I've fallen hard and fast for this ship, so it was only a matter of time until I wrote something like this c: Scribbled on a whim on an idea that came out of nowhere, but I utterly love the eventual outcome.
The idea of Bogo's first name being Francis comes from another fic I read ages ago and can't remember the name of - if it's your idea, please comment and let me know so that I can credit you!
They really ought to invest in a bloody elevator. Chief Bogo let out a heavy sigh, leaning his head back against an overly-sterilised, flat hospital pillow as he massaged one temple with a hoof. It just made sense - too many mammals of too many different sizes all trying to get to different places via the same staircase was bound to cause problems at some stage. And now, cause problems it certainly had. The room around him was nearly bleached to the point of being the scene of an over-experienced bank robbery, and smelled just as bad. Not that it smelled like bleach, mind you, but the intensity of whatever smell it was was just as chemical and unpleasant. A botched attempt at creating an aura of cleanliness, it simply assaulted his nostrils with a strong odour featuring a weak base of urine with overbearing top notes of artificial lavender. He pursed his lips, staring blankly at the white-washed ceiling - he'd been in the room without so much as a book to read for such an unreasonable period of time that he'd gone so far as to count and then commit tom memory the number of cracks in the plaster. 124, if anybody cared to ask. Not even his phone was useable - having been in his hand as he'd tripped, it had been crushed under the weight of some 2,000 pounds of buffalo, and the screen had cracked beyond the point of usability, all text rendered illegible and images indiscernible.
Honestly, Bogo was going out of his mind. He would certainly have preferred company; which he'd had to a point, until Ramona Scordecchia - the sweet-natured, brown-eyed Bracco Italiano who headed up the drug unit that had escorted him to the ER - had been called away on back-up, leaving him unceremoniously and entirely devoid of anything with which to entertain himself. That had to have been some three or four hours ago, at the very least - Scordecchia wasn't exactly the most talkative individual on the force, but at least it had been an amicable silence rather than the brain-rotting boredom he'd been left with. Though the whole nonsense hadn't been her fault - the dog had simply been a bystander to the whole thing who had offered a degree of level-headedness and calm to the situation. After his little "accident", Bogo could barely get a word in edgewise to ask to be taken to the hospital between Clawhauser's frantic, red-faced apologising and stuttering as he stumbled around in a flustered mess, trying to pick up dropped papers whilst not taking his eyes off of his injured boss. The cheetah, absorbed in a text conversation, had walked headlong into Bogo as the two had been traveling in opposite directions up and down the stairs. The chief had proceeded to lose his footing entirely as he'd tried to steady himself and step out of the way of Fangmeyer at the same time; landing in a crumpled, dishevelled heap in the stairwell - parting a crowd of officers milling around feigning business to avoid paperwork, and drawing far more attention to himself than he'd perhaps have liked. It was a pain in the ass to think about - he survived shoot-outs, drive-bys, punch-ups, and god only knows what else on a daily basis, and what did it take to put him in hospital - and out of work for the next six weeks at the very least, for that matter - but an overweight (though irritatingly endearing) receptionist, a crowded staircase, and a momentary lapse of concentration. Fucking typical. Bogo was going to kill someone at this rate, if anybody even bothered to come in.
As if on cue to Bogo's self-pity induced threat, the door to his little hospital room was opened, revealing a petite, smiling otter nurse in mint-green scrubs - a larger figure hovering a foot or two behind her. The buffalo's mind jumped eagerly to the distraction.
Hoping that he was about to be told that he was allowed to go home - though suspecting with a mounting sense of disappointment that it was simply another tedious check of his vitals - his curiosity was piqued all the further as the otter looked to him with bright eyes, her head tilted ever-so slightly to one side. "Would you mind a visitor right now, Chief?"
A nagging suspicion that it was to be Lionheart or some other stuffy higher-up in to negotiate who was to take his place for the ensuing sick leave, Bogo shook his head a little - still appreciating a conversation of any sort, given that it would likely take the edge off of the tedium of being left alone with his own dull thoughts.
"No, not at all."
The otter gave him a smile; nodding and urging him to wait a moment, before turning to say a word or two to whatever visitor Bogo inexplicably had calling.
A few moments passed before she ushered a chubby, scarlet-faced cheetah through the door, turning on her heel and trotting off elsewhere. Bogo chuckled quietly to himself, rolling his eyes a little as Clawhauser hovered by the door - pigeon-toed and silent, as though contemplating leaving once more.
"Benjamin," he said, refusing direct eye contact with the other mammal - a small, subtle lilt to his voice. Clawhauser didn't move an inch, still virtually glued to the door.
"H-how you feelin', sir?" He asked nervously, a tremble in his words as he awkwardly twiddled his thumbs.
"Well, I've had better mornings." Bogo shifted to a more upright position, wincing at the pain shooting up his ankle. He looked down at his cast; his leg swathed in white plaster all the way from his foot to just below his knee. Clawhauser grimaced, still seeming afraid to move. "You can sit down, if you want." Bogo gesticulated a little to the chair by the bedside, before resting his head on his hoof, once again rubbing at his temple - trying to massage away the dull headache located just behind his eyes that had been plaguing him since the fall. Clawhauser took a few steps forward, still looking as though he was unsure of where his feet were as he stumbled a little awkwardly - not sitting down, or even close to Bogo by any means, but better than practically glued to the doorframe.
"Yeah, it's...look, I'm so sorry..." he blushed even more scarlet, looking at the floor; Bogo turning his head to see him more clearly, the cheetah simply looked like a scolded child stood outside the headmaster's office - Bogo had seen that exact facial expression on his five-year old niece after she'd taken the liberty of decorating his kitchen table with Crayola marker, and he'd raised his voice a little too much with her, having failed to see the intended kindness of the gesture. He gave a fond half-smile as he looked at him - though this faded somewhat as Clawhauser's obvious guilt became realer to him. "I just..." he continued, cutting himself off with a stammer. "I wasn't paying attention and I should have been and you got hurt and it's all my fault and I'm really, really sorry, please don't fire me..." he trailed off, a note of desperation mounting in his tone as his eyes began to well with tears. Bogo felt a twang of guilt somewhere in the depths of his own stomach as he watched the cheetah's upset grow more and more with each word, offering a thin-lipped smile.
"Fire you? Who said anything about firing you?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at Benjamin with an air of concern. "Come on. Sit." This time the phrase sounded more akin to an instruction than it did to a question, and Clawhauser eventually took the hint, perching nervously on the plastic chair, sniffing and wiping at his eyes with the back of his paw.
"I..." he stopped for a moment, sniffling. "I thought you would be angry- angrier - with me. And I mean, you're the Chief - you can do what you want. You could totally take this out on me, and..." He continued to try and fight back tears, his voice continuing to thicken. "I-"
"Clawhauser, since when were stupid accidents punishable by redundancy?" Bogo snorted a little, side-eyeing the tearful feline. "I wouldn't- I could never-" he stopped, placing what he hoped was a comforting hoof on Clawhauser's shoulder. "I forgive you, Benjamin. Now calm down." The cheetah scrubbed at his eyes, his nose twitching a little as he looked up - a certain relief to his face, though this was mixed with an air of trepidation and doubt.
"...You do?"
He nodded firmly. "I'm a mammal of my word. Just forget about it." Clawhauser smiled a little; his tail swished around nervously as he fidgeted with his neck fur. Bogo couldn't help but smile a touch himself - this was however interrupted by another short burst of pain as he readjusted his seated position once more and moved his fractured leg more than was comfortable.
He supposed that he had always harboured something of a small crush on Ben. Just a little. Just enough to keep things interesting; an occasional fleeting hint of intrigue in his otherwise quintessentially drab life. He'd made sure never to admit it to himself fully; made absolutely certain to keep it under lock and key, but there it was. He had always longed just a little bit for him; for Benjamin Clawhauser. There was no denial about his interest in those of the same sex - that was perhaps a secret to others, but not himself. Numerous high-school flings had proved this to him; Roscoe, and the numerous sleepless nights and unproductive days it had taken to get over him and their shitty breakup had cemented the knowledge. But there had always been something out-of-bounds about any degree of relation between himself and his subordinates besides those of a strictly professional nature. There was a degree of risk to it, sure - unrequited affections or crushes being misconstrued had earned him more than his share of bloody snouts and black eyes in his youth. Though this wasn't there with Clawhauser in the slightest - he was camp as could be, virtually wearing his homosexuality like a hat. Something else had kept him off-limits to Bogo; it was perhaps the rules he had formed in his own brain that dating coworkers wasn't tolerable - that was a possibility. He truly hadn't acknowledged the fact that he fancied the cheetah for the last year and a half - demoting him over the predator shenanigans had practically ruined him; as he'd watched Benjamin cry over being told the news, if he hadn't locked the feelings away completely it would have shattered him entirely. But there it was again, clear as day. He had a near-to unbearable crush on the bumbling, excitable mass of fluff - and he didn't exactly hate it.
"Sorry - again," Clawhauser broke both the silence and Bogo's train of thought with his sudden words, Bogo's ears pricking up a little. "I'd...I brought you chocolates - well, tried to. They, uh...didn't make it," he gave an awkward, toothy smile; this eliciting the smallest of chuckles from Bogo. "Uh, sir-"
"We aren't at work, Benjamin," he exhaled a little by way of a laugh, rolling his eyes. "Call me Francis - please."
"Francis?" Clawhauser cocked his head a little, giggling - Bogo quelled him with a look, the cheetah quickly reverting back to blushing into his lap, a smile still lingering on his face. "You really don't look like a Francis."
"Maybe I don't, but it's still my name," he said drily. "Anyway, you were saying."
"Yeah, I-" he paused for a second, his face falling a little. "Uh, is it broken?" He gestured to Bogo's leg; the buffalo nodding. Clawhauser grimaced, biting his lip. "Oh...How bad is it?"
"Not very," he waved him off a touch with a thin-lipped smile. "Not nearly as bad as it could have been - if you've really got to break an ankle, apparently this is the way to do it. A few weeks in this thing, and I'll be back to normal before you know it."
Clawhauser nodded, giving a soft 'mmh' sound that combined sympathy and apology in equal measure. "I mean, I wouldn't know, I've never broken anything before. Well, besides my paw, but that was when I was a baby, so I don't remember-" he caught himself rambling, clearing his throat before reverting back to more standard conversation. "Does it hurt a lot?"
"Yes." He had intended to leave it at this, but continued hastily as he watched Clawhauser's face drop. "Of course, it's definitely not as bad as it was initially - it's uncomfortable, and it's sore when I move, but I'm not exactly in terrible pain." He watched Clawhauser ease up a touch, his hoof on the other's forearm, and he found that his lips were still curved upwards in a smile - something that he rarely did and even more rarely forgot he was doing.
"Hey Chief- uh, Francis," Clawhauser spoke, giving the smallest of small, childish smiles at using Bogo's first name; earning another glare, though he appeared somehow blind to this now. "Can I ask something?"
"If you must," he sighed, feigning boredom; he was in truth happy as could be at finally having somebody to converse with - lest of all somebody for whom he had so much affection.
"Could I...once you're better, or- or maybe just once you're out of here, if you feel like you can - could I maybe take you out to dinner?" He offered, an awkward, lopsided grin on his face. "To say sorry properly for this mess, and- maybe try and make it up to you?" Bogo gave a smile at the request, nodding his agreement slowly.
"I'd like that," he said - before stopping briefly for thought and continuing; asking the question he felt he had to ask. "As- as friends?"
"Well..." Clawhauser drew the word out for at least an extra six syllables, his face taking up another slight blushed tone. "If it's not too pushy of me to ask, maybe as...more?" As Bogo blinked a little, processing the comment, Benjamin only grew flustered, worrying over the potential response this would draw from his boss. "I'm sorry, I know it might be completely inappropriate - I mean, you are my boss and all, but I...please don't be mad if I've read you wrong, but ever since the Gazelle concert you've just had my gaydar going like-" he offered some manic hand movement by way of an adjective in place of actual speech. "And I...I really like you." He finished the sentence with a heavy sigh, looking worriedly with baited breath to Bogo's face as he thought of a response.
"I...Benjamin, there's no need to be sorry. I'd like that very much indeed," he confirmed this; a huge grin spreading across Clawhauser's face.
"So like a...A date?"
"Yes. It's a date."
Clawhauser brought his hands over his mouth, squealing loudly - Bogo gritting his teeth a little; placing a hoof one one of Benjamin's paws to shush him.
"Okay, that'll do. Though I suppose if one absolutely must burst an eardrum, this is a good place to do it." Clawhauser smiled, still giggling uncontrollably like a schoolgirl.
"Sorry- I just...Ooh, I've got a date with the chief! I can't believe it! Wait till I tell-"
"You'll do no such thing," Bogo cut him off firmly, a shard of panic jabbing through him at Clawhauser's words.
"Oh, sorry! My lips are sealed;" he mimed zipping them. "Don't worry. I'll try keep quiet." Bogo gave a nod, smiling a little again. "I just...oh my gosh, it's just so exciting - I've been dreaming about this ever since-" he was cut off by a short, sharp vibration coming from somewhere within his pocket. "Oh!" He looked at the text, skim-reading it quickly, his face falling a little. "That was Judy. She sends her good wishes and all that, but...I'm needed back at the station." Bogo pursed his lips, nodding solemnly.
"Off you go, then - don't let me hold you up."
"Okay," he rose to his feet, still a little giddy if the look on his face was much to go on. "I...I'll see you again soon. Rest up - get better soon, sir- uh, Francis." He gave another small giggle.
"Laugh one more time, and first name privileges are officially revoked."
"Sorry," he scratched the back of his neck a little nervously, still smiling - before leaning forward to plant a tentative kiss on the buffalo's cheek. The chief was now the one to blush at the affection, unable to help but grin as Benjamin left the room - composing a reply to Judy on his phone as he toddled along; not noticing the arctic fox in the white doctor's coat walking towards him until the two collided. Bogo gave a chuckle - if leopards never change their spots, apparently cheetahs don't either.
The door clicked shut, leaving Bogo alone once more - but he wasn't bored now. He was thinking through places that would be good for a dinner date with a cheetah. And the distinct probability that Clawhauser would no doubt inform the entire office of their pending date within at most ten minutes of his arrival back at Precinct One.