ds_flashfiction | Dreams Challenge by Shoemaster

shoemaster.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Unexpected
Author:

shoemaster/Allison
Rating: PG, some swearing
Word Count: 683
Summary: Dreams, nightmares... it's all relative. Post-CotW, Ray and Fraser come back to Chicago.
Notes: A great big thank you kindly to

monroe_nell and

lozenger8 for the beta, they did the best they could :D And

shihadchick complaining about the dearth of Stanley Smith fic in fandom. ...oh, this is my first non-badfic flashfiction entry.

”You go away for five months, you come back and things’ve changed. That’s what happens.”

Some of the changes were good, like Cubs actually having a shot at the wild card, if not the division (fucking Astros). Some of the changes were fanfuckingtastic, namely getting laid regularly by Ben. Others were kind of weird, like Frannie and her “miracle” pregnancy. But overall, things were going good, Stella and the Style Pig weren’t hanging around to make things awkward for him and Fraser, he got to keep his desk at the 27th and life was greatness.

Of course, some things hadn’t changed, will never change; especially for a Chicago flatfoot. People were still committing crimes, and still dumb as fuck, especially college students that OD in their fancy dorm rooms.

“Dumb ass kids,” Ray muttered under his breath.

“Now Ray, all young adults are forced to make choices, good or bad, right or wrong. It doesn’t make them dumb.”

“Heroin, Frase? You call that a good choice?”

“Well, no, not as such.”

Ray snorted as he made his way through the crowd of college students loitering in the hallway, a mixture of shock, sadness and a thirst for gossip on all their faces. He hates working cases like this. Technically, the university isn’t in their jurisdiction but with the way their week has been going, this kid’s overdose was going to be connected to the five other deaths they’ve been investigating. He could feel it.

God dammit.

The icing on the fucking cake is the obvious rookie guarding the door to the victim’s suite. Another month and he won’t be looking as excited about securing the crime scene, but now he’s grinning like an idiot, all those teeth reflecting off of his shiny black shoes.

Damn, he wasn’t ever that young, was he?

“Detective Ray!” the rookie said with a wide grin, “How’s it been hanging man?”

Ray eyed him suspiciously, “You know me?”

“Yeah! I can’t believe you forgot about that case we worked.” Rookie sounded kind of bummed but smiled again when he saw Ben, which wasn’t exactly what Ray would call an uncommon reaction. “Fra-sier! Way to stick with the magic hat.”

“You’re looking well yourself, Officer Smith.”

Ray stared between Ben and Smith. “We know him?”

“Certainly, Ray, you do remember the, ah, incident with Guy Rankin?”

“Body in a wall. Shellacked. How could I forget?”

“Oh man, that thing smelled.”

Ray turned back to the officer, finally making the connection. “Stanley Smith. How did you become a cop, you stole a Mercedes, and last time I checked they don’t let two-bit hoods into the Academy.”

“I didn’t have a record see, remember, you dropped the charges, and then my man Fra-sier here wrote me a recommendation—”

“Fraser.”

“I meant to tell you, but things got so very busy what with Warfield, and then Maggie, and well, Muldoon…” Ben rubbed his eyebrow.

“—it was like a dream come true, you know. Now I get to be on the other side of the bars forever, not like those guys from high school.”

Ray leaned over to Ben and whispered, “This is a nightmare, right? I’m going to wake up and we’re going to be back on the tundra. I’m dying of hyperthermia.”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“You guys should come down to the thirteenth some time, when it’s not so busy. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee, we can trade cop stories.”

Yeah, Ray bet he had a bunch of real interesting stories about guarding the door while the real cops did their jobs, but he didn’t say that. Obviously Ben’d been some kind of mellowing influence.

“Why certainly, Officer Smith, but at the moment I’m afraid we need to continue to the crime scene.”

“Right, sorry. Still kind of new at this,” Stanley shrugged, but grinned.

“It happens, kid.”

Yeah, you go away, and things have changed, always do; but the L still runs, pedestrians still think they own the roads, and crazy kids like Stanley Smith somehow manage to become responsible for protecting the streets.

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: George Thorogood & The Destroyers- I'll Change My Style