ds_flashfiction | "He's lucky, you're lucky, we're all lucky!!!"

the-star-fish.livejournal.com posting in

In the spirit of the Cliche Challenge, I give you 1,072 words.

(ETA: Thanks to KassRachel for good'n'fast beta!)

Ray Gets Lucky

"A gay bar? No freaking way."

The words burst out of Ray's mouth like machine-gun bullets, having the same approximate effect on Lieutenant Welsh's composure. I quelled an urge to back away out of the danger zone and remained at attention beside him.

"Excuse me, Detective?" the lieutenant said, in the deceptively reasonable voice he adopts just before unleashing his special brand of sarcasm. Surely, I thought, Ray had been working with him long enough to recognize it.

"I mean, uh, there most be somebody else better qualified for this assignment," Ray said, backing down perceptibly, thereby confirming my estimation of his intelligence.

"Be that as it may, I've chosen you, Vecchio," Lieutenant Welsh said, "and I'm sure you'll do fine." He smiled benevolently at both of us. I was not reassured by this.

"But, but ... Fraser can't take the time off from important ... stuff ... at the Consulate. Liaison stuff." Ray glanced sideways at me and winked very quickly. "Right, Fraser?"

"Well, I ... that is ..." I stuttered.

"Doesn't matter either way, Vecchio," said Lieutenant Welsh, smiling even more broadly. "You're partnering with Dewey for this."

* * *

Detective Dewey's reaction, from what I understand, was even more extreme. We were unable to witness it, however, as I had exercised the better part of valor and all but dragged Ray from the station, ostensibly to help him 'prepare' for his assignment. After a quick stop at the drugstore for a certain brand of hair product, we drove to Ray's apartment, where he proceeded to ransack his closet ruthlessly, throwing clothes willy-nilly.

He finally emerged from the bedroom and stood before me, tapping his fingers restlessly on his thigh. "Well?" he asked.

I looked at his chosen attire carefully, aware that much depended on my answer. I'd seen all the component pieces before -- the bowling shirt, tank top, and ripped jeans were all favorites of his -- but I had to admit that in combination, they looked quite different. Or perhaps it was something in his attitude. "You look ... fine," I said at last.

"Yeah, but 'fine' or 'fi-i-ine'?" he asked, with a suggestive waggle of his hips.

"The, er, latter," I replied, unable to keep from smiling at his antics. "You seem to be a little more sanguine about this now."

"It's a no-brainer assignment, that's why," he said, sitting down next to me and scratching Dief's neck. "All I got to do is stand around, pretend to drink beer, and watch Dewey get shot down by every guy he tries to pick up." He turned to me and grinned. "Vice collars the bad guy, everybody's happy. It'll be fun."

"Are you so sure he'll get 'shot down' as you put it?"

Ray snorted. "Would you go out with Dewey?"

"No," I answered without hesitation, "not in a million years."

"Trust me, neither will anybody at The Village."

* * *

Despite Ray's protest to Lieutenant Welsh, I had no pressing Consulate business, and was easily able to wangle a place in the surveillance van alongside Detective Huey, whose broken arm had precluded more active participation. He snickered occasionally as we watched Ray's predictions play out exactly. Detective Dewey was indeed unable to 'score,' to use Ray's word, but as he became more and more desperate he provided a perfect distraction for the bartender, whom Vice suspected of trafficking in illegal substances and serving alcohol to minors. We watched as he poured two beers for a pair of very young men without checking their identification.

"Hey," said Detective Huey, "one of those kids goes to school with my nephew."

"We have a go," intoned one of the surveillance team into his microphone. "Repeat, we have a go. Positions, now."

I saw Ray rub his index finger along his nose to acknowledge he'd heard, and then, almost too fast for me to follow the action, the bartender was sprawled facedown and being read his Miranda rights by two members of the Vice squad.

Ray had been told to maintain his cover if his assistance wasn't needed, and he did so with gusto, slugging down half the beer he'd been sipping. I wove though the gawking crowd toward him, intent on a private word.

"Hey," he said when I reached his side. "Buy you a drink?"

"Certainly," I said. "What do you recommend?"

He looked at me mischevously. "I've always been partial to Sex on the Beach."

I fought the smile that threatened and played my part. "Really? I've found that sand can be quite painful when in combination with one's ... private areas."

"You have, huh?" Ray's grin was huge, and I wanted to be alone with him more than I'd ever wanted anything.

"Indeed," I said. I moved closer and said into his ear, "But I'll try it again, if you really think I'd like it."

"Never had any complaints yet," he murmured. "It's a little cold, though. Maybe we could skip the beach part, and just have sex?"

"Sounds like an excellent idea," I said.

Ray finished the last of his beer and thunked the stein down onto the scarred surface of the bar. I followed him as he moved toward the door, pausing as he spoke to Detectives Huey and Dewey in passing. I couldn't hear what he said, but they laughed when Ray did, and Dewey said, "In your dreams, Vecchio," with a shake of his head.

In the parking lot, our breath made clouds before us in October's early chill. "We should take Dief for a good run this weekend," said Ray. "Somewhere outside the city, find some leaves to play in."

I thought that probably Dief would not be the only one playing, but kept that thought to myself. "What did you say to Huey and Dewey?" I asked instead.

Ray snickered. "Just told 'em I got lucky and not to expect me in too early tomorrow."

"Ray!" I yelped.

"Cool it," he replied. "Told you before, the secret to undercover is tell as much of the truth as you can. It confuses everyone."

"But --"

He shook his head. "They'll see what they want to see, which is Kowalski crackin' wise."

We reached the car, parked in a conveniently dark alley, and I placed my hand firmly on his buttock as he unlocked my door. "And if they saw this?" I murmured teasingly into his ear.

He chuckled and turned to face me. "Well, I told them I got lucky," he said, and kissed me.

Current Mood: creative
Current Music: Bo-Sox on the teevee

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dsudis.livejournal.com

Whee! Undercover in a gay bar! This is great, especially when it turns out *not* to be a hooking up story.

Ray snorted. "Would you go out with Dewey?"

"No," I answered without hesitation, "not in a million years."

::giggle::

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"He's lucky, you're lucky, we're all lucky!!!"

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