asphaltcowgrrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2017-07-26 02:24 pm
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2017-07-26 02:24 pm
Entry tags:
A Freckle for Every Soul (Romani Detective Original Fiction)
Title: A Freckle for Every Soul
Fandom: Romani Detective original fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos/James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,272
Summary: The girls ask Zayne the important questions.
Author’s Note: Written for a prompt at comment_fic. The prompt was: (626): Just because I'm sleeping with him doesn't mean I'm in love with him, it means that I want to have sex with someone who isn't a serial killer. The title of this fic comes from a t-shirt I saw on Pinterests and... having a husband who is a ginger, it's become a joke in our house.
“Hey Reyes,” Trish called, sliding into the vacant seat across from the detective. “I’ve got a question.”
Zayne put his pen down and frowned at the woman sitting in his partner’s seat. He liked her well enough, but she had a habit of asking shit that wasn’t any of her business. “I’m kinda busy, Rollins. Is it important?
“Oh, it’s definitely important, Reyes,” Trish’s partner, Hilary, said. She grabbed a chair from an unoccupied desk and wheeled it over to where he sat.
Hil wasn’t like Trish. She had her moments of obnoxiousness, of course she did, but they were much rarer than the redheaded terror’s. “Okay, fine. Shoot.”
“So, we all know you’re sleeping with the narco,” Trish said, looking over her shoulder towards the entrance as if Rosewood was going to appear at the mention of his name. “But are you in loooove with him, too?”
“What?” Reyes rolled his eyes and waved his hands at the women. “Look, just because I’m screwing the guy doesn’t mean I love him, okay? Maybe I just want a little nookie with someone I know isn’t a serial killer.” And working as a homicide detective, he’d run into more than a few that could qualify in that department.
Hilary snorted. “How do you know he’s not a serial killer, Zayne?” She leaned an elbow on the edge of his desk and rested her chin in her hand, waiting. “He’s a redhead like this one, you know.” She pointed at her partner, grinning.
“Why the hell should I be afraid of some pasty ass freckled narco,” Zayne asked, unconcerned. The guy could be intimating, that was for sure, but he wasn’t scary in the least.
“I guess that depends on how many freckles he has,” Trish cackled.
“What on earth does his freckle count have to do with anything?” These girls were nuts.
“Didn’t you know, a ginger has a freckle for every soul he steals.” Hilary stole a glance at Trish before adding, “Or she.”
Zayne rolled his eyes again. He was going to give himself a headache if they didn’t stop soon. “I thought gingers didn’t have souls, you whackjob.”
“We don’t,” Trish teased. “Which is why we have to steal them from unsuspecting cowboys like you.”
She pointed a finger at him, threatening the state of his soul, he supposed. He waved her away with a careless flick of his wrist. They were starting to freak him out a little bit, but he couldn’t let either of them know that. “I’m still not worried.”
“Oh yeah,” Trish laughed. “Why not?”
“Because I have the mystical powers of the Romani protecting me,” he stated.
“Do not bring my people into any trouble you might have gotten yourself into, Zayne,” Andrej said from behind Reyes. Finding the edge of an unused desk, he parked his rear on it since Trish was occupying his chair.
Looking over his shoulder, Zayne made a face at his partner. “How the hell did you get in here without me noticing you?” His desk faced the only entrance into homicide and he’d been waiting for Zek to return from lunch with the narco.
“Same way I did, cowboy,” James Rosewood teased, tugging on a wayward lock of Zayne’s hair. “Waited until the girls had you distracted. Not all that hard to get past you sometimes.”
“Go to hell,” Zayne grumbled. “You soulless demon.”
Rosewood laughed. “I’ve gotten a lot of flak for my hair over the years, but can’t say I’ve ever been called a soulless demon. Not even in northern Utah.”
“Shocking,” Zayne drawled, allowing a little more Texas to escape than usual.
“So, the answer is no,” Trish asks, hinting back at what started the discussion in the first place.
Zayne watched as James found a spot on the empty desk beside Zeklos. It wasn’t a surprise that his partner had hooked up with the redhead, it actually made perfect sense since they were so much alike. But how he’d ever gotten drawn into their relationship – and stayed there – boggled his mind at times. Of all his failed relationships, Zayne was astounded that the one that managed to last the longest was with two men. Go figure.
“Reyes,” Trish prompted.
“What?” He flew out of his reverie and landed solidly back in the present. “Um, well, I guess the answer isn’t so much ‘no’ as it is ‘not yet’. How about that?”
“I’d have to say that’s awfully insightful coming from your dumb mouth,” Trish said, her words lacking any sharp edge.
“Do we want to know what the hell is going on here,” James asked, running a hand through his short, coppery hair.
“No,” Andrej said, shaking his head. “Rule number one is never ask what Zayne, Trish, and Hilary have been discussing in your absence.” He turned his gaze onto the women in question and smiled. “I have learned that the hard way. Over and over.”
Hilary let out a bellow that filled the room. “Ain’t that right,” she chuckled. “He has a bad habit of assuming we’re talking shop when we’re usually talking about our sex lives. Poor Andy got the short end of the stick with us.”
“The other question still remains,” Trish interrupted. “Are you positive he’s not a serial killer?”
“Who,” Andrej asked, forgetting his own first rule.
“Rosewood,” Hilary supplied.
Andrej glanced at the man sitting beside him and shrugged. “You don’t. Not until you discover you didn’t wake up one morning. But by then, it is too late.”
“Can’t argue with that,” James laughed.
“Remind me to lock my bedroom door when he sleeps over, okay?” Zayne rolled his chair back and stood, facing Zeklos and the ginger. “You ready to go visit this witness? I’ve been waiting on you for an hour.”
Shrugging, Andrej slid off the edge of the desk and gave James a wink. “It is payback for all the days I waited for you not only to come back from lunch but to arrive,” he scolded lightly. “But yes, let’s go visit this witness before the day gets any older.”
He followed Andrej out of the homicide division of their station and wondered about something Trish had mentioned earlier. “Hey Zek,” he said, stopping with a hand on the door handle of the car.
“Yes, Zayne,” Andrej said, looking over the car’s roof at Reyes.
“Is the narco freckled like all over?”
Andrej’s cheeks flushed red, or as red as they could get with his caramel colored skin. “He is and you should know this.”
“Yeah, well, I always have other things on my mind when he’s naked. Can’t say I pay much attention to the details.”
“I – I can understand that,” Andrej spluttered, his embarrassment obvious. “Why do you ask?”
He loved it when he could ruffle Zeklos’ generally composed demeanor. And when he blushed like that? Hell yeah. “No real reason,” he said, getting into the car. Waiting until Zeklos had pulled out of the parking spot, he asked, “Ever heard the old idea that a ginger has a freckle for every soul he’s stolen?”
Andrej braked at the red light and looked at his partner. “I had better not catch you counting Jay’s freckles while he’s sleeping.”
“You take the fun out of everything,” Zayne teased, settling back against his seat.
“Only trying to keep from having to investigate my partner’s homicide,” Andrej muttered.
Zayne laughed and repeated what he said earlier. “I’m not afraid of his pasty ass. But I promise, I’ll only count his freckles when he’s awake.” Besides, it had to be so much more fun that way.
Fandom: Romani Detective original fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos/James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,272
Summary: The girls ask Zayne the important questions.
Author’s Note: Written for a prompt at comment_fic. The prompt was: (626): Just because I'm sleeping with him doesn't mean I'm in love with him, it means that I want to have sex with someone who isn't a serial killer. The title of this fic comes from a t-shirt I saw on Pinterests and... having a husband who is a ginger, it's become a joke in our house.
“Hey Reyes,” Trish called, sliding into the vacant seat across from the detective. “I’ve got a question.”
Zayne put his pen down and frowned at the woman sitting in his partner’s seat. He liked her well enough, but she had a habit of asking shit that wasn’t any of her business. “I’m kinda busy, Rollins. Is it important?
“Oh, it’s definitely important, Reyes,” Trish’s partner, Hilary, said. She grabbed a chair from an unoccupied desk and wheeled it over to where he sat.
Hil wasn’t like Trish. She had her moments of obnoxiousness, of course she did, but they were much rarer than the redheaded terror’s. “Okay, fine. Shoot.”
“So, we all know you’re sleeping with the narco,” Trish said, looking over her shoulder towards the entrance as if Rosewood was going to appear at the mention of his name. “But are you in loooove with him, too?”
“What?” Reyes rolled his eyes and waved his hands at the women. “Look, just because I’m screwing the guy doesn’t mean I love him, okay? Maybe I just want a little nookie with someone I know isn’t a serial killer.” And working as a homicide detective, he’d run into more than a few that could qualify in that department.
Hilary snorted. “How do you know he’s not a serial killer, Zayne?” She leaned an elbow on the edge of his desk and rested her chin in her hand, waiting. “He’s a redhead like this one, you know.” She pointed at her partner, grinning.
“Why the hell should I be afraid of some pasty ass freckled narco,” Zayne asked, unconcerned. The guy could be intimating, that was for sure, but he wasn’t scary in the least.
“I guess that depends on how many freckles he has,” Trish cackled.
“What on earth does his freckle count have to do with anything?” These girls were nuts.
“Didn’t you know, a ginger has a freckle for every soul he steals.” Hilary stole a glance at Trish before adding, “Or she.”
Zayne rolled his eyes again. He was going to give himself a headache if they didn’t stop soon. “I thought gingers didn’t have souls, you whackjob.”
“We don’t,” Trish teased. “Which is why we have to steal them from unsuspecting cowboys like you.”
She pointed a finger at him, threatening the state of his soul, he supposed. He waved her away with a careless flick of his wrist. They were starting to freak him out a little bit, but he couldn’t let either of them know that. “I’m still not worried.”
“Oh yeah,” Trish laughed. “Why not?”
“Because I have the mystical powers of the Romani protecting me,” he stated.
“Do not bring my people into any trouble you might have gotten yourself into, Zayne,” Andrej said from behind Reyes. Finding the edge of an unused desk, he parked his rear on it since Trish was occupying his chair.
Looking over his shoulder, Zayne made a face at his partner. “How the hell did you get in here without me noticing you?” His desk faced the only entrance into homicide and he’d been waiting for Zek to return from lunch with the narco.
“Same way I did, cowboy,” James Rosewood teased, tugging on a wayward lock of Zayne’s hair. “Waited until the girls had you distracted. Not all that hard to get past you sometimes.”
“Go to hell,” Zayne grumbled. “You soulless demon.”
Rosewood laughed. “I’ve gotten a lot of flak for my hair over the years, but can’t say I’ve ever been called a soulless demon. Not even in northern Utah.”
“Shocking,” Zayne drawled, allowing a little more Texas to escape than usual.
“So, the answer is no,” Trish asks, hinting back at what started the discussion in the first place.
Zayne watched as James found a spot on the empty desk beside Zeklos. It wasn’t a surprise that his partner had hooked up with the redhead, it actually made perfect sense since they were so much alike. But how he’d ever gotten drawn into their relationship – and stayed there – boggled his mind at times. Of all his failed relationships, Zayne was astounded that the one that managed to last the longest was with two men. Go figure.
“Reyes,” Trish prompted.
“What?” He flew out of his reverie and landed solidly back in the present. “Um, well, I guess the answer isn’t so much ‘no’ as it is ‘not yet’. How about that?”
“I’d have to say that’s awfully insightful coming from your dumb mouth,” Trish said, her words lacking any sharp edge.
“Do we want to know what the hell is going on here,” James asked, running a hand through his short, coppery hair.
“No,” Andrej said, shaking his head. “Rule number one is never ask what Zayne, Trish, and Hilary have been discussing in your absence.” He turned his gaze onto the women in question and smiled. “I have learned that the hard way. Over and over.”
Hilary let out a bellow that filled the room. “Ain’t that right,” she chuckled. “He has a bad habit of assuming we’re talking shop when we’re usually talking about our sex lives. Poor Andy got the short end of the stick with us.”
“The other question still remains,” Trish interrupted. “Are you positive he’s not a serial killer?”
“Who,” Andrej asked, forgetting his own first rule.
“Rosewood,” Hilary supplied.
Andrej glanced at the man sitting beside him and shrugged. “You don’t. Not until you discover you didn’t wake up one morning. But by then, it is too late.”
“Can’t argue with that,” James laughed.
“Remind me to lock my bedroom door when he sleeps over, okay?” Zayne rolled his chair back and stood, facing Zeklos and the ginger. “You ready to go visit this witness? I’ve been waiting on you for an hour.”
Shrugging, Andrej slid off the edge of the desk and gave James a wink. “It is payback for all the days I waited for you not only to come back from lunch but to arrive,” he scolded lightly. “But yes, let’s go visit this witness before the day gets any older.”
He followed Andrej out of the homicide division of their station and wondered about something Trish had mentioned earlier. “Hey Zek,” he said, stopping with a hand on the door handle of the car.
“Yes, Zayne,” Andrej said, looking over the car’s roof at Reyes.
“Is the narco freckled like all over?”
Andrej’s cheeks flushed red, or as red as they could get with his caramel colored skin. “He is and you should know this.”
“Yeah, well, I always have other things on my mind when he’s naked. Can’t say I pay much attention to the details.”
“I – I can understand that,” Andrej spluttered, his embarrassment obvious. “Why do you ask?”
He loved it when he could ruffle Zeklos’ generally composed demeanor. And when he blushed like that? Hell yeah. “No real reason,” he said, getting into the car. Waiting until Zeklos had pulled out of the parking spot, he asked, “Ever heard the old idea that a ginger has a freckle for every soul he’s stolen?”
Andrej braked at the red light and looked at his partner. “I had better not catch you counting Jay’s freckles while he’s sleeping.”
“You take the fun out of everything,” Zayne teased, settling back against his seat.
“Only trying to keep from having to investigate my partner’s homicide,” Andrej muttered.
Zayne laughed and repeated what he said earlier. “I’m not afraid of his pasty ass. But I promise, I’ll only count his freckles when he’s awake.” Besides, it had to be so much more fun that way.