WITNESS STATEMENTS & JEALOUSY â Jealous Adam Dalgliesh!
Summary: Jealous Adam Dalgliesh tries very hard to call it immaturity, but somehow still ends up watching you a little too closely and deciding Collins is suddenly âtransfer material.â
The relationship had existed for eight months and six days. Not that Adam was counting. The fact that he knew the exact number would remain between himself and God.
No one at the Yard knew. No one in the squad suspected. The arrangement had begun with caution and continued with even greater caution, both of you understanding exactly how quickly gossip could spread through police stations. There were no stolen kisses in hallways, no lingering touches in public, no visible signs that the Commander and one of his detectives belonged to one another.
At work, you were simply colleagues. After work, you became everything else. Adam had thought the separation manageable.
Until recently.
Adam noticed it long before anyone else did.
The young detective had a habit of hovering near your desk. Not enough to attract comment, but enough that Adam's eyes found the interaction every time.
Adam had been watching it unfold long before he ever admitted it to himself, the easy way you spoke with the younger detective, the way laughter came more readily when you werenât aware he was looking, the way Collins lingered near your desk under the harmless guise of work while Adam stood at a distance pretending it did not matter. Normal things, nothing was inappropriate. Nothing he could object to. Which made it worse.
He was standing by the office window when he heard your laugh float across the room.The kind you rarely gave, expect with him. When he turned, he found the detective leaning against your desk, speaking animatedly while you smiled up at him.
Something sharp settled beneath Adam's ribs. Possessiveness. An emotion he despised. He looked away immediately.
By lunch he had convinced himself it was nothing. By evening he had memorized every occasion the detective had touched your arm.
He stood beside the incident board while discussing witness timelines with the team. Around him, officers moved between desks carrying statements and photographs. The usual noise of a major investigation filled the room.
You were across the office, laughing. God you were laughing. Not at him. At Collins.
Adam continued speaking without interruption. "The victim was last seen leaving the restaurant at approximately twenty-two hundredâ" Collins said something.
You laughed again. A proper laugh this time, the one that made your shoulders shake and your nose crinkle. Adam lost his place in the timeline. Though it was only for a second, none could have noticed it. Well, except him of course.
His gaze shifted briefly across the room.
Collins was leaning against your desk, grinning like an idiot. You were smiling up at him, you werenât leaning towards Collins, but Collins was. The sensation that settled in Adam's chest was deeply unpleasant.
He ignored it, at least attempted to without his nerves brining him down.
"Sir?" Adam looked back at the detective waiting for an answer. "Sorry?" "The CCTV footage." He shook his head back in remembrance, "Yes." The briefing continued.
The briefing moved simply, each point was discussed throughly, with a precise direction and smooth flow that would have Adamâs attention fully. Yet every few moments his attention betrayed him.There you were, dressed in your button up suit, wearing those heels he loved. Talking to bloody Collins. He wanted to physically gag but his age reminded him of his need for maturity, in truth it was just to keep up appearances.
He averted his gaze, looking back at the witness statements.
Then five minutes later, he looked back. You were still talking to Collins. Ten minutes after that, Collins returned with two coffees. One for himself. One for you.
Adam found himself wondering whether you even liked the blend Collins usually bought. You preferred darker roasts. You always complained lighter coffees tasted watered down. The thought appeared so naturally that Adam nearly swore aloud. Because that wasn't the point.
The point was that he shouldn't care.
The point was that you were free to speak to whoever you pleased.
The point was that Collins had done absolutely nothing wrong.
The point wasâ"Commander?" Adam blinked. The room had gone quiet. Every detective was looking at him. Apparently he had stopped speaking mid-sentence.â Continue with the canvass," he said curtly.
The briefing ended moments later.
Everyone dispersed, shuffling into their steps. Everyone except you. You approached his desk carrying a folder. He looked up as he did, resisting the urge to pull you closer to him as you stood.
"Hi. Thought you'd want the updated witness statements." You smiled at him.
"Thank you."
You placed the folder down, n either of you moved. Months of practice, careful planning had made these moments easy to disguise. To everyone else it looked like an ordinary work exchange.
To Adam it felt unbearable. Because you were standing less than three feet away and he couldn't touch you. Couldn't kiss your forehead. Couldn't ask about your day. Couldn't tell you that he'd slept badly because you'd worked a double shift and hadn't come home until after midnight. Instead he simply opened the folder.
"You've missed three signatures."
Your eyebrow rose. "Have I?"
"Page seven." You leaned over the desk. Close enough for him to catch the familiar scent of your shampoo, close enough to recognize the sent of your favorite perfume, close enough to remind him exactly why this arrangement was becoming increasingly difficult.
Your shoulder brushed his, purely accidental yet Adam's pulse jumped. His ears began to redden and his jaw clenched. You noticed immediately.
Of course you did. A tiny smile threatened the corner of your mouth, then your eyes flicked briefly across the room.
Towards him.
Towards Collins.
And understanding dawned on you, the smile disappeared. Not because you were amused. Because you finally understood why Adam had spent the entire morning behaving like a man being slowly poisoned.
"Oh." The word escaped before you could stop it.
Adam's expression became dangerously neutral. A sure sign he was internally suffering.
You looked at Collins.
Then back at Adam.
Then at Collins again.
The pieces slid together with embarrassing ease, the interrupted briefing the short curt answers. The unusually cold demeanor. The fact that Adam had been staring holes through an innocent detective for the better part of four hours. Your lips twitched. "Don't." His voice was low. You bit the inside of your cheek.
"Adamâ" "Not here." Which confirmed everything.
A laugh nearly escaped, you managed to suppress it, trying to protect his dignity. Adam closed the folder with precision. The movement alone told you exactly how agitated he was."Go finish your statements."
"Yes, Commander." The title was deliberate. His eyes narrowed.
You turned before your composure failed entirely. As you walked away, Collins waved from across the room. You waved back automatically.
The sound of a pen snapping echoed from Adam's desk.
The office had thinned and the work had stretched into the kind of late hour where fatigue softened everything except awareness, and Adam eventually stepped out of his office intending to close the day only to find you asleep on the sofa, not carefully or deliberately, but completely, as though exhaustion had simply taken what it needed without negotiation, your arm tucked beneath your head and a case file resting half-forgotten against your fingers.
Collinsâs jacket lay over you.
Adam stopped.
There was no immediate reaction on his face, nothing that would have betrayed thought to anyone watching, but something in his chest tightened in a way that had very little patience for logic, because Collins had done nothing wrong, had simply noticed what anyone might have noticed and acted on it without hesitation, and that, more than anything, was what made the feeling so difficult to name without irritation.
Collins sat a few desks away, surrounded by witness statements and empty coffee cups. Every so often his attention drifted from the paperwork toward the sofa, checking on you before returning to whatever report he was working through.
When he noticed Adam, he straightened slightly.
"Sir."
"Still here, Collins?â
"Just finishing the Southwark summaries."
Adam glanced at the stack of papers beside him and gave a brief nod. It was a reasonable enough explanation. "Didn't want to wake them," Collins added, his gaze flicking toward the sofa.
A perfectly ordinary comment. Adam looked down at the file in his hands, though he couldn't have said what was written on the page. "You're off duty."
Collins hesitated. "Nearly done."
"Nevertheless."
The younger detective blinked, clearly weighing whether that was a suggestion or an order. Judging by the expression that followed, he wisely decided it was the latter. "Right." He began collecting his things. Files disappeared into a satchel. Pens followed. Adam remained where he was, watching the office through the calm detachment that years of command had made second nature. Eventually Collins slung the bag over one shoulder and reached for his coat.
Then stopped.
"Oh."His attention landed on the jacket draped over you. For some reason, that single syllable irritated Adam more than it had any right to.
"I should probablyâ"
"Leave it." The words came out before he could reconsider them. Collins looked surprised. Adam was not entirely pleased with himself either.
A brief silence stretched between them.
"The jacket," Adam clarified. "Right. Of course."
Another pause. "Goodnight, sir."
"Goodnight."
The detective left, the office door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed seemed deeper than before. Adam remained standing for a moment, listening to the rain against the windows. His eyes drifted to the jacket abandoned over the back of the sofa. There was nothing remarkable about it.
Just a coat
Dark wool.
Sensible.
It had served its purpose. Still, his gaze lingered there longer than necessary before moving back to you. The thought that crossed his mind was not one he felt particularly proud of. He dismissed it.
He dismissed it. Unfortunately, dismissing a thought was not quite the same thing as getting rid of it. With a quiet sigh, he crossed the room. The file balanced on your lap looked moments away from sliding to the floor. He lifted it away first and placed it on a nearby table before looking down at you properly.
Even asleep, you looked tired. The strain he'd been seeing all week had finally eased from your face. A loose strand of hair had fallen across your forehead. Without thinking, he brushed it aside. You stirred slightly but didn't wake.
His attention drifted back to the jacket.
A practical gesture. Nothing more than that.
After a moment, he bent down and lifted it away, folding it neatly before placing it on the back of a nearby chair. Then he slipped off his own coat and draped it over you instead. The heavier fabric settled around your shoulders.
Almost immediately you shifted closer into the warmth. Adam looked away. "Hopeless," he muttered. The criticism lacked conviction. You made a faint noise in your sleep and settled further into the coat, apparently satisfied with the exchange.
Adam stood there a moment longer than necessary. Long enough to confirm you were comfortable. Long enough to realise he wasn't in any hurry to return to his office. In the end, he dragged a chair closer to the sofa and sat down beside you, telling himself it was to finish reviewing reports.
The fact that he didn't open a single one for the next ten minutes was a matter he chose not to examine too closely.
You surfaced from sleep slowly, awareness returning in fragments rather than all at once, the kind of gradual return that left you unsure where the dream ended and the office began until the rain against the windows, the faint ticking of a clock, and the weight of exhaustion finally anchored you back into reality.
And then you felt it. A hand on your shoulder.
âCome on,â Adam said quietly, his voice low enough that it barely disturbed the silence, and when you opened your eyes he was leaning over you, one hand still resting against your shoulder while the other held his glasses loosely, as though he had taken them off only moments ago to give himself a break he clearly wasnât taking.
For a moment neither of you moved, and then his expression softened slightly when he realized you were awake.
âThere you are.â You blinked up at him, still half caught in sleep. âWhat time is it?â
âHalf three,â he replied. The answer made you groan immediately.
Adamâs mouth twitched. âAn eloquent response.â
âIâm sleeping here,â you muttered, shifting slightly like that might somehow reinforce your argument.
âNo.â
âYes.â
âNo.â
You closed your eyes again in stubborn protest, which turned out to be a mistake, because the sofa dipped immediately and your eyes snapped open again just in time to feel his arm slide behind your back and the other beneath your knees.
âAdam,â you warned weakly, though your voice lacked any real strength. His gaze met yours, calm in the way that usually meant he had already decided everything.
âYou can barely keep your eyes open.â
âI can walk.â
âYou fell asleep reading witness statements.â
âThatâs irrelevant.â
âIt is not.â
And before you could argue further, he lifted you fully into his arms. Effortlessly. Which, unfortunately, only confirmed what you already suspected about him. The fact that he had clearly made a decision about this several seconds before you woke up.
âYouâre enjoying this,â you accused immediately, narrowing your eyes.
âI am carrying you,â he replied evenly as he adjusted his grip, âbecause you are exhausted and would otherwise attempt to walk into a wall.â
âThat is a dramatic assumption.â
âIt is an accurate one.â You huffed, but the sound dissolved into a small laugh as he turned toward the corridor, and his arm tightened slightly around you in response, not enough to feel restrictive, just enough that you noticed, which somehow made it worse.
The building was quiet at this hour, the kind of quiet that only came when even the most dedicated officers had finally surrendered to fatigue, so there was no urgency in his steps, no need for distance or restraint, and for once that fact seemed to sit comfortably between you rather than complicate it.
âYou know,â you murmured after a moment, head resting against his shoulder, âI can actually walk.â
âSo youâve said,â he replied.
âYou arenât listening.â
âI am listening.â
âYou just disagree.â
âYes.â
That earned a faint, tired laugh from you, and you felt rather than saw the way his expression shifted slightly at the sound, the smallest softening around his eyes that never appeared in the presence of anyone else. After a moment, his thumb brushed lightly against your sleeve, almost absent-minded, like he hadnât realized heâd done it until it was already over.
âIâve hardly seen you this week,â he said quietly, and the admission sat between you both in a way that was unexpectedly honest. You looked up at him properly then, studying his face. âYou could have said something.â
A faint, reluctant curve touched his mouth, something close to resignation and affection all at once. âI suspect that would not have changed the workload.â
âProbably not,â you admitted. He adjusted you slightly as he reached the lift, still not putting you down, still not even pretending he was considering it.
âAnd yet,â you added, watching him, âyouâre carrying me anyway.â
His eyes met yours briefly as the doors opened. âI am correcting a situation,â he said simply, stepping inside, âthat should have been corrected earlier.â
You smiled into his shoulder. âThat sounds suspiciously like an excuse.â
âIt is not.â
âIt absolutely is.â
And for once, he didnât argue further, which in itself felt like an answer, especially when his arm stayed firmly around you as the lift doors closed and the world outside narrowed to just the two of you, suspended somewhere between exhaustion and something neither of you needed to name out loud to understand.
The lift had barely begun its descent when you shifted in his arms, no longer asleep but still comfortably tucked against him in a way that suggested you had no intention of making his life easier, and Adam, for his part, seemed to have settled far too easily into the role of carrying you, as though the transition from urgent practicality to quiet inevitability had happened without his permission, especially now that his attention was fixed a little too carefully on the lift indicator above the doors rather than on you.
âAdam,â you said, tilting your head against his shoulder.
âHm?â he answered, still not looking down.
âWhy were you glaring at Collins all week?â
âI wasnât,â he replied immediately, too immediately, adjusting his grip slightly as the lift slowed.
âYou were.â
âI wasnât.â
The doors opened, and he stepped out into the corridor with you still in his arms as though it were the most unremarkable thing in the world, while you let the silence sit between you for a moment, listening to his steady footsteps before adding, âRemember my cousin from Southwark?â
The question landed lightly enough, but his pace changed anyway, just enough for you to notice as his gaze finally dropped to you with faint suspicion.
âYour cousin,â he repeated.
âYes,â you confirmed, far too casually.
A pause followed, one that visibly deepened as something in his expression shifted.
âCollins?â he asked. You nodded.
And for a moment he simply stopped walking altogether, standing there in the middle of the corridor while the realization took shape in stages, his mind clearly retracing every interaction, every glance, every carefully observed moment that had apparently meant something entirely different in hindsight, until finallyââOh.â
It was quiet. But it carried a level of internal collapse that made you bite back a laugh immediately. âAdam,â you began, already failing to sound serious.
He closed his eyes briefly as if that might undo the last two weeks of assumptions.
âYou could have mentioned that,â he said at last, still holding you as though his body had not yet decided what to do with this new information.
âI thought you remembered.â
âYou never said Collins.â
âIâm fairly sure I did.â
âYou didnât.â
âI did.â
âYou didnât.â
The certainty in his tone only made it worse, and you lost the battle entirely, laughing as he resumed walking again, though now with a tension in his shoulders that hadnât been there before. âYou thought I was flirting with my cousin,â you managed between laughs, watching him carefully.
âHe was always near your desk,â he replied, voice carefully neutral. âBecause heâs my cousin.â
âHe kept bringing you coffee.â
âHe brings coffee to half the building.â
âYou laughed at everything he said.â
âAdam,â you said, still smiling, âheâs my cousin.â That seemed to land harder than anything else, and for a brief moment he said nothing at all, just continued walking with the faintest tightening around his jaw before lifting a hand briefly to his forehead as though trying to physically reorganize the last fortnight of his life.
By the time you reached the car you were still laughing, and Adam looked like a man actively reconsidering several major life decisions, including some that clearly involved professional ethics and others that involved you, and when he finally set you down, you stepped forward immediately and wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, still grinning into his shoulder.
To your surprise, he didnât pull away, only paused for a moment before his arms settled around you properly, steady and familiar, and when his forehead finally rested lightly against yours his voice came quieter than before, almost resigned. âYouâre never going to let this go.â
âNot a chance,â you said, still smiling.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if accepting a verdict he had no right to appeal. âThat,â he murmured, âis exactly what I was afraid of.â
You know," you murmured against his shoulder, "the fact that you were jealous is actually quite sweet."
"It wasn't jealousy." The denial came automatically. You smiled, snorting into his shoulder. Adam sighed, resting his forehead lightly against yours.
"It was concern."
"Mm."
"For your judgment."
"Mm."
His eyes narrowed slightly. You laughed again. And when his expression finally softened into reluctant amusement, you reached up and brushed a hand through his hair.
"I love you too, Commander."
The look he gave you suggested he knew exactly what you'd done. Unfortunately for him, the corner of his mouth twitched anyway. And that was all the confirmation you needed.
â Another treat! I was fairly busy this week but now Iâve managed to clear up my schedule and finish one of my drafts. I hope you enjoyed this!
Credits to @madinthemoon for the photo!













