'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]

"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.