Archive of Our Own ^beta

It wasn't difficult to spot the place with its gaudy blue facade, even with the gaggle of tourists milling outside, hunkered down in the mist of fine rain that had been blowing across the city all day. Carl wove his way between the oblivious crowd and clattered through the door, only to almost trip over a small furry body darting past his feet.

A couple of heads turned his way as he growled colourful expletives after the tiny devil. Carl glared back; who the hell expected to be ambushed when entering a fucking café? Didn't say much for their hygiene rating if they had rats that fucking huge.

His attention was drawn away from potential food safety violations by a wave from Akram, already seated at a table tucked away in a corner, awaiting his arrival. Gingerly dropping into the chair opposite, Carl opened his mouth to ask how Akram had failed to notice the infestation of vermin, only for the question to die on his tongue as he looked at his newly appointed DI properly.

Not only was Akram dressed more casually than Carl had ever seen him, in a very soft looking navy Fair Isle jumper, but there was a ridiculously fluffy grey tabby cat curled up in his lap. The thing spared Carl a quick, disinterested glance before resuming its contented purring as Akram idly scratched behind its ear.

Maybe not a rat, then.

“I ordered you coffee.” Akram slid one of the two cups on the table toward Carl. “I was not sure if you would also like cake.”

“Uh, no, that's… The coffee's fine. Thanks.”

Akram smiled, one of those smiles that was only noticeable at the corners of his eyes, private, pleased, and Carl's breath caught in his chest. He swiftly cut his eyes away from Akram's face before he did something embarrassing like fucking blushing, only for his gaze to land on a small wicker basket compete with calico cat sleeping in a tight ball on a cushion inside.

There was a strong possibility he may have received a head injury recently. Or entered the fucking Twilight Zone.

It took several minutes to realise Akram had flipped open his notebook and was several points into his summary of the findings he and Rose had made during their visit to the family of the young woman whose murder they were currently investigating. Several points Carl was sure were succinct and significant but fuck if he had any idea what they were. He attempted to tune back in, an impossible feat when he kept seeing cats in his peripheral vision.

“Akram.”

Akram stopped midway through the sentence Carl had just interrupted. “Yes, Carl?”

“Why the fuck are there cats everywhere?”

A small part of him expected and dreaded the denial of the existence of any cats, but the answer Akram gave wasn't any more encouraging.

“Because this is a cat café, Carl.” As if that explained anything. Okay, maybe the name of the place should've given him, a fucking detective, a clue, but every other business around here had an inane name that was supposed to be cute and quirky but meant fuck all. Carl's silence adequately expressed his continuing bewilderment and elicited an amused quirk of the bastard's lip. “Do you not think it is cute?”

“I think it's fucking unhygienic.”

“My girls, they love it. So now I come here often.”

His expression had softened into the happy smile reserved solely for his daughters and Carl refused to acknowledge the little spike of jealousy that poked at his heart.

“And you invited me here because?” It might be the perfect place to bring his animal-loving kids, but it was hardly the ideal spot for a work debrief.

“The coffee is very good.”

It was, Carl couldn't deny that. Although, hadn't he read somewhere…

“It's not that cat shit stuff, is it?” Suddenly the coffee didn't seem quite so appealing. To his horror, Akram remained silent, sporting one of those deliberately blank expressions that hid all manner of misdemeanors behind studied innocence. Carl twitched, hands clenching around empty air he wished was the bastard's neck.

A tic beneath the neat mustache betrayed Akram's amusement.

“Fucking prick!”

Akram smiled an apology at their nearest neighbours, but apparently saw no need to afford Carl the same courtesy, happily ignoring the death glare Carl was sending him across the table. Fucker.

Turning back to his notebook, Akram resumed his rundown and Carl made every effort to actually listen this time. He really did. But Akram was still stroking the cat, deft, deadly fingers so gentle as they teased at the soft grey fur, the cat turning its head into the touch, paws flexing against the muscle of his thigh, eyes closed in peaceful pleasure.

Something brushed against Carl's shin, jerking him out of his reverie. A sleek black cat sniffed at his jeans and, deeming him acceptable, began winding its lithe body around his legs. Immune to the fuck off demeanour that deflected most approach attempts, it failed to take an instant dislike to him, a novel experience for Carl. But unlike most humans, it demanded nothing more from him than a little attention; it gave the hand he slowly reached down another appraising sniff, then butted its head against his knuckles and arched its back for a scratch, skinny tail standing tall.

“She likes you.”

Carl hadn't even realised Akram had stopped speaking in favour of watching him interact with the cat. It turned beneath his hand, inviting another long rub along its spine and Carl complied. It was easier to focus on the damn thing than risk a glance at Akram, afraid the fondness he would find there might prove unbearable.

“Fuck knows why.”

“She can tell you have a soft heart beneath that spiky shell.”

“Don't let anyone hear you say that.” The threat behind the words was an empty one.

“Don't worry, they wouldn't believe it if they did. Only she and I know the truth.”

Carl gave a dismissive snort but felt heat creep up the back of his neck.

“I am bringing the girls here again on Saturday, for a treat,” Akram said then, as if Carl had been wondering what he had planned for his weekend off. As if he had ever shown any indication of giving a crap. “Perhaps you would like to join us.”

What?

A small nose nudged at his palm, letting him know he had stopped his ministrations. He curled his fingers under the tiny, soft chin in apology as he finally raised his gaze back to Akram only to find himself pinned now by a very different but just as beseeching pair of eyes. Huge, dark. Impossibly warm. Fuck.

The immediate, instinctive response of fuck off caught in his throat and he forceably swallowed it back down. But he was silent too long, surprise too easily misread as reluctance. Akram's eyes lowered, humble, to the cat in his lap.

“Of course, you probably have—”

“Yeah.” The word was out before his brain had properly committed to agreeing, cutting Akram short before he could complete whatever out he was offering and Carl could grasp at it like the coward he was. “OK.”

Akram's gaze darted back to him, as surprised as Carl himself. Then his eyes crinkled at the corners in that subtle smile that Carl knew indicated true happiness. Stubbornly ignoring the flip his stomach gave at the sight, Carl decided he could panic about what it meant later.

“I am already looking forward to it.”

Bizarrely, so was Carl.