Work Text:
October 16 2027, 7:30am
Detention Center
The length of time between his last case and now was growing thicker by the minute, and the ticking clock of it all made Simon restless. Slated to die in an indeterminate future. Working on cases as a prosecutor had no chance of setting him free, but it did give him something to do. Something to do that had nothing to do with the select group of prisoners he had no interest in talking to especially. He had to be picky to survive, and it came naturally for him.
He only wished that sense of picking and choosing applied to his parole officer… no, his detective… well, his chaperone. That was the best word for it. If he had a choice, he’d definitely shop around to find someone more competent and less… annoying.
This being said, he would probably have to accept that no one who fit those parameters likely wanted to work with him either. Came with the territory. So, no matter how many aisles he walked down, he’d still end up with the one that hurt his head with his intense behaviour.
For example…
“Good morning, Prosecutor Blackquill!” Fool Bright called from the other side of the bars. “What a beautiful day! I hope you get to enjoy this lovely holiday weather we’re having!”
Simon grimaced. Very easy for someone with freedom to comment on not going outside enough. Processing the rest of what he said, Simon narrowed his eyes. “Holiday? What are you blathering about? There’s no holidays in this part of the month.” Surely Fool Bright wasn’t daft enough to celebrate Halloween weeks early.
Daft or not, Fool Bright laughed in response. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, sir, it is a holiday today!” He beamed, hands on his hips. “I’ll give you another guess.”
The prosecutor stared. It wasn’t like he used a first guess to begin with. He quickly raked his eyes around Fool Bright to find any indication, fixating on his bust. The gold buttons usually running down his coat were replaced by polished wooden heart decals. Or perhaps they were button covers that he heard were a fashion trend in the 1980s. Fool Bright really couldn’t help but show his age. But the choice of hearts…? What was that supposed to mean? He really wanted to get out of this conversation, so he decided to go with the first thought that came to him. “The hearts, are you celebrating Lewis Carroll’s birthday?” Simon guessed halfheartedly.
Taken aback, Fool Bright’s eyebrows shot up, the rest of his face not catching up with him until he pushed his sunglasses upwards to hide his display of shock. “Um, no sir. I don’t even know when that is.” He regained his composure, smile growing with it. “It’s Sweetest Day, sir!”
Huh?
Simon quirked an eyebrow. “Sweetest Day? Is that some sort of holiday your family told you was a real holiday and no one in your adult life corrected you up until now?”
Fool Bright shook his head no, not absorbing the insult in the slightest. “Not at all. It’s a real holiday. Third Saturday in October every year. And that’s today!”
It was a struggle to accept this sort of thing, presented by Fool Bright or not. “Sweetest Day,” he repeated, the words still feeling foreign on his tongue when put together. “Is this supposed to be some sort of knockoff take on St. Valentine’s Day? I believe it’s highly inappropriate for you to celebrate it then, considering our professional relationship.” Simon wasn’t sure if he was a bigger liar or a hypocrite in the moment, but he preferred pot stirrer.
The pot remained unstirred, with Fool Bright barely faltering. “It’s a strictly platonic holiday! In origins of course, you can make anything romantic these days,” he amended. “It was invented by some committee to pay special attention to newsboys, orphans, old people, and poor folk, by giving them candy they wouldn’t likely give to themselves!” Tears flooded his eyes. “How touching it all is, right?”
“Which one am I?” Simon asked, stone faced.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Newsboy, orphan, elderly person, or impoverished. Which one are you suggesting I am?” Simon asked, tapping the side of his head, challenging him to pick the lesser of the four accusations.
“I- well!” Fool Bright struggled. “I don’t think of you as any of those! It was simply their example.”
Really, he needn’t be so jumpy. But at the same time, it’d be awkward to correctly call him an orphan as an adult. “I’m still not fully convinced this a real holiday.”
“Prosecutor Blackquill! I would never lie to you!” Simon would especially hope not for something as trivial as this.
“So,” he countered, “if I was to ask the others at the prosecutor’s office, then the majority of those there would recognize the holiday, regardless of whether they are celebrating it right now?”
Fool Bright thought about it for a minute before his hands gravitated to his hips, eyes looking up and to the left. “No. Probably not.”
Simon’s shoulders tensed, desperately wishing he had his blade. Even if he would only threaten him with it- his code making him unwilling to strike someone without a weapon of their own- a threat was enough to sate his annoyance. “Fool Bright, I hope you won’t miss one of your fingers later when I send Taka upon it to feast for your insolence.”
Fool Bright’s hands shot up in defense. “I mean I only suppose so! I’m not sure where everyone is from.”
Simon blinked. “Is this a regional holiday?”
“Somewhat!” He replied cheerfully, dropping any defenses he put up only a moment ago. “It’s only celebrated in some parts of California. It’s celebrated more frequently in the Midwest.”
Closing his eyes for an excruciatingly long time, Simon managed to peel them open only far enough to glare at Fool Bright. “Right. You’re from there.”
“I don’t appreciate the tone, but I sure am,” Fool Bright confirmed. “Born, raised, and here I am now!”
Fool Bright from a flyover state… Simon wondered how his eccentric tendencies translated over there. “This has been… educational, but why are you here?” Simon asked. “This conversation could have been a card from the dollar store.”
“I already told you: it’s Sweetest Day!” Fool Bright answered. “I’m giving you a present.”
A present? That must have been fun to explain to the guards at the front. “I have nothing to give you in return, nor would I want to, given the opportunity.”
“That’s alright,” Fool Bright replied, ignoring the last part, “we can share what I made.”
Well, at least the use of ‘made’ eliminated the possibility of it being a stuffed animal Simon couldn’t possibly explain wanting or owning to anyone else in here. “Entertain me.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Fool Bright whipped out a plastic reusable box. He opened it to reveal a collection of chocolate dipped strawberries. They varied in size and in quality, not the kind one would overpay for at a store. “Ta da! What do you think?”
Simon stared at the fruit and didn’t respond, stomach desperately wanting to speak first.
“Made them myself. I tried one as I made them, so they should be fine. Came out well, right?” Fool Bright continued.
Not wanting to give up the stoic position, Simon nodded slightly. “Yes.” He pointedly glanced at the cell door and then back to Fool Bright. “Wh- what are you doing now?”
Fool Bright gestured to his slightly open mouth before pointing at Simon. He picked up one of the larger pieces of fruits and pointed it at him. Rapidly, he batted his eyes in innocence behind his tan glasses.
“I-!” Simon stammered, face stinging red. “I’m not an animal at a bloody petting zoo!”
“Just this once!” Fool Bright promised, cheeks twitching and his voice struggling to not break into laughter. It was as if this was his plan from the beginning.
Simon wondered why he even bothered, before parting his lips, moving his face closer to the bars. Fool Bright’s fingers passed through the gaps, berry close to his mouth. Disgusted with himself, Simon leaned in, taking the fruit between his teeth. As soon as he felt his teeth dig into the thin layer of chocolate, Simon bit down aggressively, yanking his head back, the majority of the fruit trapped within his maw.
“Be careful,” Fool Bright laughed, pulling his hand back. “You almost took one of my fingers with you!”
“Good,” Simon sneered, chewing the treat. Despite it being a dark chocolate, the sugar content was far higher than anything he had eaten in the longest time. It almost gave him a stomach cramp on instinct, but he forced the itch down, desperate to relish the flavour and rake the bland taste he was used to off of his tongue. He wasn’t sure if any of the juice dripped onto his face, so he rubbed at it with his sleeve, unwilling for Fool Bright to comment on it first.
“Did you like it?” Fool Bright asked, eating at the remaining fruit of the strawberry.
“It was… fine.” Simon admitted.
The halfhearted compliment was more than enough, Fool Bright’s face lighting up like a firecracker with glee. “Oh, I’m so happy you think so, sir! Making chocolate isn’t as easy as your mangas suggest.”
From the manga Simon had read, he wouldn’t know. “Right.”
“Well,” Fool Bright closed up the box, “I should go and give these out to the others back at the precinct.” He smiled, which grew bigger as he noticed a twinge of disappointment on Simon’s lips. “Unless?”
“No,” Simon declined, a simple shake to his head. “I’d feel sick if I ate another one right now. I’d much rather eat one tomorrow after my stomach acclimates.”
Fool Bright beamed. “Sounds like you’re inviting me to visit you tomorrow!”
“Th-that’s not what I said!”
“It’s what you meant!” Fool Bright teased. “See you tomorrow! Iiiin Sweetest Justice we trust!” Fool Bright saluted before walking off.
Simon sighed. Undeniably annoying. However, he couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of appreciation. He didn’t even get Valentine’s gifts from deranged fangirls obsessed with his Twisted Samurai persona anymore.
Shaking his head, he walked back to his bed, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his head. Staring up at the ceiling, all he could envision was Fool Bright’s stupid bright smile. Of course, he had no interest in telling Fool Bright any of that appreciation: he’d never hear the end of it. But… he couldn’t honestly say ‘no’ if he got asked whether or not he was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow.
None of that made Sweetest Day a real holiday though, he decided.