I think it's about time I did something less serious, and 'dark.' So here we are. I'm generally drawn to writing more serious, and angstier stuff for some reason, but I also have a soft spot for reading cute stories, haha. This will be my attempt. I apologize if it doesn't live up to most people's expectations, or if it's clichéd or whatever.
Should probably say this takes place somewhere between Sly 1, and Sly 2. Onwards then.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sly Cooper and friends. They are owned by SuckerPunch.
Sick Day I
Sly Cooper hated being sick.
He hated being confined to his bed, he hated all the coughing, and sneezing he did, and he especially hated being forced to chug down copious amounts of medicine. It was as though those medical companies did what they could to make their medication taste horribly, just to spite, and punish those who were ill. He glared at the bottle of cough syrup on the bedside table, wishing every type of punishment he could imagine upon in.
At the moment, he laid buried under at least 3 blankets, sniffling, and miserable. The cough he had was probably the worst of it, seeing as whenever he had some sort of attack, he'd be left wheezing slightly, and breathless. Sly sorely wished that he had something to entertain himself with, seeing as Bentley absolutely refused to let him leave his room, or bed. Sly had begged, and pleaded as much as he could with the turtle, but being the germaphobe Bentley was, he refused to even hear of Sly leaving the 'quarantine zone'.
Hell, even Murray was avoiding him at the moment, and the only times Sly had even seen his friends, was when they brought him some sort of soup, or tea.
Sighing to himself, Sly grabbed another tissue, and sneezed into it. His throat felt like it was on fire, and no matter how much water or tea he drank, it did nothing to put out the burning sensation.
I'm bored.
In a sudden fit of energy, he clawed the blankets off himself, and sat up in his bed. His room wasn't exactly the most interesting, seeing as he didn't own many possessions. The only thing he really kept around was his cane, which was currently standing against his bed, and the Thievius Raccoonnus, which he'd hidden away from prying eyes. The book was his pride and joy, and Sly would be damned, if he let it escape from his grasp again. It'd only been a scant few months since he'd gotten the book back into its full form, and the raccoon thief barely let it out of his sights. He shuddered at the memory of Clockwerk, but pushed the memories away. Luckily, the fever he had was low enough where he wasn't delusional, and having nightmares of the owl; but it didn't make Sly feel any less sweaty, and he would generally suffer shivers that came out of no where.
Suddenly, his eye was drawn to a small radio that he kept tucked away on a shelf. Neither of his friends knew he had it, which the raccoon was thankful for. If his friends - Bentley being the one he was most worried about - ever caught wind of it, Sly as sure to suffer through a good few hours of lectures, and rambling from the turtle.
Carefully, so as not to announce he was moving around, Sly slipped out from under the blankets. He shivered in the air, but stepped forward as quickly as he dared, to nab the radio. It was a simple, handheld radio with 3 knobs, and a light up display. The name on the bottom proclaimed it as Inspector Fox's, which had Sly smirking when he thought of the beautiful vixen.
Carmelita Fox might be the only officer who could keep up with him, and that was perfectly okay with Sly. He'd come very close to being behind bars thanks to her, but for the raccoon thief, it just added more of a challenge to his career. He'd already said so many times himself, but thieving wouldn't be half as fun if Carmelita wasn't around chasing his tail. That, and she was definitely easy on the eyes. He'd taken this radio from her not more than a few weeks ago, as she'd actually thrown it at him in frustration when he'd 'borrowed' her shock pistol. It didn't pick up as many frequencies as before, seeing as it'd landed heavily on the ground, but Sly had kept it anyway. Sometimes he'd turn it on, and listen in on any sort of cop activity. Plus, there was the added bonus of hearing Carmelita's smooth, Spanish accented voice, and Sly liked the listen to her speak through it; even if he missed her insults thrown at him.
Sly usually had to remind himself, it wasn't because he liked her anything. He certainly thought she beautiful, and cute whenever she was angry at him, but it wasn't much more than just a crush.
Right?
Being as bored as he was, Sly figured it would be good entertainment to listen in, and see if perhaps Carmelita was on the prowl for him, or just giving out reports. Turning it on, he set the radio on his desk, and sat down at the chair, suppressing a cough as he did so. His ears swivelled around to try and catch anyone who might be sneaking up to his room, but caught nothing.
He barely managed to catch the last few words spoken into the radio:
This is Inspector Fox, reporting a 211 on Rue Saint-Jacques. Suspects are armed, and dangerous. I'm currently pursuing them on foot, and requesting back up. I repeat…
Sly's eyes widened at hearing what was happening. Even as Carmelita was speaking, gunshots managed to overpower much of what she'd said, and fear rose up in his chest for the vixen. Without a second thought, the raccoon grabbed his cane, and dashed over to the window. He was starting to climb out of the opened window, when the chill air from outside blasted his body, making him shiver.
Hitting himself on the forehead with a groan, he quickly pulled on a sweater, pulled on his boots, and climbed out the window. Grabbing the pipe that stood just outside his window, he put his cane in his mouth, and quickly climbed as much as his lethargic body allowed him to. The adrenaline coursing in his veins, prevented him from truly feeling the cold air, and as he leaped across the rooftops, with the only thing in mind being Carmelita.
Rue Saint-Jacques was not far from his safe house, so he was there no later than 10 minutes after he'd first heard the call. Cursing himself for not bringing the radio with him, he landed with pinpoint accuracy on a flagpole, and searched the streets for any sign of the vixen, or the robbers she'd been pursuing. Sly's chest heaved with each breath, seeing as he'd run full pelt to his location without even realizing that the cold he had prevented him from fully breathing properly.
It was here, that he realized just how much his body was affected by the cold he had. His adrenaline was still pumping, but dizziness suddenly made him sway in the cold air. For some reason, he was sweating as well. Pulling the thick sweater he wore tighter around himself, Sly shuddered where he crouched.
Maybe this was a bad idea, he groused to himself. But I can't let Carmelita get hurt…
Gunshots had his ears perking up, and he squinted past the sweat running down his face, to where he'd heard it. Finally, he spotted Carmelita ducking behind a discarded crate in an alleyway, with the robbers firing bullets at her relentlessly. The Inspector was unable to do a thing, seeing as she only had her shock pistol, and the robbers seemed to have an endless supply of magazines. That, and Sly noticed that she seemed to be favouring her ankle.
Sly's teeth clenched together, and he quickly wiped the sweat from his eyes, and tensed his legs up to jump from his position. With a suddenly spring, Sly flipped upwards from his position, and caught his cane onto a wire running between the buildings. He put his feet out to catch himself before he ran straight into the wall, and caught a pipe in paw. Luckily, he landed silently behind the robbers, and without them even realizing what was happening, he struck.
His cane caught one of the robbers, a large Doberman with muscles that could rival Muggshot's, around the throat, and pulled him back. He let out barely a gasp of air, before Sly unhooked his cane, and brought it crashing down on the Doberman's head. He was out for the count.
"What the-!" One of the other robbers appeared to hear what had happened, and he spun around. This one was another large elephant, with his sweater nearly bursting at the seams across his broad chest and shoulders. The elephant let out a loud curse, catching the attention of the third robber, this one a rather thin jackal. The two spun around to face Sly, growls escaping their throats, and their faces forming into scowls.
"Who the hell are you?" spat the jackal. He aimed his pistol between Sly's eyes, who appeared wholly unaffected by the idea that he had a gun pointed at his head.
Sly shrugged, and smirked. "Just a guy who was passing through."
A loud bang echoed in the alleyway, but Sly had already ducked under the path of the bullet, and swung his cane around like a battering ram, sinking it straight into the jackal's gut. The jackal staggered away, coughing and spluttering, while the elephant roared with fury, and ran forwards blindly.
The raccoon leaped easily over the charging elephant, and landed with a roll behind him. Sly could feel his lungs burning with the activity he was currently doing, and he was suddenly pulled into another round of hoarse coughing. Distracted, he didn't hear the click of a hammer being pulled back, until he looked up, and saw that the jackal had staggered back to his feet.
Another loud blast sounded off, and Sly ducked before a large shock projectile slammed into the jackal's chest. He let out a yell of pain, before slumping to the ground, his fur smouldering slightly from the blast.
Sly glanced back, and saw that Carmelita had her arms stretched out in front of her, using the crate as a way to hold her aim steady. Her face looked determined, and somehow concerned for the raccoon, as she yelled, "Cooper, don't get distracted now!"
Chuckling softly, Sly stood to his feet, and faced the elephant, who looked flabbergasted at what had happened. His gun was still in hand, but the bravado he'd seemed to posses from before had fled. Sly gave him no chance to react, as he was leaping forward, and striking the elephant across the head. Going down with a loud 'thud', the elephant remained motionless on the ground.
Out of breath, Sly glanced back to see that Carmelita was trying to stagger to her feet, hissing in pain. He was at her side in two strides, gently sweeping her off her feet. Carmelita squeaked in response, and demanded, "put me down!"
Sly obeyed, which surprised the vixen immensely. Usually, the raccoon would be giving her some sort of cheeky remark, and refuse to listen. She was looking him over when he sneezed into his sleeve, and looked up at her. Carmelita could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and how his shoulders were slouched over slightly. He seemed much more out of breath than usual as well.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked.
Sly laughed, and said, "it's just a cold. No need to worry your pretty little head over."
However, he was feeling a bit worse than before, and Sly blamed the running, and cold February air. Luckily, there was not much snow on the ground, but the chill that usually came with winter had not abated in the least. He shivered in his sweater, and wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. Before Carmelita could say a word of protest, he took the cuffs she always had on her person, and walked over to the robbers.
"I suggest you call this in, Inspector," he called back, while he started cuffing the jackal.
Breaking out of her stupor, Carmelita took the radio on her hip, and quickly called in the incident to Interpol. Once that was done, she looked over to see that Sly had rummaged through the garbage bins, and found something to bind them with. It was crude, but at least the robbers weren't going to get away until Interpol got there.
He walked back to her, and said, "well Carmelita, I suggest we get you back to your apartment."
"W-what?" she stammered. Sly could tell that the vixen was extremely agitated at the idea of Sly taking her back to her apartment, but the raccoon wasn't going to hear anything other than that. Of course, he could leave her here, and have her get proper medical attention, but Sly wanted to be sure she was really okay before leaving. And he couldn't be around when Interpol came around, otherwise he'd be thrown in jail.
That, and he wasn't really up to being chased while sick.
Speaking of which, the thief could feel more coughs rising in his chest, and he felt a bit warmer than he really should be, but he shook it off to sweep the wriggling Carmelita into his arms, bridal style. She gasped in shock at the treatment she was receiving.
"Cooper, put me down! I'll charge you with kidnapping if you take me back to my apartment!" Sly had to chuckle at how ridiculous her statement was, but he chose to ignore it. Carmelita shouted profanities at him, in both English, and Spanish, which all fell on deaf ears. When she realized that her struggling was getting her no where, Carmelita fell silent, sulking in his arms.
She had to admit though, that it felt nice to be held close to the raccoon. His strong arms held her tightly, and almost protectively, but she could tell he wasn't at exactly a hundred percent health. For one, he was breathing a bit too hard for having just fought, when usually the vixen never saw the raccoon out of the breath. And for another, he appeared tired, and somewhat sluggish.
However, he noticed her scrutiny, and grinned down at her. "Like what you see?" he teased.
Carmelita flushed angrily, and turned away. "No way, Raccoon."
No other words were exchanged between the two, as Sly walked his way towards her apartment. Which Carmelita suddenly realized was strange, as there was no way he would know where it was… right?
"Cooper, how the hell do you know where I live?" she demanded, once she realized that she recognized the streets they were walking on. Even in the dark, with none of the stores open, and only the streetlights to light their way, the vixen would know this street anywhere. Even now, she spotted her apartment building getting closer. "Cooper!"
"Relax, Carmelita," he said almost breathlessly. He pulled his face away from her, coughing hoarsely, but his grip on her never loosened; that was something Carmelita could admire even in her flustered state.
"Are you alright?" she asked, concern beginning to drift into her voice.
He turned his back against the glass door, and nudged it open. He offered her a tired looking smile. "Not exactly," he admitted. "But that's unimportant now. Do you mind opening the doors so I can get you inside?"
Silently, she obliged, and dug - somewhat difficultly - into her pocket, and pulled out the cardkey used to get inside the building. Once the door buzzed loudly and unlocked, Sly shifted her slightly in his arms, and managed to open it so they could get inside. Somehow, he knew exactly where he was going, but Carmelita said not a word.
She decided against even asking, because all the raccoon would do was give her some sort of cryptic answer.
Once again, she opened the door to her apartment (which she questioned why she was doing so in the first place), and they both stepped in.
"Home sweet home," the raccoon tried to joke, which only earned a set of rolled eyes from the vixen. As Sly gently deposited her on the cream coloured couch in her living room, he crouched in front of her. He grinned again, but only to turn away, coughing. Once he recovered, he said, "now, that wasn't too hard, was it, Carmelita?"
The vixen immediately bristled in annoyance.
"I didn't ask for your help!" Carmelita scowled. As she tried to stand, and put weight on her ankle, she yelped in pain, and quickly sat back on her couch again. Sly was immediately at her side, looking worried. He went to start untying her boots, when a paw on his wrist stopped his actions. "What are you doing?"
Sly quirked a brow at her, and then laughed softly. He suppressed another cough, before continuing. "I'm just checking to see your ankle isn't broken or anything. It might just be sprained, but better safe than sorry, right gorgeous?"
For a moment, the vixen looked suspicious of him, but when she saw the sincerity in his eyes, she sighed, and nodded. "Alright fine."
His fingers quickly untied the laces on her foot, and slowly began to slide it off. Carmelita hissed in pain at the jarring movement, to which Sly offered a quick apology. He had the boot off now, and he carefully rolled her jeans up to check her ankle. It looked swollen, but Sly deduced that it wasn't broken, just sprained.
"Looks like you're in luck," he smiled up at her. He helped her sit so that she was lying across her couch, and placed a few pillows under her foot. Then he stood. "Where's your ice, if you don't mind me asking."
The vixen gaped at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me, Cooper? Where else would they be?"
It seemed to dawn on him how dumb the question was, and he laughed to himself. His face suddenly contorted, and he turned away from her to sneeze into his sleeve. After clearing his throat, he said, "sorry, having a cold doesn't sit well with me."
At this notion, Carmelita's features softened, as she realized that she'd completely forgotten the master thief was ill. As he walked to her kitchen to get a small bag, and the ice cubes, she could hear Sly sniffling, and coughing as he went.
"You came and helped me, even though you were sick…" she mumbled to herself. However, his hearing was impeccable as ever.
"Right on the dot, my lovely señorita," he grinned at her. He gingerly put the ice on her swollen ankle, making sure that it wasn't going to slide off. "I couldn't just sit back, and watch you get hurt."
Carmelita sighed. Silence fell over the two, as both retreated into their thoughts. Sly was sitting right beside her injured ankle, his eyes unfocused on a point in the wall. It was here, that Carmelita really got a good look at him. He really did look awful, with his normally well groomed fur, dishevelled, and matted with what looked like sweat. Even as she watched, he coughed again, hiding his muzzle behind his sleeve.
"Cooper…" she started, feeling a pang of guilt grip her heart. Why did he have to do this kind of thing for her? It would certainly be much easier to hate him if he wasn't so kind towards her. When he looked over at her, his chocolate brown eyes imploring, she bit her lip. "Thank you, Cooper. You always seem to have a knack for saving me. First from Clockwerk… Now this. Why do you do it?"
He didn't reply straight away.
"Well, Carmelita," he started, "I couldn't just sit back, and watch someone as lovely as yourself be hurt. It's not in my code of being a gentleman, you know." Sly offered her a weak smile, but noticed that she looked unconvinced. He sighed. "I'd probably be lying if I said I only did this because I owed you for something, because that's not the case. No, there's probably something else to all this."
"Like what?" she pressed for an answer. Carmelita really was curious to know what was driving the master thief, if only to try to distract herself from a strange feeling rising in her chest.
"I…" Sly stammered, and looked away from her, the flush on his cheeks darkening slightly. When he gathered the courage to look up again, he said, "I can't really put it into words. It'd probably take me too long."
Carmelita sighed, but suddenly laughed as she realized that the usually suave Sly Cooper, was actually at a loss for words. Her laughter took a deeper turn, and she found herself doubling over at the thought. Despite the fact that she was laughing at him, a pleasurable shiver ran up the raccoon's spine. The sound of her laughter was like a choir of angels for the raccoon, and he wanted to hear more of it. Carmelita noticed that Sly looked slightly flustered at her laughter, until she managed to calm herself down, while wiping tears of mirth away. "I-I'm sorry, but it's just very unlike you to be like this."
He frowned. "It's the cold."
Now he was trying to save face.
Carmelita shook her head, and tried to hide the growing grin she had. Normally, it would have appalled her to think that she was so easily speaking with the master thief - in her own apartment no less! - but at this moment she didn't care. It was actually rather nice to have Sly all alone, just talking, or laughing together. It was almost like… a date.
She squashed that idea as soon as it formed.
Tearing herself from her thoughts, she looked over to see that Sly was now kneeling next to her, making Carmelita yelp. "Cooper? What the hell are you doing?"
He grinned dazedly up at her, and said, "sorry, I just wanted a closer look at you smiling. I never get to see you this way."
Before she knew it, Sly was leaning upwards slightly, in the very same position that they'd been in at Krack-Karov volcano a few months ago. A blush splayed across her cheeks at the memory, and at the situation now. He was getting closer to her, his lips now mere centimetres away from her own. Carmelita was about to pull away, but a small voice stopped her.
To hell with it.
She leaned in, until their lips met, and Carmelita nearly melted into it, just like she had before at Krack-Karov. His lips were soft, and warm, something she remembered very clearly. She felt his paw gently run through her hair, while her own paws tightened on his shoulders.
Their kiss lasted for what seemed like an eternity, until they both parted, breathless.
They stared into each other's eyes, until Carmelita pulled away, blushing under her fur. She removed her paws from his shoulders, and placed a paw on his chest, feeling his heart beating furiously under her fingers. "Cooper, if you get me sick, I'll skin you alive," she threatened, but there was no real heat behind it.
He chuckled, facing away from her to cough again. Then he grinned cheekily at her. "I make no promises, Carmelita. But I could steal it away from you if you'd like."
She blushed an even brighter red, and pushed him away this time. "You just can't keep your mind out of the gutter, can you Raccoon?"
Laughing, he stood, and sat back down in his original position. "Maybe. But I'm not telling you all my secrets, gorgeous."
Rolling her eyes at the flirtatious comments, Carmelita sighed. "Well, unless there's something else you want to pull off here, then I think you should get going."
"Kicking me out so soon?" he coughed. This made the vixen regret telling him to leave, seeing as he was still out of breath, and from the short moment they'd been close to each, she'd felt the heated flesh under his fur.
Carmelita bit her lip again, a nervous habit she'd developed from a young age. Then she sighed. "Alright Cooper. You win. But I'm only letting you stay just this once."
His face seemed to brighten, and then show relief at the same time. He sagged slightly against the couch, chuckling softly. "Well that's a relief. I thought you'd be nice, and kick me out of your apartment when I'm so obviously ill."
In a dramatic show, he sneezed again, and shivered. But Carmelita saw through the act, mostly because he was smiling the entire time. The vixen chose to ignore him, and grabbed the blanket she usually tossed over the couch, and threw it to him. He took it with a thanks, and wrapped it around himself, and - much to her surprise - threw most of it over her legs and stomach.
"Can't have you getting sick too," he explained.
Again, Carmelita chose not to say a word, but instead, leaned her head back against a cushion.
"Good night, Carmelita."
"It's Inspector Fox to you, Cooper," she retorted, silently berating herself for not telling him off sooner. Before sleep managed to claim her, she managed to slur out, "don't try anything funny…"
He chuckled softly from his spot on the couch. "I'll try to control myself, Carmelita…"
If Carmelita could have, she would have kicked him, but instead, she settled for tossing a cushion at his head. She didn't even see if it hit him or not, before she drifted off to sleep.
Daylight streamed into her apartment, waking the vixen from her slumber. Blinking away the fogginess in her vision, Carmelita sat up carefully. Her ankle felt much better, but the bag of ice from before had slipped off during the night. For some reason, she felt warm, and extremely comfortable, something that wouldn't come from sleeping on the couch. It was then that she noticed she was actually in her bed.
She blinked, and sat up, noticing that she was alone, and the apartment was silent.
"Cooper?" she called hesitantly.
No one answered her calls, but she knew that he couldn't be around any more. For some reason, this made her heart ache. She glanced at her clock, and saw that it was nearly noon. Thankfully, she didn't have to go into work today, but she wondered what might have happened after she left the scene with Sly. Speaking of which, her eyes were drawn to the familiar white, and blue raccoon card sitting on her bedside table that she hadn't noticed at first.
She plucked it from its perch, and noticed that there was a note from Sly on it saying:
I'm sorry I had to leave you like this, mi amor. But I figured it would be better to let you get your beauty sleep, and for me to go back before my gang kills me. Stay off that ankle of your's, and I assure you that I'll be back to full health for our next midnight rendezvous.
- Sly
Carmelita shook her head, and opened one of the cabinets on the bedside table. She pulled out the bottom of it, and deposited the calling card there, where it joined the many others that Sly had left her over the many years she'd been chasing her.
She wasn't sure why she kept them, but the little notes he left her were certainly enough to send her heart aflutter. A sigh escaped her, when she realized something else.
It seems as though you might have stolen something more than just jewels, and artefacts, Ringtail…
I am not good at this one-shot thing, haha. Why am I even posting this. Anyway, I hope anybody who happened to read this, enjoyed it. I'll try not to delete it off the site like so many other stories before. Let me know what you all thought.