A/N: I have been searching high and low for more lgbt detective/buddy-cop stories in Wattpad. My patience has thinned, so I decided to write my own. Bear with my shitty amateur writing.
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POV RILEY:

If I had to summarize Upside City in a sentence, it would be, "nothing insane happens here." Surprisingly, for a city, the area here for the last decade has been oddly peaceful. Most crimes have been petty drunk assault, drug store robberies, and non deadly hit-and-runs. My division feels like a snooze fest because we are hardly called for in this unusual city. Whenever we get a call, the whole team all wants to jump on the case, but before the day even ends, the case is closed because two or three detectives found the moron before it even gets heard from the press. And that's damn fast.

I'm not saying Upside should have more murder cases, but couldn't my job at least be more interesting? I'm not asking for more bodies to show up out of the blue, but it's always the same damn thing over and over again. The end result is always the usual: the suspect left a huge ass foot print, the suspect was seen leaving the apartment- the suspect this, the suspect that. I'm selfish, I know. I once mentioned that to my chief and she hit me on the backside of my head. The old lady said, "Back in my day, this place was a hell-hole." I wonder what changed.

It's fortunate that Upside isn't whatever hell-hole Chief Dean mentioned. It's less stress on the whole law enforcement. Hell, the chief made us on homicide help out the other slightly-more-busier-than-us divisions. I didn't mind; I enjoyed my work even though it can be gruesome and depressing at times. I'm lucky though, having a city that isn't eventful.

The song, "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin plays from my smartphone at the nightstand. I set the song as my ringtone for work; it's a habit I do to distinguish which calls I should pick up and which I shouldn't. Regular calls are the phone's default ringtone and my insane parents have Billy Joel's "My Life" as a red flag.

I nuzzle my head into my bed's pillow, feeling too lazy to roll closer to where my phone is. What are they calling me for? Today's my day off! If they wanted someone, they can call Jenkins and Dick because we have plenty of detectives on duty.

The song abruptly ends. I let out a sigh of relief and let my eyes close. Despite having not much work, I still work hard on the cases I get. I had been up late last night so I could finish filing a report for a recent death that turned out to be suicide. I completed the report early so I don't have things to do over my day off. It payed off-

The phone blasts "Renegade" by the Styx now. Chief Dean's calling.

It's payed off until now. I groan in irritation, but I know I have to take the call, whether I liked it or not.... though I'm curious why the chief called. It must be rather urgent if they have to disturb me. I fling the covers off, feeling the warmth leave my body. The chilly weather wakes me up fully, getting me on my feet. I reach for my phone and take the call.

"Chief?" I ask.

"Swanson," her voice sounds oddly hurried. "Hurry down to the station!" A shout can be heard from wherever she is, and she sighs, "You got your stupid wish. Get your ass here now." Before I can even question her, she drops the call. I narrow my eyes, setting the phone back to my side.

My wish? I knew what she was taking about but that's just silly. I rush to change into any work clothes that aren't stained with coffee before sliding my things into my pockets. I grab my coat and leave out of my small apartment, not wasting any more time.

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POV ?????

Tick tock tick, goes the clock. Drip drop drip goes the man's tears squatted below me. I smile tightly at the man. He knows what he's done wrong; that's why I'm here to solve his problem. Just with a couple of words and a couple of helpful drugs, I persuade the man about his wrong-doings. Now he can redeem himself!

"I-I," he chokes on his sobs, "I k-know. I did it. She's gone because of me!" More disgusting tears stream down his guilty face. His body shakes and his arms are wrapped around him. The drugs I gave him are scattered around him. "W-what can I do?! How do I pay for what I've done?!"

My gloved hands toss him a rope. The man stares at it in awe, halting his sobs. A trembling hand picks up the rope. Fingers trace the tied noose and a sad smile appears on the broken man's face. His pained gaze looks up at my deadpan one. The man nods, "This- This should repay for her right? Heh. Right?" The drugs sure gave the man a pleasant high for laughing at death. It is amusing to watch.

The man gets up onto his feet like a newborn calf. He stumbles into his own living room before pulling a chair over. He stops the fan from moving anymore and ties his faith onto it. I watch, leaning against the wall under the archway.

I take out a piece of paper. A typed paper full of his sins. This should bring smiles upon his victims.