was supposed to have a Winnix Christmas Fic up by now but that's taking its sweet time so have this instead.
a Skilark one-shot based in my his dark materials/dæmon au.
---
Don meets Ilaria first before Skip.
When he thinks of those hot Georgia summers under Sobel's oppressive thumb, he thinks of iridescent red feathers and the fluttering of a little body, zipping and zapping all over the place in a random flight path that never seems to stop or slow down. Almost like a faerie. Or a wilo-wisp in Celtic tales of old. Here to lead him astray into a world of bliss and eternal spring.
The first time Don and Felis step into their assigned barracks, they are nearly driven back out by a ball of excited feathers.
"Hi," says a tiny, joyous voice, so loud and clear for a dæmon of such small size. "I'm Ilaria, this here's Skip."
She lands on a boy with golden hair like a halo and a pair of laughing, whiskey eyes and Don wonders what kind of person would introduce themselves dæmon first.
Skip Muck, that's who.
And Skip sure is something.
Everybody loves Skip, Don finds this out fast. Skip with his smile. Skip with his laugh. Skip with his guitar and warmth that seems to radiate off him in waves, all encompassing and overwhelming like the deep blue of the open ocean. Don had tried to resist in all of the first minute he's in Skip's presence, but the second he saw Felis (tall, distinguished artic hare Felis, with her brown summer coat and steady paws, who's always looked before she lept, whose every word was a word of caution) hop closer, twitch both long ears at attention, and twiddle her nose in the direction of Ilaria's ruby red trail, Don knew he was done for.
So he falls. Without a parachute. Without a safety net. He allows himself to be led away by this boy with the fae like dæmon, and Felis, for once, says nothing and simply follows. She and Don may have much to fight about, but loving Skip Muck is not something they ever had to second guess. In this, they are together.
Even in Bastogne, where all of their humanity goes to slowly freeze and die away. Even there, Skip is the brightest spot of color in a white wasteland, and Don cherishes him for it.
Ilaria barely shimmers-- isn't really allowed to. Anything can give away their position in this snow covered hell-scape, and though the Germans have been very courteous in their observance of dæmon rules (don't shoot, don't touch, don't hurt another soldier's dæmon-- you can kill the body, but never ever mutilate the soul), the stories from wars of old leave them all wide awake in their foxholes, clutching at each other and their dæmons like children under the covers of their beds, hoping against hope. Wishing and wanting and seeking warmth where they could find it.
It really speaks volumes how their dæmons, usually so untouched by the physics of the concrete world, have begun to feel the cold just as keenly as their humans do. The chill of Bastogne has seeped into places deeper than just their bones. Don tucks Felis close, her fur enough to keep most of the harsh weather away, and watches Skip periodically breathe into his hands where Ilaria lay nestled, small body racked with chills, voice barely a ragged whisper, but still moving in tiny little bursts of fluttery excitement, like she can't quite contain herself. Ilaria isn't a songbird, neither is Skip, but Don would give anything to hear them sing again, with Skip strumming at his guitar and Ilaria humming along, as she fluttered around his head. Her lack of freedom to simply be makes him ache. She and Skip weren't made for this harshness, for this stifling cold. They were made to laugh and sing and be joyful out in the open, where the sun will make Ilaria glow. Where it'll make a halo out of Skip's dirty blonde hair.
Don wishes he can give them that. But, alas. All he can give now is himself.
"You alright?" he asks, scooping Felis up to place in his lap so that he can press his side flush against Skip.
Skip shrugs. But manages to smile. Because that's what he's good at, what he's born to do, and Don will never not be in awe of it. "Been better."
"How about Ilaria?" Felis pipes up. Skip's smile widens. Felis doesn't talk much to people other than Don. She likes talking to Skip, though. Of course she does.
Skip lowers his hands so that Ilaria is easily accessible to Felis' twitchy nose. Weakly but with a lot of determination, the hummingbird leans forward and allows the artic hare to lick and nuzzle at her ruby red gorgette and downy white feathers. It sends a trickle of warmth down both Don and Skip's spines. Don turns red. Skip simply grins.
"Scooch," Ilaria orders, getting up from her cradle to clumsily amble into the warm alcove that is Felis' paws and the fur of her chest. Felis, unperturbed, obeys.
Skip laughs. "Well, you heard the little nuisance," he says to Don, grinning. "Scooch."
And Don obeys, wiggling until Skip has his cheek pressed into Don's shoulder, arm hooked around his, legs tangled. Not the most practical position, if one were to be ready to jump into battle at a moment's notice, but goddamnit, was it warm. And just what they needed.
In the nest that they made for themselves in his lap, Ilaria sighs out a breath that almost sounds like song.
Tonight, with their dæmons in his lap and his best friend in his arms, Don is happy. And they are safe.
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“Look at it,” Skip hisses, hand locked tight around the top of Don’s arm. “Just look!”
Don is looking; but his gaze is torn between the glowing skyline and the way the reflection of the city dances in Skip’s wide eyes.
Neither of them are afraid of heights. This is a sort of prerequisite for throwing yourself out of airplanes. If you’ve got a problem with heights, you’ve got a problem with the Airborne, and you should probably find a profession that keeps you closer to the ground. (Skip declares that “no one is actually afraid of being up high — they’re just afraid of falling once they’re up there.” Don really can’t argue with that.)
Still, the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower is something else.
“Wow,” Skip breathes. His voice radiates with all the warmth that was absent in Holland, absent in Britain, absent even now in the chilly air of an early December night. Don cannot feel cold, however. Not when Skip sounds like that, awestruck and filled with wonder, his hand still tight around Don’s arm.
They’re on leave together in Paris, the city they helped free. Here and now, it really feels like they’re at the top of the world. Don tears his eyes away from the glittering skyline to look at Skip’s face again, and is struck with the certainty that anything is possible.
Two kids from Nowhere, America, can meet each other, become best friends, and jump out of planes. They can land in France, make it to Paris, and stand high over the city side by side. They can tell each other anything.
Don takes a deep breath. “Skip, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Skip finally tears his eyes away from the city. When he glances at Don, he looks like he’s not sure if he should smile or not. “I,” he says, then pauses. “Yeah, buddy. Me too.”
“This wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t here to see it,” Don tells him. He brings one hand up to Skip’s back, and claps him on the shoulder. Skip smiles, doing the same, and they wrap their arms around each other.
For a beautiful moment, the entire universe consists of only the two of them, towering above everything else. There is no war, there is no homesickness, there is no fear of death and tomorrow. They are high above everything.
Things you said when you were drunk for Skilark please!!
minific minute meme (NO LONGER ACCEPTING)
Everything about Skip is kind of endearing — from his eyes, his face, the crookedness of his smile, the light freckles that dance along the bridge of his nose. If Don didn’t know him at all, he’s sure he’d want to. As it is, he counts himself lucky to be among Skip’s best friends.
This is definitely a best friend thing. Don can’t think of anyone else he’d sit on his couch and get drunk with on a Tuesday night. (He ignores the fact that Skip has a particular was of getting him to do things he might not for anybody else. Skip always makes him feel like he’s in over his head.) He knows he’s got work tomorrow, and that his boss won’t appreciate him showing up with a raging hangover. Still, he finds himself reclining against the arm of his couch, beer bottle in hand, while Skip drains the dregs of the last one.
His face is flushed when he pulls away. There is a warm, relaxed grin on his face, like a flower drooping in summer heat. “I can always count on you to have the good stuff, Malark.”
“When you need it most,” Don chimes. Skip shrugs, runs the back of his hand over his mouth, and shakes his head.
“I’m not desperate. Jus’ needed a — needed a distraction tonight. Kinda. I guess.”
“You maybe needed a distraction.”
“Possibly,” Skip agrees, and fumbles with the beer bottle. It nearly slips out of his hands. He catches it with a rush of breath, and settles it on the table.
Don leans back. “Do I get to know what it’s about?” he asks, good humored to hide his genuine curiosity. Skip has a healthy appreciation for drinking, but it’s not a safety net for him. Even Don will admit to liking his alcohol a bit too much, but Skip’s never fallen prey to those pitfalls.
He gives an easy shrug, rolling his shoulders, then shakes his head. “Dunno,” he replies. “I guess I just — needed to feel — something. I dunno.”
“Well, I could just pinch you and take care of that, easy,” Don says, and grins. Skip’s laughter bubbles like beer in a glass.
“Aww, you really mean that?”
“Sure I do,” Don says. Skip leans into him, weight falling against his shoulder, and suddenly the smile slips from his face. “Anything, Skip. If I can help... I’ll do anything.”
He does not see Skip sigh, but he hears it, feels the breath agains the bare skin of his bicep. “Nah. I don’t need anythin’,” Skip replies. His voice is lower now, more slurred, like he’s losing himself in thought. “Just... I need to know I’m not alone sometimes. Like no one’s forgettin’ me.”
Skip is not an easy person to forget. “I’d never,” is all Don says. When Skip looks up at him, there’s a look in his eyes that Don doesn’t recognize.
“I wanna feel something,” he says again. “I need to.”
Don wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulders and pulls him close. His hand is warm against Skip’s arm; his stubble tickles the top of Skip’s head.
“You feel me, right? I’m here.”
When Skip exhales, a weight Don didn’t even realize he’d been carrying lifts from his shoulders.
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there’s nothing in between meme and the sky (ACCEPTING)
Who steals the whole fucking blanket in the middle of the night and leaves the other without any?
This is Skip’s bad habit, and he always feels guilty about it. Thankfully, he cuddles in his sleep enough to make up for it, so Don can cope.
Which one is always stubbing their toe and screaming about it?
The amount of curses they’ve learned from each other just from unfortunate toe-smashing incidents are astounding. They’re both pretty clumsy, so it’s unavoidable. (They’re also both alarmingly good at parkouring over furniture whenever necessary -- usually when they’re drunk, or carrying food. Their skill borders on superhuman sometimes.)
Who crashed a car and made the other pick them up at 3AM?
It was Don, it was Saint Patrick’s Day, he was covered in green body paint, and no, he doesn’t want to talk about it. (Skip has pictures.)
Which one is the lightweight that needs to be watched over at all costs?
They’re both well-trained in handling their liquor, and are no slouches when it comes to drunk-and-disorderly antics either -- but when it comes down to it, Don’s the stronger drinker overall. They’re about evenly matched, so they wind up stumbling home slumped against each other more often than not.
Which one likes to get up in the middle of the night and (loudly) make themselves a snack?
Don might be pretty much asleep, in full zombie mode, stumbling, walking into things, and setting stuff on fire, but he will get his damn midnight pop tart if he has to die for it.
Who is always suggesting they get another pet?
They’re not allowed to have pets, because Things Happen. (No one knows where Skip’s gecko was, but they suspect it still haunts their apartment.) They have a large array of pet rocks, and are always looking to add to their family.
Who drinks straight up black coffee and teases the other for their overly-flavored Starbucks?
Don doesn’t have a lot of specific coffee preferences -- as long as it’s got caffeine in it, it’s alright with him. Skip’s not a fancy coffee person either, but he needs an overdose of sugar in his drinkÂ
Which one insists upon buying unheard-of health foods?
Skip will buy really weird stuff just because he’s curious. He and Don then wind up sampling them and gagging later on. The pate was an experience, but nothing compares to the bright green fish eggs. Those were traumatizing.
Which one would run through a busy street just to pet a small dog?
Catch both of them dodging through traffic in pursuit of an adorable fluffy puppy.
Which one always mispronounces words and gets constantly corrected by the other for it?
Skip knows how to speak fluent German -- and Don has no interest in learning. Any time he hears Skip say something in German, he’ll imitate him in the most goofy way possible. Skip rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother to correct him, but he’ll jab something at him in the language he knows Don doesn’t understand.
*rises from the grave with intent* anything for Skilark pls? Skip Muck is my beautiful nutty husband too!!!! ❤️
AN: he needs all the love in the world and more! i wasn’t sure if you wanted regular skilark or spooky skilark, but since i’m still in a very halloween mood, please have some spooky silly vampire skip, from my heart to yours.
The scratching at the window sounds like the dull drone of a buzzsaw. It stretches on for a few seconds, and then stops; just when it seems like it has given up, it starts up again. Scritch-scritch-scritch, over and over, in a shrieky cacophony.
It was sort of funny, for the first half hour.
Don’s convinced that too much of anything can drive you crazy after a while. He and Skip have listened to the same songs on the radio over and over until the opening strains alone make them wince; they’ve eaten pizza and chocolate until they’re ready to puke; they’ve watched TV until their eyes feel ready to fall out of their skulls. He’s got experience behind him, and he knows how easy it is to get sick of things.
He’s not sick of his best friend, by any means. He could never be fed up with Skip. He’s just sick...
Of this.
“Will you stop it?” he finally exclaims. When his head swivels to glare over his shoulder, the scratching cuts off abruptly. “I already told you, I’m not letting you in!”
Skip pouts. He looks a little pathetic, hovering outside Don’s bedroom window like an airplane stuck in a holding pattern. He hasn’t moved for hours now -- all he’s done is float there, trying his darndest to convince Don to let him in. For a while, he tried beg. After that showed no sign of working, he started to whine. Bribery got him nowhere. Finally, he gave up and just started scratching at the glass, as if the sound alone could drive Don to distraction.
The worst thing is, it was almost working.
Now Skip just looks disgruntled, and a little annoyed. “Come on,” he says, for the fifth time tonight. “Please.”
“No. I already told you I have homework.”
“Homework? It’s Halloween!”
“True,” Don retorts, turning back to his laptop. He’s not doing homework; he’s watching cat videos on YouTube. Skip can see this very clearly (Don’s made sure the laptop is visible to him, just so he doesn’t get bored hanging out there), but the point still stands. Don has every intention of getting to his essay eventually, and he knows he won’t be able to do that with his very distracting best friend in the house.
Not that Skip isn’t enough of a distraction outside. He’s very good at making himself noticed when he wants to be. (Incidentally, he’s awful at staying under the radar. It’s hard not to notice Skip.)
As if to prove his point, Skip groans -- loud and long, to the point where Don wonders how he hasn’t run out of air. When he looks back again, he finds Skip blinking at him expectantly, as if his desperation has improved his case at all.
“You’re not coming in,” Don repeats. Skip deflates.
“Come on.”
“No!”
“I can’t come in unless you invite me, so just... let me in! Open the window! That’s all I need! You don’t even have to spell it out for me, I get the idea! Just let me in, Malark!”
Don rolls his eyes so hard that they ache in his skull. “It’s not happening,” he grinds out, shooting Skip a glower that’s on just the right side of annoyed. Skip finally takes the hint. His shoulders slump, and his face falls, revealing genuine disappointment. It’s only for a second, and Don knows Skip doesn’t mean to show it, but it’s just enough to make him feel bad.
Still, he’s got to stick to his guns. He heaves a sigh and turns back to his work. When he glances over his shoulder a moment later, the window is empty.
Peace should be welcome, but the memory of Skip’s disappointed face won’t leave his head. The more he thinks about it, the guiltier he feels. He should have let Skip in. Where was the harm in it? He’s his best friend, and he left him out in the cold. Skip probably didn’t want to be annoying, he probably wasn’t even hungry -- he just wanted to hang out. Still, Don shut him down.
That’s not what Skip deserved.
He bites his lip, frowning down at his bedspread. He could get up and go after him. Skip couldn’t have gotten far. Don could get out of bed, go find his friend, and tell him --
“Guess who’s coming to dinner?” chimes a voice from the doorway.
Don’s head snaps up, and he yelps. “How? How did you get in?”
Skip pushes out of his casual pose, leaning sideways against Don’s doorway with his arm bracing him, and bares his teeth in a wicked grin. It exposes his pointed incisors in a way that makes the hair on Don’s arms stand up. “Your mom let me in,” he says, and sounds thrilled with himself.Â
Don almost groans. His mother’s love for Skip borders on adoration; she could not be more thrilled that her “troublemaker” son has found such a “wonderful boy” to spend all his time with. (Never mind that Skip is a terribly mischievous influence. Don suspects his mother knows this, but is just weak for Skip’s charm. He can’t really blame her.)
Slowly, he sits up in bed. His laptop shuts. Don squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and meets his best friend’s eyes.
Skip pounces.
There’s not much competition when it comes to wrestling with a vampire (unless it’s on a full moon, when Don’s own... canine abilities are at their peak), but Don gives it his best shot. It only takes a few seconds for Skip to get him pinned to the bed, but he can still say he put up a fight.
“Got you,” Skip smirks. Now caught, there’s nothing Don can do but grin defiantly up at his best friend. Mirroring the expression, Skip leans down.
Don’s brain is so shocked by the unexpected move that he doesn’t even realize Skip is kissing him until he feels a sharp nip at his lower lip. He lets out a gasp, opening his mouth unwillingly.Â
When Skip pulls back, there’s a spot of Don’s blood on his lower lip. He licks it off, almost teasingly, and then smirks.
“Tasty,” he hums. “See, that’s all I wanted.”
Don feels breathless, like all the sense has been knocked out of his head in one fell swoop. He’s never known Skip to be merciless, but, well... “So you got it. Are you gonna let me go now?”
Skip considers this, and huffs a dry chuckle before shaking his head. “Maybe in a little while,” he replies, and leans back down again.
Don may not have given Skip permission to enter his house, when he leans up to meet his best friend’s mouth, Skip takes the invitation for what it is.
What about headcanons for Bob ships (with Harry and Kitty) as cop partners? What's their dynamic like? How they deal with hours spend together at night in the car while watching suspects?
I don’t know if you got it my ask, cause I’m always sending from my phone, about headcanons for Bob ships (including Harry and Kitty) as police partners and their dynamic. Can I just add Bill and Frannie and Skip and Don to that?
WINNIX
they’re both detectives, and they’re both good at what they do. but while dick has been steadily climbing through the ranks at his precinct, nix has developed a habit of day-drinking (along with his night-drinking) that’s gotten him demoted from his most recent position.
this puts him back as dick’s partner again, only a week after they were promoted away from each other. the department has figured out that they have two very competent officers on their hands; nixon is at his sharpest when he’s got dick to keep him in line.
as for the two of them, they work together like a house on fire. they’re a fantastic team.
no team is better at figuring out a suspect’s next move, and they rarely fail to get there before their criminal does. they have a fast banter, can read each other without a word, and find that the longer they work together, the more they fall into sync.
dick is good at organizing witnesses, keeping people under control and out of the way. nix is a master negotiator – though it’s not his official job, the department has employed him before to talk down suicidal people, and he’s even diffused several hostage situations.
they enjoy spending time together, even outside of work. neither of them want to start anything because they’re worried about how it would affect their work, but they’d both be very willing to take a chance.
SPEIRTON
they’re the “good cop, bad cop” duo
lip is one of the most even-tempered detectives on the squad. he’s patient enough to last through fifteen-hour-long stakeouts, is willing to listen to all sides of a case, and has a special ability of getting information out of anyone.
speirs is one scary dude, okay? like, he’s terrifying. he’s fantastic at his job. there are all sorts of horror stories flying around the precinct about him losing his temper, arresting witnesses, beating suspects half-to-death – but his actual record is spotless. if any of it happened, no one can prove it.
(lip has seen speirs on the job. he knows he’s got a cool head, doesn’t allow himself to fly off the handle, and has never harmed anyone without cause. he’s even put a stop to excessive force when he sees it; speirs hates abuses of power.)
he has killed a suspect, but only after he pulled a gun on them. it was an experience that affected him greatly. lip had to reassure him: “if you didn’t do it, i would have had to. otherwise one of us wouldn’t be standing here today. you did the right thing, ron.”
lip helps speirs see the humanity in the job. it keeps him from becoming cold, robotic, from forgetting what’s important – their job is to protect people.
speirs reminds lip what strength looks like – and that you do not have to be ruthless to be brave.
speirs does absolutely crazy shit on the job, and gets reprimanded for it all the time, but lip was the one who ran through sniper fire to reach a group of trapped middle school kids. he got chewed out both by his department and by ron, but it was worth it.
(”don’t do that again,” ron says in the isolation of the squad car afterwards, intense gaze piercing lip’s own. “i thought i lost you.”
the sentence sounds so intimate that lip does not know how to feel.)
BABEROE
babe is a rookie cop, following in his best friend bill’s footsteps. he’s eager, excitable, and enthusiastic about doing his job.
gene – who has been on the force for years, and was very content working with spina, until spina decided to move down to texas and race cows – isn’t sure how he wound up getting stuck with a partner like babe, but he’s not sure what to make of him.
babe gets to drive approximately once. he nearly crashes the car three times, and gene declares he’s never getting the chance again. it’s a struggle not to kill him on the first day on the job. the only thing that stops gene is knowing he’d probably get caught.
(that, and he’s a good person. regrettably.)
gene isn’t very active in the field, but he runs fast as anything. he once runs through fire to reach a group of civilians trapped behind a car, dodging bullets from all sides, and babe swears he’s never seen anything more incredible in his life.
so he kind of idolizes gene a little. he just has so much more experience, and is such an enigma. there’s so much he can learn from gene, and babe is determined to absorb everything he can. he wants to figure out everything about his partner... because that’s the best way to work together, right?
for his part, gene is a little confused by babe’s cheerful blabbering (his constant, constant blabbering) but is willing to put up with it. babe means well, anyhow. given time, gene’s sure he’ll grow into a great cop.
WEBGOTT
webster isn’t even a cop, okay
he’s a journalist who’s undergone police training and is assigned to shadow a cop duo for a few weeks. he’s got the basic police training, but isn’t an actual cop.
he’s assigned to liebgott and his partner tipper. tipper is a talkative guy who used to live in ireland, and has dozens of interesting stories. webster gets along with him very well, and gets endless material for his article.
liebgott is more difficult. he’s close-lipped and abrasive. the only time he really acknowledges webster is to be exasperated by him, or throw back a sarcastic comment that leaves him feeling stung.
he’s on his last week of the job when they get caught up in a shootout.
things are wild. bullets are flying back and forth, it’s the most terrifying experience of webster’s life. the back of the police car is completely riddled with bullets, and it webster had been in the car, he wouldn’t have survived.Â
thankfully, he and both officers are out of the car. liebgott orders him back while tipper begins shooting.
then tipper goes down with a shot through the eye, and things get really crazy from there.
liebgott freaks out as the suspect runs away. he takes just enough time to stabilize tipper, who’s remarkably still alive, and wait for backup to arrive on the scene, before he jumps back in the car. having no better ideas, webster goes with him.
webster sees several new sides of liebgott that day. he’s used to the sardonic, wisecracking, hotblooded officer who’d not afraid to confront suspects head-on.
seeing liebgott comfort his partner reveals a caring, protective side webster hasn’t realized he possessed; but the man driving this car is an angel of vengeance. liebgott’s eyes are blazing. he is a lethal weapon, zipping through the streets in pursuit of the suspect.
when he has the man in his sights, he accelerates. it’s obvious that liebgott is going to run him down.
“don’t do this,” web gasps. “joe, you don’t want this, you don’t want to have this on your conscience…”
“you don’t know what i want!” spits liebgott, but he doesn’t step on the gas. webster reaches over, laying a hand on his own, and the car begins to decelerate.
then the suspect raises his gun towards the car.
webster is the one who takes the suspect down. one shot, fired into the suspect’s knee, and the man goes crumpling to the pavement. liebgott doesn’t have blood on his hands.
(webster has never fired a gun in his life, and he really wasn’t supposed to do that, but he saved the day. joe gains a new respect for him after that. when web’s tenure as liebgott’s shadow ends, liebgott gives him his number and tells him he’d “really like to read that article of yours.”)
LUZTOYE
they seem like such opposites that it’s kind of amazing they work so well together as partners.
picture the ideal buddy cop duo. you got luztoye in a nutshell.
joe is serious about what he does, and he’s damn good at it. he’s been shot at on the job more times than he can count, hit three times, had a ladder dropped on him, got into a fistfight with a suspect, and was shoved out a window. he’s literally known in the precinct as “toye the invincible.”
(luz came up with “toyeminator”, but joe smacked him for that one.)
luz, meanwhile, doesn’t take things as seriously. he’s fantastic at the people part of his job. he’s good at diffusing hostile situations, putting people at ease, and talking people down. he’s also fast, and has take down suspects by speed alone.
their dynamic is a firey one, but they make it work. joe has to yell at luz for doing something stupid as often as luz yells at joe for being stubborn and taking risks. they reel each other in and keep from getting too hurt on the job.
off the job is a different story. they can hurt each other plenty, in the bedroom and outside of it. no matter what happens off duty, they never bring it up on the job.
george might flirt, joe might roll his eyes (and pretend he isn’t flirting back), but that’s their usual dynamic. they’re not about to start anything serious -- whatever complications that might bring, they don’t need to bring it on the job with them.
HARTY
no one can actually prove that harry and kitty are married, but they’re married.
it happened in vegas, of course. harry was wearing his police dress blues, kitty wore a wedding dress she bought in the hotel lobby. they came back home and told no one at work about it. hell, they barely even told their own families.
if people know they’re married, they’re going to be split up. harry and kitty have been partners since the day their careers began, and the idea of splitting up is unimaginable to them.
they’ve also been head over heels for each other since they sat down in a squad car side by side. what they’re doing might be against department law, but anything is worth it for love.
harry is reckless and absurdly lucky on the job. it tends to work out in his favor, but kitty is the one who tempers him and keeps him from flying off the handle.
kitty is quick-witted and smart, unafraid to get close to a suspect in order to neutralize them. she’s put herself in the line of fire more than once, but always has a backup plan. she has an edge of recklessness in the same vein as harry, but likes to think she’s more levelheaded.
eventually, someone is going to figure out that their relationship isn’t just “very friendly partners”. their friends are pretty certain they know what’s going on already, but they won’t rat them out. for now, harry and kitty are just doing their jobs, and doing their bests.
FRILL
they’re both scarily competent officers, natural leaders who know what they’re doing and how to get it done in the best way possible. they’re not afraid to take risks in the field and do whatever it takes to get the job done.
fran is a sure-shot, and can fast talk her way around any suspect. bill is more the muscle, but he’s great at intimidation, and has a fantastic tackle.
their banter is also legendary. if bill wasn’t head over heels in love with fran, they’d make a perfect buddy cop duo.
unfortunately, it’s not that easy. see, bill is in love with fran. he’s convinced they’re meant to be together, knows fran likes him back, and takes every chance he gets to hit on her.
(if she wanted him to stop, he would. if he wasn’t sure she also liked him, he would never be so forceful – but one night after work, following a round of tequila shots, led to very drunken kiss from fran. when she declared, “i’ve wanted to do that for so fuckin’ long,” bill was sold. unfortunately, she refused to discuss it the next day.)
fran is determined that there is nothing going on, and nothing will go on. she’s not going to do a workplace relationship. those are messy, complicated, and painful. she’s not going to be like harry and kitty from drug enforcement (who are “so married.” “are you kidding me? have you seen that rock on kitty’s finger? they’re married as hell.” “it was vegas.” “it had to be in vegas.”)
one day, bill is determined he’ll wear her down. for now, he’ll settle with their comfortable flirtation, and they’ll keep doing their jobs like the damn great cops they are.
SKILARK
they’re the donut cops.
they know it’s a stereotype, okay? they know and they don’t care. faye, who works at the local dunkin’ donuts, is always happy to give them a discount, and she brews great coffee. they’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
(on the plus side, their squad car always smells like strawberry creme. it’s cool.)
they keep up a running banter with penkala, who works as beleaguered dispatcher. he acts pretty exasperated with everyone, but skip is convinced the two of them are his favorites. (this isn’t hard. everybody, even some of their suspects, gets along with skip.)
they tend to get into a bit of mischief on the job. once don “requisitioned” someone’s motorcycle to chase down a pair of fleeing bank robbers, and got chewed out over it. if skip hadn’t come to his defense, he would have gotten into a lot more trouble than he did.
when skip gets shot on the job, don’s entire world changes.
they’ve always been the partnersÂ
he’s not killed, but he is taken off the force for good. his recovery is a long, slow process. while don is by his side every step of the way, he becomes disillusioned with the police in general. he no longer wants to be a cop after seeing how it hurt skip.
eventually, he quits the force. when skip hears, he takes the news solemnly. he doesn’t blame him.
“we made one hell of a team while it lasted, buddy,” he says, and if the hug don gives him lasts a bit too long, neither of them says anything about it.
