Standard Disclaimer: Houston Knights belongs to Jay Bernstein and Michael Butler and Columbia Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fan fiction, written out of love for the shows. I am making no money off this. I have no money so please don't sue me. Any original characters who may appear in these stories are the property of the author.

Sulking
By Starwinder

LaFiammia pushed through the double doors into the Major Crime Unit with Lundy hard on his heels. His head was down, face sullen and uncommunicative.

Lundy was holding forth loudly, "You know, LaFiamma, it would be a whole lot easier on both of us if you would just tell me what you're sulking about. It's real simple. You tell me what I said or did. I apologize. You accept. We get on with taking care of business. How about it?"

"You mean it'd be easier for you." LaFiammia flung back over his shoulder. He reached their desk and dropped into his chair grabbing a folder out of the in basket on his side.

Lundy circled to his side of the wide double desk and sat down, leaning forward he propped his elbows on the desk and said. "All right. Give me a hint, a clue, something I can use to figure out what you're sulking about."

"No." LaFiammia ignored the curious looks that they were beginning to get from the rest of the unit and started flipping through the folder.

Beaumont stepped out of her office and raised a questioning brow at Lundy. He gave a tiny shake of this head to indicate that he'd explain later and continued to probe at LaFiammia trying to get a hint of what he was mad about. "Then at least tell me what kind of sulk is this."

LaFiammia looked up.

[Gotcha!] Lundy thought.

"What'd you mean what kind of sulk?" LaFiammia demanded.

"Well, you got several kind. There's the time limited sulk. Where you're mad at me but not too mad at me so you decide to sulk for a day or two and if I figure out what you're mad about it's all right, and if I don't figure it out it's all right, 'cause you're going to quit sulking in a couple of days any way. Then there's the indefinite sulk. You're really mad at me and you're going to sulk till I figure out what you're sulking about or hell freezes over whichever comes first. Now it does seem to me that that is the kind of sulk this is but usually with a till hell freezes over sulk you at least give me clues so I can figure out what I did that was so terrible that you don't plan on ever forgiving me."

"You don't know what I'm mad about? You really don't know what I'm mad about?!" LaFiammia jumped up and started pacing back and forth in front of their desk. Lundy watched him, realizing in that moment just how seriously upset his partner was and suddenly afraid that he had gone too far with his teasing tone.

"No. I don't know and I wish you'd just tell me." Lundy said seriously.

"I can't tell you." LaFiammia shouted back.

"Why not? Don't you know what you're mad about?" Lundy was trying very hard to keep a straight face at the thought that LaFiammia might not know him self what he was mad about.

"Of course I know. It's just---" He threw his hands up and turned to walk away from the argument.

"Just what, LaFiammia?" Lundy jumped up and started after him.

LaFiammia turned back to face him. "It just sounds so damn petty when I say it out loud! All right? And it is petty! It's nothing really! But it hurt damn it! And I'm mad and I'm gonna stay mad till I get over being mad! So, just let me the hell alone till I get over being mad! All right!" With that he whirled around and stalked out of the Major Crime Unit.

Lundy was standing with his mouth hanging open at this when he heard a chuckle from behind him. He turned to see the police psychologist, Tom Frasier, standing there. "One of these days I'm gonna write me a book on LaFiammia and win every award the American Association of Psychologists gives. Boy beats all I ever saw."

Lundy ran a hand though his hair and grinned. "You got that right, Doc. LaFiammia is something."[Gonna stay mad till he gets over being mad. I wonder how long that's gonna take?]