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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-04
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Sexual Innuendo and the Mating Habits of the Mantis

Summary:

Fandom: Crossing Jordan
Pairing: Preslash
Rating: PG13
Summary: Woody visits Bug at the lab, and double entendres fly.
Archive: Yes
Status: Finished
Sequel/Series: Might be
Disclaimer: I did not create the characters here, I don't own them. I derive no profit from this effort. I mean nothing but respect for the creators, owners, and the actors and actresses who portray them.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Sexual Innuendo and the Mating Habits of the Mantis
by Scribe

 

Bug

I wasn't exactly surprised when Woody showed up. After all, he's a detective, he works homicides, this is the morgue. It's not as if he's really out of place, except in the metaphorical sense. I mean, when you look at Woody you think of sunny fields of corn, open meadows--pastoral crap like that. He's just so wholesome that when he shows up in the crypt you want to do a double take and look for the dimensional rift he just stepped through, because he's so obviously from another reality.

He was smiling, so he probably wasn't there for anything dire. "Hey, Woody. Are we working on one of your cases?"

"Hey, Bug. Just thought I'd drop by."

"Oh." I turned back to my microscope; absently answering what I thought would be his next question. "Jordan took a personal day. She says it's a 24 hour bug, but I think she's probably sitting behind first base right now, sucking down a beer and hot dog, and yelling at the umpire."

"Beer? It's not even eleven yet." I swiveled my head to look at him. "Right--this IS Jordan."

I looked through the lens. "I think Lily is attending a grief counseling seminar."

"Good for her."

I grunted as I adjusted the focus. "Yeah, she's a nice girl."

"If you like that type."

"What type?"

"Girls."

My head went up so fast I heard tendons creak. I looked around at Woody, and he gave me that big, cheesy, Wisconsin grin. For just a second he reminded me of Nigel when he's trying to get a rise out of me. So, that was it. I didn't know whether to feel relieved, or disappointed. I decided that the safest reaction would be no reaction, so I went back to my specimen.

Woody braced his hands on the back of my chair. "What are you working on?"

I flipped a couple of pages in the book I had open on the table and looked from the illustration to the slide. "It's a black gnat. Nasty."

"Can I see?"

"Sure." I started to get up so that he could take my place, but he put his hands on my shoulders and leaned past me, looking into the scope. I cut my eyes sideways, and got close-up. Damn, he's got blue eyes.

"Yeah, I've been munched by these a time or two, usually when I was fly fishing. Think they took it personally?"

"Swarms of flying insects are sort of the anti-thesis of personality, but if they CAN have personalities, they're real shits. This one was found up some guy's nose. That would have been bad enough, but Macy extracted another few dozen from his throat, lungs, and stomach. He's still trying to decide if the poor bastard died of asphyxiation or anaphylactic shock."

"So it's natural causes?"

"After a fashion. There's still the question of why his fishing partner drove him back to Boston instead of running him to the nearest emergency room." I put the fly back in its specimen bag, then in the case. "That reminds me--I need to go by the pet store today and pick up more feed for Dora."

"I didn't know you had a pet, Bug. Dog? Cat?" His smile broadened. "Tarantula?"

"Preying mantis."

"Of course. Say, how can you tell the sex on those?"

"You give them a softball and see if they pitch over or under handed."

"So, are you planning on breeding her?" I looked at him, and he gave me an open, unblinking look in return. It was the sort of question anyone might ask a pet owner, but in this situation... "I mean, if you brought in a stud, it would be kind of hazardous, wouldn't it? Don't they tend to bite the heads off their mates when they finish making whoopee? It's almost enough to make you heterophobic."

"I guess they aren't much for lingering in the afterglow." *That should shut him up. He's blushing.*

"Stupid insects. That's one of the best parts."

*I think I'm having an innuendo volley with Captain Whitebread.* "I don't suppose there's a lot of argument over which position."

"I guess that's where the difference comes in between man and the animal world--when you're doing it for survival of the species, you aren't all that interested in enjoying it, or seeing that your partner enjoys it. Humans have the luxury of picking and choosing--positions, paraphernalia, partners..."

*Son of a bitch. If I keep this up, I'm going to get hard, and then if I have to stand up in front of him I'm going to end up with my ass between my shoulder blades.* "Was there anything you wanted, Woody?" *Oh, damn, that smile!*

"That's a loaded question. Got any plans for lunch?"

I blinked at him. Was he asking me out? "I was thinking about sending out for something."

"Nope. You're coming out with me."

"I am?"

He squeezed my shoulders. "Aren't you?"

I stared at him. He stared back. Funny, I hadn't realized how confident he could seem. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Another near blinding smile. "Cool! I gotta run an errand or two. Meet you here at 13:30?" I nodded. He nodded, and left, whistling. Whistling, for God's sake.

I had just made a lunch date with Woody Hoyt--Midwestern Middle American Hottie. I think I was a little stunned.

*What the fuck am I getting into?*

 

The End

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Scribe.
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