asphaltcowgrrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2022-01-04 06:41 am
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2022-01-04 06:41 am
Entry tags:
Young and Zealous (Romani Detective Original Fiction)
Title: Young and Zealous
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Zayne Reyes all on his lonesome
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,138
Author’s Notes: Written for both the A to Z Challenge at 1_million_words, letters Y and Z, and the weekend challenge, which was ‘party poppers’.
Summary: Zayne’s stuck working New Year’s Eve and he hates it.
Zayne pushed through the throng of young people, frowning when a twenty-something brunette grabbed onto his arm and leaned in. Her breath reeked of alcohol, and he knew she had to be way over the legal limit. She fixed her big, brown eyes on him and leered. What could have been a seductive smile, had she been sober, curled her lips.
“You’re so handsome,” she slurred, petting his biceps. “Come back to my room with me?”
“Thanks,” he muttered, prying her fingers off his arm. “But no thanks.”
He hated working New Year’s Eve. Back when he was working the beat – and was a hell of a lot younger – it wasn’t so bad. In those days, his zeal for law and order overrode everything else. But now? He was too old for this shit. The thought stopped him in his tracks.
“When the hell did I turn into my father,” he wondered. A smile crossed his face at the thought of his papa. No matter how old that man got, he still knew how to have a good time. That made him feel a tiny bit better.
New Year’s in Vegas was only slightly less insane than it was in New York City, but not by much from what he could tell. Judging by the fact that the department had pulled detectives in to help handle the tourists only cemented his opinion. One of these years, he’d be smart enough to take vacation time from before Christmas until January second. But this year, he was stuck dealing with drunks, idiots, and fools with kazoos and party poppers.
Those popper things were the worst. Someone had pulled the cord on one in his face fifteen minutes ago. He was going to get a lot of shit from Zeklos when he came home with confetti in his hair later. The thought of Zeklos diligently picking each and every piece of paper out of his hair was both amusing and endearing. Only Zek would do that for him.
Running his fingers through his hair, Zayne headed towards a commotion near the back of the bar. Yet another wasted young woman was climbing onto the counter in an attempt to recreate their favorite scene from Coyote Ugly. He shook his head and picked up his pace. Last thing he wanted was for her to take a header into the crowd. Zayne was less than two feet away when he saw her slip, her full drink teetering in her hand.
“Shit,” he growled, throwing himself in her direction.
He caught her as she tipped over sideways, falling off the counter. Her arms flew up, dousing Zayne in a mixture of rum, punch, and god only knew what else. Disgusted, he set her on her feet and wiped an arm across his face. “The hell were you doing up there,” he asked, desperately tying not to lose his cool. The alcohol was burning his eyes, making him crankier than usual.
“Dancing, cutie,” she said, pinching his cheek. “Wanna join me?”
“Don’t touch me,” Zayne said, angry at the world. “Or I’ll arrest you for assaulting an officer.”
It was a stretch, but he’d had his fill of obnoxious drunks for one night. He stuck a finger in his ear and prayed to god he didn’t contract anything from the liquid soaking into his very being.
“Oh please, arrest me,” she said, thrusting her arms out in front of her. “Cuff me, Officer Hottie.”
“That’s detective to you,” he shot back. “And you’re not my type.” Not even close, not now anyway.
“You’re no fun,” she pouted.
“I can be plenty of fun, but not when someone’s thrown a drink in my face after I kept them from cracking their skull on the ground, honey.” He could feel his aggravation rising and knew he had to get away from her before he really put his foot in his mouth. “Excuse me,” he said, brushing past a couple of college kids.
Heading towards the nearest bathroom, he found the first unoccupied sink and started splashing water over his face and neck. It was pointless, he was going to be sticky until he could get somewhere and take a shower, but it helped. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and winced. Dark circles under his eyes, his five o’clock shadow looking more like midnight. In addition to the confetti from earlier, there was also a cherry stem in his hair. Plucking it with a sigh, he could only imagine what the ginger would say about something like that.
“Fuck it,” he announced to the empty restroom. “I’m done.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dialed dispatch. “Reyes here, I’m done. Signing off for the night.”
“Wait,” the gruff male voice said. “You’re scheduled for another four hours. It’s not even midnight yet.”
“Maybe not,” Zayne said, leaning against the sink. “But so far tonight, I’ve broken up seventeen fights, nearly gotten into two myself, been kissed, grabbed, licked, and bitten. I’ve trespassed nineteen drunks, arrested four, slapped one when he wouldn’t stop trying to hump my leg, and most recently, I caught a drunk woman falling off a bar only to get her drink in my face. I’m tired, I’m sweaty, I’m cranky, and I’m sticky, but not in a good way. I’m done.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Reynolds, you still there?”
“Um,” Officer Reynolds hedged. “Should I call Detective Zeklos and warn him you’re on your way home.”
Zayne snorted. “You do that, and I’ll come find you, cherry stems in my hair and all.”
“Right,” Reynolds said, wary of Zayne’s reputation to act first and think later. “Have a good night, detective.”
“That’s what I thought,” Zayne said to no one. He thought briefly about texting Zeklos and letting him know what to expect, then decided against it. “If he loves me like he says he does,” Zayne reasoned out loud. “Then he won’t care that I’m a hot ass mess when I get home, right?”
“Right,” said an elderly woman, coming out of a stall with her cane leading the way.
“Um, ma’am?” Zayne rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “This is the men’s room.”
“Oh, honey, I know that,” she said, winking at him. “Have you seen the line for the ladies?” She gave her head a disgusted shake. “Besides, there’s no chance of me running into a hunk like you in there, is there?”
Zayne let out a bark of laughter. “Gotta admit, you’re the hottest thing I’ve seen all night.” He gave her one of his genuine, hundred watt smiles and wished her a happy new year. The narco wasn’t going to believe any of this, but it was going to be a blast telling him anyway.
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Zayne Reyes all on his lonesome
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,138
Author’s Notes: Written for both the A to Z Challenge at 1_million_words, letters Y and Z, and the weekend challenge, which was ‘party poppers’.
Summary: Zayne’s stuck working New Year’s Eve and he hates it.
Zayne pushed through the throng of young people, frowning when a twenty-something brunette grabbed onto his arm and leaned in. Her breath reeked of alcohol, and he knew she had to be way over the legal limit. She fixed her big, brown eyes on him and leered. What could have been a seductive smile, had she been sober, curled her lips.
“You’re so handsome,” she slurred, petting his biceps. “Come back to my room with me?”
“Thanks,” he muttered, prying her fingers off his arm. “But no thanks.”
He hated working New Year’s Eve. Back when he was working the beat – and was a hell of a lot younger – it wasn’t so bad. In those days, his zeal for law and order overrode everything else. But now? He was too old for this shit. The thought stopped him in his tracks.
“When the hell did I turn into my father,” he wondered. A smile crossed his face at the thought of his papa. No matter how old that man got, he still knew how to have a good time. That made him feel a tiny bit better.
New Year’s in Vegas was only slightly less insane than it was in New York City, but not by much from what he could tell. Judging by the fact that the department had pulled detectives in to help handle the tourists only cemented his opinion. One of these years, he’d be smart enough to take vacation time from before Christmas until January second. But this year, he was stuck dealing with drunks, idiots, and fools with kazoos and party poppers.
Those popper things were the worst. Someone had pulled the cord on one in his face fifteen minutes ago. He was going to get a lot of shit from Zeklos when he came home with confetti in his hair later. The thought of Zeklos diligently picking each and every piece of paper out of his hair was both amusing and endearing. Only Zek would do that for him.
Running his fingers through his hair, Zayne headed towards a commotion near the back of the bar. Yet another wasted young woman was climbing onto the counter in an attempt to recreate their favorite scene from Coyote Ugly. He shook his head and picked up his pace. Last thing he wanted was for her to take a header into the crowd. Zayne was less than two feet away when he saw her slip, her full drink teetering in her hand.
“Shit,” he growled, throwing himself in her direction.
He caught her as she tipped over sideways, falling off the counter. Her arms flew up, dousing Zayne in a mixture of rum, punch, and god only knew what else. Disgusted, he set her on her feet and wiped an arm across his face. “The hell were you doing up there,” he asked, desperately tying not to lose his cool. The alcohol was burning his eyes, making him crankier than usual.
“Dancing, cutie,” she said, pinching his cheek. “Wanna join me?”
“Don’t touch me,” Zayne said, angry at the world. “Or I’ll arrest you for assaulting an officer.”
It was a stretch, but he’d had his fill of obnoxious drunks for one night. He stuck a finger in his ear and prayed to god he didn’t contract anything from the liquid soaking into his very being.
“Oh please, arrest me,” she said, thrusting her arms out in front of her. “Cuff me, Officer Hottie.”
“That’s detective to you,” he shot back. “And you’re not my type.” Not even close, not now anyway.
“You’re no fun,” she pouted.
“I can be plenty of fun, but not when someone’s thrown a drink in my face after I kept them from cracking their skull on the ground, honey.” He could feel his aggravation rising and knew he had to get away from her before he really put his foot in his mouth. “Excuse me,” he said, brushing past a couple of college kids.
Heading towards the nearest bathroom, he found the first unoccupied sink and started splashing water over his face and neck. It was pointless, he was going to be sticky until he could get somewhere and take a shower, but it helped. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and winced. Dark circles under his eyes, his five o’clock shadow looking more like midnight. In addition to the confetti from earlier, there was also a cherry stem in his hair. Plucking it with a sigh, he could only imagine what the ginger would say about something like that.
“Fuck it,” he announced to the empty restroom. “I’m done.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dialed dispatch. “Reyes here, I’m done. Signing off for the night.”
“Wait,” the gruff male voice said. “You’re scheduled for another four hours. It’s not even midnight yet.”
“Maybe not,” Zayne said, leaning against the sink. “But so far tonight, I’ve broken up seventeen fights, nearly gotten into two myself, been kissed, grabbed, licked, and bitten. I’ve trespassed nineteen drunks, arrested four, slapped one when he wouldn’t stop trying to hump my leg, and most recently, I caught a drunk woman falling off a bar only to get her drink in my face. I’m tired, I’m sweaty, I’m cranky, and I’m sticky, but not in a good way. I’m done.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Reynolds, you still there?”
“Um,” Officer Reynolds hedged. “Should I call Detective Zeklos and warn him you’re on your way home.”
Zayne snorted. “You do that, and I’ll come find you, cherry stems in my hair and all.”
“Right,” Reynolds said, wary of Zayne’s reputation to act first and think later. “Have a good night, detective.”
“That’s what I thought,” Zayne said to no one. He thought briefly about texting Zeklos and letting him know what to expect, then decided against it. “If he loves me like he says he does,” Zayne reasoned out loud. “Then he won’t care that I’m a hot ass mess when I get home, right?”
“Right,” said an elderly woman, coming out of a stall with her cane leading the way.
“Um, ma’am?” Zayne rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “This is the men’s room.”
“Oh, honey, I know that,” she said, winking at him. “Have you seen the line for the ladies?” She gave her head a disgusted shake. “Besides, there’s no chance of me running into a hunk like you in there, is there?”
Zayne let out a bark of laughter. “Gotta admit, you’re the hottest thing I’ve seen all night.” He gave her one of his genuine, hundred watt smiles and wished her a happy new year. The narco wasn’t going to believe any of this, but it was going to be a blast telling him anyway.