Just a short, sweet little chapter to get us going through Caskett's Second Anniversary (throws confetti) because after this scene, we get to the good stuff *cue Stana's little 'oooh'*
And of course I'm promoting my brand new collab-fic that came out last Monday called 'Armed and Dangerous' found on my profile page or by doing a quick search. Please review it and spread the love.
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Enjoy 3
Beckett sighed as she signed her name on yet another case file. Here she was, thirty-one years old and she was already bored with her job; no, that's a totally lie. She loved her job, she just hated paperwork. Writing it down made everything in life seem menial, like everything was just one pointless task after another; why couldn't she just take down the bad guys and be done with it? She was pulling yet another file from her mountain of post-case boringness when a shadow crept over her desk and blocked the light overhead. She closed her eyes, absorbing her frustration so she could look up expectantly, only have surprised at the sight that met her. A large Hispanic man, toned and tall – though not as tall as he appeared standing over her – with a 'come on, I dare you' expression, just waiting for a challenge. "Yo chica, you Beckett?" There were so many things wrong with that sentence that she couldn't begin to fathom a proper response. Instead, she gently placed the file in her hand on her desk and took a calming breath before shooting from her desk to stand toe-to-toe with him. Unfortunately her kitten heels made her eyes meet his mouth rather than his eyes but she glared at him from her position and ignored the almost laughter in his eyes at her attempt to intimidate him.
"First of all, I am Senior Detective Kate Beckett and you will treat me with respect because, judging by your choice of clothing and over-compensating attitude, it's easy to assume that I am your superior officer and if you have a problem with it you can take it up with Captain Montgomery because I have no time for men like you, Detective Esposito, am I clear?" She'd watched the man's expression turn from 'I dare you' to 'oh shit' in thirty seconds flat and was worth every instant. His broad, thrust out chest had sunk and his chin lowered to meet her eyes but she could see that he wasn't going to break no matter how much she'd got to him – or at least startled him at least – so she took a softer, different approach. "Yes, I read your file Esposito and I know all about you. I know you're an aggressive violent man who'd rather fight than talk a suspect down;" he cringed slightly "but I also know you're fiercely loyal and you'd do anything for your partner." She almost smiled at his miniature burst of pride "which is why I recommended that you be partnered with Detective Ryan, another new transfer." In an instant, the cocky, macho man was back. Puffy is chest and standing just that little bit taller.
"Hey, listen I don't need a new partner – assuming you've read my file Detective – especially not some green little wannabe." They both startled when they heard someone clearing their throat from behind the Hispanic detective and turned to face a young Irishman with rosy cheeks and just an ounce of male posturing, holding a burly man about twice his size in a firm, one-handed grasp.
"Hey Beckett," he called, ignoring the man staring at him "where do you want this slimeball?" He caught Beckett biting her cheek to keep from smiling but he cleared his throat again, cracking his neck once against the silence.
"Just put him in Interrogation One, Ryan." She ordered as the detective purposefully brushed past Esposito knocking him against Beckett's desk on the way to the interrogation rooms in the back. But Esposito was still watching his new partner or more importantly, the suspect he was throwing around. The man was beat to a pulp, his right eye swollen shut, his bottom lip bleeding and dribbling down his chin, and he was favoring his left leg, shying away whenever Detective Ryan did or said anything to him. Alright, so he was moderately impressed. "I'm sorry about your old partner, Esposito," she muttered at his side "but maybe you should give the green little wannabe a shot before jumping to conclusions; he may surprise you." She smirked as he watched the other detective for another moment before making a 'humming sound and walking away from her desk." "Oh an Esposito," she called as he reached the break room "that is the last time you will ever call me 'chica' again; got it?"
He almost smiled that time, as he turned to her "yes ma'am."
Eight o'clock sharp the next morning, Beckett had been there for a few hours but still, she hadn't caught sight of either of her boys – she snorted at how that sounded in her head. She was just about to make a quick phone call to check in on Ryan when the elevator dinged and the duo stepped onto the Homicide floor simultaneously with very opposite expressions. The first thing she noticed was that they were both wearing the same clothes they had been yesterday – although a little wrinkled – and the Hispanic detective was groggy to say the least – practically dead on his feet; his Irish counterpart, however, was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and barely keeping his laughter at his partner bottled up.
She watched pair of them each take a seat at their respective desks, one plopping down roughly, the other sitting lightly down and beginning his work like business as usual. Clearing her throat to hide her laughter, she called to the boys from across the bullpen "what happened to you guys last night?" Esposito's head instantly hit the desk with a thunk and Ryan turned to with a smirk on his face.
"Esposito and I went out last night to celebrate the closing of the Thompson case with a few drinks at a local bar. At the end of the night, the barman offered to let us sleep in the back room." She waited for the punch-line and wasn't disappointed; she was definitely glad that she'd recommended them "it turns out that Detective Esposito finally found someone who could out-drink him."