1. Percy
The first time it happened, Gregorio was pouring herself a cup of coffee. She had yet to acquire a taste for the "essence de chicorée," but with the way this case was going—had been going, non-stop, for nearly forty-six hours, now—she needed every drop of caffeine she could get. She had just finished a brief stint of sleep on the sofa upstairs, but she was fairly certain it had left her more exhausted than before.
She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and reached for the container of sugar, growling when the little metal spout fought her as she tried to open it. Under normal circumstances, she didn't take sugar, but she was banking on the chance that if she dumped in enough, it would give her the high she needed to last a few more hours. She clanked her spoon around inside a few times before tapping the loose drops free and tossing it in the sink. A couple of boxes of pizza had been left on the table and she grabbed a slice of Hawaiian, tearing off a bite and making a face. It had long ago gone cold. She swiped up a paper plate and shook her head, grumbling under her breath.
She was about to head back to her desk when she tripped, letting out a less-than-dignified yelp as she flailed to catch herself, wrapping her arms around a chair and spewing an impressive stream of colorful words as coffee sloshed over her hands and her paper plate fell to the floor. Her pizza would have gone with it, were it not still hanging from her clenched teeth. Balance regained, she looked down to see what she had tripped over. The lights in the kitchen were dim, but she could just see the toe of a small black combat boot peeking out from beneath the table. She frowned. Someone had left their shoes in the floor?
Unless…
She set her mug on the counter, slapped her pizza, plate-less, beside it, and got down on her hands and knees, squinting into the shadows under the table. Gregorio felt her eyebrows climb.
There, sprawled on her stomach in the middle of the floor, was Sonja Percy, sound asleep. At least, soundly enough that Gregorio plowing over her foot hadn't seemed to make a dent. Her head was pillowed on her arms, right foot tucked beneath her left knee. At first glance, Gregorio had thought she was covered by a small blanket, but a closer look revealed it to be a jacket—or, more specifically, a shirt-jac. A denim shirt-jac. LaSalle's denim shirt-jac.
She smirked. Interesting.
The way the garment was able to fully cover not only her trunk but half the length of her legs, as well, paired with the way she was scowling in her sleep only served to reinforce the "grumpy warrior dwarf" image Gregorio had had when she first met Percy.
"You havin' some kinda breakdown down there, or were you just tired of chairs?"
Gregorio straightened so fast she nearly whacked her head on the table's edge. Patton was stopped in the doorway that led to the courtyard, his head cocked, eyeing her quizzically where she squatted in the floor.
"No, I just—" She broke off, gesturing at the sleeping form before her.
Patton caught sight of the wayward toe and a knowing look crossed his face. "Who is it?"
"Percy. Wait-does she do this often?" Gregorio was unable to hide her surprise at Patton's lack thereof.
He snorted. "Girl, you got no idea. They all do. Cases go long like this, they catch their Z's whenever—and wherever—they can. They just plop down wherever they at, and abracadabra—they out light a light." He straightened his tie and patted it back beneath his vest. "Dang near given me heart attacks on more than one occasion."
Gregorio frowned, turning her attention back to Percy as she processed this new information. She was growing accustomed to her colleagues' laid back work environment, but this was…She shook her head. "Wow."
"You're tellin' me. I almost ran over LaSalle, once."
Her ankles and the backs of her knees complained as she straightened, scooping up her plate and chucking it before she retrieved her mug and took another bite of pizza. "Now that's a story I wanna hear." They made their way back into the bullpen, leaving Percy to her strange napping grounds.
2. Sebastian
The second time it happened, she had been sent to the lab to see how Sebastian was doing with the forensic analysis of some powdery substance they had found on their killer's most recent vic. That made six, total. For now. She ran a hand over her face and sighed, offering up a short prayer that their gangly forensic geek would be in an English-speaking mood before rapping on the pane of glass in the door and breezing through. "Sebastian, where are you with the—"
She frowned. The man in question was nowhere to be seen. "Sebastian?"
There was no response.
She ducked back into the hall and poked her head into the morgue. Even Wade was showing signs of exhaustion. If they didn't catch this guy soon..."Hey, Doc! Sebastian in here?"
"Hello, Tammy. I'm afraid not. You checked the lab? He was in there just a few minutes ago."
"Yeah, I didn't see him. Huh. That's okay, I'll just wait for him. Probably just went to the bathroom or something."
Back in the lab, Gregorio picked up one of Sebastian's dolls ("Action figures, Gregorio. They're action figures. Have some class.") and fiddled with it as she leaned back against his desk. A few minutes ticked by, and there was still no sign of Sebastian. She shook her head, slamming the doll back down on the desk, and was about to go looking for him when she heard a contented sigh.
She straightened, frowning. Her hand went to her service weapon, senses on alert. What if their killer was here, in the lab? What if he'd already taken care of Sebastian? Another sound led her to a multi-layered cart. There it was again, near her feet. It was almost like a...snore.
An idea formed in her mind as she slowly crouched before the cart.
Shoving her weapon back in its holster, she blew out a huff and rolled her eyes at herself and the sight before her. Yup.
Sebastian was curled on the cart's bottom rack, sleeping peacefully in the single most odd position she had ever seen. It looked like he had sat down cross-legged and just...folded the rest of him over his legs. His face was smashed against the metal, gentle breaths whooshing in and out through slightly puckered lips. Gregorio snorted. He looked like an over-grown baby. Or a pretzel.
She decided ripping off the proverbial band-aid was the best option in this case. Well. At least the most entertaining. "Sebastian!"
The man jerked upright, eyes going wide and then becoming slits when he smacked his head on the rack above him.
Gregorio smirked. "Sleeping Beauty awakes!"
Sebastian rubbed at his head. "That was mean."
Gregorio shrugged, watching with some amusement as he carefully maneuvered himself out of his chosen bed. "Maybe so, but that's what you get for napping on the job. How tall are you, anyway? What, six-two, six-three?"
"Six-two. Why?"
"Six-two. You wanna tell me how the heck you fit in that thing?"
He shrugged, stretching as he stood. "I'm flexible."
"I noticed that."
Sebastian's eyes cut to hers sharply as his ears began to glow a bright red. "Oh. Did—did you—was I—"
"Oh, yeah. For sure."
The red spread to his cheeks.
Gregorio gave his arm a pat. "Don't worry, Pretzel Man. Your secret's safe with me."
3. LaSalle
Isler wasn't supposed to be here. Not now. Anytime but now.
The team had been running on fumes for nearly a week, frantically trying to stop an impending terrorist attack. They had averted the bombing planned for a Mardi Gras parade through the Quarter two days ago, but there was no time to celebrate their victory. Their man was still on the loose. Pride and LaSalle had been working triple overtime to let the junior agents get rest where they could during the hunt, and they were beginning to look like the ghoulishly pale masks their would-be bomber left behind him. Pride was consuming coffee by the pot, and when she asked why he wasn't taking a break, he just shook his head and said he'd sleep when they got their man. For his part, LaSalle just flashed a very subdued version of his usual grin and said he never slept much over Mardi Gras season, anyway. When she'd shoved her half-full mug of lukewarm coffee into his hands, he'd stared into it longingly for a full thirty seconds before reluctantly passing it back and shaking his head. "Can't. Messes with my aim."
It was now nearly ten o'clock at night on day three since the bombing attempt and tensions were high, a feeling of dread clogging their usually comfortable workspace as they waited for the next shoe to drop. Pride and Percy were interrogating their suspect's cousin, and LaSalle was...Well, Gregorio didn't actually know where he was, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too busy wallowing in self-pity as she sat with her face planted in the files spread over her desk, grumbling under her breath.
And of course, that was when Isler showed up. "Am I interrupting something?"
Gregorio squinted up at him, wishing she could wipe the smug expression off of his face. "You couldn't have called first?"
"No. For all intents and purposes, I'm not here."
"Okay." She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, not allowing herself to feel sheepish about the compromising position he had found her in. He could judge from his easy chair all he wanted. No way he knew what they had been through the last few days. "If you're not supposed to be here, why are you?"
"I may have a lead."
She sat up straighter, all contention forgotten. "Really? That's great, let me get Pride, and we can—"
"Text him. We won't need backup, and he's interrogating Miles Ortega, isn't he?"
"How did you—" he quirked an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. "FBI. Right." She tugged on her jacket and pulled out her phone. "Address?"
He gave it to her, and she shot off a quick text to Pride before following him out the door. "Where's your car?"
"I'm not here in an official capacity, remember? I took a taxi from the airport."
"Okay. We'll take the truck." She climbed in the driver's seat and sent another text, this one to LaSalle. Got a lead. Borrowing your baby. Don't worry, I'll get her back to you in one piece. She smirked. Probably.
"You sending a Dear John, Gregorio? Let's go!"
She put her phone away and made a face. "Yes, sir."
As they pulled out into the street, a sudden burst of recorded drums and a chant of "Roll! Tide!" filled the truck. It lasted less than a second, but it was enough to nearly give Gregorio a heart attack.
Isler looked at her with raised eyebrows. "That's your text alert? I never pegged you for an Alabama fan."
She snorted. "I'm not. That would be LaSalle's. He must have left his phone in here." She frowned, feeling around for it in the center console with her free hand.
"Huh. Professional."
"He is! Usually. We're all a little frazzled right now, is all," she said defensively, despite her surprise that LaSalle would have neglected to grab his phone with all of this going on. Her hand drifted into the back, shuffling through a quilt that she didn't remember being there yesterday. "It won't happen again."
Isler shrugged and looked out the window as Gregorio continued patting down the quilt. Where had he left his phone? She was about to give up, deciding she'd search for it later, when her hand came into contact with a limp something that was very hot, very rough, and very dry.
A hand.
She let out a squawk and the truck swerved a little as she jerked her hand back.
"Gregorio, what the—"
"I—there's a—" LaSalle. It had to be LaSalle. That would explain the phone. And the quilt. Her jaw clenched. "Sorry, I um—I think that quilt has been on a few too many camping trips. There was a spider or something."
"You're afraid of spiders?"
She leveled a steely glare on Isler. "Are you gonna sit there and tell me you're not?"
He shifted in his seat and returned to looking out the window. "No comment."
"That's what I thought." She glued her eyes to the road ahead and cautiously reached back beneath the quilt to find the hand again. It squeezed her fingers. Uh-huh. Her eyes narrowed. She patted around until she found what she guessed to be chest or stomach and smacked it. Hard. There was a hollow thunking sound and a soft "oomph!" She smiled. Stomach, then.
Isler's eyes cut from her to the quilt piled between the front and back seats a few times before lingering on her, eyebrow quirked, mouth opening and closing once, twice, and then again before he wisely chose to leave his questions unasked.
She spared him a prim glance. "Spider. Got it."
4. Loretta
"Hey, Doc, you in here?" Percy poked her head in the door of the morgue and stopped short. "Well, now."
Gregorio leaned in to see over her shoulder. "What?" She blinked. "Oh. That's, uh, that's a new one."
"Yeah. Should we, uh—"
"Nah. She's been on her feet for even longer than we have on this one."
Percy shot her a doubtful look.
"Okay, well. At least as long," she amended.
They stood in silence for a few moments before Percy broke it. "She looks so…"
"Peaceful."
"Yeah." Percy's face scrunched up. "She's been in this line of work too long."
"For sure."
A beat.
Gregorio shifted on her feet. "This making you uncomfortable, too?"
"Oh, heck yeah."
"Great, just checking."
Gregorio didn't notice the door to Sebastian's lab open and close until a whisper, loud, hot, and mockingly conspiratorial, brushed past her ear. "What're y'all lookin' at?"
The girls whipped around in unison to find LaSalle, smirking down at them and looking very pleased with himself.
Percy put a finger to her lips and shushed him fiercely, despite the fact that her yelp as a result of his whisper had been much louder than the whisper itself.
He held up placating hands. "Sorry. Seriously, though. What's so—" he broke off, eyebrows shooting up as his head cocked to one side. "Well, there's something I never thought I'd see."
"You and me both," Gregorio said, shaking her head.
LaSalle joined their stack—his chin jutting over Gregorio's shoulder, Gregorio's over Percy's.
The solemn silence was shattered by a loud shutter sound. The girls jumped and swiveled again. LaSalle was holding his phone aloft, grinning down at the photo he had just taken.
They glared.
He threw his hands out indignantly. "What? King would never believe me if I don't get some photographic evidence of...this." He waved vaguely towards the sight before him.
Gregorio considered for a minute before shrugging. "That's fair."
Percy pulled the door shut gently and stood on tiptoes to see past LaSalle's shoulder. "Well, let's see it, Country Mouse!"
Gregorio stationed herself at his other shoulder as he turned his screen so they could both see the photo of Loretta Wade, curled contentedly beneath a white sheet, sound asleep on the morgue's only available autopsy table.
5. Pride
Gregorio's nose twitched as it noticed a strange element joining the mouth-watering scent of Pride's Louisiana-famous gumbo. She looked up from her paperwork. Something was burning.
She waited a moment, expecting to hear Pride scrambling around in an attempt to rescue his food, but all was silent in the kitchen. Frowning, she stood and followed her nose to find Pride standing at the stove, one hand at his side, the other loosely gripping a wooden spoon. The spoon was poised to stir the gumbo, but it wasn't stirring. Gregorio watched for a moment as he just stood there, unmoving.
"Pride?"
Nothing.
"Hey, boss."
Nada.
"Okay, you're starting to freak me out, here."
Nope.
She crossed the room, coming to a halt when she reached his side, hand going out to take his arm. "Pride, are you o—" she dropped her hand to her side as Pride released a loud snore. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me. You too?"
Another snore.
"Pride."
Snore.
"Pride!"
No dice.
She took his arm urgently. "Your gumbo's burning!"
Pride jerked and choked on a snore, his stirring starting up again before his eyes were fully open. He blinked. "Gregorio?"
"The one and only. I thought an experienced cook like yourself would know better than to fall asleep at the stove?"
Pride sighed and waved her off. "It wasn't intentional. I'm good now. The team needs to eat."
"The team can get take-out. You need to sleep. Seriously." She took the spoon from him. "Sonja can't eat this, anyway. I'll call the mice twins and have them pick something up on their way back."
Pride scoffed and shook his head. "You've all been working so hard on this one. I wanted to do somethin' nice for y'all."
"And we appreciate that, Pride. We do. But you've been going just as hard as the rest of us, and honestly…" she glanced at the scorching gumbo and flicked the burner off before putting a hand on Pride's arm. "I think the nicest thing you could do for us right now is to get some sleep before you burn this place down, yeah?"
Pride chuckled. "You may be right."
"Oh, I'm right." She put a hand on his back and herded him to the door. "Go sleep. The case will be here when you wake up, and so will we. If I know LaSalle and Percy, there'll probably even be some po' boys."
Pride turned to face her. "Are you sure? I can—"
"I'm sure. Positive. Go sleep."
He raised his eyebrows at the commanding tone her voice had taken on. "You do remember that I'm your boss, right?"
"Yep. Always. Now get out of here."
He held up his hands in surrender. "All right, you win. I'm goin'." He took exactly five steps before turning back. "If you find anything—"
"We'll call you. Go. Sleep. We got this."
"Alright. Okay. Okay, I'm goin'."
Gregorio stepped out into the courtyard and watched with arms crossed and eyebrow quirked until his door closed behind him. Then she fired off a jubilant fist-pump and pulled out her phone. "Hey, Percy. You'll never guess what I just pulled off."
+1. Gregorio
"Hey, you seen Gregorio recently?"
LaSalle looked up from the sea of paperwork his desk was drowning in to see Percy standing in the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips, face scrunched in the way that made her nose crinkle a little. He straightened out the smirk that tried to form on his face at the sight. "Not since I got back from Miss Loretta's. Why? What's up?"
"Nothin's up, really, I just wanted to get her opinion on Arlan Kyle's file. Let her work her profiling magic and jazz. But she's not in the kitchen, she's not in Patton's office, the courtyard is a ghost yard."
"You check upstairs?"
She sent him a Look and the smirk threatened to resurface. "Of course I did. I even checked the interrogation rooms. Zero. Zilch. Nada."
"Huh. Maybe she's out chasin' down a lead, or something."
Percy looked doubtful. "Without telling anyone? That's not Gregorio." Her eyes took on a mischievous glint. "You, on the other hand..."
"That was one time."
"Yeah, and Brody and I almost shot you that one time." She put air-quotes around the last two words.
"One could argue that I almost shot you and Brody."
"Yeah, okay. Believe what you want to, Country Mouse, but the point is, taking off alone, without telling anybody, is a monumentally dumb idea and Gregorio isn't monumentally dumb."
LaSalle squinted at the implied insult. "Somebody's playing hardball tonight."
"Aw, sorry. You're not always dumb." Her tone changed abruptly from condescending sugar to bored chagrin. "But when you are, it's monumental."
LaSalle rolled his eyes, but couldn't quite stifle his laugh. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you that one. But you better watch yourself, City Mouse. Next time you do somethin' stupid I'm gonna be on you like buzzards on week-old roadkill."
Percy made a face as she sat down at her desk. "Well, that's a lovely mental image. But you're gonna be waitin' a while, Country Mouse. You got nothin' on me."
"Yet." Chris rooted around in the desk's top drawer and came up with an empty box. "You got a paperclip?"
"Ran out this morning. Check Gregorio's?"
LaSalle rose and stretched, ambling over to Gregorio's desk and pulling open a drawer. His eyebrows shot up as he took in the haphazard tangle of office supplies. "She's got a whole danged arsenal in here!" Boxes of staples, spare pencil leads, scotch tape, zebra pens, and there—paper clips. "Think fast." He chucked a box at Percy, slinging it far enough that she shot back in her chair to catch it, barely slamming her feet down in time to save herself from toppling backward.
She held the small package aloft, a triumphant smirk on her face. "Read 'em and weep, LaSalle."
"Can't blame a guy for tryin'." His grin abruptly turned to a frown when his shoe brushed against something hard under the desk. He moved his foot around a little. Whatever it was, it was large. He braced a hand on the desktop and crouched to take a look. The grin returned full tilt as his head popped back up. "Pssst. Percy!"
She looked up. "Why are you on the floor?"
He held a finger to his lips and beckoned her over.
She crossed to the desk, a frown gathering on her face. "Why are we whispering?"
"Look."
She stepped behind him, bending a little to follow his gaze. "What are you—" She broke off when she caught sight of Tammy Gregorio curled beneath her desk, face resting on prayer hands. Percy clapped a hand over her mouth, but LaSalle still heard the giggle that bubbled free.
He grinned back at her, mouthing "busted."
"She's gonna be so embarrassed when she wakes up!"
"Yeah. There goes all her ammo for teasin' us about our sleeping habits. Hey, toss me my jacket?"
She tiptoed away and was back a moment later, pressing the cool leather into his hand. He spread it over the newbie as warily as if she were a poisonous snake that might strike if he moved too quickly. But she didn't stir. Gaining confidence, he rearranged it a little, trying in vain to find a way to fully cover her. Despite her all-but fetal position, his best efforts still left her socked feet exposed. He ran a hand over his mouth and nodded. "I guess that'll have to—"
"Think fast!" Percy's voice hissed across the bullpen and he looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of her wicked grin before his head snapped back and his face was engulfed in denim. He peeled it away and did his best to keep his unimpressed glare from cracking as she threw her arms in the air and shout-whispered, "She scores! The crowd goes wild! Ahhhhh!"
His laughter got the best of him as he shook his head and tucked the jacket over Gregorio's exposed feet. "You're some kinda special, you know that, Percy?"
"Oh, come on. You know you love me."
LaSalle was suddenly very grateful for the desk that concealed his face.
A/N:
Ayyy! My first 5+1 fic! I had so much fun with this one, y'all. Speaking of fun, Fun Fact: Sebastian's "Pretzel Position" may or may not be based on my favorite way to sleep. Oh-sorry, oversharing? My bad.
Props, kudos, and kisses to anyone who caught the shameless VeggieTales reference!
Thank you for reading this, you lovely soul! It means more than you'll ever know. Don't forget to drink your water today! And maybe eat cake. Or grapes. I love you. Jesus loves you. You matter so much. Hang in there.
7723 out.