'TIS THE SEASON (for bigkitty75)

[r_vecchio]

"What part of good will towards all men did you not learn at Sunday school?"

Ray used the round tummy of the snowman he'd cuffed to ram through the precinct doors. The booking desk was crowded ten people deep, a donkey sat in the hallway wearing a pair of flashing antlers and the top of the Christmas tree everyone had spent so long trying to avoid decorating was snapped off, half the fairy light bulbs blown. A man dressed in a giant red and green cracker suit waddled across Ray's vision.

...He'd only been gone an hour.

The perp twisted round as he plodded through the station. "This is a hundred dollar costume, mister, you better be careful. I'm not losing my deposit because some flatfoot decided to clean the doors with my bowl full of jelly!"

When Ray's face twisted in confused disgust, the man sighed theatrically and shaked his hips. "My belly!"

"Finally got a date, huh, Vecchio?"

Ray laughed in fake amusement and kept walking the perp. The place was packed, Christmas really brought out the best in people it seemed. "'Tis the season, Dewser."

Dewey chuckled and slapped Ray's hand in a high five as they passed. Ray frogged-marched the snowman up the stairs and round into the bullpen.

"This isn't no simple dry-clean only, I'll have you know. This is quality merchandise."

"Yeah, I wonder how you paid for that."

"You have no proof I stole that money! I was collecting for sick kids!"

"And pocketing the dough yourself, real smooth." Ray finished.

"I was a sick kid!" He shrugged casually, his white shoulders bunching up at his neck. "Just collecting what I'm owed, that's all."

"Oh, I'd say you're still a little sick, pal," he smirked. With a firm thrust, Ray presented the snowman proudly in the middle of the bullpen and clapped his hands. "Yo, Lieutenant!" He yelled, the perp standing awkwardly on the spot. "I brought you a Christmas present!"

Comments

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

As soon as Ray lands eyes on Gus he heaves a heavy sigh and rolls his head to the heavens. God help him. He trudges into the office, jumping into an explanation before he's even crossed the threshhold.

"Look, sir, wasn't my fault. I had my light on, I clipped him, that's all!" He gestures at the soaking wet dude standing in front of the desk. "I mean, he's still standing, right? That's gotta be better than last time. And I swear, this guy was jay walkin' all over..." His voice trailed off nervously when he caught sight of Welsh's expression, "...the crosswalk..."

He clears his throat and lowers his arms to his sides. "I was chasing a snowman, sir."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

If Ray had been a braver man, he would've pointed out the fact that he did stop, at least to make sure the guy was still breathing. Stopped and managed to catch up with the perp agaiin and cuff his icy little hands. Now that's impressive.

Ray, however, isn't that brave when faced with a Lieutenant who's throwing words at him like "forgo" and "reparation." So he keeps quiet and folds his arms across his chest.

"You know sir, if Mr Guster doesn't want a lift, I wouldn't feel right about forcing him."

"Only too happy," Welsh repeats, enunciating each word slowly at his detective.

Ray scrunches his face up and looks pointedly at Gus. "I just got the interior detailed, sir. Have a heart."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you ran him over."

"Sir-"

"Now would be a very good time to do as I say, detective." Welsh cuts in, reaching over his desk to pick up a file and open it in front of him. He glances back up at Gus. "Detective Vecchio will drop you anywhere you need, Mr Guster," Welsh drones, "and on behalf of the entire Chicago Police Department I'd like to offer my sincerest apologies and assure you this will not be happening again on my watch." He raises his voice so Vecchio is sure to hear outside. "It's more than his jobs worth." With a nod to Gus, he turns to his folder and leaves the rest up to Ray.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"No?" Ray echoes, tossing an idle glance back at his soon-to-be passenger. "Yeah, well, I'm not too thrilled about this either, pal."

He heads out the bullpen towards the mens room before spinning round on his heel and walking back, shooting Gus a tight smile. Making a beeline for Kowalski's desk, he bends down and drags out a gym bag. Unzipping it, he sucks in a breath and holds it but somehow the not-so-fragrant smell still manages to get up his nostrils. With two fingers, he plucks out a towel and waves it triumphantly at Gus before throwing it at him to catch. It'll soak up gunk more than paper towels would and he doesn't think Kowalski will mind that much. It's about time he got a new one anyway.

"Here. You can sit on that." He pauses and fishes out his keys. "Keep your hands and feet off the upholstery and we'll get along just fine. Get a move on, I'm on a deadline." With that, he turns round and pushes the double doors open before walking right on through.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Ugh," Ray lets out a long groan of annoyance and stops walking. He turns round just in time to see Gus's form disappear into the bathroom. This guy has got to be kidding.

"Come on, come on," he stands in the doorway, one arm braced squarly on the frame. "We haven't got all day."

Sooner he's on that plane, the better, in Ray's opinion. He's brought nothing but trouble so far.

"You clean yet?" Ray moves forward a couple of steps and peers over into the sink. "Looks clean to me." Another sigh. Encouraging motions with his hands. "This is Chicago. Being too clean is practically a crime. What, your parents British or something?"

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray sighs loudly again just to make sure Gus gets it. He's bored and he's doing Gus the favour, in his opinion. When the hand dryer whirs into existence, Ray widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest, fingers impatiently drumming along his forearm.

He's idly inspecting the fingernails on his left hand when Gus looks him up and down. He stops rubbing a nail and raises his eyes silently to Gus's. If this guy is trying to deliberately rub him up the wrong way, Ray decides, he'll do his hardest not to let him succeed.

"I can see you're not a man of good taste," he replies evenly, giving his nails one last quick glance before turning on his heel. "I'm leaving in sixty seconds. If you want a ride, you better be in the car in twenty."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray's in the Riv and revving the engine by the time Gus catches up. He leans over the passenger seat and pops the door open, ostensibly to be helpful, considerate even, but to be honest, Ray doesn't really fancy this guy's hands all over his baby, so the less he touches, the happier Ray will be.

"Admire the car and buckle up so we can get goin'," he sniffs, looking over at his...guest. "Going back to Jamaica for Christmas?" If small talk gets him through this easier, then Ray can do the good host thing. He doesn't know what it is, but Gus grates on his nerves something rotten. There's nothing quite like feeling looked down upon to make a guy antsy and anti-social.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Like I couldn't've guessed." Ray's shoulders sag but he keeps a firm grip on the steering wheel. As they peel out of the parking lot behind the station, the back wheels spin and screech until Ray has swung them out onto the main road and lost themselves in the light traffic.

Santa Barbara seems to be the bain of Ray's existence at the moment. Less than a week ago, his suspension had ended; he doesn't want to risk another one because of some new schmuck from the West coast.

"That is so interesting to me," Ray comments detachedly, glancing in the rear view mirror before suddenly swerving across two lanes. Of course, it might be more interesting if Ray had the first clue who Uncle Jack was.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Well, isn't this a small world." Makes sense he'd be related to one of the Duck Boys.

Ray doesn't take much offense to Gus's words, he's heard a lot worse. He shrugs it off with a shoulder but keeps his eyes on the road, firmly away from the passenger seat. "I figured Welsh told you. Named and shamed me sort of thing. And you'll keep your paws off my knobs if you know what's good for you."

He's very tempted to ask just how paranoid a guy Gus is, what with thinking Ray ran him over on purpose and all, but there's enough bad blood in the car already without reminding Gus of how they happened to meet. "So...Huey talks about me a lot, huh?" He smirks, hitting the brakes a little too slow and sailing past a stop sign. "A frequent topic of conversation. He's obsessed. I knew it."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray pays an inordinate amount of time staring out the windshield, even when the car's not moving.

"Yeah, well, Fraser's a top notch guy. A+," he remarks impassively, actually sticking on the signal at the crossroads for once. As soon as his detective skills slide into gear, it's not hard to match Ren to Santa Barbara and come up with the world's most annoying fake psychic. And if Gus knows Shawn, then Ray's day has just become a whole lot worse.

"Turnbull doesn't strike me as the sort of guy to wax lyrical about his superior though. The Queen, yeah. Fraser," he pauses, "not so much."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Hmm."

This conversation's a little too close for comfort in Ray's opinion. Talking about his friends with a complete stranger - being told how to listen to them by a complete stranger - it makes Ray grit his teeth in silence and attempt to ignore any and all words that come out of this man's mouth.

His lips curl back at the long, long line of red tail-lights stretching out ahead of them. The Riv rolls to a stop behind a red Chevrolet SUV and can't go any further; Ray bangs the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. "Whatever you say."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

If Ray were in a motor pool car, he'd get out and walk, just leave it in the middle of the street, maybe call for some blues to come sit in the traffic instead. But even Kowalski, on a bad day, couldn't make Ray abandon his Riv without a seconds thought.

So he sits there, slumped in his seat, feeling awkward in the silence but too stubborn to do anything about it. Instead, winds down a window to get some fresh air and hums a little Beegees under his breath. He drums his fingers, shifts in his seat, takes off his leather gloves, inspects the lining, puts them back on, takes them off again when he decides his hands are too clammy anyway and tosses them in the back.

"...fever, night feeeeveeer...you-" heavy sigh of resignation. "Do it. Tell me what I'm thinking." He rolls his head in Gus's direction. "It's what you cowboys do, right? So do it."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Oh, come on, I'm a cop. I might not be good at the math but I'm good at my job." He raises both forefingers, holds them out in front of him.

"Santa Barbara," he wiggles a finger, "plus Turnbull," he waves the other, "equals Shawn Spencer." And slaps both hands together real hard, making loud explosion noises like a little kid. "Unfortunately."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

In normal company, Ray's not one to cut off his nose to spite his face, but today, he feels the unusual urge to do exactly that. With a warning glance at the radio, passed quickly onto Gus, he sits back, deliberately not touching the knobs to relieve his guest.

It really is the most annoying crap ever to grace the ears of humanity though...

Ray winds up the window to drown out the noise as best he can but it has little effect. His hands are back on the wheel to roll forward a precious few feet before he can do anything more.

"Yeah, well..." Ray mimics, "neither is he." No prizes for guessing who Ray's talking about. Guys like that, he figures, need no introducing. "And that's not what I was thinking."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray sits there, tapping the steering wheel, paying half his attention to Gus and the other half on the car trying to squash up beside them and push in. If he dares to put even one tiny mark on this Riv, Ray would have his head, he swears.

With a disgruntled noise, Ray reaches across Gus, grabs the red light hidden in the compartment and sticks it on the dash, winding down the window again with his other hand.

"Fuhgedabout it, pal!" He yells at the driver, spinning the wheel and swinging the car out in front. "That's exactly it," he tosses back to Gus, "you read my mind. Except the part where I call myself a bastard." The end of his speech is drowned out by the persistent honking of Ray's horn, joining all the other impatient drivers on the street.

"Turn the light on," he motions at the red beacon with a jerk of his head, fixing his eyes back on the traffic to find themselves an opening.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Soon as the beacon starts whirling, Ray slams his palm on the horn and blows it for ten seconds flat. If that hasn't got anybody's attention, then he's completely out of ideas.

"POLICE! Move outta the way!" He pulls his head back through the window and guns the engine, watching as all the other vehicles inch left and right, annoyed motorists yelling obscenities at them and flipping them off. Ah, another day in the city.

No-one is more surprised than Ray when a gap actually opens up but he's not stupid. It'll be there and gone in a second if he doesn't for it right away, so he stamps on the gas and the Riv tears away, tyres bouncing up onto the sidewalk as they squeeze though.

"Wooo," Ray shoots a grin at Gus as all four wheels hit the tarmac again, "don'tcha just love bein' a cop!"

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Yeah but still," Ray shrugs a shoulder as if that makes his point for him and settles back into the uncomfortable silence.

As soon as they're clear of the backlog of traffic, Ray holds the wheel still with one hand and grabs the beacon with the other, trying to keep his eyes on the road and look for the off switch at the same time. With a frown, he sits back up.

"Hey, hold this will ya?" He asks Gus, letting go of the wheel and starting to turn the beacon around in his hands. He can't remember the last time he had to turn this thing on and off himself. Usually, Fraser does it. Or he doesn't bother with it.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray widens his eyes in the rear view mirror at the car Gus near side scraped. "Careful!" He bellows, turning a stern frown on his passenger. "Now would not be a good time to insult me!"

He huffs and switches his attention back to the beacon. Especially not when Ray is doing Gus the favor here.

"Look, just, chill Phil, okay? Ooh, found it." He flicks the switch and the light stops flashing. "Told ya I could do it. Burton, Phil, whatever," he trails off, mumbling under his breath as he tosses Gus the beacon before taking back the wheel.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

At Gus's request, Ray barks out a laugh, takes a breath, then starts laughing again, tossing Gus an amused look before turning back to the road, his laughter dying away slowly.

"Ah, man, that was funny," he wheezes, but his attitude has done a U-turn of its own. He keeps his eyes firmly on the road ahead, settles down, quiet, concentrating, and even starts signalling at the correct moments.

"This was more fun that I thought it'd be," he comments absently, making no move to pull over any time soon.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray slows down but still fails to stop the car. "Y'want I should let you out right here?" He asks on a sigh, signalling out the windshield at all the cars whizzing past them. One starts to honk behind the Riv, edging up closer and closer until Ray begins to make an obscene gesture in the rear view mirror before remembering about Gus. It turns into a polite wave and the car behind squeals round them and roars off again.

"My Lieutenant told me to take you to the airport and like the faithful boy scout I am, that's what I'm doin'." Gus is't getting out of this car unless it's outside a terminal, Ray would make sure of it.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Fine."

Jeez, this guy is more uptight than Fraser when the Dragon Lady is lurking. He doesn't much like jumping to just 'cause some stranger thinks nearly being run over by a cop means he can filch a free ride anywhere he wants but Welsh had used him "I mean it" voice and Ray knows better than to push his luck.

"Onwards," he sighs, tapping the steering wheel as boredom starts to set in. "You going like that?" He gestures with an elbow to Gus's suit. "I'm no waitress in the sky but even I wouldn't let you on lookin' like that."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray rolls his eyes and takes the next exit, swinging the car in the opposite direction and heading over to Huey's place.

"I've beat him at poker over there enough times to know where it is, thanks."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray would've found a way in anyway. He's pretty much been itching to take another look around, ever since Dewey told him about him and Jack. Of course, he's not going to mention that to Gus, he's not that cruel. He's not really expecting to find much of Dewey's stuff lying around either, especially not it this Gus dude is staying with Huey for a while. Too suspicious looking.

When Gus goes in one direction, Ray goes in the other, ostensibly "idly" wandering around, but he's quick to make sure his "wandering" is heading in a bedroom-ly direction. What can he say? He's a cop. He's trained to be curious.