To Be a Fly on the Wall

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; I do not make any profit from this.
Pairing: Sonny/Rico
Warning: none here
Rating: T / PG-13
Beta: webbswoman

Notes: A fly on the wall: an unnoticed observer (Oxford)
Chapter title was inspired by the Bryan Adams song
"Heat of the Night". The song features in episode 3-21 "Knock Knock ... Who's There?", something I did not realize until I had written "In the Heat of the Night". Just to make it clear, this chapter, which is set in season one, has nothing to do with the episode.


1. In the Heat of the Night

Rico was a born New Yorker. With the exception of camping with his family in New Jersey he had never left the area until he had chased his brother's murderer to Miami.

So naturally, while initially quite enthusiastic about the almost constantly good weather, he was not used to the heat. A heat that, these past few days especially, had been particularly humid and stifling

It was Tuesday night. Sonny and he had just finished a 24-hour surveillance. They had driven to the boat and Sonny had suggested he stay the night. Rico accepted and now he was lying in bed at – he glanced at the clock – half past midnight, and unable to sleep.

He had tossed and turned, thrown off the covers in the hope of receiving at least a hint of a cool breeze, he had beaten his pillow – it was all of no use. He felt sticky even though he had taken a shower before turning in.

Rico sighed, closed his eyes and once again tried to find his way into dreams. If this heat turned out to be a regular occurrence, Rico thought, he swore that he would go back to New York. There had to be at least one police department willing to take him.

He huffed, kicking his leg against the covers at the foot of the bed in frustration. The next time he looked at the clock it was past 1 a.m. Sitting up, he gazed with envy at his peacefully sleeping partner.

"Sonny," he called softly, unsure if he wanted him to wake or not. The light snoring subsided; Crocket turned and, in the dark, Rico could just detect the glint of Sonny's eyes as they opened.

"Wha…?" he questioned, still half-asleep. Rico knew that Sonny could wake within a second in case of danger. The fact that he hadn't jumped out of bed and cocked his weapon instantly told Rico how exhausted he was, and he regretted having woken him.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep," Rico sighed, slumping back onto the bed.

But Sonny was not so easily placated. The Southerner sat up slowly, glancing at the glowing digital numbers of the clock on the nightstand.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Can't sleep," Rico replied. "It's the damn heat." He beat his fist against the mattress.

With what sounded like a cross between a grumble and a sigh, Sonny crawled out of bed. He yawned hugely and crossed the room, not in the least embarrassed about his nudity. Rico only noted that this was obviously the way to survive the heat and have a good night's sleep.

Sonny flicked on a dim light situated at the headboard of Rico's bed. Pulling on shorts, he then rummaged around the boat's cupboards. First, he retrieved one of his cassettes, which he put into the small tape recorder. Slow, instrumental music filled the room and Sonny turned down the volume until it was barely more than background noise. Rico was surprised he even had anything like that. Then Sonny went through the drawers until, at last, he came up with a deck of cards. With another, smaller yawn, he bid Rico to shift over and sat down at the foot of Rico's bed.

Eager for any distraction at all, Rico sat up.

"Are we playing Poker?" he asked.

"No." Sonny merely said, shuffling the cards before starting to deal. Rico counted nine.

"Go Fish," the other man revealed.

Rico burst out laughing. "What? We are not seriously playing Go Fish?"

"Yes we are."

"Why not Poker? Or Black Jack?"

Sonny raised an eyebrow. Indicating the room he asked: "Does this look like a casino to you? And besides, I'll have to teach you those games first."

"We do play cards in New York too you know?!" Rico protested.

"Suuuure," Sonny drawled. "Now shut up and play. I don't want to be up all night."

Shaking his head in resignation, Rico picked up his cards.

However Sonny had done it, Rico eventually fell asleep. The next morning he woke late and not even face down slumped over his cards as one might have expected, but resting comfortably on his back with the covers drawn over him. Faintly he could hear Sonny's voice as he spoke to Elvis on deck.

And Rico decided that he didn't mind the heat after all.