want to drive."
"Why?"
"Because your style annoys me."
"I mean why, really."
"You're going to make us late and that's the only push people need to start crucifying us."
"Out of the two of us, who is never late and who is always late?"
For once, Carrie says nothing.
"There you go. Now just try and relax until we get there."
She makes a frustrating sound as she rests her head on the back of the seat. It's bizarre how hard it is for someone like her to just stop being stressed and guarded and always on alert. It's just not in her blood to be relaxed around people. So Quinn expects her to start fidgeting any second now. Which she does.
Carrie progresses from idly running her fingers on her seat belt to sighing repeatedly and messing up her hair. But while he can tolerate all of these, Quinn draws the line when she starts aggressively digging in the glove compartment.
"You mind?" he says, sounding maybe a bit too annoyed.
"Sorry. I didn't realize I was distracting you from your driving, grandpa."
"You're not dragging me into some senseless argument."
"No, what's senseless is your driving."
He presses his lips together and shakes his head. "Fucking hell... What is this? What are we doing?"
Carrie looks at him like he's lost it. "What are you talking about?"
"We're supposed to be professionals and we're arguing like children."
"So? No one's here to see this anyway."
"We're on our way to a prestigious dinner and we're doing it while arguing. Does that sound like something that's supposed to happen within the CIA?"
"People argue all the time" she says, "it's natural."
"No, people argue occasionally. We do it every single time one of us opens their mouth."
"So we butt heads. I still don't see what the big deal is."
"A lot of people are going to be at this event. And if they even sense that something is wrong within our department then we're getting our asses fried by Saul tomorrow."
"Then we'll just keep our mouths shut."
"That never works."
"Then what do you suggest?"
He's not sure but an idea pops in his head the second he catches sight of a discarded beer can. "The only way we can correct this fucked up behavior is if we make it hurt." Quinn reaches over and places the empty beer can on the dashboard. "If either of us criticizes or instigates the other, then we put a five in there."
Carrie lets out a chuckle. "Sure."
"I'm serious."
"So if we piss each other off, we put in five dollars. Just like that."
He nods once. "Just like that."
"And what happens with the money?"
"I don't know, we figure out something at the end of the week."
He can tell that there's a dozen thoughts going through her head, most of which probably involve various violent acts being applied to his person.
"Fine, I'll play along" she says, surprising him. "But I still think this is fucking ridiculous."
"And that's a five right there."
Carrie freezes for a moment. "What?"
"The agreement was no criticizing."
"Yeah, when we get to the event."
"No, we started the second that can touched the dashboard."
More disbelief. "So I have to give you five dollars because I said you're being ridiculous?"
"Exactly."
"That's bullshit."
"And I'm not going to tax you on it right now, but general rule of thumb? No cursing either."
"Why?"
"It's a formal event, Carrie."
She sighs deeply. "This is just-" she catches him raising an eyebrow at her, "—never mind."
Carrie begrudgingly puts a bill into the beer can before settling back into her seat.
No criticizing and no swearing. Quinn wonders what else is left. The answer is, evidently, silence. The drive quickly turns uncomfortable as the car is filled with nothing but the sounds of the engine and the occasionally gravel covered road. Neither of them are used to keeping quiet or saying nice things to each other. And even if it sounds weird, it's always worked for them. For their odd, reluctant friendship.
Quinn wonders if it's possible to move up a notch and take the 'reluctant' out of the equation. They are after all co-workers and it would be in their best interest if they could forge a bond. He decides to make an attempt to sound nice.
"So I saw you training at the shooting range a few days ago. You're a pretty good shot."
The look she gives him is hard for him to decipher. "Did Saul make you keep an eye on me?"
"No. I mean yeah, but not unless we're on an assignment."
"So you're just following me around for fun."
"I wasn't-"
"I saw you there. You're not the great spy you think you are."
"Carrie, I was just trying to complement you on your shooting skills."
She's instantly suspicious. "Why?"
"Because it's a nice thing to say."
"You're not nice. I don't mean that you're rude, just that your default attitude is robotic. And yeah, I know I have to throw a five in the pot for saying that."
He shakes his head. "Save your money. What do you mean I'm robotic?"
Carrie stuffs the bill in the can anyway. "Like you haven't noticed."
"I'm just good at keeping my feelings in check."
"You're emotionless."
He knows that his mask of professionalism is always present but, for whatever reason, it bothers him that she sees him as someone with no emotions. But he lets it go. Because he's scared that, if he argues, she'll be able to prove him wrong.
The silence settles over them again, heavy and awkward, and Quinn hates the fact that he even tried to alter the status of their friendship. Maybe their friendship doesn't need to move up another notch. Or maybe the notch he's looking for isn't on the normal path people usually take. Whatever the case, he promises himself to never try forcing things again.
Minutes continue to tick by agonizingly slow. The road is still ahead, long and tedious. Carrie suddenly leans forward and places a hundred dollar bill in the beer can.
"What are you doing?" Quinn asks.
"You annoy the shit out of me" she says. "I disliked you the second Estes brought you on the team and put you in charge, like it was done specifically to piss me off."
He frowns. "I'm not sure where this is headed."
"I'm not done yet. You're sarcastic, and secretive, and I hate that I can't guess what you're thinking even when you're talking to my face. And I barely have any clue about who you are or what you did before you ended up here." She pauses. "But you're not emotionless. Because when you stabbed Brody in the hand during that interrogation it was just insane, and you can't do that if you don't have emotions."
He doesn't have the heart to tell her that the stabbing was all theatrics. "I'm not sure what to say."
"Say that this is the end to the fucking beer can thing because it's obviously not doing any good."
"I think it did some good" he says, trying not to smile. "You basically apologized to me."
"And if you mention it to anyone you'll be in a world of hurt."
"I know I complimented you on your shooting, but you're not that good, Carrie."
She gestures at the beer can. "You instigated."
Quinn freezes for a moment, unsure of what just happened. But her expectant gaze never leaves his face. He sighs and takes out his wallet with his free hand.
"So does it hurt yet?" she asks, hiding a smile. Carrie knows he never expected to slip.
"It's just five bucks, Carrie."
"So far."
"So your plan is to drag me down with you."
She looks away. "I'm not saying that."
"You are this close to driving me batshit crazy" he says, showing a fraction of distance between his index finger and thumb.
"And that's another five."
"If I let you drive, will you stop baiting me?"
Despite making no promises one way or the other, Carrie gets her wish and ends up behind the wheel. Which he instantly regrets once she decides to take her own route because it's supposedly more efficient.
They hit traffic. And once their car slows to a crawl, her driving turns erratic and unpredictable and for the first few minutes Quinn tries to keep his mouth shut.
While Carrie decides to use the horn as a way to convey her displeasure. "Since when did people stop understanding the meaning of 'get the fuck out of my way'?" She pauses. "Dammit."
Quinn looks at her increasingly empty wallet. "I'm impressed you managed to breeze through your hundred dollars' worth of cursing in just fifteen minutes."
"Here" she says, putting in another hundred. "It should cover me until we get there."
"This isn't exactly how I imagined things to go down when I suggested this."
"Yeah, well you're not the one getting cleaned. There better be a buffet at this thing because I'm almost broke."
All he wanted was a nice, quiet evening but it's quickly turned into messy arguments and a traffic nightmare. With a side order of guilt he didn't see coming. Quinn removes the money from the can, smoothes out the bills and ties them together with a rubber band.
"Here" he says, holding up the bundle for her.
She frowns. "What are you doing?"
"Just take it."
"What is this, charity?"
"It's mostly your money."
"Which I lost fair and square. So if you don't take the damn money out of my face I'll shove it right up your ass."
He sighs and tosses the money on the dashboard.
"Oh for fuck's sake" Carrie says, glaring at the lack of movement in the traffic. "Get moving, assholes!" She slams her hand on the horn.
Quinn lets her get half a minute's worth of horn blaring before casually removing her hand from the steering wheel. "Okay, that's enough driving for now."
"This is a fucking nightmare."
"I know, just take it easy."
She frowns at him. "We're stuck in the middle of traffic that's not moving and we're going to be late. How the fuck are you so calm about this?"
"I have experience dealing with you every day."
Carrie shakes her head. "I'm serious. I think I've only seen you actually pissed once before. What is it with you and bottling up everything?"
"I just don't take my anger out by driving like a fucking lunatic."
"Well maybe you should."
"Our job is about maintaining appearances. Being calm and careful."
"We're not on a job right now" she says, and the look she gives him conveys wonder if he's aware of this aspect.
Quinn decides not to retort. Because she's right. He's so used to bottling in everything he feels that the line between job and off-duty has blurred beyond recognition. And he's gradually growing conflicted with the person he has become.
"Quinn" she says, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. "You still here?"
He blinks a few times to scare away the thoughts. "Yeah, I'm here." A pause. "We're not gonna make it to the dinner on time, are we?"
"No."
He lies back in his seat. "I don't think I've ever been late or missing from a CIA event until I met you."
Carrie stares at him like he's crazy. "You're serious?"
"Yeah."
"Not even those boring Christmas parties that Estes made mandatory for a few years?"
"Those had a fantastic open bar. You don't know what you were missing."
"Next thing you're going to tell me is that you never cut class when you were a kid."
He presses his lips together, determined not to say anything that would cause her to ask more questions.
"Oh my fucking god" she says, eyeing him, "you were the stereotypical goody-goody two shoes."
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"I mean I was pissed two seconds ago because of the traffic, but now this means there's no way for you to leave in the middle of this conversation."
"That doesn't mean I have to participate in it, either."
"So was the book club just as exciting as I heard?"
And now starts the sarcasm, Quinn thinks.
"Or was it chess club? Can't get more cliché than that."
"And let me guess" Quinn says, "you were the bully."
Carrie's amusement dies down a little bit. "So maybe I was a bit of a bully in high school. But I had legitimate reasons for it."
"Like?"
"Self defense. The other kids were merciless."
"Why?"
Carrie opens her mouth a few times, not really sure what to say. "It's... personal."
"All right" he says and looks out the window.
"Really?" she says in disbelief. "You're letting this go. Just like that."
He smiles tightly. "I could teach you lot of things about letting things go. Lesson one being to shut up. But I doubt that's possible with you."
"If we're still keeping score, then you owe more than five dollars in the pot. Because that was a whopper of a criticizing line." She pauses when he notices his expression. "So I was wrong. Thinking you were some straight A kid in school."
He nods once.
"What happened?"
"Maybe this is the perfect time to teach you lesson two of letting things go."
She looks at him. "We all went to high school. Nothing's as bad as we make it out in our heads."
"I really don't think I want to have this conversation right now. Not sober anyway."
"Is this a quid pro quo thing?"
He frowns at her. "Why do you care so much about this?"
"Because if I have to have someone watch my back, then I need to trust that person. And right now I'm placing my trust in someone I only know on the job."
Quinn angles his head away from her. "I was the complete opposite of a good student. Let's just leave it at that."
He goes back to staring out the window but he can tell she's looking at him, her eyes burning the back of his head. She wants to probe him with questions. But the car is only filled by silence, and it looks like, for once, she's trying out doing it his way and letting things be. He suspects there's an inner battle going on.
"It's just bizarre" Carrie says eventually, "because you seem so put together right now."
He arches an eyebrow. "Was that a compliment?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Quinn suddenly feels the need to mark his calendar because he somehow caused her to say something nice about him.
Carrie's phone suddenly goes off. She only glances at it once before turning the phone off and stuffing it back in her pocket.
"That was Saul, I take it" Quinn says.
"We're hours late. He's going to kill us tomorrow."
"No, he's going to kill me. You, he probably expected to be late."
"And he's not going to believe we just got stuck in traffic."
"Not a chance."
She thinks for a moment. "Fuck this, let's just bail on the whole thing."
"That's not going to happen."
"We're already late, there's no point in showing up like this."
"Carrie, I've always done things by the book and I'm not about to start changing now."
The corners of her mouth curl upwards. "You're scared?"
"You're daring me skip this thing? Real mature."
"These things are just a formality. All we would do is rub shoulders with the great hypocrites of the agency."
"You're a really horrible influence, Carrie, you know that?"
There's still a hint of a smile as she looks at him expectantly.
He sighs. "There's an exit a couple of miles from where we are now. We can take it and be out of this traffic in five minutes."
It's all she needs to hear. Soon enough, a large smile appears on her face, and once the exit comes into view, Carrie guns it right out of traffic. Quinn's not sure what she plans to do, but it quickly becomes obvious when she complains about her growling stomach.
Carrie rushes through a drive-through where she orders with an enthusiasm he's sure he's never seen before. She then pulls the car in a deserted parking lot.
"You have to admit" she says, handing him a burger, "this is way better than sitting at a table with a dozen dusty agents."
"The food's definitely not pretentious."
"And the best part is that I don't have to bother worrying about manners."
"I'm still here."
"My point still stands" she says. "So are you ever going to tell me what happened to you as a kid?"
He checks his watch. "I'm a little impressed you kept yourself from mentioning it for a total of two hours."
"So are you going to spill or not?"
"Are you going to tell me what happened to you as a kid?"
She shakes her head. "Not as long as I'm still breathing."
"Then I have the same answer."
"So we're being equally stubborn about this and gaining nothing."
"Looks like it."
She considers this for a moment. "I think I can live with that."
Quinn nods along. They're so used to arguing back and forth that reaching an agreement feels somewhat strange. But what's interesting is that they find a common ground when it comes to being evenly bull headed. And, for now, maybe that's enough.
"So what do we do about the rest of the money?" she asks, gesturing at the bundle on the dashboard.
"I don't know yet."
"I could go for a movie marathon right about now."
He looks at her. "Carrie, it's two in the morning."
But she remains adamant about her idea all the while they're eating, and he can't help but think that she's just having fun trying to piss him off.