Title : Spanish Practise Required

Author : peaceful_sands

Fandom : The Losers

Characters : Team minus Clay

Rating : PG-13

Prompt : The Losers, any, "I thought you said your uncle was a lawyer!"

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note : Spanish translations are courtesy of Google Translate, which seemed like the better option after babelfish translated uncle as uncle!

Spanish Practise Required

The bar-room brawl was in full swing and Jensen was still adamant it wasn't his fault and he hadn't started it, although for the most part his complaints were now drowned in the general melee of noise. "Jensen! Duck!" Roque shouted as he swung a chair round to take out the thug who had been laying into the hacker moments before.

"Thanks, man," Jensen said as he came back up to standing, bearing one of the now broken chair legs and promptly turning to crack it over the head of the man in the process of throwing punches at Pooch.

The sound of sirens outside elicited a collective groan from most of the bar's patrons and it wasn't long before almost everyone, The Losers included, found themselves in cuffs and being led out to the police vans.

Cougar was muttering imprecations in Spanish under his breath and casting glares at anyone who got even remotely close to him. He was forced into the back of a van alongside Jensen, which he might have considered a good thing on the average day, but Jensen was still chattering away and it was pretty much getting on his nerves when one took everything else into consideration. Cougar gave him a glare under which his team mate finally fell silent.

The doors were closed and the air inside the van was close, too many bodies in too tight a space. Cougar tilted his head towards his neighbor on the other side to Jensen. Moments later, his nose wrinkled in disgust and he muttered something barely audible over the sound of the engine and the general rattle and movement of bodies sliding back and forth. He wasn't going to bother repeating it, it wasn't intended for anybody else's ears anyway, but suddenly Jensen was talking again and sounding enthusiastic, "Well, that's good news. I'm sure we'll be out in no time and no doubt a deal will be cut, so it won't be that bad."

Cougar could have sworn that he had no idea how Jensen's brain worked, and at times like this he had been known to wonder whether there wasn't some excessive degree of insanity that Jensen was passing into or maybe he'd actually plunged headfirst into an abyss, a mire of madness all his own.

Cougar sighed, rolled his eyes and leaned a little more towards his team mate, knowing that even sweaty from the exertion of the bar fight, Jensen would smell a whole heap better than the bastard now leering at him from the other side and making decidedly unwelcome suggestions. If it weren't for the lack of space and the handcuffs, Cougar would soon put a stop to it. In fact, Cougar figured the line was right on the verge of being crossed and if the bastard dared, Cougar's boots had a good heel on them, just right for grinding into delicate parts of other people's anatomy should the need arise and working the odds, he was pretty sure, the handcuffs weren't actually going to stop him causing the oaf bodily harm and if he did end up falling into Jensen as a result of any sudden movement, it wouldn't be the end of the world. They were team mates; team mates had to put up with that kind of thing from each other.

Down at the local station, the police had soon worked out that they need to separate certain individuals. Cougar's unsavory neighbor was one who, after he almost got a broken nose following a lewd remark about what he'd do to Cougar while wearing his hat and pulling his hair, got dragged away to a different holding cell.

The Losers had owned up to who they were, after all they were being finger printed anyway – it wasn't like their details weren't on file somewhere. Jensen was the first one taken away for processing, leaving the others waiting for him in the cell.

It was only a matter of minutes before another pair of officers came for Cougar to try and speed the process up, particularly as they knew who they'd got on their hands. When Jensen got back, they were left alone for a while. Pooch and Roque were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who got to be the one who put the call through to Clay.

Jensen was grinning broadly and telling them not to worry – after all, Cougar had everything in hand. There were puzzled looks exchanged, but seriously, it was Jensen and who knew Cougar better than Jensen and past evidence, there was loads of trouble that they escaped only thanks to Cougar's intervention. What reason was there to believe that this would be any different?

It was hours later, they'd all been questioned and they were still locked up with no sign of release. Roque was getting twitchy, Pooch was sitting in a corner with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the growing sense of impending trouble. Cougar looked almost as if he was meditating on the bench beside Jensen.

Jensen, by contrast with his team mates, was veering between sudden bursts of energy when he paced up and down the cell, chattering non-stop about the party they could throw when they got out and collapsing on the bench and seeming to drop asleep against Cougar's shoulder.

It was five in the morning when Roque finally cracked and was up on his feet and pacing. Five circuits of the room and he turned to Cougar who was now watching him carefully. Their eyes met and held and Roque snapped, "How long is he going to expect us to just sit here? Did he give any indication?"

Cougar frowned, shifted his gaze to rest on Pooch as if he was going to clarify the questions.

"Your uncle, bro. How long will your uncle be? Did he say?"

"Uncle?"

It only took the one word for the three of them to realize that something was terribly wrong. Jensen, with his usual impeccable timing, shifted his weight slightly and let out a small snore as all three sets of eyes shot to him.

"Jensen!" Pooch was the first to actually try and attract their sleeping team mate's attention. "Jensen!" He got up from his position and moved across to poke Jensen in the chest. Jensen's eyes snapped open and he sat up, looking round and taking in the expressions on the rest of the team's faces. He bit his lip and frowned.

"Jensen, what did you do?" Pooch demanded, reaching out to grab hold of Roque before he moved any closer.

"Er . . . when?" Jensen looked confused.

"You told us that Cougar was getting us out of here."

Jensen nodded sincerely in reply, but before he could explain anything further, Cougar said, "What uncle? Why would my uncle get us out?"

"You said he would," Jensen said. "Earlier, you did, you said it in the van!"

"Jensen, you realize we have been sitting here for the last . . ." Roque checked his watch before continuing, "Eight hours, because you told us Cougar's uncle was getting us out of here. Meanwhile Cougar here is under the impression that we had arranged a way out of here with Clay."

"But – Cougs! Cougs, you said! You said your uncle –"

Cougar held a hand up to silence him. "Did you bang your head?"

"Bang my head?" Jensen asked confused. Pooch and Roque suddenly looked more concerned as well, Roque moving forward to begin checking him over as Jensen's hands flapped and tried to push him away. "Stop! Stop it! I haven't banged my head! There's nothing the matter with me. He said it! He did, he said it in the van. He said his uncle was a lawyer!"

"Mi tío no es un abogado!" (My uncle isn't a lawyer!) Cougar looked horrified.

Jensen looked heartbroken as he explained, "You said it in the van. You moved away from the guy sitting next to you, leaned into my space and you were really quiet but you told me your uncle was a lawyer."

Cougar closed his eyes and tried to remember what he'd said while they were in the police van. All of a sudden he recalled exactly what Jensen was talking about and groaned. "Mierda!"

"What did you say?" Roque asked, his eyes not flicking from the piercing glare that he had aimed at Jensen.

Cougar rubbed his palm down his face wearily as he began to explain, "No he dicho mi tío era un abogado." He paused and repeated it again in English, "I – I didn't say my uncle was a lawyer. I wasn't even talking to Jensen."

Roque sighed, "So what did you say?"

Cougar met his eyes sadly as he spoke, "I don't remember the exact words but it was something like 'que huele a carne adobada de mi tío'. I was talking about the man I was beside."

"Shit!" Jensen whispered. "Something about meat . . ." His head dropped into his hands. "Shit!" he mumbled again, following it quickly with a "Fuck!"

Pooch broke the tense atmosphere with a sudden sharp laugh, "So let me get this straight, our communications specialist thought you said you'd fix it because your uncle's a lawyer when what you actually said was that the guy sitting next to you smelled like your uncle's marinated meat?"

Cougar nodded and Jensen let out another groan, between his murmured apologies.

"So are we saying that we're stuck in here because none of us has called anyone to come get us out?" Roque asked, unsurprised when he was met with agreement from all three team mates. He crossed to the cell door and banged on it to get the attention of the policeman outside. As he waited for the man to appear, he turned back to Jensen and added, "You know, if we hadn't been stuck in here for more than eight hours, that would almost have been funny. But while I think about it, as the two of you are to blame for this, I am telling you now . . ." He pointed abruptly at Cougar and said, "You are going to teach him to speak Spanish like a native. He is not going to make a mistake like it again ever. If he ever makes even a slight little error of judgement in translating Spanish ever at any time in the future, I am going to hold you responsible for whatever mess he gets into, and trust me, you will be right there alongside him. Is that clear?"

Jensen and Cougar both nodded in silence.

"We'd like to make a phone call now to our CO," Roque said to the policeman now standing outside the cell.

"Won't be any need for that," the man said. "Apparently when none of you turned up when he expected you, he knew where to start looking. I wouldn't want to be you when he gets hold of you. He did ask whose fault it was that you all got brought in this time."

"No comment," Roque replied, ushering the rest of the team out of the cell ahead of him. "No fucking comment at all."