Nothing Special (Nothing Special 1)

I did shit-dick, but someone can’t take no for an answer.

Day didn’t bother voicing his response as he sipped his hot coffee, refusing to let this man ruin his Zen feeling. Detective Johnson was far from an ugly man, actually he was fucking stunning, but he was also pompous and not Day’s type. The man really thought he could have whatever he wanted because he had a trust fund.

“You gave me that number and said you didn’t mind me calling you.” He propped one arm up on the cabinet next to Day’s head. His cinnamon breath was wafting down on top of him… and into my motherfucking cup of coffee.

“I know I said you could call me, but there are two explanations for that. Now either I was lying… or I was wrong about the number of explanations.” Day smirked and took another sip.

“That slick mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” Detective Johnson turned his lip up at him. The man really couldn’t take a damn hint.

He had Day up against the counter with only a hair of breathing room between them. Day could’ve easily gotten out of there, but he liked fucking with the smug detective. Detective Johnson was a ballistics expert who went from precinct to precinct assisting on cases where needed. Obviously Cap had called him in to assist with the guns that were recovered during their recent bust.

“Well, umm, I gotta get back to the grind. Wouldn’t want you to tell Daddy I’m slacking off.” Day gently set his cup of coffee on the counter, spun, and ducked under the detective’s arm before the man could blink twice. Day grabbed his mug and made his way to the other side of the room.

“So me and you, dinner this weekend?” Detective Johnson said to Day's back.

Day snorted, while grabbing a muffin for God.

“So is that a no, Day?”

“That’s a fuck no.” Day opened the door and left the room. He could hear Detective Johnson’s curses as he walked away.

Day made his way through the office and when he was a few feet away from their desk, he tossed God the blueberry muffin. God looked at him for a few seconds, using their soundless communication.

“You’re welcome,” Day said, dropping down in his chair. He took another long gulp before releasing a deep breath. He cracked his neck on both sides and leveled his hazel eyes on his partner. “So you ready to do the nasty, God?” he asked him with complete seriousness.

“As ready as I’m gonna be. Give it to me, baby,” God replied with a frustrated huff.

Day began downloading the multitude of forms and printing them out to be completed. God groaned at all the papers printing on their small desktop printer. “Uhhh, fuckin’ paperwork… shit! Hate it!” God all but yelled.

Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

After two hours of paperwork, they were both exhausted and Day felt like he’d been rubbing his eyes with sandpaper.

Day heard God clearing his throat before he coughed again. “I’m going to stop by the convenience store on the corner and grab some cough drops,” God said.

“Good, I want some coffee,” Day groaned as he reclined in God’s comfortable truck.

“Of course,” God replied between coughs.

“You all right, dude? You have been coughing like that for over a week.” Day kept his eyes closed while he spoke.

“I’m good. I think it’s just allergies,” God said with a shrug.

Day didn’t think anything else about it. God was as stubborn as a mule, especially when it came to his health or, heaven forbid, going to see a doctor. He couldn’t even recall the last time his partner had a checkup. Not even after his biceps got cut by a perp they arrested last year. Day had tried to convince him he needed stitches, but God insisted it was just a flesh wound—the jagged scar was still very visible.

God jerked into the parking space and slammed on the brakes right before his front bumper came into contact with the brick wall.

“Jesus, man. You trying to kill us?” Day huffed. “You don’t always have to drive like you're auditioning for the Grand Prix.”

“Stop bitching, Miss Daisy. If you don’t like my driving, you can always ride that crotch rocket to work,” God replied with an annoyed expression.

“Whatever. Let’s just hurry up.” Day made his way into the small store right behind God’s massive figure. Before the overhead cowbell could stop ringing, Day asked the clerk, “You got a fresh pot back there?”

“Yes. Just started it five minutes ago,” the clerk replied with a thick Asian accent.

“Good man.” Day made his way to the back of the store. God turned down the cold medicine aisle.

Day hummed as he poured the steaming brew into the largest cup the store had and popped open about fifteen creamers. Day liked his coffee with a lot of cream and sugar, and he wasn’t ashamed to open a ton of the mini-servings until his cup was just right.