Third Watch, Five and a Sawbuck
Nov. 28th, 2001 08:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveI'm stil tweaking this, because the middle section seems muddled. But, you know, enjoy. No sex. ;-)
He was pretty sure that he'd been assured that if he dated guys, he wouldn't have to deal with being hen-pecked. Somebody owed him his money back.
"So. How'd you like the weather?" he asked, casually.
Bobby looked at him in disbelief. "Weather?"
"We could talk about the Yankees...but aren't you a Giants fan? I'd hate to have to drop you."
"Don't drop me," Bobby said, half-casually, half-breathlessly.
"I'm not gonna drop you," Bosco told him, this time in a serious tone. He didn't think Bobby thought he might - but now was not the time to tease him...too much...about being dropped. Bosco had his grip on Bobby's wrists, and Bobby had a hold of Bosco's wrists as well, though Bos could tell the hold on his right wrist wasn't as firm as they both would have liked it to be.
Neither of them was suggesting Bobby adjust his grip. They could deal, until someone got up here to help.
That should be any time, right? Kim and Yokas hadn't left all that long ago, to take the girl down to the ambulance. She'd been hysterical, not quite up to dealing with being dragged up to a rooftop by a stranger, to be mugged or assaulted or whatever it was the weasely, half-deranged guy had intended. Bosco didn't really blame her, but if it hadn't taken both Kim and Yokas - the young woman hadn't wanted any man near her, uniform or not - to take her down, Bosco might at least have had Yokas here to help hang on, or call for backup and *then* hang on.
Weasel had been holding the girl on the edge of the roof, right up on the wall. He'd shouted at them when Bosco and Yokas had arrived, but somehow they'd talked him into shoving the girl towards them, rather than away. Off the roof. Exit Kim and Yokas, and leave it to Bosco to talk the guy down. When they'd realised the guy was bleeding from what looked like a stab wound to the arm, Bobby had stepped in front of Bosco to do the 'I'm a good guy and I can't arrest you' routine.
Half-deranged Weasel had let Bobby near enough to take a look at his wound, then grabbed him. Bosco had jumped forward, and everything slowed down. Advanced, frame by frame in time with his heartbeats, as Weasel pulled Bobby towards him and Bobby flew over the edge of the parapet. Bosco had leapt forward to grab at Bobby's hands; Weasel let go and ran; Bosco had let him. Hadn't even thought about glancing back to see which way he ran, because he was going over the edge and he'd only managed to grab one of Bobby's hands.
He'd hit the wall, stayed on the roof, and for a few longs seconds, Bobby had swung like a pendulum at the end of Bosco's arm. He'd finally reached up with his other hand and taken a hold of Bosco's right wrist, frantically clinging as soon as he felt the contact instead of giving himself an extra heartbeat to get a good grip. Bosco couldn't blame him, but he also didn't want to have to feel that millimeter by millimeter slip of the hand.
He knew he wasn't going to let go of Bobby's wrists. But if Bobby lost his grip, even one, he'd probably freak. Bosco really didn't feel like trying to talk him into calming down, dangling in mid-air.
So where was back-up? Hadn't anyone looked up to see them hanging around?
He was pretty sure that he'd been assured that if he dated guys, he wouldn't have to deal with being hen-pecked. Somebody owed him his money back.
"So. How'd you like the weather?" he asked, casually.
Bobby looked at him in disbelief. "Weather?"
"We could talk about the Yankees...but aren't you a Giants fan? I'd hate to have to drop you."
"Don't drop me," Bobby said, half-casually, half-breathlessly.
"I'm not gonna drop you," Bosco told him, this time in a serious tone. He didn't think Bobby thought he might - but now was not the time to tease him...too much...about being dropped. Bosco had his grip on Bobby's wrists, and Bobby had a hold of Bosco's wrists as well, though Bos could tell the hold on his right wrist wasn't as firm as they both would have liked it to be.
Neither of them was suggesting Bobby adjust his grip. They could deal, until someone got up here to help.
That should be any time, right? Kim and Yokas hadn't left all that long ago, to take the girl down to the ambulance. She'd been hysterical, not quite up to dealing with being dragged up to a rooftop by a stranger, to be mugged or assaulted or whatever it was the weasely, half-deranged guy had intended. Bosco didn't really blame her, but if it hadn't taken both Kim and Yokas - the young woman hadn't wanted any man near her, uniform or not - to take her down, Bosco might at least have had Yokas here to help hang on, or call for backup and *then* hang on.
Weasel had been holding the girl on the edge of the roof, right up on the wall. He'd shouted at them when Bosco and Yokas had arrived, but somehow they'd talked him into shoving the girl towards them, rather than away. Off the roof. Exit Kim and Yokas, and leave it to Bosco to talk the guy down. When they'd realised the guy was bleeding from what looked like a stab wound to the arm, Bobby had stepped in front of Bosco to do the 'I'm a good guy and I can't arrest you' routine.
Half-deranged Weasel had let Bobby near enough to take a look at his wound, then grabbed him. Bosco had jumped forward, and everything slowed down. Advanced, frame by frame in time with his heartbeats, as Weasel pulled Bobby towards him and Bobby flew over the edge of the parapet. Bosco had leapt forward to grab at Bobby's hands; Weasel let go and ran; Bosco had let him. Hadn't even thought about glancing back to see which way he ran, because he was going over the edge and he'd only managed to grab one of Bobby's hands.
He'd hit the wall, stayed on the roof, and for a few longs seconds, Bobby had swung like a pendulum at the end of Bosco's arm. He'd finally reached up with his other hand and taken a hold of Bosco's right wrist, frantically clinging as soon as he felt the contact instead of giving himself an extra heartbeat to get a good grip. Bosco couldn't blame him, but he also didn't want to have to feel that millimeter by millimeter slip of the hand.
He knew he wasn't going to let go of Bobby's wrists. But if Bobby lost his grip, even one, he'd probably freak. Bosco really didn't feel like trying to talk him into calming down, dangling in mid-air.
So where was back-up? Hadn't anyone looked up to see them hanging around?