Most of the gifts had been opened, food had been eaten and all in all it had been an uneventful evening, as it should be.
He'd still taken the time to shave his stubble though. Had to impress the lady, even if she was married to his partner. Bashir, that slimeball, wasn't the only one with good skin! Not that he had anything to do with Marcos choice... he just suddenly enjoyed shaving... really...
The livingroom stank of greasy food and sweet wine, that Marco and Dominic hadn't touched. But neither had Bashir, which was odd since Marco had dragged his drunk arse home more than once. Damned that politician for bringing some great, expensive bottles of wine, from a small local winery in France! Who did he think he was anyway?
The guy didn't even eat meat! What the hell kind of a man doesn't eat meat?! Meat makes the man!
Marco was still on high alert around Bashir, now more than ever. That guy was harder to catch off- guard than an oiled lightning. When he spun a trap, Bashir evaded it. When he started fishing, the politician turned it around. Every single anecdote, hidden morale and every little trick he tried that bloody Bashir wormed himself out of it.
Good thing Dominic was busy with his pretty wife, or he'd probably arrested his partner for acting like a freak.
Everyone knew politicians bathed in shit, and ate it for every meal. But that's the price one pays for leading. And this politician did his best to rub Marco the wrong way, without saying anything wrong.
But he did, and the most annoying thing was that Marco couldn't even put his finger on it. It was so tiny and incospicious that the fewest would notice. It wasn't just what he did, but what he didn't do. He smiled at the perfect places, gave the perfect diplomatic answeres, seemed interested in the exact right spot. Not one strange little pull in the corner of his mouth, not to little eyebrow wiggling, nothing.
He didn't say to little, and didn't say to much. Charmed Rye and Joe all over again, Nanette was giggling already and even Dominic liked him. Someone else might have questioned themselves, but Marco was blessed with a massive ego, and luckily a bit of selfirony.
If it walks like a duck.... well, Bashir did look a bit like a duck... he didn't get what women saw in him at all. He looked like a scrawny little duckling.
It was a bit interesting too, even if he hated admitting it to himself. It was rare that anyone challenged his witts. Especially someone that gave him a bad feeling. They usually spilled everything in a matter of hours, sometimes even minuts. But this little duckling..... Marco knew well what he wanted with Bashir; spill whatever it was that made his senses go on high alert. But what the hell did that guy want with him?
Bashir knew he was suspicious. Those overly innocent smiles, the way those smiles never reached those icecold eyes, and that chilling voice that nearly put the fire out. Maybe that was the problem with him. A man is supposed to have fire in his eyes, but his just had coldness in them. Marco usually didn't think about mens eyes to often to be honest. Bashir had light eyes, but so did Joe and he didn't have that emptiness.
Come to think about it, maybe Bashir was trying to see how far he could pull his bullshit? Or, to see how professional the force was? After all, if Marco started investigating him on a hunch, the force would loose credibility. And he would get demotet. But how would that gain Bashir in whatever he was doing? He couldn't possibly be doing this for sport, could he?
Nanette seemed fascinated with Bashir, and did her best not to pretend she wasn't. If she flirted more with him now, Marco would punch him since Dominic didn't seem to mind his wife acting that way. On the other hand, he was french so maybe he actually was fine with it. Nanette on the other hand was german or something wasn't she?
They had met eacother when she had worked as a fishersim, before they moved to Jericho.
What do you politicians do all day? You're so slim that my initial idea of you all eating cake and drink coffe can't be the case. Nanette asked Bashir, traces of that hard language still beeing heard.
He smiled that politician way: There's very little cake Nanette, but a lot of coffe. She smiled to politely at that, wasn't Dominic going to react soon? Marco wanted give Bashir a beating atleast. He couldn't believe they had actually been friends once.
We're politicians after all, he gave a thin ironic smile with a lot of hidden acid in it: not cops.
If he had to hear one more donutloving cop joke, he'd crush that jerks jaw...
Dominic acted nothing in civilian, as when he was in a uniform, he didn't even seem to mind the hidden donut- joke.
Come on Dom, it was a donut- joke.... Marco tried to telepathically get him angry at Bashir. You hate those as much as I do!!! But his partner seemed blocked to Marcos lack of telepath- skills.
Nanette got the joke and said with humour in her voice: Well, you politicians do sit and drink coffe all day then?
That would explain that bony body atleast, everyone knew what coffe did to the stomach.
We mostly have a lot of meetings, and even more paperwork. I'm sure you've heard about comitees that has to decide everything? You need a meeting for that too.... He still sounded like a politician, with a politicians idea of "humour"... What an idiot..
I seem to remember there was accusations of corruption in the Jericho gouvernment some years ago. Nanette suddenly whipped out that from nowhere, turned out she was a copswife anyway: The mayor got a new position, but whatever happened with the accusations?
Marco hoped he spilled something, but doubted it would happen.
Smirking, Marco looked at Bashir. Let's see him worm himself out of that one....
A very unfortunate incident, he said with that glazed voice. But it was before my time. Crap... He kept forgetting that Nanette was older than them. He just kept sliming himself away didn't he? It was a bit impressive to.
But, Bashir continued. Clearly he wasn't done yet, it's the police that investigates these things. Not the countyhall. So if he didn't get prosecuted, it stopped somewhere along their lines.
What an arse... implying that the police were corrupt! They were not corrupt! Everyone he worked with had more honour that that piece of shit would ever own!
The good thing though, was that Nanette clearly had managed to rub him the wrong way. It was possible then.
Nanette didn't seem to impressed either. Looks like Bashir lost himself an admirer for a small time atleast.
Unfortunately it wouldn't be the first time, he continued. Quite a few years ago, they were payed to look the other way in the case of a double- homicide. He smirked and went: The victims were murderers themselves, but that's quite an ammount of channels within lawenforcement accepted bribery. It even happened inside the prison, and none of the guards there seemed to notice.
She seemed a bit more interested now, so obviously Bashir got his admirer back.
FUCK!! It rang through Marcos head in all it's secret silence. How the hell did he know that?
It had been gruesome murders, the "victims" flesh ripped off their limbs. The few that were still attached to their bodies that was. None of the other inmates cared since the so called victims were pedoes, but for some reason they still deserved justice.
And as clever as the murderer had been, the suspicion had soon fallen on his own dad. No one else would have been capable of something like that anyway. But they hadn't had any evidence, and then all of a sudden they closed the investigation and the once working on it had taken an early retirement.
It was long past the expirationdate now ofcourse, but he couldn't ignore the fact that such an ammount of money, most likely had come from uncle Marek. And dad had made sure no one could trace it.
Marco had looked into it himself, and it was the only explanation. But if nothing can be proven, it might as well not have happened.
Bashir knew, he could see it in his eyes, in that viscious smirk. And if that came out, dad and uncle Marek would get in trouble for bribery and other economic crimes, because that never expired! Economic crimes were important after all, unlike murdercases and rapecharges.
Was that the ones that raped and tortured that girl? Joe had as the rest of them, grown up with that horror story.
Not that Marco had mentioned it was his dads sister ofcourse, no one had ever told him that. He figured it out on his own.
Yeah, that's the ones. Marco answered. It might have been a huge case back then, but nowadays it was getting more common. Mostly agains working girls, but civilians weren't spared either. Marco had seen his share of those type of crimes. In general criminals seemed to get more violent, so it really wasn't a surprise that cops were beeing shoved full of weapons.
Whoever killed them deserves a medal. Rye said.
Those types of sims doesn't deserve life anyway. Joe finished it. Him and Dominic should probably be protesting right now, but they weren't technically working. Just on support call, incase the ones down at the station needed more help.
I'm sure those things doesn't happen anymore. Bashir was still a piece of shit, and seemed like he was talking about the bribery. But he meant the payback for violent crimes.
He still had that irritating smirk: The policeforce of today are hardworking, and I'm certain all of your coworkers uphold the law.
Marco was the only one sitting close enough to see that short gleam in those cold eyes. He mentioned his co- workers, not him. Looking at him under heavy eyelids didn't make matters better. That snake had more venom in him than.... Actually, comparing him to snake was an insult to snakes. After all, they served a purpose. That piece of sh... right, even dung served more purpose than that.... argh. Marcos poetsoul tended to run away whenever he needed it.
So what if he'd beaten one perv, or five? He liked beating pedoes, and so did Dominic! He only beat those who wouldn't get caught, and a couple of others... or ten.... maybe a few more... Besides he got away with it. Well, kind got away with it.... He'd been relocated from that part of the force pretty quickly. Maybe he'd gotten a complaint or twenty... pluss a few more...., but as long as Dominic had his back it was all well.
Marco was a lucky bastard after all and tended to always land on his feet.
They're a great bunch, very loyal. Marco said, answering his implication; loyal to their fellow officers, not some bony politician. No way in hell would he back off from that worm! He wanted Bashir to know, that he understood that he knew.
Dominic always speaks well of the policeforce here. Nanette interrupted their silent argument. He worked as a cop back in France... she sighed a laughter: It was such a tiny little place, but he still had that SIG sauer. I thought the police here only used tazers, so I was shocked when I heard that arsenal! Her dialect bore slight traces of her german heritage, but it was a dulled down type.
You're correct on that Nanette, but the law was changed a while back. I believe Dominic and Marco here are the first generation of police not having to apply using firearms. Bashir matched the icy outside.
I had no idea you were that interested in policebusiness, Marco said to Bashir. He could pretend beeing polite to, even if he wanted to plant his fist in the middle of that smug duckface.
A politician have to keep up to date, the quick answer came back.
If he slapped him around a bit, no one would care right?
It wasn't that tiny Nette! Dominic said, once I had to stop that boy that took mademoiselle Fleurs fresh bakery! She had been the village original, but all in all was harmless.
You just wanted those croissants for yourself, she laughed. And it was a bird that stole them!
Don't blame me for beeing a magnet for little old ladies.... or birds. Besides, it wasn't a bird, t'was a chev... horse! And it was an angry horse!
As angry as fraülein Fleur when she thought you ate them....
Good thing the french police was a pretty tough bunch.
For once Marco agreed with Bashir, that look said it all. How the hell had Dominic survived coming from some tiny crossaint village, to this place? Come to think of it, how had they even ended up here? Maybe the cop training never leave your system, no matter how lazy days one has?
As much as Marco would ....love... hearing more about Fraülein Fleur and her croissants, he excused himself with joy when he heard a knock on the door. He already knew who it was, as that carsound was quite distinct. Hell, he couldn't even call that a car.
Fraülein Fleurs crossaints... sounded like a pornflick.
He saw her through the frosted window, studying the shades and drawings in the stonewall. It was strange she hadn't forgotten why she was there in the first place.
Atleast she'd gotten out of that boring beige top. He could wear beige, because he looked good in it. And it was beige, not "that lighbrownish, skincoloured yellowlike thing" as Dominic called it. How could it be so difficult to remember colours? Maybe Dom was colourblind.
He didn't get why she didn't just open the door herself, and walked in. For some reason she seemed to think it wasn't her home anylonger. Dad had never truly accepted that his babygirl had moved out.
Cold wind swept through the room as the door closed behind her, a shy click sealing the fresh air outside. It wouldn't take long before the already old air, would swallow the new airs attempt at conquering the livingroom.
Happy snowflake day, Oriana said with tired voice as she entered the hallway. Is daddy home? She was such a daddys girl.
Marco repeated her initial greeting, he wasn't a huge fan of snowflake day but didn't mind it either: Mum and dad are at uncle Mareks.
Why couldn't she just spit out what he already knew was coming?
Another type of cold swept through the house, as Bashirs voice continued to do it's best to irritate him. Marco swore that guy would eventually make him loose his mild temper. He was mild!
Trying to look over his shoulder, Oriana did her best to sate her curiosity. Pointless, since there was an entire wall in the way: Is that Bashir you've got in there? She sounded as wondering as he'd felt inviting him.
Stop walking around the porridge... Marco was getting tired of beeing on high alert. He was supposed to be relaxing today. The last thing he needed was his sister trying to change the subject.
What porridge? Fake innocence covering her voice, she was a horrible liar.
He closed his eyes and hid a sigh. Not that he usually had a problem fixing things, but it got old once in a while. Men liked fixing things, that's why they punched eacother: You've left your husband and need a place to stay. You just wanted to check that mum and dad wasn't home first, because it's easier to tell me than them. With "them" he meant mum. She really wanted grandkids.
How did you....? Oriana was at a loss of words.
He can't always be right around the corner, and never be seen Ori. That was obvious, wasn't it? She really was terrible at drawing logical conclusions, which was strange since her IQ wasn't exactely low.
It wasn't a difficult task surprising or impressing his sister, but she still looked startled. She even started stuttering at a loss of words: I've stayed with Vera the entire time. But it's getting... you know... No he didn't. Joe and him roomied, and no one cared about that. Why did women always have to be so damn complicated?
Welcome to the club of the divorced then, he halfsmiled. Guess we're both to horrible to keep anyone. The worst thing was that he understood why no one could handle any of them in the end.
Oriana rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't really keep a smile away. She should have known Marco wouldn't judge her, he'd been through pretty much the same anyway.
Dad already had a room made just for his daughter, in case she wanted to come home. He'd never truly accepted that she wasn't his little babygirl anymore. Just getting him to get rid of her old teddybear had been a smaller war.
Come on, he patted her to heavy on the shoulder: I'll introduce you to my partner and his wife. She seemed relieved to not be the only woman prensent.
Hi Oriana, the mutual sound of not to thrilled people surrounded her. She hadn't wanted to move back home, but she didn't have anywhere else to go. She was such an airhead that she wasn't capable of keeping a job for too long anyway....
Nanette seems nice enough, Oriana thought to herself, completely oblivious to the look Bashir sent her way.
Great, Marco thought as he noticed the short gleam in Bashirs eyes. Now he would have to try talking sense into his airhead sister. Bashir was all bad news.
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Poses by Aikea Guinea, Sunny, Dill, Sea and TheaiNyx. And no offence to any french people out there.
Just imagine that the faces Marco and Bashir pull at eachother are very short and quick. No one else notices them! And the last pic of Bashir on his own was pointless adding, but he had a perfect wtf face, that couldn't be replicated with Marco.
Oriana is the last co- ruler. I contemplated for a long time having Rye moving in, but I honestly don't think I have the energy to make a story about three single guys right now, Marco is more than enough. I also thought about making Orianas breakup more dramatic, but figured what the hell? Every little thing doesn't have to be so over the top. I like it calm and simple, and now Oriana and Marco has something in common :)
And yes, Marco is corrupt, misusing his badge and so on. But it's not his idea of corruption (very important). One of his traits is: lucky, so I wanted to find a way to have it in the story other than that little moodboost. So why not add a little streak of darkness to him? Originally he wasn't supposed to be very nice either way.
Thanks for reading
