#arnott

I straighten my tie, wiggling it to loosen its hold around my neck as I step out into the night, Steve following nervously, clicking his pen in time with our footsteps.

It only takes a few minutes of this for me to lose patience. "What's wrong, mate?"

"Nothing," he says.

Click. Click. Click.

This time I turn around to face him. "Steve, I know when something's bothering you. Besides, that clicking is doing my head in."

"Sorry, Kate."

"Well? Something wrong?"

"I'm fine," he says roughly. Something in his voice makes me think of a stubborn kid, and I smile. "Just-"

"Yes?" I attempt to urge him on, but he only falls silent. I spoke too soon. "Is it about Sam?"

He sighs and turns his head so that I can see his jawline shining bright red and yellow under the neon lights of the city. This beard looks good on him, I think to myself, then quickly push the idea away.

"No. Listen, mate, you and I both know I'm not getting back with Sam. To be honest, I lost any feelings for her after we broke up the first time. I was pissed off, and that broke something between us."

Click. Click.

I rub my temple, trying to digest the new information, and try to keep myself from snatching the pen from his hand entirely.

"Come back to mine," I suggest. "I think you owe me some kind of explanation."

"Mine would be better. Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Whatever works best for you," I find myself saying. "Mind if I spend the night? Traffic's a bitch at this time of night."

He frowns. Click. Click. "All right. I'll fix up some blankets on the sofa or something, yeah?"

*

Steve fumbles with the key as we stand outside his apartment. "Sorry, this normally works first time," he mumbles. I put my hand over his to guide it in the lock, and I hear his breath hitch as I squeeze his hand in mine. The door swings open before I can think about it any further.

"Tea? Coffee? Something stronger? I've got a bottle of red in here somewhere," he says, his back seemingly deliberately turned from me as he fiddles about in the kitchen.

"I'm fine, mate."

His shoulders sag a little. I guess it's because he now has no excuse but to sit and talk to me. I watch, smiling gently, as he folds his jacket over the back of the sofa and begins to unbutton his waistcoat. He finally turns to me as he lays his waistcoat down and fiddles with the top button on his shirt. "Listen, Kate-"

"What happened between you and Sam last week?" I find that my hands are shaking, perhaps from the cold, and fold them between my drawn-up legs.

The detective sergeant catches my eye, but immediately averts his gaze. He swallows. "We- we almost-"

I hold up a hand to stop him. They almost had sex. Something in my stomach twists. There is a long pause. "Why didn't you?"

"I was having problems with my back," he says bluntly. I watch him bite his lower lip a little and notice the way the dim lighting reflects off his dark eyes.

"Steve." He doesn't say anything. "Steve, come here," I say and hold out my arms for a hug, tucking my legs back out. He falls gratefully into my embrace, his head resting gently on my shoulder. I can feel his breath on my ear, and I try to suppress the thrill that rushes through me at his touch.

"I didn't want to."

"What?" I pull back to take a look at his face, and he keeps his gaze away from mine. I can see tears in his eyes but neither of us acknowledge them.

He takes a deep breath. "I didn't want to sleep with Sam. I don't have feelings for her. It felt... wrong. A betrayal."

"A betrayal? Steve, are you with someone else?" My stomach sinks.

He chuckles sadly. "No."

I don't get it. "Who are you betraying? Steve, I just don't get why you would feel like that if you're not with someone."

Gently peeling himself away from me, he stands, wringing his hands. I watch as he begins to pace up and down the apartment. My heart swoops as he tilts his head up to the ceiling, exposing his beautiful neck and the perfect angle of his jawline. I've had these strange feelings for Steve for weeks, fragments of something stronger than what we had before, broken dreams and wanderings of my imagination, an ideal playing at the back of my mind always.

If only he felt the same. Sometimes I can almost convince myself that there's something more than friendship in the way he addresses me, hints of longing in the way he calls out his goodbyes from the office at night. But really, I know that he doesn't feel the same way I do.

"I don't know. I don't know. It's just- It felt so bloody wrong, kissing Sam like that, knowing I have my sights on someone else."

Someone else. I wonder who it could be, whether it's a waitress at his favourite bar or a close friend, or... me. It couldn't be. I have to stop imagining these things, because I have a responsibility as the DI, and...

But he looks so soft, so heartbroken, standing at the window. I get up and cross the rug to him. "Who?" He doesn't say anything. "You know I won't tell anyone, mate. Who is there to tell? Look, I get it. It's hard. Please," I fold his hand between mine, and then drop it hastily back to his side. "Talk to me."

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. I try not to focus on the shape of his lips or the intelligence behind his eyes, or the way he's staring at me like he hardly knows me at all. "I can't," he says finally.

Something inside me snaps. "You can't? Steve, we've caught criminals together, we've killed together, we're partners. Hate it or not, you're my best mate. Just talk to me. I hate seeing you like this!"

"Like what?" he says feebly.

I fight to keep the tears from my voice. "Heartbroken. Lost. Withdrawn! Do I need to go on?"

A single tear slides down his cheek.

"You're bloody stubborn, DS Arnott," I shout. There's nothing left but thin cord unwinding rapidly between us, silence roaring with secrets and anger and heartbreak. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because I'm in love with you!"

I stumble back. "What?"

Something changes in the air. He begins to sob. "I can request a transfer. I'm so sorry- I didn't think it would affect anything at work but now, I- I'm so sorry, Kate, I'm a twat. This is ridiculous-"

I silence him with a kiss. After a moment of stunned unresponsiveness, he presses into my with his whole body and we deepen the kiss. We make out like teenagers, sloppily and with little care for technicalities. His lips feel right locked on mine, and I run my fingers through his hair, marvelling at the passion, the strength, behind his movements. The butterflies in my stomach intensify, fluttering and dancing inside me, out of control.

"Steve," I say breathlessly. He pulls back and instead rests his forehead against mine.

"Kate." His voice is full of warmth. It sounds like home, and I want to close the distance between us but instead I satisfy myself staring into those beautiful, perfect eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Why?"

"Because- because I think I'm in love with you," he says simply.

I kiss him deeply. "I think I'm in love with you, too. Does that make it any better?"

And suddenly he's pushing me backwards and onto the sofa, kissing me again and again, pressing into me like he can't get enough. I brush my lips against his neck and he lets out a moan, but he gently takes my chin in his hand and guides my mouth back up to his. It feels crazy for this to be happening, to be kissing so hard and so desperately, to be in his arms. This is what I've dreamt of for so long and now it's a reality. I fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, undoing two before he freezes, and catches my eye. "Are you sure?' he asks.

I don't say anything, just pull the rest of the buttons free and tug the shirt from him, marvelling at how simply breath-taking he is topless.

It suddenly hits me how unreal this all is, and I start to giggle. His hand at my waist relaxes and he frowns down at me. "You alright?" he asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed." I laugh quietly and bury my face in his chest, pleased to hear that his heart is hammering just the same as mine is.

"I think it's best if we leave it there for tonight, Kate."

For tonight. ‘For tonight’ suggests that there are many more nights ahead of us. I like it. "At least stay with me," I say, running my hand over his back. "Keep me company through the night."

"You're so beautiful," he smiles. "Come with me." He takes my hand and leads me into his bedroom, furnished simply with a double bed, wardrobe and desk in the corner. I sit on the edge of the bed as he roots around in his wardrobe and shiver, longing for the weight of his body against mine.

"Here," he suggests as he surfaces, holding up a large, oversized t-shirt. "It's not going to be a perfect fit, but I'm quite small-"

It's funny seeing him so flustered. "It's perfect. Thanks." I pull it on over my shirt and manoeuvre it all so that my shirt and bra can be taken off without exposing my body. Steve is still my best friend, and I'm scared.

He doesn't bother to retreat into his bathroom to get changed, but I look away, only now hit with humility. Steve has been my partner at work for seven years and nothing like this has happened before. I slump back so that I'm lying on the bed, staring out at the ceiling.

Work is going to be more awkward than ever.

"I usually just sleep in my pants," he says sheepishly. "I don't have anything else."

"Shit," I laugh. "It's fine, I don't mind sleeping on the sofa."

Instead, he comes and lays beside me on the bed, just in a pair of black boxers and a t-shirt. It takes so much for me to resist the urge to kiss him again, which feels stupid.

"Are you okay with this?" he whispers. My heart hammers in my chest.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Thanks, mate," I say, and kiss him again. He pulls me closer to him so that our bodies are almost touching, but doesn't demand any more, so we just lay there kissing for a while, our hearts racing and our hands entwined between us, the only thing keeping us apart. "I love you."

"This took far too long." He buries his cheek in my shoulder.

"I know," I tell him. "I know."

*

“All right?”

“All right.” The dim light of the subway reflects on Steve's dark eyes as he dips his head, rooting around in the pocket of his slightly too-large coat for his black notebook.

“This is weird,” I say, and laugh shallowly. He’s still avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know what to do,” he mutters. “About us.”

“We don’t need to do anything.”

“Kate, you’re my boss.”

I laugh again. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was your friend long before I was your boss. And there’s only two months between us. We can keep it under the radar for a bit, though, if you want.”

There’s a moment of silence between us. He hangs his head, but not before I see a small smile on his lips. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Sorry about last night. We moved too fast, I shouldn’t have stayed the night, that was stupid. Let’s go slow from now on.”

Steve barks out a short laugh. “I love you, Kate. It was fine. I’m just so overwhelmed, and I can’t seem to process the idea of us being more than friends, even though I want that.” He pauses. “Can I kiss you?”

I nod, and he steps closer. I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him back, gently and without the desperation of last night; it feels nice, this way. “We were scared, then. That’s all. Now we can go slow,” I reassure him.

“You’re so great,” he laughs. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Make it quick though, we’ve got to go back to catching bent coppers at some point.”

“Okay, um. Can I call you my girlfriend? Now I know that makes it sound like we’re stupid teenagers again and all. But saying that DI Kate Fleming is my girlfriend sounds- sounds great. We can still keep it quiet, though. I don't want to risk anything-”

“Yeah. Of course.” I grin.

“Now- back to bent coppers.”

"Back to bent coppers."

-alexis (i actually don't ship these two, but certain things must be compromised for the sake of fanfiction)