A writer's challenge about Steve suggesting a recreational activity for Mike.

Hook, Line and Sinker

"The only thing I ever caught when we went fishing was a bad case of poison ivy. No, sir, it's not for me," Inspector Keller protested as he drove his partner home after a long day's work. The next day was a break for them both. Occasionally, they'd find something to do together on their day off, but usually with mixed results.

"Whaddaya mean, not for you? It's exactly what you need – the great outdoors. Fresh air!" barked Lieutenant Mike Stone.

"Fresh air…that's peppered with mosquitos and ticks."

"Ticks are not airborne, wise guy. They don't fly."

"No, but they drop from the trees like the spiders do," Steve flinched at the thought. "And let's talk about the swarm of water snakes that were in the cove last time. There were at least a dozen. Which concentric circle of hell did they come from?"

"It's just a part of the wildlife," Mike defended. "You know, Steve, me thinks you protest too much. The reality is you don't like to fish because you are no good at it. How many times did I see your reel tangled to the point where you had to cast by hand? Huh? How many times did you snag your lure and have to cut your line?"

Sitting at a stop light, Steve glared intently at the older detective and remained silent.

Mike, in turn, dodged the imaginary daggers thrown his way and continued. "Good fishing is an art, my boy; one that all those fancy college textbooks won't teach you."

"Okay, fine," the younger man acknowledged. "I'm a lousy fisherman."

"And a lousy bowler," Mike added.

Steve gasped, but then again conceded, "And I'm not a good bowler."

"No, you're a lousy bowler," Mike affirmed.

"Fine." There was no arguing the point. Steve was embarrassingly clumsy on a bowling alley.

"And I can clean your clock in boxing," Mike added.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter," Steve smirked good-naturedly.

The older cop ignored the response. "And basketball. Thirty years on you, and I can outshoot you with a blindfold on."

Through clinched teeth, Steve suggested, "Then perhaps we can do something tomorrow that I'm good at."

"Like what? Pick up women?"

"You could learn a few things from me," Steve advised matter-of-factly.

"No."

"Tennis?"

"Too much sprinting back and forth; my knees couldn't take it."

"Skiing."

"Too far away and too cold. I don't like the cold."

"Golf."

"A rich man's sport."

Steve pulled the car up to the curb in front of Mike's home. He sighed as he got out, knowing they were no closer to deciding what they would do on their day off. They proceeded to walk up the steps to the front door.

"Okay, no athletics," Steve suggested. "How about spectator sports?"

"Baseball season hasn't started."

"No, but hockey is going full force. The Golden Seals are in town."

"They play in Oakland. Haven't you figured out by now that Oakland teams are lousy?" Mike asked as he challenged his partner. The young man was a well-known fan of the A's, Raiders and Golden Seals. Mike, in contrast, loved the Giants and '49'ers.

"They're lousy too? That must be your word du jour," Steve huffed.

"I'll 'word du jour' you. Besides, my grandmother could beat them and she's been dead twenty years." Mike proclaimed.

"Okay, I give up. I guess we'll agree to disagree and go about our own way," Steve smirked. He felt relieved that at least he wouldn't be subject to the creepies and the crawlies in the woods.

As the pair of detectives entered Mike's home, Steve noticed camping and fishing gear on the sofa. Before he could say anything, he heard a familiar voice from the kitchen.

"Mike," Jeannie called out. "Is that you?"

"It sure is, sweetheart. Are you just about packed?"

"She's home?" Steve asked quietly.

"Spring break was a little early this year. She's home for a week," Mike said as he beamed brightly. "She wanted to go fishing with her old man."

Before Steve could respond, Jeannie walked in from the kitchen with an empty cooler she had been cleaning.

"Hiya, Steve. You're coming with us, aren't you?" Jeannie asked as she reached over to catch a kiss on the cheek from her father's partner.

Mike couldn't hide his grin. Gotcha.

"Well, I don't want to take away any father/daughter time." Steve said as he looked back at Mike. The perfect response.

"Oh, no, Steve. We'd love to have you come along. You're one of the family." She gazed sweetly at him with her crystal blue eyes. Mike was only beginning to appreciate their power on young men and he suspected his partner was not beyond their spell.

Feeling flush, Steve fumbled for an answer. "Well, umm, I'd need to go home and, uh, pack."

"That's perfect! We're not leaving until tomorrow morning. Come over around seven and I'll make breakfast."

Steve was in full blush mode. "Sure, I'll be here." He peered over to his partner but then at the last moment opted not to make eye contact.

"Don't forget the calamine. You never know when you'll run into some poison ivy." Mike reminded him. She's got you, Buddy-boy. She's got you hook, line and sinker.