A/N: Tada - a onehot that is less than 3k words, is not angsty whatsoever and maybe even a little bit funny and amusing. Depending on how easily you are amused.
The idea was actually inspired by a conversation I had with a colleague of mine yesterday. Also... maybe some of you - at least those of you who are familiar with it - might feel reminded about the story "Scientifically incorrect" which followed a similiar plot - just different study :) If I find another study, I will call it a series LOL
Hope you enjoy...
After what could only be described as a chaotic morning, hunting down my FTAs and more or less failing since they didn't turn out as cooperative as you'd expect cannabis consuming people to be, I let myself sink down on the buttery soft leather of the diner I had chosen for my refuge. Maybe after some coffee, the breakfast special as well as several slices of pie the world would look better. Hopefully anyway.
I had just placed my order and retrieved my phone from my purse, killing some time until my order would arrive when I noticed a shadow falling suddenly over me. Looking up, my chaotic morning turned into bad since I stared into Morelli's face.
"Cupcake," he said, sliding into the seat opposite of me and signalling the waitress. Great, that meant he wasn't just going to disappear any time soon. Yay me.
"What can I do for you, Detective?" I asked, trying to sound civil. The operating word being try. Morelli and me had split what I would call amicable a few months ago. It didn't take long to realize on my part that being amicable was something Morelli wasn't capable off. I stopped counting the messages I had received from him starting a few days after our split, most of them seeming like they had been typed in a rather intoxicated state and covered a lot of ground. Some begging, some pleading, a lot of complaining, bitching and blaming me for God knows what and then a few half-assed threats that didn't even make me raise an eyebrow. Mainly Burg-threats I couldn't even care about to begin with. Needless to say, none of his messages resulted in the desired reaction, which was followed by more nonsense. I hardly replied to any of them, not bothering with that waste of my time.
"How are things between you and Manoso these days?" he asked and I shouldn't be really surprised. Even when we had still been dating, it seemed he was more or less obsessed with Ranger's part in my life. Weirdly enough, it should have always been me being obsessed, seeing that Ranger always had held a special place in my heart and life and when I had kicked Morelli to the curb, things between me and Carlos had moved interestingly enough in a very serious direction, almost like someone finally had gotten a wake-up call and claimed what had technically been his all along.
"Couldn't be better," I just replied calmly. I wasn't certain what Morelli was expecting I'd say. Even if Carlos and me had split, I certainly wouldn't run to Joe and cry my eyes out. So, what was his point? And even more importantly, what was his angle? Because I knew him and I knew there was one.
The waitress finally appeared – well finally for him, if I had my way, she could have stayed God knows where and never appear again unless it was for my food. Morelli ordered himself a coffee and she left, leaving me back to dealing with my idiotic ex all by myself. Not that she seemed like she could have been a lot of help, seeing as she was more or less swooning all over Morelli and looked like she was one step away from offering herself as Today's specials.
"You know, I'm worried about you," he all of a sudden remarked, sounding not very worried. And also, why would he be worried about me? It isn't like he had been worried about me an awful lot while we were dating and he had a right to be worried. He pretended he did and for the longest time I actually thought that he really was. I mean, my life had always been rather adventurous and not following the same normal direction most people did or expected. Most of it was due to my job that opened a whole can of oddity and brought rather colourful people in my life. People with all sorts of problems, attitudes and unlawful decisions or activities. So, worry wasn't necessarily misplaced, if he had been worried about me. Which he wasn't. Most often he had been more worried about what my actions, craziness and visitors reflected on him. Because he himself was what Morelli was most often worried about the most. What his colleagues at the TPD thought about things, what his family thought about things, what my family – or rather my mother – thought about things. Because, in the Burg one thing topped everything. And that was the image people had of you. And the gossip they could get out of you. But that was a different issue.
In my mind I went quickly through my most recent cases or things that made the papers, involving me and none of them would give Morelli enough reason for a personal visit or worry. Since none of it reflected on him or was connected to him. So, again, what was his angle?
"You don't seem like whatever has you worried, keeps you up at night. So… I'm certain you can let it go and let me get on with my morning."
His coffee appeared out of nowhere at around the same time my breakfast feast arrived. There went my hope for a quiet breakfast all to myself then.
"I saw something interesting on the news last night. Something that should maybe worry you as well and also validates what I have been preaching for years," he went on, taking a sip of his coffee and leaving me guessing whatever weird thing he could have seen last night. I was certain I hadn't been in any news program, because if I had, my mother would have informed me by now with a lengthy monologue about somebody else's kids I didn't know, didn't want to know and didn't care about but who would never ever ever do what I did. Whatever that was. Since there had been no call whatsoever – as a matter of fact no call for a few days as well – I knew I was safe in regards of last night's news.
"If you keep up the suspense any longer, I might spontaneously combust," I said after a long moment of silence and said it in an almost bored voice.
Instead of a direct reply, telling me something I almost certainly couldn't care less about, Morelli typed on his phone for a while, shoving it almost into my face a moment later. I wasn't sure what I was looking at to be honest.
"And that google search is supposed to tell me what exactly?"
"It's a study by an Austrian University."
As if that answered everything! I just looked at Joe for a long while, knowing that if I waited him out, he would continue. "People who drink black coffee are more likely sadists and psychopaths."
"Thanks for the heads up. I'll make a note to ask my future FTAs how they prefer their coffee before I arrest them."
"This is not about your FTAs!" Morelli more or less replied sounding annoyed.
"Then what is it about? Because you make as much sense as yesterday's lunch menu at that fancy restaurant Le Bleu, who decided on publishing said lunch menu in French. And only French." I was still annoyed about that, seeing that people left and right kept gushing about that place but I drew the line at comprehendible menus. I wouldn't order something out of the blue and then end up with frogs or escargots. If I needed a dictionary for food, it was definitely too much effort.
"How does Manoso drink his coffee again?" he asked, sounding irritated that I hadn't taken the initial bait. Well, if I had understood his intention…
"Black," I answered, not even worried about what he was about to say. It was most likely the same crap he had managed to say over the years over and over again.
"Have I not said over and over again that Manoso was a psychopath?"
"I think you called him a loose cannon," I corrected him, still bored and taking a bite of my food. "And you honestly take whatever some dudes in some European country you probably can't even locate on a map for granted? Why, Morelli? Also, I'm no longer your problem, which were your words exactly in several messages from you to me. So… what's your deal?"
"You are dating a psychopath and you are not worried?"
I just shrugged at his question. "Not really, are you? Also… I dated you, somehow a psychopath seems like an upgrade at this stage. At least I'm no longer linked to a narcissistic asshole."
"If this goes to hell, don't come running to me, crying I didn't warn you."
"I won't, no worries," I just said as a matter of fact. "Also, warn me about what exactly?"
"Psy-cho-path," Morelli more or less yelled, pronouncing every single syllable. Somehow – not sure why though – this was fun. Maybe I finally lost my last few marbles.
I was about to reply with something hopefully witty when I was unexpectedly interrupted.
"As I can see, Morelli, you still feel the need to harass my girlfriend. You start seeming slightly pathetic," Carlos said, appearing out of nowhere, looking down at the two of us and sitting down next to me a second later. "If you are not careful, I might suggest to Steph a restraining order."
"Based on what?"
"I'm certain your last few messages might provide enough reason," he said calmly and I remained silent, finally eating happily my breakfast. It wasn't as uninterrupted as I had hoped and anticipated, but at least I was finally in good company.
"Go ahead and try your worst, Manoso. Whatever you think will stop her from returning to me eventually, it won't."
"Funny, how you just seemed to call me a psychopath based on my preference for black coffee and yet you are the one with the delusion, a first sign for psychopaths." ²
I was surprised when Morelli didn't reply. Usually, he was first in line to dismantle an argument or counter-argue Carlos Manoso. In a way, for the longest time my safety seemed to have been the only thing these two could agree on.
"Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but that same study found that people who prefer milky or sugary coffee generally tended to have more "agreeable" personality traits like sympathy, cooperation, and kindness. And since I have never really seen you expressing a whole lot of sympathy or being cooperate and kind in situations which didn't profit you foremost, I would go out on a limb and suggest that the study might need a bit more research."
Instead of a reply, I saw Morelli just huff and look like he might explode any second. Guess, Carlos had hit his target. If there was one thing my man was exceptionally good at, it was hitting his target – as well as applying pressure.
"Don't come running my way when my prognosis turns out to be true," Morelli finally said, after having drained his coffee at once and got up a second later.
"I won't," I just said and saw him leave angrily after that. "And it isn't your prognosis, but rather some… weird research that tells us literally nothing," I yelled after him, but he had already left the diner.
"Babe," Carlos said after a long moment of silence during which he seemed to have studied the rather impressive number of plates in front of me.
"What?" I asked. "I had a chaotic morning and things certainly didn't improve when Morelli showed up," I justified and saw Carlos smile at me widely. "But they certainly improved when you arrived."
Leaning towards him, I kissed him softly, taking another bite of my cake a second later. Priorities. They were important.
Carlos ordered himself a coffee – black of course, because everything else might kill him – and did his usual thing to improve my morning and my entire week at that. Just by being around. And letting me call him my boyfriend.
Sometimes, it was the small things that brought the biggest joy. And if Carlos turned out to be a psychopath, I guess we could open our own club, seeing that on some days I wasn't far away from being one myself either. Especially on days when I had to deal with Morelli. And maybe the common nominator wasn't black coffee, but one single person. One that could make you psychopathic.
THE END -
² - not sure that is a real sign. For the purpose of fanfiction, let's say it is, shall we?
