Work Text:
Written for fanfic100 on LJ. Prompt: 056 breakfast
Morning Revelations
By Stacy L.A. Stronach
"Here you are, Captain Deakins," Milly, my waitress this morning at the Blue Plate Diner, says as she puts my breakfast in front of me. Normally, my wife makes me breakfast, but she's off visiting her sister for a week and I'm too lazy to make my own morning meals, so I eat at this cozy little place about a block away from where I work. I often stop in here for lunch or supper, not so often for breakfast.
"Thanks, Milly, it looks great," I tell her with a wink. She's a cute young thing, in her early 20s, with shoulder length brown hair, pretty brown eyes and a figure that won't quit. I may be married but I am certainly not dead.
I've got the paper open on the table in front of me, checking out the sports section as I eat another slice of bacon off my plate, when I hear a familiar voice. I look over at the door and see two of my detectives come in. It was Bobby Goren's voice I'd heard, which had made me look. I fully expected Alex Eames to be behind him, but to my surprise it's Mike Logan. I'm not sure, at first, why I'm surprised.
I put it out of my head as I read about the latest sports scandals and scores. Then it hits me. Logan isn't Goren's partner. Nothing unusual about grabbing a bite with your partner and not that those two haven't worked together before, but they're not partners.
Glancing at them, not wanting either man to notice me, I watch them for a few seconds, careful not to stare; they're both great cops and good at observing. There's something...off in the way they are with each other. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. I divide my attention between the newspaper and my officers. Then, when I glance over a few minutes after they've started their breakfast, I see it. And I realise.
Logan is having toast for breakfast. Goren reaches over, brushes some crumbs from Logan's face, near his mouth and Logan doesn't pull away or lean back. It's such an intimate gesture...I mean, yeah, my wife does stuff like that to me all the time, like I'm a kid and can't keep myself clean. Then it hits meâ€"these two are being intimate with one another, THAT is the difference. It's not obvious, it's little things: wiping crumbs off of a face, holding a look a little longer than normal, hands accidentally brushing. I sink down in my seat, looking away from the two men. Lord, they can't really be...after all, I know Logan's got a rep as a ladies' man and I've seen Bobby with a girlfriend or two.
I do realise that dating women does not exclude them from being involved with one another, of course. I wonder if I'll ever really know for sure. And then I wonder if I really want to know for sure. When I see a covert hand grasp before both men lean back in their respective booths, sipping coffee and sharing the paper, I know. My gut instinct is telling me they are, indeed, a couple. I raise the sports section, blocking them from my view.
I've been reading the same sentence for five minutes now and it's still not making sense. I don't want to be shocked by this; and maybe surprised is a better word than shocked. If they are involved I really hope they keep it to themselves. Not that I don't want them to be happy but because, even in this 21st century, the NYPD isn't the most tolerant of organisations when it comes to homosexuals. Better than what it was when I was a beat cop, but they've got a long way to go. Of course, since I don't know anything for a fact, this is all just speculation. I glance at my detectives again and I know that if they are involved and if it ever does come out (or they do, whichever it may be) I'll do my best to support them.
I'm not looking forward to having to walk by them as I leave, but the layout of the diner offers me no other choice. I briefly considered eating really, really slowly but dismiss the idea. If I finish up and leave before they do, I can be safely in my office, busy with paperwork by the time they arrive. Folding the newspaper, I drop money on the table to cover my bill and the tip before I stand up to leave.
I put on my best poker face as I approach their table. Bobby sees me first. I see surprise in his face before he manages to cover it. "Morning, Bobby, Mike," I say.
Mike looks up at me. "Morning, captain," he replies, smiling at me like it's just another day. I make a note to myself to be very careful if I ever play poker with this man. He's got a good face.
"Good morning," Bobby says glancing quickly at Mike and then at me.
I don't linger, no need to torture them. "See you guys at the office," I say, then laughingly add, "Don't be late!"
As I walk out the door, turning and heading for the office, I look back through the window, catching a glimpse of two dark heads leaning close together. I wonder what they're talking about.... But then, as the sun breaks through the early morning clouds, bathing the buildings in a soft yellowish glow, I decide not to worry about it: the possibilities and the what ifs. There's nothing I can do to change it and worrying won't help, besides, it's much too beautiful a day for that.
**the end**