Archive of Our Own ^beta

The bridge trailed in the distance. A blueberry cheesecake in her left hand and her right palm in his left hand. Pop! She looked down at her palm in his left hand as cracked her knuckles, her black skirt billowing under the wind. He enveloped her index with his calloused hand, and ever so gently, pushed that finger to the side until they heard that satisfying pop. He moved on to her middle finger pop! He fiddled with her ring finger until pop! He moved onto her pinky. No success. 

A light chuckle. “That one doesn’t want to pop.” 

“Hmmm…Let’s see if he’s still being stubborn in 10 minutes.”

“You want to bet on that?”

“Only if I win a reprieve from those radiantly pensive eyes of yours,” 

She wrestled her hand out of his grasp and smacked his back, multiple times, earning some questionable stares from the passersbys. 

“Ow!...Easy there…Ow! I don’t want blue…*cough*...berry pudding by the time we reach back. Judging by your undisguisable callous nature and ineptitude for keeping yourself, and now myself, adroit, it seems that is going to be th– Ow! Ow!” 

“Just balance your milk,” And with that she gave him one last not-so-gentle shove. 

“Now that last one really hurt my feelings dear and this, he held his drink in front of her face, “is an earl gray tea with –”

She cocked her head side to side with each ingredient: “Milk, blossomberry honey, and hints of…ginger,” she put emphasis on the last one. She took a sip from the striped baby blue cup. “Rather odd, but I hate to admit it’s delicious every time,” 

He beamed, “Glad to know I am not the only one with their taste intact here,” 

She let out a laugh, wrapping her right arm around his left elbow, leaning into his coat sleeve just enough for the smell of lemons and musk waft her nose. At her touch, she felt his left shoulder flinch before he gave away all resistance. 

“Tired already, detective? And here I was looking forward to a long and exciting night,” He flashed her a wink. 

Cheek leaning into his coast, she looked up at him, and rolled her eyes with a slightly amused sigh. 

 

I know you think about it, how my body makes you feel

And we can fool about, but I don't wanna have to steal

 

She knew she made him feel something. She saw that in the way he gingerly tucked wayward strands of hair right before they were about to irritate her. In the way he hung his palm on the small of her back whenever they entered a doorway. In the way he would stop still for a split second whenever she took off his, no, their,glasses off his head and placed them on her own. And most certainly in the snarky comment made after that without fail. Whenever he touched her, he was so careful. Subtle grazes of reaffirmation. Gentle pats. On so many occasions, he had tried to embrace her. Felt him hover his lips over her forehead a second too long. Knew that his hands patting her shoulder were meant to cup her cheek. He gazed at her like he had found a long lost book, one that was cherished but too precious to read. She could feel his touch underneath his gazes. 

It was frustrating. An invisible line. One that separated them. It was not the law. That boundary had been crossed ages ago. They had been dancing in a room with a swinging knife. Playing Russian roulette with each step. Waiting for one of them to fold. 

“Do you think it’s been ten minutes?”
“Give it up subordinate, you won’t ever get a break from these eyes,” She batted her eyelashes rapidly. 

“Oh, there goes my bad luck again!,” 

“Should have run away when you got the chance,” 

With that, they were face-to-face with a wreath. It was a simple thing: daisies. It was a gift from Kym, their house was too drab, she claimed. Lauren quite liked it. Kieran did too. 

He turned his head and looked down and met her eyes: “Well then, where are my keys, detective?” 

“Left inner pocket. My coat.” 

“So the one you stole from me?”
“I did no such thing! It was sitting on your rack looking so lonely; consider it a favor. Besides, yours have pockets and mine don’t!” 

“And that is a grievance not for me but those boutiques’ your maid gets it from” and with a small, almost scared mutter, “young lady” He smirks. He winces. She stepped on his foot with her heel. 

“You’re lucky I’m mildly inebriated and wore a shorter heel, else you would’ve lost a toe” 

“I run that risk every moment I spend with you – drunk or not. Well, if I may press my luck, could I have the keys so we can escape the snow”

“Can’t. My hands are tied.” Lauren held up the cake box in her left hand and his elbow in her right, her face with matter-of-factly firm lips. He turned away, with a smile on his face and then holding in a laugh, he turned to face her. She knew she was testing him, and that made her adorn a small victory smile. He shuffled through her left pocket. His eyes inches above hers. His jaw close enough for her lips to place a gentle peck on. Theoretically. Her face close enough for his lips to kiss her forehead. Theoretically. His eyes close enough to burn through hers. Really. 

“Dammit Sinclair, how deep are your pockets?” Clouds of white smoke flew around her face
“I’m not that rich and you have the wrong pocket. Upper one” She could smell a mixture of white musk and lemon. 

“That would have been helpful two minutes ago” But then you wouldn’t be so close to me, would you?
“Not my fault my incompetent subordinate can’t even fetch keys from my co–”

“You mean your subordinate’s coat” 

“No, I mean my coat. Sub. or. din. ate.” Her eyes looked up at him with mirth. 

He took his hand out of her pocket and made a telephone sign. 

“Ardhalis PD? I have to report a theft. My precious cream coat, cashmere must I add, was stolen from me. From a red-head full of moxie, nonetheless” he voiced out. “And the worst part is she sports it better than I do” he slowed down. 

She reached to speak in his hand-phone. 

“My subordinate here is in the wrong. He seems to be an excellent thief as he palmed our keys,”

“I did no such thing!” 

“And that is a grievance for yourself,” She smirked. She loved teasing him with her own words. 

 She held onto his hand and unfurled his fist, gently, finger by finger, until his palm was flat open, the keyring resting on his middle finger. She slid it out of his finger and inserted the key into the door. Except her luck it would not fit. 

“That’s for the cave dear,” 

“I kno–” 

“Mailbox,” She moved to the next golden one,

“For a meticulous detective, you are surprisingly poor with housework”

She felt his presence behind her, and slowly he took the keys
“That’s your job love,” 

 

Old habits, you're one of them

Take my heed, this has to end

 

She wanted to stay out here in the snow. Under his warmth, close to his touch. 

He opened the door and beckoned for Lauren to go inside, and as always, placed his hand on her lower back, his touch gone quickly, just a courteous gesture. She stepped inside, wrapped in an aroma of basil and thyme with whiffs of lemon.Warm yellow light flooded the apartment as she turned on the lamp. She hung own cream colored coat, then took his black one from his hands and hung it right next to hers. Where it belonged. 

“How gentlemanly of you dear” Kieran spoke 

“You’re welcome milady” Lauren smiled back. 

“I’ll get started on dinner”

“Absolutely, I’m famished” 

“And you get warmed up, I almost can’t see your freckles” 

 She turned and saw herself in the mirror, her nose red like a button, cheeks adorning a reddish hue and ears flushed pink. Much in contrast to the long drapes of black fabric. The radiator whirred on. Not that it was that cold to begin with. And yet, she still felt undeniably cold. The hair on her skin rose up. 

She set the yellow and baby blue striped box on the counter, peeking through the plastic window to affirm that the box had indeed, a cake, and not pudding. She held back a grin, which solicited a knowing grin from his side. 

“So it is a cake?” 

“No, you’ll have to settle for pudding. Oi, don’t put it in the fridge!” She said, before walking to the couch, feeling the familiar bounce of the couch. She let her back sink into the pillows and let out a sigh. 

“Ok. I won’t”

“I heard that!” 

“So darling what will it be? Coffee as black as Randall’s soul or Jus de Melon-d’Eau, for which Kym must have put missing posters all about the precinct by now,” 

“Pastèque. C’est pastèque darling.” 

“Oh you and your dialects. So jus-de-pastèque it is then?” 

“Wine.”

“We have work to do”

“And they call me a workaholic.” Lauren scoffed. 

“Pardon? Who wanted to come home to debrief?”

That’s just to spend time with you fool. She murmured: “It’s been a long week”

“And when has it not been?” 

When your every glance didn’t leave me craving your touch. 

She whipped around, resting her shoulder on the frame of the couch. She met his wide, toned back that his black silk shirt was doing a shoddy job of hiding. Not that she was complaining. And for once he didn’t have any bandages around his back. That made Lauren smile. He reached for the pink moscato in the fridge with his right hand and carried two wine glasses by the stem in his left palm. She accepted her defeat. He knew exactly what she was feeling. After glasses of merlot tonight, she needed something sweet and light. It was a bit childish of her but she needed to want to enjoy something for once. 

“It’s always busy. But a tasteful glass is never a problem” 

“Workaholic and alcoholic. Noted” 

“With another alcoholic workaholic.” 

“Guilty as charged.” He held up one hand. 

Lauren chuckled and made her way to the kitchen and took a filled glass from his hand. His fingers touched hers and that sent a jolt of heat for a quick second. She took a quick sip and turned around to find a record. She slid through each record one by one until her eyes found one she liked. She put the vinyl in the gramophone and let the music fill the room. She felt a little at ease. When was the last time she felt like this? Before she chased down the purple hyacinth on a rooftop? When she was still a detective in the IU? No, or was it when he was still alive? She started subconsciously swaying with the saxophone’s melody. 

She caught sight of him in front of the stove. His black silken sleeves were rolled up. He was now gently placing two slices of breaded eggplant into the pan.

“How do you have the energy to even cook right now?”

“And you, my love, how can you dance right now?” 

My love. It made her heart clench a little every time he said it. 

“Do you mean when I danced with Hawkes’ associates, trying to cajole information out of them? Or are you talking about when I was ‘drunk’ in my supposed partner’s arms?” She walked up to the counter to refill her glass. “Who, not to forget,” she took a sip of wine, “spent the night chatting away with their wives ready to pounce on him at a wink’s command, seated in the comfort of his barstool. Truly, the most resourceful guy he is? What an unfathomably lucky lady I am!” At some point, Kieran had turned around. He watched her endearingly the whole time, head slightly cocked to the side. The corners of his eyes softened and lips that couldn’t help but carry a gentle smile.

“Then, I’ll make sure to burden you next time with my presence. We both know you’d hate it.” Kieran turned around, to focus on the eggplant. Lauren was now facing his back and she was leaning against the countertop arms crossed. 

 

I thought you would take me away

So now I have to start again

 

They were less than one foot apart. 

It was ironic. 

If a passerby was watching through the window, they would seem normal. 

Like a normal couple. 

Then the woman would go behind her lover? Yes it could only be that. And then she would hug him from behind. On her tiptoes, she would kiss him on the cheek. He would crack a little smile at that, which she would, in return, give another kiss. Next, her lips are on his jaw. Behind his neck. His shoulder. At that point he would turn around, no longer hungry for food. His hands would sit on her hips, hers squeezed between her and his chest. His head would dip, missing her lips, just to spite her, and place a kiss on her jaw instead. 

And just as she turns away, he would lift her by the waist and seat her on the countertop in front of him. Both hands firm on the countertop, caging her thighs, he would finally lean in and kiss her. Senseless. Slow. Languid. Full of energy. She would wrap her thighs around him and pull him closer. Pepper kisses all over his face. In all their passion, they would stop and then laugh at one another. Smiling against each other's mouths. And then maybe they would notice their blinds are open and pause in embarrassment. Though nobody could tell if it was kiss marks or blush. And he would then carry her and – 

“Lauren, don’t you think it's strange how uniform their stories were?” 

Kieran’s voice snapped her into reality. Reminded her of the line she could never cross. She felt a pang of disappointment. They were a cop and an assassin. She was the niece of the Chief of Police. He was the star of the Phantom Scythe. And he was, well, somewhere else. He breathed to abolish the Scythe. These thoughts of hers were not meant to be known. Of course, he could never know how she would feel. So, she was talking to his back. Again. 

“Yes, considering how we weren’t able to gain any information from them. Hawke is tight-lipped, don’t you think it odd, nobody knows anything?” 

“Perhaps, maybe they are innocent. Or maybe they have nothing to do with his company,”

If he didn’t pull his sleeves up, they would have dinner seasoned with fried silk. This was one of his favorite shirts too. Lauren set down her glass on the countertop and walked until she was against his side; he felt warm from the heat radiating from the stove. Or maybe it was just her natural reaction to him. 

“Or maybe they don’t even know they are involved,” Kieran said. She rolled up his left sleeve gently up his forearm. She could have sworn she heard him suck in a breath. 

“What you mean to say is that the businesses they are investing in could be a cover for Scythe operations,” She moved to his right and rolled his right sleeve gently up his forearm. There she could now see those strong arms of his again. No bruises thankfully. 

“Thanks dear,” he muttered “And maybe the investors don’t even know it,” 

With reluctance, she pulled away from the heat and assumed her space leaning against the cold countertop. Less than one foot away. 

“But then what would Hawkes use as a cover? He can only operate on trust so long. Noblemen are noblemen and they want to see results.”

Lauren walked over the cupboards to start laying the plates. One white. One black.

“No clue. We’ll have to wait for Lune to figure that out. Oh shit. That’s us!” Kieran said with mock exasperation. 

“It’s clever, I’ll give them that. Clean. The less people know, the less people accidentally slip up. Hawkes is damn good at covering his tracks” 

“He’s been in the business longer than Chief Sinclair, he has experience,” 

“Chief Sinclair? Sounds odd coming from you,” 

“As in the very person who’s the biggest pain for APD? Or as in his niece’s supposed boyfriend?” 

Lauren shrugged her shoulders as she poured herself another drink “Maybe both”. She fluttered a little at the mention of boyfriend. She hated how he made her feel like a schoolgirl. 

“All said, it is certainly not as odd as this detective I know who likes room temperature, I surmise even warm cheesecake,”

“Oi, chilling it would take away all flavor and creamy goodness,” exclaimed Lauren as swirled her drink and took a sip.

Oh no, here it comes. Every time he had this most ridiculous comment, his face would assume this shit-eating grin, and –

“Really? Well, I thought you would have preferred it a little firm. I would even say ha–” 

Lauren choked on her drink. Kieran turned around, taking out the golden brown cutlets from the pan and placed them on a cotton cloth. 

“Oi, I know you’ve have gotten blood on the carpet before, but try not to get any wine,” Lauren smacked the back of his head with the nearest object she could find, her shawl this time. 

“It’s moscato. It barely stains!” 

“You know, supposedly as the most wanted assassin in Ardhalis, I get quite a few beatings,” 

“And you deserve every one of them!” Lauren exclaimed, realizing her mistake the moment all the words left her mouth. He froze. Even if his back was facing towards her, she could see his smile drop. Her and her damned mouth. She had too much to drink. No, she should know better. 

After a minute of silence, Lauren let out a rushed “Kieran, I didn’t mean to say that, truly—” 

Growl. 

And just when the night could not get any worse.

He let out a laugh. An open one. From the bottom of his stomach. It made her all fuzzy. 

“I know mon amour. Now, someone’s hungry.” He plated the eggplant cutlets on two plates. 

“Good thing I made some extra food”

“Which we will end up digesting in a couple of hours,” 

“With the rate that” he pointed to the moscato with his fork “is emptying, I think not.” 

“Come on, let’s dig in”

A soft saxophone beat surrounded the air around her. They were sitting at the corner of the countertop. Lauren finished her eggplant cutlet, devouring it in one go. Kieran looked into the distance.

I understand you're not mine

Babe, why, why, why, why, why?

Why are you so hurt? What happened to you? Why can’t you open your heart?

Yet Lauren was a detective, so she pieced whatever small clues he gave her to piece together what might have happened. Yet, what she could fathom, it panged her heart to think about. She could not bear it. She had had enough. She set down her fork on the end of the plate with a loud clatter, Kieran’s eyes looked up to meet hers, unmoving.

“Kieran, please” Her voice pleaded, she needed him to hear. He knew exactly what it was about. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Lie.” 

“I know.”

“You don’t have to talk, or tell me anything. Just please, give yourself a break.” 

“This is my break. And that’s rich coming from you. How much did you sleep last night? Oh right, you didn’t” His voice was laced with irritation. 

“This isn't about me.”
“I think it very much is. Just like everything is.” 

“There we go, deflecting as always.”
“I mean, why do we even have to talk about me? I’m fucking fine. Never been better.”

“Because you are not! You are dying on the inside, letting this gnaw you.” 

“And you aren’t! You spend every waking moment on this case! You are obsessed!”

By now they had both raised their voices beyond each other’s comfort.

“But I have Kym. Will. Tristan. Dakan. You for fuck’s sake. What about you? You may be all charming the precinct, but you drop out of conversation, call everyone by their last name to put distance, sit by yourself” 

He looked at her, shook his head, put on a defiant smile.

“Wow! A secret agent being covert. Shocker and you are slowly erasing everyone from your life Sinclair!”

Sinclair. Sinclair. Now, Lauren was going to lose it. 

She jabbed him with her finger: “And you cut everyone from your life before you get the chance. You are rotting on the inside. I can not bear to see you like this. I hate that I can’t do anything for you!” 

“My problems are not a new project for your noblesse oblige. You are doing this for your noblewoman's satisfaction. Thank you for your charity on this poor gentleman.” He spat the last words out.

Even when you're with me

You lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lauren turned around, her cheeks were flushed. What frustrated her the most was that he knew she cared about him. He knew that she could hear his lies. 

“You, vex, me Kieran. You are one of the strongest men in Ardhalis and yet you are a complete coward around me. I understand, you don’t have to tell me everything that happened to you. But I think we are at a point where you could tell me if you are suffering right now!” 

“Lauren, liste–”

“NO! You listen to me, partner. You do not have to suffer alone. And all this fucking guilt you drown yourself in makes it worse. Kieran, you need to see that you deserve more! You are not the monster you make yourself out to be!”

“Lauren. Stop” His voice choked. 

“Why? Because you know it's true? Because you know that you des–”
“Stop” 

“Why? Won’t you look at me? Look at yourself. Try to lo–” 

“Lauren. Please. Go.” 

Her heart melted. All the anger she had, it dissolved away when she saw him. He was about to break. She had to leave. She tore herself away from him. She quickly slipped on her heels. Music that was once rich, felt suffocating. She grabbed a coat, one she had left a long time ago, and slipped it on. 

It hurt, when he did not want to tell her more. They had seen everything together. That’s what hurt the most. The fact that he had seen so much worse. That he had been in even more pain than her. Pain that she would not feel. Pain that she could only try to understand. His lies were a testament to that fact: he was well aware that she could detect his lies. But he lied anyway, as if to let her know she shouldn’t look deeper. Leave him be. Yet deep down, she also knew that was the best thing to do. Leave him alone. He has just started to heal and gain normalcy and she could not risk ruining that. 

She scoffed, when did she decide when people healed when she was a mess herself? Who the hell was she to look into people’s lives? What she did know was that there was a tall, impenetrable wall between her and him. She would have to help him and support him. From the other side of the wall. 

But to hell with it, she was Lauren fucking Sinclair. When did she give a damn about what should and should not be done? She certainly could not, when the man she loved. She had come to love so much right in front of her. Falling apart piece by piece. 

And I know it will never change

But I still can't say goodbye

She ran through the doorway, back into the warm yellow light of the living room. He was standing on the living room carpet, heart frozen in time. He took one step back. Yet she moved to him faster than he could step back and crashed into him with a strong force. Her arms slung around his neck. Before he could even push her back, she cradled him. Strongly. 

“Please don’t push me away. Kieran. Please. Just hold me. I need this.” She knew, he could not refuse something if it was for someone else’s benefit. 

She continued, “You may be right. You may be just ‘fine’ right now. But your stress, guilt, and past is ever present. I see it. You don’t do anything without purpose. Your eyes turn glassy in the middle of our work. You lock yourself for hours in your room, drawing away. You exist to please. What we are doing, I know it’s a way for you to redeem yourself.” 

Kieran was still frozen in place.
“Mon amour. My soul. My darling. Please forgive yourself. Nothing was your fault.”

He collapsed. 

He let out a sigh.
She felt a weight in the crook of her neck.

“Not the deaths.”

“No.”

“Not the people I murdered.”

“No.” 

“Not your neck.” 

“No.”

She patted his back. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. She could feel his warm tears. 

She enveloped him with all her warmth. Hugged him like he was fading away in her hands. 

He let out a sigh. 

He hugged her back. So strongly. Lauren collapsed into him. Completely. There was nothing else in the world except the both of them. 

She placed a gentle kiss at the nape of his neck. 

He froze. 

They stay frozen like that in time for a while. He leaned into her, she put his arms around his back. Patting his back gently. They swayed to the music. Side by side. Little by little. 

“Kieran?”

“Mmhmm”

“Isn’t your neck tired of bending over?”
“Yeah. But let’s keep dancing.”

He lifted his face, leaving her shoulder cold. She cupped his face with both of her cheeks. She got on her tippy toes, and kissed his dried tears. She gently peppered kisses. His lovely closed eyes. His cheeks. Temples. Ears. Jaw. The column of his throat. Everywhere but his lips.

“Lauren. When did we become this way?”

“I don’t know. When did we?”

“Lauren.”

“Mhmmm.”

 “You can kiss me, you know. If you want.”

“I want to. I will. Let’s just take it slow.” 

“Can I kiss you?”
“I don’t know, can you,” she said with a smirk. 

No sooner did Lauren say the words, did she feel his lips on hers. At first, it was slow, languid, and warm. She felt a hotness that raised the hairs on her back. Something she, they, had been waiting for a long time coming. She melted into him. He massaged the divots on her hips, she massaged the back of his neck with the pads of her thumbs. With that, all restraint was forgotten.

Next thing, her back was pressed against the wall, his mouth gently sucking the skin between her jaw and throat. He was a mess. Black curls falling out his bun. Eyes that looked up to her through his lashes, his pupils a little green under the warm light of the room. His lips were flushed, now tinted in maroon, smudged by her lipstick. His throat and face was adorned by her lips. She could devour him.

“Struck by my beauty detective.”
“Yes, my dear archivist”

“Subordinate”

“Sub. Or. Din. Ate.” She took her time, lapping her tongue around each syllable. 

It must have been sultry, for Kieran kissed her senseless. He clenched her thighs with his sturdy hands which made Lauren’s toes curl. She retaliated by biting his right ear. If anything he held her tighter and closer to him. Now kissing a patch of skin above her bosom. She would not give up without a fight, and pulled back his hair, so she could see his face. Completely ruined. Her subordinate. She pressed her forehead to his and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“You know, my love. I think the cheesecake might be getting too warm.”

“Yes. There’s nothing else I’m absolutely thinking about devouring.”
“Please.”

“Five minutes. I’m going to lose patience.”
“Not for me you won’t.” She gave him a coy smile.

He set her down on the countertop and sliced up the cheesecake. 

They shared two slices. Then three. Until the whole cake was gone.

And then so were they, into the depths of the night, in the comfort of each other.