When you got big dreams
Don't listen to what nobody say and don't let nobody turn you away.
When you got big dreams, keep your eyes on the prize.
Don't fall to the way side, reach for the sky.
- Bow Wow
Fall Semester, Week 1: Monday
"So, I've been thinking that Saturday-"
"Gale, I already thanked you for the ride. Don't push your luck. You're on my last nerve right now," Clove grits out sharply, clutching to her bag for dear life.
The dark-haired man leans back, letting out an exaggerated sigh. At the red light, he turns to Clove, and earnestly remarks, "Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?"
Clove lets out a dry laugh, "Gale-"
"I'm serious. All bullshit aside, if there was anyone I'd want to go through this with, it'd be you 100% of the time."
Clove's eyes twinkle slightly at the remark. "I'm..." she stumbles over her words, abashed, and mumbles, "Thanks, Gale."
A faint teasing smirk tugs at his lips and he ruffles her hair. The light turns green and Gale continues onto Harris street, pulling into the lot. He looks at the red brick building, muttering, "Looks friendly."
Clove flicks the side of his head. "I'm nervous enough on my own, but thanks for the morale booster."
He arches his brows in return and nudges her toward the door. "Give em hell, Clove."
"Yeah," she breathes, gaining momentum, "Yeah, that's right."
"-because I've definitely been suffering the brunt of your wrath for the last five years."
She steps out of the car, slinging the bag over her left shoulder. "You are going to be late, Hawthorne," Clove warns, having stolen his smirk with one of her own.
His gray eyes dart to the dashboard, "Fuck, alright. Try not kill anyone, okay? Save that for day two."
Clove slams the door, chuckling slightly as she heads towards the daunting structure with wide eyes. "Welcome to Adult Probation, Clove."
"Oh, when they said my intern was a pretty idiot, I should have figured it was you."
The blonde turns, a grin gracing him instantly, "Finnick Odair, haven't seen you since my 21st. Still been drunk these last three months?"
"Funny, Shrimp," the bronze-haired man retorts lightly, looking pristine in the navy uniform with a gun straddled at his waist. Just think, Cato. Nine months and it can all be yours. "Actually, had a very busy and productive summer."
Cato nods, the grin still not leaving him, "So what's our first order of business - bank robbery, high-speed chase, busting some crazy parties?"
Finnick stares him down, then with a smug expression replies, "Close."
Cato's blue eyes follow Finnick's, landing on a mountain of paperwork. "You've got to be kidding. Harry Potter is shorter than this!" Cato complains, picking up a quarter of the pages.
"This is nothing. Just wait."
Cato lets out a stream of air and accepts Finnick's pen.
Date of birth (and age):
June 27th, 1991 
By checking this box, student intern agrees to maintain standards and keep all necessary law enforcement matters confidential, unless designated by law as a mandated reporter for the state of Virginia.
Cato's phone buzzes slightly, and he angles himself away from Finnick's green eyes to read the message.
Small get-together tonight to celebrate the first night of school. Jo's coming over.
The blonde's lips form into a knowing expression.
Define small, Glim. - C
Don't get your panties in a bunch :)
He lets out an amused sigh, sending one last message, and pockets his phone. He rakes a hand through his hair, testing the dexterity of his right hand.
Heard a new accounting pick up line on the radio this morning; Why don't we go back to my place? I'll let you audit my staff.
Cato chuckles to himself, imagining her expression, and returns to his contracts. His phone buzzes twice in quick succession. By the time he gets to the last page of his contracts, Glimmer has probably sent him six or seven messages alone.
"Is there a section in here about the Skulls & Bones too?" he asks the bronze-haired officer, handing him the last of his contracts.
"Only if you're hired," Finnick teases, snatching the bundle of sheets and placing them in a mauve file cabinet.
He looks back to Cato, his posture becoming rigid, "Alright, rules of the road, before we get started. We are friends, and I want this to be fun, but first and foremost, we at the Charlottesville Police Department value your safety above all else, so try not to get yourself into any situations you can't pick yourself out of, Elroy, or this isn't going to bode well. Second of all, justice internships are sixteen hours a week. How you want to divide that up is up to you."
A grin has slid up Cato's face, "So, three in the morning?"
"Nothing good happens after 2 AM."
If anyone in the world would know that, it's definitely Finnick, Cato thinks as he continues the formalities. "When we go on-scene, either myself or another officer will assign tasks to you. Do not go beyond the scope of these assignments as they can cause some gnarly liabilities. Some days are slow, some days less so. Burn out's quick in this line of work, so if you go home and have something stuck on your mind, hit me up, and we'll go for a beer and talk."
"You're going to see things that may disturb you, may find yourself exposed the blackest parts of society. Tact is encouraged. Sometimes, things will get a little wild. You may discover that your neighborhood bookseller is charged with money laundering, or that that babe who's taken a shot or seven has been assaulted at the party. Discretion is a must, and please don't make me repeat that."
The blonde figures he'd be too damn focused on the scumbag who raped the drunk girl to have time to dish dirt to the other party-dwellers, but affirms what he's heard.
Static comes over Finnick's radio. "I'm going to take a piss, then we're going out on this call. Ready?" the bronze-haired man inquires, an itch of excitement in his veins.
"About time," Cato laughs. Finnick disappears towards the bathroom, and Cato withdraws his phone from his pocket.
Stick with me and those lights won't be the only thing flashing.
Is there a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
I have a great idea for those handcuffs.
You must be a cop, because you've got fine written all over you.
Human bodies have 206 bones. Do you want another one? ;)
You don't need a warrant to see the inside of my trunk.
He stifles a laugh with his hand, ultimately failing. Stumbling over to the water fountain, he takes a few sips, before sputtering the liquid in a hacking cough. Oh, he'll have his revenge.
Don't you have a boring econ professor to listen in on?
Finnick returns, throwing a card key at him. "Make sure you don't lose this, alright? It's your emergency access card." Shrugging, he adds, "Not that it matters. You'll have a babysitter on-sight at all times anyway. And you got your wish, by the way, first call is to a domestic dispute."
Glimmer's text comes through as they leave the station. Just think about it. I'll make the money, and you'll bring home the honeys. It's an even better deal than NAFTA.
Another grin breaks onto his face, and Cato isn't sure if it's because of Glimmer's jokes or the adrenaline rush of their first call, but something tells him this is going to be a great year.
AN - Dedicated to believeindream, who runs clatorecs on tumblr, and needs clato writers to fill all sorts of prompts.
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