Current mood:	bouncy
Entry tags:	fanfiction, kiss kiss bang bang

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang fanfiction (part 1/2)
Title: Insert Clever Title Here (or Some Stuff that Happened to Me a While Back, Part 1/2)
Author: Harry Lockhart (dictation taken by ennui_blue_lite)
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 2,006
Author’s notes: Thank God it’s finally finished. Do you know what it’s like to take dictation from Harry Lockhart? For hours on end, nothing but babble, a constant stream of noise. “Slow DOWN!” I shouted for the fiftieth time, struggling to keep up as he drank coffee and prattled on about a sex toy heiress and rocky romances. Now I’ve got Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and a headache. Perry has my sympathy.

Much, MUCH love to my wonderful beta, skyblue_reverie. She is my cheerleader, my support, and my best friend. I thank her for catching all my spelling errors and Harry’s grammar problems.



Okay. Hey. Hi. Harry Lockhart here. You remember me, right? The guy from that movie a few years ago? Not a lot of people actually saw it, but you did, I guess. ‘Cause, seriously, why else would you be reading this? Anyway, I’m doing fine. How are you?

So, down to business. Story time. That’s why you’re here, right? Or, I don’t know, maybe you just really like hanging around me. In which case, you’re gonna hear the story anyway, ‘cause I’m about to tell it.

…Okay. Um…fuck, okay. Sorry. This is sort of embarrassing, but I don’t know where to start. You’re probably thinking, ‘well, gee, numb nuts, why don’t you start at the beginning?’ except it’s not that easy, asshole, because this story doesn’t start at the beginning. It starts before the beginning. Yeah, that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Let me explain. Usually, the story would start like this:

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!” Perry said, dropping a massive stack of color coded files just millimeters from my head. This may have been because of my choice of nap location – Perry’s desk – but still, not a very nice way to wake up. “I’ve got a new case.”

“Wha – we got a new case?” I said. Okay, yeah, I know, he just said that. I was still a little groggy. Sue me.

“Yeah. Go get the 14 mm, you’re running backup on a raid. We’re taking out a drug lord.”

“What? We’re – really?”

“No. Idiot.” He grabbled a file off the top of the stack. “I’ve got surveillance tonight. You’ve got a stack of old cases to file.”

“No! No! Perry, let me come along! I can do this, and you always stick me with the filing, and the dry cleaning, and I can do the detective thing! Filing is not the detective thing!”

Perry made a face – his ‘Harry wants to do something that isn’t shoving papers into files and files into drawers’ face. “No, Harry, it’s not the detective thing. Any idea why that might be? Think hard.”

“Okay, I know, I messed up on that one case with the thing and the guy who could …fellate himself,” I said, “but, look, that was just one tiny mistake -”

“Tiny mistake? You got yourself shot!” Perry interrupted.

“Are you gonna hold that over my head forever? Don’t I get another chance? Besides, it’s only surveillance, what could go wrong?” Then, I so cheated. I did that thing where I look up at him through my eyelashes – never fails.

Eyes closed, Perry made a tent with his fingers in front of his mouth, and I knew I had him right where I wanted him. A resigned sigh and, “Can you, for one evening, do as you’re told and keep your mouth shut?”

“Absolutely. Swear to God,” I said, raising my right hand. Yeah, like that ever even worked on me in court.

“Fine then. No heroics, though, understand me? Don’t make me go through that again.” Perry picked up the file and began to read.

See, that’s the story’s beginning, but it’s not where the story starts. There’s something else that happened before, and it’s really pretty important, so pay attention. A few days before Perry got the case -

The hairpin slipped into the lock, and the desk drawer popped open with a click. Oh yeah, still the king.

What? Why are you looking at me like that? Okay, fine, yes, it’s horrible that I broke into Perry’s locked desk. Boo hoo, I’m so ashamed. Look, I’ve worked really hard to give up B&E because he asked me to. Am I supposed to let all of my skills just go down the toilet? God, don’t be so judgmental.

Besides, what kind of man keeps hairpins around? Even for Perry, that’s incredibly gay.

Not like there was anything worth finding in there anyway – no booze, no naked pictures, no sparkly pink unicorn dolls, nada. Just papers, and more papers. Why did Perry lock this drawer?

I picked up a file. Receipts. Oh, be still my beating heart. Camera receipts. Battery receipts. Paper receipts. File receipts. He filed his file receipts. Good God, that man is anal. Ammo receipts. Restaurant receipts…huh.

A slip of paper marked Fredric’s caught my eye. Then another. I checked the dates. These were recent; these were recent receipts for a fancy restaurant that Perry had never mentioned in any of his case reports.

Okay, so usually, Perry handles most of the deducing – which is probably why he’s got his name on the door, and I’m not allowed to touch the guns without special permission – but I’d read my share of detective novels (not just Johnny Gossamer, thank you) and I was starting to reach a few conclusions of my own.

And that was when I decided that Perry was cheating on me.

What? You didn’t know we were together? Did you SEE the movie? And, okay, yeah I know, internet, right? You people see gay subtext in episodes of Sesame Street, but this time, it really happened. Seeing Perry lying in the street, dying – it did something to me. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying that it turned me gay, but it made me have, like, deep thoughts, and apparently deep thoughts can turn you fucking gay. You have been warned.

But back to the case – yeah, I jump around a lot. Get used to it.

“Samantha Morris, seventeen-year-old heiress,” Perry began, “daughter of James Morris, founder and CEO of Pleasure Playground.”

“What, you mean like the sex toys?” I asked. Perry has quite the collection. I’ve developed a pretty wide knowledge of sex toy manufacturers.

“That would be him. Daddy Morris recently noticed that his darling daughter likes to disappear for days on end. He thinks she’s into drugs. We get a few pictures of her with her dealer-”

“He gets her into rehab,” I finished.

“Nope,” Perry said. “He cuts her out of his will. Apparently having a party girl for a daughter could cast a bad light over the company image.”

“Feel the love,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What image? His company sells butt-plugs.”

“High quality butt-plugs,” Perry pointed out.

No argument here.

Perry routed around in his desk and pulled out one of those little faggot guns of his. “You wanna be a part of this, go get your camera. And don’t mess with the auto focus this time. It would be nice to actually be able to use the pictures as evidence.”

Yep. Feel the love.

* * * * * * * *

Stakeouts suck. I’m not even sure why I wanted to come. They really suck. They suck harder than Perry after three beers and a Sex in the City marathon. In panties. Not that I’ve ever worn panties for Perry. Okay, yes, fine, once I wore panties for Perry. Twice. Like you never did anything kinky, fuck off. Anyway -

“So,” I fiddled with my seatbelt, “why does everyone call you Gay Perry?”

Perry shot me that look. Yeah, you know the one. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked.

“No, no, I know, it’s cause you’re gay,” I said. “But, a lot of people are gay, and they don’t have nicknames that, like, announce it to the world, so why do you? Isn’t it kind of insulting, like people are trying to label you? And, why Gay Perry? Why not Fairy Perry, or –”

“Harry.”

“ – why not – hey, do you think people are going to start calling me Fairy Harry? ‘Cause I’m not sure that would be technically accurate since –”

“Harry!”

“– I’m not really all the way gay, even though we’ve been together for a while, and I wouldn’t mind if –”

“HARRY!” Perry shouted. Jeez, why does he always shout like that? I was right next to him. “Harry, if you don’t stop flapping your lips, I will personally find a needle and thread and sew them together, understand?”

“Yeah, you would, Aunt Bea,” I sulked. “I’m just saying, since everyone already knows we’re together –”

“There she is,” Perry rudely interrupted. He pointed at a spoiled looking blonde chick walking across the lawn toward a blue ‘vette. “Got your camera?”

“Yeah, I got it.” I snapped a picture.

“What are you doing?” Perry asked.

“Um…gathering evidence, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“She hasn’t done anything yet, stupid. Stop wasting pictures.”

I stuck my camera back in my lap and glared at him. Jerk. Like he was the king of … cool…detective things.

I don’t like it when he calls me stupid. Well, yeah, obviously, why would I? But he doesn’t really mean it. Okay, that’s not really true, he does mean it, but it’s not just about being a jerk. Perry told me once that I scare him. That I don’t always think before I act, and it’s like watching a three-year-old run into traffic. I guess that’s true. Like when I used to steal whatever I wanted, and I kept landing in jail. Or when I decided to work that case on my own last month, and I got shot. “Stupid, stupid,” Perry had mumbled into my neck when I woke up in the hospital two days later. It was the closest I had ever come to seeing him cry.

Still, I didn’t think wasting a picture qualified as a life-threatening mistake, and I was feeling pretty miffed.

We followed Princess Dildo’s tail lights through LA, south, away from the hills, away from the mansions, and the cars that all looked like they cost three times my annual salary (and Perry actually pays me pretty well, all things considered). A little ways east, and we were driving through a neighborhood that seemed kinda on the rough side for our target.

“Hey Perry,” I said, staring out the window at a stray dog peeing on a street sign, “Remember that thing with the dog?”

“That – what, the case last week?” he asked.

“Yeah, you know, the thing with the poofy dog and the condoms full of heroin?”

“No. I’ve completely forgotten the entirety of last week. I know a guy who does mind wipes.”

“Forget it,” I said.

“Are you pouting?”

“No.”

“Yes you are! I think you’re pouuu-ting,” Perry sang. Then he reached over and started tickling my neck, and how gay is that? I shoved him off. “Come on, Harry, don’t be like that. Look, I’m sorry. What about the dog?”

“I just thought it was really cute, and you looked really cute playing with her, and I thought, hey, why don’t we get a dog? I like dogs. You know, ’cause…it was cute.”

“Yeah, well, it was less cute when I broke out in hives,” Perry said. “Besides, dogs suck. They’re stupid, and they smell, and they lick you and slobber on you and mess up your stuff. I’ve already got you for all that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, thanks Perry, that made me feel really special.”

“Hey,” Perry leaned across the gearshift and kissed my cheek. “I’m not complaining.” His hand slid down my back and onto my thigh.

Ten bucks says I had a stupid grin on my face. “I love you,” I said. Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck. I did NOT mean to say that. FUCK! ‘Cause now I’m the first one who’s said it, and I don’t know how these things work in gay relationships. Damn it! What if I freaked him out? What if I just freaked out the guy who might already be cheating on me, by telling him I loved him? I risked a glance in his direction. Yeah, those are some big eyes. Fuck!

Perry cleared his throat. “We should get back to work,” he said, and pulled onto a street where the Heiress of Hard-Ons was parking in front of a dark, crappy little house with two trucks in the yard and a hole in the roof.

The pictures turned out great, by the way.

* * * * * * * *

Part 2/2 is HERE