ONESHOTS ⊳ gavin reed x reader

[War Paint]

Requested by @TosukaFan
In which you, a rookie, come prepared to the DPD, and that obviously includes knowing about Gavin Reed. Instead of avoiding or fearing him like the most newbies, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You've heard of him—he's almost a urban legend of Detroit at this point. And it's almost amusing too, honestly.

Gavin Reed, the famous asshole detective.

Rookies call him all sorts of names, ranging from witty ones such as "Ass-Holmes" to, well, simply put, fuckface. A childish way of dealing with injustice or just things they dislike—but it worked. It made enduring the asshole detective's temperament just a little more bearable.

Though Gavin had never seemed to mind, in fact, he actually seemed to enjoy it, and do all sorts of douchey moves just to spark new nicknames.

Fucking asshole.

He was out for a new nickname that day too, it seemed. He had casually approached you as you were standing by the coffee machine in the breakroom. But you were prepared.

"Hey, dollface. You're the new one, aren't you?"

"None of your business, detective Reed." You answered coldly, not even looking up from your cup of coffee, watching it fill up.

"Oh, she knows my name." He concluded and crossed his arms over his chest, simultaneously puffing it out. Perhaps in the hopes of seeming more imposing, or something of the sort. "I'm flattered."

"We all know your name. Because you terrorize them — us. Because you pull all the dick moves on us. Just because you're on a higher rank. But guess what, Reed." You paused, and took the cup from the coffee machine. "I'm not gonna have any of it."

"And what does that mean, shit head?"

"It means that you should put on your fucking warpaint. And start learning my name, your below average brain should be capable of at least that, Reed." You smiled and unfolded a piece of paper, handing it to him. "Or should I say, partner?"

He rushed to rip it out of your grip and read through it.

He was left dumbfounded, holding the sheet of paper, staring at it as if he hoped it'd just burn and cease existing.

He had been partnered up with you.

And Fowler's signature was at the bottom of the page.

Gavin drew in a shaky breath as you strode out of the break room.

So you wanted war? You'll get it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It started off small, in spite of the grand entrance. You had switched the salt and sugar, causing Gavin to put salt in his coffee.

He had fucked with your printer, ultimately messing it up in some goddamn way, then fixed it at the end of the day with a few adjustments here and there, all while smiling at you victoriously.

You had responded by (admittedly quite childishly) spilling your coffee on him.

Gavin had messed with a lead you had gotten on a crime scene by placing baggies of cocaine all over the place, which turned out to be powdered sugar. After three hours of you searching for clues and him watching.

You then got your sweet revenge by making his terminal play a shitty porno at full volume the moment he unlocked it.

It took him a while to figure out how to turn it off, especially with all eyes at the station resting on him. And earned him a new nickname as well.