With the purification of his crystal, it’s been easier to go without it, easier to just enjoy the beneficial effects of the detective’s company, Karthik’s impossible ability to ease the burden of his heightened senses, tame the neverending roar of their everyday into a dull murmur.

Something to do with the blood, Mason thinks, his eyes flicking away and down, down the golden slope of the other man’s neck, until he can see the flutter of his pulse. The curl of his dark hair threatens to obscure it, but Mason doesn’t need his enhanced senses to hear Karthik’s heartbeat, to track his movements from across the room.

From across the goddamn compound some days, and it’d piss him off more, if it wasn’t such a relief.

He blinks at the thought, before his lip curls again. Fuck, he needs a smoke.

“Kids don’t like me,” is what he says in response, as the other man was still waiting. Watching him, the chocolate of his iris deep enough to swallow the edges of his pupil, patient and so fucking unreadable. He lets out a scoff. “Meera didn’t, anyway.”

That seems to break Karthik out of whatever funk he was in, his brow furrowing, a frown twisting his lips. “What makes you say that?”

Mason glances back up to catch his gaze again, giving him a flat look. “I have a pretty good read on people. She wouldn’t make eye contact, wouldn’t cross the room, and flinched whenever I made a move. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

Karthik’s frown deepens, before he glances away, breaking eye contact. He shifts on his feet, and his demeanour changes, his scent changes. Anxiety, worry. For his kid?

Shit.

“I didn’t mean to scare her,” He says, and means it. He doesn’t know why he needs Karthik to know that, to believe it, but he does. Mason really hadn’t tried anything with the kid. He’d just walked into the room, and that had been it. Kids really didn’t like him. “I’ll keep my distance in future, I promise.”

“No, it’s- it’s not that.” Karthik takes a breath, slow and steadying, shifting against the counter top. He’s got the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing the broad line of his forearms and the dark lines of hair that cross it, the muscles flexing under his grip. “She’s not - scared of you. She’s just - not good at things like that. Meeting new people.”

Mason releases a soft snort. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me, handsome”

Karthik’s dark eyes rise to meet his. “I’m not. She’s - a lot like you, actually. The whole world, it’s - it’s hard on her. Everything is just, too much, all at once.” He pauses again, thinking for a long moment. “It could help her, actually, talking to you.”

Help her? Talking to him? He wants to scoff again, but Karthik’s eyes on his are wide and honest, his belief in the statement clear in his gaze. Mason bites his lip, before blurting in disbelief, “You mean that.”

“I do.” The unease in Karthik’s posture has faded, a smile tugging at his lips. “And I think if you two tried again, you’d get along really well.”

Mason thinks on that for a long moment. Karthik wouldn’t have offered it if he wasn’t serious. There wasn’t a dishonest bone in his body, the man wearing his heart on his sleeve, as much as it frustrated Mason sometimes to see it.

There wasn’t a subtle bone there either, Karthik’s eyes on him bright and hopeful, almost expectant, and shit.

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

Karthik’s smile widens until his eyes crease with it, and he nods, the movement sending the dark strands of his hair dancing across his forehead. “It does.”

And of course it would. This was his kid. Nothing meant more to this man than his Meera. It had been her name he’d whispered in Mason’s arms after Murphy’s attack, his blood staining the dirty floor of the warehouse they’d found in him, his strength failing, his dark eyes wide and desperate and focused on Mason. Tell her I love her. That I will always love her. And - keep her safe.

Christ, Mason was going to do this, wasn’t he?

Mason lets out a low groan, and Karthik - healthy and whole and beautiful - knows he’s won, his grin widening until his dimples are visible, crinkling his cheeks, and god dammit.

“Alright, fine. We’ll try it.” Karthik lets out a sound that could almost be a whoop, and Mason tilts his head back, letting out a louder, more exasperated groan. “No promises that this will work, though. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Karthik laughs, shifting forward to close the distance between them, finally, his palm wide and warm and so right as he cups the side of Mason’s neck, before leaning in to kiss him.

The kiss is chaste, sweet. Karthik’s lips are soft and warm, and all Mason feels is the heat of it, the intimacy of having him so close, his breath a soft rush against his face as Karthik draws back and runs the worn pad of his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

“Thank you, sunshine.”

Mason scoffs at the nickname, or at least he tries to, but he’s smiling, he can feel the tug of it at the corners of his mouth, despite himself. “You’ll have to make it up to me, handsome.”

first theory. the pheromones affect M much the same way they affect the detective. physical pain, as if their head is splitting open, when their pheromones surge - something that they cannot control, although the effects can be tempered by the use of the crystal.

but not stopped from happening completely.

second. the crystal is a fallible method that may not work forever. and M is afraid of that. They’re fiercely protective of the crystal, reluctant to hand it over to someone new - and this is not just because of the pain relief it can provide, but because it is literally the only thing stopping them from destroying themselves and everyone around them

so really, what does that leave them with? A past so painful they asked for the Agency to remove their memories, and an uncertain future based on what happened to them when they were turned?