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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: That You, Santa?
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,103
Summary: James and Zayne are at the mall when Zayne has an odd encounter.
Author’s Notes: Written for the weekend challenge at 1_million_words. Zayne got chosen to meet Santa, but did he, really? Also, excuse any typos or errors. I want to get this posted before I leave work today. It’s 1:16 PM on the day before Thanksgiving and… proofreading is going to have to wait. Hah. (Be kind and point out my mistakes so I can fix ‘em.) Oh, and there’s also like zero point to this story, so sorry?
“Why are we at the mall, narco,” Zayne whined. “Can’t whatever you’re looking for be found online? Like, yanno, the way normal people shop?”
James glared over his shoulder at his part-time boyfriend. “I swear to god, Reyes,” he said, trying desperately to keep a hold on his fraying temper. “We just got here. Can you shut your trap for five damn minutes?”
Zayne sighed. “Fine, whatever,” he said, giving the redhead a fiery look. “But you owe me Cinnabon.”
“Wasn’t that your childhood nickname,” James teased, causing Zayne to frown. “I’m just yanking your chain, cowboy. If you behave, maybe you can even get your picture taken with Santa.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Zayne muttered.
James shook his head and turned to the left when they hit the main stretch of the mall’s floor. “Come on, the sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner we can get out of here and go somewhere better.”
“Home would be fine, gingerbread,” Zayne said, jogging to catch up to the redheaded missile. “Can you at least tell me where we’re headed?”
“It’s right up here,” James said, pointing towards a brightly lit store. “There was something Jake mentioned wanting. Even though he was passing it off as a joke, I think he was serious.” He looked over his shoulder at Zayne and grinned. “I kinda want to get it for him as a joke, see how he reacts.”
“So, you’re an asshole even to the people you like,” Zayne said, laughing. “That tracks.”
Knowing that Zayne was ribbing him, James flipped him off, playfully. “You coming in with me?”
Zayne came to a halt outside the shop. He glanced inside and it didn’t take long to discover that it was one of those nerdy places, the kind that sold action figures, obnoxiously large stuffed animals, and other fandom related stuff. He’d gone into a place like this on a date once and he’d never felt so confused in his entire life.
“Nah, man, I think I’ll stay out here,” he said. “Not sure I want to know what Hansen would be interested in having from a place like this, but…” He shrugged. “Have at it.”
James gave a single nod before heading into the store. Sighing, Zayne looked at the items on display in the window, frowning. A large plush cactus wearing a Santa hat caught his attention first. It was cute and looked very squishable, he thought. There were also SpongeBob and Patrick socks, which made him smile. They’d be a great gag gift for the narco. Even better because James would wear them out of spite.
The things that really made him wonder if he was getting old were all the figurines. Some, he could parse. There were Disney characters, a few from famous movies, but the rest? Well, all he could say was that they were anime of some kind. And that shit was weird, even for him.
Zayne scratched the back of his neck and looked around him, wondering if there was anything less… bizarre… to occupy his time until the narco was done pranking his partner. His eyes landed on the pretzel stand and he grinned.
“Oh, now that sounds good,” he said. Zayne glanced back into the store and didn’t see the redhead anywhere near the register, so he sprinted off to grab a pretzel, some cheese dip, and possibly a lemonade.
As he approached the kiosk, he dug his wallet out and flipped it open. Rummaging through his sparse amount of cash, he looked down long enough to fish out a ten dollar bill.
“Ah, I knew I had some cash on me, it’s about – oof.”
Steadying himself, he looked around, prepared to apologize to whomever he’d just attempted to barrel through.
“Are you okay, son,” a deep voice asked.
Zayne’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, blinking when he saw where the voice was coming from. “No,” he muttered, blinking again, trying to clear his vision. But nothing changed.
The figure before him was decked out in red corduroy pants, a white dress shirt, forest green tie, and a matching red corduroy jacket. His hair was long, white and wavy, his eyes bright blue and were they twinkling? Shit, yes they were.
“Did I hit my head somehow without falling,” Zayne muttered, eliciting a raucous bit of laughter out of the man before him.
“No,” the man said, “you didn’t hit your head.” He leaned in closer to Zayne and smiled. “Your eyes are not deceiving you.”
Frowning, Zayne studied the guy for a moment. There was one thought running through his head at breakneck speed, but he didn’t have a clue how to phrase it in a way that wasn’t going to offend this seemingly nice dude. What the hell, he thought, better to just get it out. He could apologize later.
“Why are you out here in the mall, dressed like Santa?” He pressed his lips together, hard, and then added a quick, “sir to the end of his question.
The man let loose with another belly laugh. “Why do you think I am?”
Yeah, his eyes were for sure twinkling, Zayne thought. “But you’re way too skinny to be Santa,” he said. “I mean, for real man, you need a steak and possibly some of my partner’s cheesecake if you want to be in the running for Santa.”
Why he’d brought up Zeklos’ cheesecake, he wasn’t sure, but it was out there now.
“Your partner makes excellent cookies,” he said. “Those will do. Especially if he makes the chocolate ones coated in powdered sugar. They’re my favorite.”
Zayne’s eyebrows drew together. How the hell did this dude know about Zek’s chocolate crinkles? Heck, he’d never eve had them himself until he and Zek had started dating.
“Don’t trouble yourself with questions you cannot answer,” the Santa wannabe said, winking. “If you’re unhurt, then go on and get your pretzel.” He started to turn and leave, hesitated, and turned back. “And get the cherry lemonade, I know it’s your favorite.”
“I – uh, how do you –”
But the man just smiled.
“God damnit, Reyes,” he heard James yell from behind him. “Where the hell did you get to?”
He turned, spotted James, and waved. “Right here, narco.”
James made his way over to Zayne, glowering. “Couldn’t stay in one place for a minute, could you?”
“Sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I came over to get us some pretzels and maybe a lemonade, but I walked into this guy and –” Zayne pointed in the direction of the old, Santa lookalike and frowned. “He was just here.”
The scowl dropped from James’ face. “Look, cowboy, I know you and I know you like to eat. You don’t have to make up stories. If you wanted a pretzel, you should get one. I was just mad you weren’t where I left you.”
“He really was here,” Zayne protested feebly. “He was in a red corduroy suit with a fantastic green tie. I don’t know where he went.”
Smiling, James gave Zayne’s arm a squeeze. “It’s fine, Reyes. But the more important question is, would you rather have a pretzel or Cinnabon?”
“You mean I can’t have both,” he teased.
James gave him a playful shove. “How about this, there’s a restaurant at the far end of the mall. It’s a British pub of sorts and they have some awesome burgers as well as these giant ass Bavarian pretzels. How does that sound?”
“Do these giant ass pretzels come with cheese sauce,” Zayne asked, warming to the idea.
“Cheese sauce, stone ground mustard sauce, and a garlic herb one, too,” James said, grinning broader.
“Oh, hell yes, let’s go,” Zayne said, slipping his arm through James’. He knew the narco might protest, but he didn’t care.
“Okay,” James agreed. “I swear to god, you’re nothing but a walking stomach.”
“Can’t lie, I’ve been called worse,” Zayne said, leaning into James for a brief moment. “Hey, did you get that thing you wanted for Hansen?”
“I did,” James said, holding the shopping bag open for Zayne to see.
“What’s that?” He leaned as close as he could to the bag without toppling into James. “I know what Funko Pops are, but what the hell is a Jungkook?”
Snorting, James closed the bag and directed Zayne towards the restaurant. “Ever heard of a K-pop band called BTS?”
“Um,” Zayne’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Maybe?”
“He’s one of the members.”
“And Hansen likes them,” Zayne asked. “I’m not sure if I believe that or not.”
“I don’t know if he does or not,” James admitted, “but he’s brought them up enough lately for me to think that he might. Either that or Maxwell does.”
The stopped outside of the restaurant and waited for the hostess to return. Zayne pulled out his phone and googled Jungkoook. “Hmm, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hil was into the dude. Can’t speak on his music, but he is rather pretty.”
James leaned over to get a better look. “He’s not half as pretty as you are, cowboy.”
He wasn’t sure why, but he could feel a blush rising at the redhead’s compliment. “Well,” he said, clearing the embarrassment from his throat, “I appreciate that. He’s not exactly my type either, but I can acknowledge the pretty when I see the pretty.”
This caused James to splutter with laughter. “I’m pretty sure we’re all fucking aware of how attuned to the pretty you are,” he said. Seeing the hostess approach, he schooled his face into something a little less manic. “Two please,” he said. “Wait, three.” He looked at Zayne and said, “Call Andy, have him meet us here.”
“On it,” Zayne said, closing out the browser on his phone and calling Zeklos as they followed the waitress to their table.
The waitress had just dropped off their drinks – two beers and a cup of coffee – when Zeklos arrived, a tall, thin man in a red suit following him. “Sorry I am late,” he said, sliding into the booth beside Zayne, “but I started chatting with this gentleman. He says he knows one of you.”
Zayne’s mouth gaped open for a second before he found his voice. “That would be me. Why’d you disappear on me?”
“Why didn’t you get your pretzel and lemonade,” he countered.
“I was given a better offer,” Zayne said, holding his hands out, palms up, to indicate the table and people around him.
“So, I see,” he said. “Happy to see you’re being well fed. I will leave you all to your lunch.”
“Wait,” Zayne said, but the man simply waved and walked away.
“Who on earth,” James began.
“He approached me outside of the restaurant,” Zeklos said. “I had gotten a text, so I stopped to check it, in case it was from one of you, and he approached me, asking about Zayne.” He shook his head. “It was very odd.”
“I walked into him trying to get a pretzel,” Zayne said. “I swear he wasn’t in front of me when I looked down. And I only had my eyes on my wallet for a second.”
“Maybe he really was Santa,” James offered. “Hinting at you to pay more attention to your surroundings. I mean, you’re a damn police detective, Reyes. You know better.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Zayne muttered. “Whatever.”
“Leave him alone,” Andrej scolded mildly. “He’s generally very observant.” He cut his eyes towards Zayne, who was watching one of the other waitresses move through the restaurant. “Sometimes, he’s too observant.”
Realizing he’d been caught, he focused on the plate before him. “Sorry.”
“Some things never change,” James said with a laugh. “Come on, let’s figure out what we want to eat before pretzel-zilla arrives.”
Zayne already knew what he wanted, he’d seen it on the sandwich board under specials before they’d entered. He closed his menu and set it down while the others made their choices. He couldn’t get the old man out of his head though. Intellectually, he knew that the guy couldn’t possibly be Santa, but he’d be damned if the guy wasn’t convincing in the role.
“Earth to Reyes,” James singsonged, snapping his fingers lightly. “You in there, cowboy?”
“I’m here, gingerbread,” he said, hating that he’d been caught daydreaming. His eyes got wide as the waitress approached. “And so is our pretzel.”
It was enough to distract them for the moment, but Zayne was sure that the man in red would creep back into his thoughts eventually. He was a mystery for later when his stomach was full.
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,103
Summary: James and Zayne are at the mall when Zayne has an odd encounter.
Author’s Notes: Written for the weekend challenge at 1_million_words. Zayne got chosen to meet Santa, but did he, really? Also, excuse any typos or errors. I want to get this posted before I leave work today. It’s 1:16 PM on the day before Thanksgiving and… proofreading is going to have to wait. Hah. (Be kind and point out my mistakes so I can fix ‘em.) Oh, and there’s also like zero point to this story, so sorry?
“Why are we at the mall, narco,” Zayne whined. “Can’t whatever you’re looking for be found online? Like, yanno, the way normal people shop?”
James glared over his shoulder at his part-time boyfriend. “I swear to god, Reyes,” he said, trying desperately to keep a hold on his fraying temper. “We just got here. Can you shut your trap for five damn minutes?”
Zayne sighed. “Fine, whatever,” he said, giving the redhead a fiery look. “But you owe me Cinnabon.”
“Wasn’t that your childhood nickname,” James teased, causing Zayne to frown. “I’m just yanking your chain, cowboy. If you behave, maybe you can even get your picture taken with Santa.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Zayne muttered.
James shook his head and turned to the left when they hit the main stretch of the mall’s floor. “Come on, the sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner we can get out of here and go somewhere better.”
“Home would be fine, gingerbread,” Zayne said, jogging to catch up to the redheaded missile. “Can you at least tell me where we’re headed?”
“It’s right up here,” James said, pointing towards a brightly lit store. “There was something Jake mentioned wanting. Even though he was passing it off as a joke, I think he was serious.” He looked over his shoulder at Zayne and grinned. “I kinda want to get it for him as a joke, see how he reacts.”
“So, you’re an asshole even to the people you like,” Zayne said, laughing. “That tracks.”
Knowing that Zayne was ribbing him, James flipped him off, playfully. “You coming in with me?”
Zayne came to a halt outside the shop. He glanced inside and it didn’t take long to discover that it was one of those nerdy places, the kind that sold action figures, obnoxiously large stuffed animals, and other fandom related stuff. He’d gone into a place like this on a date once and he’d never felt so confused in his entire life.
“Nah, man, I think I’ll stay out here,” he said. “Not sure I want to know what Hansen would be interested in having from a place like this, but…” He shrugged. “Have at it.”
James gave a single nod before heading into the store. Sighing, Zayne looked at the items on display in the window, frowning. A large plush cactus wearing a Santa hat caught his attention first. It was cute and looked very squishable, he thought. There were also SpongeBob and Patrick socks, which made him smile. They’d be a great gag gift for the narco. Even better because James would wear them out of spite.
The things that really made him wonder if he was getting old were all the figurines. Some, he could parse. There were Disney characters, a few from famous movies, but the rest? Well, all he could say was that they were anime of some kind. And that shit was weird, even for him.
Zayne scratched the back of his neck and looked around him, wondering if there was anything less… bizarre… to occupy his time until the narco was done pranking his partner. His eyes landed on the pretzel stand and he grinned.
“Oh, now that sounds good,” he said. Zayne glanced back into the store and didn’t see the redhead anywhere near the register, so he sprinted off to grab a pretzel, some cheese dip, and possibly a lemonade.
As he approached the kiosk, he dug his wallet out and flipped it open. Rummaging through his sparse amount of cash, he looked down long enough to fish out a ten dollar bill.
“Ah, I knew I had some cash on me, it’s about – oof.”
Steadying himself, he looked around, prepared to apologize to whomever he’d just attempted to barrel through.
“Are you okay, son,” a deep voice asked.
Zayne’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, blinking when he saw where the voice was coming from. “No,” he muttered, blinking again, trying to clear his vision. But nothing changed.
The figure before him was decked out in red corduroy pants, a white dress shirt, forest green tie, and a matching red corduroy jacket. His hair was long, white and wavy, his eyes bright blue and were they twinkling? Shit, yes they were.
“Did I hit my head somehow without falling,” Zayne muttered, eliciting a raucous bit of laughter out of the man before him.
“No,” the man said, “you didn’t hit your head.” He leaned in closer to Zayne and smiled. “Your eyes are not deceiving you.”
Frowning, Zayne studied the guy for a moment. There was one thought running through his head at breakneck speed, but he didn’t have a clue how to phrase it in a way that wasn’t going to offend this seemingly nice dude. What the hell, he thought, better to just get it out. He could apologize later.
“Why are you out here in the mall, dressed like Santa?” He pressed his lips together, hard, and then added a quick, “sir to the end of his question.
The man let loose with another belly laugh. “Why do you think I am?”
Yeah, his eyes were for sure twinkling, Zayne thought. “But you’re way too skinny to be Santa,” he said. “I mean, for real man, you need a steak and possibly some of my partner’s cheesecake if you want to be in the running for Santa.”
Why he’d brought up Zeklos’ cheesecake, he wasn’t sure, but it was out there now.
“Your partner makes excellent cookies,” he said. “Those will do. Especially if he makes the chocolate ones coated in powdered sugar. They’re my favorite.”
Zayne’s eyebrows drew together. How the hell did this dude know about Zek’s chocolate crinkles? Heck, he’d never eve had them himself until he and Zek had started dating.
“Don’t trouble yourself with questions you cannot answer,” the Santa wannabe said, winking. “If you’re unhurt, then go on and get your pretzel.” He started to turn and leave, hesitated, and turned back. “And get the cherry lemonade, I know it’s your favorite.”
“I – uh, how do you –”
But the man just smiled.
“God damnit, Reyes,” he heard James yell from behind him. “Where the hell did you get to?”
He turned, spotted James, and waved. “Right here, narco.”
James made his way over to Zayne, glowering. “Couldn’t stay in one place for a minute, could you?”
“Sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I came over to get us some pretzels and maybe a lemonade, but I walked into this guy and –” Zayne pointed in the direction of the old, Santa lookalike and frowned. “He was just here.”
The scowl dropped from James’ face. “Look, cowboy, I know you and I know you like to eat. You don’t have to make up stories. If you wanted a pretzel, you should get one. I was just mad you weren’t where I left you.”
“He really was here,” Zayne protested feebly. “He was in a red corduroy suit with a fantastic green tie. I don’t know where he went.”
Smiling, James gave Zayne’s arm a squeeze. “It’s fine, Reyes. But the more important question is, would you rather have a pretzel or Cinnabon?”
“You mean I can’t have both,” he teased.
James gave him a playful shove. “How about this, there’s a restaurant at the far end of the mall. It’s a British pub of sorts and they have some awesome burgers as well as these giant ass Bavarian pretzels. How does that sound?”
“Do these giant ass pretzels come with cheese sauce,” Zayne asked, warming to the idea.
“Cheese sauce, stone ground mustard sauce, and a garlic herb one, too,” James said, grinning broader.
“Oh, hell yes, let’s go,” Zayne said, slipping his arm through James’. He knew the narco might protest, but he didn’t care.
“Okay,” James agreed. “I swear to god, you’re nothing but a walking stomach.”
“Can’t lie, I’ve been called worse,” Zayne said, leaning into James for a brief moment. “Hey, did you get that thing you wanted for Hansen?”
“I did,” James said, holding the shopping bag open for Zayne to see.
“What’s that?” He leaned as close as he could to the bag without toppling into James. “I know what Funko Pops are, but what the hell is a Jungkook?”
Snorting, James closed the bag and directed Zayne towards the restaurant. “Ever heard of a K-pop band called BTS?”
“Um,” Zayne’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Maybe?”
“He’s one of the members.”
“And Hansen likes them,” Zayne asked. “I’m not sure if I believe that or not.”
“I don’t know if he does or not,” James admitted, “but he’s brought them up enough lately for me to think that he might. Either that or Maxwell does.”
The stopped outside of the restaurant and waited for the hostess to return. Zayne pulled out his phone and googled Jungkoook. “Hmm, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hil was into the dude. Can’t speak on his music, but he is rather pretty.”
James leaned over to get a better look. “He’s not half as pretty as you are, cowboy.”
He wasn’t sure why, but he could feel a blush rising at the redhead’s compliment. “Well,” he said, clearing the embarrassment from his throat, “I appreciate that. He’s not exactly my type either, but I can acknowledge the pretty when I see the pretty.”
This caused James to splutter with laughter. “I’m pretty sure we’re all fucking aware of how attuned to the pretty you are,” he said. Seeing the hostess approach, he schooled his face into something a little less manic. “Two please,” he said. “Wait, three.” He looked at Zayne and said, “Call Andy, have him meet us here.”
“On it,” Zayne said, closing out the browser on his phone and calling Zeklos as they followed the waitress to their table.
The waitress had just dropped off their drinks – two beers and a cup of coffee – when Zeklos arrived, a tall, thin man in a red suit following him. “Sorry I am late,” he said, sliding into the booth beside Zayne, “but I started chatting with this gentleman. He says he knows one of you.”
Zayne’s mouth gaped open for a second before he found his voice. “That would be me. Why’d you disappear on me?”
“Why didn’t you get your pretzel and lemonade,” he countered.
“I was given a better offer,” Zayne said, holding his hands out, palms up, to indicate the table and people around him.
“So, I see,” he said. “Happy to see you’re being well fed. I will leave you all to your lunch.”
“Wait,” Zayne said, but the man simply waved and walked away.
“Who on earth,” James began.
“He approached me outside of the restaurant,” Zeklos said. “I had gotten a text, so I stopped to check it, in case it was from one of you, and he approached me, asking about Zayne.” He shook his head. “It was very odd.”
“I walked into him trying to get a pretzel,” Zayne said. “I swear he wasn’t in front of me when I looked down. And I only had my eyes on my wallet for a second.”
“Maybe he really was Santa,” James offered. “Hinting at you to pay more attention to your surroundings. I mean, you’re a damn police detective, Reyes. You know better.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Zayne muttered. “Whatever.”
“Leave him alone,” Andrej scolded mildly. “He’s generally very observant.” He cut his eyes towards Zayne, who was watching one of the other waitresses move through the restaurant. “Sometimes, he’s too observant.”
Realizing he’d been caught, he focused on the plate before him. “Sorry.”
“Some things never change,” James said with a laugh. “Come on, let’s figure out what we want to eat before pretzel-zilla arrives.”
Zayne already knew what he wanted, he’d seen it on the sandwich board under specials before they’d entered. He closed his menu and set it down while the others made their choices. He couldn’t get the old man out of his head though. Intellectually, he knew that the guy couldn’t possibly be Santa, but he’d be damned if the guy wasn’t convincing in the role.
“Earth to Reyes,” James singsonged, snapping his fingers lightly. “You in there, cowboy?”
“I’m here, gingerbread,” he said, hating that he’d been caught daydreaming. His eyes got wide as the waitress approached. “And so is our pretzel.”
It was enough to distract them for the moment, but Zayne was sure that the man in red would creep back into his thoughts eventually. He was a mystery for later when his stomach was full.
