First Few Desperate Hours
Summary: After Kat Miller's disastrous blind date, she and Scotty Valens find some common ground…and a whole lot more than they bargained for.
Rating: T for now.
Spoilers: Through 6.04, "Roller Girl," with mentions of scenes from other season 6 episodes, but nothing too important.
Author's Note: So I'm back again, this time with a multi-chapter fic! This one is actually something I wrote a few months ago, as a Christmas present for my fabulous beta, Collider.
You'll notice a lack of Scotty/Lilly shipperness in this one, and yes, that's kind of on purpose. Rest assured, I still ship them, but the show has been sadly lacking in Scotty/Lilly shipperness, moments, or even general interaction, and, unfortunately, I can't manufacture inspiration where none exists. On the other hand, I've discovered that exploring their unique friendship is quite rewarding in and of itself.
I have, however, received major inspiration from Scotty and Kat. Their scenes together this season have been nothing short of awesome, so, of course, I'm pouncing on that. This fic started out as just a one-shot, and ballooned from there, taking some turns I never expected. Part of the joy of writing.
Anyway, yes, I do hope to return to my Scotty/Lilly writings in the near future, but, with the new baby, it seems prudent to post something that's already mostly done, save for some tweaking here and there. I really hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Well, okay, I own one of the characters.
Chapter One: Standard Bitter Love Song #4
March, 2011
"Yeah, okay…one of us'll be right there," Scotty Valens said reluctantly, then replaced the phone in its cradle with a wry smile and a shake of his head.
A few feet away, Kat Miller glanced up from her own desk and arched a brow. "Do I even wanna know what that was about?" she asked him over the rim of her coffee mug.
Scotty's grin broadened, and he chuckled slightly. "That was the daycare again," he informed her with mock cheerfulness. "Seems your daughter's got a bit of a bitin' problem."
"Biting?" Kat repeated with a frown as she lowered the mug to her desk. "She's biting again? I thought we got over that. And anyway, she's your daughter."
"No dice, Miller," Scotty argued jovially. "Punchin' and kickin'? I'll own up to givin' her that. But bitin'…that's yours. Your moms said Veronica did the same thing when she was that age." He arched a brow, his eyes twinkling mischievously and his voice taking on a decidedly teasing tone, then added, "You too, come to that."
Kat shot him a brief glare, then shook her head, knowing there was no point in arguing with him. "Terrible twos," she said softly. "Thought I was done with that a decade ago."
"Aw, they ain't so bad," Scotty replied. "Besides, she's so cute when she's sleepin'."
"Now that, I'll take credit for," Kat grinned, took a sip of coffee, then turned her attention back to Scotty. "So…you gonna go see about her?"
Scotty shook his head. "We been over this, Miller. She punches or kicks, I go deal with it. But bitin'…that's your department."
Kat sighed in defeat, wishing she could fight him on it, but knowing it would be futile. They did have a deal…and the biting was decidedly her genetic material.
"You're such a jackass," she grumbled as she rose from her desk, grabbed her coat, and left the room.
Scotty chuckled triumphantly as he went back to filling out the report from his most recent interview, one related to the 2009 murder of a man, Elliot King, whose sole purpose on earth seemed to be posting incessantly on Battlestar Galactica message boards, only to hear soft, echoing laughter to his left. Glancing up, he saw his partner, Lilly Rush, leaning on the desk and eyeing him with the utmost amusement, her blue eyes twinkling merrily.
"What?" he asked her suspiciously.
"You…as a dad," she said with a smile. "Never thought I'd see it. And sure as hell not with Miller."
"Yeah, I don't think any of us saw that comin'," Nick Vera piped up from the other side of Lilly, where he'd just come back from the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee and a donut.
"Look, I'm not…with Miller," Scotty protested. "You all know that."
Lilly quirked a brow at him. "None of us said you were," she said pointedly.
"So that baby's…what? Just for fun?" Jeffries argued cheerfully.
Scotty shot his colleagues a brief glare, hoping that would shut them up, then attempted to return to the interview report.
"You never did tell us how that happened, y'know," Lilly said casually, with a searching look in Scotty's direction.
Scotty's expression was guarded as he glanced up at her. "Nothin' to tell," he shot back, his voice low with warning.
"Uh-huh," his undaunted partner retorted. "You had sex. With Miller. There's definitely somethin' to tell."
"I ain't been able to get a word outta Miller for over three years," Vera added. "And you're way easier than she is, anyway. So spill. We got a bet ridin' on this."
Scotty sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course they had a bet riding on this. There was always a bet riding on something…but usually, he was a part of it.
"Look," he began, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence and self-defense, "it ain't somethin' I'm proud of, okay? It was just that one time, and we ain't together now," he said with a pointed glance at Lilly, "just raisin' our daughter the best we can, so…back off and go find somethin' else to do, okay? Like…I dunno…your jobs? 'People shouldn't be forgotten' and all that?" he finished, glancing up at his partner once again.
Lilly shrugged, and Scotty could tell that his entreaties, convincing as they were, had fallen on deaf ears.
"Job's been cold for two years, Scotty," Vera pointed out. "I don't think a ten-minute delay'll hurt anything."
Scotty glanced over at Jeffries, only to find his older colleague smiling jovially, his eyes twinkling with merriment, and he knew he wasn't getting any assistance from that direction, either.
"Lil?" Scotty asked helplessly, casting himself at the mercy of his last line of defense. Surely she, out of all of them, would have her priorities in order.
To his dismay, and his utter chagrin, she just smiled, shrugged, and made no move toward the evidence boxes stacked on her desk.
"I do love a good story," she pressed, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
"Miller'll kill me," Scotty protested. "She'll tear my arms off and beat me to death with 'em."
"We won't breathe a word," Jeffries said encouragingly.
"Yeah," Vera agreed enthusiastically around a mouthful of his donut. "We can keep secrets."
Scotty looked around at the eager eyes of his colleagues, realized the game was up, and sighed in defeat.
"Fine," he agreed, without enthusiasm. "But if she finds out I told you? I'm sendin' her after your asses, not mine." He punctuated his declaration with emphatic hand gestures, and his colleagues all nodded.
With another reluctant sigh, Scotty began his sordid tale. "Remember the time I bailed her outta that blind date?"
October, 2008
"Get in, lush," Scotty ordered as he opened the car door for Kat, catching the brief glare her glazed eyes were able to muster and a whiff of way too much alcohol on her breath. Grinning to himself at this rare glimpse of his normally walled-off, ultra-private colleague, he went around the back of the car to his side and slid into the driver's seat, still puzzling over the evening's turn of events.
It had been a typical night at the office, working late on a case, nothing to write home about. He and Lilly had just identified a new suspect when the phone rang. Stillman had answered it, then, the confusion obvious in his voice, informed them that it was Miller.
"But she's pretendin' to be someone else," he'd continued, a look of utter mystification etched across his face. "Sounds drunk."
With a sigh, Scotty had realized, before the boss even said anything else, that he'd be summoned to whatever fancy-ass restaurant Kat had no doubt called him from, and sure enough, half an hour later, here he was, shutting his car door and looking over at his colleague expectantly.
"I woulda called a cab," she slurred, glancing apologetically in his direction, "but I was late…left the house without my wallet."
"So what's wrong with the guy?" Scotty asked. He'd bailed his three sisters out of bad blind dates more times than he could count…but he never expected to have to do it for Miller. Lil, maybe, but not Miller. Not in a million years.
"Nothing," she answered quickly, with a shake of her head. "Good looking…manners…bought a nice bottle of wine," she whispered, before sheepishly admitting the truth. "I just…drank half of it before the calamari came."
"Well, you were nervous," Scotty shrugged. "It's a rookie mistake."
"I don't have the time or the energy for the game. Bring on the sweatpants," Kat declared, her voice laden with uncharacteristic weariness and a hint of…was that defeat? From Kat Miller? For two days, he'd dealt with her reluctance, her trepidation, her fear of this damn blind date, and all those had already surprised him…but defeat was something he never thought he'd hear from her. Ever. Good God, what the hell was in that wine?
Despite his experience with his sisters, Scotty had no idea what to do with this one. Miller was the toughest badass he knew, though he'd rue the day he ever admitted that to her, yet she'd called him to bail her out, and now this…this defeat, this weariness, from her? He hadn't a clue how to handle it. Fortunately, he had something else to fixate on while he frantically searched his brain for a response.
"You…say goodbye to him, or just…go to the bathroom and never come back?" Scotty asked, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know.
"Oh, that's cold, man," he said with a grin, feeling a deep sympathy for whoever this mystery guy was. This sort of thing had never happened to him, of course, mainly because he didn't do blind dates, but…he could imagine. And, dammit, he had to step up to the plate for his species.
"You gotta call him tomorrow," Scotty informed her. "All right? Make up some kinda…work emergency…" he continued, but then trailed off, realizing, with chagrin, that she was shaking her head before he'd even finished his sentence.
"Mm-mm," Kat refused. "I'm not calling him. This was a one-shot deal. One and done," she declared, punctuating her words with emphatic hand gestures.
For the second time that evening, Scotty was seeing something he never thought he'd see. Kat Miller dressed up and drunk was one thing, but her giving up? That was something entirely different. And he wasn't going to let her give up. Not tonight. Not on this.
"Aw, c'mon, Kat," he protested. "You gotta get back in the game."
His colleague sighed and shook her head slightly. "Got no game, baby," she informed him, her voice dull and tired. "Game over."
"Shame," Scotty shrugged casually, realizing that he may, with any luck at all, have finally hit on a tactic that just might work. "You're still a…pretty good catch."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and trusting. "Yeah?" she replied.
"I'm just sayin'," he continued, still slightly ill-at-ease with the fact that, for some reason, he was being called on to be the hero for this tough-as-nails, petite little barnstormer of a woman who now sat in the passenger seat, her surprisingly fragile emotional state suddenly, inexplicably, in his hands. "You…deserve more."
"Damn straight," she agreed quickly.
"Lousy-ass cop, though," he added, ending the moment before it had a chance to become a full-fledged… moment.
Her response was a solid right hook to his shoulder, and the shock, and pain, stole his breath. Until that point, Scotty had had absolutely no idea how hard Kat could hit, and had no desire to be on the receiving end of it ever again.
"Take me home before I puke all over your car," she ordered.
Scotty tried, in vain, to hide his grimace. "You got it," he replied, pulling away from the curb.
A few minutes later, they pulled up outside a slightly derelict-looking apartment building, though a quick glance told Scotty that it was by far the best place on that particular block.
"This is me," Kat announced with a sheepish shrug, starting to get out of the car, then hesitated, seeming to weigh her options before speaking while glancing back over her shoulder at Scotty. "You…wanna come up?" she finally asked, her voice light.
Scotty blinked in surprise, then chuckled. "Okay, now I know you're drunk," he declared with a grin.
"I'm serious," she said, and something in her tone gave him pause. It wasn't her usual bad-ass snark, nor was it the heavy sense of defeat he'd heard earlier…it was something else. Something he couldn't quite identify.
"Veronica's spendin' the night with my mom," she explained a bit awkwardly, "I'm still supposed to be on this date, and…" she trailed off, looking away uncomfortably.
"And what?" Scotty inquired with a quizzical glance, not at all sure where she was going with this.
"Don't make me say it," she ordered, her eyes shooting sparks.
"Say what?" he asked, and he could tell by her expression that she knew he truly didn't have a clue.
"I just…don't wanna be alone tonight," she finished lamely, then glanced up, the look in her dark eyes almost embarrassed, "…and…I could really use a friend."
A lopsided grin lifted one corner of Scotty's mouth as he killed the motor and removed his keys from the ignition.
"Well, I guess I could come up for a while," he said with a shrug. "Ain't got much at home to look forward to, that's for sure."
"What, you ain't hate bangin' anyone these days?" Kat asked teasingly as Scotty climbed from the car, and he glared in her direction.
"I haven't gone out in, like, a year," he protested, shutting the door with a bit more force than necessary.
"Uh-huh," Kat replied with a smile as she shut her own door and started up the walk, the skittering of the dry leaves adding a counterpoint to the staccato rhythm of her high heels.
"I'm serious, Miller," Scotty insisted as he followed her, completely unsure why it was all of a sudden so important that she believe him on this. "Not even so much as a drink with a woman since Alex."
Kat chuckled softly as she climbed the steps to the front door of her building, and Scotty found himself suddenly dying of curiosity.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he demanded as he reached the top step.
She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. "Least I'm out there," she said.
Scotty laughed aloud as he watched her repeated, fumbling attempts to put the key in the lock.
"I dunno if I call downin' half a bottle of wine and then runnin' out on the guy bein' 'out there,'" he argued, as he gently removed the keys from her hand and, ignoring Kat's petulant eye-roll, inserted them into the lock himself.
"Hey," she protested, hands on her hips. "I'm wearin' a dress, okay? Makeup, hair, nails, the works." She raked her eyes over him from head to toe. "You…your sorry ass hasn't seen the outside of the office for months," she pointed out.
"Fine," he conceded with a shrug, unwilling to admit just how irritating it was that she'd not only guessed the truth, but that there was such a pathetic, lame-ass truth for her to guess at in the first place. "I ain't out there. And you can talk up the dress and the makeup and the nails all you want…" he continued, desperate to salvage anything that might possibly remain of a victory, "but that don't change the fact that you're here, with me, insteada out havin' dinner with that guy."
Kat glared at him for a moment, then turned abruptly and stormed up the stairs. Scotty knew from experience that she was fuming inwardly, searching her addled brain for a typical snarky comeback, and the fact that she was physically removing herself from the situation told him that she was simply unable to come up with one. This, he decided with a grin as he followed her up the stairs, he'd take as a point in his favor.
When they reached her apartment, she tossed her keys on the table, where they landed amid a pile of bills, empty cups from Starbucks, and a haphazard stack of what looked to be Veronica's homework, then kicked off her shoes and stormed to the small kitchen, where she reached up into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses.
"More booze?" Scotty asked, arching an incredulous brow as he stripped off his tie and tossed it on the back of the couch.
Kat looked pointedly at him as she poured the bourbon. "I may be drunk, but I ain't drunk enough," she announced. "And if I'm drinkin', you're drinkin' with me, 'cause no way in hell am I lettin' you be the sober one. I don't trust you," she informed him. "Besides, I've already spilled enough of my guts to your sorry ass tonight," she continued, half under her breath.
Scotty shrugged. It had been a while since he'd been drunk, really and truly drunk. The last time he'd gotten completely blitzed was the night they'd come back from West Virginia after arresting that psychopathic serial killer, and, he realized, it was high time again. Drinking alone to drown one's sorrows had long ago lost its luster…but drinking with a friend for no particular reason? That had some appeal.
"Fair enough," he agreed, moving a pile of clean, but unfolded laundry to a neighboring chair and lowering himself to the sofa. "What should we drink to?" he asked as he took the glass she thrust into his hand.
Kat thought for a moment, then settled onto the couch next to him and lifted her drink. "To sweatpants," she said with a wry grin.
Scotty smiled and clinked his glass against hers before tossing the burning amber liquid down his throat.