Chapter Text
Tony’s broke as hell and it’s Friday night. He can’t go to the bar or the club, but he figures he has enough to buy a twelve pack of beer. He gets to the grocery store and she’s just standing there in the booze aisle. She has a basket full of food, and Tony wonders why she didn’t get a cart. She’s probably an impulse shopper. Tony snorts and turns back to his own selection.
His snort draws her attention and she looks over at him. She smiles at him, and Tony doesn’t know why but he smiles back. He’s not really in the habit of picking up girls at the grocery store and she’s definitely not his type. She’s wearing a green tank top and a long blue and white skirt. Her brown hair is sorta frizzy, but she has it pulled back as a pony tail at the nape of her neck. She’s kinda pretty though, and she almost looks familiar.
“Can’t decide,” she says, just as their eyes meet.
Tony spots a package of sausage in her basket. “Something mexican would go well with the chorizo,” he says, pulling the twelve pack he wants out of the cooler and shows it to her.
She scrunches her nose, which okay, is sort of adorable. “They only have twelve packs though. I really only drink a bottle at once and it’ll take me forever to finish.”
“Never bad to have beer around,” he says.
Now she snorts. “Maybe I should just invite you over, and we can share.”
Tony only shrugs. “Whatever you’re making sure looks a whole helluva lot better than what I’m having.” He waves the frozen meal at her.
“Now I have to invite you over,” she says, shaking her head at him. “I cannot in good conscience let someone over twenty eat a tv dinner.”
Tony laughs a little, smiling at her. “You always invite strange guys over to feed them?”
“No,” she says. She raises a single eyebrow while she looks him up and down. Tony knows she likes what she sees. “But you’re special.”
“Special, huh?” he asks. “Why’m I special.”
“Well, you’re bringing the beer. And you’re going to help me cook.”
“Am I?” Tony can’t see it--he barely even boils water.
“Yeah,” she says. “You are. I’m Beatrix by the way.”
“Tony.” He holds out his hand and they shake.
And the next thing Tony really knows is they’ve gone through checkout together, and then they’re in his beat up truck and Beatrix is giving him directions to her apartment.
She tells him to pull into the spot marked 308, and then they walk up the steps because an elderly couple is waiting on the elevator. When Beatrix gets him into the stairwell, she explains, “Not only is the elevator tiny, but they smell like cat pee.”
“Fuck, that’s gross,” says Tony. “Thanks for steering me away from that.”
“No worries,” she says as she trots up the stairs in front of him.
She has a nice ass, Tony thinks, as he watches her jog.
She has a nice everything, actually. Tony’s sort of glad that he went home with her and he wonders if he’s going to get laid tonight.
Beatrix unlocks her front door and kicks off her sandals by the front door. Her apartment is a studio, but it’s pretty big. She has enough room for a couch and a chair, and she has two walls almost covered with books. Her kitchen is separated by a wall on one side, with a window into the “living room,” and then a kind of counter that cuts off the space in front of her bed. She has a double bed, Tony notices. Easily big enough for two people.
“Make yourself at home,” she says, as she heads into the kitchen.
Tony takes off his shoes, but only because she did. He follows her into her kitchen, where she’s unpacking her two shopping bags. “I hope you know I can’t actually cook,” he says.
“You say that now,” says Beatrix, as she pulls a knife and cutting board out of one of her drawers.
“You’ll say it after,” says Tony.
When Beatrix laughs, she becomes absolutely beautiful. Oh yeah, Tony’s definitely going to get laid tonight. And Tony wants to get laid. But he also wants to make Beatrix laugh again and watch that beautiful smile light up her face.
So he listens to her when she says just to stir the chorizo around while it browns--not to fast, because you won’t give it enough time to cook--but not too slow, otherwise it burns. She’s cutting up artichokes, peppers, onions and a helluva lotta other stuff Tony didn’t think he realized until this moment just doesn’t come on pizza. She tells him to drain off some of the oil the chorizo makes and then throws in the peppers and onions in his pan, telling him to keep stirring. Tony’s stomach starts to growl, and Beatrix is pounding the hell out of some croutons.
Eventually they mix everything together, stuff them into the artichokes, top it with cheese, and leave them to bake for 20 minutes. Tony realizes, when Beatrix hands him a beer, that he hasn’t touched one all night. He didn’t--he hadn’t known nights could be like this. That he could enjoy something so mundane, so ritual--and he had. He enjoyed every moment of cooking and trying to make Beatrix laugh again. And nothing was burned. So far.
Tony sits on the couch next to Beatrix, who is fiddling with Netflix on her tv. “You have a table in this place?” he asks.
“I have one in the closet that folds out for when my dad and sister come over,” she says, looking up at him. “Mostly for my dad who insists on eating at a table. Mostly if I have anyone my own age over they’re fine eating in here.” Beatrix brightens and jumps to her feet. “Or sometimes, on very special occasions...”
She pulls him to his feet and drags him over to the wall on the other side of her bed. It turns out there’s a small sliding glass door, that both of them have to duck under to get out of. But then they’re on this tiny little patio--it’s not a fire escape, not really, because that connects to a window in the kitchen off all places.
The patio is just the smallest bit of concrete and tile. Beatrix has a few plants sitting on the patio rail, which is a foot wide mosaic. She’s also managed to fit two wicker patio chairs, both covered with cushions and a small table and still have some room left to maneuver.
As they step out the sun’s just starting to set.
“It’s amazing--my favorite part of the whole apartment,” she says. And she smiles--soft, not laughing out loud. Tony still wants to kiss her. He resists. You can spoil a perfectly good girl by kissing her too soon. Tony thinks Beatrix is the kind of girl who wants to kiss you and not the other way around.
She flops down in one of the chairs and Tony does the same. “So I know nothing about you,” she says.
Tony thinks this is dangerous. Usually once girls find out too much about him they usually leave. “You haven’t asked me anything,” he says.
“Well, what do you do? Like for a living?” she asks.
Tony takes a long pull of his beer. “Iron work,” he says at last. Because he hasn’t been on a lot of jobs lately, so steel working is mostly true.
She nods at him. No judgement, no face making, just a solid nod. “I bet that’s hard.”
“Machine’s do most of the heavy lifting,” he says. “It’s a paycheck.”
Beatrix shrugs a little with a shy smile. “Nothing wrong with honest, hard work.”
Most people when they hear he does Iron work assume that he’s stupid. And Tony’s not. He’s not. But Beatrix doesn’t. And that’s when Tony thinks that he may want to sleep with her, not just get laid. “What do you do?” he asks.
“I’m a CSI,” she says, smile lighting up her face. And shit, that’s a huge red flag and Tony should just get out now. But that smile keeps drawing him back in. Besides, it’s not like he has to ever see her again after tonight.
“You like it?” he asks, taking another pull of beer.
“Well, my coworkers are shit, but I like the actual work,” says Beatrix wrinkling her nose.
“Really?” Tony laughed a little, mostly at the face she makes.
“Really--the cops all call me lab rat and make fun of me. The other CSIs treat me like a scapegoat. If someone doesn’t want to be on call, somehow mysteriously I always end up with the calls on the weekend.” She shrugs. “I mean, the overtime is pretty great, but I am starting to really hate getting woken up at 6 am on Saturday after I’ve already been working for 6 days.”
Beatrix talks, not so much at length, but just to fill the air. She asks him questions, Tony answers, and this goes back and forth until the oven timer beeps. She brings him a plate of stuffed artichoke and another beer--Tony likes that. The idea of his girl bringing him dinner and a beer. His girl--Tony likes that idea even better.
The lapse into an easy silence as they eat. The sky’s starting to grow dark, and when they’re done Beatrix has to flick on her porch light so that they can see each other. She rests her feet on the little table next to their empty plates. Tony watches while she flexes them and absently realizes that her feet must hurt.
He moves his chair forward a little so that he can take her feet in his hands. Beatrix cocks her head a little but says nothing. Tony moves his thumbs along the pads of her feet, digging into the muscles there. Beatrix groans and tenses just a little. He rubs them out until she relaxes under his hands. Stopping after he can feel the tension flee her, he asks, “Better?”
“Much better,” she says, taking back her feet. Then she gives him a look.
Beatrix gives him a look Tony knows well. It’s a look where her eyes are half lidded, but still her pupils are blown wide, and a smile sits easy on her face. It’s no surprise when she takes a single step out of her chair to cross the patio and crawl into his lap. Tony wraps his arms around her as they begin to kiss.
She feels so good in his arms--soft and warm and all woman. Tony enjoys the way Beatrix shivers as he runs his hands underneath her tank top and up her skirt. He enjoys the way her long fingers trail across his abs and arms. He likes the way their mouths fit together, tongues trailing across one another. As his fingers trail across the soft lace of her panties Beatrix pulls back with a gasp. He rubs her there, teasing her slit for a few minutes. Beatrix leans forward wrapping her arms around Tony’s shoulders, breathing heavy in his ear and squirming in his lap. She collects herself enough to bite and suckle on Tony’s neck. Tony never tells anyone--but he always likes it when girls do that.
It’s her teeth on his neck that makes him feel like he might cum in his pants. He slides his hands to her thighs and picks her up. Beatrix just wraps her legs around his waist, and kisses him when he nudges her with his nose. He carries her into her apartment, laying her down on the bed and settling on top of her.
Beatrix tugs at his shirt, and Tony breaks off, lifting his hands so she can pull it above his head. As he straddles her, he pulls at the soft fabric of her tank, and grinning says, “Your turn, babe.”
She grins, sitting up and letting him slid it over her head. Tony holds her there so he can undo her bra strap. He fumbles a little, the clasps getting caught on the hooks. Beatrix doesn’t laugh or mock him. As she presses kisses into his chest, she reaches behind herself and seamlessly undoes the fasteners, letting him slip the bra off her shoulders and toss it onto the floor beside the bed.
Tony leans down and mouths at one of her breasts, suckling and kissing it, as he kneads the other with his hand. The way Beatrix moans sends shivers down his spine. Tony might actually pray to God to give thanks for whatever grace he's been given, because he’s done nothing to deserve this.
He trails kisses down her belly until he gets to her skirt. Tony could pull that off, but right now he’s after her panties, so he just flips the offending fabric up and grips those lacy panties until they slide down her legs. Beatrix gasps a little at the exposure, but even more so when he licks at her wet slit. Then she’s panting and whining and moaning as he eats her wet pussy. She’s a little salty and it stinks a little, but it stinks just right, like pussy should. It doesn’t smell like mangos or some nonsense like Tony had smelled before.
Beatrix digs her fingers into Tony’s hair mussing it but also pulling him further into her body. He lets his hands steadfast grip her hips to at least hold those into place, but those hands show him just how greedy, just how wanting she is right now. He lifts his face from her pussy and crawls on top of her. “You want me, babe? Want me to fuck you?”
“God, Tony, yes, please,” she says. “Want you to fuck me so bad.”
Tony unbuckles his belt and then undoes his jeans, button and zipper in one fell swoop. As he slides out of them, Beatrix wriggles out of her skirt and goes rummaging through her bedside table to pull up a condom. Once Tony shucks his boxers, he takes it from her and slides it onto his cock.
He pins her down, hands on hips as he slides inside, both of them moaning from the contact.
“God, babe, you feel so good,” says Tony, as he moves his hips so slowly, back and forth.
Beatrix pressed herself back into the mattress. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Tony fucks--but he’s not rough about it, like he is sometimes. Usually he likes to fuck a girl at least once before he takes her rough and hard--he wants to make sure she likes that and isn’t going to call the cops on him. For right now he fucks her even--not to fast, not too slow. Beatrix seems to like the way he pumps his hips inside of her. She has her legs wrapped around him again, and she’s reached down to stroke her clit as he fucks her.
Beatrix is starting to look blissed out. It’s a good look for her. As beautiful as she is, she looks amazing and amazed right now, blissed out from getting fucked, from being so close to cumming. Tony leans down to kiss her again. She meets him halfway, free hand trailing in the short hairs on his neck.
She moans thru the kiss and keeps moaning for a good minute--her hand all the while works faster down below. Tony assumes that she came and begins to fuck a little faster now. Ever since some chick told him in high school that most girls fake it with a guy, he always makes sure she cums--it’s why he eats out. No girl would fake it with him. Ever. He made sure.
“Did you come?” Tony asks.
“Yeah,” she says, as she reaches up with her other hand to brace herself on his shoulders. “You can go faster if you want--I’m so wet right now, you won’t hurt me.”
Tony grunts a little, but speeds up. He is really quite close, and the woman beneath him just gave him permission to fuck her faster. Her cunt is clenching around his cock--riding out the aftermath of orgasm, and that just makes the fucking better. He grunts a little more, and Beatrix’s breath is hitching. When Tony slams home she gasps, nails digging into his shoulders.
They stay connected for a minute, both catching their breath. When he’s ready to pull back she says, “Hold on.”
“Wha’s a matter?” he asks.
“No, I mean hold onto your dick,” she says, as she folds an arm under her neck. “So the condom doesn’t get stuck.”
“Oh.” Tony furrows a brow at her. “That happens?”
Beatrix nods. “Yeah, it happens. And I’d rather it didn’t happen to me again. So. Hold on while you pull out, m’kay?”
Tony grins but does as she asks. As he’s knotting the rubber and throwing it in the trash, he asks, “So that really happened, huh?”
“One of the worst nights of my adult life,” says Beatrix.
When he turns back, she’s turning down her sheets and comforter. She pats the space next to her on the bed. Tony saunters over, picking up his briefs as he goes.
“Pass me my panties, please?” she says, leaning off the bed to get her tank top. She comes back with his shirt which she pulls over her head indiscriminately.
Tony tosses her her panties as he slips into bed. “So what’s the worst?” he asks, clarifying, “what’s the worst night of your life if getting a condom stuck was only one of them.”
She hums, settling against him as she pulls the sheets up around them. “Worst night as an adult was definitely the time some of my hall mates invited me to a rave, and then left me there. I had to walk five miles to campus in heels wearing this dress that pretty much didn’t cover anything except my torso.”
“I’d like to see you in that dress,” says Tony with a grin.
Beatrix punches his shoulder. “Yeah well--it was nearly April, but it was still well after midnight, so it was pitch dark and so cold. I swear I was almost blue when I got back to the dorms. I thought I was gonna die or get raped or something, and the fear kept me up for the rest of the day, even when I was safe.”
Tony runs his fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp in a comforting gesture. “But that still wasn’t the worst night ever, just the worst night as an adult.” He has no idea why he pursues the topic. Probably because he likes listening to her talk, and he can’t think of what else to say. But he feels Beatrix stiffen against him, he regrets it. “Forget it, I’m sorry. You don’t have to say.”
Beatrix relaxes. “If we have a second date I’ll probably tell you eventually. It’s just, it’s heavy.”
“Not the sort of thing you tell a hook up?” Tony asks, looking down into her eyes.
“Not the sort of thing I talk about if I can avoid it,” says Beatrix. She reaches out and kisses his neck. “Not with anybody.”
Tony’s never felt so good to be not special. “‘Kay,” he says, kissing her. He meant to reach for her mouth, but somehow ends up kissing her forehead, like they’re kids or something. There’s plenty of stuff he doesn’t tell anyone--about prison, about his old man, about a lot. He gets it, he does. So he kisses her forehead again and then reaches down to peck at her mouth. He looks up and says, “So where’s the lights in this place?”
Beatrix giggles a little. “By the kitchen.”
There are three light switches on the wall of the kitchen threshold, and Tony spends some time flipping through them before the studio goes completely dark--save for the light out on Beatrix’s patio. He finds that one on the way back to the bed, and he and Beatrix settle in. Tony falls asleep to the sound of her even breathing.
Beatrix wakes before the sun, still in Tony’s arms. Her bladder’s full of beer, and she desperately needs to release herself, but Tony has a tight grip. She, with some wiggling, manages to worm her way out of his grip, but has to give up his shirt to do so. Which is fine, because this is her apartment and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get to walk around mostly nude.
She pees and returns to the main room. Tony looks up at her from where he’s reclined on her bed. His eyes go a little wide as he says, “well, hello.”
“Hello there,” says Beatrix as she climbs back onto the bed. She leans over to kiss him, and Tony’s hands instant gravitate to her bare breasts, cradling them in his hands. Beatrix likes having her breasts fondled, she discovers, as she straddles Tony. She rubs her panty clad bottom, getting increasingly wet, against his brief clad cock. The sensation is amazing.
Tony must think so too. He flips her over and snatches off their underwear. Breaking their kiss, he asks, “Condom?”
She tries to reach out for the drawer of her bed side table, but doesn’t quite make it with 200 pounds of man on top of her. Tony reaches out in her stead and digs around before he holds up a condom. Grinning he rips it open and slips it onto his cock.
Beatrix pulls him down for a kiss as he slips inside of her. “Fuck,” she gasps out. She must be sensitive because of last night because this feels so much more intense. “Fuck me, Tony.”
“Want me to plow you, babe?” Tony grins at her, picking up the pace a little.
“Fucking plow me, Tony!” Beatrix wraps her arm around him, digging her nails into his back.
Tony, meanwhile, pulls her legs up to get better leverage and pumps his hips faster and faster. “God you’re amazing. Fuck, Trix, God, you’re so fucking amazing.”
“Tony...” Beatrix moans as he fucks into her. “Oh God, Tony, this feels so fucking good. You feel so fucking good.”
Endearments fade to moans and panting--Tony is lasting a lot longer than he did last night. But then again, they didn’t really need much foreplay and he’s cum within the past 24 hours.
Beatrix feels something bubbling up inside of her. It’s not quite an orgasm, but it’s similar enough. She’s only ever squirted once before so it comes as something of a surprise when she does so all over Tony and her bed.
“Fuck, babe,” says Tony over a little laugh. “Yeah, I guess you do like it. Gonna do it again?”
“I dunno, that’s never happened with someone else before,” she says. “But, oh fuck--Tony!”
Tony leans down to suckle on her neck, and Beatrix presses back against him, wiggling in his grasp. Tony moves his hands, calloused fingers and palms ghosting on her skin, from her thighs to her hips where he holds her down, pressing her into the mattress. Beatrix feels a little faint, but not in a bad way, she feels almost a little like she’s on the edge of an orgasm, but she can’t go over the edge and she’s holding on for dear life to Tony so she can’t even reach down to touch her clit. Beatrix isn’t sure she would want to.
Tony slams home into her and gives a small grunt. He holds himself inside of her as he cums. Beatrix wonders for a moment what it would feel like to feel his cum emptying in her. Tony lets his cock sit inside her for a moment as he leans into her kissing her. They’re kitten-lick type kisses, more pecks than make out kisses. Beatrix presses back, sometimes on his mouth, sometimes on the cheek or jaw. Tony doesn’t seem to mind.
They move onto their sides, and one of Tony’s hands slide from her hip to clit, rubbing it gently.
“Don’t think I’m going to cum,” Beatrix mumbles against his mouth. “I’m too keyed up.”
“S’okay,” says Tony. “We’ve got time. N’ I wanna make sure you do.”
Tony slides his other hand up to her breasts and kneads the flesh in his hand. He suckles at her neck and rubs her clit--and god it's so good, but it’s so much. Beatrix can feel herself building up, but she plateaus out right before she would normally cum. Her clit is so sensitive, and Tony rubs it just right. Beatrix out right whines when she feels the orgasm start to build up but she just can’t cum.
“Easy, babe, easy,” says Tony right on her ear. He takes one of her breasts in his mouth and suckles at her nipple.
“Tony, Tony, please,” she says through moans and pants and whines.
“I’ll get you there, babe, I’ll get you there.”
When she finally gets pushed over the edge to climax, Beatrix whimpers and then can’t stop making noise. Mostly it constitutes muttering “Oh fuck,” over and over again, until her voice gets caught in her throat. Tony keeps rubbing her clit until the wave of orgasm dies down and she turns into a puddle of Beatrix on the bed. It’s then that Tony pulls out, eliciting one last whimper from her.
When he stands to dispose of the condom, instead of crawling back into bed, Tony wanders in her kitchen. He rummages around in the cupboards and the refrigerator until he comes up with a frying pan, butter, eggs and the left over artichokes. Beatrix wonders what he’s doing, but boneless as she is, she can’t do more than raise her head right now.
He comes back with a plate--there’s a stuffed artichoke steaming from the microwave and a sunny side up egg place on top of each half. He hands her a fork, and Beatrix manages to sit up and take it from him. “Thank you,” she says, pressing a short kiss to his mouth. “And here I thought you couldn’t cook.”
“I can reheat supper and fry an egg, sure,” he says around a bite of food.
“Don’t forget you helped me make supper,” she says.
Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, whatever.”
Beatrix just grins at him as she munches on the yoke covered chorizo and artichoke.
Her phone rings from the bedside table and Beatrix leaves the plate in Tony’s hand as she reaches out to grab it. Cpt. Singh’s picture shows up on her lock screen, so she makes sure to swallow before she answers and says, “Good morning, Captain.”
“Morning,” he says. “Are you on call today?”
“I wasn’t yesterday when I checked the weekend schedule.” Beatrix rolls her eyes and wonders where would be a good place to hide poop near Wesson’s lab station.
“Hmm...that’s what I thought. In fact, I’m looking at the weekend on call schedule I got yesterday and you’re nowhere on it,” says Singh. “But when I called Wesson and checked the schedule that was posted today, there you were. You wanna come in and process a scene? It’s a hit and run, so it should be quick, and you’ll get paid for the whole day.”
“Where’s the crime scene?” she asks.
“5th and Morrison,” says Singh.
“That’s right by my apartment, so I should be able to get there in 20,” she says. As she says this, Tony leans over and starts licking her collarbone. She playfully pushes him away, only for him to come right back to it.
“Are you sure you’ll only need 20 minutes?” Singh asks.
“I’m budgeting in time to get dressed and kick my boyfriend out--it’s a five minute walk from where I live,” Beatrix explains.
“Oh, so now I’m your boyfriend?” Tony asks.
She can hear Singh rolling his eyes. “Allen, I really don’t want to know.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” says Beatrix.
“See you there, Allen,” says Singh.
Beatrix has no doubt that Singh will actually be at the crime scene--probably in fifteen minutes so he can time her. She takes a large bite of egg, chorizo and artichoke and rises from the bed, heading into the bathroom. She pees and wipes herself down with a wet washcloth.
“You’re really going to work?” Tony asks.
“Yeah,” says Beatrix.
“Weren’t you just complaining about this last night?” Tony appears in the bathroom doorway, scooting past her to use the toilette.
“Well yea, but I’m still getting paid, like, $170 for going to work for 2 hours,” says Beatrix.
Tony stops midstream and stares at her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” she says. “Time and a half for the whole day. It adds up.”
Tony shakes his head and keeps peeing. “I’m in the wrong damn business,” he says. “You mind if I shower real quick? Since we got fifteen minutes? I’ll drive you.”
Beatrix kisses him, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Sure.”
Beatrix pads around her apartment cleaning up. She makes the bed, rather haphazardly, then puts all of her clothes in the laundry basket while laying Tony’s out on the bed. She has one of Joe’s old shirts in the closet, so she lays that out, in case he doesn’t want to wear the shirt she wore to bed and they might have had sex on. She dresses quickly, and is just pulling on a dress shirt when Tony comes out of the bathroom, running a towel over his body. God, he looks even better wet. She bites her lip and focuses on buttoning her shirt.
Tony only laughs at her. “Well, if someone didn’t insist on going to work, we could have had sex again.” He picks up the green Henley lying on the bed. “This for me?”
“Yes,” she says, debating on wearing a blazer. It’s been in the seventies the past week, and so she’ll be baking if she does. Her shirt is opaque, though, so that should be fine. She tucks it into her trousers and pulls on a pair of leather tennis shoes that look just professional enough, but means they won’t be murder on feet.
When she turns around to face Tony, he’s dressed and fiddling with her phone. “‘M texting myself,” he says, waving the phone at her.
“Oh,” she says. She was honestly glad he took the initiative, even if he did it without asking. She was always horrible about asking for second dates. Beatrix goes about making sure she has her kit and her keys, the noise of which summons Tony to his feet.
They walk to the elevator banks, which are mercifully empty, and ride down to Tony’s truck in a companionable silence. Beatrix even reaches out to take Tony’s hand. He blinks when she does, but doesn’t pull away.
He starts up his beater and gets her to the crime scene a full minute before she had promised Captain Sing she would be there.
“Thank you for doing this,” she says.
“Thank you for dinner,” he says.
Beatrix moves to get the door handle, when Tony calls her back with a soft, “Hey.”
“Hey what?” says Beatrix, or tries to say, but Tony is kissing her. And wow--if she has forgotten how well he kisses, she is reminded in this moment.
He pulls away after a moment, licking his lips. “I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yes,” she says. She presses a peck to his mouth and says, “But for now I gotta go.”
“Go solve crime,” he says. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
Beatrix flushes at the cat calls she receives when she steps out of Tony’s truck and walks over to the crime scene.
“If he’s not your boyfriend, he should be,” says Singh, a grin on his face. “You’re here on time.”
Beatrix can’t contain her eye roll--and it’s a good thing she’s known David Singh since she was a kid, because the Captain wouldn’t take shit like that from everyone.
Singh mostly stands back and watches her work. There's a detective on the scene already and Beatrix gives them a run down on the scene--but there’s still some evidence to process and she’s gonna have to do a full write up. The detective says that there’s enough to get started with what will probably be a very short investigation and waves her off. The Captain offers her a ride back to the station, and Beatrix feels a little like she just got called into the principal’s office.
She desperately wants to ask if she’s done something wrong and wonders if this will be another lecture on punctuality. Instead, the captain asks, “How long has this been going on?”
Beatrix’s brows furrow, and so Singh clarifies, “How long have you been doing on call for the other CSIs when they were supposed to be on duty.”
Beatrix has to think. It wasn’t right away when she started, but it’s been a while. “I’d have to check my pay stubs, but it’s been a few months, I think.”
“So you have been getting paid for the time then?” asks Singh. “That’s one thing at least. You have any idea why this is happening?”
Beatrix shrugs. “Maybe because of Joe or my mom? I’ve known a lot of people in this precinct since I was a kid. Maybe some people think there’s some nepotism at play. But I know none of the other starting CSIs here or at the precincts near by have had this happen to them more than once or twice in the months they’ve been working. More of a learn to pull your weight sort of thing.”
“Making you work every weekend for months is another thing, however,” says Singh. “At least you’ve been getting paid for it so that’s something, but...” He shakes his head. “I’ll look into it with Fletcher--she’s the one that draws up the schedule, she needs to know that people are changing it.”
Beatrix holds her tongue to prevent herself from saying that Fletcher doesn’t like her either and probably doesn’t care that the other CSIs are doing stuff like this.
True to Beatrix’s estimate, she only spends about two hours total processing the scene. She runs into Joe on her way out. “Hiya,” she says.
“Hey, Bear,” he says. “I thought you weren't on call today.”
“Wesson couldn't make it in, so I came in instead,” she says. “I just finished up and Singh says it looks like I’m in the clear, so I was going to vamoose before they could find more for me to do.”
“Not a bad plan,” he says. “Hey, Iris is gonna pull her head out of her internship for the evening, wanna join us for dinner?”
“Sure!” Beatrix winces at how chipper she sounds.
Joe notices too, because he takes a step back and squints at her. “Now, wait just one minute, Beatrix Nora. What’s got you in such a good mood?”
“Can’t a girl have a good day?” she asks, really wishing that they weren’t in the middle of the precinct foyer.
“Well, you could, but now that I think about it, Meyers was telling me about how a strange guy dropped you off at your crime scene.” Joe wiggled his eyebrows at her, which was always a disturbing sight. “So, I gotta ask, as your dad, when do I get to meet this young man?”
“We just had a first date, Joe,” she says, wilting under his affectionate gaze. “At least let us get a little traction before you try to grind the whole thing to a halt.”
“Hey now.” Joe pinches her side. “I’m just looking out for my babies, that’s all.”
“I know...” Beatrix gives him her best puppy dog eyes, which are not as good as Iris’ but still pretty effective. “But, please, give me a little time to figure out if I even want to introduce him to you and Iris.”
“Alright, baby,” he says. He gives her a hug and then directs her to the door. “Now get out of here, okay?”
“See you tonight, Joe,” she says.
Beatrix checks her phone for the first time since she got to work. Tony texted her about an hour ago to ask how things were going and if she wanted to get lunch. She texts back to say that she’s done now, and if he still wants to meet up for lunch they can.
Tony texts back saying that he could eat.