Field Work

—

I knocked on the huge ornate door in front of me and waited, shifting anxiously from side to side. I heard hurried little footsteps from inside and before long a little old woman pried the door open. Her enormously thick glasses magnified her eyes buggishly, and I had to cough and wipe my mouth to smother a creeping smile. She had no greeting; she just stared at me expectantly, her big bug eyes blinking twice before I spoke.

"Hello sir or madam,” I began somewhat warily. I assumed she was a madam, but you never could be too careful these days. Besides, we were required to say the same lines at every door. Didn't want anyone to feel discriminated against or anything like that. After all, this was America. It would take something pretty fantastic to make me forget my script at this point; I must have said it a hundred times today. I smiled charmingly as I continued, “I'm here to discuss a chain of robberies in your neighborhood. Have you seen any suspicious activity lately?"

"I already bought one," she snapped, her large eyes narrowing behind her glasses just before she tried to slam the door in my face, and I had to wedge my foot in to stop her. Jesus, she was stronger than she looked. That really fucking hurt! Stupid rich people; she had metal installed on the edge of her door.

I gritted my teeth, baring a sharp smile in hopes that she'd let me in, or at least stop breaking my foot. "No, ma'am," I tried to explain, "I'm not selling—"

Her bug face scrunched up angrily and her shrill, age-shaken voice carried through the crack of the door right to my ear, "My granddaughter is a Girl Scout, I know how this works!"

In my deepest heart of hearts, I hoped this old woman was at least partially insane. If I looked like a Girl Scout, I had much bigger things to worry about than my investigation, because, last time I checked, I looked very much like a 32 year old man, and I definitely had something most girl scouts did not. "But—"

She shuffled off to one side and tilted her head to yell over her shoulder, "Mr. Herriman! Please see this young man off the premises!"

I most definitely did not want to meet Mr. Herriman, so I pulled my foot out from her door and down the little stone path and out of her yard. I scowled as I limped back to the sidewalk and started off for the next house, grumbling colorfully as I went. Why the hell were there so many crazy old rich people? Honestly, why couldn’t young, mentally sound people make any money in this world?

Rich neighborhoods were hell, to put it lightly. They all had such agonizingly huge yards, which made it a bitch to go door-to-door. I winced as my foot caught on a bump in the concrete, nearly pitching me forward onto the ground.

Especially with a bum foot, I thought grumpily. I decided to call it a day after the next house. Hopefully this one wouldn't have a crazy old lady living in it.

The last house was bigger than all the others, which was promising. However, their yard looked like hell for someone on foot, and I was considering turning around and hobbling back to my car when I heard an automated voice from somewhere nearby.

"Hello," it began in a pleasantly androgynous voice. "Welcome to 909 Amberleigh Lane. If you would like to visit Mr. Jaffe, please take a seat.” My head snapped around as I looked curiously for the source, and my eyes fixed upon a cart pulling up next to me. I rubbed my chin, mystified, and wondered where the hell the hidden camera or sensor was. I must have tripped something to trigger this thing…

The cart looked…interesting, to say the least. It was something like a golf cart, only bigger and with more comfortable-looking seats inside. Mr. Jaffe definitely had me intrigued now. Anyone with enough money for something like this was definitely worth stealing from, so I climbed into a soft blue seat and the same mechanic voice chimed in through the speakers in front of me. “Please remain seated; this will only take a moment.”

I tilted my head back to enjoy the small breeze the cart made as it zoomed past the long, green lawn, and I wondered what kind of person I had stumbled across this time. In all likelihood, Mr. Jaffe was probably some tiny old man with a fortune in real estate or something. Most likely, he'd had two or three wives in his day, and if he still had one, she would be waiting for him with tea in the other room. The kind of guy who lived in his big old house with no less than three cats and went boating in the spring and golfing in the summer. I knew his type.

The cart stopped a few feet from the door and it thanked me for my patience before asking me to please ring the doorbell. I did as I was told and a different robot voice greeted me hello as it swung open the door. I stepped inside cautiously, unable to resist a low whistle of approval for room I was standing in. Not old at all. It was rather modern, actually. I liked it.

I looked around for the owner in order to offer up my compliments, but no one was in sight. "Um… hello?" I called out hesitantly, wincing as my voice echoed in the hollow silence of the house. "Anyone home?"

I heard what sounded like a small explosion before a voice called down to me, "One second! Be right with you!"

I blinked. That voice didn’t sound old at all. Hm, it was probably just his butler or nephew or something.

Several thumps, bangs, and thuds later I saw a figure stumble onto the spiral staircase winding over my head. He coughed a few times and ran down quickly.

He got off the stairs and walked over to me, covered in black soot from head to toe. He apologized profusely and clumsily picked up the end of his shirt tow wipe some of the soot off his face and hands.

"Mr. Jaffe?" I asked tentatively, just to be safe. I didn't really think it was him, and he surprised me by nodding back. I straightened my jacket and cleared my throat, tossing my hair before I started.

"I'm—" I tried to begin, but couldn't, finding that I'd somehow forgotten my lines. Mr. Jaffe was extremely distracting. He wasn’t what I expected, that was for sure. In fact, he was quite the opposite of what I'd anticipated. He was actually young – what the fuck was he doing living in this stuffy old neighborhood, anyway? – and he was thin in a healthy way. Feathery brown hair, and the kind of brown eyes I could never say no to. Dammit…

"—um… here to… uh…" I stumbled along my speech stupidly, noticing from the corner of my eye that his hair was smoking a little from the explosion I’d heard, and I had the vague thought that there probably weren't many people in the world who could make being on fire look attractive.

"…Can I help you?" he asked uncertainly.

Wow. Even his voice was nice.

I blinked, suddenly aware that it was very rude to stare so intensely, and blurted out something along the lines of "Chain of robberies!" before I could stop myself. Great. I was doing a fine job of making an ass of myself.

"What?” His eyes widened comically as he gasped, “They must be after my inventions!" His hands flew out to grab the lapels of my shirt, pulling my face closer in his distress, and I couldn't bring myself to care that he was probably wrinkling one of my best suits, not to mention contaminating me with the soot that was all over his hands. "What should I do?"

I studied the way his eyes stared pleadingly into mine, trying to collect myself and ignore the gold flecks around his pupils. I was on the job, after all. I eventually managed to distract myself long enough to choke out, "Well, do you have a security system?"

He released me, much to my dismay, and flashed me a very self-satisfied grin as he folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, I've got one, all right. I invented it myself." He was absolutely adorable when he had that pleased expression on his face. "It's the best there is!"

That was exactly the lead I needed. I smiled back, ajusting my tie with both hands as I asked, "Oh really? Will you show me how it works?"

"Of course!" He practically bounced in excitement as he turned and started down a hallway. “Right this way.” I followed closely behind him as he led me into what looked like a library, shuffling around a bit before pulling out an elaborate stack of blueprints from one of the shelves, and neatly spread them out across the table for me.

Though his system was homemade, it was very impressive. If I hadn’t seen it in person, there was no way I could have broken in without getting caught.

See, this was the way things worked: I was a detective in charge of my own district, and it just so happened it was a hideously wealthy district. One day I was scoping out a pretty nice house when bam, it hit me, and I realized that I could really make a killing as a crook. My job was to personally inspect and examine the security systems in particularly crime-ridden areas, and I could probably get around blindfolded in most neighborhoods. And after all, who would suspect the investigator himself? This was not Scooby Doo here, folks. No one accuses the detective when he works his ass off trying to catch this amazing thief. It was a pretty good plan, I thought.

So far, it was working out pretty well.

I tilted my head to the side, listening closely to Mr. Jaffe’s explanation of his supposedly flawless system, and after much thought and delibration, I eventually decided that I had secured a solid way in.

Now all I had to do was figure out what the hell I was going to steal. From the looks of it, his house was full of all sorts of interesting items, so all I really needed was a good lay of the land. So, even though he had a good right to be proud of himself, I was going to have to use it against him. I brushed my arm aganst him subtly, responding with a grin when he gave me a curious look. "Your house is really amazing," I commented as casually as I could. "D'you mind if I take a look around?"

"Of course not, go right ahead!" I noticed that his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and I started to feel a little guilty about tricking him."Will you be all right by yourself? I sort of had a minor explosion before that I need to clean up."

I waved my hand absently over my shoulder in an effort to reassure him, almost laughing as he bounced happily up to his lab. He really was cute. I seriously thought about pursuing him, or at least having a little fun with him, but I would definitely get fired for that, and I couldn’t pull off robberies even half as well if I didn't have my job, so I'd basically be screwed, and not in a good way, either. It'd just be one hell of a long trip downhill.

So instead of trailing behind Mr. Jaffe like some kind of sick lovestruck puppy, I decided to use my time alone wisely. I made sure to keep an eye out for sensors and cameras of any sort, deliberating internally over what half the things in his house were and whether or not they were worth stealing. His inventions puzzled me, and I spent a good half an hour trying to figure them out before I accidentally broke one and had to stash the evidence somewhere safe. Maybe I wouldn't steal his inventions after all. It would probably break the poor guy's heart.

My favorite discovery during my exploration was hidden extremely well among a clutter of picture frames on a shelf upstairs. There was a stack of dusty pictures beneath one, and I'd never been one to deny my nosy nature – I was a detective, after all – so I spent quite some time looking through them. Long story short, there were quite a few snapshots of him with an energetic-looking brunette, standing side by side with their arms around each other, and deeper in the pile there were even some photos of them kissing.

As it turned out, this mysterious inventor and I had a lot more in common than I originally thought.

Suddenly, my day couldn't get much better. I tucked one of the pictures into my pocket for safe keeping and replaced the rest of them on the shelf, shuffling thoughtfully out of the room. I ran into Mr. Jaffe in the hallway, his damp skin brushing against mine before he backed away, blushing. All the soot was gone, and his brown hair flopped over his eyes in wet strands, so I assumed he'd taken a shower, even though I hadn't heard anything.

Apparently I'd overlooked a section of the house. Dammit, of all the rooms to miss…

I coughed to clear my thoughts and faced Mr. Jaffe. "Well, your security looks pretty good," I told him with a smile, absently fishing a business card out of my suit pocket. "Call me if you see anything." And I offered him my card, slyly allowing my fingers to linger against his as he took it.

"Thanks! It was really nice of you to drop by, Mr…" He paused to squint at the card, his nose wrinkling as his tongue stumbled clumsily over the foreign name. "Mr…uh…Damidy—"

"D’Amédée," I corrected with a broad, tolerant smile. People always had trouble pronouncing my name. "French is a pain, I know. You can just call me Conner if it'll make things easier."

"Right, sorry," he mumbled after he trailed off his miserable attempt at my last name, a tiny hint of pink sweeping his cheeks. He ducked his head slightly in what I assumed was embarrassment, offering me a warm handshake which I accepted enthusiastically. "No offense, Conner," he said, gripping my hand firmly, "but I hope I won’t have to use this."

I almost smirked. Oh, don't worry. You will, I thought to myself.

"Same here," I lied with practiced ease. "But I hope I'll see you around, anyway."

"Yeah." He lifted his chin and shook his longish hair away from his face. "Me too."

I smiled at the way his hair caught the sun, barely able to restrain my itching fingers from touching it. Holy shit he was adorable. "Thanks for your time, Mr. Jaffe," I said with the biggest smile I could muster. Oh yes, we were definitely going to meet again. No doubt about that.

“Just Simon,” he requested with a shy look. “I hate sounding so old already.”

Simon, huh? Well, okay. First name basis was more than all right with me.

"Okay, Simon." I still had his hand in mine, so I used it to pull him gently closer, swiftly brushing air-soft kisses to both of his cheeks. He stared at me with the most dumbstruck expression I'd ever seen before in my life, and I barely smothered my laugh in time. "It’s how we French do things," I explained slyly, watching with amusement as the confusion faded from his face. I loved that excuse, really. Gave him something to remember me by.

He walked me out to his little cart, and I made sure our arms bumped every step or two. I still felt kind of guilty, subtly attempting to seduce this guy while I simultaneously planned to rob him blind, but I tried not to think about it. The way I saw it, if things worked out the way I wanted them to, we'd share everything anyway, and no one needed to be the wiser.

He stopped at the edge of his lawn, waving good-bye as I settled down the cart. He still looked a little flustered. I was sorry to leave, but then again, I’d be back soon enough. Probably tonight, if I had time to gather the proper equipment. I would need to take off the rest of work, though…

Well, actually, that wouldn't be much of a problem.

I fished my phone out of my pants pocket as I walked to my car, my fingers automatically dialing the number for my office. My boss wouldn't be very pleased about this, but he could fucking deal. I was still limping, dammit, and it hurt.

The boss, predictably, didn't take it very well. He was a graying man in his early sixties, and he always complained that, in his day, they worked from dawn till dusk and hardly ever saw their front porch or their families, and I was nothing but a pansy who needed to learn to suck it up. I should be more grateful for the things I have, and the nice paycheck I didn't deserve, according to him, and blah blah blah…

Needless to say, I hung up on him and drove home with my phone stuffed under the passenger seat. My apartment was pretty small – I liked to call it cozy, thank you very much – but it was home. I lived there with my goldfish, Flash, and a whole lot of dirty laundry. Looking back, I had no idea how Simon could live in that big empty house all alone.

I wouldn't mind helping him with that, I thought to myself with a smile, remembering how pretty his brown eyes were and how the sun brought out the highlights in his dark hair. It wasn't every day you came across a gorgeous millionaire, and he was all I could think about.

It was easy to lose time like this. Simon was, as I'd already mentally established about fifty times throughout the day, the single most adorable creature I'd ever seen, and I was happy to let him occupy my thoughts for a few hours. Besides, I didn't have anything else to do except sit on my couch, eat dinner, and watch some lousy movie on TV.

Until midnight or so, anyway. Then I had a job to do.

—

A/N: And there you go. The new story. What do you think of it? Lame? Interesting? Funny? Hopefully not lame.

I have another story I want to write, but I need your opinions. It's about a band called Anything Taboo, and the summary is basically "forbidden fruit creates many jams." So the question is this: shall I work just on Field Work, just work on Anything Taboo, or work on them both simultaneously? It's your call.

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed Coincidences. Its sequel, Fate, will be up as soon as I finish another story or two. I just need a quick break, is all.

One last thing that you might find funny: I originally considered calling this story Inspector Gadget, but I was afraid of random idiots and flames for writing fanfiction. Too bad.