Day 13: Buddy Cops/Detective

The day James Diamond walked into the forensics lab was the day Logan knew he was doomed. It was nothing personal. Logan wasn't really the opinionated type but one look at the man and he was sure this wasn't going to end well.

See, Logan has a bit of a problem with life and its metaphorical lemons. He went to med school, graduated with honors and passed the licensure exam without breaking a sweat. He was supposed to be a surgeon but somewhere along the line he met Carlos and Carlos was all about the glory of the police force.

Protecting people, hunting villains, the family business! (Carlos' words, not Logan's, though Logan's pretty sure he's heard that from some TV show before.)

Veering towards forensic pathology was an easy leap from his initial medical studies and Logan couldn't say it wasn't worth it because he's been on the job for years now and he's loved every minute of it.

Until James Diamond came along.

It was another grueling summer but Logan was thankful for the heaps of cases piled on his team. They kept him in the labs instead of being out in the dastardly heat of the city. Logan scribbled notes on his clipboard, peering at the cadaver before him through thick-rimmed glasses. He lifted one of the arms to continue his observations, noting the evenness of the gash that ran from the side down to navel. Finishing up his report, Logan wheeled the slate back and locked it in.

More than half of his lunch hour was gone by then but Logan was used to that. He placed the clipboard on top of his desk and disposed of his gloves, shouldering off his coat before grabbing his backpack and making a run for the cafeteria. He hasn't even gotten out the door when someone entered it and blocked his way.

"Logan! How 'ya been, buddy?"

He paused, blinked, and a wide smile came over him. "Carlos!" They hugged and that was when Logan saw the guy standing behind his friend. Logan's first impression of him was that he looked too pretty to be a guy. Of course, Logan didn't say that out loud, he stepped back and clapped Carlos' shoulder. "I'm doing good. What brings you all the way down here?"

"I'm here to get you eating right," Carlos said, tapping the badge on his chest twice for emphasis. "Seriously, what are you still doing in the labs? What happened to your lunch break, man?"

"I was just getting there," Logan replied sheepishly, looking past Carlos' shoulder and finding the yet unnamed guy smirking at him. "Uh, who's your friend?"

Carlos gasped, suddenly remembering said friend he'd brought along. He jumped back and looked between the two of them. "Logan, this is James Diamond. He's a criminal profiler I especially recommended to work on a case here. James, this is Logan Mitchell, long-time buddy of mine and as you can see, he practically lives in the forensics lab."

"Yeah, well, you got me into this," Logan jested. He extended a hand to James who held him in a firm grip. "Nice to meet you."

"Shouldn't a doctorate title go with that name or...?" James gave him a smile that Logan swore could've passed for a toothpaste commercial.

"Oh." Logan pursed his lips in consideration. "Actually, yeah, but Dr. Mitchell's my dad... Just call me Logan."

James smile turned sweeter. "Don't mind if I do."

Letting go of James' hand , Logan nodded at Carlos. "So I was headed to the cafeteria for lunch, you guys wanna join me?"

Carlos opened his mouth to answer but James spoke ahead of it.

"We'd love to." James looked Carlos in the eyes and made a happy face.

Logan stared between the two of them.

Carlos chuckled. "Sure, why not? There's always room for dessert."

In the span of one afternoon, Logan had verified that James would indeed be a permanent fixture in his life (or at least in his work) for the foreseeable future.

James spent the afternoon in the laboratory with the forensics team and a few guys on the task force. He was sent to deal with the series of apparent suicides that had popped up a total of three bodies just this month. Carlos introduced James to the team, told the guys to play nice, and encouraged that they help as much as they can to resolve the case before another body dropped dead.

Logan picked up his clipboard along with an envelope and was heading off to deliver his report to the chief inspector's desk when James stalled him.

"You're not working this case with me?" James asked.

"Nope." Logan gave a tight smile. "Dr. Woods is in charge of that case."

The brunette held up the case file that held what data their team had gathered so far. She blushed when James looked at her. "Dr. Jennifer Woods. Pleasure to meet you." She handed the folder over. "I've heard a lot about your work, Mr. Diamond. I trust you'll lead us to the right culprit."

"Well that is my job," James winked.

Logan rolled his eyes at the collective sigh he could almost hear coming from the team. "Carlos, I'm heading out," he announced, already one foot out the door. Behind him, he heard Carlos gave a cheery goodbye before coming after him.

"What's your rush?" Carlos caught up with him just as the elevators opened.

"Nothing."

True enough, James did his job well and the force was able to intercept the killer before another 'suicide' could be committed.

Logan breathed a great sigh of relief at the news, more for the fact that James should be transferred back to whichever station he came from now that he'd solved the case. Logan didn't exactly hate James but he found the man's presence to be rather aggravating. The first thing Logan loved about working in the labs was that they were peaceful. When James contaminated his precious labs, not a single hour went by without Logan hearing a wistful sigh from someone and it doesn't take a Ph. D. holder to know who exactly they're directed at.

James was definitely not blind to these whiffs of adoration, especially since he'd begun calling half the staff with pet names two days in. Logan had been the target of it for sometime but he never really responded to them and eventually James got tired. Doesn't mean James stopped bothering him, though. Despite having Logan plaintively telling him from the start that Dr. Woods was the one assigned to his case, James persisted in getting a second opinion on Logan once his team finished their examinations.

It was annoying but that didn't change the fact that Logan was seriously fighting off a smile at the memory of it. Maybe he was a little harsh on the guy. After all, James had only ever been nice to him, if a bit exaggerated. As he entered the laboratories that morning, Logan decided that he'd ask for James' e-mail from Carlos later and send the guy a congratulatory note. Satisfied with his decision, Logan shrugged off his backpack and put on the coat he'd left folded on the back of his desk chair.

Jennifer waved good morning as she passed by and pretty soon everyone was in. A couple of apprentices were rolling out their first case of the day when the door burst open and there stood James, looking mighty pleased with himself. A few applauses and some greetings of 'good job' came from the forensics team and James accepted them humbly though he never once stopped walking until he was right in front of Logan's desk.

"You'll never believe what just happened, Logiebear," James grinned.

Logan cringed, instinctively leaning away from James. All positive thoughts towards James promptly stopped transmitting at that point. He was almost afraid of what James would reveal. With narrowed eyes, Logan ventured, "What?"

James' grin took a turn for the smug. "Well, the chief was so impressed with my work that he had me transferred here permanently. Guess that means I'll be seeing you around more often." His voice dropped into what Logan would dare call flirtatious and the look on him was just –

Geez. Logan wouldn't be able to take any more of this. His whole face and neck felt like they were on fire. It was like he was backed into a corner and James just won't stop pressing in. Before he could stop himself, Logan adjusted his glasses with a not-so-subtle middle finger directed at James.

James only laughed.

It's a couple of months later and Logan couldn't feel a thing.

The sterile smell was familiar but alien at the same time. He walked the pristine halls half-hurrying and half-stalling, his mind still undecided whether or not he should – could – actually go through with it. The room number on the screen of his phone came up and Logan held in a breath. Sitting on a plastic chair outside was Officer Zevon.

He looked up with weary eyes at Logan's approach. "Dr. Mitchell." Dak stood, looking between Logan and the door. "You here to visit James?"

Numb, Logan managed a nod.

"The nurses are checking in on him," Dak explained. "He's in bad shape."

"How bad?" Logan hated the way his voice crumpled at the end.

Blowing out a flat whistle, Dak dug his hands into the pockets of his uniform. "Two bullets to the shoulder and a concussion."

The door opened and Logan hastened to step away for the nurses to exit. He glimpsed a view of James in the hospital bed before the door swung shut. James looked terrible.

"You sure you wanna go in there, doc?" Dak stared down at Logan.

Feeling oddly defensive, Logan straightened his posture and pushed the black-rimmed glasses up his nose. "Are you going to stop me?"

Dak shrugged. "It's just that James sounded angry at you before we went on the mission. I didn't think you'd want to be here."

Logan's confidence shrunk, feet shuffling awkwardly against the floor. "Of course I want to be here," he mumbled, staring at the door. "Get some rest, I'll take over for you."

"Are you even allowed to make that call?" Dak asked, a quiet laugh underlining his question.

"I was training to be a surgeon, officer." Logan eyed him gravely. "You can leave here peacefully or I can send you to the ER."

Chuckling, Dak pulled off the cap from his head and bowed away. "Good night, doc. Don't be too hard on him."

If that was a double entendre, it completely flew over Logan's head. He entered the room, too bright for housing an unconscious occupant. The walls are a pale blue color, decorated with a small square painting of flowers and a clock that read 7:24PM. Logan settled into the plastic chair beside the bed, putting his bag by his feet. It's only then that Logan allowed himself to properly look at James; it's an image that would haunt him in his sleep.

Logan woke, soothed by the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. He grunted, registering the ache in his spine from the uncomfortable position. Logan blinked, smothering a yawn on his sleeve and then looking up. The hand in his hair was retracted and Logan found himself staring straight into hazel eyes.

"Hey, there sleeping beauty," James greeted, voice muffled by the oxygen mask over his mouth.

"H-Hi..." Logan drowsily sat back, absently patting down his hair and righting his glasses. "Are you hurting anywhere? Should I call a nurse?"

"I'm okay," James assured him, his smile waning beneath tired eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

Cricking his neck, Logan replied, "Not particularly." When nothing else was said, Logan deferred his gaze to the bedside table where a fruit basket and a couple of get-well cards sat. "Carlos brought corn dogs yesterday but the nurses weren't happy with it."

A dry chuckle came from James. "Of course he would."

"The basket's from the chief, some cards from the division people, that purple one's from Jennifer," Logan listed off the objects.

"So what did you bring?" James questioned, covered by the starched blanket from the chest down, bandages peeking from the sleeve of his hospital gown.

Logan wet his lips. "I'm here... with an apology."

"Apology accepted," James responded without hesitation.

"But–"

"We'll both be better off if we just forget about the stupid argument, agree?" James posed the question like a statement, the low arch of his brows asking for compliance.

"Just let me say sorry," Logan pleaded to which James smiled thinly.

"Personally, the fact that you were sleeping here, obviously tired out coming straight from work says sorry enough." James motioned for Logan to come closer, careful not to move his aching shoulder. "But we can also do it this way: I'll forgive you if you forgive me for getting shot at and giving myself a concussion."

Leaning his arms along the bedside, Logan shook his head. "You're impossible, James."

"I think the word you're looking for is irresistible."

Logan scoffed, not even disguising the smile that's playing on his lips.

It's past six, the lab was empty, and Logan was nearly done with his examination. Dr. Jennifer Woods and her apprentice, a sprightly young woman also named Jennifer, were helping him.

This gunshot victim was delivered to them late in the afternoon, killer unknown but the feds were hoping the bullets retrieved would answer their questions.

The doors slid open and even without turning around, Logan knew who it was.

"Really, Logie? It's a hot Friday night and you're holding these pretty ladies hostage in here?"

The two Jennifers waved at the newcomer. "Hi, Mr. Diamond."

"We're working," Logan dismissed him, or tried to at least.

"It's almost done, anyway," Dr. Woods smiled at James. "Take a seat; we'll be over before you know it."

"Okay, Jennifer, careful now." Logan held up a plastic bag, into which the apprentice dropped a blood-soaked bullet, then another.

James walked over and stood beside Logan, peering over the shorter man's shoulders. "Hm. Early twenties, left-handed, that tattoo is henna around a week old, there's–" He reached out hand to lift up the girl's chin but a gloved hand slapped his away.

"Don't you have your own work to do?" Logan closed the ziplock bag ferociously, throwing a pointed look at James who only sidled up to him even closer.

Hiding their smiles, Dr. Woods took the evidence bags from Logan while Jennifer took over the notations and promptly zipped up the body bag. "We'll take these up to the deputy's office," Dr. Woods stated, a conniving smirk on her features. "Leave you gentlemen to finish things down here."

"See you on Monday." Jennifer waved back as she and her mentor went out the door.

Raising a brow at the women's exit, Logan's attention was swayed when James planted a kiss on the top of his head. "James," he muttered in a warning tone, pulling off the latex gloves.

"Let's have dinner," James whispered, leaning back to meet Logan's eyes.

"What? Right now?" Logan scrunched up his nose. "But I smell like dead people."

"I don't mind." Wrapping his arms around Logan's waist, James welcomed the familiar weight of Logan against him.

"And this is why we can't have nice things." Logan hummed, angling his head just right to press their lips together. James' arms tighten around him as their kiss dragged on, the soft sensations fueling the heat under their skin. He licked at James' lips, breathing in a hot exhale from the other when they parted. "This is so unprofessional."

"I don't know," James shrugged, nipping at Logan's bottom lip. "We've done worse things than make out in front of a cadaver before."

"Stop." Logan laid his head on James' shoulder where the wounds from months ago had finally healed.

Chuckling, James couldn't help but tease, "That's not our safeword, Logiebear."

"James."

Logan was sure this was a date. It's a date and he's not freaking out, how in the world was he not freaking out? Instead, he drank more soda and tilted his head the other way, listening to every word that was leaving James mouth. He'd been staring at it for the better part of the hour, wondering how it's gotten that sheen that makes it look so pink and kissable. The only reason those thoughts passed unceremoniously through his mind was because he'd thought about them before: that time James showed up at his house when he called in sick because of a cold; six weeks ago when they went to a midnight premiere; yesterday at lunch when James stole a grape from his fruit platter. "So what does your mom running a make-up company have to do with you taking up a behavioral science degree?" Logan asked.

Dipping a french fry into ketchup, James took a bite before continuing. "Well, you know." He chewed for a second. "I've been told that it would be a waste for a face like this not to get a taste of the big screen but I wanted to prove that I'm more than that."

"Okay... but psychology?" Logan wondered, spinning the straw around his drink. "That's kind of..."

"Kind of what?" James dared him.

"It's kind of impressive," Logan concluded, lifting his drinking cup in a toast.

A satisfied grin lifted the corners of James' mouth. "I am so much more than just a pretty face."

"I know."

"So what else do you want to know?" James shook some salt off his fries. Even under the unflattering fluorescent diner lights, he looked every bit the runway model that his mother used to be.

Logan considered his options for a moment. Finally, he smiled sweetly and looked James in the eyes. "Is this a date, James?"

If possible, the gleam in James' eyes brightened. "It is to me," he replied, honest and sure.

Logan felt a thrill at James' confidence. He hadn't been on many dates but Logan just knew which cards to play. "Just so you know, I don't put out until the third or fourth date."

James' whole face floods with laughter and he took a second before leaning over the table. His eyes demanded Logan's attention and Logan willingly surrendered. "Well believe me, Logie, when I say we're way past the fourth date right now."