More Than a Hotline Fling

-16-

Damian's POV

"Shirley, I'm -"

"Taking the rest of the day off." She swept her hand in a 'get out' gesture, reinforced by lifted eyebrows at why I stood outside her desk.

I paused and smiled at her anticipating my move. Shirley's black wig-covered head tipped up at me and her mouth pulled into a tight line, her version of a smile. I didn't ever take a day off but this wasn't going to be an easy trip for June.

"Tell Hernandez-"

"Yeah." She flicked her hand again. "You're blowing off the brass' communications meeting."

"I'm not -" I stopped, realizing she wasn't listening. Instead, she turned on her 'why are you still here?' eye daggers.

"Go. Office is much more relaxed when you're not here," she offered in her tight, no-nonsense voice. "And so am I."

"You're the best, Shirley," I teased.

"Did it for her, not you. Enjoy your double-booked meetings tomorrow, Sir," she shot back. Before I answered, she shooed me again, "Go, Captain Hotpants."

The prompt grabbed the attention of two Vice detectives, Sergeant Darryl Jenks and his partner Detective Lou Willis. Jenks was my go-to raid organizer. His attention to detail earned him Vice's largest amount of overtime, which I assumed he incurred because his mother recently moved in with him. Willis hadn't neared retirement, he passed it and yet still stuck around.

Both stood nearby Shirley's desk, June doughnuts in one hand and smirks directed at me. As I walked past, they licked their free hands' fingers, patted them on my pant legs, and hissed from being burned.

I swear, I will never live this Hotpants shit down.

One year later... still not funny.

Shirley's witch cackles behind me suggested otherwise.

"Back to your desks or you're getting moved to third shift," I threatened every hearty laugh that followed me. My feet trailed me around the office in a path I assumed June had taken. "Shirley, I mean it on those six months."

While Shirley debated which New York City manhole cover she preferred I dropped into, I headed out of my corner office area. Once inside the main work station area, my lips pulled into a tight smile. Among the sea of open desks littered with open cases, I frowned at the rows of monitors that flashed the same NYPD screensaver.

With one soft, melodic giggle, my girlfriend announced her presence. My eyes snapped in the direction and found she stood right in the middle of a loud, ruckus conversation.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

A few brown wisps had fallen out of her braid and slipped across her forehead. My fingers twitched to sweep them away, but I settled for my arms crossed and visual enjoyment from a distance.

Her gray winter coat sat on Detective Cerrato's center desk. My newest detective was granted the desk with the least amount of privacy, surrounded by the floor's sea of open desk stations.

Dressed in a light blue, short-sleeved scrub set, June's V-neck top had a black silhouette of a dog over her left tit and the phrase 'I Like Big Mutts (and I cannot lie)' on her right.

Only June.

She glowed with the sweet sense of happiness I always associated with her. With a bright smile, she talked with my staff, laughed, even patted a few arms. She even pretended she was excited about Detective McDonell's new horrible forearm tattoo, a compass coverup over his third ex-wife's name.