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gonerunningaway) wrote2012-08-30 05:07 am
gonerunningaway) wrote2012-08-30 05:07 am
Tide-Water Dogs, Chapter Twenty
Title: Tide-Water Dogs, Chapter Twenty
Fandom: The Departed
Rating: NC-17
Word Count (this chapter): 1,685
Warnings this chapter (highlight to view): Homophobia.
Chapter Twenty
People are whispering.
Not everyone, and Sean’s only actually seen a couple of actually-whispering people, but he’s a cop, and a damn good one at that. He can make inferences about changed behavior toward him.
He hasn’t worked out exactly why, but he has a suspicion. Now that he’s made it clear to Robert that he’s fine with touching, there have been a lot more quick public touches, mostly on the arm or back, and greeting kisses, some of which have happened in bars. The second time it was in a bar, the next table over went quiet, and Sean just gave the guys there a hard stare until they looked away and picked their conversation back up. That’s been his technique the other couple of times it’s been an issue, but mostly it hasn’t; it’s Boston, and not that many people seem to care.
That doesn’t apply, though, to the Massachusetts State Police in general. While his job is safe, protected by law and policy, it can’t stop people from passing rumors, probably based on someone or a couple of someones seeing him out with Robert. He can’t prove it, but given he hasn’t pulled a personal coup in an investigation lately—he wouldn’t possibly have time to investigate something on his own; Undercover eats up all his regular work hours and more—he can’t think of a hell of a lot of reasons anyone would give enough of a shit about him to act differently. Normally, that’s how he likes it: if they leave him alone, he’s not tempted to punch anyone in the face.
Today, it’s making him uneasy that there’s no one besides Queenan he can talk to, and Queenan doesn’t get involved in gossip. He’s too busy and too professional for it.
No one asks him though, not from when he gets to the department, gets coffee, and goes to Queenan’s office. No one says anything directly to him, which is perfectly usual and mutual, and doesn’t give him pause. It’s that fucking whispering that does.
He doesn’t bring it up to Queenan, though, and he won’t without a solid reason. Instead, he says, “What’s on the schedule?”
“Olson is getting an early release,” Queenan says. “I found out this morning. He’ll be out tomorrow. He knows to call us with updates as soon as he has a single thing, even an in. If luck goes our way, we’ll meet with him next week.”
Sean nods, mentally sticking Olson into the spot he vacated with Costello. “Who are we meeting today?”
“I have Connelly at three. Before that, Brown, and we’re both meeting with White Collar in an hour about putting someone into an art smuggling ring. We’re advising them on how to pick someone.”
“I have to write up yesterday’s meeting,” Sean says. “I’ll be back in forty-five.”
Queenan nods. He’s already on something else. Sean absolutely cannot imagine having Queenan’s job, dealing with the brass while managing all the undercovers. For one thing, it means Queenan has to deal with him and Ellerby both, and there’s a shit combination if one ever existed.
It’s not that Ellerby’s a bad person. It’s that he’s an absolute shit cop who thinks he’s good because he’s made staff sergeant, but anyone who can read can pass the tests. Ellerby’s in it for show and the power of the badge, and Sean knows it, and Ellerby knows he knows it. His clean record means jack shit to Sean. He’s been a paper-pusher almost his entire career, and he somehow lucked into SIU. Sean’s reasonably sure someone owed him a favor for that transfer to happen.
Sean sips his coffee while he writes up his notes in Silverman’s file. Silverman has seen forged birth certificates and passed on Social Security numbers he memorized, also fake. Sex Crimes should be serving the warrant the next day, assuming it gets signed, and once they have solid evidence and make arrests, Silverman’s file can be opened and he can complete his actual transfer; it’s even more deserved now than when they pulled him.
The meeting is, as meetings go, not terrible. Granted, it’s Sean, Queenan, and Captain Peterson crammed into Peterson’s office just beside the White Collar bullpen, but Peterson is efficient about his questions. Sean offers his input from his position of being almost a year out, while Queenan gives seasoned opinions on what sort of person would work best. They’re done in under an hour. When they’re leaving Peterson’s office, Easley catches Sean’s eye and gives him a look that has to mean something, complete with raised eyebrows, but Sean can’t answer a question he only suspects is being asked. He meets Easley’s eyes but doesn’t nod, shrug, anything, in case he’s wrong.
Since Sean spends a lot of time in his office or Queenan’s, discussing their undercovers, he doesn’t have to interact with other people a whole lot. He does have to leave to get coffee or water and to go to lunch, though.
Miller joins him, matching his pace. “People are talking about you,” he says in an undertone.
“I fucking figured that much out.”
“Chynoweth says he saw you with some guy, touching each other.” At Sean’s look, Miller adds, “Personally, I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s true, but you know what cops are like. Protected by the blue line unless you betray it, and some assholes think being gay is a betrayal, makes the badge look bad.”
Sean gives Miller a considering look, then nods. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem. A bunch of us agree it’s no one’s business except yours and the guy’s.” He shrugs. “Drinks on Thursday night, Fox and Crow, if you want to come.”
So Miller means it about not giving a fuck. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll be there.”
Miller nods and peels away to go talk to Levy, who glances past him to Sean and smiles, almost encouragingly. He nods to her and reaches the stairs a moment later.
The inevitable happens when Sean’s on his way back to his office from making sure he’s signed up for the sergeants’ exam. He’s passing the bullpen when he comes to Ellerby, who asks, “Is it true you’re a homo, Dignam?”
Sean cocks his head. “Is it true you can’t get it up unless your wife puts her hair in pigtails?” The temptation to just punch him is there, but he doesn’t have cause for it. Let Ellerby keep talking, and maybe he’ll get it.
“Ellerby,” Miller says when Ellerby opens his mouth, and he’s the same rank as Ellerby, so at least he’ll make a decent witness if things get interesting, “don’t be an asshole.”
“Fuck yourself,” Ellerby says to Miller, but he doesn’t push Sean.
He’s just going to have to keep getting asked, though, or have people speculate, so Sean goes against all his instincts of privacy and says, “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, Ellerby, but yeah, I’m fucking a guy.”
Ellerby’s expression, his mouth agape and his eyes disbelieving, makes it worth the fact that all of SIU is going to think Sean is gay within half an hour.
Sure enough, Figueroa, who wasn’t even in the bullpen, knocks on Sean’s office door after he and Queenan get back from meeting with Brown and sticks his head in without being invited. “That took balls.”
Sean flicks his eyes up. “Maybe that’s part of the problem with the department. No one’s willing to say what’s on their fucking minds unless they’re assholes like Ellerby.”
Figueroa snorts. “You’re going to get all kinds of shit.”
“You think many troopers are going to say anything to me?” Sean asks, and he’s genuinely interested.
Figueroa hesitates before answering. “There’s a lot of respect from working Costello, yeah, but probably not enough.”
Sean shrugs. “If it comes down to it, I have a mean right and a better left.”
He laughs. “Nice to know. Some of us are on your side, anyway.”
“Miller said the same thing.”
“That was before you came out.”
Yeah, that’s what he did, isn’t it? “Same ones on my side?”
“A few more now, actually, mostly because of the balls it took and a few because Ellerby was the one to ask.”
“How did such an incompetent fuck make sergeant?” Sean wonders, and Figueroa laughs, lifting a hand before he leaves.
Figueroa’s right, he knows. There’s going to be his own personal shitstorm. But he knew that going into dating Robert, before he even knew if it’d be worth risking said shit. It’s nothing he can’t handle.
Queenan gets back from his meeting with Connelly as Sean’s getting ready to leave. He comes into Sean’s office and asks, “In front of the SIU bullpen, Sean?”
Sean shrugs on his blazer. “It’s where Ellerby asked, Captain.”
“It’s better than lying,” Queenan allows. “If it comes to it, you have my support.”
“I think we’re best off asking your wife to come down here if it comes to it.”
Queenan smiles. “I’d prefer she not have to come manage a group of children. Try not to rise to anyone’s bait.”
“Unless someone calls me a faggot to my face, I’ll hold off on the sucker punches,” he promises.
“I can try to protect you from a suspension if that happens, but I can’t promise it, Sean.”
He shrugs. “I know. Besides, Figueroa and Miller both said there are cops on my side.”
Queenan nods. “Good. I’d rather not see a black mark on your record as a result of someone else’s actions.”
“My union rep could get it removed if it’s due to harassment,” Sean says, reasonably, he thinks.
“Maybe.” Queenan gives him a steady look. “The brass won’t be sympathetic. Just hold your temper.”
Sean nods. “I’ll see you in the morning, Captain.” He brushes by Queenan as he leaves his office, stopping only to lock the door.
“Sean.”
He looks at him.
“It takes nerve to do the right thing. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir.” That makes it even more worth it than Ellerby’s expression.
Fandom: The Departed
Rating: NC-17
Word Count (this chapter): 1,685
Warnings this chapter (highlight to view): Homophobia.
People are whispering.
Not everyone, and Sean’s only actually seen a couple of actually-whispering people, but he’s a cop, and a damn good one at that. He can make inferences about changed behavior toward him.
He hasn’t worked out exactly why, but he has a suspicion. Now that he’s made it clear to Robert that he’s fine with touching, there have been a lot more quick public touches, mostly on the arm or back, and greeting kisses, some of which have happened in bars. The second time it was in a bar, the next table over went quiet, and Sean just gave the guys there a hard stare until they looked away and picked their conversation back up. That’s been his technique the other couple of times it’s been an issue, but mostly it hasn’t; it’s Boston, and not that many people seem to care.
That doesn’t apply, though, to the Massachusetts State Police in general. While his job is safe, protected by law and policy, it can’t stop people from passing rumors, probably based on someone or a couple of someones seeing him out with Robert. He can’t prove it, but given he hasn’t pulled a personal coup in an investigation lately—he wouldn’t possibly have time to investigate something on his own; Undercover eats up all his regular work hours and more—he can’t think of a hell of a lot of reasons anyone would give enough of a shit about him to act differently. Normally, that’s how he likes it: if they leave him alone, he’s not tempted to punch anyone in the face.
Today, it’s making him uneasy that there’s no one besides Queenan he can talk to, and Queenan doesn’t get involved in gossip. He’s too busy and too professional for it.
No one asks him though, not from when he gets to the department, gets coffee, and goes to Queenan’s office. No one says anything directly to him, which is perfectly usual and mutual, and doesn’t give him pause. It’s that fucking whispering that does.
He doesn’t bring it up to Queenan, though, and he won’t without a solid reason. Instead, he says, “What’s on the schedule?”
“Olson is getting an early release,” Queenan says. “I found out this morning. He’ll be out tomorrow. He knows to call us with updates as soon as he has a single thing, even an in. If luck goes our way, we’ll meet with him next week.”
Sean nods, mentally sticking Olson into the spot he vacated with Costello. “Who are we meeting today?”
“I have Connelly at three. Before that, Brown, and we’re both meeting with White Collar in an hour about putting someone into an art smuggling ring. We’re advising them on how to pick someone.”
“I have to write up yesterday’s meeting,” Sean says. “I’ll be back in forty-five.”
Queenan nods. He’s already on something else. Sean absolutely cannot imagine having Queenan’s job, dealing with the brass while managing all the undercovers. For one thing, it means Queenan has to deal with him and Ellerby both, and there’s a shit combination if one ever existed.
It’s not that Ellerby’s a bad person. It’s that he’s an absolute shit cop who thinks he’s good because he’s made staff sergeant, but anyone who can read can pass the tests. Ellerby’s in it for show and the power of the badge, and Sean knows it, and Ellerby knows he knows it. His clean record means jack shit to Sean. He’s been a paper-pusher almost his entire career, and he somehow lucked into SIU. Sean’s reasonably sure someone owed him a favor for that transfer to happen.
Sean sips his coffee while he writes up his notes in Silverman’s file. Silverman has seen forged birth certificates and passed on Social Security numbers he memorized, also fake. Sex Crimes should be serving the warrant the next day, assuming it gets signed, and once they have solid evidence and make arrests, Silverman’s file can be opened and he can complete his actual transfer; it’s even more deserved now than when they pulled him.
The meeting is, as meetings go, not terrible. Granted, it’s Sean, Queenan, and Captain Peterson crammed into Peterson’s office just beside the White Collar bullpen, but Peterson is efficient about his questions. Sean offers his input from his position of being almost a year out, while Queenan gives seasoned opinions on what sort of person would work best. They’re done in under an hour. When they’re leaving Peterson’s office, Easley catches Sean’s eye and gives him a look that has to mean something, complete with raised eyebrows, but Sean can’t answer a question he only suspects is being asked. He meets Easley’s eyes but doesn’t nod, shrug, anything, in case he’s wrong.
Since Sean spends a lot of time in his office or Queenan’s, discussing their undercovers, he doesn’t have to interact with other people a whole lot. He does have to leave to get coffee or water and to go to lunch, though.
Miller joins him, matching his pace. “People are talking about you,” he says in an undertone.
“I fucking figured that much out.”
“Chynoweth says he saw you with some guy, touching each other.” At Sean’s look, Miller adds, “Personally, I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s true, but you know what cops are like. Protected by the blue line unless you betray it, and some assholes think being gay is a betrayal, makes the badge look bad.”
Sean gives Miller a considering look, then nods. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem. A bunch of us agree it’s no one’s business except yours and the guy’s.” He shrugs. “Drinks on Thursday night, Fox and Crow, if you want to come.”
So Miller means it about not giving a fuck. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll be there.”
Miller nods and peels away to go talk to Levy, who glances past him to Sean and smiles, almost encouragingly. He nods to her and reaches the stairs a moment later.
The inevitable happens when Sean’s on his way back to his office from making sure he’s signed up for the sergeants’ exam. He’s passing the bullpen when he comes to Ellerby, who asks, “Is it true you’re a homo, Dignam?”
Sean cocks his head. “Is it true you can’t get it up unless your wife puts her hair in pigtails?” The temptation to just punch him is there, but he doesn’t have cause for it. Let Ellerby keep talking, and maybe he’ll get it.
“Ellerby,” Miller says when Ellerby opens his mouth, and he’s the same rank as Ellerby, so at least he’ll make a decent witness if things get interesting, “don’t be an asshole.”
“Fuck yourself,” Ellerby says to Miller, but he doesn’t push Sean.
He’s just going to have to keep getting asked, though, or have people speculate, so Sean goes against all his instincts of privacy and says, “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, Ellerby, but yeah, I’m fucking a guy.”
Ellerby’s expression, his mouth agape and his eyes disbelieving, makes it worth the fact that all of SIU is going to think Sean is gay within half an hour.
Sure enough, Figueroa, who wasn’t even in the bullpen, knocks on Sean’s office door after he and Queenan get back from meeting with Brown and sticks his head in without being invited. “That took balls.”
Sean flicks his eyes up. “Maybe that’s part of the problem with the department. No one’s willing to say what’s on their fucking minds unless they’re assholes like Ellerby.”
Figueroa snorts. “You’re going to get all kinds of shit.”
“You think many troopers are going to say anything to me?” Sean asks, and he’s genuinely interested.
Figueroa hesitates before answering. “There’s a lot of respect from working Costello, yeah, but probably not enough.”
Sean shrugs. “If it comes down to it, I have a mean right and a better left.”
He laughs. “Nice to know. Some of us are on your side, anyway.”
“Miller said the same thing.”
“That was before you came out.”
Yeah, that’s what he did, isn’t it? “Same ones on my side?”
“A few more now, actually, mostly because of the balls it took and a few because Ellerby was the one to ask.”
“How did such an incompetent fuck make sergeant?” Sean wonders, and Figueroa laughs, lifting a hand before he leaves.
Figueroa’s right, he knows. There’s going to be his own personal shitstorm. But he knew that going into dating Robert, before he even knew if it’d be worth risking said shit. It’s nothing he can’t handle.
Queenan gets back from his meeting with Connelly as Sean’s getting ready to leave. He comes into Sean’s office and asks, “In front of the SIU bullpen, Sean?”
Sean shrugs on his blazer. “It’s where Ellerby asked, Captain.”
“It’s better than lying,” Queenan allows. “If it comes to it, you have my support.”
“I think we’re best off asking your wife to come down here if it comes to it.”
Queenan smiles. “I’d prefer she not have to come manage a group of children. Try not to rise to anyone’s bait.”
“Unless someone calls me a faggot to my face, I’ll hold off on the sucker punches,” he promises.
“I can try to protect you from a suspension if that happens, but I can’t promise it, Sean.”
He shrugs. “I know. Besides, Figueroa and Miller both said there are cops on my side.”
Queenan nods. “Good. I’d rather not see a black mark on your record as a result of someone else’s actions.”
“My union rep could get it removed if it’s due to harassment,” Sean says, reasonably, he thinks.
“Maybe.” Queenan gives him a steady look. “The brass won’t be sympathetic. Just hold your temper.”
Sean nods. “I’ll see you in the morning, Captain.” He brushes by Queenan as he leaves his office, stopping only to lock the door.
“Sean.”
He looks at him.
“It takes nerve to do the right thing. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir.” That makes it even more worth it than Ellerby’s expression.