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starpirateee · 2 months

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Alr Imma do something complicated unexpected and suggest some Shitty Cops (Bailey and Sam)

You're welcome, Oz <3

Oh my god shitty cops in my inbox 😭 this will be a pleasure and a curse, these two are so awful...

Uhhh @oswaldpettyeye , Nab wanted you to see this so... C'mere, take your shitty cops and their shitty requited pining that makes them argue like an old married couple

Pre tw for blood, death and vomiting

The team pushed open the door, flashlight beams bouncing off the walls. It had been almost twenty years since he'd been at Hatchetfield High, but much like the rest of this town, it hadn't changed in the slightest.

The first thing he saw when he entered was the message written out on the wall. The light from hid torch reflected off it, adding a certain ominous shine to the lettering. It looked like paint, but on closer inspection, he found that not to be the case at all.

"That's fuckin' blood," he declared, unable to do anything but stare as the viscous red dripped down the wall.

As more of the squad investigated the writing, he moved further into the locker room, feeling a wave of nausea overcome him. This wasn't happening. For god's sake, he was Sam fucking Sweetly, he didn't get grossed out by some crime scene. That wasn't him.

For the time being, he swallowed that back and tried to continue on his investigation. He pushed open the door to one of the toilet stalls, having followed a trail of blood on the ground, and peered inside. Led by the torch beam, he scanned the tiny space, and felt his stomach drop as the pit of nausea returned in an instant.

"Holy shit-"

There was a boy, face down on the ground. His blood stained the floor, the edge of the seat, and most of the clothing that was visible. The kid's hair was soaked, his body was bloated, and his skin was already greying.

Sam ran to the next stall along, tripping over himself, and barely managed to pull his hair back before he vomited.

"How fast can you get here?"

"Hatchetfield High? I'll be there in ten."

Bailey sauntered into the break room, looking to grab himself a drink. Technically, he could be at the high school in five minutes; he was allowed to break the speed limit if he needed to. Before he got into that, though, he was going to pick up a coffee.

Immediately, he noticed Sam, lounging against one of the chairs with a glass in hand. Bailey didn't know whether it was just the bright lights, or whether there was something wrong, but he looked a little paler than usual.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up, at least acknowledging the presence of the other officer. "Oliver."

Bailey's brow creased. "What happened? Where's everyone else?"

"It's just me." Sam leaned back, finishing off his glass and running his free hand over his face. "I'm not going back to that fuckin' school."

"Why not?"

"None of ya damn business!"

Bailey held up his hands. One moment, he was focusing on the way Sam looked at him, seemingly more alarmed that he'd chosen to ask than defensive over the actual answer. The next moment, still wondering why he'd been called in to replace this guy of all people, he had averted his attention in order to pour himself the coffee that had been brewing. "Geez, it was just a question..."

"Well, lay off."

He was pale. That wasn't a trick of the light. Sam was washed out and pallid, his forehead still slick with sweat despite his efforts to keep it at bay. If Bailey had been paying more attention, he would've noticed the way Sam was gripping the glass so hard that his knuckles had gone white, but he wasn't, so he didn't.

Closing the lid on his cup, he turned around and leaned against the counter, glancing in Sam's direction. He slipped the shades from his top pocket and over his eyes. "I got called in as your replacement, I just wanna know what I'm dealing with here."

"Murder." Sam's answer came quickly, bluntly. A manner that was fully expected. "Dead body. All that shit."

Bailey's eyebrow quirked. "... What's the matter, Sweetly? Scared of a little blood?"

Sam snarled, his gaze snapping over his shoulder to meet Bailey's. "Shut the fuck up and do your goddamn job, Bailey."

As he walked out, Sam swore he heard a huff of laughter. He cursed under his breath and sank back into the chair. What an asshole.

Bailey arrived late. This was a surprise to nobody. In fact, there was someone waiting outside to point him in the right direction, and he hadn't checked his watch once. When the squad car pulled up to the school's parking lot, he just hummed, awaiting the other officer. "Bailey. Here for Sweetly, I'm guessing?"

"Yep," Bailey looked around as he approached, as if Sam had followed him or something. "What happened to him? He refused to tell me..."

"He refused to tell you? Well, he got in there, saw the body, and vomited. Immediately."

Bailey scoffed initially. "Nah, no way. He wouldn't, he's too-" then it clicked. He remembered the state that Sam was in when he'd found him. His pallid face, the size of that glass of water... His eyes went wide. "Wait, are you fucking serious?"

In return, he got a nod that almost forced a bark of involuntary laughter out of him.

"Sweetly ralphed?!"

"Body was found in the locker room, thank god. He made it to one of the open stalls... Didn't contaminate the crime scene or anything, but he was a fucking mess."

Still is.

That much went unsaid. Bailey decided to give Sam a little bit of his dignity. Not like he deserved it, but he was still recovering! Maybe he'd goad him for it later... To his face, perhaps. He really was scared of a little blood...

For now, he cut him a little slack. He was already gonna get it for deciding to call himself "Hatchetfield's Finest", rubbing it in now was only setting him up for worse, and Bailey wanted to make this last.

"Show me this shit, I think I have to see what all the damn fuss is about."

The two of them made their way to the locker room. As their footsteps echoed through the hallways, Bailey momentarily let himself feel a little nervous. Sam was known for being the toughest guy in the precinct. He was a loudmouth, sure, but he usually followed through on his threats. The fact that the crime scene made him vomit had to mean it was pretty damn serious.

And serious, it was.

He got the chance to look over the body of the boy, the locker room itself, and the message on the wall. Immediately, he saw why Sam had felt so nauseous: this was an absolute mess, and that poor kid had really gotten the worst of it from whoever did this.

"Jesus, talk about a bully, huh?" He said aloud, thinking about the facts. This kid was drowned in the toilet, for god's sake, that was a classic move! They'd been doing it since he was in highschool!

"Huh?"

All attention was suddenly on him. He stopped in his tracks when he realised the conversation had died off completely. "What?"

"A bully?"

"Uh, yeah? Face down in the fuckin toilet? That's a classic bully move! This kid quite literally got bullied to death, ain't it obvious?"

"So... What? We're looking for someone this kid's age?"

Bailey shrugged. "Didn't say that. Could be someone who never grew outta old habits, wanted to make things look interesting." He was pretty convinced that this was the work of someone of a similar age; the writing on the wall gave that one away. The words Nerdy Prudes Must Die weren't generally something a self respecting adult would write, even if they were out for blood.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, another case they'd been running before this murder came up. There had been someone else disappear from this school not two weeks ago. Sure they hadn't actually found any leads yet, but this couldn't be a coincidence. "Hey, we got a name for this kid yet?"

"Mhm, coroner has him identified as... Richard Lipschitz."

"Didn't some kid go missing from here a couple weeks back?"

"The football star? Jägerman?"

Okay, so Lipschitz definitely didn't look like a football star, but Bailey couldn't exactly say he'd been paying full attention to that case when it came up. All he knew was some teenager had turned up missing from Hatchetfield High, and now another had been killed.

"You think they're related? The cases?"

"... Could be."

By the time Bailey got back to the precinct, Sam had long since passed the point of forcing himself to work to make himself look better. One thing was for sure, and that was hat he definitely looked a little more alive than the last time Bailey had seen him.

He managed to stop him when they were passing in the corridor, which managed to agitate him enough as it was, but when he looked up straight into Bailey's eyes, he scowled.

"What?"

"... Farris told me." Bailey admitted. "Everything."

"Oh that fucking snake." Sam hissed, the fire behind his eyes igniting. "And what? You come to gloat about how right you were? Fucking hell, you're such a child."

Bailey faltered. He'd never liked admitting he was wrong, and Sam didn't deserve the satisfaction of it, but he had been wrong, when it came down to it. He sighed. "Jesus Christ... No, I- you were-"

Never before had he sounded like such a stuttering prick. The hell was his problem?

"Nah, y'know, I don't think you'd have been the only one to ralph after seeing that shit."

Sam smirked like his cocky edge had never been lost. "What's the matter, Oliver, scared of a little blood?"