Olivia rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and sighed. The heavy tome she had taken from the library only served as a reminder of the very vampire she was currently trying to forget about. She had pulled it in the hopes of finding out more about the Anunnaki but was finding it too hard to focus. Slamming the book shut, she tossed it aside on the bed and fell backwards, landing on the pile of pillows that took up most of the available space. She stared at the ceiling hoping it held answers but found nothing.

Just then, a light knock sounded from her door. Olivia frowned at the rate in which her heart picked up; she wasn’t even sure it was Nate on the other side of the door. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see him. But when the knock sounded again, she knew she was lying to herself. She cleared her throat. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” a familiar voice sounded and her heart lurched. “May I come in?”

She sat up and checked her appearance in the camera of her phone, trying to tame her long mane of curls but giving up quickly. Nodding in satisfaction, she looked back to the door. “Come on in.”

The door opened, revealing a sheepish looking Nate holding a plate with several freshly made scones. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Can we talk?” he asked. He held up the plate. “I brought scones.”

She chuckled weakly. “Hoping to butter me up with food?”

He gave her a small smile and closed the door before making his way towards her. “No; but I am hoping it’ll help you feel better.” He placed the plate down in front of her on the bed. A small smile appeared on her lips and she patted the spot next to her on the bed; he accepted the invitation and sat down. 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several moments, both waiting for the other to speak first. Olivia moved the plate of scones aside on the bedside table then interlaced her fingers in front of her. She took a deep breath in anticipation to speak but Nate beat her to it. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. He tentatively reached for her hand and visibly relaxed when she didn’t pull away. He played with her fingers as he continued. “I shouldn’t have asked you to hide,” he said. “You’re a skilled fighter and you’ve proven on more than one occasion that you can hold your own in a fight.”

“Then why did you send me away?” she asked, failing to hide the hurt in her voice.

He sighed. “I was scared, Liv. We were thrown into a trap that caught us all off guard and I was scared of what would happen if we failed. If I failed… I couldn’t face the possibility that you could’ve gotten hurt or worse because of my failure to protect you.”

She turned to face him completely and squeezed his hand. “Nate, I understand that you were concerned for my safety. But did it ever occur to you that making me hide might have put me in a worse position than if I had fought with you? What if the Trappers had found my hiding spot and taken me away without your knowledge?” He blanched and she cupped his cheek with her free hand. “I’m not saying they would have succeeded; but it’s something to consider. I’m a good fighter, Nate; and I would choose to fight by your side a thousand times over rather than hide away, hoping for the best.”

He smiled weakly. “You’re right. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t capable of taking care of yourself.” He took a shaky breath and held her hand against his chest. “You just mean so much to me, Olivia. I couldn’t bear the thought if something happened to you. It’s unfortunate that, while I’m grateful you’re part of our world, you’ve also been thrust into extreme danger in the process.”

“It’s not like being a detective is exactly the safest of jobs, either.”

He bobbed his head from side to side. “A fair point.”

Olivia sighed and brushed her thumb against his cheek. “After we saved Sanja, I swore to myself that I would never choose to save anything or anyone else over you ever again. Please don’t put me in a position where I’m not even allowed to make that kind of a choice.” 

He nodded. “I won’t, I promise.”

“You mean the world to me, Nate; I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me.”

He smiled. “I know.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss onto her forehead. “We are a team, after all. I’ll remember that from now on.”

“You better,” she smirked. Cupping his face with both hands, she pulled him in for a sweet kiss which he happily returned. His hands wrapped tightly around her hips and he pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. When she finally broke for air, Nate rested his forehead against hers and nuzzled her nose. 

She smiled at the gesture. Then, remembering that Nate had not entered empty handed, she briefly turned around, grabbed a scone off the plate, then held it towards him. “Share this with me?”

He smiled. “I’d share everything with you, Liv.”

A/N: I don’t have a tag list so I’m tagging whoever might be interested.

“What?” You ask.

Bobby smirks, knowing he got your attention- something  he’s been craving all night. “This” he gestures to the bride and groom, “the big wedding, the speeches of how we met, the awkward stories from college.”

You scoff and stop yourself from rolling your eyes. You can’t afford to get your contacts stuck in the back of your eyes with all this eye makeup on. “I wouldn’t say that too loud, your date will get jealous.” 

Bobby smirks, and you instantly regret mentioning his date. “Speaking of dates Angel, where’s yours?”

You frantically search your mind for the  list of reasons as to why you didn’t have a date, unfortunately drawing a blank. “I would much rather focus all my attention on Jessica and Daniel.” You reply lamely. 

Bobby is about to reply when his date, the cute weather woman from the local news station comes to the pair of you. “There you are Bobby, Detective!” She smiles, “your speech was awesome. It was funny, sentimental, and the bride couldn’t stop smiling through the whole thing. It was short and sweet, unlike someone’s who clearly likes to hear himself talk.” She smiles at Bobby, clearly smitten. You can’t help but think about how she’s way too good for him, you have to bite your tongue to keep from telling her so. But you make a mental note to corral her in the bathroom at some point to tell her so. 

“Well I hate to intrude on your dancing time,” you smile at Bobby’s date; quickly untangling yourself from him. Relieved to have an excuse to break away, you make your way back to the bar relishing the cool air on your waist.

Several drinks later, you’re sitting around a table with a collection of empty glasses. The bride and groom have invited all the couples onto the dance floor. 

“Sweetheart, that may be the saddest sight, I’ve ever seen.”

Your head snaps up from your phone, you look toward the direction of the voice to see Mason sauntering toward you. He’s wearing slacks and a button down with a tie. A tie that you can’t help but notice matches your maid of honor dress. A far cry from his normal attire. 

“What the hell?” You try to focus but you’re too busy admiring the way Mason looks with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. “What are you doing here?” You frown, you only told Tina where you would be tonight, for the lone reason she agreed to pick you up if you drank too much. 

“Well we swung by the station, only to find it detective-less.” You notice the way his eyes travel the length of your dress, lingering on certain places. 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.” You reply, feeling your chest flush under the heat of his gaze. 

“Felix remembered you mentioning something about a wedding, and insisted I ‘sweep you off your feet’. Whatever that means.” He says as he takes in the scene.

You continue to stare at him, “that doesn’t explain how you found me.” 

“Oh, that, Agent Langford tracks you.” 

There it is. Leave it to good old mom to track your every movement, you would be irritated, but Mason looks so damn handsome. Also it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to show him off to all your college friends. 

“If you stick around, I’ll make it worth your while.” You smile up at him. 

“Oh, I’m planning on it sweetheart.” He smirks and rolls his lips together. “This is the part where we piss off your ex with how good we look together, right?”

Grinning you take his hand and lead him to the dance floor to join the other couples. Mason’s hands send an electric current through your body as they settle a little lower than your waist. 

Settling into a steady rhythm, he pulls you close and you take the opportunity to lay your head against his chest. As the music swells and comes to an end you look up to see Mason looking at you with his brow furrowed. 

“What’s wrong?”

Mason hesitates but finally answers, “you didn’t ask any of us.” 

You wonder if he’s asking about the whole team or just him. “Well, weddings are pretty intimate.”

Mason snorts, “you and I have gotten pretty intimate.”

You chuckle, “different kind of intimate.” Pausing to meet his eyes, you respond; “I figured you wouldn’t want to come. It’s a big wedding, there are a lot of sights and sounds. I didn’t want it to be too overwhelming.” 

“You were worried about me?” Mason chuckles “sweetheart, I will go to a hundred weddings if it means I get to see you dresses like this.”

You smile reveling in the surprisingly tender moment between the two of you. Your moment is cut short as Jessica makes her way over to you two. “Who is this handsome wedding crasher?” Jessica smiles.

You roll your eyes, “You were the one badgering me about not having a date. You wanted me to pick some rando from tinder.” Mason’s face resumes its too common scowl at that comment. 

Jessica laughs but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “I just didn’t want him to have a date, and you to be alone.” 

You smile at her concern. “Jess, this is Mason he’s my-“

“Coworker” Bobby finishes, sauntering over. “Angel, that’s just sad, you had to ask a coworker to be your date.” 

You freeze. You’ve never been ashamed of the nature of your relationship with Mason, but right now- at this moment, you really wish it was more serious. 

“I mean really Angel, if you were that desperate for a date, I would have gladly brought you.” 

You catch Mason out of the corner of your eye barely containing a scoff. Before you’re able to come up with a retort, Mason spins you into a passionate kiss. The kiss sparks that familiar fire in your chest and and your eyes flutter close on instinct. You sigh into it, allowing Mason’s tongue to slip past your lips. His tongue delves into your mouth with a fervor as if it’s the first time. 

“Coworkers, do not kiss like that!” Jessica laughs. 

Breaking away from Mason, you’re able to catch a glimpse of Bobby sulking off. 

“Come on! Introduce your ‘coworker’ to everyone.” She uses air quotations around the word coworker as she leads you to the table where you were sitting earlier. 

Too many drinks and a few hours later; Mason is rubbing your back in an effort to calm himself from the over stimulation of the wedding. You turn your body to face him. “You ready to go home Sunshine?” Your words slur, having Mason next to you for the remainder of the wedding kept Bobby at bay, allowing you to relax and truly enjoy yourself. 

Mason simply nods and you say your goodbyes. Mason leads you to your car, leaning heavily on him for support. You’re in no condition to drive home, so he gets in the driver’s seat. You lay your head against the cool window as Mason speeds to your apartment. At the rate he is taking the turns, you’re just hoping you don’t puke on your expensive shoes.

-

You wake up the next morning in your apartment with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. You open your eyes and check your phone. Several text messages from your college friends gushing over Mason, one angry text from Bobby asking what you said to his date, and a picture message from Jessica. You open the message from Jessica. You’re greeted by a professional photograph of you and Mason staring at each other, looking very much like a couple. You smile, saving the picture. Against your better judgment you send it to Mason with the hope he can pinpoint at what point in the night the photo was taken. 

“Sweetheart, why the hell are you texting me when I’m in the next room?!” 

Sitting up way too quickly, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. “You spent the night?!” You’re genuinely shocked by the realization.

“You made some very enticing promises last night. I plan on collecting.” You can almost hear his grin from the other room. 

A door slamming.

It could have been Morgan, fed up with Farah’s antics. He hopes it was Morgan. 

He sighs, and slips a bookmark between the pages. It could have been Morgan, of course, but Charlotte and Adam had been working together on some new initiative of the Mayor’s that required the assistance of the Police Department and the Agency. Once it became evident that his presence was not required, he had quietly excused himself from the room, shuffling Morgan and Farah out ahead of him. Morgan had gone willingly. Farah had required some encouragement. He wasn’t even sure either Charlotte or Adam had noticed; the tension between the Detective and their leader was bordering on tangible these days. There was an Agency pool going on when it would finally snap and how. Even Rebecca was aware of it, although she had politely declined to place a bet.  The two of them working on something together always led to an increase in that tension, and, he glances up to where the library door had needed to be replaced some time ago, Adam did have an unfortunate habit of slamming doors when agitated.

He really, truly hopes it was Morgan.

He places the novel on the table in front of him. It would be irresponsible not to investigate. Although, given that he can already hear someone coming down the hall, it doesn’t seem as though he’ll have to go far. The steps are too close together for Morgan, and too heavy for Farah. He manages to get to the door in time to see Charlotte storming past, looking straight ahead, back ramrod straight, both hands gripping tight on the strap of the overnight bag tossed over her shoulder.

As she passes out of sight, Farah rounds the corner, and points down the hall in the direction the detective had just gone down. “What’s that about?”

Nate doesn’t have an answer, at least, not a concrete one. Given the personalities of those involved, he can hazard an educated guess. But then, Adam and Charlotte usually part ways in frustration, not distress. And if Charlotte looks like that, then Adam...He needs to know, needs to help. But…

He knows Adam, has had the pleasure of knowing Adam for the better part of three centuries. His oldest friend is probably either on his way to, or already in the training room, with the aim of reducing dummies to stuffing and splinters. Charlotte…

“Keep an eye on him,” he jerks his head down the hall where their leader will likely end up, if he isn’t there already. “Get Morgan to help. Don’t say anything about it. Let me know if he leaves.”

He waits for Farah’s nod before he bolts from the building, getting to the security fence in time to see Charlotte slam herself into her car. He sighs, relieved. He’s not too late then. She’ll be easy enough to follow, so long as he keeps to the trees.

He does just that, and he’s grateful that all she does is go back to her apartment. It will be easier to talk to her there, rather than some of the other places she could have gone. He watches her leave the car, walk into the building. His eyes flick to her window, and he waits for the lights to come on.

They don’t.

Well, it is her apartment. She can probably navigate it in the dark, if she so chooses. He gives her a little time to get settled instead, before entering the building and knocking on her door.

There is no response.

So he tries again, knocking a little harder.

Still nothing. But he can hear something. He leans closer. It’s very muffled, but it does sound like...crying.

He knocks again, more urgently this time. He had never seen her cry, not after she’d been taken by Murphy, not even after Adam had been taken down by the Trappers. She’d been ghost-pale then, and barely responsive, but he had not seen her shed a single tear.

“Charlotte?” he calls, as loudly as he dares, considering the time, the neighbours, hoping she can hear him. “It’s Nate.”

At first, there’s nothing, and he wonders if she’s ignoring him, or if she genuinely can’t hear. He begins to contemplate the unpleasant possibility that he may have to call her, while standing outside her door. But then, he hears movement inside, the creak of furniture, shuffled steps, like someone dragging their feet, the click of a lightswitch. The door opens.

Nate had always been aware of the objective fact that Charlotte Langford was rather shorter than average height, but from the day they had met, that fact had been negated by the sheer strength of her personality. She was too much of a force to be reckoned with to be anything but large in his mind, regardless of her stature.

The woman standing in front of him is...small. Tiny, even, hunched over, her arms wrapped around herself. Even in the dimly lit hall, he can see the tear tracks running down her face, the blotches on her complexion, the redness of her eyes.

“Oh, Charlotte.” Instinctively, he opens his arms to her, and she falls into them, clinging to him like a child to their mother after a nightmare. He holds her on the threshold of her apartment as her tears begin to soak his shirt, offering what little comfort he can.

He reaches his door and is about to turn the knob when he notices the sound within. A heartbeat. A very familiar heartbeat, slightly slower than usual. He opens the door, gently, careful not to cause any kind of disturbance, and can’t help but smile at what it reveals to him: the lamp on the bedside table is on, and the Detective, Charlotte, is fast asleep under the blankets, a finger tucked between the pages of the novel that she’s clutching to her chest.

He steps softly into the room, closing the door behind him with as much care as he had opened it, bending to unlace his boots and tuck them off to the side. He peels off his clothes, tossing them carelessly in the laundry basket, and replaces them with pyjama bottoms. He had planned on spending some time in the training room to make up for all of the sitting he’d done today. But then, he hadn’t exactly accounted for the temptation currently occupying his bed. And after nearly five hours of being forced to keep a straight face while being blathered at by the Mayor, he was in no mood to be resisting temptation.

She murmurs to herself as he turns out the light and slips into the bed behind her, trying not to wake her. It’s a feat he’s never managed yet. She’s a light sleeper. And if he’s being perfectly honest, he’s not sure how hard he actually tries; challenge aside, there’s a not insignificant part of him that wants her to know he’s there, wants to feel her reaction to his presence.

He hears her heart rate increase, just a little, and she shifts, the book falling to the floor as she reaches behind her and begins feeling for something in the sheets. He slips his hand into hers, and she uses it to pull his arm around her waist. He tucks the other between her shoulder and the pillow, wraps it across her chest.  

He feels her inhale deeply against his arms, like a diver taking their first breath after they surface. “Time is it?” she asks, in a whisper.

“Late,” he answers, “Go back to sleep.”

She hums her agreement, and settles back against him. Her hair, almond-scented from her shampoo, brushes against his cheek. The skin of her arms is soft where they rest against his. And her hand, her hand feels so small where their fingers twine together. It shouldn’t be possible, that someone so fierce, so proud, so capable, should feel so fragile, so precious. It shouldn’t be possible that she should be letting him hold her like this.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers into the dark.

“I don’t think it’s about what we deserve,” she mumbles into the pillow, and her voice is still thick with sleep. He hadn’t realised that he’d spoken the thought out loud. “I think the universe just gives things to us, and we have to decide what to do with them.”

“You sound like Nate,” he says, tugging her closer against his chest.

He feels her huff, and he can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks, “Nate spends many evenings in your arms, then?”

“When would he have time,” he presses a light kiss against her exposed shoulder, smiles at her contented sigh, “when you’re there so often?”

She shifts in his arms, rolling to face him until they are nose-to-nose, her arms tucked against his chest “Would you have me there less often, then?” she teases, running a fingertip lightly against his collarbone.