Whew, okay. I was prompted with "Olivia and Juice, au where no one's in an MC, fake married." So, um. Here?
I'm sticking to short chapters for this one bc honestly this is just for fun. It's not gonna be a sprawling epic like cwmt or itb. It's just, ya know. Something to do. :)
Smart Ass Whiz Kid
Captain Roosevelt had asked Juice to come up with a shortlist of people he might want for the assignment, and he'd agreed—reluctantly. He knew that was a better idea than letting Roosevelt or someone else do it, because this whole operation had been his idea. He knew the type of partner he was looking for better than anyone.
Roosevelt would get final choice, of course, but in the meantime Juice was combing through pages of personnel files hoping he'd stumble on who he needed.
Smart. Undercover experience. Fairly close to his age so they could believably be husband and wife.
He added another name to the email he was composing and flipped to the next file.
"Olivia Gable," he muttered aloud. Homicide. Great. She'd love slummin' it on a vice task force. Except, he noticed, and looked a little harder, she'd been vice before she got her shield.
His eyes widened as he read further. She'd been part of taking down the Glazkov syndicate. Deep cover for three years. Hum. He checked her DOB. Two years younger than him; that would work. Also kind of impressive, homicide at her age.
Juice had been given the option to go to homicide when he moved from cyber crimes, but he'd chosen narcotics instead. He didn't like…dead people. Autopsies. Informing the family. Dead babies, that had to be the worst. He saw enough dead babies working narcotics.
He switched to his email and put an asterisk beside Gable's name. There were ten on the list, and she seemed the most qualified. Ticked the most boxes. Roosevelt had assured him he could pull from any department he wanted, so he assumed that meant a hotshot homicide detective with a high close rate.
He took a few more minutes to write out the pros and cons for each name on the list, then after a quick proofread he sent it. He figured it would be a few days before he heard anything, so he went back to what he'd been working on before Roosevelt requested the names: a briefing packet on the mission as a whole, including deep background on the Teller family.
Juice got so wrapped up in a spreadsheet he was making that tracked the money laundering (follow the money; it always got you were you wanted) that he was surprised when Roosevelt appeared in his cubby.
"Captain," he said. "What can I do for you?"
"I got your email."
"Good. Anybody seem promising?"
"Yep," he said. "I noticed Olivia Gable's name. You know her?"
Juice frowned a little. "Nope. I remember the name, though. From the Glazkov thing."
"Yeah," he said. "Everybody remembers that shit. Made her a golden girl just like the Lin case did for you."
"Is that good or bad?"
Roosevelt shook his head. "She worked under me in vice. Pain in the ass, but a good cop." He cleared his throat and dropped a file on Juice's desk. "Her LT pushed her hard, and while he's a goddamn pain in the ass, too, Morrow knows his men."
"Clay Morrow? The two-three?"
"Yup. Good to know you've been payin' attention." Roosevelt paused and tapped the folder. "I'm recommending Gable for the task force. Take a closer look at her file, and if anything red flags for you let me know. Otherwise she's in."
"Um. Yeah, sure. I wasn't really expecting a decision so fast."
Roosevelt shrugged. "Brass has a real hard-on for the Tellers."
"No offense, sir, but aren't you brass?"
"Shut up, Ortiz. No one likes a smart ass."
He grinned and opened the file. "Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir."
"Get to work, smart ass. We'll be bringing Gable in sometime this afternoon, and I want you ready to brief her. Okay?"
"No problem."
Juice watched him go a moment before he turned back to his computer. Okay. Olivia Gable. He could work with that.
"You cannot be fucking serious."
"Look, Gable, don't fuck with me. These orders come from way up. My hands are tied."
She rolled her eyes and wondered if he could possibly fit more cliches into one brief statement. "Lieutenant—"
"We've been working this case for six goddamn months. You wanna blow it now because you're squeamish to shack up with a boy? I know you prefer pussy—"
"Sir, that's hardly appropriate."
He gave a brief tilt of his head in acknowledgement. "Sorry, sorry."
"My sexual orientation has nothing to do with anything. I just think it's ridiculous that I would have to pretend to be married to some guy I barely fucking know. A narcotics detective. Are you kidding?"
"This can do great things for your career. You get that? You play a part in taking down the Tellers and you're made. Sergeants exam'll be a formality. Lieutenant in no time and you're takin' my goddamn job."
"Since when do you care about anything except my clearance rate?"
He glowered at her. "Quit bein' such a pain in my ass. You ever think maybe I just want you out of my precinct for five fuckin' minutes?"
"That did occur to me, yes," she said, her tone dry.
The phone next to his elbow rang and he held up a finger to hush her. "Morrow," he barked into the handset. He listened for a while, nodding here and there. Finally, "Understood. She's on her way now."
He hung up and fixed her with a hard look. "I'm sorry about the pussy thing. That was out of line. But, Olivia, it's done. They want you down at the command center now so they can brief you and Ortiz on the details."
"Fuck," she said on a sigh. She scrubbed a hand down her face and gave a weary nod. "Who's gonna take care of Telford?"
The lieutenant smirked at her. "Your partner'll be fine. I'll put him with Trager."
"Oh God," she said. "Good luck to you."
He grimaced and waved her out. "Don't give 'em shit down there, Gable. Make us look good."
She cast him a scornful look over her shoulder. "I always make you look good, LT."
She stopped by her desk to grab her weapon and bag, and Chibs cast her a curious look. "Where the fuck you think you're goin'?"
"They're putting me on the task force."
"The Teller case?"
"That's the one," she said with a scowl.
"Why you look so pissed, lass? That's hot shit."
She propped a hip on his desk and crossed her arms. "It's fucking sexist bullshit. You heard of that kid in narcotics, Ortiz? Came from computer crimes? A real smart ass whiz kid."
"You're a real smart ass whiz kid," Chibs said.
Her glare lacked heat because it was largely true: at barely thirty, Olivia was young to have her shield, much less in homicide. But she was smart and she was good at her job. She had a mouth on her, and a temper to go with it, but that's why she'd been partnered with Chibs. He'd been with the Yard before moving his family stateside, and his experience was a steadying influence on the hot-headed rookie detective. As steadying as one got with her, anyway.
Chibs had heard of the Ortiz kid: he'd made his name in cyber crimes, like Olivia had said, and recently he'd been involved in a major bust with the Lin crime family. Now, apparently, he was on the Teller case: another crime family, involved in everything from drugs to guns to women, and led by the matriarch and all-around badass bitch, Gemma Teller, with her son Jackson as her second.
"So what about him?" Chibs said when she didn't answer.
She hitched a shoulder and lowered her voice. "They've come up with some half-baked…it's so fucking stupid I can hardly even say it." She gritted her teeth. "Apparently as part of the undercover portion of the operation, they need a pair of cops to pose as a married couple."
Chibs blinked at her, and as comprehension slowly dawned he almost choked. "Holy shite," he muttered. "You and this Ortiz kid?"
"Yup," he said.
"Why you? There's got to be another female cop on the detail. Or, fuck, a male cop. It's 2014."
"I don't know. I guess something in my record made them think I'd be ideal sweet Irish wife to Ortiz' Puerto Rican player."
Chibs snorted. "Someone downtown hasn't had the pleasure of your acquaintance."
"Shut up," she said.
"Red hair, green eyes, freckles: it'll be the death of you one day, partner mine."
"So you keep saying," she grumbled. "Why couldn't they have found somebody in vice or narcotics?"
"You used to be vice, ya wee idiot."
"When I was a uniform! That's not the same thing."
"You did deep cover on that Russian bullshite. The thing with the gambling. It's what got you your shield and got you here, just like Ortiz and the Lins in cyber crimes."
She didn't appreciate the reminder, especially because she knew he was right.
"Gable! What the fuck are you still doin' here?"
"Shit," she said. "On my way out now, LT. Just had to brief my partner."
"How 'bout you let me handle that, and you get your ass down to that goddamn command center?"
"Yes, sir," she said. She cast Chibs a grimace and hurried out.
She hoped to hell this wouldn't be a long operation. Maybe only a few days; a couple weeks, max.
How the fuck did one pretend to be married to a complete stranger anyway?
Guess we'll find out...
Just to be clear: this has nothing to do with any of the other stories with Olivia/Juice. Her backstory is different here, etc. Obviously this is a total au. :D
Oh, and, yeah. I know this is the name of a Bond movie. :)
