Cole's fingers flew over his keyboard with near inhuman speed. He briefly slowed his incessant typing in order to toss back a loose lock of hair before returning to his furious tirade of words, hunching his shoulders over his laptop.
All that could be heard in the still office was the rapid clicking of abused keys as the detective finished up another report. The never-ending stream of paperwork that he dealt with daily often caused Cole to question why he had ever even bothered to become a detective in the first place.
A sharp rap at the door failed to snap said detective out of his focused state.
"Cole?"
With a grunt of indignation, Cole rolled his eyes and reluctantly finished up a single word before viciously slamming his finger down on one of the punctuation keys, glaring at the metal knob as his office door swung open.
Zane leaned casually in the entryway, his hands jammed in the pockets of his stark white leather coat. His pale hair was curiously styled into something that closely resembled a stiff field of Kentucky bluegrass, and his icy, sharp eyes twinkled with merriment.
"What?" Cole bit out, already inching his fingers back towards the faded letters that adorned his keyboard.
"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Zane sang, running a casual hand through his well-kept blonde strands. "May I speak to you for a few moments?"
"I'm busy," the detective grumbled, eyeing the half-typed report with growing interest.
"We both know that you'd much rather procrastinate than actually finish that behemoth," Zane suggested slyly, ambling further into the room.
Cole groaned and sank back in his chair, knocking his head back into the wooden headrest. With a wince, he rubbed half-heartedly at the bump that he knew was forming. "You know me too well," he admitted begrudgingly, offering Zane an impressed glance.
His coworker beamed at the praise. "Indeed," he intoned proudly. "Anyway, I believe that you'd be curious to know that I've overseen the creation of the agency's manufactured virus, and that it's ready to be tested."
Cole sat up straighter at Zane's words. "How soon can we bring it to Borg Industries?" he demanded.
"That's assuming if you got the job," the blue-eyed detective teased, clasping his hands behind his back.
Cole scoffed. "Of course I did," he tossed out haughtily. "I blew the interviewer away with my poise and charm."
"What charm?" Zane prodded, a confident smirk gracing his elegant features.
The detective growled threateningly, but his coworker could tell that it was all in jest. "I'll have you know that I could flirt my way out of the apocalypse," he bragged.
"Is that why last year's intern fled out the front door only halfway into her first day?" Zane prodded, folding his arms together in front of his chest. The leather crinkled slightly as the blue-eyed detective shifted.
Cole shook his head fiercely. "No," he refuted quickly. "That was because she ran into Maya's kid." The detective shuddered for emphasis, turning his head to the side as his lips twisted up in exaggerated disgust.
Zane smiled fondly, attempting to hide the small grin behind one of his hands. "He's not so bad," he insisted, ducking his head. "At least he's not the one who put a whole in the wall behind Maya's desk."
"That was still his fault," the detective growled, stabbing an indignant finger in the general direction of Zane's smug face. "Besides, I'm not the one who lit the break room on fire."
"That was an accident," Zane stated airily, dismissing the jab with a wave of his hand. "He insisted that he knew what he was doing."
"He never knows what he's doing," Cole grunted, scowling.
"I hate to interrupt what appears to be a rather intense version of the pronoun game, but, Detective Julien, may I speak to you for a few moments?"
Both detectives snapped to attention, swiveling their heads around in unison in order to catch sight of Head Detective Smith standing rigidly in the entryway of Cole's office, an amused look on his face.
"Greetings, Raymond," Zane chirped civilly, dipping his head slightly as a sign of respect. "What do you need to talk to me about?"
"I would like to speak with you alone," Head Detective Smith explained, arching an eyebrow as he subtly dared his favorite interrogator to challenge him.
"But of course," Zane reasoned breezily, already halfway out of the open office door. "I will talk to you later, Brookstone," the blue-eyed detective added as an afterthought, tossing the words over his shoulder as he left the room. He shot Cole a wink as he disappeared into the hallway.
Cole rolled his eyes. His coworker certainly had a flair for the dramatic.
And a crush.
The detective grinned.
As soon as both his boss and Zane were out of sight, he trudged back to his open laptop, apprehension making him drag his feet.
Cole sat down heavily in his chair, and it squeaked quietly in protest. With a sigh, Cole began to plunk away on his keyboard once more, groaning with frustration as the lines of text started blurring in front of his eyes.
Out of habit, the detective checked his watch.
8:30, Cole bemoaned, dragging a hand down his face. Only 8:30? It feels like I've been sitting at my desk for two years.
The detective shot to his feet, sparing his report a disgusted glance.
Coffee. I need coffee, he told himself firmly, striding out of his confining office. Cole gulped in a breath of air as he padded swiftly and surely to the front desk, his eyes zeroing in on the pristine Cuisinart machine that stood proudly on a small table next to the cluttered receptionist's desk.
"You didn't last very long," Maya commented drily, not looking up from the agency's computer.
Cole spared the receptionist a weary glance. "What is it now, Maya?" he demanded sourly, shuffling his steps as he made his way over to the haphazard stack of Styrofoam cups.
"Ray and I had a bet going to see how long you'd stay in your office before you came out here to get some more coffee," Maya explained, as if it were only natural for her and her husband to place bets at the expense of their employees.
Miffed, Cole crossed his arms over his chest and threw back his shoulders. "I might as well just go back into my office then," he bit out, "and then neither of you will win the bet."
"Too late," Maya intoned triumphantly, a smirk weaving its way onto her face. "You left your office, Brookstone."
Cole huffed as he marched the last few steps to the coffee maker. "Happy?" he spat as he jammed a cup under the the machine.
"Positively ecstatic," Maya stated flatly.
"So who won?" Cole inquired pointedly as he dumped an eye-raising amount of caffeinated beans into the chamber above the spout.
"I did," the receptionist admitted without preamble.
Cole could swear that he heard something other than perpetual boredom in Maya's tone as she proudly announced her victory.
"What did you win?" the detective pressed, checking to make sure that there was enough water in the machine for him to make a decent pot of coffee. After throwing a sideways glance at the receptionist in order to be sure that she was distracted, Cole cautiously stretched out a hand and snatched up a small paper pouch.
"I'm not sure you'd want to know," Maya intoned suggestively, keeping her eyes trained on the monitor in front of her.
Cole gagged on the packet of sugar that he was pouring down his throat. "Thanks for that," he accused huffily as he dumped the ruined packet into a nearby trash bin. He shoved the sprinkling droplets of sugar crystals off of his blazer and straightened his spine.
"No problem," Maya responded curtly.
The two fell into silence as Cole waited for the coffeemaker to finish brewing his lifeblood. The detective tapped a foot against the small rug that laid beneath the table, and Maya vigorously shredded a handful of documents one-handed as she continued to peck away at the computer's keyboard.
The amicable quiet was abruptly shattered as a certain new employee traipsed meekly into the receptionist area, his head bowed into his suit jacket.
Cole suddenly became extremely interested in the tray of stirring straws poised next to the coffeemaker.
If Maya noticed the tension abruptly thicken in the small room, she didn't comment on it, instead continuing to make her way through the insufferable amount of filing that she had yet to do.
Jay trekked over to the Cuisinart, where Cole was now staring intently at the packets of sweetener. On a whim, the detective snatched up a couple bags of the sugar, arranging them neatly next to his empty cup.
"Hey," Jay murmured softly, reaching out to take a cup for himself.
His quiet tone of voice was nearly lost in the raucous cawing of the coffeemaker as it spewed its trademark hot black liquid into a marked coffee pot.
Cole inclined his head to acknowledge his partner's presence before ripping open the packets of sugar. In an almost practiced motion, he dumped all of the sweet crystals into his empty Styrofoam cup.
Jay followed Cole's hands with his eyes as the detective abruptly launched the empty packets of sugar into the trash bin.
"Aren't you supposed to add the sugar after you add the coffee?" the ex-Deputy asked, a tongue-touched grin making its way onto his face.
Cole shot his case partner a withering look. "There's no sugar waiting for you at the bottom of the cup if you stir it in last," he explained, an edge of superiority coloring his tone.
Jay rolled his eyes and reached for a packet of half-and-half. As his fingers closed around the small package, he felt his other hand minutely brush against Cole's own before the detective hastily pulled it back.
An unfortunate blush demanded to paint Jay's face as the ex-Deputy shot an impatient glare at the coffeemaker.
"What did you do to your hand?" Maya asked tersely. Her face was practically glued to the monitor as she spoke, and Jay incredulously raised his injured appendage.
"Cat clawed it," Cole interjected gruffly, wrenching the coffee pot out from under the dripping spout.
"Thank you, Jay," Maya retorted bluntly, nudging a stack of papers closer to her keyboard.
Jay hid a snort behind his bandaged hand, chancing an amused glance at his case partner.
Cole grumbled something about smartass receptionists before pouring a heaping dose of coffee into his cup. He lifted his head and briefly met Jay's eyes, looking away as he caught sight of the mirth in his partner's gaze.
"Here, let me get that for you," he insisted, taking hold of Jay's empty coffee cup. "How much?"
"Half full, if you don't mind," Jay piped up gratefully.
Cole carefully poured the hot liquid into Jay's Styrofoam cup, snatching the pot back as soon as he was finished.
"Here," he grunted, passing the cup over to his partner.
This time, Jay failed to hide the pink blush that crawled up his cheeks as his fingers brushed against Cole's once again.
"Thanks!" he chirped, willing the squeak in his voice to disappear. As Jay canted his head to the side to observe the stack of different creamer samples, a small glitter of light caught his eye.
The ex-Deputy snapped his gaze back to the collar of Cole's blazer, where a smattering of sugar crystals stood proudly. They caught the faint light coming in from the entrance, gleaming like Christmas tree ornaments.
"Is something wrong?" Cole demanded, shifting his gaze around the room. He felt uncomfortable under the abrupt scrutiny of his case partner.
Jay snapped quickly out of his stupor. "Sorry," he murmured. "Just…"
Almost as if in a trance, Jay reached out and brushed the remaining crystals from Cole's collar, touching a finger to the warm, smooth skin of the detective's neck. It flinched at the brush of contact.
The ex-Deputy swallowed and hastily straightened up. "I had better get going," he stated, almost a little too loudly. "I need to finish up some paperwork."
Jay strode quickly from the room. The ex-Deputy dug his face into his jacket collar as he fled down the hallway.
Cole followed Jay's hasty retreat with his eyes.
"You're in over your head, Cole," Maya pointed out as the detective moved to gently stir at the mound of sugar that was hidden at the bottom of his coffee cup.
"I'm not sure what you mean," Cole stated slowly, cautiously raising his head to stare at the receptionist as she busied herself with more filing.
A grin found its way into Maya's normally stoic expression. "I think you know exactly what I mean," she returned snidely, not-so-subtly casting her gaze down the hallway.
Cole gulped down a few sips of black coffee, hurrying his way down to the piles of sugar crystals. He ate those up as soon as he reached them, pulling up the dredges of his overly-sweetened coffee with a stir straw. He refused to look over at Maya.
"Coffee?" he asked disinterestedly.
The receptionist smirked. "Black, no sugar," she recited.
Cole threw a glance at the soft lighting emanating from the agency's front hallway, releasing a breath that he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding.
She's right, the detective bemoaned. I really am.