D

“I like your laugh,” Lemon says, quietly. You smile.

“Ah, you are a right soppy sod sometimes, you know that?”

“Only with you, love.”

The rain is hitting the flat window, the football is on, and the two of you are content. You hear the shower turn off in the next room, and after a moment Tangerine walks through the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stops at the kitchen counter for a moment to grab the mug of tea you made for him earlier along with Lemon’s and your own - white and two sugars for Lemon, white for you, black for Tangerine.

“Go and put a shirt on, you tart,” you tell him, “you’re dripping on the carpet.”

Tangerine doesn’t respond to that, but he does look annoyed when he notices the tv.

“Did you start watching the football without me?”

“You were taking too long in the shower,” Lemon says, simply.

“Probably all the hair products he uses,” you say to Lemon.

“Probably is all the hair products he uses,” Lemon agrees.

Tangerine hurries off, muttering to himself, but within a couple of minutes he’s dressed and sitting on the other end of the sofa. The three of you sit in companionable silence, savouring one of the rare times you’re not out on a job. When you can pretend to be normal people for a change. When you can be next to Lemon and not worry if he's about to die every moment.