|Taking Back the Trophy
Author: reluctant-reporter PM
Casey Shraeger never ceased to surprise him.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Friendship/Humor - J. Walsh & Casey Shraeger - Words: 1,445 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 27 - Follows: 1 - Published: 04-24-10 - Status: Complete - id: 5922054
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Just watched "One Man Band" on Youtube and couldn't resist putting my two cents in on how I think Casey got the eating contest trophy back. CaRiNeSs, your trophy story rocks! And as for the disclaimer, I don't own anything or this show would still be on.---
Casey Shraeger never ceased to surprise him. It wasn't that he was complaining because, honestly, it was one of the things he really liked about her. Just when he thought he could predict what she'd do or say, boom, she'd zig instead of zag. It kept him on his toes. The best thing, though, was that she was a real live good person and he knew that he could count on her no matter what kind of crazy situation she got herself and him by association into. So, to say Jason Walsh was surprised to find his new partner slumped over the counter in his diner, fast asleep, would be an understatement. Even more surprising was the recently lost trophy sitting on his counter that she had her left hand loosely wrapped around.
He grinned and quietly walked behind her, grabbed his jacket from the peg on the wall near the door and carefully slipped it over her shoulders covering her back and gently patting her shoulders to make sure the jacket was secure, ignoring the obvious affection he put into the gesture. Silently, he poured himself a cup of coffee and then leaned against the make-table where his grill also sat. He sipped his awesome tasting coffee (he didn't care what Shraeger said) and debated whether to let her stay there until it was time for them to show up at work or to wake her and let her grab a couple of hours of sleep in his now empty bed. Either way, he would tease her mercilessly about it but option number two sounded way more fun.
Casey woke, wrinkling her nose to the smell of strong coffee which had invaded her nostrils. No, correction, strong and slightly burnt coffee. It was a familiar aroma, one she had smelled recently. But where?
"Wakey, wakey, Detective Casey."
She groaned, knowing that voice even though it was slightly higher than usual as Walsh practically sang what he must have thought was a clever little rhyme. She turned her head to the other side, hoping that would get him to shut up while forgetting that she had perfect hearing in both ears.
"I will not be ignored, Shraeger," he said again, this time poking her in the shoulder with his index finger.
Growling a little, Casey lifted her head and peeled her eyes open to glare at him, "What!"
"How did you get into my diner?"
That wasn't the first question she had expected to be asked and frankly, after what she went through to get that dumb-ass trophy back, she rather resented his tone.
"I followed the cockroaches in," she said, lowering her head back down onto the warm, smooth surface.
"Huh. I didn't know you could pick locks. I'm not sure if I should scold you or be impressed with you," Walsh said, tugging on a piece of her hair to get her attention again.
"Save the accolades, a five-year-old could pick that flimsy excuse of a lock you use," she said. "But I guess you don't have to worry because any one who's eaten here would know that you have no customer base and therefore no money to steal."
"Hey, people eat here," Walsh said.
"Sure they do, but do you ever have any repeat offenders," she said, lifting her head again to stare at him. "I didn't think so."
"You eat here," he said with a grin.
"I don't know if spitting some unknown concoction onto a plate would qualify as eating."
"You know, you're cranky when you wake up," he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"My apologies, not all of us wake up singing Disney songs and dance while we get ready for work," Casey said.
"Now, that would be freaky," Walsh said, grin firmly back in place.
Casey sat up straight and caught the jacket that had somehow made its way onto her back before it could fall off. Confused, she raised questioning eyebrows at Walsh.
"You looked cold," he said.
A moment of silence passed between them as Walsh turned his head to look out the window again and Casey slowly blinked her eyes, attempting to wake up after very little sleep.
"Well?" Casey asked, annoyance creeping into her voice.
"Well what?" Walsh said, turning his head back to look at her, face blank.
She sighed, "Aren't you going to ask me how I got your trophy back?"
He shrugged and turned his head towards the window again.
"Fine," she snapped, hopping off the stool as she put her arms into the borrowed coat and snatched the trophy off the counter, turning to leave. "It's mine now anyway."
"Hold on," Jason said, reaching across the counter and grabbing the sleeve of his jacket so he could pull her back to the stool. "You know, you have no sense of humor when you wake up."
As she continued to glare at him, he sighed, "Fine, how did you get the trophy back?"
He could have sworn he saw her lower lip protrude a little before she answered.
"I'm not sure if you deserve to be told anymore," she said.
He couldn't help but smile at her, she was just too cute.
"You fell asleep on my counter waiting for me to get up so obviously you want to tell me."
"Wrong, I was going to leave the trophy in here for you since you're on my way home but I felt kind of dizzy and sat down for a minute. Guess I fell asleep."
"Either way, the suspense is killing me," he said, noting the dark shadows still under her eyes. "Tell me how you got the trophy back."
"Easy," she said, sitting back down onto the stool. "I won it."
Walsh settled back against the make-table, facing Casey as he folded his arms across his chest and waited for her to continue.
"You won it," he said.
"Sure did. You would have thought that by now Shaw would have figured out how you beat him at that milk drinking contest but he didn't."
"You challenged him?" Walsh asked, smiling at her again.
"Yup, and he spewed like a volcano after drinking the whole gallon, this time in a minute thirty," she said, smiling back.
He laughed, "How long did it take you?"
"About two hours," she said. "I can hold my drink."
Shaking his head he walked around the counter until he was in front of her, "In that case, the trophy should be yours."
"That's all right. I'd rather not have a testament to how stupid men are collecting dust on my shelf at home," she said, rolling her eyes. "You keep it."
"Maybe I'll leave it out on one of the shelves in the diner," he said, turning to study the shelf above the grill that was full of supplies. "I'll put your picture next to it for customers to admire."
She grabbed the trophy from the counter and held it protectively against her chest, "No way, this goes back into your closet and we never speak of it again."
"Whatever, why don't you give me that thing and you can grab a few winks at my place," he said, snatching the trophy out of her hands and gently pushing her towards the back of the diner.
"You don't have a girl back there? Wait, you're trying to add on to your harem," she said. "Although I don't think two women make a harem."
"Fishing now, Shraeger? Trying to pry more secrets from me?" he asked. "I'm not talking about my love life with you."
She groaned but walked towards the door to the back room, "But I'm your partner and a girl. I like to know these things."
"Girl talk later, sleep now," he ordered.
"You're so mean," she said and disappeared through the door way.
He waited a few minutes until he couldn't hear her move around anymore before staring at the trophy in his hand. Yup, full of surprises.
"Welcome back home to papa," he said, lifting his prize above his head in victory.
They were partners, after all, and that meant that her victories were his too.