Chapter Text
McQueen truly couldn’t wait to finally be done with their usual paperwork. He and Dooley had already stayed late a few times this week, and while Dooley isn’t allowed to touch any of it, he still stuck around the office to keep McQueen company and ramble on about the latest conspiracy theories he’s written about on his blog.
Francis only half-listens and peppers in an affirmative hum here and there, but appreciates the background noise while he’s lying through his teeth about their latest supernatural investigation in the reports, so the case sounds as Normal and Boring as possible for Scully.
“I think I’ll be able to finish this up in about five minutes, and then we can grab lunch. Thanks for staying, I know lunch break is what you’re looking forward to the most every day,” he glances up at Dooley, who grins at him from his spot leaning against the wall.
“It’s the only thing that makes having a job worth it!”
“And helping people, fighting the supernatural evil, etc. …Right?”
“Oh yes, that too! But ah, I think I forgot to tell you, Detective, I’m going out for lunch with my boyfriend today.”
McQueen fumbles with his pen as it slips from his grip and rolls across the last page of his report, leaving spots of ink splattered at the bottom half. Why does he keep insisting on writing them with the fancy fountain pen Patricia got him for his last birthday?!
Never mind the paperwork now; he has more important matters.
“Who?” he chockes out, and before Dooley could offer an explanation, in steps a man who might even give McKing a run for his money when it comes to attractiveness. His brown hair is slicked back stylishly, and he’s dressed similarly well.
He certainly does not look like a guy who buys his white shirts and slacks from the supermarket in bulk when they’re on sale, as McQueen does.
The boyfriend, apparently, only has eyes for Dooley at first, immediately leaning in to press a chaste kiss this lips. The sight sends McQueen’s stomach plummeting towards the floor with nausea.
“Oh, hey Francis, how are you?” the man smiles at him after finally noticing that they’re not alone. McQueen isn’t sure he can form a coherent sentence at the moment. Whatever comes tumbling out of his mouth is completely unfiltered and perhaps a tad accusatory.
“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend!”
Not entirely unjustified, though, because he would have appreciated if Dooley shared this very important, life-ruin— life-changing information with him.
Dooley gives him a confused frown that morphs into concern. “Uhh, yes, I did? When we started dating nearly four months ago? You’ve met Dave multiple times. Are you okay, Detective?”
What?
McQueen tries to rack his brain because that is not right, he is seeing this man—Dave, for the first time in his life.
Or… is he?
The more he thinks about it, the more memories resurface; Dooley introducing his new boyfriend to him, Dave attending their monthly Dooley family dinners, every single time in the last three months, actually. Spending his lunch time alone most days lately because Patrick is with his boyfriend.
Of course, how could he forget about Dave?
His temples are pounding, and the two cups of coffee he had earlier still threaten to be expelled out of his stomach, but he swallows the rising bile in his throat and forces a faint smile as he looks at Dave. His eyes are icy blue, piercingly so in the shitty neon lights of his office.
“I’m sorry. I must have been too caught up in the paperwork, and uhh, I think I feel a migraine coming, but have a—fun lunch.” he presses his face into his palms and only half pays attention to Dave telling him to feel better as they leave, missing Dooley’s worried gaze on him entirely.
“What the fuck?” he asks no one in particular.
Did he really forget that Dooley has a boyfriend? And why does the knowledge hurt so much, as if he wasn’t aware before? Hell, he must be quite miserable in their company after a while.
Considering his—feelings for Dooley. He’s tried to fight them tooth and nail before having to accept they weren't going anywhere.
McQueen is such a fool, not only for admitting these feelings for himself, but also for letting them fester, and God forbid, even hoping they might not be as one-sided as he thought they were. He has been so wrong.
The nausea still wouldn’t leave, even after his headache had faded to a dull pressure, so he decided to skip on food and look into Dave instead.
He couldn’t quite justify his sudden stalkerish tendencies besides a weird gut feeling.
Or maybe McQueen is just a jealous, insecure idiot.
He starts his investigation with the police database before he realises he doesn’t even know this guy’s last name. Wouldn’t he know after four months of knowing him?
Texting Raxa instead of Dooley seems like a better idea because he already came off way too strange in front of them earlier. He does remember all of them hanging out together at some point. At some place. The details are a bit fuzzy. Nevertheless, if she has no idea what McQueen is talking about, then he was right, and they have a problem to deal with.
“Hey Raxa, do you happen to know Dooley’s boyfriend’s full name?” Fortunately (Unfortunately?) Raxa is entirely unsurprised by the mention of Dave.
“Kind of a weird thing to ask, but sure! His name is David Nelson.”
“Okay, thx. Don’t ask why I needed it,” he adds, flustered and regretting it immediately because if anything, that makes him look even more suspicious.
“Didn’t plan to, Detective. I figured you were just having a senior moment.”
McQueen sputters at his phone.
“I’m not that old!”
He hits up the police database at first, and although his name is quite general, there is no exact match. Probably a good thing, at least Dooley isn’t dating some criminal.
Then, he opens Google and stares at the search bar blankly for a couple of seconds before reaching for his phone again.
“Hey, do you know what social media people use these days?”
“…”
“Stop judging me and just help, dammit!”
“Are you trying to stalk Dooley’s boyfriend on Instagram?”
“I’m not stalking him.”
“Well, if you were I can just share his profile with you I guess… But trust me, Detective, you need to find better coping mechanisms than that. I’ve been there, heartbreak sucks.”
McQueen flushes, glad to be alone in his office so no one can witness his embarrassment.
“Either way, here is the link. Be careful and don’t accidentally heart a picture from 2012.”
“Have you done that before?”
“I still lie awake at night thinking about it sometimes…”
Turns out Dave’s page looks completely normal. Lots of hiking photos, the guy sure likes nature, apparently. He also seems to be fairly well off, if the expensive-looking restaurants here and there are any indication.
Dammit.
He gives up despite the strange feeling that remains, and Dooley soon returns anyway, Dave in tow. They’re talking about something Francis only catches the tail end of, and the adoring look Dooley gives him feels like a vice grip around his heart.
How has he been dealing with this for months?
“Feeling better?” Dave asks, seemingly genuinely interested in his well-being, and Francis hates him, he can’t help it.
“Sort of, yes.”
“Good, take it easy, Detective. And I’ll see you tonight.” He turns to Dooley, only pressing a kiss to his cheek this time before he leaves.
“Damn, are you sure you didn’t get a stomach bug or something? You’re so pale.” Dooley asks after taking a look at him. “More than usual, I mean.”
“Thanks, Dooley.” He deadpans. “I’m fine.”
Despite saying that, something is definitely wrong with him, or with Dave and the more he tries to push the thought away, the more it keeps bugging him.
“Just a bit out of it. It’s not like I’d have time to get sick anyway,” he huffs, taking one mournful look at the last page he ruined earlier and then promptly forgot about.
“You’re overworking yourself as it is. We could just take the day off after you’re done with copying that page over,” he peers over McQueen’s shoulder to take a look at the damage. “Eh, actually, I’d just leave it. I’ve submitted reports in a worse state.”
“I know, that’s why you’re not allowed to do them this week. I had to rewrite one case completely because it was covered in hot sauce splotches, and you went off on a tangent halfway through it about proper protection against aliens trying to monitor our brains.”
“Well, you can never be too careful! Besides, me not helping you with paperwork is really only a punishment for you, you do realize that, right?”
Francis sighs, unable to hide the fondness of it with exasperation. “I know...”
Dooley puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. McQueen has to hold back from leaning into him. “Seriously, though, you’ve been working so much, you deserve a little break. I’ll tell Chief Scully you’ve been projectile vomiting all day, and drive you home.”
“Maybe just drive me home, and I will call her from the car.” Francis stands, stretching. He hardly even stood up from his desk today to use the restroom.
He gathers the papers from his desk and tries his best to not think about Dave.
Turns out, not thinking about him is more difficult than he thought it would be because Dooley has to mention him or something funny he said an irritating amount of times. Was he always like this since they started dating? If yes, why is McQueen suddenly so bothered by it?
“I can stay over a bit if you want, say hi to P.D.”, Dooley offers once they stop in front of his apartment building.
“I thought you had plans with your… boyfriend.”
Even saying it out loud feels strange.
“Nah, not until later. We’re just going on a date night for a movie anyway.” Dooley has that little smile when talking about Dave again, and Francis truly has no idea how he’s going to deal with this in the long run.
“How did you meet again?” he asks, because if anything, he could get more information on this guy besides the mostly irrelevant things Dooley has been gushing about.
“Oh, don’t you remember? We met in the woods!”
…
“What?”
“Well, I mean, you know, he loves hiking, and we happened to run into him while the Bloodwolves were getting their ‘Bear Petting badge.”
“That’s a whole dangerous can of worms I will not open right now, and we’ll definitely talk about later.”
“Obviously, the only bears we are looking for are the ones set loose by the local circus near the edge of the woods after they were shut down last week, so they’re totally harmless. And they do some sick tricks in exchange for sandwiches!”
He continues after Francis only stares at him blankly. “Anyway, Dave tripped and twisted his ankle, apparently, so good thing we came across him because carrying him back to camp was much faster than his limping. And well, we exchanged numbers, and he asked me out on a date shortly after.” Dooley shrugs, almost a little flustered.
“Huh, that is unusual but plausible, I suppose,” McQueen mutters. He doesn’t know what he expected. A sort of meet-cute instead of Dave somehow kidnapping and brainwashing Dooley into being in a relationship with him would certainly be less insane.
McQueen lets them into his apartment, and P.D. winds around his legs right away, meowing loudly.
“I know, buddy, I’ll feed you right away,” he snorts, leaning down to scratch at the cat’s ears.
He makes them coffee, and they talk about things other than Dave, thankfully, before Dooley has to leave in a couple of hours.
Still, even as McQueen finished up on the remainder of his report and he’s lying in bed with P.D. curled up on his chest, he can’t shake the feeling that something is not right.
After a couple of days and even more frequent run-ins with Dave, McQueen realised he might have been unreasonable about him.
He is a great guy, objectively. Even McKing seems to like and respect him, despite Dave not entertaining his bullying. He shuts his mocking down every time, even when he’s only picking at McQueen and not necessarily Dooley.
Although all that seems to do is give McKing more ammo against him, comparing the two of them as if McQueen wouldn’t know how much better Dave is than him already.
He’d lie if he said it doesn’t get to him a little.
Solving cases with Dooley is a good distraction, as any, at least their dynamic is unchanged while working, and it’s the only peace of mind McQueen gets. They rarely meet, if at all, outside of work anymore. Dooley slowly stops offering to say hi to P.D. and just drops him off after work with a ‘good night, Detective’.
No movie nights, no occasional bowling on the weekends.
Hell, McQueen thinks the last time Dooley even used his first name was months ago. They’ve been morphing from close friends to colleagues, and it sort of terrifies McQueen.
Dooley does invite him out to the Camp Site for a night with the Bloodwolves, and normally, he’d consider saying no because the—chaos of the kids is usually a bit much for him, but he agrees if it means spending some time with Dooley.
In hindsight, he should have expected Dave to come along as well.
His presence certainly soured the trip a bit since Dooley was way too preoccupied with him, so Francis was left to hang out with the rest of the Bloodwolves.
He didn’t actually mind all that much, they’re good kids. Well, most of the time…
Since the dorms are not big enough for all of them, McQueen takes one tent while Dooley and Dave take the other. Dooley said it’s not super cold yet to not have the ‘real Bloodwolf experience’ — Francis would disagree in hindsight — and they keep the fire going anyway.
Briefly, McQueen wonders if that could be a fire hazard, before ultimately filing it away as a forgivable oversight for atmosphere-setting purposes. And warmth.
Because trying to sleep in an uncomfortable and nearly not warm enough sleeping bag turns out to be a challenge. He even has difficulty falling asleep in his own bed most nights since his brain rarely shuts the hell up, so he doesn’t know what he expected.
This is stupid, he wishes he could have just left earlier. He could have driven home in the Popo Moto (great, now he calls it that too, because of Dooley). Dave would’ve taken Dooley and the kids home in his own car. He can afford a nice one, unlike McQueen...
No, he had to stay out of pure spite and to show he’s not as much of a loser as everyone makes him out to be. Especially compared to Dave, who is clearly far more capable when it comes to camping. He proved that multiple times today, helping the kids earn three badges while Francis mostly tried to keep up with them and catch a few moments with Dooley when he could.
He gives up on any chance of sleep after tossing and turning for an hour and mentally goes over their last case when the zip of the other tent interrupts his thoughts. There are footsteps approaching, and McQueen figures Dooley is looking for a late-night snack or something, until they stop right in front of his tent.
McQueen’s heart rate rises as he goes very still, barely daring to breathe. Normally, this would not be a big deal; no one else is here besides them, and clearly it’s either Dooley or Dave since he heard them climb out of the other tent, only…
The glow of the fire behind the figure illuminates its silhouette through the tarp, and Francis doesn’t remember either of them having long claws on elongated fingers that reach down to the middle of their calves. The creature seems tall and bony, even while slightly hunched over as if it's leaning towards the opening of the tent.
McQueen takes a shaky breath, glancing around for any weapon in his proximity. He only finds a heavy-duty flashlight, which he reaches for as quietly as he can and tucks into his coat pocket.
Yes, he is wearing his coat to bed. It’s cold, shut up.
Before he could ready himself for the creature to rip the tent flap open with its claws, the silhouette retreats with carefully measured footsteps. Francis just sits there for a minute, trying to catch his breath and wondering what the fuck that was.
His heart skips a beat when he realises that it’s not the priority he should be wondering about right now, but whether that thing decided to go to the dorms instead or to maul Dooley and Dave.
As much as he would rather jump out of a moving police car than step outside right now, his worry and saviour complex wins over the anxiety. Self-preservation? He’s never heard of it.
As quietly as he can manage, he unzips the tent and climbs out. Standing by the fire is much nicer than being in his sad little sleeping bag, but he has no time to warm his freezing hands right now.
The area is quiet, and he considers checking on Dooley and Dave, because someone did leave that tent, so what if it was Dooley and he got attacked by that creature?
McQueen would never forgive himself.
The tent is still slightly open, the flaps of it moving in the gentle breeze, so he carefully peeks inside and, to his immense relief, finds Dooley sleeping there, sprawled out in the zipped-together sleeping bags, almost taking up both of them.
McQueen shivers at the sight of his naked chest, not for any nefarious reasons (Get your head out of the gutter!), only because he cannot believe how he’s not absolutely freezing.
Although he’d lie if he said the sight of his strong biceps doesn’t make his insides squirm pleasantly.
Focus, McQueen, good lord!
Dave was the one who left, apparently and as much as Francis hates the guy, he doesn’t want him to get ripped to shreds by the creatures of the night, so he figures he should probably make sure he’s okay. Ugh…
He stands up straight and almost jumps out of his skin at the man’s voice behind him.
“Can I help you, Detective?”
He speaks quietly, being considerate of Dooley, perhaps or just wanted to scare the shit out of McQueen.
Both are equally plausible.
McQueen spins around, one hand gripping the heavy flashlight in his coat pocket. Dave’s gaze flickers to it as if he’d know, only for a moment. A chill runs down Francis’s spine.
“Just thought I saw something outside and wanted to make sure it’s—not a bear, or anything dangerous.”
“Really? What did you see?” Dave raises his eyebrows at him, tilting his head.
“It was—” McQueen trails off, tries to recall the figure, yet the memory is hazy, like a dream. Was it a dream? Maybe exhaustion took over, and he fell asleep after all.
The silhouette of the creature projected onto his tent is melding together in his mind as if someone smeared wet paint around on paper. Did it have wings? Francis could swear it had wings. Or were they big arachnid legs protruding from his shoulders? Maybe it looked a little like the Mothman, but that is impossible, they’ve met the Mothman, and they’re actually kind of a chill creature.
“Not entirely sure, I think it was sort of bony and unnatural,” he mutters, a dull ache pulsing behind his eyeballs.
He made a point to not take his gaze off of Dave, and yet when he blinks and focuses on him again, he nearly flinches. His piercing blue eyes seem to glow bright white under the shadows cast by the fire on his face. He blinks, and it’s gone in an instant.
“Um, your eyes are kind of weirdly bright sometimes,” he says, not wanting to outright confront him, he just feels like he has to say something because they have been just standing there staring at each other for about a minute, and it was getting awkward.
“It’s a medical condition.” Dave smiles, which doesn’t quite seem sincere, but you know what, McQueen doesn’t feel like pushing his luck further tonight. He can’t arrest the guy for having creepy eyes.
“Oh, okay. I’ll just go back to bed then.” The entire time he fumbles with his tent embarrassingly (the zipper picked the perfect moment to get stuck after he climbed inside), he feels Dave’s gaze on him.
It’s beyond unnerving.
After he finally figured out how to close the tent, there was some shuffling from the other one, and Francis figured he went back to bed. Next to Dooley.
McQueen’s heart sinks. He spends the rest of the night sitting in his sleeping bag and trying to remember the creature, but it only makes the pain in his head worse, so he focuses on any noises coming from the other tent — just in case — until the sun rises.
He looks and feels absolutely miserable in the morning, and Dooley’s gentle teasing about how he’s such a city guy doesn’t help. Although McQueen can never be mad at his quips, especially when Dooley presses a hot mug in his still-cold hands at the same time.
While Francis is occupied with nearly burning his tongue on the coffee, Dooley musses up his hair affectionately and only laughs at the tired, disgruntled noise McQueen makes.
He hides his smile with another sip, but thinks Dooley noticed anyway. He missed this.
Thanks to the caffeine, he is able to drive them all home a couple of hours later, besides Devon, who was already picked up by his parents early in the morning. And apparently, Dave had to leave very early as well. Dooley said he was nowhere to be found in the morning. He did text him about some sort of work emergency, at least. Which is strange, on a Sunday.
Dooley is the last one to be dropped off, and Francis is grateful they have some time alone. If he deliberately drives a little slower than usual, then sue him! (Don’t, actually, he can’t afford a lawsuit.)
“Did you sleep well last night? Didn’t notice anything—unusual?”
“Nope! I always sleep like a baby in nature’s lap.”
“Weird way to phrase that, but sure. You looked more like a bear in the middle of hibernation.” McQueen laughs softly.
“Uhh, how do you know that?” Dooley at least sounds sort of amused and not pissed.
“Oh, well—I mean—I wasn’t being weird! There was something outside, a noise, I thought I saw something too and had to check on you, make sure you’re alright…” he keeps his gaze firmly on the road, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the wheel. He knows his face is burning.
“Ah, that’s sweet of you, Detective—Francis,” he corrects himself, since they’re technically not working. “I didn’t notice anything, so it must have been nothing dangerous or important.”
McQueen hesitates. He keeps replying in his head how Dave sneaked up on him, technically. Francis didn’t even hear his footsteps behind him. Possibly, he just wasn’t paying attention. And his eyes, what is going on with them? He makes a mental note to text Raxa for some research and check his own occult books as well.
‘Medical condition, my ass…’ he thinks.
“What’s with your ass?” Dooley looks at him, confused, and Francis realises he may have muttered that out loud. Curse him for getting so used to thinking out loud…
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he sputters.
“I mean, I wasn’t worried about the state of your ass, it’s just fine as it is.” Dooley chuckles.
“What—”
“Nothing. Look at that, we are here already! Thanks for driving me, Francis. And you know, for joining us. I know you hate this sort of stuff.”
“I don’t hate it— I mean, I do hate camping. But not spending time with you. That’s always great.” He’s too tired for his brain-to-mouth filter to function today, apparently, so he should just shut up forever before he spews some more embarrassing stuff or accidentally confesses his undying love for Dooley. Especially when he smiles at McQueen so fondly, eyes warm.
“I know, I’m sorry that we are not hanging out much lately. I’ve been busy with you know—” he gestures vaguely, meaning his relationship probably. “When Dave is around, it’s like—I can’t focus on anyone else for too long…” he frowns slightly, and Francis files that reaction away for later scrutiny. And then Dooley shakes it off like nothing happened. “Anyway, that’s what it’s like to be in love, I guess,” he snorts.
“Yes, I suppose…” Francis trails off. Dooley is not entirely wrong, he thinks. Still, in hindsight, something is not right about the way he gets around Dave. McQueen has dismissed Dooley’s doting as the honeymoon phase or him simply being an attentive boyfriend. Now, he’s not so sure.
“We have something important to announce,” Dooley says, when there is a slight lull in the conversation during their monthly family dinners at his place. McQueen tries his very best to not be bitter over the fact that Dave is apparently considered family now as well and must be present.
It’s not like they haven’t been dating for only five months—
“We’re engaged!” Dooley grins brightly, and Francis’s mind screeches to a halt. He nearly chokes on his food while Patricia cheers and nearly jumps out of her seat to hug Patrick, congratulating them profusely.
McQueen takes a long sip of water after some coughing and stares at them, wide-eyed. “Already? You’ve been dating for a few months—Isn’t this a bit sudden?”
“Well, yeah, things progressed a little fast, but why wait? I know what I want,” He smiles at Dave and covers his hand with his on the table. McQueen only now notices the simple silver band on his ring finger.
He can’t deny Dooley is exactly the sort of person who would rush into something serious headfirst, but a marriage?! McQueen thought he had more common sense than that.
“We already have a date for the wedding, a week from now, because as I said, why wait?” Patrick laughs, leaning into Dave, who agrees.
“If you’re sure…” Francis trails off; he cannot bring himself to congratulate them. He almost wants to grab Dooley by the shoulders and shake him, ask him, ‘What are you doing?!’
Only, he can’t ruin their relationship just because the mere thought of losing him completely makes Francis want to throw up.
“I’ve never been so sure about anything,” Dooley tells him, eyes on Dave, he is not even sparing a glance at McQueen. Even then, he can see Dooley’s eyes are almost glossed over.
The rest of the night is a blur for Francis, he didn’t even touch the dessert or the rest of his dinner, for that matter. Dooley catches him alone in the doorway as they are getting ready to leave. He stops, despite wanting nothing more than to get back to his apartment and try to figure out what sort of parallel dimension he fell into a few weeks ago.
“You okay, Francis? You seemed a little out of it tonight.”
“Yeah, I mean, I think I’m still a little shocked. Didn’t think you’d get married so suddenly.”
Dooley offers him an apologetic smile, though he really doesn’t have anything to be sorry about. “I know, it was unexpected for me too, but Dave had a whole romantic thing planned to ask me, and well, I said yes,” he laughs softly. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you’re totally going to be my best man, I wouldn’t have anyone else take that role.” He must sense McQueen’s slight hesitation because his smile fades slightly. “You will be my best man, right…?”
“Yeah, of course, buddy. I’d love to be your best man.” Francis’ smile cannot be more obviously strained, and if Dooley notices, he has the decency not to point it out.
“Great, I can’t wait!”
Raxa texts him later that night, and at first, Francis thinks it’s about the research he asked her to do.
“Dooley just texted me. I’m sorry, Detective.”
He turns off his phone without giving an answer and dives into another book on cryptids, looking for multiverses and anything with glowing eyes and possibly weird memory-altering abilities.
McQueen means to speak to Dooley the entire week about how something is not quite right with Dave and how he shouldn’t marry him because it’s a bad idea.
Yet every time he works up the nerve, he has no clue what evidence to present. He’s narrowed down the creature Dave might be to ten possible options, which is entirely too many. He can’t just tell Dooley that he shouldn’t marry the guy he’s clearly in love with over a gut feeling he has.
McQueen has never felt more useless and incompetent in his life. This isn’t a proper case; there are hardly any clues to investigate, and most importantly, it’s about Dooley and possibly ruining their friendship.
Not to mention that everyone likes Dave. Even Raxa was so charmed by him the whole time when they grabbed lunch together on Wednesday.
Francis has to admit he felt a little betrayed.
How is it possible that no one else thinks something is wrong with this guy?
A part of him thinks there is something wrong with him and not Dave. The headaches, his spotty memory. Possible hallucinations? Maybe they have nothing to do with the paranormal, and he should go to a doctor…
No, he must be doing this, making McQueen doubt himself, to throw him off trail. He’s planning something bad, McQueen knows it.
He just needs to prove it.
Turns out he cannot prove shit by the time they’re a day before the wedding, and he decides to present his case to Dooley at work anyway, right before their lunch break.
He has a theory, and it may not be a solid one, but it sure is a theory, goddammit!
He pocketed the corkboard he bought when Dooley went missing. Instead of various suspects and the map, now the board has various cryptids, sketches, and notes pinned all over it in an organised manner. All connected with colourful strings for flavour because McQueen is a man of aesthetics.
“Dooley, can we talk before you leave for lunch?” he asks, pushing the pile of papers aside. They’re really behind on all that, it was a busy week.
“Sure, what’s up, Detective?” He seems like his usual self, maybe a bit distracted. He keeps fidgeting with his ring, and that hazy look in his eyes is ever-present now. McQueen does not like it one bit.
“It’s about Dave. I—don’t think you should marry him, Dooley. I don’t know what he is exactly, but somehow he has everyone he meets charmed. I have a horrible feeling about him ever since he showed up in your life.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean anything! He’s a really loveable guy, of course, everyone likes him.” Dooley huffs.
“That’s not the only weird thing I’ve noticed,” McQueen presents him with the evidence board. “Have you noticed how strange his eyes are sometimes? I did a sort of example of what I mean in Photoshop.”
“Your computer can run Photoshop?”
“Okay, I did it in Paint. The point is, he is messing with my head!” Francis hisses desperately. “With all of our heads, especially yours,” he takes a shaky breath as he looks at Dooley. “Please believe me. These are the cryptids I could narrow down the list to. It’s entirely possible he is none of them; however, I have some pretty good leads in this case.”
“Detective—Francis, just stop! This is insane. I knew you were weird about the wedding, our whole relationship, really. This is not a case, this is my life!” Dooley actually glares at him, not playfully, not pouting as he does sometimes because McQuwen told him no. He’s actually mad at Francis, and the gravity of it is so startling that he shuts up immediately. “You cannot accuse someone, especially the love of my life, of baseless bullshit.”
“You don’t understand, it’s not baseless! I think he’s messing with our memory somehow and planting false ones in our heads. Try to remember the details of how you met.”
“McQueen, enough! I don’t want to hear it. I’m taking my lunch break!” Dooley scoffs. “And just so you know, I wanted to invite you because I missed our lunches together, but I don’t feel like it anymore,” he practically storms out, leaving a stunned Detective in the middle of his office.
The rest of their workday is already way too awkward, however, Dooley can’t be too mad at him either for long periods of time. That’s just how their relationship worked.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” McQueen says into the tense silence between them because he cannot take it anymore. Clearly, Dooley won’t be any help in this ‘case’, and he has to solve it himself. How he hates working alone...
“Me too. Look, I know it’s a lot of changes and that you don’t deal well with changes in general.” McQueen has to admit that is true. “But Dave is great, he likes you and does think you’re an excellent detective. He’s told me multiple times!” Dooley smiles at him softly.
Francis does feel some guilt creep up on him. Maybe he is wrong this time, and Dave is harmless. Who isn’t a little supernatural or weird in this city? Raxa dated a ghost, and she’s just fine.
“I’ll still do my job with you, nothing could keep me from that. I mean, a lot of things could keep me from paperwork, but… I do enjoy helping people and handcuffing the bad guys.”
“I just started to trust you again with reports, do not ruin it.” McQueen threatens lightly. His mood improves a little because Dooley is probably right.
“Hey, I washed my hands after lunch this time! No taco sauce anywhere near the important documents.”
“I don’t think I should specify for you to do that in the first place…”
“Anyway, I still want you to be my best man. Tonight we are finishing up with decorating the Camp Site for the big day tomorrow!”
“Why have the wedding there?” McQueen ignores his mood, taking a nose-dive again at the mention of the wedding. He has to get over him.
“It’s spacious enough, and Dave wanted to be close to the woods. He’s really, really into nature.” Dooley snorts. “Sometimes I think if he didn’t wanna marry me, he would marry a tree or something.”
That slightly unnerves McQueen (Not Dave marrying a tree, he’s seen people do weirder things around here, McQueen doesn’t judge), however, he chooses to say nothing this time.
“Are you sure you’re okay, though? Like that whole board you did...” Dooley trails off. “It sure seemed like you researched a good many hours.”
“I’m not crazy, Dooley!” he snaps, maybe a bit too defensive. He has been trying to convince himself of that this whole time.
“I didn’t say you were!” Dooley sputters.
“It was implied in the subtext!”
“Well, I don’t control the author’s choices!”
“Look, I’m fine—I was wrong about him. Sometimes I am prone to seeing things that are not there,” he sighs.
“You’re having hallucinations?” Dooley furrows his brows, even more concerned. McQueen isn’t doing a very good job of convincing him he’s not crazy.
“No—I meant metaphorically. Mostly… Anyway, I just need some rest, I promise. Dealing with the witches yesterday was draining.”
“Heh, literally! They tried to drain our life force to make themselves younger. You didn’t even look that much older, just had more grey hairs.” Dooley laughs.
McQueen throws a pencil at him as an answer.