Butterfly
AUTHOR: Lucky.
DISCLAIMER: Except for the creations of the author, all characters, characterizations, situations, and locations described in this unsolicited and not-for-profit work of fiction are the property of ABC Television, Capitol Cities, Inc., Steven Bochco Productions, the many talented people who created the world of NYPD Blue, and the actors who have made that world such a lively place. The author would also like to extend her personal gratitude to Mr. Scott Cohen for his light, his vitality, his inspiration, and for being such a compelling muse. Thank you, sir.
FEEDBACK: To Lucky
She snapped her head up from her coffee at the sound of footsteps, as she'd been doing ever since she'd gotten to the hospital, but it wasn't him.
He's been in there for three hours already. It was just a couple of scrapes... wasn't it?
Caruso watched her from across the lobby, then stood and walked over to her.
"You saw him. He was fine."
Posey nodded, her eyes swirling with the clouds in her coffee. "I just can't help but see him trussed up and think that if they were cruel enough to do that to him..."
"Detective Jackson," Caruso put a hand on her arm and cleared his throat a little, starting over in a gentle voice. "Posey... Harry's been slapped around before. He's fine." Posey glanced up, actually able to give the pudgy man a small smile. Cary smiled back. "Besides, I don't think he'd make me break in a new partner just yet." Posey's smile came true and Cary opened his arms. "Come here, honey."
Posey gave him a hug, starting to feel a little better. He'd apologized for everything when he realized what was going on between Harry and Posey, as had Posey after listening to Harry and his best friend trade typical guy-insults in the back of the ambulance.
"He'll be fine," Cary whispered, patting her back a little as he hugged her.
"You're damn right he will," came a quiet voice from the waiting room door. "I know I promised you my desk when I finally bit it, but this is just taking liberties."
As one, Cary and Posey turned to smile at him, speaking in unison. "Harry!"
He'd been properly washed and combed, and, just as Cary had promised, was perfectly fine. The scrapes were already starting to heal, the nosebleed was gone, and the welts around his wrists had faded into faint, pink rings.
Posey tried not to prance as she went to him. "Thank god you're alright." She slipped her hand into his.
"Yes," Harry agreed with snapping eyes. "Except for the little handprint on my face, the doctors say I'll make a full recovery."
Posey looked away. "Maybe you just need a touch-up," she grumbled, earning herself a sloppy kiss on the cheek in return.
"Damn, Harry," Cary seized his hand and pumped it as he spoke. "What took so long? Were you back there explaining Unified Field Theory or something?"
Harry eyed him. "You're just jealous because I didn't kiss you."
Caruso rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure you're right, Denby. Now I know you're okay." He turned away to collect his parka as Harry called after him.
"Yeah, I'm fine, but there's a box of lonely crullers somewhere in this city tonight."
Caruso didn't look back, but took the time to show Harry his middle finger as he walked out.
Posey and Harry laughed, then turned to one another.
"How do you feel?" Posey asked, slipping an arm around his waist and patting his stomach a little.
"Aside from being hungry, tired, achy and generally banged up, surprisingly good," he replied. "How are you feeling?"
Posey grinned up at him. "Loved."
He returned her smile and wrapped his arms around her. "Wonder how I'm gonna talk my way out of that one."
She chuckled a little, stroking his fuzzy jaw. "You could start by telling me what took so long. I was worried."
Harry put his head up, smiling broadly. "I don't know how emergency rooms operate in Detroit, but in New York, if you don't have a lawn dart lodged in your eyeball, you get what you get when you get it."
"It works kind of like that where I come from."
"Kind of. Meaning what?"
"You get what I give you and like it."
Harry chuckled, lowering his mouth to hers. "I could live with that."
Just as his lips touched hers, an unnecessarily loud throat at the admitting desk cleared. Harry and Posey turned quickly.
"You've been discharged, Detective Denby. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." The rotund little nurse at the desk glared at them meaningfully.
Harry took Posey's hand and headed for the door.
"Boy, if I had a nickel for every time I've heard that..."
Conversation settled a little as a man in somewhat dirty clothing and a police officer in a SWAT uniform walked into the little burger stand, but as soon as it became clear that they weren't interested in anything but each other, everyone forgot they were there.
Harry and Posey picked the booth farthest from everyone else and sat down without a word, each picking up a menu, which seemed to serve no purpose other than for them to exchange playful little glances over. This went on for several minutes, then Posey slid her foot carefully from her side of the booth to his, placing her boot alongside his wingtip. He leaned back a little, looking at his feet beneath the table, then pointed his eyes over his menu at her again. She pretended to be innocently studying her burger choices.
Harry set his menu on the table and cleared his throat delicately. "Do you know what you'll be getting tonight?"
Posey didn't lift her eyes. "Only if I'm lucky." She looked up at him then, purposely expressing bewilderment at his slick, flirty smile. "What? The menu's so stained I can't tell what they have."
He faked an epiphany. "Oh... of course. What was I thinking?"
Posey gave him a sweet smile and shifted her weight, crossing her legs and running the foot that had been beside his up his calf, pretending to study the menu again. "I don't know," she sighed dramatically. "I'm always so picky about what I put in my mouth."
"You're killin' me," Harry broke in. "I'm serious. I really can't keep up with you if you're gonna keep touching me while you talk."
"Oh, a stammering adolescent, are you?"
"No..."
"I just melt your butter that bad, Detective?"
"No, that..." He stopped himself and backtracked. "Yes, but that's not what I mean."
Posey put her feet on the floor. Her side of the floor. "What do you mean?"
Harry placed his elbows on the table and started ticking points off on his fingers. "Okay, I meet you on your first day and you basically throw yourself at me."
"I did not 'throw myself' at you. I simply... made myself available. You, on the other hand, were practically drooling over me."
Harry passed a hand over his mouth and cocked his brow at her. "Are you done?" She stayed silent, waiting. "Thank you... So we go out on that first date, have a nice little dinner, and then you put me through my paces at the rink."
"Trust me, I had to think hard to find something I knew you couldn't do."
"Yeah, well, you might want to think a little harder next time."
Posey slapped her hands down on the table, realizing what he was telling her. "You son of a bitch."
Harry put his hands up and gave a little bow with his head. "All City Junior Pro Hockey, 1983-84 season champ series MVP. I've been skating since I was five."
Posey leveled a finger at him, trying not to laugh. "You wanna go back to the hospital?"
Harry rolled his eyes and dismissed her. "Anyway," he went back to ticking off points. "So, fine... big fight, Harry gets dumped. I realize that I was a jerk for thinking something untrue about you and spend the next week stalking you until I know where you are and when you're there."
"You followed me?"
He wobbled his head noncommittally. "Approximately."
Posey slapped the table again, leaning so far forward that she almost came off the bench. "You had me followed?"
"When all your friends are narcotics officers, it's pretty easy to find people." He smiled at her exasperation for a moment, then went on. "To continue with our little tale... I come to your apartment, we bond, we have a little tea, we share a few war stories, one thing leads to another and we both end up falling asleep before the caution can really make it into the jetstream."
Posey laughed out loud at him. "I can't believe you can do this with a straight face."
He smiled winningly and continued. "Next morning, I wake up in a cloud of blue fleece and it bitches about morning happening, then kicks me out of bed."
"I did not..."
Harry put a hand up, interrupting her. "Still talking..." Posey fell silent, waiting again. "Thank you... so we get to work, it's fun for the first time in two years, Cary klunks that bald head of his into a wall... things are going well. All of a sudden..." He dropped his hand onto the table hard enough to make the salt and pepper shakers skitter. "Don Kirkendall."
Conversation came to an abrupt halt as every eye hit the pair seated in the far corner. In the following silence, Harry murmured softly across the table.
"I really hate that asshole."
"I guess so," Posey replied in a whisper, keeping her eyes down and waiting for the ambient noise to return to normal. After a few minutes, she looked up into Harry's still-angry eyes. "John told me..."
Harry made a bitter sound. "John. No wonder."
"Then you already know what I know."
Harry nodded, hiding his mouth from her behind his laced fingers. "And what you think you know... and what you don't know." He made another bitter sound. "If god is truly omniscient, he must be the most self-loathing creature alive."
"Then you should envy him."
Harry's eyes glittered as he pinned her. "Why would I do that?"
"God has no one to talk to." Posey watched him digest that, his countenance softening noticeably.
"Okay, Mariposa. Fine. What do you want to know?"
She gazed into his eyes with all proper seriousness. "When the waiter is going to notice us."
Harry's giggle caught him completely off-guard, tossing his shoulders forward a little. He caught it quickly, putting a hand over his mouth and clearing his throat a little. When he'd come back around, Posey spoke again.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Anything."
"I'm not sure what you've gotten before in the chick department, but I'm actually a reasonable human being. If you can't talk about it without completely popping off, then don't, but if you've got something to say about it, I'd be interested in hearing it."
"And you're not gonna slap me again?"
"I was angry. I'm sure you can relate, table abuser."
Harry gave a sheepish little grin and rolled his eyes. "Okay. You want my end of the Kirkendall affair? It's very simple. I get saddled with a cocaine trafficker whose Homicide detective ex-wife can't seem to keep herself out of his pants. I go to the said ex- wife's partner... that's the Diane part... and tell her to get her partner the hell out of the way before she gets hurt. She doesn't, gets herself involved, I get six months of department sanctioned 'screw you, Denby' shoved up my ass, and Diane leaves in a snit because, and this is pure speculation, she couldn't get me locked up for pissing on her parade of righteousness. End of story. Can we eat, now?"
Posey looked randomly around for a second, making a series of understanding faces, then, "What planet did you say this was?"
"Apparently not the same one as the waitstaff in this restaurant," Harry said, ignoring her for the moment in favor of forcing eye contact on a waitress. "Cheeseburgers okay with you?"
"That's fine. Can I get chili fries, too?"
Harry looked at her, making a face. "Not if you plan to kiss me anytime in the next week."
Posey shrugged. "Your loss. I'm getting 'em."
Harry gave her a frustrated little huff and went back to flagging down some service. He finally got someone to notice him and she came over.
"Ready to order?" she popped and snapped through a mouthful of highly visible, bright blue gum. Harry tossed Posey a look of distaste. "I guess I could still try to eat." Posey pushed a giggle back with her hand as Harry continued. "Can we get a couple of cheeseburgers and a damn plate of chili fries for the stubborn thing on the other side of the table?"
"Just answer me this... why chili fries?"
"Oh, quit bitching. It's not like I rammed them down your throat with a stick."
"I had to eat some. It's a matter of desensitization."
"That works for the first two or three. You ate half the plate."
"Less talking, more door opening."
Posey rattled her keys in the door and opened her dark apartment. Clicking on the light, she looked around with a groan.
"Oh, holy hell."
Harry came in after her and made a surprised little noise. "Hey... stuff."
Her furniture had picked that day to arrive and it looked like a bunch of oversized, leather coated, migrating ducks landed wherever they happened to fall, scattered about the room. Posey headed for the kitchen to check the machine.
"The super must have let them in. Shit." Sure enough, her answering machine had seven messages on it. Four from telemarketers, one from her mother, and two from the building superintendent. He called once before the furniture arrived and then again after, telling her that he'd been in her apartment and not to be worried and that he made sure it was locked after he left.
"Brilliant. I would have never guessed that you'd come in my apartment today. Thanks for the warning," Posey mumbled at her machine, erasing her messages. She took off the stiff jacket of her SWAT uniform, tossing it across the kitchen table, leaving herself in the short-sleeved jumpsuit, and walked back into the living room. With a little smirk, she said, "Make yourself at home, Harry."
His tie, jacket, and shoes were on the floor and he'd practically pitched himself down into her overstuffed leather double chair, sinking in with a blissful smile. "Make fun all you want. I may leave you for this chair."
Posey chuckled and dropped herself down beside him in the oversized chair, tucking a leg underneath her. "I'm glad you like it."
Harry groaned a little and flopped over until he was practically lying in her lap. She stroked his hair as he spoke. "That's it. I'm quitting my job and putting in an application to be your dog."
She laughed a little. "My dog."
"Why not?" He made his best serious face as he considered the finer points of his plan. "I could stay here, protect the estate, sleep on the furniture when you aren't looking," he glanced up into her eyes, "maybe talk you into rubbing my belly."
She echoed him again. "Rubbing your belly."
He gave her a pretty smile. "I promise to make that thumping noise with my foot." He pulled himself up and faced her, leaning her slowly back into the cushion as he bargained with her. "Come on, Posey... you know you want to." He scattered little kisses over her face.
"Wait a minute... exactly what am I rubbing your belly with?" Posey giggled, bracing her hands on his shoulders.
He gave a dark chuckle. "Yours."
She couldn't keep from sighing a little at his touch, but she held him off with her voice. "I guess that would work for me, but not right now and not on my leather furniture."
Harry stopped, stilling for a moment and then pulling away. "Okay, not on the leather furniture I can understand, but not right now? Are you actually that cruel?"
Posey pulled herself up onto her knees and into his lap, straddling him comfortably, plucking at his buttons. "Not right now... and I think there's a fundamental difference between 'cruel' and what I intend to do to you."
He laughed, his breathing coming just a little faster as he ran his tongue over his smile. "I can't wait... quite literally, I think. Just tell me one thing."
"What's that, love?"
His eyes lit up hopefully. "Will you be wearing the SWAT uniform and boots for the rest of the evening?"
She leaned down, hovering above his kiss for just a moment, feeling his hands run into her hair as she replied.
"God, I hope not."
Continued in Part 8.
