SquidgeWorld Archive

Leland groaned as he rubbed at tired, gritty eyes that refused to focus any longer on his computer. It had been a hell of a case and a hell of a long day, even with Monk's unique brand of assistance. Snorting, he thought, One day, he's going to help me right out of a job.

It was a familiar thought, but one he didn't take too much to heart. After so many years he was, of course, used to being in Monk's deductive shadow. The man was a genius, no doubt about that. Then again, if genius came with that much crazy, Leland was happy to be normal.

"Ready to go, Captain?"

Looking up at Randy's question, Leland nodded and answered, "Definitely. The rest of this can wait until tomorrow."

"Or I could do it for you," Randy offered hastily. "It's probably not stuff you need to do anyhow."

Leland suppressed a smile as he said, "Unless you were promoted to Captain when I wasn't looking, Randy, it is stuff I need to do. But thanks."

Randy nodded. "Sure. Of course."

After turning off his computer, Leland grabbed his briefcase and left the office. Randy fell into step with him and they reached the elevator in sync, as usual, and Leland hit the call button. Glancing at Randy, he asked, "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Ah, no. Not right now," Randy answered, clearly startled. "I mean, I was thinking about watching this martial arts marathon, but then there's one playing at the theater near my apartment and really, it's better to see that kind of movie on the big screen, you know?"

Leland nodded and made an agreeing noise as they stepped onto the elevator. Fortunately, once Randy got going, it was pretty easy to keep the chatter moving with a nod or brief comment. Letting the words wash over him without really paying attention to them, Leland stepped out of the elevator and headed for his car. Randy always parked near him, so the younger man continued to ramble without being aware that Leland wasn't really listening. His internal tape recorder paid attention for him, though, so when Randy paused expectantly, all Leland had to do was mentally back up the tape a few seconds to answer, "Sure. Coffee sounds great."

Which was an asinine answer given his exhaustion, but Leland hated to disappoint Randy. He would get some kind of herbal tea that wouldn't keep him up and set the alarm an hour later. What was the point in being Captain if you couldn't take advantage of the fact now and again?

"Excellent!" Randy exclaimed. "How about the one on Jackson St.?"

It was a crappy little diner, but it was also only about three minutes away from where he lived. Of course, that meant it was a good twenty minutes for Randy to drive home. In compromise, he tossed his briefcase into the car and suggested, "How about the one at the corner?"

"You hate that one," Randy pointed out.

Leland shrugged. "It beats worrying about you falling asleep at the wheel. Come on, Sherlock, let's take a walk. It'll do me good, according to my doctor."

So they walked down the street to the diner he hated. Monk would be horrified at the worn, somewhat battered booths and the peeling tiled floors, and Leland used that to his advantage sometimes. All he had to do was suggest Monk go with him there for something to eat and the other man usually took off like a bat out of hell.

"Evenin' gents," Millie greeted, waving at the empty booths. "Take your pick. I'll bring your usuals?"

I can't believe we have `usuals,' Leland thought, mentally shaking his head. Out loud, he replied, "Sounds good, Millie, only I'll have some of that chamomile crap instead of coffee."

She laughed and nodded, heading for the counter.

Leland picked the booth at the end so he could sit with his back to the wall. It was paranoid, but he'd pissed off enough people with guns over the years that it was a justified paranoia.

"So how long do you think Ruskin'll be in the funny farm?" Randy asked.

Snorting, Leland replied, "A long time, I hope. Sorry you didn't get Brad Pitt."

Randy shrugged. "Nah, that's okay. Besides, I never liked his chin."

Leland smiled and told him, "It is kind of a weak chin. Yours is much better than that."

Brightening visibly at the compliment, Randy prompted, "You think so?"

"Sure I do!" Leland exclaimed. He silently thanked years of police work for being able to keep a straight face as he continued, "You've got classic features. He's just a pretty boy."

By the time Millie arrived with pancakes for Randy and toast with extra butter for Leland, Randy was practically beaming. Before Leland could reach for his extra butter, Randy snagged it and reminded, "High cholesterol. You need to drop like forty points by next month."

Leland grimaced, but didn't argue.

Millie took back the butter with a grin and a wink to Leland as she observed, "He's got you whipped, now, doesn't he?"

Choking a little on his water, fiercely red in the face, Randy managed to get out, "Syrup, please?"

She pounded him on the back a few times before plucking the syrup from the next table, setting it in front of Randy, and ambling away.

Leland was abruptly reminded of how Randy had been cast as a woman and the two of them made into a couple on the set of Monk's movie. Mostly, he remembered how close Randy had been sitting next to him on that sofa. Taking a bite of his toast so he could just observe Randy, Leland took in the flustered expression the younger man was trying to hide as well as the way he wouldn't look anywhere near him. Randy was doing his best to merge with his pancakes, cutting them very slowly.

It wasn't the first time they'd been mistaken for a romantic couple, not by a long shot. For the most part, Leland didn't give it a second thought. Randy was just...Randy. Eager to please. Enthusiastic. Impulsive. Intensely loyal. Not the brightest bulb in the bunch and way, way too young at times to be believed. Taking pity on Randy, he asked, "You get those evaluations done tonight?"

Patently relieved that Leland wasn't going to comment on Millie's comment, Randy finally looked up and exclaimed, "No! I mean, I got partway through, but then Natalie called and I wound up arguing with her for a long time."

"What about?" Leland asked, curious.

Randy flushed again and muttered, "It's personal, Sir."

A little surprised that Natalie was giving Randy the time of day, and not all that happy about it, Leland nodded, prompting, "Whose did you finish?"

The next half-hour was spent talking shop, as often happened when they went anywhere to eat together. The chamomile tea tasted like crap, just like he knew it would, but at least he wouldn't be up all hour. Those days were definitely gone. Pulling out his wallet, Leland took out some bills and left them on the table as Randy stood, then followed suit. He waved at Millie as they left the diner and she winked at him.

Leland snorted in amusement and didn't mention it to Randy as they headed back to the garage. Something else about being at the set kept running through his mind. After the fake Stottlemeyer and Disher made out on the set and he'd managed a stunned, "That never happened," Randy had said, "Not even once," and shifted away from him.

What kept poking at him was the slightly disappointed tone when Randy had spoken.

"So are you and Natalie going out now?"

The words slipped out without him even thinking about it. Cursing his internal censor for choosing that particular moment to go on the fritz, Leland waited for an answer.

Randy glanced sideways at him and questioned, "What makes you ask that?"

Not a `no,' Leland thought sourly. He shrugged as he replied, "Just what you said at the diner. About the two of you arguing for a long time and it being personal. And not that it's any of my business."

They'd reached the garage then and Randy used his card to swipe the magnetic lock while Leland opened the door for him.

Once inside, Randy finally said, "No, we're not going out. It's not like that. Not that she isn't a great girl and sure, any guy'd be lucky to have her but, well, she's just not what I'm looking for."

"What're you looking for?"

This time, Leland mentally kicked his own ass.

Eyebrows raised almost comically, Randy's mouth opened but no sound came out.

Leland cleared his throat and told him gruffly, "Forget I asked."

Walking the last few feet to his car, Leland turned on realizing that Randy had stopped short. Blue eyes were wide enough to indicate that the younger man was truly stunned by the question. A little irritated, he thought, It's not like I never ask him personal things!

Randy finally snapped out of it, literally, with his teeth clicking shut loudly in the silent garage. Joining him slowly, Randy bit his lip and said quietly, uncertainly, "I'm, well, looking for someone older, but you know, not old. Strong. Take charge. Maybe, you know, once in a while someone to look after me. But not all the time, of course. And um, with a mustache."

Leland frowned, puzzled. "You want an older woman with a mustache?"

As soon as the words were out, Leland thought, And people think Randy's the idiot.

"Scratch that," Leland ordered hastily. "It's late and my brain isn't functioning too well right now."

Randy swallowed heavily and nodded. "Right. Of course. I think, you know what? I think someone spiked my pancakes. Yeah, that's exactly what happened. Good night, Sir. I'll see you on Monday."

Leland instinctively knew that if he didn't go after Randy, there would be a resignation on his desk first thing because that was just how insecure the younger man was. Grateful for once that Randy had parked in the garage's blind spot for cameras, Leland strode after him and stopped him from climbing into the car with a hand on the door. Randy's head dropped down and he sighed. "Please, Sir, just let me go home. I really just need to get out of here."

"Randy, look at me."

And even though it was obvious from the flushed face and nervous tapping of fingers on thigh that Randy would rather do anything but that, he turned again and faced Leland. Looking down into those deep blue eyes, Leland knew it wasn't about gay vs. straight. It was just all about Randy. Somehow over the years, the younger man had become as vital to him as breathing. He'd felt gutted when Karen had divorced him; it had seemed like the worst thing that could ever happen. But he'd had Randy and it had been that cheerful determination that nothing would bother `his' Captain at that point in his life that had gotten him through. Not even Monk.

Cupping Randy's chin between his fingers, Leland smiled and observed, "You definitely have the better chin," before leaning in and kissing Randy. It was dry and awkward at first, because Randy just stood there. Just when Leland was going to pull back, though, Randy made a strangled noise and his fingers twisted in Leland's shirt to keep him in place. Encouraged, Leland deepened the kiss and found a suddenly willing participant. Randy's mouth opened on a hitch of breath and soft moan, which sent a thrill through Leland that he hadn't felt in a damn long time.

Before he knew it, he had Randy pressed up against the car and hungrily devoured the younger man's mouth. It was vastly different and yet strangely the same as any other kiss. Not that he'd kissed anyone but Karen in the last couple of decades, but he had a damn good memory. The quick way Randy responded, the glide of tongue against tongue, all of it shivered through Leland until he could hardly breathe.

Of course, the non-stop kissing might've had something to do with it, too.

Leland finally broke off the kiss, knowing that oxygen was unfortunately more necessary. He took in Randy's dazed expression, his still-closed eyes and kiss-swollen lips, with a proprietary sense of satisfaction. Brushing his thumb over Randy's lower lip, he suggested, "How about you come back to my apartment tonight?"

That got Randy's attention and he gaped at Leland before gasping, "Yes! Sure! Definitely. Um, I'll meet you there just as soon as I can move."

Chuckling, Leland stole another kiss before heading to his car whistling a cheerful tune. He might not know what the hell he was doing, but he could think of worse ways to spend the night.

He made a note to call in sick the next day.