~ Please enjoy the second chapter ~
"Blasted cows…" Jakes muttered as he trudged around crime scene. "Why does it always have to be me who treads into it…"
"It'll bring you some fortune at least." Strange smirked.
"As if, these shoes cost me a fortune." The Sergeants answers annoyed.
"Then don't wear them to work." The PC shrugs, it's not a if he care an awful lot about Jakes' soiled shoes, cow patty or not. At least Morse had managed to keep his clean.
"Well, I don't want to wear other shoes. These are custom made." Jakes says uncomfortable. "'s Not as if I can help the fact that I have big feet and that all other shoes are uncomfortable…"
"Yes, but can't you have them made with a lesser quality kind of material, instead of this?"
"No way…" the Sergeant then cast his eyes on Morse, who is just passing. "It's not as if Morse has that problem…" he adds smirking.
"What problem?" Morse asks, pausing in his stride.
"Big feet." Jakes smiles.
"Hang on, I thought we were talking about quality?" Strange asked confused.
"I don't care much for shoes or quality for that matter." Morse answers cautiously.
"I would've thought so. You're probably still in the children department with those small-"
"No, Jakes. I'm not." The DC interrupts.
"You know what they says about men with big feet."
"Yes, Jakes. I know what they says about that." Morse says as if he's talking to a small child. "But at least I don't feel the need to compensate on anything by having large feet." He adds.
"True." Strange says. "I haven't got that large feet either, 6.5 exactly."
"Size 9… How about you, Morse?" Jakes ask, well… smirks.
"That's none of you-"
"Don't be so childish, come on."
"4." Is the brisk answer but immediately Morse trudges on towards Thursday who was waiting by the car.
"4?" Jakes asked, looking astounded. "That's tiny!"
"You really do like embarrassing Morse, don't you?" Strange ask, not looking to pleased.
"I didn't mean to!" the Sergeant says affronted.
"For once." The PC turns his head to see the car leaving. "Weren't you supposed to be in the same car as Morse, by the way?"
"What?" Jakes looks the same way in a startled manner, but looks even more annoyed after seeing they left him behind. Strange tried to keep his face straight as the Sergeant paced around, trying to get a ride.
But then, the same evening, the PC laid on his bed, thinking about Morse. Size 4 was more the size for woman's feet, wasn't it? Strange shook his head, there was no way that what he was thinking was true and even if it was… He had no evidence so he let the subject drop.
Until the PC heard a conversation down the hall.
"Morse, please…" Jakes sighed as he passed the office where Morse was working in with a rather heavy box in his arms.
"What is it?" the DC asked, on guard as he knew that talking to Jakes always ended up in some kind of verbal fight, making him always stand on edge around the Sergeant.
"I don't mind you singing but keep it down a bit, will you?"
Morse swallowed as he nodded, he hadn't even known he had been singing in the first place.
"Where did you learn to sing like that, anyway? Did they cut of your balls as well?" Jakes asked nonchalantly, balanced the box he had been carrying on his left knee.
"Excuse me?" Morse asked with a raised eyebrow, looking rather affronted
"I'm not trying to annoy you, Morse." He sighed. "But there's been a bloke who's balls were… you know… He was able to sing that high as well, right?"
"Oh." The DC deflated, trying not to sound to relieved but Strange, who was eavesdropping had. "You mean like Farinelli?"
"Whatever."
"N-no, Jakes. There's been no… cutting involved. It's purely a way of training and having the right person to teach." Morse answered uncomfortably. "Besides, the one you're talking about was a Soprano, while I'm a Tenor."
"Tch, seriously? That one note was still ridiculously high pitched…" Jakes grumbles as he wanders off, leaving Morse alone, while the DC let out rather nervous laugh.
The whole conversation suddenly does let something click in Strange's brain then he understands but at the same time he's extremely confused and decides to confront Morse with his findings.
"Why are you doing this?" Strange asks, cringing at his own tone. He didn't mean to sound so accusing in the first place.
"Doing what exactly?" Morse seems confused. The PC sighs as he closes the door and sits down.
"Dress like a man." Strange says simple. The reaction is immediate.
"How did you-"
"I'm a policeman, I may not be as smart as you, but I too can deduct some things." Strange intervenes rudely, not all too happy. He had initially wanted Morse to deny it.
"That's uncalled for." The DC said unhappily.
"Calling you a cross-dresser while you've been lying to us all along?"
"You don't know anything!" Morse suddenly looks angry and upset and Strange gets this odd feeling in his stomach, suggesting that he might've acted a bit to rash.
"I'm sorry…"
"You should be!" Morse yells loudly, nearly in tears. "You have no right to judge me like that and I've never lied to someone in this office!"
"Morse, please don't cry, I'm sorry…"
"NO! Go away, please… Just go away." Morse quickly turns away from Strange, failing trying to get a hold of himself.
"Okay…" the PC says softly. Deciding that was the best option to take, Strange did leave but then he noticed, Morse really did shout as hard as he remembered and now the whole office was staring.
At him.
"Err…"
Thankfully, Inspector Thursday came to Strange's rescue as he too had heard shouting.
"Get back to work, you lot." He said, waving his hand dismissively towards the gaping people, who quickly started working again.
"Now, you're going to tell me what going on between you and Morse." And with that the Inspector trudged into his office, trailed by a less than enthusiastic PC Strange.
"So you upset Morse?" Thursday asks, not looking too happy.
"Y-yes, sir." Strange answered meekly. He decided that he wasn't going to tell on Morse. Especially the whole cross-dressing business. Being yelled at once a day by one of your friends was more than enough, the PC thought.
"Why?"
"Because I thought… he was… gay…" Strange lies, thinking quickly.
"Has he been… you know?" Thursday trails off.
"What?! No, no, of course not!"
"Then why'd you go and make such a fuss about it?" the Inspector asked with a raised eyebrow.
Strange swallowed hard and shrugged, looking rather defeated yet not for the reason Thursday guessed it was. He sighed deeply and leaned back on his chair, shaking his head.
"I'll have a chat with him about it, okay?"
"Yes, sir." Strange nods. "But DC Morse is a bit angry at the moment…" he adds.
"I noticed as much. I'll talk to him tomorrow. For now though, Strange, don't let your damned prejudice get in the way of your job." Thursday still looks a bit angry and the PC knows it's because of him and his damned curiosity.
"Morse?" The Inspector pokes his head around the corner.
"What?" it seemed like the DC still wasn't over his argument with Strange if the quiver in the lad's voice was anything to go by.
"I'd like to have a word with you… Tomorrow though, so can you pick me up in the morning?"
"Fine." Was Morse's short answer.
"Right." Thursday finished awkwardly and went back to his office.
Morse made himself scarce the rest of the day, not wanting to upset anyone (especially himself) any more. Not taking any risks, he went home a bit earlier than usual as well.
It's not the first time that someone discovers his 'secret' but he's unsettled and truly worried that he would have to search for another job, having to start all over… again.
The poor DC drinks himself silly, trying to forget but he can't instead, he falls unconscious in an uneasy kind of sleep.
Next up is nr. 3!
Read and review, please