Glory.

9

Some people say there are good cops and bad cops but I think that's an oversimplification. They can be honest, courageous, corrupt, devious, malicious, altruistic, cunning or stupid and that's just my short list. My dad was a cop, and he was all of those things. Not all at once but the right blend of circumstances could bring out any one of those things in him. He was like a chameleon, blending in with those around him. My mother would say he was easily lead as a kid.

My gaze rested upon Blu as I curiously pieced together his complex puzzle. I simply didn't know what kind of cop he was. He was heroic, courageous, all that good cop stuff—I hadn't seen a 'bad' trait yet. It was confusing as hell. No one person is just...good. We all have our shit traits whether we accept it or not. "Shit, man." His eyes squinted as he yawned. Quite loudly if I might add. Come to think of it, this man has never yawned at an acceptable volume—fucking annoying if you ask me. From weeks of barely getting any sleep, his sudden drowsiness was expected.

"Yeah." I sighed, feeling slightly guilty as I marched over the radio near his desk—finally settling on the station playing Just To Keep You Satisfied by Marvin Gaye before plopping back down into my chair. I pressured Blu into working late almost every night, disguising it as some sort of drive for this case. Though, we were still very much up to our ears with this shit, it wasn't exactly why I was so excited to get back to work on it.

"I lost my virginity to this song," he chuckled, leaning backwards with his arms folded over his chest. His eyes laid on the high ceilings of the empty precinct. I laughed at his sudden confession, shrugging my shoulders or shoulder—still had this damn uncomfortable sling over my arm. "Not the butt one." He added, pointing his finger at me suddenly.

"I always wondered what that was like?" I confessed, crossing my legs as I laughed more. I guess I was a little tipsy from the alcohol he'd brought. "Havin' something in your ass." This time, Blu was laughing. As he thought, he licked his lips and squinted his eyebrows–I guess this was a hard question. He seemed pretty focused.

"I would assume reverse shitting, with a little added pleasure." He said, reaching over his small glass and downing what was left of the alcohol. We were both snickering like naughty children. "I wouldn't know. I'm a top." He said proudly.

"Oh so you're the giver?" I challenged.

"You say that like it's so monumental," he poured more Whiskey for the both of us whilst he chuckled lowly. "It's just fucking." He outstretched his hand with my glass in it, pausing for a moment as we shared a glance. I took the time to examine my partner—his doe brown eyes, chiseled jaw and the light, prickly stubble slowly growing in on that perfect jaw of his. Instead of sporting his usual low haircut, he was wearing a durag, and he sat in lounge clothes. "So." he cleared his throat as I finally took the glass.

"Cheers." I said, thrusting my cup upward and bumping it against his.

"Wait, to what?" He smirked, sipping a little.

"Me not fuckin' dying." I found myself snorting though I didn't find the situation exactly funny. But sometimes, you just have to fuck it and laugh, I guess? My thoughts began to jumble. "And being the hell away from home." I sighed, watching as my phone vibrated for the third time on his desk. 'Victoria.', the contact name read–no contact picture.

She was still here.

"What's up with you two? Is that why you practically live in this place?" He motioned around the precinct, his voice echoing. I nearly scoffed at his prying but my drunk words were faster than my sober thoughts.

"She's fuckin' annoying." I blurted, pursing my lips quickly at the sudden outburst. I was bettering myself. Words like that were only okay in my head! Shit, he was going to dig more. And he did. Blu's eyebrows quirked up as he leaned over, facing me. "Not like that. She's just...smothering, I guess."