Title: Preconceptions
Summary: Five times Sharon Raydor ruins Andy Flynn's expectations.
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I/Reloaded
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Andy glared at her. Figured she would eventually get the gist if he glared hard enough, long enough at her.
"Yees," she enquired in a voice that slithered under in his skin, tingling and lighting a fire that seared. God, even her voice annoyed him. Her poignant counter stare annoyed him equally. Her styled red hair and matchy little outfit of a uniform annoyed him. Hell, even the way she held unto the files against her chest and how she stood a head taller in the high-heeled shoes annoyed him to no end.
Who in their right mind would put the wicked witch in charge of major crimes! He immediately could have slapped himself – Taylor the prick of course. Taylor, the slimy greaseball. He knew, deep down, that the Captain was merely trying to do her job – that she hadn't begged for the transfer. But forefront in his mind was that the goddamn FID captain was now in charge: the rule-abiding, sarcastic bitch who could twist everything into conduct unbecoming. Now he had to ask how high when she said jump – he didn't think so.
He narrowed his eyes and went off on her; yelled at her as he had longed to do since finding her at the crime scene, Taylor introducing her new position. This was all her fault anyhow.
She deflected his anger however, punched every angry notion out of his body. He had not expected her to do it so casually. He had expected her to yell back at him, participate in this little tirade so they could both vent whatever frustrations they had. He had expected Captain Raydor of the FID to trample him down.
But instead he got this enticing new creature; Sharon. The way her lips formed around his name and the sudden calculating look in her eyes; she had him hooked. He listened aptly as she explained her suspicions and he quickly caught on.
How was he supposed to dislike her when she deflected all his anger and instead turned conspiratorially to him, an almost expectant glint in the depths of her eyes?
Whatever fire had fueled his animosity, his resistance to her and the change, it transformed. It disappeared within him before he could contemplate it; rendered into something completely different. He quirked a smile; wonders never ceased apparently.
He could be on her team, he decided almost kindly as he followed her back to the squad room. No one else would be on her team and he knew Provenza would be even more grumpy and sarcastic than usual – angry enough for the whole squad.
No, he would quell this innate urge to flame fury within him; instead he would focus on that other most peculiar feeling.
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II/Red Tape
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He had been convinced that Captain Raydor was an old unattractive, horrible to look at bitch thanks to all the ridiculous gossip he had heard so far and from Provenza's description of her. He had expected her to be almost man-lish in her appearance, crude and most unpleasing to look at. Why else call her the wicked witch is if she wasn't ugly?
She was anything but.
Heck; she looked like a dark angel of vengeance as she glided towards him, dark expressive eyes and long alabaster legs, hair like a shining halo of unholy blood. His cock twitched.
No one had ever mentioned that the wicked witch was sexy as hell.
Why hadn't Provenza prepared him for this? He wouldn't have been so turned on otherwise! He wouldn't be standing with a silly grin as if his fantasy had come alive, marched right out of his subconscious and was now standing in front of him, hands on hips and flaunting a smirking glint in the depths of her eyes.
He cursed Provenza silently. This was not what he had expected; at all.
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III/Living Proof
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He had thought, even though beautiful and all, that Captain Raydor lived upstairs from major crimes in her little office of FID; now and again venturing down from her little lair of righteousness. Yes, the wicked, sassy witch lived upstairs, her existence solely based upon the need to antagonize his squad and make life difficult for everyone.
He hadn't made the connection that she might have a life outside of work; that she had children. That her laugh could be genuine and almost sweet.
He had never in his dreams imagined he would sitting next to her, at Christmas nonetheless, having a decent albeit somewhat weird conversation about their respective kids.
No; the only dreams he had of her were far darker and involved explicit scenarios that definitely shouldn't be mentioned let alone thought about on Christmas.
She even told him a joke – and he laughed.
Why had no one bothered to tell him that the wicked witch wasn't that wicked?
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IV/Death Warrant
Sure the wicked witch was a cop. But beyond that he hadn't thought of her as an officer. No, she reminded him more of a lawyer, dispensing away with big long words and using a rulebook as a sword as she paved her way through the LAPD, the corpses of officers in her wake.
So when she glided through his squad and hollered, 'Nobody shoot; I've got him' he nearly had a heart attack. And when she cocked her bean bag gun and shot the damn bastard right between his eyes, he was on the verge of dropping his own gun in surprise.
Why hadn't Provenza told him that captain Sharon Raydor was a first class shooter! What else had Provenza neglected to tell him about the captain when he complained about her?
The gossip didn't do her justice.
He kept the bean bag as a souvenir, twirling it between his fingers as he contemplated why he felt so aroused by the damn woman.
Shoot, he had not anticipated this.
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V/Cheaters never prosper
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Sure, they all tolerated the captain now. The squad even felt like a family again, sort of. But why, had no one told him Sharon was inside of the persona of the captain. He had thought she would become another superior, he even liked her now. But when did she move from occasionally appearing in his fantasies to the now prominent figure in every daydream and imagery he conjured.
Why had no one told him about Sharon the quirky, smiling creature who went around stealing hearts? Why, Sanchez had become fiercely protective of her. Dr. Morales joked with her. Provenza smiled at her. Why had no one warned him? He could have protected his heart then.
Wicked indeed, he thought.
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Just a little fic, borne out of that great scene in reloaded. Love how Flynn glares at her and her 'yeees' directed at him. Mmmm, great scene.
/Iso