As it turns out, I'm ready to post this next story much more quickly than I thought I would be. The rating for this story will definitely change at some point, because … Bullock. This is a backstory to "In Your Dreams", but if you haven't read that story, no worries. In this one, none of it's happened yet!
Of course, I own none of Gotham's characters. If I did, I'd be on a yacht sipping margaritas, using all my millions of dollars in cash to fan myself and buy more margaritas.
My apologies in advance for Harvey's vulgar language, observations, and actions. I don't know how he found me or why he talks to me, but while he's here, I'll keep writing everything down just like he says, no matter how it hurts my brain and destroys my soul.
Shoutout to ScaryScarecrows, who inspired this story by throwing out ideas for Gotham sitcoms. Shoutout to Harvey while I'm at it, who wakes me up with bits of dialogue at 3 a.m. You are the reason I drink.
7 Years Earlier
Harvey Bullock stood in the lobby of Blackgate Penitentiary, along with his new partner, Detective Johnson Pickering. The kid was quick, but not smart. He couldn't find a clue during clue mating season in a field full of horny clues all dancing the clue mating dance. Aside from being short on extra brain power, Pickering looked he might be able to start shaving in, oh, about another year or two, once puberty hit. In stark contrast to the gun and badge, he had the easy good looks, boy band blonde hair, and stupid grin of a J. C. Penny's catalog model. ... But the kid didn't ask a whole lot of questions and could seriously throw down in a fistfight. So as such Harvey resigned himself to play out the hand he was dealt.
In his mind, he gave a golf-clap to the Universe. He'd come across a partner that actually made him miss Dix. He frowned reflexively as he was reminded of exactly why he needed a new partner, courtesy of 'The Goat'. Proof that every time he thought he'd met the most deranged lunatic on the face of the planet, Gotham served him up one even shit-bat crazier.
Harvey glanced up at the clock above the receiving desk in the lobby. Jesus Christ, how long did it take to print out two fucking pieces of paper? He immediately began scanning the vicinity for a distraction.
And bingo. Found one. The cute little redhead still worked there. She stood just inside his one 'o clock at the very back of a line of file cabinets behind the front desk. Her matching suit jacket and pencil skirt were a color he couldn't quite nail down today. Somewhere on the spectrum between chocolate and aged merlot, which should have clashed with her cinnamon hot hair color but didn't. Whatever, all that mattered was that little office casual number pulled tight in all the right places. And she knew how to walk in heels, which was all but a lost art these days.
The very first time he saw her, well, he perused her curves at his leisure - but he also gave her a month tops. Blackgate had a way of weeding out the creampuffs. So she'd been here, what? Four months now? Golf-clap to her, too.
Harvey turned half a face to his partner. "Hey, Pickering."
His partner looked over from where he'd zoned out. "Hm? What?"
Harvey nodded over at not-a-creampuff. He lowered his voice. "What's the story with little red riding hood over here?"
His partner glanced once over his shoulder before reverting back to staring out into the lobby. "What? You lookin' to be her big bad wolf?"
Harvey faced the same direction and relaxed his back against the counter. "She gives me the time? I'll howl as long and loud as she'll let me."
Pickering clicked the side of his cheek. "I heard she likes the ladies."
There was an image he'd save for later. "That's fine by me. Just so long as she lets me watch. Or tags me in."
"You're really hard up for some prison therapist girl, huh?"
"Give me twenty minutes. I can make prison therapist girl into prison therapist woman."
A loud feminine voice sounded just behind them. "Hi, boys."
They both turned around to find themselves only inches away from prison therapist girl. She fluttered her eyelashes at them... oh, sarcastic-like.
Harvey opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke over top of him. "Little heads up, voices up front sorta echo in the back. So just to set the record straight, I tried dating girls. Turns out we're no angels ourselves. I don't always need a full twenty minutes. It all depends on what I've got going on that day. And in that fairy tale with the big bad wolf? You might want to cast yourself as someone else. He doesn't make it back for the sequel." She pointed to her left. "But if you're serious about sneaking into grandma's bed, I'd say you have an outside shot with Edna our stenographer over there."
Harvey's gaze followed to where she pointed out a Caucasian woman in her mid-sixties, who had her gray hair done up in full beehive.
Prison therapist girl gave a friendly wave to Edna. "She's looking for a new boytoy."
Harvey leaned in. "Is that the end of this lecture or should I wait for the ten minute break?"
She loudly stapled his paperwork together. "Don't let me hold you up, detective. I'm sure you've got surveillance to run or evidence to log or arrest warrants you just can't wait to file."
Okay, somebody caught the CHiPs marathon from last week. Harvey said, "Looks like I got all the trouble I can handle right here."
"You think this is trouble? Just wait 'til you need me for a court hearing."
Harvey lowered his voice to sweet talk level. "Hey, don't be like that. I thought dames like you were supposedta believe in second chances."
She handed off the paperwork to Harvey with a sugar-sweet, "Have a nice day, officers."
Pickering snickered under his breath. Harvey turned his back with a final, short wave. "Yeah, all right. Check you later, prison therapist girl."
The minute they were through the door and down the steps, his partner said, "That lady told you."
"What are you talkin' about? I totally made her lose her shit. Where I come from, that's a win."
Harvey climbed into the driver's seat with a groan. He congratulated himself on yet another outstanding conversation with a female.
He couldn't wait to get back to the office. He needed a drink.