dolevalan | 15 minute fic, word 155

Title: Ye Fiery Footed Steeds
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG

He hated stakeouts. Certainly, he understood their necessity, and Greenbaum had given him more than one lecture about the need to properly observe a place and a man before acting. But his fingers itched whenever they cased a joint. He couldn’t help it. Greenbaum had just sighed to himself in that infuriating avuncular way. Damn him.

While he watched the play of shadows on the warehouse windows, the sunset flashing in and out of the reflection, he tried to remember the Juliet speech. “Come night…come gentle night…gallop apace…” Something. He should make himself memorize it for these situations. Out of context, true, but they were both waiting for murderers, weren’t they?

He shifted, careful not to crack any joints as he did, but meanwhile trying to keep his legs from falling asleep. He was crouched low enough that a man on the street would be hard-pressed to spot him, but he was close enough to give effective fire cover if necessary. Regular cops on the ground, sure, but far enough away that it would take a couple minutes. Hard to preserve stealth if the place was crawling with badges. His fingers drummed against the cool metal of the barrel, the sensation grounding him a little.

There was a part of him that suspected they’d been fed a false lead. The two of them had been here for hours, Greenbaum ready to go in the moment it was prudent, Arthur poised for backup. They had known dusk was a likely time for the exchange; the uncertain light made visibility touch and go, and Arthur kept his eyes moving to avoid focusing on any one spot too hard. His mind kept moving too, and among the half-remembered quotations and the plans for the following evening, Greenbaum’s words mixed in.

It’s not enough to be physically still during a casing, kid. Ya gotta be still in your head too. Waiting - one of the least glamorous and most effective skills I can teach you, if you let yourself learn it.

Mentally, Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn’t need a lecture. He needed a partner that began to trust him after he’d proved what a quick study he was. He was a full detective now, even if Greenbaum was still his superior. And he was restless in more ways than one.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped to the corner of the building adjacent to a small alley, not far from where Greenbaum was waiting. A heavily built redheaded man slipped out in a black trenchcoat, his hair neon in the fading blaze of the sun over the lake. He looked around, and Arthur’s eyes narrowed. This had to be the guy. He eased himself into position, ready to nail him at the slightest wrong move. HQ might have wanted him alive…but that, as always, was a secondary consideration.