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Columbo loved his job.. it gave him a privilege he absolutely adored. The ability to mock murderers to their faces, to toy with them, to scare them into admitting the very details that would help incriminate them.
Most often, they were charmed by him. A little intimidated, as time went on. Maybe a little annoyed, at most.
He'd been chasing after a particularly stubborn man, trying everything to get him to crack. But..
"Columbo!" The man practically snarled, threateningly towering over him, clenching his fists at his sides. "What are you implying, huh?!"
He was as unphased as always, just calmly smiling at him. "I'm not accusin you of anything, Mister Hanlon.. but, y'know, I gotta tie up all these loose ends. If I work too much overtime, my wife gets upset with me, y'know?"
"Give me your bosses phone number so you'll stop bothering me all the time." Paul took another step towards him, baring his teeth. Columbo took a small step back, calmly smiling at him.
"Look, sir, I'll only be another minute or so. I promise." He touched Paul's shoulder, gently and friendly like. "I get it. You're a busy man.. here, have a puff." He offered out his cigar, patiently looking up at him.
"Why don't you just say it! You think I'm guilty!" Paul growled, angrily swiping Columbo's hand off his shoulder. "You.. you.." he took another step toward him, then another as Columbo backed up another step.
"Now, look, Mister Hanlon.. c'mon. Do I look dangerous to you?" Columbo backed up with him, quietly watching his hands every movement. Paul smugly smirked at him; Columbo was scared.
"You know, I think that's the worst part." Paul almost had him against the wall, continuing to slowly back him up into it. "I bet you don't even carry a gun.. you don't need to. Everybody loves you. Nobody wants to lie to a charming little guy like you, huh? Everyone thinks you're real cute!"
Columbo tried to side step away from him, but Paul slammed his hand into the wall, right next to the man's head. He glowered down at him, hanging close to his face. "What's the matter, Columbo? Are you scared?" He hissed, eagerly watching Columbo's expression.
"Now, why would I be scared?" Columbo answered, his expression barely shifting. He was clearly trying to goad him into yelling at him. Even under the threat of violence, he was still trying to get him to say something incriminating.
"You're alone with someone you believe is a murderer." Paul growled, fully enjoying the height he had on Columbo. "In fact, I bet you do this all the time."
"What's to be scared of?" He asked with a smirk on his face. He didn't move, just casually brought his cigar back to his lips and inhaled a lungful of smoke. "Why would anyone wanna hurt me? It's not gonna benefit them."
"I dunno. Maybe just to satisfy an itch, hm? But who would do that.." Paul growled, considering it, really. Columbo was right there. Vulnerable. He could reach out and strangle him, right then, right there. He stared at him. "Who.. would want to hurt a.. a fine man like yourself.." he said through gritted teeth, attempting to take a soothing breath.
"Wow, a fine man? Really? Gee, I wasn't sure you liked me all that much.." Columbo took a puff of his cigar, completely aware of the effect he was having. "And, by the way, thanks for takin the time to chat with me."
"Why are you so damn persistent?" Paul growled, his hands not budging from their position. "Does this usually work on people?"
Columbo shrugged. "I dunno what you're talking about, Mister Hanlon. Does what work?"
Paul really wanted to hit him. Again, he restrained himself. "Why do you insist on interrupting people, all the time, disrupting their lives!"
Columbo chuckled at him, watching the decision flicker through his eyes. "I dunno, Mister Hanlon.. I think some folks do that to themselves. They get real nervous. They know I've got em.. and they can't do a thing about it."
Paul saw red. He grabbed the little man by the collar, scrunching his raincoat in his grip. He had to rise to the tips of his battered old boots to rise to his hands. "Columbo!" he roared, violently shaking him. "You infuriating little.. ugh! What is wrong with you! I'm trying to watch the god-damn game!! And you.. you.."
The little bastard just looked down, then back up at his face. He smiled at him. "You know, Mister Hanlon.. you do have a right to remain silent. If you want me to leave, well.."
Paul angrily lifted him off the ground, pressing him into the wall. "Is that right? If I want you to leave?" He growled, revelling in the little shiver that went through Columbo. His eyes were a little wider, too, wearily staring at him. "Except you'll come back, won't you?! Huh?! You'll always be back for 'just one more thing'."
Columbo's breathing got a little more shallow, staring at him. He was flustered, and trying not to show it. "Mister Hanlon, now.. let's not get all.."
"I could throw you out of the stadium! I could throw you out of my house! I did! And where are you?! My goddamn office!" Paul yelled at him, scrunching his stupid collar even tighter. He gasped a little, trying his best to breathe. The air between them was both humid, and filled with smoke. "At least I found out how to shut you up!"
"But, uh, Mister Hanlon.." his voice was shaky, but he smiled like he was unphased. He swung his legs a little and confidently placed his cigar back in his mouth. "You're still talking, aren'tcha?"
Paul blankly stared at him for a moment. He smiled at Columbo, actually chuckling. Columbo squirmed in his arms, his legs swinging a little. He chuckled, a puff of smoke leaving his mouth. "I guess I found out how to-"
"Shut up!" Paul angrily rammed forward with his knee as hard as he could, openly letting out his angry growl. "You annoying little bastard! If you keep talking, I'm gonna punch your lights out! You.. you.."
"Uh.. Mister Hanlon.." Columbo chuckled, glancing downwards. "I think you should, uh.. look down."
"Columbo, don't you tell me what to do!" Paul lifted him once again, bringing him closer to his face.
Columbo smirked and opened his mouth a little, breathing a cloud of smoke in his face without touching the cigar. Paul got even closer to him and breathed in the smoke himself, inches away from Columbo's lips. He leaned back and blew it out, smugly looking at Columbo. He swore he felt a shiver go through the man's body.
"Mister Hanlon. May I call you Paul?" Columbo politely asked, gently smiling at him.
"You can call me whatever you want! I don't care!" He sarcastically answered, annoyed Columbo had the gall to keep talking.
"Some people would consider that flirting." Columbo smirked at the unyielding anger in his expression.
"What, is that why you're sticking around?" He growled, adjusting his grip on Columbo's collar. He had pulled his shirt so far up, that Columbo's face was hanging forwards, angled down at him.
"Paul, I really think you oughta look down." Columbo ignored him, smiling as though Paul had said nothing.
"Fine!!" He pushed Columbo further into the wall so he could look, then felt.. Columbo's weight sinking onto his knee. It hurt; it stung. He looked down and found..
"Fucking hell. Always something with you, isn't it?" he had slammed his knee through the wall, driving splinters into his knee and tearing up his trousers. He ripped it out of the wall, stretching his leg for a moment. He could feel it beginning to sting. His grip on Columbo loosened, and Paul allowed him to drop to the floor.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Columbo?!" Paul growled, glowering down at him. He touched his knee and winced, his fingers getting stained red with his own blood. The pressure stung. He held up his hand, showing Columbo the beads of blood. "Look what you made me do!"
"Oh, jeez.. can I do anything to help?" Columbo purred at him, something in his voice changing when he saw the blood. His face looked redder than usual.
Paul's mind went blank when Columbo dropped to his knees. "Wow. Would ya look at that.." Columbo murmured, eye level with his knee.. and something else. Paul felt something strange tightening in him, his blood rushing through all the wrong places. Then, Columbo touched him, gently gripping his thigh. "You're bleeding, Paul. You oughta let me help you."
It took a moment for words to even come to his mind, the sudden touch making everything go blank. "Columbo!" he decisively yelled after a moment, angrily looking down. He shifted away, watching the bastard look up at him with a mock-confused expression. He knew what he was doing. "Get up!"
"Sorry, sorry.. just thought I'd take a look for ya." Columbo got to his feet, smiling like nothing was wrong. "You really oughta get that taken care of."
Paul swiped his hand over his knee again, looking down at himself. His palm, when he turned it over, was streaked with fresh blood, and he hissed at the dull sting in his knee. "What the hell are you trying to pull here, anyway?" Paul growled, rubbing his hands together to dry the blood. He didn't want to stain any of his clothing.
"Really. Policemen learn first aid. You got a bathroom in here? Somewhere private?" He asked, looking around the room. "You're gonna get infected if you don't take care of that pretty soon. Go on, take another look at it."
Paul refused to look down. At either himself, or Columbo. "I will be fine, Columbo. Just fine."
"Are you sure? Cause I really don't mind sorta.. helpin you out, there, you-"
"Columbo, I said no!" Paul interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, trying not to hear the offer in Columbo's words. "I can deal with it myself. Just get out of here!" Paul groaned, firmly pointing towards the door.
Columbo looked sure of himself, like he knew he almost had him. "Are you sure?" He cooed, glancing down again. "I could.."
"Out, Columbo! Out!" He yelled, roughly pushing him back towards the door.
"I'm going, I'm goin.." Columbo stumbled, catching himself and managing to remain upright. "I'll be back when you've got this all.. sorted.."
"I'm sure you will. In fact, I know you will. I'm counting on it!" He angrily limped forward, throwing the door to his office all the way open and holding it there. "Get out!"
Columbo left in a flash, not without showing off one last smirk of victory. Paul slammed his door shut so violently, it rattled the hinges.
Paul leaned against the door instead of locking it, preparing for Columbo to try to barge in again. He waited - he didn't hear anything. After a few moments, he breathed a huge sigh of relief - fuck. He'd taken a chunk out of his wall, he'd fucked up his knee, and.. he was pretty sure he was half hard. The room still stank of Columbo's cigar smoke. Fuck.
He hobbled over to his office phone, gritting his teeth the whole way. He dialed the right number, slowly, then held the phone to his ear, impatiently waiting for somebody to pick up.
"First aid department." They answered, the noise of the game blaring in the background of the call.
"This is Mister Hanlon. Would you get somebody up to my office, please?" He asked, sighing in frustration. He'd done this to himself, really.
"Uhh.. Mister Hanlon, do you have an injured player with you, or..?"
"Don't question me, just do it!" He growled, practically yelling into the phone. "Is that clear?!"
"Yes, sir. Crystal." The phone clicked.
Paul wanted to punch a hole through the wall. Instead, he was forced to sit down and wait for a first aid kit and a field paramedic. Columbo had hardly laid a hand on him. And, infuriatingly.. Paul almost wished he had.