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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: A Place for my Socks to Live
Fandom: Romani Detective original fiction
Pairing: Gen, Andrej Zeklos + Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,288
Summary: When Zeklos is injured apprehending a suspect, Reyes takes it upon himself to take care of his partner… just like always.
Author’s Note: Inspired by the Thursday Trope prompt of: I got you a drawer. Still exploring these two characters, trying to get to know them better. I think this would be fun (and angsty! And UST-y!) to rewrite from Andrej’s POV.
“Is he going to need stitches?” Reyes circled his partner while the medical examiner looked him over.
Carla Mulholland, Clark County Medical Examiner, looked up from her patient’s face and into that of his partner. “Reyes, I would assume so, but I’m not exactly accustomed to working on live bodies these days.” She shook her head in frustration, chocolate eyes flashing with anger. “Why the hell didn’t you take him to the emergency room?”
“He refused,” Zayne stated.
“I hate hospitals,” Andrej added, mumbling against the M. E.’s shoulder.
“You keep getting shot, stabbed, and cracked upside the head, Zeklos, my suggestion is you get used to them.”
She smiled at his return grunt.
“She does have a point, Zek. How is it you are always the one getting the short end of the stick?” Reyes rubbed his jaw and stopped his pacing. The cut above his left eyebrow was still bleeding, albeit a tiny bit slower than before.
“Because you’re always dragging up the rear when I’m in the thick of it?” There was more exhaustion in his voice than anger.
Deciding he didn’t want to explore the accuracy of that accusation, Zayne turned back to the M. E. “Carla, can’t you fix him up?”
Narrowing her eyes at the question, she frowned. “Yes, I can, but do you really want me to? Your living room really isn’t the most sterile work area, Reyes. What if there’s still glass in the wound? Or, better yet, what if he has a concussion?”
“Don’t I just have to keep him awake all night?” He looked at his partner who gave an infinitesimal wince at the idea. “And you flushed his wound like six times. I’m not sure there could be anything left.”
“There’s always that chance,” she stated.
“What are the chances of a concussion,” Zek asked, voice quiet.
“From the looks of it, you were conked pretty hard, so it’s a possibility. Some things to watch for are a fuzzy head, nausea, vomiting, headache, dizziness, irritableness –”
“Shit man, you’ve got a concussion,” Zayne interrupted.
Carla glared at him. “As I was saying, “Irritableness, balance issues, or a change in sleeping habits, go to the doctor. And I don’t mean me. You two understand me?”
“Yes,” Andrej muttered, while Reyes nodded his assent.
“Good. If you have any questions or simply feel off, call me.” She looked between the two men again and sighed. “Does this mean I’m going to have to stitch you up, Zek? Again?”
“Do you mind?” He focused those daunting blue eyes on her, pleading, it seemed.
“One last time,” she said, picking up her kit. “But I don’t have anything to give you for the pain.”
“It’s fine,” he told her. “I wouldn’t take it anyway.”
“Okay.” She cleaned the wound one last time and began to tie his forehead back together.
“So, do I need to keep him up and entertain him or what?” Reyes had begun pacing again, worry for his battered partner making him restless.
“No,” Mulholland said, never looking away from her patient. “He’s coherent and isn’t showing any outward symptoms of a concussion. You might want to think about staying here overnight, however.”
“What?” Andrej’s normally swarthy complexion had paled a bit. “Why?”
Carla shrugged. “If you start feeling ill, or experience pain, it’s best to have someone else drive you to the ER. Having him,” she inclined her head in the general direction of the still-pacing Reyes, “nearby would help.”
Andrej nodded, an uncertain look clouding his handsome face. “If you insist.”
“I do,” she said, standing. “And now, I’m going to go home and get some sleep. You two stay out of trouble.”
“We tried,” Zek stated, rubbing the side of his head where he’d been buffaloed.
“You didn’t try very hard,” she noted.
“Can we help it if trouble knows our name?” Zayne grinned at her and walked with her to the door. “Seriously though, thank you for helping him. He’s a stubborn ass and refuses to go to the ER. Says its wasting tax payer dollars.”
“Bonehead cops.” She shook her head. “Keep an eye on him, please?”
“Will do,” he assured her, closing the door and locking it behind her.
“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Zeklos started the minute he’d returned, “so I’ll just get my jacket and –”
“Oh no you won’t,” Reyes interrupted, pushing his partner back onto the couch. “It’s no trouble so you’re staying right here. Besides, I prepared for this.”
Andrej laughed. “Prepared? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’ve stocked my medicine cabinet with Tylenol, alcohol – rubbing alcohol, that is – and assorted bandages and whatnot. I even have a gift for you.”
Now Zek was really laughing. “A gift? What on earth could you possibly give me?”
Zayne grinned at his surprise. “I’ve got a drawer for you.”
“A what?”
“A drawer. It has a couple t-shirts, a pair of sweats, socks, toothbrush and toothpaste. I was going to get you a pair of jeans, but I had no idea what size your scrawny ass was. So, the sweats will have to do for now.”
Andrej blinked. “Why did you do this?”
Reyes shrugged, uncomfortable with the look of appreciation on his partner’s face. “You seem to be a magnet for sharp objects,” he said. “And every time you get knifed or something, you wind up here. My clothes are always too big on you, so I thought you should have an ‘in case’ drawer. You know, in case your ass winds up bleeding on my couch again.”
“I have to admit,” Zeklos said, drawing the words out. “That was awfully considerate of you. Are you high?”
“Hah,” he snorted. “No. But you’re welcome all the same. You want some aspirin for your head?”
Over the counter pain killers weren’t going to even come close to touching the headache he had brewing, but it might help to dull the throb a bit, maybe. He knew that his partner would undoubtedly decline any heavier duty kind of pain medicine, so it was worth a shot if it helped him sleep.
“I – oh, hell. Yeah, I think I’m going to need some tonight.” He tapped the unhurt side of his head.
“Without a doubt,” he grinned, opening a bottle and handing him a couple white pills. “Let me get you some water.”
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the pills and eventually, a bottle of water too. “And thank you for making me stay. I know that I shouldn’t drive like this, but I didn’t want to assume you’d let me crash either.”
“We’re partners,” Zayne said, sitting on the arm of the couch. “It’s the least I can do considering all you do for me. I just wish I had another bedroom so you didn’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“The couch works for me,” he reassured him. “I’ve slept in less comfortable places. The backseat of your car, for one.”
“And that sounds much kinkier than the truth,” Zayne laughed, seeing a blush rise in Andrej’s cheeks. “Too bad stakeouts weren’t like that, eh?”
“You’re a pig,” Zek teased, kicking his shoes off and settling into his spot on the couch.
“Maybe,” he joked back. “Sleep well.”
“And you, my friend.”
Zayne waited until Andrej had gotten situated, watching his eyelids flutter closed. When he was certain that Zek had fallen asleep, he flicked off the light and went to bed. The morning was going to be interesting – Zeklos with a headache and a bad attitude – but he’d worry about that once the sun came up.
That gave him approximately three hours to plan his own defense.
Pffft. Easy peasy.
Fandom: Romani Detective original fiction
Pairing: Gen, Andrej Zeklos + Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,288
Summary: When Zeklos is injured apprehending a suspect, Reyes takes it upon himself to take care of his partner… just like always.
Author’s Note: Inspired by the Thursday Trope prompt of: I got you a drawer. Still exploring these two characters, trying to get to know them better. I think this would be fun (and angsty! And UST-y!) to rewrite from Andrej’s POV.
“Is he going to need stitches?” Reyes circled his partner while the medical examiner looked him over.
Carla Mulholland, Clark County Medical Examiner, looked up from her patient’s face and into that of his partner. “Reyes, I would assume so, but I’m not exactly accustomed to working on live bodies these days.” She shook her head in frustration, chocolate eyes flashing with anger. “Why the hell didn’t you take him to the emergency room?”
“He refused,” Zayne stated.
“I hate hospitals,” Andrej added, mumbling against the M. E.’s shoulder.
“You keep getting shot, stabbed, and cracked upside the head, Zeklos, my suggestion is you get used to them.”
She smiled at his return grunt.
“She does have a point, Zek. How is it you are always the one getting the short end of the stick?” Reyes rubbed his jaw and stopped his pacing. The cut above his left eyebrow was still bleeding, albeit a tiny bit slower than before.
“Because you’re always dragging up the rear when I’m in the thick of it?” There was more exhaustion in his voice than anger.
Deciding he didn’t want to explore the accuracy of that accusation, Zayne turned back to the M. E. “Carla, can’t you fix him up?”
Narrowing her eyes at the question, she frowned. “Yes, I can, but do you really want me to? Your living room really isn’t the most sterile work area, Reyes. What if there’s still glass in the wound? Or, better yet, what if he has a concussion?”
“Don’t I just have to keep him awake all night?” He looked at his partner who gave an infinitesimal wince at the idea. “And you flushed his wound like six times. I’m not sure there could be anything left.”
“There’s always that chance,” she stated.
“What are the chances of a concussion,” Zek asked, voice quiet.
“From the looks of it, you were conked pretty hard, so it’s a possibility. Some things to watch for are a fuzzy head, nausea, vomiting, headache, dizziness, irritableness –”
“Shit man, you’ve got a concussion,” Zayne interrupted.
Carla glared at him. “As I was saying, “Irritableness, balance issues, or a change in sleeping habits, go to the doctor. And I don’t mean me. You two understand me?”
“Yes,” Andrej muttered, while Reyes nodded his assent.
“Good. If you have any questions or simply feel off, call me.” She looked between the two men again and sighed. “Does this mean I’m going to have to stitch you up, Zek? Again?”
“Do you mind?” He focused those daunting blue eyes on her, pleading, it seemed.
“One last time,” she said, picking up her kit. “But I don’t have anything to give you for the pain.”
“It’s fine,” he told her. “I wouldn’t take it anyway.”
“Okay.” She cleaned the wound one last time and began to tie his forehead back together.
“So, do I need to keep him up and entertain him or what?” Reyes had begun pacing again, worry for his battered partner making him restless.
“No,” Mulholland said, never looking away from her patient. “He’s coherent and isn’t showing any outward symptoms of a concussion. You might want to think about staying here overnight, however.”
“What?” Andrej’s normally swarthy complexion had paled a bit. “Why?”
Carla shrugged. “If you start feeling ill, or experience pain, it’s best to have someone else drive you to the ER. Having him,” she inclined her head in the general direction of the still-pacing Reyes, “nearby would help.”
Andrej nodded, an uncertain look clouding his handsome face. “If you insist.”
“I do,” she said, standing. “And now, I’m going to go home and get some sleep. You two stay out of trouble.”
“We tried,” Zek stated, rubbing the side of his head where he’d been buffaloed.
“You didn’t try very hard,” she noted.
“Can we help it if trouble knows our name?” Zayne grinned at her and walked with her to the door. “Seriously though, thank you for helping him. He’s a stubborn ass and refuses to go to the ER. Says its wasting tax payer dollars.”
“Bonehead cops.” She shook her head. “Keep an eye on him, please?”
“Will do,” he assured her, closing the door and locking it behind her.
“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Zeklos started the minute he’d returned, “so I’ll just get my jacket and –”
“Oh no you won’t,” Reyes interrupted, pushing his partner back onto the couch. “It’s no trouble so you’re staying right here. Besides, I prepared for this.”
Andrej laughed. “Prepared? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’ve stocked my medicine cabinet with Tylenol, alcohol – rubbing alcohol, that is – and assorted bandages and whatnot. I even have a gift for you.”
Now Zek was really laughing. “A gift? What on earth could you possibly give me?”
Zayne grinned at his surprise. “I’ve got a drawer for you.”
“A what?”
“A drawer. It has a couple t-shirts, a pair of sweats, socks, toothbrush and toothpaste. I was going to get you a pair of jeans, but I had no idea what size your scrawny ass was. So, the sweats will have to do for now.”
Andrej blinked. “Why did you do this?”
Reyes shrugged, uncomfortable with the look of appreciation on his partner’s face. “You seem to be a magnet for sharp objects,” he said. “And every time you get knifed or something, you wind up here. My clothes are always too big on you, so I thought you should have an ‘in case’ drawer. You know, in case your ass winds up bleeding on my couch again.”
“I have to admit,” Zeklos said, drawing the words out. “That was awfully considerate of you. Are you high?”
“Hah,” he snorted. “No. But you’re welcome all the same. You want some aspirin for your head?”
Over the counter pain killers weren’t going to even come close to touching the headache he had brewing, but it might help to dull the throb a bit, maybe. He knew that his partner would undoubtedly decline any heavier duty kind of pain medicine, so it was worth a shot if it helped him sleep.
“I – oh, hell. Yeah, I think I’m going to need some tonight.” He tapped the unhurt side of his head.
“Without a doubt,” he grinned, opening a bottle and handing him a couple white pills. “Let me get you some water.”
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the pills and eventually, a bottle of water too. “And thank you for making me stay. I know that I shouldn’t drive like this, but I didn’t want to assume you’d let me crash either.”
“We’re partners,” Zayne said, sitting on the arm of the couch. “It’s the least I can do considering all you do for me. I just wish I had another bedroom so you didn’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“The couch works for me,” he reassured him. “I’ve slept in less comfortable places. The backseat of your car, for one.”
“And that sounds much kinkier than the truth,” Zayne laughed, seeing a blush rise in Andrej’s cheeks. “Too bad stakeouts weren’t like that, eh?”
“You’re a pig,” Zek teased, kicking his shoes off and settling into his spot on the couch.
“Maybe,” he joked back. “Sleep well.”
“And you, my friend.”
Zayne waited until Andrej had gotten situated, watching his eyelids flutter closed. When he was certain that Zek had fallen asleep, he flicked off the light and went to bed. The morning was going to be interesting – Zeklos with a headache and a bad attitude – but he’d worry about that once the sun came up.
That gave him approximately three hours to plan his own defense.
Pffft. Easy peasy.
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no subject
Date: 2015-02-24 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-02-24 04:23 pm (UTC)I honestly think because it shows a level of intimacy between two people. You wouldn't put on a stranger's clothes, would you? But you'd wear your husband's t-shirt without a second thought. :D