"All right, team, listen up." Nicholas stood at the front of the squad room as he spoke. "Today is the start of a three-day intensive course on firearms to be carried by the Sandford Police Service during armed response calls. I don't anticipate having anything similar to the recent NWA incident arise again, as we shall work to prevent crime prior to perpetration, but it is always best to be prepared."
"Perpetration? Aren't you the naughty one, Chief," Doris cackled. Bob Walker muttered something in agreement that Nicholas could only assume was obscene. Five months in Sandford hadn't quite rendered him immune to the daily catcalls and inappropriate teasing, but at least now he could ignore most of the comments, so he forged ahead with his introduction.
"I hope you've read the handbooks you were given from cover to cover. They were distributed last week, so you've had plenty of time to do so. There will be a written examination as well as a practical of the skills that will be demonstrated today, both taking place on the last day of the workshop. Despite this training not qualifying you as an Authorised Firearms Officer, it is the first step along the process of doing so and will also prepare you in the event another situation such as the NWA incident occurs. Now, first on the list for review is how to service your weapon. Sgt. Butterman, if you would do the honours?"
Wainwright snorted. "I don't think we need to hear about your love life, Inspector."
"Heh, love life," Cartwright said sotto voce.
"Weren't you the one who told us we've got to be more professional around the station?" Wainwright continued. "I don't think having Sgt. Butterball demonstrate your weapon servicing technique falls under condoned station behaviour or appropriate topics of conversation. Says so right there in that manual you wrote, don't it?"
"I've been known to demonstrate a bit of my love life from time to time," Doris giggled. Tony laughed along, a mildly confused expression on his face as he looked up from his mug.
"You know perfectly well what I meant, Detective, now please pay attention." Nicholas pulled out a chair and joined the group at the table. "Sgt. Butterman, if you would?"
"It would be my pleasure, Inspector Angel. You lot, listen up. This is a Glock 17 9mm semi-automatic pistol. It has a spring-loaded firing pin that starts off half-cocked and becomes fully cocked once the trigger is pulled. It carries seventeen rounds in the magazine, and disassembles into five groups for maintenance: barrel, slide, frame, magazine, and recoil spring assembly. In the event of a misfire, the dud round must be ejected from the slide before the striker will be re-cocked."
Cartwright snickered. "Awfully interested in cocks, aren't you, Danny?"
"Gettin' lots of private tutoring in on the subject lately, isn't he?" Wainwright elbowed his partner in the side and they leered at each other.
"Lots of interest in cocks at this station." Doris grinned and Nicholas barely stopped himself from running screaming from the room. "We should have T-shirts made up: the Half-Cocked Squad."
Wainwright sniggered behind his hand. "Want to play Cocks and Robbers, Doris?"
"Let's watch Beverly Hills Cock!"
"Oh, nice one, Andy." Wainwright high-fived his partner.
"Oh, oh, I know!" Danny eagerly waved a hand above his head. "RoboCock!"
Nicholas slouched in his chair, head in hand, and sighed.
"You did that on purpose." Nicholas slid into bed next to where Danny was propped against the headboard.
Danny grinned and flipped through a few more channels before turning off the telly. He shifted so he was flat on the bed, looking at Nicholas from very close up. "I would never perpetrate conduct so unbecoming a police officer. Got a very dirty mind, haven't you?"
"I have not! It was entirely your fault, using phrases like 'fully cocked.'"
"Just have to make it up to you then, haven't I? How 'bout this?" Danny slid under the covers and licked Nicholas from belly button to nipple.
"That tickles!" Nicholas choked off a laugh.
"Can't have that now, can we? How about I service your weapon?" He sucked on Nicholas' nipple, gently worrying it with his teeth, then let it go with a pop. "Polish your pistol?"
Nicholas moaned, too distracted by Danny's fingers to vocalize his disbelief at the wretchedness of the pun.
"Want me to ram it on in there and wiggle it about a bit?"
"Danny!"
"What? You like it when I do that. I know, 'cause you've moaned it loud enough for the neighbours to hear you."
"I have not!"
"Have so. Emily's mum's sister's son's boyfriend told me the other week he heard very loud noises coming from the cottage when he was passing by on the way to market."
"You're having me on."
"I would never pull your leg. Well, not like that, anyway. Like this, maybe, while I'm putting a round in the chamber, so to speak," Danny laughed as he guided Nicholas' leg to wrap around him. "And now I'm locked and loaded."
"I swear to God, Danny, if you use that phrase during class tomorrow, I will perpetrate a considerable amount of violence upon your person."
"You wouldn't dare. Love me too much, don't you?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't count on that getting you out of trouble all the time," Nicholas replied as he ran his fingers through Danny's short hair. He cupped his hand around the nape of Danny's neck and pulled him down for a leisurely kiss. "Sleeping with your Inspector might do it, though."
"Yeah?"
"Shagging your superior officer senseless is not listed in the handbook as the suggested method of dealing with his displeasure, but it does seem to be working in this particular case."
"How about maintaining your partner's lethal weapon? Is that on the list of recommended ways to get back in a superior's good graces?"
Nicholas groaned. "You did not just say that."
"What sort of paperwork do you suppose you'd have to do when you discharge your partner's weapon?"
"I don't think—" Nicholas gasped as Danny hit just the right spot, "that you'd want to file a report on this, would you?"
"Probably not, since that would require someone else knowing you look absolutely gobsmacked when you come and that you can't keep quiet to save your life when I blow in your ear." Danny suited actions to words and Nicholas couldn't suppress the groan that rose up from inside.
"All right, partner, time to die hard." Danny laughed, the sound joyous and free, and a shiver ran down the length of Nicholas' body as he came.
They lay there panting and gasping for several minutes before Nicholas smacked Danny upside the head. "Absolutely no Bruce Willis references while we're in bed ever again."
"What's wrong with Bruce Willis? He was off the hook in Live Free or Die Hard. And he obviously has a thing for younger men."
"I've had enough nightmares about being half-naked, barefoot, and alone in a skyscraper to last me a lifetime."
"But you wouldn't be alone—I'd be right there beside you, wouldn't I? Really, Nicholas, you worry about the silliest things." Danny snuggled up close and carefully tucked the covers round their shoulders.
Nicholas stared, so completely flattened by the comment he couldn't speak for a moment. "Of course you would, partner." He hooked his arm over Danny's waist and settled in to sleep. "Good work today, Starsk."
Danny patted his chest. "You, too, Hutch. Now go to sleep. And remind me to interrogate you in the morning about your previously unmentioned affection for 1970s cop shows."
"Roger that."
Thanks as always: Tiriel, Veronica, and Alyse.
Feedback: email, dw, or on the Yuletide archive.