Once every door had closed, specks of dust floated through the stale air and the beeping of the systems echoed in rhythm. Everyone was gone, except you.

The hum of the vending machine buzzed louder than your own thoughts. You couldn’t stop thinking about the bloodied corpses, their lifeless eyes staring straight at you. It was haunting, to say the least. But it was nothing compared to the images of him pounding into you, his warm breath against your ear, whispering how good those pants made you look.

As soon as it started, you knew you wouldn’t be able to think or work anymore.

“Shit,” you eventually whispered to yourself, pushing the printed pictures aside.

It was the fifth night you spent at the office, while everyone else had gone back to their families, back to their lives.

He’d said he’d see you again today, but the hours slipped by, and no one knocked at your door. At first, you figured he might’ve gone to see his daughter. That was the only personal detail he’d ever been clear about. But he would’ve told you.

Deep down, you knew he wouldn’t leave you waiting like that all night. It was never really about self-defense when you stepped outside the building. He just liked making sure you got to your car each time, hair tousled, eyes still glazed from the last wave of adrenaline.

You didn’t call. That was the rule. Just a quick fuck between two lonely souls at night, and that was it.

So when the case you were working stalled and the clock flashed 2:40 a.m., you didn’t hesitate. You stared faraway, disappearing beyond the dark as the ringing went on and on. You called him four times.

The next step was to find him. Make sure he hadn’t been left bleeding out somewhere, another corpse tied to your case. A few minutes later, his location pinged on your screen. Walker. His picture. He was at a warehouse, the same one he told you he’d killed that guy in a week ago. What the fuck was he doing back there?

The drive was fucking endless. Red lights glared over the near-empty streets as you blew through a couple of stops, your grip on the wheel white-knuckled. As soon as the warehouse came into view, tall and haunting, you swung the car to the right and parked there, on the curb.

The door slammed shut behind you, the sound sharp in the stillness.

No sign of his car.

A new cool-headedness chased you through the building. It pushed you through closed doors and down empty corridors, but promptly disappeared when you burst upstairs, pointing the gun forward in protection—just in case someone was still there.

“Walker?”

His voice finally reached you. He didn’t sound upset or scared. Just fucking tired and worn out. Typical.

You pushed a door open and there he was. Slumped in a busted office chair, his wrists strapped behind him with zip ties. Your pulse fastened at the sight of blood at his temple, but he looked okay. The moon lit him from behind, casting his features in shadow and silver.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You lowered your gun, your voice way too high.

That only made him groan, though he looked as relieved to find you. “What the fuck you think I’m doin’?”

Breathing out the tension, you crossed the room to untie him. There was something so hot about him like that, all bloodied and defiant.

“You should’ve called—”

“Called how, huh?”

Another sigh slipped from your lips. You stayed behind him, standing while he stared straight ahead.

“Who was there?”

“Can’t tell you,” he said, as always.

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it, eyes dropping to his hands where his fingers twitched against the tension of the zip ties.

“I was waiting for you,” you said.

Finally, he glanced over his shoulder. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Believe me or not, but I was waitin’ for you, too. Or at least someone.”

“Not for me to come fuck you, though.”

He held your haze, shifting his hands only to let them fall again. “No. For you to come and untie me. My wrists are fuckin‘ burnin’.”

You bit back a grin, equal parts amused and turned on. “You don’t know how much I love seeing you like this, though.”

“I’m not fuckin’ kiddin’. Untie me.”

You didn’t. You kissed the sensitive skin of his neck, marking a line up to his ear. Your nerves already pricked with each feather-light touch, and so did his. Whispering in his ear only made it better.

“Makes me want to suck you off.”

In this position, he was rendered completely immobile. At your mercy. That big guy who always took matters into his own hands, looking up at you like he was close to begging. After another kiss on his neck, Walker inhaled deeply.

You circled back to face him, unzipping the vest of your uniform and letting it fall on the floor. “You know what? I’ll fuck you here, and then I’ll leave again.”

At that, you could practically feel his hot, unbridled anger steaming off his body. Walker frowned up at you, swallowing hard.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

You only grinned more, impulsively straddling his thighs like they were yours to sit on. You pressed your lips to his, not quite kissing yet. “Shut up. That’s not what your mouth is meant for.”

Before he could think of anything, your tongue parted his and your whole body pushing against his. The place between your legs pulsed for a heavy force, already knowing what came after midnight. Walker remained stoic, almost unreadable, but the corner of his lip betrayed him, rising in a fraction of a smile.

You dragged your thumb across his lower lip, watching the way it dipped under the pressure. Smooth, warm, betraying how badly he wanted to use it. In response, he leaned over to catch your mouth again, hot and hungry. Turning him on was the easiest thing ever—but maybe that was just you. He’d told you just how much your voice turned him on the night before.

Releasing him, your hand trailed down his stomach, groping his quickly hardening cock through his black pants.

“You can’t even help yourself.” You smoothed your palm up and down over his covered shaft. “You knew I’d come find you.”

Walker breathed deep into his nose, his voice gravelly as he ignored your imply. “C’mon. Get down on your knees.”

“You’re not in command.”

Walker gave a hoarse laugh, but it caught in his throat when you rolled your hips against his. He was rock-hard, pressed up under the fabric like his body didn’t care how broken he felt. You kissed his bloodied eyebrow softly, more softly than the way you were panting.

“You think you’re gonna make me beg?” he rasped.

You leaned in, teeth grazing his ear. “No. I think you’re already begging.”

You dragged his zipper down and his cock sprang out. Thick, veiny and so fucking enticing. Wanting. His jaw clenched and his thick thighs tensed.

His eyes were hooded as they dipped down and then back up, finding you even more aroused than before. It wasn’t even that hot in that part of the building, but your cheeks were already flushed, burning. Just like his.

Circling your hand at the base, you gave his cock a long tug. The other slid to the back of his head, holding him close.

“I saw you look at me this morning. When you were talking to her.”

Walker growled and thrust himself against your hand involuntarily, seeking more contact. His eyes were full of questions for a second, and he got it.

Ellie. His partner. He’d done a double glance, spotting you sipping at your coffee silently in a corner. The young rookie had tried chatting with you, but once your gaze met Walker’s, you’d left without a word. It wasn’t really fair that he only talked to you behind closed doors.

“Yeah?” His eye twitched. “Makes you jealous when I talk to her?”

“Does she turn you on?”

“Fuck you.” He gave you a sharp look, ten times harder than your grip. Yet, his whole body reacted to your gaze, thrumming in pure fucking want. “You wanted me to shout at your face like I did at her, um?”

You didn’t have to respond. Your mouths fused together, heads tilting and nose bumping. You could feel he was two seconds from ripping his wrists out of the zip tie so he could get inside you. But before he could proceed, you pulled away and dropped to your knees, laving your tongue up his shaft before swallowing as much as you could fit him down your throat. Yes. You would’ve shamelessly liked it if he shouted at you the way he had at her.

He cursed under his breath, struggling to get free. You also felt his self-restraint fray under the tremble of his thighs, wordlessly begging you not to stop.

Walker watched as he sank into your mouth again, angling himself toward your willing lips. “Fuckin’ hell. You’re askin’ for it,” he muttered, jaw tight. “I can’t believe this.”

Looking up at him, you nodded, you plump, wet mouth riding up and down his erection. What was the point of lying? He’d been on your mind ever since the first night he’d stepped into your office, just to make sure you were okay. He cared. He liked making sure you weren’t alone.

“Good girl,” he moaned, observing you and the way your lips left a tinge of red lipstick on his skin. “You’re so good.”

Your eyes teased him from below, that pink tongue dancing up the side of his length in a featherlight lick before you wrapped him in a fist and went lower to draw one of his balls into your mouth. And you took his cock back between your lips, a long moan of pleasure wrapping around him.

“Stand up,” he ordered raggedly. “Can’t take any more. Stand up.”

No sooner had you swayed to your feet did your pants go down your legs, drawing his heavy gaze. Those few times had been enough for him to spot every mole on your legs, every line. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose added to that pretty picture. If he wasn’t already drowning in a mess with the mother of his child, you might’ve asked him to let you do this every single night.

You stood there, in nothing but your shirt and black panties, breathing hard, trying not to look like your heart was caving in.

“You’ll be the one tied up next time. You’ll see how fucking cruel that is.”

“Cruel?” you echoed, a mischevious giggle escaping you as you straddled him again. “You’re hard as a rock. Doesn’t seem like you mind all that much.”

Walker’s jaw clenched. His arms flexed behind him, bound and useless. “Let me touch you.”

“No. You’re gonna sit there and take it, Walker.”

His head fell back against the chair, a curse torn from his throat.

“Let me feel you, then.” His voice cracked on it. “I’m losing my fuckin’ mind.”

You rolled your hips once, dragging your wetness over him. Only then did you shove your panties aside and lower yourself onto him, slowly, letting every inch of him fill you while his whole body strained not to thrust up into you. Then, you went down on him hard. No matter how tough you tried to be, your head fell forward. The sight of him staring up at you was so hot you could barely stand it—choking out on your words, like you’d been dying for it until then. The peak of relief, of pleasure. Walker ground his teeth at the vice-like grip of your cunt, the way it felt like a desperate tug every time you slammed down to his base.

Your chest opened up with a symphony of moans, unable to keep any of it to yourself. He was the only man capable of making you fall apart in such a short time.

"That's it,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”

"Walker… fuck. I waited—I waited for you.”

"Mmm? Feels good?"

"Always."

Your hands raked through his hair, tugging just a little, and it was enough to send ecstasy searing through his nerve ends, his hips snapping up to meet yours more rapidly. You threw your head back in a moan, and he knew you were letting him set the pace.

“Thought you were in command, huh?” he rasped, eyes locked on the curve of your throat as you arched for him. “Look at me. You wanted this. You came for it.”

“I’m using you, ain’t I?” you whispered, breath catching as you rode him deeper, slower.

“Stop that.”

You barely had time to register it before his hips jerked up into you again, raw and relentless, like he needed to drown out every thought between you.

“You gonna come for me now?” he ground out, the hunger in him boiling over. “While I’m still tied up like this?”

The idea made your thighs quake, your body clench tighter around him. His cock throbbed deep inside you as you rode him harder, rougher, chasing that edge like it would kill you if you didn’t get there fast enough. Even without his hands, he felt so fucking strong.

His breath grew ragged beneath you, his arms straining against the restraints. So close, like you were. But it was his eyes, dark and unguarded, that finally made you tip over.

“Fuck,” was the last thing you ground out before your body shuddered violently against his. The orgasm ripped through you, stealing every word from your throat. You clung to his shoulders like you’d collapse otherwise, your moans a broken mess in his ear.

Those sounds of yours were enough to make his hips stutter, fucking you with long, lethargic strokes before his own orgasm wreaked through him.

As you both caught your breaths, silent despite all the dirty words that just came out of your mouths, he carefully but casually pressed a kiss on your neck. Almost like an affectionate thank you.

With his gaze burning into you, you rose on unsteady legs and pulled your pants back on like you’d just closed a business deal. Only your sticky thighs and trembling fingers betrayed you.

The sound of the zipper sliced through the quiet, and your shoes followed next.

“Goin’ somewhere?” he asked, voice tight.

You looked up. “I’m gonna get the knife from my car.”

He cocked a brow, which made your lips twitch.

Omg im. Posting a full piece of art again?!?!!! And i tried sum with the game mechanics! I did some research and i got to the conclussion that... Blakc locks fitted Kimi just perfectly. And they wont be easy to break.

Not only was there a gift basket, but a decently large paper bag sitting on your desk that had seemingly already been ripped open. Great. Someone already contaminated the crime scene. As you peeked over the cellophane wrapping of the obscenely large basket, you were greeted by a certain detective, leaning back in your rolling chair, feet kicked up on the desk, to-go container and fork in hand.

“Hey, Decky! About time you came in. Your pasta was getting cold, so I thought I’d help you out with it. There’s so much here!”

Your brows furrowed as you observed detective Lang slurping down a bite of carbonara, the container already half gone.

“What the hell, Scott? What is going on?”

Scott shrugged and used his fork to swirl up another bite. “What? Not like you were gonna finish all of that pasta in one go. Figured I’d take some off your hands.”

“Wha-“ you stood there, flabbergasted, mouth opening and closing while you contemplated your next words. You grabbed the receipt on the paper bag to see the contents listed, with ‘SR’ written in red sharpie at the bottom. It looked like it was all your favorites from Steve’s restaurant, plus some new items.

Your confusion increased as you pushed Scott’s feet off your desk and scooted over to read the card on the gift basket.

“Sorry our night got a little interrupted. Buck appreciates the kindness, though. Feel free take it all out on me. I’ve got a knock-out time planned for us. -SR”

There was an address on the back and an additional note for you to meet him there after your Thursday shift. And to… wear athletic clothes? What?

An amused smile began to creep onto your lips before the realization came crashing down and you whipped around. “Hold on a second, what the fuck, Scott!? You’re eating my gift!! Not to mention something that a civilian dropped off at a police precinct. That could have been poisoned!”

Scott laughed as he set down his fork in the container. “Nah, I knew it at least wasn’t poisoned. One of Steve’s guys dropped it off.”

You grabbed the lid off your desk and placed it on Scott’s pasta container before ripping it from his hands. “Hey! I wasn’t done yet!”

He leaned forward to grab it back out of your hands before you whisked it away again. “Ah ah, no. Answer my questions first and then you can have my pasta back.”

Scott sighed exasperatedly, his shoulders slumping forward. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know? That’s really good carbonara and I want it back ASAP.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why it was sent to me. Now, tell me how you know one of Steve’s guys dropped it off… and what do you mean by ‘Steve’s guys?’”

Scott shrugged again. Some detective he was. “I don’t know. I was at my desk when I saw it all get delivered. You know how Steve is. He’s got those delivery boys that help him out. Sure, I consider him a pal but I don’t ask too many questions about that. I understand he’s a busy guy. You’re just lucky I commandeered the area before Walker caught a whiff. That’s literally all I know. Now it’s time for you to answer my question.”

You rolled your eyes and begrudgingly handed him back the container. “Okay fine. You’re lucky I like you way better than that street rat, Walker. You get one question. One.”

Scott smirked at you as he popped off the lid and threw it back over your desk calendar. “Now I know Steve and I are well acquainted, but what’s he doing sending you things? You do him a special favor or something?”

You sighed and crossed your arms and legs, leaning back and squinting at your closest work friend. “First of all, that was two questions. And second of all, no. You know I’m not in the habit of sharing confidential information. If you must know, Steve and I are…friends. And we hung out, like once…or twice, but there was kind of a wrench thrown in the second one. I think this is his way of making it up to me.”

His grin grew toothy. “Yeah, okay. ‘Friends.’” He put up his hand that wasn’t holding food in air quotes. “Whatever you say, bud. Steve and I have been friends for half a decade, but you don’t see me getting gift baskets and lunch deliveries.”

You shook your head as you spun his chair around and nudged it forward for him to get out. “Well, I wouldn’t complain if I were you, bud, because you’ve evidently benefitted from the gift nonetheless. Don’t you have crimes to solve?”

Scott hopped out of the chair with a startle at your aggressive push. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Enjoy your little present from your boy. I’ll be back later to talk to you about those tests you ran last last week I asked for. And for some snacks.” He winked before running off, ducking to scarf down the rest of his meal.

You sighed before plopping down into your seat and hiding behind the basket and your computer monitor, trying to keep your excitement under wraps. You untied the ribbon at the top of the present and pulled down the rustling covering to finally take a look at everything inside. The contents were…broad… to say the least.

On top were some scrunchies, the exact ones you loved to use to pull your hair back in the lab, actually. And under that were duplicates of all the snacks Steve had brought over to your place the previous weekend that you still had in abundance.

Your cabinets were going to be endlessly stocked at this rate. In there, too, you found an adorable teddy bear dressed up in a suit. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was supposed to look like someone who was growing all too familiar. But next to it was also a stuffed hedgehog and otter wearing the same? He must’ve seen your one hedgehog flower pot on the mantle and assumed it was your favorite. Now the otter, that was an interesting choice, although not unfounded. Maybe he knew you were a card carrying member of the zoo and aquarium.

Speaking of flower pots, though, as you dug to the bottom to see an assortment of candles, your perusing of the varieties of scents was cut short by another delivery.

Two men came in holding flower pots and vases. From what you could make out, there was a small cactus and a fern, and a large arrangement that seemed to hold one of every single type and color of flower under the sun being carried by the first man. You peered over the contents of your desk to see Detective Lang nodding at you. Great, this was drawing attention.

The second delivery boy came with a huge vase full of red roses, to which Scott shrugged and shook his head, pointing and mouthing, “that one’s not one of Steve’s guys,” to you.

Before you could get up to even look at the cards to the flowers, a manifestation of the unwanted attention you had garnered was sauntering over to your desk in the form of Detective John Walker. Literally the worst guy here. The only reason he was a detective was because he was so focused on pleasing the dude bros of superior management, but God forbid he take advice from you or any female officer on the force.

Before you could stop him, he reached out and grabbed the card out of the roses. “Got a secret admirer, Decky?”

You rolled your eyes, tempted to slap his hand and keep him away from your stuff. “Don’t call me that. Only friends call me that.”

He laughed as he read the small piece of card stock he fiddled with between his fingers. “What about Lucas Bell? Seems like he’s a friend, and maybe more than that for sending you a bouquet like this.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Lucas? You searched through the other arrangements to see if there was another card, which you found in the colorful, less aggressive bouquet. SR. Somehow the both of them had sent you flowers on the same day? What was Lucas doing sending you flowers? You literally never talked to him. You made sure of that as much as possible. It was so odd.

From what you could gather, Steve had sent you the gorgeous flowers, along with the potted plants, and a single wooden yellow rose you hadn’t noticed before. Sure, it was… a lot, but it was tasteful, and something about it made you warm. Poor thing really just sent one of everything possible, but it was the kindest gesture that had happened for you in a long time. If this was the apology you got for something as simple as an interruption from Bucky on something you weren’t even sure was a date, then there’s no telling what else Steve could possibly have up his sleeve. His ridiculous, designer sleeve.

In a strong juxtaposition, though, looking at the bouquet from Lucas almost made you sick to your stomach. Such a forward flower to send out of the blue to someone who you almost never talk to. You knew you couldn’t call and complain to your mom about this, either, because she’d say something about him being so sweet and famous. Like those were good markers in a partner: fake television demeanor qualities.

Walker set down the card again and began to rifle through the contents of your gift basket. “Man, looks like Lucas really wants you to go on a date with him. Sent you all these sweets and said so in the card. Mind if I steal some?”

This time you did smack John’s hand, giving him a scowl. “This isn’t all from Lucas. Only those stupid roses over there are. And no, you can’t have anything. This is my stuff. God, for being a detective you’re terrible at reading the room. Now leave.”

Walker raised his hands in compliance and walked away. “Damn, okay. Don’t think it’s fair Lang gets pasta and I get hit, but whatever. Enjoy your love letters.”

You rolled your eyes before going over to the other side of the desk and reading the card from the roses. As much as you hated it, Walker was right. Lucas was asking to meet up. Just for a nice walk along the river. Sure, that seemed like an enjoyable activity, but only with someone you knew well enough to hold conversation. And he was more of the type to talk at you than with you.

You took the vase of roses over to the break room, placing them on the center of the table and shoved the card in your desk drawer before sitting back down again at the space cleared of everything except for what Steve had sent. When you peered around, you were satisfied by the reduction in glares your way as you sniffed through the remaining candle scents and chose what pasta to eat while working through your shift. Only Detective Lang was witness to the dopey smile on your face.

By the time Thursday had come around, you had finished all of your pasta leftovers and burned through a candle and a half, thoroughly enjoying all Steve had left you, even though you could tell some of the items were him throwing darts at a wall and hoping one would hit just right. But the thing was, just about everything in that basket was a straight bullseye.

You parked your car and got out on the busy street, dressed in a pantsuit from having to stand witness in a trial earlier. You were in the middle of a city block with shop windows recessed into the ground, standing at the top of a staircase, preparing to head down with a bag containing your athletic clothes in hand. You tightened the hair held up with your new scrunchie and took a deep breath. It looked like an old gym. Not quite what you expected, so you pulled out your phone to double check you got the right place. In your state of minor distraction, you just barely clocked the sound of shouting and pounding footsteps coming from your side. But by the time you looked up to see a man sprinting towards you, it was too late. He shoved you out of his way, down into a puddle. You were barely able to sit up enough to see someone else chasing him, far behind and much slower. You squinted as the form changed from a jog to a walk and came into focus. Walker. He threw his arms up in exasperation when he saw it was you.

“Way to fucking go, Decks. You let my perp get away!”

You stood up out of the stagnant water, brushing yourself off ineffectively as it had already soaked into the material. Luckily, you were going to be changing soon anyway, but after that and everything else, today was not the day for Walker to get all high and mighty with you.

“Walker, that’s not my job. How was I supposed to know that was your perp? Or a perp at all?”

He rolled his eyes and threw his hands to his hips, looking at your bag that still was thrown to the side on the ground, not making an effort to pick it up. “Who else would be running in a city? Obviously someone guilty!”

You bent down to grab the dusty duffle and slung it over your shoulder, cocking your head to your side. Your voice was becoming sharper, meaner. “People run in the city all the time, but that’s besides the point. How am I supposed to ID any of your perps if you refuse to tell anyone about your cases or let them help you until it’s too late? The reason that guy got away is your fault because I wasn’t properly informed. Maybe if you weren’t so wrongfully prideful and said where you were going or who you were going after before you left, you could’ve had backup. From someone actually on shift.”

Walker groaned and straightened his arm out past your shoulder, gesturing towards the direction where the man ran. “I was assuming you would take on that responsibility and be able to see the man very evidently running away from me, but no, you were stupid. Just like how you were about Lucas Bell. Maybe if you were smart, you would’ve taken him up on that date. Yeah, I saw how you discarded those roses. But just like the way you shove off your work, you shoved him off.”

You scoffed. Your annoyance made it so you couldn’t hear a jingle of a bell from the door down the steps behind you open while John was yapping on and on. “What does that have to do with anything right now!? Walker, I don’t shove off work, and if I’m stupid, you’re a literal brick. I’ve told you time and time again, I’m working dozens of cases at a time to your one, so you can hop off my back. Plus, I’m not a detective, but by the fact that you are, I can’t believe you’d be so brainless.”

You watched as his boastfully broad shoulders began to slump into an almost cowering form, so you kept going. “And what’s up with your obsession with Lucas Bell? I see the way you throw yourself at him at every crime scene. Do you think he’s going to give you some sort of connection? You’re a cop. You should be the one with connections! Is it a crush? Go home. To. Your. Wife.”

You were heaving breaths after your rant as you felt a presence loom over your shoulder. You turned to see what it was, only to be met by a familiar chest, upon which sat a head of messy blond hair, connected by a pair of shoulders that were begging to be let out of the confines of their white t-shirt and a thick neck somewhere in the middle. Steve.

He looked down and gave you a smile before shooting an intimidating gaze at Walker. “I believe you heard her. Go. Home.”

John simply nodded and turned to jog away in the direction from where he came, not daring to look back.

Your eyes stayed on Steve, but you didn’t share his smile, still frustrated with the situation. “I was handling that.”

He simply nodded, grabbing your bag off your shoulder and putting his hand on the small of your back to guide your down the stairs. “I could tell. You were doing a great job. Bullies need stood up to. I really don’t like them.”

You laughed dryly, walking through the door he held open for you. “Yeah, he’s pretty much as awful as it gets.”

You walked in to see the old gym, occupied mostly by a bunch of older guys using punching bags on the other side of a boxing ring, but otherwise empty. No one even spared the two of you a confused or judging glance. Steve gently directed you to the back of the room, handing your bag back and gesturing to a locker room. “You can go ahead and change in here. No one will bother you. And then come find me in the ring.”

He left you with a wink and a pat on the back.

Throwing endless punches was just what you needed after that whole altercation with Walker, and Steve was more than happy to oblige. He stood opposite you in the ring, giving small directions and corrections you were taking exceptionally well. After the initial rage wore off, the two of you stopped for water.

Steve handed you your bottle as he took a sip of his own. He had been relatively quiet so far, so you decided to ask him a question that was on your mind. “So why here? Why’d you want to go boxing?”

That wasn’t a question he was expecting, and it wasn’t one he wanted to truthfully answer. Sure, the two of you had hung out before, but this isn’t the usual destination of a date, much less a third date. If he was being honest, it was because he wanted to make sure you knew self defense. With your proximity to him and Bucky, it wasn’t out of the question that you might need those skills if the time came. When the time came, when he could finally bring himself to tell you about his job outside of the businesses you knew.

Instead, he just shrugged one shoulder, sliding the sparring mitts back on his hands. “Thought it might be a good release of pent up energy. Lang told me you had to sit for a court case today, figured you’d want to blow off some steam. And now that I see what other stuff you’ve got to deal with on a daily basis, I’m wondering why I haven’t asked you to join me every day. You need it after working with a douche like Walker. Although, I’m not sure if my poor hands could handle much more.”

He feigned a pout as you let out a breathy laugh, putting your gloves back on, as well, agreeing with his assessment. As the two of you stepped back into the center of the ring and started another round, albeit slower, Steve piped up. “Okay, my turn. What’s the deal with Lucas Bell? I heard you two talking about him. Did you guys mean the news reporter?”

You sighed, doing your best to keep a rhythm to your punches and ducking under Steve’s arm. “Uh, yeah. That’s the one. Lucas and I grew up together, so he contacts me every now and again. Sent flowers to my work the other day. Asked to take me for a date on the riverwalk, but I turned it down.”

Steve shuffled lightly on his feet, keeping you on your toes. He did his best to imbue his tone with genuine curiosity and nothing else. “Why’d you say no?”

You stopped in your tracks, but kept your arms up. “Well, do you think I should’ve said yes?”

Steve felt something in his gut at that. Of course he didn’t want you to have said yes, but he had no jurisdiction over that. And he still wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between the two of you. Whether or not you considered it friendship or something more like he had wanted it to be. “Well, I’m not in charge of you.”

You nodded and went back to throwing soft punches. “That’s right. But you should know, he’s historically not my favorite. He’s nice and all, I guess, but I honestly can’t stand him. Never been able to since we were kids. Everyone always thought it was nice that he would bring me flowers and stuff but it was just obsessive and weird to me. I never bought into his charms like all our neighbors expected me to. Anyway, I enjoy someone else’s company a little more.”

Steve hung on to the last part of your statement. Were you talking about him? He hoped so. But after getting caught up in the thought of that, he didn’t realize he had stopped moving until you gave him a punch on the shoulder.

Instead of flinching or being upset, though, he just shared your playful smirk at the dreamy look on his face and replied with a quip. “C’mon, Decky. You can hit harder than that. Where’s all that energy? I thought the pasta I sent you would have helped to carboload for today.”

You laughed and mixed it with a deep breath before going back in, harder. “Oh trust me, I could do this all day. And thanks for that gift by the way, it was really nice of you.”

Your eyes caught his sparkling blue ones for a second, sharing sincerity. “Any time. Honestly. You can go into any of my restaurants whenever you want and get anything you desire. On me. Just say your name and they’ll know.”

You shook your head free of his earnest gaze. “Steve, that’s no way to run a business. You can’t just give handouts to everyone.”

“They’re not for everyone. Just for you. Let me do this. That way you never have to worry about cooking for yourself on those hard days when you get home late. You can enjoy a carefree night out, or the celebration of a solved case. Let me at least do that for you.”

You finally relented, dropping your head to your chest before finally beginning to punch Steve’s hands as hard as you were at the beginning of the session. You next word came through clenched teeth, partially from his persistence and the smile you were trying to bite back at just how giving he was willing to be for you. “Fine.”

Steve smiled brightly at your new found energy and the acceptance of his offer. “Atta girl.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: we all know a Walker, but we all deserve to know a Steeb