unit bravo let me love you

He doesn’t get it, though. He doesn’t know how much money Nate drops on random shit. Amelia, on the other hand, is very aware. After she’d accidentally bumped into an ugly old vase, very nearly knocking it over, Felix had been only too happy to explain why Nate’s entire body had suddenly tensed. And then it was Amelia’s turn to freeze, of course, because she’s pretty sure her entire damn apartment had cost less.

“Okay, how about we try again and this time with less sarcasm and more wisdom,” she bites back to which Verda chuckles and finally, finally, looks up to meet her eye. Good. 

“Sorry, Detective. But it doesn’t seem to me like there’s a problem here. Are you really angry that Nate will probably get you something you’ll like?”

Well, it just sounds stupid, when he puts it like that. Still, she nods, vigorous. “Yeah! Because that means I have to get him something he’ll love too! And you know how much I get paid, Verda, 10th-century antiques are a bit out of my price range.”

“Why don’t you get him something within your price range then?” he suggests reasonably, but Amelia wouldn’t be in this situation if ‘reasonable’ worked.

Her frown deepens. Nate deserves the best; doesn’t matter if it’s gifts or people or whatever else, he deserves nothing short of perfection and like hell if Amelia isn’t going to at least try and get that for him.

“I can’t get him socks and deodorant,” she says with a scoff. “I need something… y’know, special.”

She feels stupid even just admitting that and now it’s her turn to avoid Verda’s gaze as it softens. She’s not… good at this whole thing, is the problem. And she doesn’t like feeling inadequate.

“Amelia,” Verda starts and yeah, full name, gentle tone, she’s in for a Talk. She winces. “You know there are more important things to a gift than its price tag or its size. I’m sure he’ll love anything you get him.”

“I know. It’s just… it just sucks, y’know? ‘Cause I feel like I can get him something really cool, something he’ll love not just ‘cause it’s from me but ‘cause it’s a great fucking gift. But I’m so broke it’s not even funny.”

When Verda frowns it’s his thinking frown and tentatively, hope begins to rise in her chest. “What about a Christmas bonus from the Agency?”

“Is that a thing? I don’t know if that’s a thing. Do supernaturals even celebrate Christmas?”

He shrugs, but there’s a smile on his lips that’s almost mischievous and, well, Amelia would like to think that’s her influence, at least a little bit. “You do.”

“Are you suggesting I use my position as the person with the world’s freakiest blood to get some extra cash to buy my boyfriend an overpriced and, frankly, overrated painting?”

“I would never.”

But Amelia’s already grinning at him because yeah, that could work. And if it doesn’t, she can always guilt-trip Rebecca into talking to her bosses or something; not the most moral choice, sure, but Amelia’s already exhausted her good deeds of the year. She’s allowed to be a shitty person for a couple more days.

With a sudden surge of energy, she pushes herself up from her chair and dashes towards the door of the lab.

“Thanks, Verda, you’re the best, happy holidays!”

She’s gone before she can hear Verda’s chuckle or see the shake of his head.

"Well!" Tina is all too glad to close the book, slipping a bookmark between the pages with the sort of speed and efficiency that come only with years of practice, and turns around to fully face Catherine. "It's a period piece and the main character, Loretta, is the poor daughter of a seamstress. She's supposed to be helping out her mom, but she has no interest in sewing and honestly, she pretty much sucks at it. There's this scene where-- oh, wait, no, I'm skipping things."

Catherine laughs and continues to listen as Tina goes on to explain Loretta's got a smart mouth that often gets her into trouble, most notably when she insults a rich, eligible bachelor who is passing through her village on his way to his estate in the city.

The two seem to get into a lot of arguments, from what Catherine gathers, but apparently, according to Tina most of them are full of sexual tension.

“They totally like to argue,” she says with confidence. “Even when they agree, they find a way to spin it into an argument because they like the tension.”

“Aw, come on.” Catherine waves a hand, expression schooled in doubt. “I’m not trying to nitpick but who actually likes arguing? That makes no sense”

She tries to imagine it, being this heroine in Tina’s book, and without prompting, Adam’s face pops up in her head when she thinks of the hero. Probably because he’s the most stubborn, prickly bastard she knows, she reasons. And it’s not like she has to try hard to imagine them arguing, anyway, not when every other conversation between them seems to end in disagreement.

Does she play it up sometimes? Well, sure, but the only reason she finds it fun to rile him up every now and then is that it’s the most emotion he ever shows. Certainly not because of sexual tension or whatever Tina’s on about it.

“It’s love, Catherine.” Tina is shaking her head at her. “It doesn’t have to make sense.”

“Sure, sure. So what happens next? I’m guessing they don’t just admit they’re into each other and get it over it?”

“Of course not. Where would the fun in that be?”

“Of course,” Catherine echoes, a grin tugging at her lips.

She doesn’t even try to remember all the trials and tribulations the two seem to go through -- and how Tina remembers it all in such vivid detail is beyond her -- but eventually, she can’t help but chime in again.

“Woah, wait, wait, wait!” She raises a hand, brows furrowed. “They’ve been through all that and William still doesn’t want to admit he’s into her? Man, what a dumbass. Like, she almost died! What more does he need?”

Tina nods vigorously. “I know, right! And it’s so obvious to everyone but her! His best friend mentions it like ten times and Loretta still thinks William hates her!”

Catherine shakes her head. Characters in books and films are always so oblivious.

“Y’know, I think I get it now, why you get so worked up over those things. If I was you, I’d be losing my shit too.”

“Well, thank you,” Tina quips. “Nice to know you finally feel my pain.”

--

Adam isn’t sure whether to be grateful for Catherine’s apparent lack of awareness or disappointed by it.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on her conversation, only intended to check up on her and make sure she’s alright, but her friend’s story had caught his attention. Despite his distaste for these ‘romance novels’, the similarities between himself and Catherine and the two characters in the book aren’t lost to him as they seemingly are to Catherine. In light of that, her comments are filled with irony that he finds both melancholic and amusing.

Man, what a dumbass, she says of this William and Adam’s lips twitch. How much he wishes he could just tell her how much he enjoys her sarcastic quips, how ‘into her’ he is. How knowing Nate’s gaze is and how much Adam wishes he could tell him he’s wrong.

Indeed, what a dumbass.

He makes to turn back and leave the station; Catherine is evidently alive and well, something that brings him great relief, and he has no further business here. But as he approaches the door to the station, her voice catches his attention again.

“They better get their heads out of their asses and get together,” she’s saying he assumes in regards to the ending of the book. “I mean, that’s the whole deal with books, right? That you always get a happy ending?”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” her friend complains. “Let me believe happy endings aren’t just for books.”

Catherine laughs and the sound of it warms Adam’s chest. He feels his lips twitch again as if a natural response to hearing her happiness.

“Sure they aren’t! But if any Williams out there think they can get away with pulling that denial thing on me, they’ve got another thing coming before the happy ending.”

“Atta girl,” her friend agrees but Adam is already past the doors; Catherine will be the death of him, that much he knows for a fact.

--

Adam frowns at her as she says this but he does eventually agree, even if he does warn her that if she isn’t back within the hour, they’ll come looking for her. Lara’s response is to beam at him.

“Thank you,” she says genuinely before throwing the team one last smile and setting off to find Falk. She thinks she catches Mason throw her an odd look as she does, but she can’t be sure it isn’t just her imagination.

In comparison to convincing Unit Bravo to do anything, locating Falk is an easy task. And while Lara might not have supernatural senses when it comes to detecting others’ thoughts and feelings, being the people person she is she’s learnt to pick up on some non-verbal cues -- Falk, if she’s reading him right, seems surprised to see her again, and so soon at that, but he also seems pleased.

“Detective,” he inclines his head in greeting. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing of the sort. Sorry to worry you.” Her smile doesn’t falter even as she takes in the curious glances the two seem to attract, but her hands go to fidget with the hem of her cardigan. “Can we talk? In private? I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Falk holds her gaze for a moment longer before an almost playful smile grows on his lips. “On the contrary, detective, feel free to take up as much of my time as you desire.”

Lara isn’t sure what to make of the comment, especially since the implications it carries seem to lend themselves to a certain vibe she’s been getting from him on more than one occasion, but fortunately, he doesn’t seem to be expecting a response. He gestures for her to follow him as he leads them away from the main cave to a much more secluded spot.

“That’s really beautiful,” Lara can’t help but note as she takes in the greenery spreading out miles and miles ahead in front of them.

Falk lets out a soft sound of agreement. “That it is.”

She glances down, wiping her palms on the soft material of her skirt. The words she’s come here to say suddenly get stuck in her throat and even as she clears it, she doesn’t seem to be able to get them out. But she has to.

“I’m sorry about Sanja,” she says finally, voice quiet. The wind whistles around them, blowing strands of ginger hair around her face, but she barely even notices. “I- It’s my fault she… didn’t make it and I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am. I meant to tell you earlier, but-”

She falls quiet as she sees him reach out a hand towards her face, glancing down at her with an unreadable expression. She doesn’t move away even as a small part of her is afraid he might inflict the disease on her once again, but he merely tucks a stray hair behind her ear.

“I think I understand now,” he says finally, voice just as quiet as hers. Lara’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and he clarifies, “What you meant back at the carnival. When you said everybody feels guilt over something, but that doesn’t mean they deserve to be punished for it.”

“Oh.”

“I may not be able to read you, detective, but I don’t need to to know you carry a lot of guilt. It’s not just Sanja, is it?”

Lara looks away under the weight of the memories his question brings forward.

“No,” she admits. “A few months ago… there was a killer. He murdered two people, a young woman and a boy, and the reason he was in Wayhaven at all was because of me.”

She’s surprised and embarrassed to feel herself tear up but Falk offers no judgement, instead continuing to look at her calmly. She shakes her head.

“In any case, I just wanted to apologise. It’s my choice that got Sanja killed and I thought you needed to know.”

“I disagree,” Falk says despite the obvious pain in his eyes when Sanja is mentioned. “It is not you to blame for her passing, detective. I’m certain you did everything in your power to rescue her from these ‘Trappers’.”

Lara isn’t sure if she sees it quite this way but she’s grateful for his forgiveness. And she can’t help it, she’s always been a very tactile person -- she pulls him into a hug. It’s a little awkward, as is probably to be expected with how surprised he seems to be and how tiny she is compared to him, but it offers her some of the comfort she seeks, as hugs usually tend to do.

“You keep surprising me, detective,” Falk says once she pulls back and Lara manages a smile.

“Please, just Lara is fine.”

“Very well… Lara.” His accent seems especially thick as it wraps around her name, saying it in such a way that he almost seems to savour it. Once again, Lara isn’t sure how to react; her romantic interests, though she’s still very reluctant to call whatever Falk might feel for her as such, don’t seem to be working out too well as of late, with Mason’s disinterest in anything beyond sex and Bobby’s general attitude.

She is happy, however, that Falk is still so open to building a more friendly relationship with the Agency or at least with her. The entire time everything was going on, she held onto the hope that they could all come to a peaceful resolution and she’s beyond happy her optimism wasn’t misplaced.

“Well,” she takes a deep breath, shaking off her more morbid thoughts. Her smile softens as she once again looks up to meet Falk’s eyes. “I suppose I should be heading back now, but maybe I could stop by again sometime?”

“I would like that very much.”

--

This raises another curious thought if Adam even knows what Pokemon is, but that’s a question for another day. Right now, Grace can’t really pay attention to anything but Felix, which, in general, seems to be the case quite often. She shifts around to prop her chin on his shoulder and glances down at her old 3DS in his hands.

“Wait, you have a shiny Tranquill?”

He does his best to shift his head around and look at her. “What’s a shiny Tranquill?”

They haven’t covered the topic of shinies yet, mostly because Grace didn’t think it was essential information, but now here Felix is, with a shiny on his very first time playing the game. She would be more surprised, really, but it only serves to confirm something she’s known for a while now; Felix is no ordinary man in a way that has nothing to do with the fact he isn’t human.

She can’t stop herself from pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and basks in the way a familiar grin spreads on his lips.

“I think I like that whole shiny Tranquill thing.” He winks at her, or at least does his best to with their faces so close together, before adding, “No, but really. What is it?”

“Well, basically, a shiny is just a regular pokemon with different colouring. They’re usually pretty rare, though. Less than a 1% chance to get one.”

Felix’s eyes gleam. “I guess I’m just that lucky then,” he says, and as he meets her eye once again, his gaze so warm and affectionate, it’s hard not to think he means more than just Pokemon. Grace can’t stifle a smile.

“Keep it up and you’ll be the very best in no time at all,” she reassures, referencing the show’s theme song. They listened to it earlier and Felix seems to enjoy it very much, if their impromptu karaoke sessions throughout the afternoon are of any indication.

They continue playing for some time, with Grace’s head remaining propped up on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around him. Despite her excitement over the existence of the supernatural world, she finds she enjoys those quiet, mundane moments with Felix just as much. Not that moments with him can usually qualify as ‘quiet’, but his voice is quickly becoming one of her favourite sounds so it’s not like she minds.

The game seems to be going well too. By the time he reaches Slateport City, Felix has assembled one of the cutest teams she’s ever seen, which makes the following exchange inevitable, really, when she thinks of it.

“Wait, contests? You never mentioned that!” he says as if she’s committed a personal offence against him and in retrospect, yeah, she thinks she should’ve figured he’d be interested in that.

“They’re not really a thing in most of the other games,” she admits somewhat sheepishly. “I guess I just sorta forgot.”

“They’re not? Why not? I wanna show off my adorable pokemon.”

“To be honest, contests were pretty crappy back in the day. It was just piling accessories on top of your pokemon and hoping for the best.” Felix’s expression tells her her explanation’s done nothing to discourage him and Grace laughs. “Trust me, it sounds a lot more fun than it is.”

“But in this one it’s better?”

“Definitely. And you know, I don’t think I ever collected all the ribbons in any of my playthroughs.”

Naturally, Felix absolutely cannot move on until he has all of them. His journey to becoming the very best is quickly sidelined in favour of becoming top coordinator and honestly, as long as he’s having fun Grace is happy. Late afternoon seamlessly bleeds into early evening, but neither of them pays any particular attention to the change outside, much too wrapped up in their little bubble of joy and casual domesticity.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Grace thinks about how she could never enjoy moments like these with Bobby. He never really showed interest in any of her hobbies, much less tried them out himself. And she’s not in the habit of thinking about Bobby, usually, but with how much he’s inserted himself back into her life as of late, it seems inevitable not to notice how much he falls short when compared to her new boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The mere word is enough to send her heart into a flutter and Grace snuggles deeper into Felix at the feeling.

“This is taking so long,” he complains as he fails to win another ribbon. “How did Chaz beat me? My Tranquill is way cuter than his Mychoke.”

“Machoke,” Grace corrects with a smile. “Why don’t you make some pokeblocks and feed them to Tranquill? That should give you an extra edge in the first round.”

Felix takes her advice and in the next contest, he manages to beat Chaz by a few points.

“Ha!” He pulls away from Grace in order to fully turn around and face her. His grin is wide, his amber eyes practically sparkling, and Grace already feels an answering smile tug at her lips, a subconscious response to his excitement. “Gracie, you’re a genius.”

“I do take great pride in my Pokemon knowledge.” She laughs but pulls him in for a quick kiss anyway. At the very least, it’s supposed to be a quick kiss but once their lips touch, she can’t help but get distracted and the kiss lingers.

A part of her marvels at how no matter how many times they kiss, it still never fails to give her butterflies. She doesn’t consider herself particularly sappy or overly romantic, but with Felix, everything just feels more meaningful and exciting.

“We should do that more often,” he grins at her once they part.

“What, kiss?”

“Well, yeah, definitely that too. But I meant more the whole ‘spending time together without crazy killers or deadly illnesses lurking around’.”

Once again she smiles, something she seems to do a lot around Felix. “I’d like that. And technically, we still haven’t even had an official first date.”

He blinks as though the thought has only now occurred to him. “Let’s go on a date then.”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

Well. No time like the present, Grace supposes and nods along, giddiness rising in her chest. “Okay. Sure. Let’s go on a date.”

A familiar cheeky grin spreads on Felix’s lips and makes his entire face light up; Grace is pretty sure her heart skips a beat.

“This is going to be the best date ever,” he says and she has no doubt he’s right.

--

Tranquill: a dual-type Normal/Flying Pokémon that evolves from Pidove starting at level 21.

“I know. But that’s got to be one of my favourite Disney films of all time.”

He sighs as if this is his own personal definition of torture and Lara gently pats his thigh; if this is his reaction to her eagerness, she can only imagine what he’ll be like when the songs roll around.

“You could’ve just said no,” she points out with another smile, this time almost teasing. “I wouldn’t have been offended.”

And it’s true. She respects the fact that she and Mason have very different likes for the most part and she would never want to force him into anything he wouldn’t enjoy; however, with how headstrong and, frankly, prickly he can be, she can’t imagine anyone could ever force him to do anything he doesn’t want to.

Mason lets out a huff but offers no other response to her words and Lara lets out a short laugh before her attention eventually shifts back to the film.

Predictably, Mason does roll his eyes and does let out a rather loud groan as they watch Aurora sing and dance in the forest, but mostly he just stays quiet throughout; Lara would think he’s not even paying attention if not for the occasional snarky comment.

However, one of the jokes does also manage to get a snort out of him (“The dress looks awful!”, “That’s because it’s on you, dear.”) and that in turn makes Lara practically beam at him. He immediately frowns again once he catches her look.

“What?”

She gives a small shrug, still smiling. “I like hearing your laugh. I like hearing you happy.”

Mason’s eyebrows furrow in an expression she would usually call confusion on anybody but him. He holds her gaze for a moment longer, as though what she said is something complex to be figured out, and when she does nothing but smile back, he eventually huffs and looks away. However, the arm he has around her shoulders tightens slightly as he pulls her in even closer.

The rest of the film goes by in silence and by the time the ending credits roll around, Lara feels like time has flown by. She opens her mouth to say something, but as she turns to look at Mason, she finds him already looking back at her. Her mouth snaps shut under his intense gaze.

A long moment passes and as he says nothing still, she finally speaks up. “What did you think?”

“Take a wild guess, sweetheart.” The expression on his face suggests he finds it incredulous she would even ask something like that and she lets out a laugh.

“Well, that’s okay, I didn’t really expect you’d enjoy it. But thanks for watching it with me anyway.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

The question catches her by surprise, mostly because she didn’t expect him to ask, but it’s a welcome surprise for sure. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know quite what to say.

“I think a big part of it is nostalgia, really,” she answers honestly. “I used to watch it all the time when I was younger. But I also just really like the whole idea of true love’s kiss.”

The second she says that she sees his expression shift as he’s seemingly torn between teasing her about her admission or letting her know just how stupid he finds it. In the end, a smirk spreads on his lips.

“I’d be happy to let you practice on me anytime,” he says and she can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up in her chest; it seems he’s found a third option too.

“Thank you for the offer. I especially hope you remember it if I prick my finger on a spinning wheel and fall into a magical slumber.”

Mason snorts dismissively. “As if I’d ever let that happen.”

It’s such a simple comment and yet it makes Lara’s chest warm at the knowledge he genuinely means it. She leans forward to kiss him, slow and deep, letting all the love she feels for him flow through the kiss, and he doesn’t try to change it into something more heated or sensual either. Instead, he just responds in kind, matching her pace beat by beat, and Lara soon loses herself in the feeling of his lips on hers.

When they do separate, she rests her forehead against his for a second, keeping her eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. Finally, her eyes flutter open once again and as she pulls back, she’s greeted by the sight of Mason’s smirk.

“How’s that for a true love’s kiss, sweetheart?”

“You think this is true love?” she asks before she can help herself. The look she receives in response seems to imply she’s being silly for even asking at all, as if the answer is obvious. And when she thinks about it, it really is.

“Now. What do you say we see what other acts of true love there are?” Despite the sarcasm practically tangible in his voice as he says ‘acts of true love’, there’s something soft and fond in Mason’s eyes and Lara quickly finds herself swooped up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct as he stands up from the couch. He carries her to the bedroom as if she weighs no more than a couple of pounds and she can’t stop giggling throughout it all; if this is what her happily ever after looks like, she doesn’t mind at all.

--

Aurora: a fictional character who appears in Walt Disney Productions' 16th animated feature film Sleeping Beauty

She lets out an annoyed sigh.

“I’m sorry, that’s shit.” The word ‘sorry’ doesn’t usually feature in her vocabulary but it’s Nate, and, well, she’s fucked up pretty bad; she feels that deserves making an exception.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he protests immediately and actually, she believes that. He’d definitely find a fancier, nicer way to say it. “It just has a lot of flavour.”

There it is, she thinks almost fondly, but then Nate smiles over at her and adds, “Kind of like you.”

In any other case, she would assume she’s just been insulted. When it comes to Nate, however, she’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean it as an insult. He’s much too nice for that, and even Amelia who’s so used to expecting the worst from people can’t bring herself to do that with him.

“Thanks, I guess. But you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings or whatever, y’know? We can just order pizza.”

Nate shakes his head emphatically. “No, no, please. You've put time and effort into this meal, I would like to finish it.”

She throws him a sceptical look. “Really? Like, all of it?”

“All of it.” And she watches with furrowed brows as he willingly takes another bite of his food, chewing for some time before smiling encouragingly at her and adding, “The meat is very tender!”

“Tender,” she repeats, unimpressed. “That’s the best you can come up with.”

“It’s also very… fiery.”

She holds back a wince at that; it’s possible that in a fit of inspiration and creativity she might’ve gone a bit overboard with the spices as well. But honesty is hard, even with Nate, and in comparison, flirtation is much easier. So she lets a smirk spread on her lips as she leans forward to rest an elbow on the table and props her chin up on her hand.

“Let me guess. Fiery, kind of like me.”

Nate raises an eyebrow, but it doesn’t take long for him to respond in kind; it’s one of the things that draw Amelia most to him, his ability to just adapt to whatever she throws at him. “Precisely like you. Fiery, spicy, with a certain… bite to it.”

She can’t help her snort. “That was such a line. But go on, finish your ‘tender’ chicken, Casanova, and then we can see about dessert.”

He chuckles in response and goes to take another bite. Amelia, meanwhile, just watches him; she has no intention at all of eating the abomination on her plate, and she doesn’t have an amazing girlfriend whose feelings she doesn’t want to hurt either so she’s curious to see how far Nate will go in that regard.

“We could cook together someday,” he suggests once he’s swallowed down yet another bite. “Only if you’d like to, of course.”

“It’s a pass from me, man, sorry. I don’t really do the whole cooking thing.”

It takes a moment for her to realise why Nate suddenly smiles at her, so warm and fond, and once the realisation hits, she hurries to backtrack, “I mean, I totally cook all the time. I didn’t do all that just for you. It’s something I do. All the time.”

Nate, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eye. “Of course,” he agrees easily.

Amelia frowns at him, to which he just keeps smiling. It’s weird. He’s weird. Amelia may not be the best at the whole dating thing, but she doesn’t need to be; Nate is just too nice and perfect for her to understand anyway.

It’s a problem she’s never had with Bobby, her only other real ‘boyfriend’. With him, they were just assholes together, both perfectly aware of each other’s shitty attitude. And it worked. (Then again, did it really? Considering she can barely stomach talking to him now, Amelia’s inclined to think of their relationship as one big fat failure -- yet another reason she doesn’t really do dating.)

With Nate, though, it constantly catches her off-guard how nice he is for the sake of being nice and how much she feels for him already after knowing him for only half a year. It scares her.

“Mia?” he calls out and her eyes snap back to him. He’s looking at her, eyebrows furrowed in concern that still confuses a part of her. “Are you okay?”

It’s easy to wave a hand dismissively and turn to sarcasm. “Sure. Just tryna figure out if your vampire healing is gonna save you from all that poison I’m feeding you.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. “I assure you, I’m quite alright.”

“Oh, I’d say so.” She takes in the sight of him once again, notes the extra effort he’s put in for their date, and just as it had when she’d first opened the door, her heart speeds up.

Nate catches her gaze and she’s happy to see similar feelings reflected in his. “I believe you mentioned something about dessert?”

The horrendous meal remains forgotten for the rest of the evening, though Amelia doesn’t consider that a loss. In fact, if anything, it’s a sign that she absolutely shouldn’t, under any circumstances, be allowed inside of a kitchen, ever -- a sentiment Nate seems to find amusing as she tells him so later.

Regardless, a part of her is considering taking him up on that offer to cook together after all, but really, that doesn’t have much to do with cooking and everything to do with just spending time with Nate. And, well, if it means she gets to impress him with her improved cooking skills one day, that’s just a bonus.

--

Also inspired by this ask Sera answered ages ago:

If the detective was a bad cook, “N would eat [the meal] as best they could, but then also offer to cook together to help the MC improve their skills if they wanted to learn. If not, then they would suffer through the meals.”

Felix’s eyebrows are furrowed as he blinks in confusion, a feeling that Adam must admit he shares. As far as he’s aware, kings have no relation to Murphy and they certainly have not come up in conversation; the way the detective’s mind works is most strange, but this isn’t news to him.

“Which king? Because I remember you humans-- you people have had a lot of those,” Felix grins at her while Adam feels his muscles tighten. Yet once again, Felix seems to have ‘slipped up’ as he himself likes to put it, and at this point, they’re lucky humans don’t believe in the supernatural.

But the detective only seems to wave him off, fortunately, and Adam forces himself to relax; he’ll have the chance to have a nice, long talk with Felix later about what is okay to say in front of her and what is most certainly not.

“No, no, it doesn’t matter which one,” she’s explaining in the meantime and she seems to have foregone all attempts at keeping her voice down. “Okay, let’s do that again, but this time just ask where. Okay? Okay. So. Where did the king put his armies?”

“Where?”

“In his sleevies!”

For a moment, a blissful quiet reigns over the room before Mason’s loud groan breaks it as it seems to reverberate off the walls of the detective’s tiny office and Adam finds himself inclined to agree. What a ridiculous attempt at humour. There is no need at all for Felix’s loud guffaws nor for Nate’s poorly disguised chuckles and Adam once again fights the urge to sigh. (Unfathomably, he also has to fight the slight upward tug of his lips, though this isn’t something he would ever admit.)

“Oh, detective, that was great!” Felix manages in between huffs of laughter. “Please tell me you have more.”

“Well!” The audible excitement in the human’s voice makes something flutter in Adam’s chest (annoyance, he tells himself) and he finally speaks up.

“I doubt the killer will find your jokes as funny, detective.”

The effect of his words is instantaneous as the detective snaps her mouth shut and shifts around to meet his eyes. And while he’s fully aware many are intimidated by his gaze, the detective seems to meet it with no hesitation whatsoever, much like she’d done during their first meeting a few days ago. How… bizarre.

“At the pace we’re going, I’m pretty sure I’ll actually die of old age before we find them so I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” she quips and Adam isn’t sure if he’s more annoyed by her blatant lack of concern for her own well-being or by how frighteningly accurate her joke is, considering humans’ fragile lives.

“Then perhaps you ought to focus your efforts on your job instead of making jokes.”

“Perhaps I can multitask. It’s a useful skill, you should look into it.”

Adam frowns at her, already frustrated with her witticisms, and can’t help but reflect on how such a tiny human can make him feel this strongly by doing so little. Such a train of thought is dangerous, however, and he quickly forces it away.

“Maybe now would be a good time to take a break,” Nate steps in, arms raised placatingly as he smiles at the human. “Are you hungry, detective? Perhaps we could grab lunch together.”

It takes a moment for her gaze to finally move away from Adam but eventually it does and he sees some of the tension leave her body with the action. Irrationally, he wonders if he awakens any such strong feelings in her as well.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” She shakes her head as if shaking him off and for some reason, the thought brings another frown to his face -- but then the human beams up at Nate and Adam can’t find it in himself to maintain it. “I could definitely eat! Man, come to think of it I’m starving, actually.”

“I wanna come too,” Felix chimes in immediately, a familiar grin in place. “I promise to appreciate your jokes more than Adam does, detective.”

The human lets out a loud laugh at that, a truly horrifying abomination of a sound somewhere between a snort and a cackle, but somehow, it still makes Adam’s chest feel lighter. Felix’s amber eyes dart to him, much too perceptive and knowing, and he makes sure to wipe his face clear of any emotion.

“Then again, maybe Adam appreciates your jokes more than we realise,” Felix says and the detective’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Once again, Nate is quick to step in.

“Mason? Adam? Would you two like to join us?”

The question is purely for appearances’ sake, of course; they don’t require human food and, in Mason’s case, they’re better off without it. Thankfully, though, his general attitude means the detective needs no further explanation as he just huffs a “Hell no,” through a puff of smoke.

Then the detective’s eyes shift to Adam once again, only this time he makes sure to avoid them, instead turning to address Nate. “I would prefer to keep working, but you three go ahead. And make sure to keep an eye out.”

Nate and Felix understand his message and give subtle nods before heading out with the detective who Adam can still hear complain about his ‘stuck-up self’ even as she disappears out of sight.

He lets out a quiet sigh that he would vehemently deny is relief.

“What’s got you so worked up about her?” Mason asks casually, unaware of the severity of his question, and Adam stiffens.

“I assure you, I am in no way ‘worked up’ over the detective.” He doesn’t intend to add anything else, but the words spill out before he can help it. “I merely find her… confusing.”

Mason arches a brow but says nothing and Adam is grateful.

--

“We’ll catch him. He won’t get the chance to hurt you.”

He stares into Catherine’s eyes, so familiar and yet so strange all the same. They crinkle as she grins up at him, breaking some of the tension between them.

“With Unit Bravo on the case, how can I doubt it?”

“You would make light of this?”

She shrugs and the gesture draws his gaze to the tiny droplets of water on her bare shoulders for a brief moment before he forces himself to look away. “Well, I didn’t want the moment to be completely dour. You’ve got to lighten it up sometimes.”

And that is something he has come to learn about Catherine in the short time they’ve been together -- she’s got this… light about her, something about her very presence that draws him in like a moth to a flame, and by god, does that scare him.

“I’ve enjoyed learning your quirks,” he says without thinking. Then he follows that draw and lets himself lean closer to her, only for a moment. It dawns on him, just then, that fear or not, he would not have it any other way. He doesn’t have the strength to resist this new feeling, conflicting as it might be, and the thought that Murphy might take it away from him… It’s unbearable. “I won’t let Murphy destroy who you are.”

It’s a promise he fully intends to keep, as much for her sake as for his.

--

dawn: to begin to be perceived or understood