#december3rd

Summary: Intelligence has been trying to set you up with Kevin for a while now. Their plan was to put mistletoe everywhere around the district. Little did they know you two were already together.

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x reader, Jay Halstead, Intelligence

Prompt: Christmas Prompt 3: “There’s seems to be some mistletoe above us” 

Request: Nope

Warning/s : Mentions of drugs

You and Kevin had drove to the district separately yet again because you weren’t public with your relationship yet. You had arrived before Kevin which was planned as he needed to go get gas. You walked up to the unit giving a smile to Sergeant Platt as you passed 

“Halstead why is there so much mistletoe?” All he did was shrug as Hailey and Adam walked out the breakroom

“He wants you and Kev to kiss” Adam whispered giving you your morning coffee. 

“Thanks partner” You smiled sitting down at your desk. Your case was nothing interesting because it was just paperwork until Hailey and Jay caught someone with drugs in their car after running a red light. You went to get a new cup of coffee just as Kev was coming out of the breakroom

“Hey that case we had last week the one about the drug runners was it you or Ruzek that arrested him?” Kev asked and you thought about it for a second 

“I tackled him and read him his rights while Ruz slapped the cuffs off him” 

“Thanks” You smiled before noticing everyone watching the both of you. You furrowed your brows before looking up and spotting the mistletoe.

“There seems to be some mistletoe above us” You whispered causing Kev to look up.

“Give them a show?” 

“Why not” You both leaned forward capturing each others lips before sharing a deep kiss. When you pulled back everyone was cheering and clapping. You blushed hiding your face in Kevin’s chest

Location: Costa Coffee, Muggle London Time: 3rd of December, afternoon Status: Closed, for @dearborncaradoc

Edgar was wearing his sunglasses. He’d found them at a flea market many years ago and was certain they had to date back to the Victorian Era. Small and round, they were more a form of accessory than they were actually shielding your eyes from the sun. Today he regretted it. The Muggle fashion of the time had come up with massively large glasses and while usually he found them a bit too ... blatant, and the light in this Costa wasn’t half as bright as it could be anyway, he wished he had a pair of them now.

He’d not slept a lot. However, he had been drinking a lot. At first, as most mornings, he hadn’t felt the effect of either, making his way back to the Potter Estate with no issues, apparating away from the back alley behind his apartment just fine, but the moment he had entered the kitchen, he was overcome by an insurmountable weight. On the first of December, he had kept watch here, had kept the minutes of their mission, had stared at the map and seen the teams struggle, incapable of helping without leaving his own duty. Two nights had passed since, but it was as though it was happening right now. The map was still at the head quarters, and when he opened it flat on the kitchen counter, seeing it mostly empty now, it was as though he was dragged back to sleep. Dragged into a dream where things could’ve gotten different, dragged into a state of immobility, dragged deep into thoughts.

He noticed certain names appearing and disappearing by the McKinnon Farm, others at the Estate, one even at Diagon Alley, but he didn’t ... notice it. Indeed like in a dream, he was confined to being a passive observer once again, and as hours and hours passed, no amount of tea-cravings or smoke-cravings could make him move. They had all made it out of it alive. That was what mattered. That was what kept this feeling in his throat from turning regret or panic. And yet. There was one particular event, when that one team had suddenly appeared on the Estate’s ground, and they didn’t move. They just ... stayed on the spot they had appeared on, and Edgar knew something had gone wrong, knew he needed to go check on them -- knew he couldn’t though, because there were others currently facing Death Eaters and their outcome was still in the open, their lives in more urgent need to be watched over. His fingers had pressed into the table, trying to move the unmovable. Just like now, he’d been frozen to the spot, staring at the map and begging, begging, begging, that the cluster of names could just please move. Just an inch. Just a breath.

Caradoc had appeared, then. Not three days ago, but today, on the third. He must’ve called him multiple times before his voice had seeped into Edgar’s mind, because when Edgar finally looked up, he seemed impatient. Was frowning. The map was stashed away again and he had been urged to his feet, urged out of the Estate, urged back to Muggle London, to their usual coffee shop where they discussed all things that shouldn’t be heard by other Wix or by the ears of the Estate’s walls.

Location: Edgar’s Apartment, Muggle China Town, London Time: The night to the 4th of December Status: Closed, for @a-glasshalfempty

Fabian’s head was bobbing as sleep and gravity worked together against the brief moments of consciousness when Fabian would then jerk his head back up again. His eyes would briefly fasten on the TV before falling close again, and the cycle began again. Edgar had long given up on focusing on the old Christmas special flickering on the screen as well, his gaze watching his friend’s fight with exhaustion. He was certain that on any other day, he would’ve laughed about this, or at least found amusement tickling in his chest. Tonight he was himself too tired to even really register what was happening before him, there, on the other side of the couch. His foot reached out to poke Fabian in the side. “Hey...”

Fabian had disappeared after their mission on the first of December. Edgar had not been fazed by this as Fabian tended to disappear out of view when he wanted to, and Edgar had been way too busy dealing with the aftermath of everything to make himself worry about his friend on top of that. The first night of December he had stayed at the Potter Estate, taking the minutes of all that had happened and all that was happening now, helping where he could -- mostly with conversations and patience, since Miss Vance had already taken care of most physical wounds. Perhaps, if he had stayed one more night, he would’ve heard of not just the heard of Mister MacKinnon’s state but also exactly what had caused it, but as it was, his mind was focused on the troubled minds around him. The next night he wanted to spend at home, spend in quiet, spend with a book, hoping to escape the endless loops of thoughts about successes and failures. But his anxiety consumed him easily, steadily, and he knew he’d have to find Amelia soon if he wanted to be of service again to the Order tomorrow. Right at the threshold between evening and night, though, just as he was slipping his keys into his coat to leave, someone knocked on the door.

The invitation to go out had meant to sound cheerful but Edgar would’ve needed to purposefully ignore the heaviness in Fabian’s expression to believe it. To believe the mirth. And because the outside world was too busy, too chaotic tonight, he had simply walked over to his cupboard and got out the cider and tequila instead. Had Fabian meant to talk to him about something, he veiled it well, and with each drink Edgar was more and more willing to let himself get distracted from the past few days. Weeks. Not having eaten that day and not being a particularly good drinker in the first place, the night quickly became a blur, the first clear thought he could grasp again being the one long after midnight, when the Christmas movie was on TV and Fabian was nodding away to the realms of sleep.