Wood-Elf Writing

Southland:

Sammy Bryant x Reader

Growing Pains; chapters: [1], [2]

*Slow burn, each chapter will have warnings, if required.*

Off-Campus:

The Coyote and the Hawk:

More than once, the three musketeers had searched through the house whilst the boys were at practice, searching for the secret calendar or folder that they kept on you all, because for a home that was filled with a shocking amount of dirty clothes, discarded equipment such as hockey sticks and a small, but rotund racoon that lived in the bins outside you had named Paco, the bathroom upstairs had a draw filled with period products, extra pain relief and heat pads were stored in the first aid kit under the kitchen sink and the solo cupboard situation above the fridge was kept stocked with Hannah, yours and Allie’s favourite period snacks.

Due to a small evacuation in your building thanks to a student trying to dry their socks using a hot-plate, you girls ended up at the Hockey House early this morning, arriving before the boys you’d made yourself at home, you sat at the kitchen island, back facing the living room with a zoology textbook resting in front of you, your notebook open and a pen resting in your hand.

“How did you guys get in?” Dean’s voice rang out as the front door slammed open, adding to the already present door handle shaped hole in the wall.

“Door was unlocked.” You respond, not looking up.

There was a few minutes of mindless bickering about who was the last person to leave, therefore responsible for not locking the front door as they filtered through the living room, throwing gym bags in various places and into the kitchen, Garrett patted you on the shoulder as a hello, doing the same as he passed Allie then sweeping Hannah up in a hug, Logan kissed your temple, Tucker waved and Dean, being Dean plonked his sweaty chin on your shoulder.

“You work too hard.” He whispered in your ear.

Ignoring the heat that rises up your neck, you roll your eyes before moving your shoulder in an attempt to shake him off, Dean chuckled lowly before placing a kiss behind your ear and standing upright, “Why are you guys here?”

“Some idiot designed a hotplate was for drying socks, they evacuated the building and we were hungry so.” Allie responds, shoving a handful of peanut M&M in her mouth.

Most of the boys nodded, seeming to understand the situation with an understanding which makes you question some pasts, the kitchen hummed with conversation mainly focusing on what needed to improve before the next hockey match before eventually the subject of food was brought up, and eventually everyone except you had agreed on a meal which led to Tucker sliding a bowl of cut up fruit, yoghurt and granola in your direction as pizza arrived.

“Theres chocolate in the granola.” Tucker whispers, sending you a cheeky wink.

You smile at him, mouthing a thank you.

The house was usually quiet at mealtimes, the boys all lounged in their designated seats on the sofa and armchairs available, watching a movie on the TV instead of their usual hockey-based entertainment which resulted in a lot less shouting whilst Allie and Hannah stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island staring at you whilst making dramatic yummy noises.

Your shoulders tense as you watch them, an unimpressed expression plastered on your face as you wonder how much trouble you’d be in with Garrett if you launched yourself over the counter to rugby tackle the slice of pizza out of his girlfriend’s grip – the cons outweighed the pros in that scenario so you settled with eating the meal prepared by Tucker, which admittedly was very good.

“This could all be over if you told the truth.” Hannah whispered in a sing-songy voice, waving her pizza around.

Tucker’s voice echoes from the living room, “Don’t be mean!”

Your eyes crinkle with amusement, Allie and Hannah both give him a fake, sympathetic looks, mumbling sorry as you smile softly, looking back down at your notes and continue eating the bowl prepared for you, overall Tucker was the most supportive of your “diet” so far, still offering you food but ones he seemed healthy and making a list of food items – with a little help from his saint of a mother – but would keep you full, you felt awful lying to him, especially since he makes the most effort to keep you included, but then again, later on when you’re going to be eating enough cheese fries to make your stomach hurt, you suspect you’ll feel better.

“How did your first shift go?” Allie asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

Thankfully, the testosterone filled living room was too engrossed watching Scarlett Johansson in a black catsuit fighting aliens, which honestly you couldn’t blame them.

Oh yes, your first shift as a coyote.

Thankfully, it wasn’t awful, although you felt like a new character joining a tv series with all the original characters, but everyone was friendly and welcoming, you had met your direct manage, Charlise, who was super friendly and sweet, she talked you through the bar set up, routine of the dances and thankfully, the drinks were simple due to limited options and thankfully, the patrons preferred to stick to primarily shots, spirts and mixtures with the occasional beer and simple cocktails.

And despite the expectations of a coyote ugly saloon, the customers were nice, just wanting a goodnight in a safe environment and to watch some pretty girls dance, and thankfully Charlise took safety very seriously therefore any assholes were removed swiftly by the security team and to top it off, Charlise had paired you with a girl named Kat to train you for your first couple of shifts; she was kind, funny and annoyingly, utterly stunning.

“It was good, the team is nice and the atmosphere is amazing, plus the security team are just as hot as the girls so double bonus.” You say curtly.

Hannah raises her eyebrows suspiciously, “Okay, well that’s clearly not all of it.”

You shrug, picking up a bit of strawberry and throwing it into the air, catching it in your mouth with ease, earning a whoop from Dean who you hadn’t realised was watching the three of you whisper like a group of school children with an unusual level of interest, you throw him a smile before turning back to Allie and Hannah.

You sign, “They’re all just so hot, when I said before that they’d make me look like a potato, I didn’t realise it would be so true! They’ve got me paired with this girl; Kat and she is just so... perfect!”

Allie puts down her pizza and moves around the island to stand beside you, “Okay, so you’re not feeling confident, how did you show up? How did you do your hair and make-up?”

Picking up your phone from beside your textbook, you open your photo album, “Like how I am now, hair up with a little bit of make-up.” You explain whilst finding the mandatory first shift picture you’d taken.

Allie took your phone, examining the picture with extreme focus before making a face similar to one you’d make when a young kid has tried their best to draw a picture of you, with your phone still grasped in her hand, she motions for Hannah who meets her halfway as they mauver around the island.

Your remaining confidence slowly vanishes when Hannah makes an identical face to Allie’s.

“Okay…” she starts, eyes looking from the photo, to you and back again, “Your hair and make-up are exactly the same now as they are in this photo… why are you wearing your hair like that?”

You motion to the low bun your hair is currently sitting in, “To keep it out of my face.” You explain.

Allie and Hannah hum before placing your phone down gently on the counter, Hannah speaks first after a few moments, “Okay, what I’m going to say is filled with love, but –”

“You look like a librarian.” Allie interrupts.

They both watch as your face falls, you know you didn’t look mega hot but a librarian – seriously? And not even a sexy one?!

Allie immediately feels terrible and so does Hannah as she grabs your phone again, unlocks it and scrolls through your photos as Allie watches over your shoulder, neither choosing to comment on the various pictures which are less than pure in nature, which reminds you to turn off the setting in which photos from your messaging are saved to your photo album, Allie raises an eyebrow, amused and impressed by the collection.

“Here, now this is the Dove we know on a night out.” Hannah says, turning your phone around to face you, on the screen you see a picture of the last karaoke night at Malone’s, you wore your hair in a half updo, light foundation, dark red lipstick and glittery eyeshadow.

“But I’m not on a night out, I’m working.” You say, softly.

“It’s exactly that, Dove! You’re there to sell an experience!” Allie exclaims quietly but still managing to attract the attention of most of the boys in the living room, Logan furrowed his brows and Dean looks confused, but all ultimately decide to ignore you all as Iron Man appears again on the TV screen.

“There are very few jobs where you get paid to look and feel sexy.” Hannah says with a knowing shrug.

“What am I meant to do?” you ask, confused by the idea.

“Embrace the fact you’re hot and dress like it.” Allie grins.

You furrow your eyebrows playfully and put on a dramatic pout, desperate for this line of conversation to stop, “Are you saying I’m not hot now? I expected more from you two.”

Hannah laughs, clearly catching onto the game, “No baby,” she says in a tone you’d heard Dean use a thousand times, you cross your arms dramatically and turn away from her, avoiding eye contact, Hannah signs, “You’re the hottest.”

You turn back to her, uncrossing your arms to bring your fingertips together beneath your chin, palms down and resting your chin on them, smiling widely and battering your eyelashes whilst pretending to be embarrassed.

“But seriously,” Allie says, breaking up the silly moment and bringing you back to reality, “Maybe the reason you aren’t feeling confident around these girls because you’re not joining in with the aesthetic of being a coyote,” she says, which annoyingly makes a lot of sense, “So, for your next shift, do your make up a little more and, wear your hair natural.”

Your stomach drops an inch lower as the last words leave her mouth, you watch as Allie bounces on the balls of her feet, ever since you were little you’ve always heard the phrase, “you always want what you don’t have” and if that weighed any significance to you, it was your hair.

Like Allie Hayes, you had been given a head of curly hair, but unlike Allie, you had never learnt how to take care of it, or how to embrace it, which typically resulted in you either straightening it or wearing it up. In fact, you had never shown any of the boys your natural hair and had only shown Allie and Hannah by accident during a girls night when you’d forgotten to sort it once you’d gotten out of the shower.

“But Allie I don’t know how to do my hair.” You admitted, completely embarrassed.

Allie’s smile only widened, “Well, lucky for you, I can teach you.”

Fuck.

About an hour later, Logan wrestled your textbook from your grasp, moving you from the kitchen island to the sofa where everyone else had situated.

Hannah, naturally was scooped in Garrett's lap, head resting on his shoulders, Tucker was curled up with Allie next to him, a blanket across the pair, Logan plonked you down next to him which meant you were sat between him and Dean.

Pulling you feet up tucking your toes under Logan's legs and lean instinctively into Dean who without thought drapes an arm over you shoulder, his hand resting on your pulled up knee.

The movie finishes and the next in the saga starts, everyone settled into a comfortable silence, the smell of popcorn fills the Hockey House, Dean sneaks you a few pieces thankfully avoiding the watchful eye of Tucker, eventually people start to fall asleep, it starts with Dean, followed by Hannah and Garrett then Tucker.

After some time, you look over at Allie who mercifully is still awake, gently guestering with your head towards the door signally you need to leave, she nods in agreement before standing.

"I have to get going." You say as you gently unwrap yourself from Dean's arm, hugging Logan before standing to head into the kitchen, Allie looks confused, blinking at you, you silently mouth "work" in response.

Allie nods, tip-toes over Tuckers legs and towards Hannah, gently nudging her awake, whispering that we needed to go, Hannah nods sleepily before waking Garrett, "I'm going to head out with Allie and Dove." She whispers.

"But you're staying here tonight?" Garrett asks, stretching his arms.

Dean stirs from his position on the sofa, "What's happening?"

"The girls are leaving." Logan says.

Dean furrows his brows, both sleepy and confused, standing up and plodding into the kitchen where you collected your textbook, notebooks and various colour pens, filling a glass with water, Dean watched you carefully, "Do you need a lift?"

"No." Allie calls from the living room, too quickly and too certain, startling Tucker awake.

You chuckle, "Thank you though."

Dean smiles at you before nodding, "Okay, where are you all going?"

You freeze for a minute, "Just back to the dorm, the groupchat says the building is clear." You shrug.

Dean hums, "Alright then."

Quickly, and before more questions can be asked, you, Allie and Hannah hussell out the front door and into the cooling afternoon air.

Frustrated, Dean gulped the last of his water before putting the glass into the sink, he will deal with the scolding from Tucker later about not cleaning up after himself.

What was so important that all three of you needed to rush out now?

Why wouldn't any of you give an explanation?

What was all the hushed conversation about earlier?

The Hockey House had fallen silent, Tucker had fallen back to sleep within seconds, Logan being as chill as he is, didn't think much about what had just happened and simple refocused on the TV and Garrett just pouted at the fact his girlfriend has abandoned him abruptly without a valid explanation.

Dean however stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, eyes fixated on the front door he had watched you all disappear through, questions circulating in his head, maybe you had a girl thing? Maybe a paper due - no you'd written your paper last week. He really disliked having more questions than answers, walking over to the front door, he snatches his jacket from the hanger and shoves it on

"And where are you going?" Garrett asks, swiveling the armchair round to face Dean.

Logan threw his head back with a sign, clearly irritated by the interruption and Tucker huffed in annoyance for having his nap interrupted once again.

"Just out, that okay, dad?" Dean snips in response, deciding not to wait for a response as he grips the door handle and exits the house.

For the third time that night, the door to the house shuts quickly, Garrett looked over at Logan, leaning forwards in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Hey," he whispers trying to get Logan's attention, it works as he turns to face his friend, "Is it just me, or is Dean on edge recently?"

Logan let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah, I've noticed, I think Dove is getting under his skin a little."

Garrett purses his lips, and nods because he knows you get under Dean's skin, you had softened him since you'd become friends, Dean was already a care-free guy but since meeting you, he'd changed, become considerate and grossly thoughtful, he is the reason why one week a month, the Hockey House was filled with Oreos after all.

Taglist:

“This is amazing, Dove!” Allie beamed, leaning over the bar to snatch your shoulders with her hands and giving you a gentle shake, “Why aren’t you more excited? And please, please tell me you’re going to be dancing on the bar!” she begs, sending you a flirty wink.

You couldn’t help but smile at her behind your hands, Allie has always been a cheerleader for you and Hannah, nicknaming you Dove from the moment you both first met at sophomore orientation, stating that you looked like a frightened, innocent bird which, at the time, was absolutely true – starting a new school is always terrifying but add in the fact you’re from abroad, was even more terrifying. You then found out that Allie lived in your building with her new roommate, Hannah and that was the moment the three musketeers was born.

You roll your eyes at her, but smile at her enthusiasm, “Sorry to let you down, but it’s just a bar job, not the most exciting work but its work.” You shrug, returning to your once abandoned beer on the bar and taking a swig; truthfully your last job had ended due to a shuffle in staffing, the owner wanted to rotate staff allowing other students the opportunity, you were angry to say the least, but you moved on.

Allie whines whilst Hannah blows a raspberry against her hand from the bar stool beside you before taking a large, dramatic sip of her pina colada through the curly straw. “Boo! But you’re so hot, why aren’t you dancing?”

“Trust me, the girls they have dancing make me look like a potato, they are you kinda hot Allie and I’m not that, which is absolutely fine by me, the tips will be good regardless and the hourly rate is decent enough I can still live comfortably.” You respond, all of which is true.

Allie rolls her eyes at you, “Shut up, you’re beautiful, plus you have phenomenal tits and a great ass!” she exclaims, throwing her bar rag directly at your face, which catches you off-guard making you wobble on your chair as you peel the gross, slightly damp cloth from your face, gathering one end in your right hand and the other in your left, pulling it tight as you lean over the bar and towel whip Allie.

The three of you laugh hysterically as you get a few good hits in whilst Hannah, in her tipsy chaos, found the ice bucket on the other side of the bar and started throwing – not very well – ice cubes at Allie.

“When do you start?” Hannah asks through her laughter, her eyes slightly glassy due to the three pina coladas.

Leaning further over the bar to continue whipping Allie as she tries to escape, “Tomorrow night.” You respond.

“What starts tomorrow night?” a voice behind you speaks, making all three of you jump.

Startled, you glance over your shoulder, halting your attack on your friend to see not one, or two but all of the Briar Hawks standing behind you, taking in the view as you and lean, almost entirely over the bar, balancing your feet delicately on the footstool of the chairs as Allie jumping around like a feral alley cat attempting to avoid your attacks.

“What the hell are you doing?” Logan asks in utter confusion.

You purse your lips for just a moment, “Lets be honest, this isn’t the weirdest thing you’ve caught us doing.” You say, sending him a playful wink.

Tucker signs, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans signing like a disappointed dad recalling all the ridiculous things he’s been witness too, “I wish I could disagree.”

Garrett just stood there and rolled his eyes at the three of you before taking in the image of his girlfriend leaning over the bar, having accepted a long time ago that this type of behaviour was typical whilst Dean just smirked, his eyes rolling over you with zero shame.

“Please continue, this is the hottest thing I’ve seen all day.” He says, gesturing for you three to continue before crossing his arms, waiting.

You huff at him, making an effort to sound disgusted before throwing the rag back at Allie, which clothes lines her as it wraps around her head causing a howl of laughter to echo from the group, you plink yourself down onto your seat with little to no grace whilst Garrett guides Hannah back to her seat as she wobble slightly, planting a kiss on her forehead before whispering something in her ear which makes her blush.

Garrett takes the empty seat to Hannah’s left, Logan and Tucker then occupy the seats beside him whilst Dean takes the empty seat to your right.

“So, what’s happening tomorrow?” He asks you, his signature Di Laurentis smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, she’s –” panic floods through your body as Allie begins to speak, causing you to blurt the first thing that came to your mind, which regrettable was:

“Starting my diet.”

You have to physically suppress your cringe at your own lie.

“But I thought –” Hannah starts.

Your eyes flicker from Dean to Hannah to Allie, slightly widened and begging for your friend to catch onto your lie.

“Yes.” Allie interrupts, faltering only slightly due to the sheer volume of her initial response, thankfully she gathers herself quickly, letting out a small cough, “Dove is starting a diet… tomorrow night.”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his jaw slacking slightly, glancing around at his fellow teammates, “I mean, if that’s what you want to do, we support you but honestly, there’s no need for you to do that.”

“Yeah,” Garrett agrees almost immediately, “You look great, Dove.”

Tucker nods in agreement, a sincere but soft smile on his face, Hannah looks up at her boyfriend with huge puppy-dog eyes, and your heart flutters, because despite the past and continuous reputation of the Briar Hawks, they were the biggest supporters of the three girls that had somehow become a vital part of their ecosystem.

“I told you.” Allie says, before smirking evilly, “Great tits and ass.”

You freeze for a moment at her comment, not missing how Tucker and Logan suddenly looks completely away from you, Garrett laughed into Hannahs hair and just as you’re about to throw your beer mat at her, a voice from beside you halts your actions entirely.

“10 out of 10.” Dean mutters in agreement with Allie, loud enough for only you to hear before casually ordering his drink.

You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed as he glances back at you, those blue eyes running along your body as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, you roll your eyes in response whilst biting back the smirk that threatens to show on your lips.

Apart from the odd drunk kiss, nothing else had happened between you and Dean, not because of his lack of trying because he did try, often with zero success, deep down you enjoyed being the girl that Dean couldn’t talk into his bed and instead, the two of you settled into a genuine friendship with a routine of flirting and teasing because as strange as it was to admit out loud, Dean and you had found a strange comfortableness with each other.

As the night lingered on, the conversations flowed between  hocky – of course and classes, drinks continued at a leisurely pace as Malone’s filled with more students looking to ease the stress of the day with cheap booze, mingling and if they were lucky, a stress relief in the form of a hook up; slowly the group sat at the bar began to thin.

Hannah continued to get progressively drunker so eventually Garrett scooped her up, she kissed you and Allie messily on the cheek, informing us how much she loved you both with a promise to text once she had gotten home safe – that didn’t happen, Garrett messaged you ten minutes after leaving to let you know that Hannah was staying at the hockey house – Logan and Tucker called it a night a few hours later, Logan had some early handyman jobs in the morning, offering you a lift back to your dorm which you greatly accepted, giving Allie a kiss on the cheek before confirming your coffee date the next day, which sadly left Allie working behind the bar and Dean chatting up some blonde by the toilets.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean watched as you left with Logan’s arm dangled over your shoulders, pulling you close as your head tips back causing your hair to fall away from your face as you laugh at whatever Logan had whispered in your ear; the three of you turn to look back for just a moment to wave a final goodbye before disappearing into the night.

After a few moments and realising he hadn’t paid an ounce of attention to Becky… no, Bella? He excused himself from his conversation and weaved through the still lingering crowd, smiling warmly at those who called his name, clapped him on the shoulder and made passing congratulations on the results of the last hockey game.

Once he’d reached the bar, he leant his elbows on the bar and watches as Allie served drinks to mostly drunk students, he caught her attention as she flicked her hand, silently asking if he wanted another drink, Dean shakes his head.

“Heading out with Bianca?” Allie asks without a hint of judgement, she’d witnessed Dean’s play-by-play many times before, the routine usually ended with the completely consenting girl and Dean either disappearing out the front door, or more disgustingly and unfortunately, more commonly, into the girls bathroom.

Bianca! That was her name, Dean thought, “Nah, I’m going to leave her here wanting more.” He winks with a laugh.

Allie gags dramatically, causing Dean to roll his eyes, Dean knew that Allie was off-limits, she had a boyfriend.

“I wanted to ask you a question.” Dean says.

For the second time tonight, Allie looked confused, “What’s up?”

“What’s actually going on with Dove? A diet, seriously, the girl loves her food plus, I’ve seen her out-eat Tucker and that in itself is worth an award,” Dean says, an odd feeling of pride echoed from his words, but his tone soon changed to one of concern as he dips his head low, “Did someone say something to her?” he asks.

Allie picked up immediately on the concern in Dean’s voice, and she hated to lie, especially to her friends, “No, no one has said anything to her,” she says, not a lie but continued with a lie, “She’s just… self-conscious, I guess.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Okay, well if that’s true, it’s stupid because she has no reason to be self-conscious, but I know you’re lying to me, so what’s really going on?”

Like a true girls-girl, Allie went to lie again but the knowing look on Dean’s face told her it was useless to do so, “I can’t tell you.” She admits, a small weight lifting off her shoulders.

But the moment she spoke the words, Allie realised her mistake, because it was one of the worst thing to say to Dean Di Laurentis, because as a person Dean was nosey but as a friend, Dean was over-invested, and once he knew one of them had a secret, he made it his soul mission to find out what it was, but what made it extra enticing was it was a secret you kept because you didn’t keep secrets, especially not from Dean.

Dean hums, “So, our little Dove has a secret.” He mused, pressing his palms together and resting his chin on his fingertips like an old-school villain.

Allie rolls her eyes at him, letting out an exhausted sign as she clocks the people waiting at the bar, she turns back to Dean for a moment, “Just leave it alone, she’ll tell you when she’s ready.” She warns before walking off to the other side of the bar to continue her seemingly never-ending shift.

But Dean would not leave it alone, you had a secret and he was going to find out what it was.

Please let me know what you think, to be or not to be a series??

The interview room was cosy; built and furnished to appear more like a small living room rather than a cold room tucked into the corner of a police precinct. It was painted a soft green with a burnt orange sofa pushed against the far wall from the door with a matching arm chair sat at the other side of the room with a dark, low standing coffee table placed between the two sitting areas strategically to create space within the room, a cosy knitted blanket – courtesy of Gabriella, one of the cleaning ladies – is folded over the back of the sofa in a relaxed manner, with matching coloured pillows settled on either side of the sofa by the armrests and a brown rug was placed in the centre of the floor in a desperate attempt to hide the dingy grey coloured carpet.

One tall, well looked after plant sat on the floor in a dark pot behind the arm chair,  in the corner by the sofa stood a tall lamp and a playbox filled with preloved toys kindly donated by members of staff, and on the adjacent wall stood a single bookshelf filled with books for all ages; next to the door stood water cooler which bubbled occasionally next to a small side table where a selection of mugs and snacks sat; the large window on the wall above the table looked out into the bullpen with blinds installed so privacy can be given during interviews whilst the window on the opposite provides a decent view of the streets of LA.

The witness who had gotten in contact was a young woman named Lucia, her dark hair was pulled back revealing a tanned baby-face, you estimated that she couldn’t have been older than twenty-two and she was visibly terrified, her shoulders were curled forwards making herself tiny as she sat on the right-hand side of the sofa, her sand shook as she played with the hem of her denim shorts as her right leg bounced rhythmically. You had sat beside her on the sofa whilst Sal had taken a seat in the armchair across from the two of you; you noticed immediately that despite the hot weather outside, she wore an oversized jacket, zipped up to her chin and hiding her entire upper half.

“Lucia,” you say softly, gently bringing her attention to you, you had sat next to her but kept your distance so she didn’t feel suffocated, “Sé que tienes miedo, pero aquí estás a salvo.” You say in the same soft tone – I know you're scared, but you're safe here.

Lucia doesn’t speak, her eyes flickering between you and the small child who laid on a baby matt beneath a colourful mobile on the brown rug at our feet, the coffee table had been moved to allow more space for Lucia’s young son; he was content, happy by being kept occupied as he babbled, blew spit bubble and grinned whilst continuously attempting to grab at the colour shapes and animals hanging above him; he was a beauty, big round brown eyes, a cheeky smile and the squishes cheeks you had ever seen on a baby.

Sal sat silently in the armchair across from us, watching intently but you could visibly see he was trying to keep his face from being too stern, simply watching the you and Lucia with genuine interest; you ignored Sal mostly, almost forgetting that he was even in the room because you knew that you needed to find some way to make Lucia comfortable enough to provide you with the information she had.

You look from the babe on the floor to his mother, , “Cómo se llama?” you ask – what’s his name?

“Mateo.” She responses softly, almost a complete whisper but this time, she looks up from her shorts to meet your eyes, that is when you realised that her eyes are brown, exactly like her sons.

You smile at her warmly, “Un nombre precioso para un niño precioso.” – Beautiful name for a beautiful boy.

Lucia smiles shyly but with an aura of pride only a mother gets when someone compliments their baby, “Sí, es el mejor bebé.” – Yes, he is the best baby.

You nod in agreement, a true and honest smile on your lips. “Puedo?” you ask, looking down at Mateo and then back to his mother, your arms signalling from Mateo to yourself – May I?

“Si, si!” Lucia responds, her voice louder and prouder as she shifts her entire body to turn towards you – Yes, yes!

Gently and carefully, you lift Mateo from the ground and place him on your lap facing you, gently cuddling him into your chest, the small child immediately becomes fixated on your necklace like a magpie, chubby little hands grappling at your chest in a desperate attempt to snatch the silver from your neck; Lucia chuckles gently rubbing her sons head as you grab a stuffed lion toy from the playbox and present it to Mateo, whose eyes go wide and the interest in your necklace completely disappears and the lion was the best thing that ever existed.

Sal watched you carefully, because although he would never tell you this, at least not directly but you continued to surprise him when talking to witnesses, he had watched you crack even the toughest of suspects and stare down people actively screaming in your face, but with witnesses, you were different, you were completely human with them, friendly but firm when needed, calm and safe, people trusted you quickly and for the police in Southland, that was rare especially with certain communities.

Lucia watched you intently, for a moment seemingly forgetting about her as your focus remained on her son, his chuckles and smiles reflected in your eyes as you return smiles of pure joy at the young child; from your peripheral view, you watched as Lucia relaxed, not entirely but enough that her shoulders uncurled back to their naturally position and she no longer fiddled with the hem of her shorts.

“Lucia, se que estas asustada,” you start gently, cooing at Mateo and moving the toy around for him to grapple with as you turned him around to face his mother – Lucia, I know you’re scared, Lucia look at you and then down at her son where her eyes then stayed, “Pero para manteneros a salvo tú y Mateo, necesitamos saber qué sabéis, habéis oído o si habéis visto algo..” You tell her, your voice almost verging on n edge of begging – But in order to keep you and Mateo safe, we need to know what you know, heard or if you saw anything.

Lucia was silent for a long while, her eyes solely fixated on her son; the small, innocent life that sat happily in your lap, smiling wide-eyed and completely unaware of the dangers of the world, her face was unreadable but you could tell there was an internal struggle going on behind her eyes, speaking to us could endanger her and her son whilst not speaking could also endanger her and her son.

This young woman – young mother, was battling with a double-edged sword, and you could tell she was trying to decide which end was the lesser of two evils.

Minutes turned into give, which turned into ten; Lucia’s eyes started to water slightly, single tears wetting her cheeks.

Your heart was beating rapidly as dread started to settle deep in your gut, for a moment you glance over at Sal who shared a similar, tight jawed and almost disappointed look in their eye; you mentally prepared yourself for Lucia to become another witness that became a dead-end, too terrified to speak. You loosened your grip ever so slightly on Mateo, preparing yourself for Lucia to grab Mateo from your arms, strap him into his stroller and disappear.

But Lucia did something that shocked you and Sal – a man with more than ten years as a detective, and who you thought could never be shocked anymore – she wiped her face on the sleeve of her hoodie, dragged her eyes away from her son to look directly at you, her eyes red-rimmed but her face stern, and then, in heavily accented but perfect English, “I want protection, for my son.”

You couldn’t help but release the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding, which echoed outwards in a soft chuckle, you look over at Sal, noticing that Lucia mimicked your movements perfectly which made the side of your lip twitch; Sal still looked shell-shocked, his eyes darting between the two of you for a moment before he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

“You speak English?” he asked, knowing full well the answer would be yes, but he wanted to hear Lucia confirm.

Lucia smiles, slightly regretfully, “Yes, pretending not to speak English means people don’t expect you to be a threat.”

That tugs at your heart strings as Mateo grips your finger, Lucia could be risking everything by talking to us, you look over at Sal with pleading eyes, your supervisor locks eyes with you for a minute, reading your pleading expression before looking back at Lucia, and then finally at Mateo, for a moment he watches the small child with a soften expression, you can tell at this moment he’s thinking about his own children and what he would do to protect them, before returning his gaze to Lucia and nodding.

You turn from Sal back to focus on Lucia and drop your voice into serious tone, “Detective Salinger is going to ask you come questions, this interview will now become official and it will be recorded,” you explain, in English this time, pointing towards Sal as he begins to get a camera situated on a tripod next to the armchair, “I recommend you ignore the camera, tell us exactly what you remember, don’t try and fill in the gaps if you are unsure, we need everything to be plain and true.”

Lucia nods, understanding the seriousness of what is becoming next, taking a breath before looking at Mateo, you hand the small child back to his mother, before placing your hand on her upper arm, drawing her attention back to you, “I would also recommend Mateo not being present for your interview, he might distract you and we need your full attention,” you explain, you can see almost instantly the fear in her eyes, you squeeze her upper arm gently, “If you’re happy for me to do so, I can look after Mateo whilst you have your interview, you will be able to see us from this window.” You say, pointing to the window on your right which faces the bullpen.

Lucia swallows for a moment, looking from the window to you to her son before nodding.

The next ten minutes are spent with Sal explaining to Lucia how interviews are structured, Lucia gave you a small handover about Mateo, letting you know that he’s due his next feed in about half an hour, and eventually, Mateo is strapped into his stroller, stuffed lion still clutched in his hands as you leave the interview room and return to your check.

Mateo was instantly curious of everything surrounding him, but he remained buckled in his stroller whilst you sat at your desk, your leg gently rocking the stroller whilst sorting out paperwork, you figured a police precinct floor wasn’t the best play for a child to be rolling around on, thankfully Mateo remained fixated on the stuffed toy he was now gnawing on.

“Is it me, or are these detective getting younger?” a voice echoes through the room, signalling the return of Nate and Sammy.

Nate immediately makes a bee-line for the stroller, his eyes lighting up at the babe, “He’s the son of the witness that same in.” you explain, “She’s having her interview now, so I said I’d watch him for her.”

Smiling down at the child as Nate crouches to his eyelevel beside the stroller and started playing peek-a-boo resulting in Mateo erupting in giggles so much, he started to go a little red in the face. You wave Nate off for a minute, getting worried about the redness in the child’s face.

Nate looks up at you from the kneeling position on the floor, “Don’t worry, he’s just laughing.” He reassures you.

You smile tightly, unaware that Sammy has been watching the three of you intently, a strange feeling swelling in his gut as he watched you and Nate coo and smile over the small child in the stroller, he couldn’t help but watch the way you smile, how it reached your eyes and caused the small dimples in your cheeks, how some of your hair had fallen out of the tight updo it was kept in during working hours or the way he felt an odd tightness in his chest as you grips Nate shoulder with your hand as you both smile.

“Would you mind watching him for a minute while I go make a bottle?” you ask Nate, who nods without even looking back at you, removing Mateo from his stroller to hug him close to his check, waving the stuffed toy around.

You watch as you grab the milk from the diaper bag, and walk to the small kitchen, rerunning in your head how Lucia had told you to heat up the bottle; from the kitchen you can see Nate with Mateo, Sammy watching from his desk with a curious expression before slowly moving over to his partner, he smiles shyly at Mateo before starting to play peek-a-boo.

A flicker of something echoes in your chest, Mateo laughs loudly at Sammy’s goofy peek-a-boo faces before Nate hands him the child with no warning, Sammy’s eyes widen and he immediately goes tense which makes you chuckle quietly, its obvious from Sammys stiff body that he has never held a baby before as he awkwardly bounces up and down on the spot, clinging onto the child like he might slip through his fingers at any moment.

Without warning, Sammy’s eyes flicker to you only to find you already staring at home, heat flashes up your neck as you turn swiftly suddenly very interested in the ceiling as you turn to grab the cooling bottle off the side and take a few deep breaths.

“Get it together.” You mutter to yourself as you turn to walk back to your desk.

Sammy, still watching you but refusing to meet your eyes as you place the bottle on the desk, “Do you want to give him his bottle?” you ask with a smile.

Sammy’s eyes widen, “Eh, I’ve never done that before.”

Your smile widens and Sammy’s heart rate speeds up, “It’s easy, sit down.” You say pointing to your desk chair, Sammy does as he’s told, sitting down so slowly you’d think he was holding a live grenade, “Okay, now you’re going to lay him in your arms,” you say whilst helping move Mateo, your close enough that you can feel Sammys breath on your face as your touch his arms and hands, placing them in the right place, heat echoing up your skin “There you go,” you say as Mateo now lays in him arms, and you hand him the bottle, gently manoeuvring his fingers in the right place before directing the teat into Mateos mouth.

Sammy can’t speak, the feel of your breath against his neck and the touch of your skin as rendered him speechless; he smiles softly as he looks up at you standing in front of him with a proud smile on your face, you lead against the desk watching as Sammy feeds Mateo, his face looking down at the child as he relaxes.

Nate watches from his desk, a shit-eating know it all grin echoes on his lips as he watched you manoeuvre the small child into Sammys arms with such care, he watches as Sammy stared at you the entire time, allowing you to move his hands and arms exactly where they needed to be with eyes that took in every detail of your face, only looking away when he suspected you were looking at him, but a few times your eyes met, just for a second and now, you stood there watching Sammy with a proud smile.

Just as Mateo drifted off to sleep, a ringtone shattered the silence, Sammy’s eyes widen in panic as he recognised it as his own, you pick up the mobile from the desk and look at the caller ID for only a second, “Tammi.” You said bluntly as your heart sunk, Sammy’s wide-eyed expression only widened as he looked from you to Mateo to the phone in your hand.

Without saying anything you put the phone on your desk and gently take Mateo from Sammy, who helped by gently making sure to keep hold of the child head until he was certain you had it secure, he looked at you for a moment, the only thing between you was the small child you now held in your arms, before he reached beside you collecting the phone off the desk and retreating into one of the side offices.

It takes you a moment to come back to reality, the moments of Sammy handing you the baby made your mind race to different places, the way he looked at you before collecting his phone and disappearing; shaking the thought from your mind you continue feeding Mateo whilst standing up.

Sammy’s face in the office was red with anger, listening to Tammi accuse him of cheating with badge-bunnies, and him defending himself for what felt like the millionth time this week and it was only Tuesday, and then she said something that made him freeze in his tracks.

“Have a baby with me!” Tammi pleads down the phone.

Sammy almost laughs but catches himself before it can come out, “No.” he says pacing the small room.

“Why not?!” Tammi whines down the phone, the noise of things breaking echoing in the background.

As he goes to answer, he looks out of the office window and see’s you; you’re gently swaying Mateo in your arms as you watch him finish the bottle, gently placing the empty on your desk before putting a small cloth over your shoulder and moving Mateo upwards to burp him, the entire movement seems so naturally to you; Sammy watched as how moved, the look of love in your eyes as you gently patted the child’s back, smiling as he gurgled and burped.

“Sammy!!” Tammi’s shrill voice snapped him out of his own thoughts.

Anger bubbled in Sammys chest, and for the first time in a long time, Sammy yelled “Because we don’t have that much in common! I’m not even sure if we like each other anymore!”

Now that shut Tammi up, but only for a moment before Sammy heard crying, ugly crying from the phone, this was her go to move, if she cries, Sammy caves and apologises, in the end she gets what she wants; but as he watched you with Mateo, that small spark in his chest ignites into something bigger; having a future, having a child should be easy, should be natural with the right person, right? So why does it feel like nothing but hardship with Tammi.

And for the first time, Sammy didn’t cave to Tammi’s crying, instead, he watched you put sleeping Mateo into his stroller, covering the front with the towel from your shoulder to block out the light, “I’m at work, I’ll call you later.” He said sternly before hanging up.

Sammys heart was racing and for the first time in a long time, pride bubbled in his chest, for a moment he just stood in the quiet office, a small weight lifted from his shoulders and he smiled.

You pretended not to hear Sammys outburst on the phone, but truthfully, everyone in the room did, he spoke with his full chest and you had to turn away from the office window as a small smile crept onto your face, Nate watched you as he mirrored your smile, he had spent years listening to Sammy complain and then turn around on his statements about Tammi, he had watched for years as she broke him down, brick by brick. It felt good to listen to his friend finally stand up to her, but he was sceptical how long it would last, and as Nate watched you smile, he wondered how long it would take before you got your heart broken, because Tammi had hooks in Sammy so deep it might be impossible to cut out.

The atmosphere in the Gangs and Narcotics Division – G.N.D – was tense and quiet.

The open planned office usually buzzed with energy; filled with obnoxious laughter and crude comments bounced off the walls, mixed with a continuous drawl of cop-talk had fallen into a strange, almost sinister silence with nothing but echoing noises of fingers tapping against keyboards and dial buttons, coffee being slurped with enough force to make your skin crawl all mixed with the constant whirling noise of the printer working in overdrive to keep up with the demands; thankfully its constant noise helped drown out most, but not all of the frustrated groans and sign from your colleagues.

It was a rare day in the G.N.D where Southland had graced you all with a much-needed day to catch up on paperwork, allowing time to follow up on leads and update the case board you had been assigned too with the latest information obtained from spending hours going over interviews, witness statements and evidence returned from the crime scene investigators.

You push away from your desk and lean backwards in your chair, stretching your arms above your head in a desperate attempt to ease the tension in your lower back and relive the tightness in your shoulders, whilst you were grateful for the days to catch up on work and highlight new evidence, but days like these made you look back on your days as a patrol officer with an odd sense of nostalgia.

“Come on, just a little more to fill in.” you muttered as you rub your temples furiously in a desperate attempt to refocus your brain on the report currently sitting on your computer screen.

“Amor fácil, te perforarás el cerebro.” Detective Nate Moretta laughs over the top of his monitor – Easy love, you'll pierce your brain.

Your fingers halt at his words, “Buena espero que me mate y me salve de este aburrimiento.” You mutter back to him, being careful not to disturb the weird quiet that has settled over the room – Good I hope it kills me and saves me from this boredom.

Nate laughs softly, almost as though he is also scared to disturb the silence but before he can respond with something equally as sarcastic, Daniel Salinger affectionately nicknamed Sal due to the lack of brain cells from your team to come up with a better nickname for our lead detective, barks somewhat sharply, but most exhausted from his desk a few meters away, “Nate, Love, please enough you two.”

You dusk your head down behind your computer, concealing your smirk but Nate, unfortunately due to the placement of his desk if less lucky in hiding his amusement which earnt himself a sharp look from our superior, as you lean forwards towards Nate’s desk ready to tease him when a sharp, loud ringtone shatters the fragile silence, you flick your head over to Sal’s desk as he tenses, just for a moment, huffs quietly and snatches the phone off his desk before answering it quickly in a hushed tone before screeching his chair backwards and heading off into one of the side offices.

You watch for a minute as Sal paced back and forth, concern wrinkled in the corner of his eyes, Nate and you know Sal’s bark isn’t actually a dig at the two of you speaking Spanish, its because out of the six detectives within the G.N.D; you and Nate are the only ones without issues in your relationship outside of work, but in the spirit of teamwork, if most are miserable then you all must be miserable.

Without the threat of a verbal hammering, you straighten up in your chair and said, in a still hushed tone, “Te apuesto cincuenta dólares a que es su amante.” You say – I bet you fifty dollars that's his mistress, “Y por eso estoy soltera.” – And that is why I am single.

Nate’s eyes flashed with a silent warning, not a threat but a warning to be careful.

You had been aware of Sal’s affair for months with the local news reporter; you were a brilliant detective after all and being a woman in such as male dominated field, you got the disgusting pleasure of witnessing the different personalities these men show during working hours when they are away from their girlfriends and wives, but you keep quiet because it wasn’t any of your business.

Before Nate could give you a verbal warning, a voice behind you speaks, not in a hushed tone which makes you jump in your chair, Nate’s expression softens into a knowing look before you snap your head over your left shoulder to see Sammy Bryant holding two porcelain white mugs with the LAPD logo plastered on the side.

“Here you go, Love.” He says, slightly awkwardly with a very shy, signature Sammy smile.

The nickname – Love, at first was a joke created at your expense, when you first joined the LAPD as a police officer fresh out of the academy you were one of only two female graduates that year, but add in the fact you are originally from England, it came naturally and very quickly for the police officer you were partnered with to give you the nickname and only spoke it with an overly dramatic English accent.

Unfortunately, the nickname and the face you were a woman followed you throughout your career as a patrol officer, and despite the emotional upset it caused, you made a promise to yourself early on in your career that no one would see you visibly upset or cry, you were careful with your emotions, soft when speaking to witnesses, victims and family members, but you ensured any anger, sadness or anxiety happened out of sight from your colleagues.

You had a system that worked well, everything was out of sight, either in the toilet, when you say you were “making a call” or as you packed gear into patrol cars; but as you worked your way up through the ranks, earned respect from your colleagues and proved yourself, the stupid accent and patronising tones faded almost entirely, and eventually, Love became term used for you by everyone.

There were two people who are the exception to this experience, you had met Nate and Sammy when you were a patrol officer, you had been first on the scene to a shooting which ended up being potentially gang related, that was when you first knew that you wanted to be a detective in the G.N.D.

When Nate had first heard the nickname from the older man you had been partnered with, the stupid overly fake accent echoing throughout the underpass you all stood under, he wrinkled is nose, quickly understanding that the nickname was meant to be degrading and had muttered something in Spanish under his breath, when you replied back to him, he smiled wide and instead called you amor.

Sammy was a different story, at first you don’t think he realised the nastiness behind the nickname, you assumed Nate had informed him during a hushed conversation whilst discussing the case, because when the officer called you it again, accent increasingly become more ridiculous in an attempt to encourage other officers to get involved, Sammy called him out in front of everyone, leaving one stunned officer twice his age and you, slightly flustered, red necked and heart hammering, after that, he was one of the first to call you Love, without the accent and without patronisation.

You take the mug from his hand, “Thank you, Sammy.” You say, desperately trying to keep your voice and smile steady.

He smiles but doesn’t respond, silently praying that you can’t see the small flush of red now blemishing the skin of his neck as he turns to take a seat at his desk which is tucker between you and Nate.

Nate darts his eyes between you and Sammy for a moment, assessing the tension between the two of you before he sits upright, a knowing smirk playing dangerously on his lips as he leans forwards to steal a pen out of the small collection placed within a mug that reads “best auntie ever”, a gift from his very own children, before he says – not in a hushed tone as it was before – in a confident, shit-eating tone:

“Sí, soltera por elección, no porque estés suspirando por un hombre casado.”

Your face drops into an expression which is completely unreadable, you feel as though all the air has left your lungs whilst the colour drains from your hairline to your neck, only to refill from your neck upwards in a pink tone and instinctively lowering yourself in your chair; Sammy furrows his eyebrows before looking between you and Nate, completely clueless on what Nate could have possible said to make you, a woman of incredible wit and sarcasm with an almost terrifying nerves of steel, not only silent but bright pink and actually shrink in her chair.

You know Sammy had no idea what was happening, that was evident by the look on his face but it didn’t stop the small amount of embarrassment bubble up in your stomach, without thinking, you take a deep breath and shoot yourself out of your chair with a plan to march your way to the toilet but by some grace of whatever crime god lingers over the division, Sal emerges from the side office, now off the phone but with a stern look on his face.

“Moretta, Bryant – you’re needed, info heading your way.” He orders before pointing at the phone on Sammys desk as it starts to ring.

Nate moves from his desk, turning towards you with an apologetic look on his face, but as he goes to speak, Sal interrupts him waving his arm in the air, almost as if to wave Nate from you without moving from the doorway.

“No, Love needs to stay here,” he states, sternly looking between the three of you, “I’ve got a female witness coming down who speaks Spanish, might be more cooperative with a female detective.”

You nod once, not trusting your voice with a verbal response, before turning on your heels but managing to mutter an explanation that you’ll be back in a few minutes and walk, keeping your steps steady and your gait confident as you here murmurs from behind you.

“What did you say to her, man?” Sammy’s concerned voice whispers, thinking you were out of ear shot.

You don’t hear Nate’s reply, your already out of the room and passing the large windows heading towards the toilet, shoving the door open with a little more force than necessary before slipping inside, locking the door and letting out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, walking over to the sink, you grab the porcelain, suddenly thankful for the coldness now seeping into your warm palms.

Nate’s words echoed through your mind, not matter how much you tried to shake off the comment.

Sí, soltera por elección, no porque estés suspirando por un hombre casado.

Yeah, single by choice not because you're pining after a married man.