|Please Don't Eat My Face
Author: Failure Played In Stereo PM
Slash. Jordan has enough on his plate without having to deal with newest inmate Reid. And he keeps giving him that hungry look...and not because he's a cannibal either.Rated: Fiction M - English - Crime/Romance - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,614 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 10 - Updated: 09-30-08 - Published: 08-01-08 - id: 2553357
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Oh, yeah! Fourteen to zero, baby! You're gonna have to do something quite sensational if you plan on winning this tournament, Johnny!"
"Oh, fuck off," Jean Claude mumbled, humiliated. He threw his remote down on the floor and glared at his best friend.
"Johnny! Don't give up now dude! We still have six games to go!" Jordan shouted, picking up his friend's discarded remote and giving it back to him. Jean Claude just scowled harder.
"And how the hell do you expect me to win if I'm fourteen - nil down? Even if I win the next six games - which quite honestly, is a laughable prospect - you'll still gonna have won."
Jordan Beckett sighed, putting the tv on standby, and standing up.
"You're no fun," the younger of the two pouted.
"Ever thought it's because I'm working fucking all hours? And all those nutcases I have to deal with have it in for me? No, of course you didn't. You probably think I'm having a male period."
Jordan laughed nervously, holding a hand out to help his friend up from the floor. Jean Claude ignored the offer and helped himself to his feet.
"It's not funny, Jordan!" he insisted. "I have enough shit at home because I knocked up a 19 year old, and this crappy job I have doesn't even begin to pay for what she needs right now. I'm fucking depressed as hell."
"What's brought this on?" Jordan asked softly. He was unused to his friend's erratic outburts and had never heard him say he was depressed before.
"You, Jordan! You always underestimate everything! I'm going to be a ifather/i, to a child I won't give a damn about. And I don't care how bad that sounds, but it's true, and I can't deal with your optimism right now. I'll see you at work," he finished, and briskly walked out of the front door.
Jordan stood in the middle of the apartment, slightly lost. They had been having fun a second ago, and it had all turned sour over a game of Halo.
"Morning, Jord," the secretary greeted him. He nodded at him, hanging up his coat and walking through to the cafeteria.
"Coffee, please," he asked, leaning on the counter. The woman behind it gave him a condescending look for a reason he couldn't quite fathom, before handing over his coffee. Slightly miffed, he threw the money carelessly on the counter before stalking off.
"Beckett!" called a gruff voice as he was walking down the corridor. "My office, please."
"Sir?" he asked, sitting down.
"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I just wanted to tell you that we have a new inmate this morning and I'd like it if you and Alstyne could escort him to solitary confinement."
"Solitary confinement, sir?" Jordan asked. He had to have done something pretty bad for solitary confinement. In Jordan's opinion, it was like being tortured, very slowly. He definitely wouldn't want to spend a night in one of the too small boxes they called cells.
"Yes. The name's Emmet. Reid Emmet. The sick bastard tortured and ate five young men in the space of two years. Course, he's confessed to more, they all do that. Only five bodies have been found though. Or should I say remains?"
"A cannibal, sir?" Jordan asked, trying to keep the suprise out of his voice. He was expecting a terrorist or something.
"Yes. Seems like he's got quite a few years behind bars."
"Any chance of parole?"
"Ha, are you kidding, Beckett? Who'd let a nutter like that loose?"
"Oh, I don't know," a voice said from behind them. "I wouldn't mind setting one of 'em on my lot," Jean Claude grinned.
"Ah, Alstyne, just the man! Got the news then?"
"In a better mood today then?" Jordan asked, smiling at his friend.
"Was he PMSing again, Beckett?" the Chief asked, causing Jordan to snort with laughter and Jean Claude to glare.
"Anyway, you two have got an execution haven't you? Escorting Mr Wainwright to the electric chair, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," Jordan said, nodding at the Chief Warden and strolling out the door with Jean Claude.
"Ready to go fry Wainwright, Johnny?" Jordan asked, earning a look of distaste from Jean Claude.
"Dude, you're sick," he muttered.
Jordan shook his head. "Nah, man. You gotta have a sense of humour with this job, ain't ya? Otherwise you go nuts."
Jean Caude shook his head, still unamused and unlocked the door to Wainwright's cell while Jordan went behind the inmate, quickly handcuffing him. Another guard held the door open as they led him down to the execution chamber.
"Dead man walking!" Jean Claude called out, earning curiosu looks from other inmates as they walked by.
And it was only 8 in the morning aswell.