Pairing: Sergeant Davis Quinton/Constable Karen Pelly
Theme set: DELTA
Comments: I've debated posting this for a long while, but I figured I would give it a shot and post it here anyway; FFnet needs all the Corner Gas fic it can get, I'd imagine. 50 sentences of The Dog River Police Department, written for the '1sentence' community at Livejournal. I had a lot of fun writing these, actually; K+D come so naturally because they're so weird.
The open air of the prairie beckoned to her, as she opened the window despite his complaints that it was cold outside – she told him to put on his jacket.
"I had a bunch of apples I wasn't gonna eat. I hope you like…" she pulled the cloth off the top of the plate with a surprising amount of gusto, "Apple Pie, Davis!"
When they first met, she thought he was too slow-witted for her to get along with, but as the months went by she realized they weren't so different after all, and found his naivety incredibly endearing.
The constant sound of crickets overlapped the sound of the rustling grasses, creating a peaceful ambience that she took solace in as her partner snored in the car seat beside her.
Often would the pair trek out to The Ruby for a cup of coffee – Davis, however, preferred the coffee that Karen would sometimes brew on the slower-paced days with the old coffee machine in the police station, but would still make the journey to The Ruby purely because she insisted.
They sometimes drove out of town, into the deep country after dark, where they would park the cruiser and be swallowed by the open Saskatchewan sky, stars flickering on the hood of the car until Davis fell asleep as he always did.
Wullerton would not have her, he thought – he had to do everything he could to get her to stay; nobody had ever stayed with him as long as she had, and he wasn't willing to throw that away.
In a dramatic display of 'police work', he threw the doors to The Ruby open, Karen trailing behind him, her shoulder getting caught by the edge of the door on the way through with an audible thump – he offered her the last doughnut that afternoon as an unsaid apology, although she didn't take notice.
He could tell when she had a few too many to drink; she would lean against him, chattering on about god-knows-what to him or anyone else nearby who would listen, sometimes challenging them to a game of pick-up-sticks - and he would take it upon himself to drive her home.
It annoyed him when she didn't take their job seriously, dirtying the name of DRPD with her mockery and quips; she later observed how he bristled when a sarcastic comment escaped her lips, and soon gained the foresight when and when not to comment on their workload (or lack thereof).
The smell of the grass and earth overwhelmed her as she lay on the grass next to him, watching the clouds roll past through the colossal heavens – she was not listening, twisting a piece of the long grass in her fingers as he spoke, telling her about a movie he had seen the other night, she nodded and smiled anyway.
Her initial excitement at being promoted melted when she realized its implications – the new mayor's smile adding to her discomfort as she turned to him slowly, mouthing the name "Wullerton" with an air of silent shock.
Shame bubbled up inside of her every time her knees made hard contact with the gravel and the bicycle toppled over her – she had to learn to ride it before she returned to the station; she couldn't let him see her this vulnerable.
The Fire Department had usurped their thrones, running amok in their kingdom, destroying everything they had worked to achieve; their former friends throwing themselves at the impostors' feet with admiration in their eyes – they had to be stopped, their Kingdom of Dog River would not be lost.
When she told him that she was double-jointed, he didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted – truthfully, he didn't remember what it meant.
On the windiest days the clouds would move so fast it was dizzying, and as they drove down the long stretching roads it gave her something akin to the sensation of flying, although she had never been on an airplane.
He had developed a sort of addiction to the chocolate-chip-non-zucchini muffins she had been perfecting, and sometimes fabricated occasions for her to bake a batch.
As the days went on, she was beginning to regret the suggestion of new shoes; his weary and pained expression from trying to break the new shoes leaving her concerned for his well-being – it was then she decided she had to do something to fix the problem she had created.
There were nights when he tossed and turned, different scenarios playing through his head each time, blurry, silent visions – it always ended the same way each time, a single stony grave in a field of amber, and he prayed there would never be a time where they are forced to draw their weapons.
"You know, I never noticed it before, but it's… really green out there," she said, looking out the passenger-side window to the green fields that stretched beyond her field of sight – he looked out his own window, nodding but saying nothing.
He had lied about disliking the smell of her hair, it was the smell he enjoyed most after regaining his sense – when she leaned over him to reach for something in the glove compartment, he breathed in the scent of vanilla and smiled faintly.
The slings and arrows that she often aimed at him were nothing more than empty words – hollow nothings that she hissed from behind clenched teeth – it was a display to maintain her image in the small town; but she always wanted to wring her own neck when she saw the hurt in his eyes.
She had lost her badge, and was very careful not to let him know, often twisting conversations so that it would never come up; for she knew that if he learned, she would only earn herself a long lecture – something that she was always hoping to avoid.
He had done as she was secretly hoping, offering a sweet smile as she nodded, and he led her out to the dance floor, past the now awkwardly shuffling Brent and Lacey, twirling her as the music swelled.
They sat on the edge of the hood of the car in the fading light, coffee in hand, watching the sun disappear behind the far-flung horizon; every evening was as spectacular as the last, and they never missed it when they had the chance.
His eyes fell upon the hackeysack while casually browsing to avoid going back to the station, and he thought it a good idea to make amends for something he hadn't done but she believed that he had, "Stupid 'footbag' thing," he muttered, and snatched it from the shelf.
He pointed the gun at her, and even though it was not in bad intention that he had done so, something twisted violently inside him; he forgot what he was saying and wanted to drop the gun as if it had burned him.
He was always buying new equipment, whether they needed it or not, and these items often ended up broken or misplaced by the end of the week due to some strange mishap with the townspeople; instead, she had taken the responsibility of ordering the equipment herself when it was actually needed, but it turned out that she was no better than her partner.
"What? You're not old," Karen said, nearly laughing at his grumbling from his side of the car, "Since when do you listen to Oscar, anyway? I thought that was a rule or something out here."
The peace was almost infuriating at times; they could only give out so many jaywalking tickets.
"Let you cook?" she said, raising an eyebrow and placing her hands at her hips, "Come on, Davis, I'm not that crazy."
Sometimes he would wake up during one of their mid-day naps in the car, and he would turn to her; she looked so pretty and peaceful in the afternoon light – but she would eventually stir and he would place his hat back over his eyes and lean back in his seat again.
She decided that the person who had coined the phrase 'when it rains, it pours' had lived in Dog River once, as they sat silently inside the squad car, the rain pounding on the windshield like an intense drummer's beat and the cold air seeping in through the air vents; she pulled her jacket tighter around herself.
She found a watch in his desk drawer, white gold with intricate carvings, and an engraving with her name on its backside – it was then that she realized what she had shattered on that Christmas.
He gave her a completely dumbfounded look as she placed the vase of roses on his desk with a loud clunk, telling him to smell them – it was one of the most spectacular sensations he had experienced after regaining his sense of smell, and he thanked her for it.
He didn't want her to keep secrets; a good cop knows everything about his partner – but as time went on he learned how little he knew about her, new quirks appearing in her every day, and he vowed to someday get her to open up fully to him.
She smirked, pulling the small snake out of her desk drawer with a sense of triumph – Davis Quinton's revenge was swift yet completely tactless, she decided; he would have to try harder than that to frighten her.
The snow was falling gently over them where they sat on the steps outside the station; she enjoyed the biting fresh air after being inside of the office all day, and though he didn't like the cold, he stayed with her so she wouldn't be alone.
The relationship was simple, solid; its foundations unshakeable; they could bicker and exchange sarcastic comments until the fading light, but they were always back to square one the next morning when they met at the station doors.
Spring was her least favourite season, how she hated that smell of dirt and water and the mud splashing onto her shoes – Davis, however, loved it; the warm sunshine and the fresh breezes in between the rainy days leaving him in a pleasant mood to contrast with the attitude of his partner.
She gasped in alarm, tripping over herself at the top of the station stairs; she braced herself for the impact with the cement, but never felt it – instead she felt his arms around her and his voice telling her to 'watch where she was going before she killed herself'.
He couldn't help but notice the way her voice wavered as she was speaking to him, shaking for a reason he couldn't really place, and she couldn't either.
He placed his hand at her back as they walked out of the gas station, and she couldn't tell whether it was such a gesture or the summer heat that constricted her breathing in such a way; she settled on blaming the scorching prairie sun.
It was a late night at the hotel bar when she kissed him, the room empty save for Paul, who was making himself busy collecting money from the pinball machine – neither remembered it the next day, but Paul smiled knowingly every time he saw the pair walk into the bar ever since that night.
He made a bid on the godawful thing; her jaw slackened as she stared at the large mounted fish, "Why'd you buy that ugly thing? You're not putting that on the wall, you know."
She knew he was the only one rooting for her in the table hockey war, and that thought alone made her smile even as she faced her crushing defeat at the hands of the gas station attendant.
He hadn't made fun of her like the others had – he seemed genuinely interested in the freak sport of static apnea; she figured that was at least worth a show of her 'skills' (in addition to the twenty bucks he offered for her to show him).
Lacey ushered the pair into The Ruby that night, smiling and congratulating them on something; dimmed lights and candles, a dinner for two laid out on one of the tables, and she urged them to sit down.
The cold air burned in her lungs every time she breathed in, and came out visibly in the air as she exhaled; she commented on how cold it was and he wrapped his scarf around her neck.
The fire crackled merrily in the winter air, sending sparks shooting into the blackened sky like red hot stars; Dog River's residents huddled around it, snugly wrapped in their scarves and coats, singing Christmas Carols they forgot the words to and tossing back their drinks like it was nobody's business – she leaned against him, sighing contentedly as he put an arm around her, and Hank put another log onto the now blazing famous pile of lumber.