I do not own or wish to own any of the people, places, or situations in the following dribble. Only the idea is mine. All mine. Back off.
Since the atmosphere at Major Case was horrific on a daily basis, the Halloween decorations on everyone's desks were cute and/or goofy. Pencil holders with smiley jack-o-lanterns and Casper the Ghost ties appeared everywhere on October 29th. Halloween was actually on a Sunday this year. Bummer.
Alex was ready for the kids in her building with the standard bag of fun-sized candies. The previous year she'd spent the holiday with Goren, her nephew making her moody and in desperate need of friendly company. And he was friendly.
Kids absolutely loved Big Bobby, partly because he was so nice and funny, partly because he always knew what their costumes were, but mostly because he gave them all real candy bars, presented with expert slight of hand.
He had a friend who worked in a warehouse downtown and got him discounts on the big Hershey chocolate bars, plain, milk, dark, almonds, peanut-buttery, caramel-filled or just plain sinful all the way through. Eamse had devoured three when he wasn't looking and wept over the scale on November 1st.
She sat behind her desk with cute little black cat earrings and the manner of a woman wearing sexy underwear no one would ever know about. With a little extra flirt and a little extra smile she greeted Deakins striding toward her, hands in his pockets.
"Going to the party tonight?" he asked.
"Maybe. I know Goren's going but other than him and you I don't know anyone."
"Ah, don't worry about it. You'll make friends," he said, tapping his pager and thinking. "There's a shrink who works with Special Victims who'll be there. I think you're like him. He's a nice guy."
She rolled her eyes. "If there's one thing this detective doesn't need these days it's a shrink."
"Speaking of which, where's Bobby?" He looked around anxiously. Goren was never late. Ever. The janitors were late sometimes. Not Goren.
"I don't know. Probably got his Superman cape stuck in a door somewhere."
Deakins chuckled. "Now there's an image."
"What are you going to be this year?"
"Nolan Ryan. You?"
"Lawyer."
"Scary."
She grinned. "Yeah, I know. The kids in my building won't come next year."
"Darn," he said with a smile in his voice. "That means you have to eat all that candy all by yourself."
"I'll pull through."
Just then the elevator doors opened and Dracula stepped into the room. Eamse and every other heterosexual female with eyes on the floor got whiplash from double-takes.
Goren's shiny black size-13 shoes tapped expensively with his rhythmic walk. Eamse watched him approach with a flood of saliva under her tongue. He wasn't dressed far away from the norm, but the differences were eye-catching.
Rather than the dark blue wool suit of his nine-to-five typicality, he donned a jet black jacket and pants made of a flowy material. He wore a shiny vest that glinted maroon in the light and a deep blood-red silk shirt with a no nonsense tie. His dark hair, silver at the temples, was swept back and short sideburns were cut jaggedly. For the greatest detective alive today, he stayed pretty oblivious to the staring eyes of many a woman whose dream just came true.
"Good morning," he said as Eamse realized her mouth was agape and quickly shut it.
Deakins coughed to cover a laugh. "Morning, Detective. What kept you?"
He grinned apologetically. Artificial fangs sparkled darkly behind his lips. "Sorry. I guess my landlord is sick or something; three women in my building this morning had something break in their apartments they wanted me to take a look at." He took a seat naively and got out his notebook. "Good thing I'm good with little electrical glitches or I'd still be there."
"Yeah," said a secretary, dashing past with a carton of toner. "Good thing." She winked at Eamse.
"Well, you make a good vampire," commented Deakins.
"Thank you," said Goren. "Bram Stoker's original." His voice wrapped around Eamse's neck and shot down her spine, tingling around to her chest. She crossed her arms over her bosom and pretended to be peeved.
"How do you plan on interrogating anyone dressed like a vampire?"
"It might come in handy," said Deakins, turning to leave. He lowered his voice so only Eamse could hear. "Hell, he could probably seduce a confession out of Miss Yomamari this afternoon, don't you think?"
He was gone before she got the chance to kick his ass.
She looked back up and her temperature rose about ten degrees. Goren stood with his back to her, watching a hawk fly outside the window. "Did you see that?" he asked, slipping off his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. There's nothing more dangerous than the rear view of a broad shouldered man in a vest. Eamse crossed her legs. "Buteo jamaicensis," he continued. "Red-tailed hawk. He must've just caught himself a pigeon. Good for him."
Eamse opened a manila folder, looking at crime scene photos rather than her partner's powerful back. Her mind quickly became immersed in the tragedy before her. Not for long.
As he had done a million times before, Goren came up behind her, arms on either side, his face inches from hers so they looked at the same thing at the same time. She glanced around. A handful of people looked quickly away, but their dirty looks were transferred to their paperwork rather than her.
His breath was hot on her neck. "We've looked at these already," he said. Damn that voice. "Let's try a new position, Alex. We won't find anything new here."
He hadn't called her Alex in weeks. She trembled. Suddenly she was that thirty-something girl assigned to work with a legend. Images she hadn't ad in years reentered her mind. The first six months of their partnership they'd had crushes on each other, but they knew better than to do anything. Now her brain was overrun with scenarios. He'd shaved today, but that didn't matter. Oh, God to feel that scruffy cheek on her neck and thighs. Strong arms around her, big body covering her, huge hands cradling her head as smoldering brown eyes read her wants.
He knew something about everything and was downright expert in a handful of topics. What else was he practiced in? She bet he was hung like a horse, to boot.
With a shudder she pushed back from him and decided to be honest. He looked at her strangely as her chair rolled out from under him. "Today," she began, "you will have to stay at your desk. Do not stand in my intimate space, do not whisper in my ear, and do not say anything that could be misinterpreted as an innuendo."
He cocked his head at her, one eyebrow raised, but obediently rested back in his own chair. "Why?"
She wheeled back under her desk. "Red is your color," she mumbled.
For a moment he stared at her, then dawning realization spread across his face. He cast his eyes around the room and a half a dozen heads guiltily lowered over their coffee mugs or keyboards. "Really?"
Now, don't you dare get an ego," she warned. "You look hot today. Everyone looks hot sometimes."
He smiled. "You look hot everyday, Eamse."
"Don't make me smack you."
She'd never admit to suddenly blushing from the inside out.
Happy Halloween!