do you think that detective loki, would ever be in a committed relationship? like with a person who genuinely understands him and reassures him or do you think that he'll just push them away?
Hiii! Tysm for asking! I hope you’re having a nice day as well <3
Honestly, I think it could happen but it would have to be a very special person and it would take *mooooonths* for it to get to the point of a fully committed relationship.
There would definitely be loads of rough spots and moments of frustration, mistrust, pushback and pain but I think if it’s the right person he would be able to let down his guard slowly.
He needs a lot of patience and understanding but when that person keeps showing up and insists on loving him regardless of his flaws and trust issues, he would start to come out of his shell…
because deep down he craves that love. He craves those gentle touches and warm hugs. Sometimes he gets frustrated at how hard it is for him to let people in but it’s all he can do to protect himself.
All in all, it is definitely a very difficult journey with hundreds of hurdles but it would pay off in the end. David is the most loyal person in the whole entire world and once he let’s someone in he wouldn’t ever let them go.
Can you please do a david loki x reader?? (fluff or angst) Maybe focusing on his backstory (like his younger self) when he moved from foster homes and Juvenile detention center and how this one person helped him cope up with it, even though he was cranky about it, and he reluctantly caught feelings for them (quite stubborn about it) and then he saw them and then he saw them again years later (when he's already a detective) and maybe those feelings creep up again?
Thank youu :)
I love this idea so much. Thanks for the request!
My Old Friend - Detective Loki x Reader
Warnings: Extreme Violence, Someone Dies, Baby David Loki getting bullied.
Fluff and Angst
2.8k words
You weren't meant to be here, standing across from him in this room. Your eyes are locked with his, those same eyes that looked at him in very much the same way when you first met all those years ago back before he was Detective Loki, and was simply David.
1994
7th Grade
"Are you alright?" You crouch down before the quivering boy.
He's quite small for his age, awkward limbs and sunken eyes. Two minutes prior you had watched him get the shit kicked out of him by 3 much larger boys, and now he sits here on the floor next to the school toilets, arms around his knees, blood leaking steadily from his rapidly bruising nose. He doesn't respond to your question at first, still gathering himself from what just happened. After a few moments of silence he offers you a nod.
"I'm fine." The action of speaking causes a trickle of blood from his lips.
"You don't look fine," you point out, your voice filled with concern, "you're bleeding."
"Well aren't you clever." He uses the wall to pull himself to his feet, shooting you a hostile look which you ignore.
"Who were those guys?" you continue to question, despite how obvious it is that he wants you to go away, following after him as he limps off down the hall.
"I live with them," he relents.
"Oh are they your brothers?"
"No."
"Why did they attack you?" You're walking beside him now with a lot more spring in your step than he can muster up.
"That is none of your business. Who even are you?" he snaps, halting his limping to turn and face you.
"We are in the same class," you chirp, either oblivious to his hostility, or simply ignoring it on purpose, "You're David, right?"
"Yeah. That doesn't mean I know you. Stop following me around." He turns again and keeps walking, and once again you follow beside him.
"So why do you live in a house with people who aren't your family? Are you an exchange student or something?"
"If you ask me another question I'm going to punch you in the nose," he snarls.
"Sorry."
Over the next few months he feels like you are everywhere. You're next to him in every single class, you're always on the same table as him at lunch, and you walk home with him after school every day, because, as it turns out, your house is only a block or so from where he lives. He for one is indifferent to your presence, being more used to solitude, but having you around has it's perks. You aren't exactly popular at school, but bullies tend to leave him alone when you're with him. He's not sure why but it's a welcome change.
That afternoon the two of you are walking home. You've been rambling the entire time about a movie that your aunt took you to see in the cinema on the weekend.
"So the main character was this lady who really wanted to have a wedding and listen to ABBA or something," you explain to him, "and they all spoke funny because they lived in Australia, or maybe it was Austria, I'm not really sure."
David is listening to you talk with very little interest, more focused on the rock he's been kicking in front of him since you left the school.
"Have you seen any good movies lately?" you ask, tilting your head to face him.
"I don't really go to the movies," he replies disinterestedly.
"Does your family not rent out tapes or anything either?"
"We've got a copy of The Terminator and that's all the other boys ever want to watch." He kicks the rock on the wrong angle and it skitters off into the bushes on the side of the path. He blinks hard.
"Do you have both of them or just the first one?"
"There's a second one?" He looks over at you for the first time in a while. You look like you are about to go on a whole rant about how he didn't even know there was a second Terminator, and how that has to be some kind of a crime, but whatever you are about to say is cut off by a guy who you recognised as one of the people who had attacked David last week, jumping from the bushes on the side of the path and knocking him onto the ground.
David's head hits the pavement and he sees stars. Jackson, one of the older kids from his foster home, is on top of him. The way his arms are moving is leading David to believe that he is being punched repeatedly in the face, but he has gone numb and he can't feel it anyway.
For a moment he wonders what he must have done to piss of Jackson this time. Maybe he was listening to his music too loudly the night before, or maybe the he just felt like it. Out of all of his "brothers" Jackson was probably the scariest. He was the sort of person, David thought, who could just kill someone on a whim if he was in a bad mood, and he's starting to suspect that this is what is happening to him right now.
He closes his eyes and lets out a pathetic grunt, not even trying to save himself. This is it.
And then the punching stops.
He cracks his eyes open and for a second he sees an angel above him which as his head returns to reality morphs into you, wide eyed, holding a bloodstained rock, the very same one he had been kicking.
All he can think of is how you somehow look even more angelic than the angel he had seen just seconds prior.
He looks a mess. You drop the rock you had just used to bash Jackson in the back of the head, and push the larger boys unconscious body off him before gently pulling David into a sitting position. He pales when he sees Jackson on the floor, or maybe that's just from the blood loss. He garbles something incoherent through a mouthful of blood. After he spits it out onto the dirt he tries again.
"Oh my god." He looks down at Jackson then back at you, "is he dead?"
"I really hope not."
And that's how David got kicked out of his first foster home. It is also how he fell in love with you. Neither of you faced any jail time for the death of Jason, because the court ruled it as self defence, but that didn't stop the foster family from kicking him out.
He was placed into a boys home not too far from the old foster home. A very religious household. They enrol him in catholic school with the rest of their boys, and it is 4 years before you see him again.
1998
11th Grade
Much to the dismay of his foster parents, two sour faced Catholics who David seriously believed must be devil incarnates pretending to be religious humans to deflect suspicion, David has been expelled from St Josephs Catholic School. Teachers had caught him smoking in the bathrooms one too many times.
David had no idea if you still even lived in town until he gets off the school bus on Tuesday morning and sees you sitting on the front steps listening to something on your Walkman. He approaches you as quickly as he can without seeming too excited to see you.
You look up at him as he approaches not recognising him for a second, until his eyes twitch, and everything clicks into place.
"Oh my god, David!" You stand up, leaving your headphones discarded on the stairs and wrap him in a tight hug. Normally you probably wouldn't hug someone you were kind of friends with for a couple of months in middle school that you hadn't seen in four years, and normally David would not let anyone hug him at all, full stop, but you'd killed a person for him, so he's willing to let it slide.
After that moment the two of you were inseparable. He'd sneak over to your house most nights, and regardless of how much he tries to stamp it out, he is in love with you.
He climbs in through your bedroom window unannounced one Wednesday night while you are reading a comic book in bed. He looks like the ran the whole way here and flops down on the end of your bed with a grunt.
"You didn't call," you point out, setting your book down and pulling yourself over to where he is laying face first on the foot of your bed.
"I couldn't this time, sorry. They kicked me out of the house for the night," he mumbles, his voice muffled by the mattress pressed against his face.
"That's okay. I'm the only one home right now anyway, you can stay over." you reach out to play with the short hairs on the back of his neck. The two of you are familiar with each other like that now. He still pretends to be annoyed by it, but deep down he likes the affection, especially when it's coming from you.
"You don't have to let me stay." He rolls onto his side so he can talk properly. He's hung out at your house a lot, but he's never stayed the night before.
"Don't be silly, where else would you stay?" you get up out of bed, "do you want me to set you something up on the floor, or are you fine to just sleep in my bed with me?"
He hesitates for a second, "are you sure you don't care about me sleeping in your bed, you know, with you in it?"
"I don't mind if you don't mind, but the floor is always an option I guess." you rearrange the pillows on your bed so there will be one for him to use. You do have a double bed, so it won't be too uncomfortable physically, though perhaps a little mentally.
"Yeah okay. That works." David sits up and watches you get the bed prepared for two.
"Why'd you get kicked out?" you ask, laying down on your side of the bed and watching as he drags himself over to his pillow
"Got into a fight with one of the other guys." he rolls over to face you in the bed, trying really hard to not think about how close your face is to his.
"Ah okay." You know not to press him further about that kind of stuff, "do you want a hug?"
"No," he lies.
"I'm going to give you a hug." You shift towards him and pull him against your chest. He doesn't put up much resistance, "you deserve better than this." you gently run your fingers through his hair, coming down to trace the fresh star tattoo on his neck, a stick and poke someone gave him in the school bathrooms a few months back that earned him a lavish beating from his housefather. Despite himself, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and hugs you back.
For reasons he's struggling to name, letting you hug him makes him feel like a pervert. He is in love with you, regardless of how hard he tries to shove it down, and letting you hold him like this with zero knowledge of how he actually sees you feels like deceit in his eyes. He can't come clean now though. Not if it means you might stop holding him like this, like he matters.
Despite the fact that he fell in love with you that afternoon in 1994, it is only tonight that he fully comes to terms with it. You fall asleep in each others arms and he finds himself truly content for the first time in a while, overshadowed only slightly by the uncertainty of if you would see him differently if you knew just how much he needed you.
2013
Present Day
"Loki," the sergeant calls from the next room over, "there's a lady out here saying her house got broken into, can you go check it out?"
It's been 3 days since the Dover/Birch case closed, and the Detective is more than happy to be put on a slightly less pressing case. He walks out into the lobby and finds himself face to face with you.
Your eyes flash with recognition, and the second the sergeant is gone your guard drops.
"Long time no see," you quip, "I uh, like what you've done with your hair."
"So I hear your house has been broken into?" He covers the butterflies in his stomach with staunch professionalism. You look more or less the same as he remembers, though he hasn't seen you since you left for college all those years ago. He had hoped maybe the way he feels around you would have faded with time, but quite the contrary. Absence makes the heart grow fonder or so they say.
"Yeah, I was away over thanksgiving with my family and only just got back. The place was trashed and they took a whole bunch of my stuff." Your eyes flicker over him, and he tries to ignore it.
"I can come over now if that works for you."
"That works." you write your address on a bit of paper and give it to him.
You both drive to your house in separate cars, which gives Loki ample time to think everything over. You, the person he has been madly in love with since 7th grade when you killed someone for him, is back in his life after being gone for 25 years, and he's about to be in your house. He should really get his mind off you, and onto the case at hand, but he can't seem to tear his thoughts away from you. He never vocalised his feelings for you, but looking back on how you both acted with each other in high school he finds it hard to believe that things were strictly platonic between you. Things have changed though. It's been so long, for all he knows you could be married with kids now, and he's the only one stuck in the past unable to move on. Part of him selfishly wishes that you are just as lonely as he is.
He pulls into your driveway. You have a nice little house, but the evidence of a break-in is clear from the moment he gets out of his car. You've already parked just in front of him and have made your way over to your smashed living-room window.
"this is where they came in from," you begin, "I have some security camera footage but it's grainy, and they are wearing masks."
"It's a good start." he moves past you to examine the window before looking over at you, "can you show me the footage?"
You take him into your house and log into your computer, pulling up the security camera footage from the night of the break-in. The air is thick with unspoken tension as Loki stands behind you watching the footage.
"Pause it right there." he points at the screen and you pause it, "zoom in on the face of the guy near the camera." You oblige, zooming in on the pasty face of the person closest to the camera, who's mask has slipped to the side, "I know that kid," Loki sighs, "he's trouble. I'll have all your stuff back by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."
You nod, turning around to face him. The second you actually make eye contact with him he feels his resolve begin to crack. He seriously hopes he's not blushing right now.
He's totally blushing right now, and seeing him in that state causes heat to rise to your own cheeks. Neither of you really know what to say to each other now, locked in a stare.
"I'm going to kiss you," he states plainly, and you barely have time to squeak out a nervous "okay!" before his lips are on yours.
The kiss starts off gentle, but when you don't immediately pull away, he cups your jaw with his tattooed hands and deepens it, sucking on your lower lip. You respond with fervour, and when your lips part slightly for air, he slips his tongue into the warm wet cavity of your mouth, his tongue dancing against your own.
After a few minutes of desperate kissing filled with every pent up emotion from your childhoods, Loki breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.
"God, that was so unprofessional," he huffs, drawing a snort of laughter from you.
"Don't worry," you tease, "I wont tell. Although, we should see each other again. When you're not on the clock."
"I get off work at 5?" he suggests.
"I'll see you then."
Thanks for the request and thank you for reading!
My requests are always open and you can check out what other characters I write for here
A/N: Inspired by a conversation I had with @escape-surreal because we agree, waking up to David Loki is peak. I love a lazy Sunday morning and I love the idea of having a lazy Sunday morning with David. Everytime I think I’ve gotten over David I watch Prisoners and am like…no I love him your honor. Enjoy. It's probably the shortest thing I’ve ever written lol I’m proud!
Also just quickly wrote this morning sorry if it's shit!
Header made by me
Imagine…..
Soft rays of gold and dandelion yellow find their way to your body, brush over your eyes causing you to squint and try to shift away from the light. You’re stopped by something heavy, something warm that intuitively drags you closer to him and even fighting through the heaviness of sleep you know it to be David.
He’s been working a case, you haven’t seen him in almost four days but he’s here now. Must've quietly slipped in, a ghost to not disturb your sleep and you give a lazy smile as you give in to the morning rays.
So much for sleeping in.
Still, you could be lazy in bed. You could lay in the arms of your man as he nuzzled into your neck, giving a grateful sigh as you held him close to you. You could memorize the moles on the side of his face, falling down his neck as he breathed you in, breathed you out. He smelled faintly of cedarwood and pine, fresh and faint, a shower he must've taken straight from work.
You loved him.
You allow yourself to lay like that for what feels like hours before your stomach begins to rumble, legs getting angsty along with the list your brain is starting to build of things that need to be done. You shift trying to slowly ease out of bed, trying to escape the warm cage of your husband's arms. Except, like a flower touching the light of sun for the first time, he moves with you intuitively even in his sleep and drags you back to him, burying his head in your hair. His hips involuntarily push against you, the hard erection teasing your underside and you groan.
Now you only have one thing on your mind.
You know David won’t let you free now without waking, that any chance of sneaking away to surprise him with coffee in bed is lost. Instead, you take the opportunity to twist in his arms, to place tender kisses on his jaw, down his throat, hands moving down his exposed chest.
He hums content, hips reacting to your touch but he stays asleep, exhaustion winning over anything else. You take advantage of the position to move down with your fingers, lips dragging against his skin, tasting him. When your mouth latches briefly across a nipple he hisses, shifts to give you more access though he remains in his sleeping stupor. You move lower, lower, until you find your prize, his cock springing free from the rigidness of his sweats.
You don’t give him a chance to react.
Instead your mouth latches over his crown, its pink and swollen begging for relief, and you moan appreciatively as you give his hole a kitten lick, tasting his precum.
He wouldn’t last long.
His eyes shoot open, mouth ragged as his mind tries to process what’s happening. You don’t allow him the reprieve, instead taking more of him in your mouth and he moans, hips slightly arching as he whispers,
“Fuck.”
He tries to blink down at you, his eyes trying to latch onto your form but years of reading reports closeup and an undiagnosed astigmatism causes you to be a mild blur and he’s desperate to find his glasses, to find you.
You shake your head, humming as you take more of him, your mouth bobbing up and down his length as he swells larger in your mouth. The sigh of relief that spills out of him when he hits the back of your throat causing the walls of your pussy to clench but you try to ignore it.
You wanted this to be about him.
“Unh…baby…ungh I’m not going ... .to last. Been too long…”
His plea is a whisper, begging for mercy as your hand wraps around him, grips him tight, saliva and precum the lubricant for his desire. He hated when you selfishly gave into his desire, always mindful, but you know he’ll make up for it later.
He always does.
You also don’t want him to see you; you want him to focus on how good you’re making him feel. How he makes you feel. Your nose scrunches from the way his pubic hair tickles the top of it as you take more of him, desperately needing air but wanting to be consumed by him. He gives in, glasses forgotten knowing that you won’t let him have his way.
That it's best to give in to the desires you both had for each other..
“Fuck, like that Y/N…just like that. You make me feel so good. You’re the only one who can make me feel this good..”
His words are whispered prayers, they’re reverent, and you take each one like a gift.
When your hand cups his balls he stiffens, hands grasping for your hair as he takes charge, fucking your mouth. It's only moments later that you’re greeted with his seed, the taste of him coating your tongue, the back of your throat, the pit of your empty stomach. He shouts out your name like a priest in a temple, its loud and resonates against the walls, causes your cat to shift from her place by the window to leave the room, disturbed again by your fucking. You drink him in until he has nothing left to give and when you pull away with a pop you look up at your man.
His eyes are closed as he tries to regulate his breathing. His hair is disheveled, the dark thick strands that you love to run your hands through poking out in all directions. He’s older now than when you both first met, thirteen years will do that, and as he inches towards his mid forties you can see it more in his face. In the creases in his eyes, the laugh lines you’ve forced on him with time.
You crawl up his body, biting your lip as you move to grab his glasses, handing him the thick black frames as he blinks them open, placing them on his face to take you in.
You’re sure you're equally ruined - puffy lipped, cum and morning breathing mingling with his but he smiles at you in that way that causes your stomach to drop before cupping your cheek.
“And what did I do to deserve that morning treat?”
You smile back at him, soft and tender and shake your head.
“Loving me as much as I love you.”
Ocean orbs watch you, swallowing the way you look back at him. His eyes have always said so much more than his words ever could. Right now, they're telling you a lot. That he doesn't know what he's done to deserve you. That he's unsure that he does still deserve you, even after all this time. That he loves you back just as fiercely. But always, the lingering one that stains your heart - that he doesn't understand why you love him.
If only he knew.
Loving David was easy, even after all these years. Beyond his handsome good looks, he was just a good person. Mindful, thoughtful, compassionate. Smart, witty, funny. Even on hard days it just made sense, him and you.
You loved him.
The way he draws you to him, cum and morning breath be damned as your tongues tangle, you know he loves you too.
_
He’ll make breakfast, well, he’ll make coffee and get the things out for you to make breakfast. Out of the two of you, you were best equipped despite the many years you’ve tried to teach him.
He’ll know that you went to the farmers market the day before like you always do in the summer, that you grabbed the produce you needed for avocado toast that he’s come to love, the coffee beans he craves when you brew it at home.
In just his sweat pants he’ll stand in front of the coffee pot, a cup of joe freshly poured. No sugar, no cream for him. He’ll have poured yours too, heavy whipping cream just a drop, and be looking down at a physical copy of Conyers Bugle because he still liked to read what was going on in the small town despite the fact you both now lived closer to Philadelphia. A result of his promotion to PSP.
His hair will be in disarray, nothing short of chaotic and out of place for him, except in the safety of his home. In the safety of you. He’ll be sipping the coffee with one hand, holding the paper and reading it with his glasses in the other and only looking up when he hears you pad into the kitchen, face freshly washed, teeth freshly brushed.
The sky blue shirt that drapes over your body, frames over your curves naturally causes his mouth to tug into a smile as he heatedly drinks you in. You smile looking back at him, knowing that the precum stain in the front of his sweats was but a warning for the kind of day you were in store for.
You both have plenty to do - laundry, cleaning, meal prep - but you know the instant David looks at you it's a lost cause.
He’s already decided you and your shared king sized bed is the priority.
“I expect you to do the laundry later tonight then.” you break first as he chuckles, placing his coffee down and walking over to you.
“Deal.” he whispers, before his hips land on yours.
Yeah, you loved lazy Sunday mornings.
_________
All content was written originally by me @peacefulwriter88; you do not have the right to repost, use, or market as your own work.
Summary: Fresh out of the academy, David Loki’s a young cop on the night shift. What happens when during a routine traffic spot, he’s confronted with an old crush who has other plans to get out of a ticket?
A/N: Okay I love David so much I missed him and I am so excited to explore him as a father! Heads up, this won’t be fully seen in this part but its an important build up for him and reader who I am obsessed with.
_
David falls back in his seat as he looks out to the trendy condo that stands across the street from where he’s currently parked. It's a clash of the new and old, modern steel blended with old brick. There’s a large patio outside; it hosts an array of flowers and plants and the yard has enough room where there’s grass to sit in, enough space for maybe a picnic but that's it.
A quick glance would make it look like any other house, except there's a bird seed catcher hanging from the porch rafters song with wind chimes that sing softly when a subtle breeze picks up.
A touch of you.
There’s a little car that’s been abandoned too; it’s a two door jeep with a cacophony of colors on it and it's obvious that whoever owns loves it.
It’s his daughters. A touch of her.
He pulls out his phone again, instantly moving to his messages where he finds the last one that you sent a day ago. You wanted to share photos of Isla, he hadn’t argued against it, and he looks down at the six you sent with a small smile that forms on his face.
He has a daughter and she was absolutely perfect.
He blinks away the other thoughts that have haunted him since he found out. He didn’t get to see you pregnant, swollen with the love that you both had created. He didn’t get to go with you to learn more about caring for a baby - lamaze class he thinks, and he didn’t get to help you with building a crib, buying a carseat, lamenting over a stroller. He didn’t get to hold your hand and tell you how fucking amazing you were as you delivered his child. Didn’t get to be one of the first people to hold Isla for the first time, cradling her in his arms.
Two years of experiences lost.
All because the two of you couldn’t figure out your shit.
He thinks back to how he had reacted after you had told him about her. It wasn’t his finest moment but fuck, you don’t drop “hey before we fuck each other to kingdom come I had your child last year and she really wants to meet you” casually and not expect a guy to freak out.
The truth was he had been, was still, hurt.
He thought you could tell him anything.
He thought wrong.
_
David doesn’t know what to say.
He doesn’t know what to think.
All he can do is stare.
He stares so long that you move the phone away from his line of sight and breath out,
“Please….say something.”
That snaps him. The phone is gone. The child is gone.
His child.
Your child.
You both had a child together.
His eyes flit up to yours. You look scared, but you’re also concerned. He exhales, takes a step away from you. Drinks in your car. A Volvo XC60, a new and nice one that offers safety and luxury all in one. He can see the faint outline of a car seat in the back now that he looks closely through the tinted windows.
How did he miss this?
He draws his eyes back to you, exhales.
“When….was she born?”
“In August. Last year.”
“In London?”
“Yes.”
He ingests that information, closes his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asks.
It's the real question that lingers. Why did you keep this from him? Why would you think it's okay to keep something like this from him?
You’re quiet, so quiet he thinks you left. You’re standing there numb, shaking your head.
“I don’t know.” you finally whisper. You lick your lips as you look down at your phone screen, trying to grab words from your mind,
“I wanted too the minute I found out. I knew she was yours. I hadn’t been with anyone for months. So long I forgot that I was off birth control when we…..and I was worried that you wouldn’t….you were so adamant I continue to live life without you I was just really confused.”
David watches you back for a long time, ingesting that information. You weren’t blaming him and you weren’t blaming yourself but there was blame to be had and he also didn’t know where it laid.
It would be easy to lay it on you.
“Does she know about me?” he finally asks and you finally meet his eyes and nod. You’re crying, thick wet tears falling down your face.
“I’ve told her about you since she was born. She knows you because I show photos of us, of you.”
“Well that’s fucking something.”
He runs his hands through his hair, has to move around. Place this frenetic energy somewhere. His brain is now working overtime, aware, activated to the part of him he utilizes when he’s on a case.
“Your family knows.” A statement not a fact you confirm immediately.
“Yes.”
“You told them not to tell me.”
“....yes.”
He scoffs. Of course you fucking did.
“Where is she right now?”
“With Sam and his partner. He offered to babysit tonight because I told him I was going to finally tell you.”
David wants to hit something and can feel a torrid of emotions tear through him. Something about that, you asking your family to hide it from him, hurts even more.
“She’s the roommate?” he finally asks and you nod,
“I wasn’t going to tell you over the phone David. I wanted to tell you in person, you at least deserve that.”
“How thoughtful of you,” he doesn’t mean to sound nasty, he doesn’t but he’s barreling through a series of emotions and the one person who knew how to talk him down from them had been deceiving him for two years. He moves back until he’s flush against his car, finally saying what he felt down to his core, “You didn’t have the right Y/N, not the fucking right at all to not tell me about her.”
“I know David, I know.” you break out into a full sob, shaking your head as you look at him. You don’t look to him for empathy, there’s that knowing glint in your eyes because you know as much as he did that you had monumentally fucked up.
“I know I am terrible for keeping her from you and you from her. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared and I don’t know David. I was stupid and afraid. I thought you….I don’t know what I thought. I moved back because the minute I had her, the minute they placed her in my arms. I wanted to make sure you both had a life together. I only didn't during the pregnancy because I didn’t know what to do, I was scared and….it doesn’t matter.
I know what this means for me. I know that I broke your trust. I know that I may never have what I hope for us. But none of that matters because I rather you have a relationship with her if it can’t be me. You both deserve that.”
He looks at you, drinks you in. Even ruined, tears staining your face and shame ebbing your eyes he knows what he wishes he could deny.
He fucking loved you.
He still wants forever with you despite this betrayal.
Even if you threatened to drive him insane.
“I need to…I need some time.” he finally says and you nod, close your eyes as another sob escapes out of you. He sighs before moving closer to you, hesitating to touch you. He had to say what was really attacking his gut, what was really breaking him.
“You’ve never lied to me.”
You snap your eyes to him and shake your head,
“I didn’t lie to you though David, I just didn’t tell you.” you counter with a shaky voice and he exhales.
“I didn’t realize I needed to tell you that if you ever carried my child you should tell me. Not saying anything is just as bad as a lie.” he snaps back and you close your eyes and cry harder.
He closes his eyes, exhales. He hates making you cry, even when things are your fault. He hates the way you fall into yourself, the way you make yourself smaller. The desperate way he can tell you want to reach out to him because his body naturally in response wants to reach out to you. Doesn’t even have to look at you to feel it. His eyes open up in a series of ticks as he looks over at you.
Devastatingly beautiful, snot and all. This whole night was so fucked. He gives in to intuition and gently moves to grab your hands, gives them a little squeeze.
“Let's try this again.”
You look at him, fighting through your sobs as you shake your head,
“David, I understand if you hate me. I’d hate me too.”
He watches you accept the words, don’t look at him and he tips your chin back to him.
“I don’t hate you Y/N. I’m fucking pissed. At you. At me. At fucking life. But I still love you. The joke of it all is I still fucking love you, every inch of you. But..I need to….you told me we have a kid together. We have a child. Her name is Isla like we-”
The tears take him off guard, he isn’t expecting the wave of emotions to hit him as hard as it does and you squeeze his hand back.
“I know.” you whisper as he shakes his head.
“I need some time.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to want to meet her. I want to be in her life. I want to be her father. That’s not negotiable,” you give a sigh of relief as he continues. “But us…..we need to figure out what this is. I need to figure out if I can…Do you understand that you asked every person I love to lie to me. Most of all, you kept this from me. I love you but fuck Y/N how could you have kept this from me?”
The remaining words make you wince but you don’t deny any of them. Accept them as you whisper,
“I know. I understand.”
Your eyes tell him that you do; that you wouldn't try to convince him otherwise. That you had expected this outcome.
“I fucking wish I could hate you.” he tries to kid but a small part of him does. It would make so much of this easier. You give a weak smile as you say lightly,
“I’ve wished that since you broke up with me years ago David. Doesn’t stick sadly.”
“For better or worse it would seem.” he mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours. Inhales your scent one last time before dragging his lips over your skin, memorizing the feel. Then he pulls away and leaves you.
_
He didn’t talk to you for two weeks. Outside of his colleagues, and even those interactions were brief, he didn’t talk to anyone. He couldn’t. There was so much plaguing him. Sam had called and left voicemails and texts that went unanswered. Hell, even your mom had called checking in on him.
He couldn't do it.
He needed to ruminate, reflect, and question. Break it down like a case. Replay every interaction you’ve ever had with him. Question why you would keep something like this from him.
Figure out what went wrong.
After a few days he’s able to deduct a few things.
First - you probably thought he wasn’t interested in you in the same way he thought you weren’t interested in him. Despite the weekend in your dads study, neither of you discussed further what being together was like. You were logical and probably deducted that he came to you for comfort. That paired with the consistent way he has been pushing you away; insistenting that you live a life without him, ignoring the letters you sent minus the one he can by the end of the two weeks understand why you were hesitant to tell him.
Fear was a helluva thing.
It didn’t excuse it, doesn’t make it better, but he can understand. If the roles were reversed, honestly, he’d probably do the same. Maybe. You did end up telling him even if it took almost two years. And while there was a lot he was sad about missing, there was still so much more he could be a part of.
He can only hope.
Week three is him taking care of the little things that he never thought would matter. Like changing his life insurance; he wasn’t in the line of work where he could leave it to chance anymore. He made good money now, being the detective he was, and a large chunk of it went to savings. He figures he has to back pay you for child support even if you decline, which he knows you will, and navigates how he can support the other expenses that come with having a child.
You weren’t going to live the life of a single parent any further.
Finally, he decides to reach out to the people in his life. He calls Sam first.
“I’m sorry David, I really am.” Sam’s apology barrels out of him quick and fast and David chuckles as he walks in the grocery store. It's late, he figures it’s close to midnight, but he has no food in his home and now he feels he should at least be mindful of his health.
He had someone relying on him. Two people, really.
“It's okay.” David says and Sam huffs,
“No its fucked up. I love my sister but she can be so fucking dumb sometimes.”
David chuckles as he exhales,
“Yeah, she can be. But, to be fair, I -”
“Listen we both know you two were playing the worse version of love tag,” Sam cuts him off before David can even begin, “The yearning, sacrifice bullshit you both did, do too each other is because you both don’t fucking think you deserve the other and that was cute when it was just you two but now with Isla…”
Sam trails off and David frowns. Why did you think you didn’t deserve him? He asks Sam as much.
“I don’t fucking know dude. I think because when you broke up with her the first time she thought you wanted someone, something different. I don't think she ever fully recovered from it. She’s got an ego, my sister. And believe it or not, she can be pretty insecure.”
David chuckles despite himself as he stops in the frozen aisle. There were healthy things in the frozen aisle right?
“I don’t know about her being insecure but an ego; that I know she has. I think it's hot when she’s not hiding shit from me.”
“Of course you do,” Sam hesitates but then says, “Listen, my mom and I have been urging her to tell you since she told us she was pregnant and especially when we learned it was yours. She wouldn’t give in until she had the baby. Probably because…”
He trails off and David stops in the aisle, basket forgotten.
“Becuase what Sam?”
“I’m not trying to not tell you shit like my sister but also, that is actually shit she should tell you. I’ll just say it wasn’t an easy birth, it was scary there for a while.”
David closes his eyes, shakes his head. He can’t handle that knowledge, not right now.
“Noted.” he finally says and Sam clears his throat, tries to change the subject.
“Anywyas, my sister has become more out of pocket than normal since she’s told you. I doubt she’s sleeping and taking care of herself. My mom has literally prescribed her anxiety pills but I know she’s not taking them. Stubborn woman.”
“Is she..?”
“She’s fine David. She’s just…listen I’ll only say it once and you make your choice. I respect it either way. She just loves you a lot man. She loves you more that you gave her Isla. She’s worried that her insecure little fuck up means she’s lost you forever. To be fair, she’s also accepted that if it does, its your right. She lost the right to have you the minute she didn’t tell you about Isla. That’s all. She says it doesn’t matter, can’t matter, because Isla is the priority. For as much as she wants you, she wants you and Isla to have a life together. That’s all.”
That makes David feel a little better, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. At least you were aware enough to know that.
He had sent a text to you a day after chatting with Sam.
Can we talk?
You respond back five minutes later with a phone call and he leaves his desk, steps out of the station to take it.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” your voice is light, sad but it still makes his stomach pitch in butterflies. He hates how much he loves you as much as he loves how much he loves you. He can hear noise in the background and he clears his throat.
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. It's Sunday so…taking it easy.”
Was it? He didn’t know. He hasn’t tracked time since he left you in the garage.
“That’s good. You deserve that,” he hesitates, “How’s….Isla?”
It feels weird saying her name outloud, he’s only said it in his head, and it causes him to stutter.
“She’s good. We’re watching Gracie's Corner and practicing our ABC’s.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s smart like you, our little Isla. And chaotic like me. She’s singing and dancing in just her diaper right now.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh huh. Can you hear her?”
He can tell you move the phone closer to Isla because the faint sound of a toddler suddenly becomes very loud in his ear. It's the first time he’s heard her voice. She’s not really talking as much as she’s screaming, laughing, an occasional letter spilling out of her mouth. When she squeals mama in laughter he ingests the way you respond back with just as much amusement in your voice. He closes his eyes, listens to the way the two of you engage.
He imagines what it's like to see it in person. Yearns to be there.
When the phone is dragged away, Isla but a faint sound he whispers into the receiver,
“When can I meet her?”
“Whenever you want David. She’s yours too.”
He exhales shakily, blows out.
“I want to meet her soon. But I also think we need to talk about us.”
You pause.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.”
“Can you meet for coffee this week?”
“Yes,” you're quick to respond and he gives a relieved sigh.
“Would Wednesday work?”
“Yes,” another pause, “Would you……do you want to meet Isla too?”
He pauses, stays still. Did he?
Yes.
The idea of a child scared him. The idea of fatherhood scared him more.
But the moment he saw her, learned about her felt like he’d been wasting time to have her in his life.
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll arrange to have her picked up early from daycare. Lets plan for lunch and we can meet at my place. She….does better meeting new people in familiar places.”
“Okay.” he exhales, squeezes his eyes shut. This was real. This was happening.
Which was why he was outside of your condo building the nerve to go in. He has a bouquet of flowers with him, an old habit. He had wanted you to feel like you lost him. He wanted you to feel just as shitty as you had made him feel.
But he also knows, inevitably, he’ll come back to you. Because he loves you. Because you were the only person that loves him in ways he could never believe. Despite your faults, you were human. And you weren’t denying your wrong in this. That you had made a choice and it was the wrong one. He can forgive you for that simple knowledge.
But perhaps, this time you both needed to move into a relationship slowly.
He also has a stack of children’s books with him. Four. Where the Wild Things Are, The Day the Crayons Quit. When You Give a Mouse a Cookie because it's your favorite. Goodnight Moon because it's his. It's also the worn copy he had from his childhood, his mother had gifted it to him. He’s wrapped them in gift paper, tied them with ribbon with a bow on top.
He hopes it kinda makes up for the Christmas he’s missed.
The only one he will, he promises himself.
He steps out of the car, into the humid afternoon sun. It’s eleven thirty but it's also nearing August, so the wet, thick air tangles with the sun in an uncomfortable way. He had to work this morning, and along with the gifts he brings in a gun case so he could place his weapon in it before Isla gets home.
He didn’t want Isla to ever have to be near one but he also wasn’t going to chance not having it near him now that he had two women to protect.
He walks up the steps to your condo, takes in the hanging fern in the large window. He can see into the space, you have the curtains drawn open and it exposes a large living room. It's nice at first glance. He rings the doorbell, grateful to see that it's linked to some kind of security system. He’d have to ask you more about that for the future.
There’s movement on the other side before he hears you walk towards him. When you open the door he has to catch his breath; forgets how you always take his breath away. You're wearing a sundress, it has small floral designs on it and is a light sheer fabric. The top buttons are loosened, expose your bra and teasing cleavage and your hair is freshly wet, though dry enough to not trickle water down your neck. The dress reminds him of the one you wore on the first date together and that paired with the fresh scent of soap and roses makes him clear his throat as he watches you.
‘Stay strong David. You both deserve to take it slow’ he reminds himself.
“Hey.” he says and you watch him carefully, drinking him in from bottom to top. Lust peppers through your irises by the time your eyes reach his, though you shake your head and offer him a quiet smile.
You were probably fighting the same thoughts. Lust and natural attraction was never a problem between you both.
“Hi.”
A breathy response from you that has his pants tightening. Yeah, you two were doomed lovers. How Shakespearean.
“Hi.” he offers a small smile back.
“Do you want to come in? I just got out of the shower and was starting lunch.”
He exhales, nods slowly.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
_
He probably should’ve prepared himself for being in your home.
It's overwhelming.
First, there’s the personality of you. It shows in the furniture you’ve picked out, the photos that frame the walls, the way the house even smells. Hard wood floors and rugs dance together. The couches look fancy but comfortable, lived in. Despite the fact that you're a single mom, your condo looks like you’re a successful woman who can live on her own. Is peppered with the adventures of a life abroad, a life lived. Feminine, quirky touches that are distinctly you.
Except, Isla was also littered around. In the photos on the walls and the toys that have been organized to a corner in the room. There’s two blankets, it's obvious which is yours and which is Isla’s based on the designs on them. The shoe rack hosts your shoes and a few little ones that can only be Isla’s and his heart aches.
He can’t wait to meet her.
“David?” you’ve moved to the kitchen that’s just opposite the open living room. The kitchen is more modern, there aren't bricks but trendy tiles that line the walls. Modern appliances and nice granite that house nice lights. You have a bowl of salad that’s already prepped and you pull out bread, other ingredients for sandwiches.
“Was thinking of making a tuna melt.” you say and David gives a quiet smile and nods, holding up the bouquet in his hands remembering it for the first time.
“Thanks. I….. bought you flowers.”
You pause as you stop what you’re doing and take them in, then look back up at him. They are peonies and lilies, and he watches you brush away a forlorn tear as you give him a grateful smile.
“Thank you David you didn’t have to….uhh let me put them in a vase.”
He nods as you walk over to grab them from him, your fingers brushing his and you both exhale as you slowly look up at each other. You clear your throat as hesitantly pul your hand away from him, focusing instead on the gifts he cradles under his other arm, along with the gun box.
“Are those for Isla?” you ask instead and he looks down, gives a shy smile.
“Yeah I….I hope she will like…. I wanted to give her something too.”
You smile at him, reach for his hand and give it a little squeeze.
“You’re already gift enough David. But she’s going to love that. She loves presents.”
Your voice is soft as you look at him. There’s a strand of hair that’s gotten in your eyes, he moves to brush it behind your ear and you exhale shakily, biting your lip. His eyes naturally flicker down to them, imagining how soft they would feel and he exhales as he flickers his eyes back to yours.
Right. Taking it slow.
“Should I put them on the counter or….” he breaks first, shifting his eye contact to the island and you clear your throat as you pull away to find a vase in a cabinet.
“Yeah that’s perfect.”
After you fill up a vase with flowers, you start moving to make the tuna salad and he takes a seat at the island, placing the gifts and his gun case on the clean surface.
“So Isla is going to get dropped off around one today. They have early release on Wednesdays and I usually work from home so I can snag her. But a friend at the school offered to drop her off so she’ll be here around then.”
You say it over your shoulder and he hums in acknowledgement as you shift to the island to start chopping vegetables.
“Y/N.” You begin with peeling carrots, chopping them quickly in cubes to avoid looking up at him.
“Hmm.”
“What were you hoping to achieve when you invited me to the art gallery a month back?”
You pause, knife hovering over the vegetables. You inhale a few times before looking up at him.
“I was going to tell you about Isla. Genuinely, I was hoping to over dinner. But then I was selfish, I wanted to be able to have a few more hours with you where you could still love me before I ruined it all. Ruined us.”
In philosophy, the statement ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’ was something that he always took to heart. Eyes revealed so much, but especially with you. You had always held the habit of indirectly looking people in the eyes; it made you uncomfortable to be so intimate with most you had told him once.
With him, you had always looked him back in the eyes, you never strayed. Looking at him directly was the one proof you needed in loving him. The only time you didn’t was when you were hiding something from him. Or lying.
You stare at him now, guilt ebbing your irises and he nods slowly.
“Why did you think to keep her from me? Really?”
You raise your brows and exhale,
“I….misunderstood the difference between you wanting me to live my life with you not wanting to have me in your life. I was insecure. I was worried that I’d tell you that I was pregnant and you’d hate me for it. So I didn’t say anything because that seemed easier. Which was a joke. The more pregnant I became the more…” you taper off as you look off behind him before shaking your head, looking back at him, “Anyways, I had Isla and knew I had to tell you. I just was too chicken shit to do it over the phone.”
He watches you for a beat. Lets you stew in the discomfort before saying,
“You’ve always been bad at dealing with stuff that is tied with emotions. You run from it as much as I do.”
“I know.” your voice has hit that whiny inflection it does when you know he’s right and hate to admit it and he gives a soft smile.
“At least you can admit you were being a chicken shit.”
“Har har. I might be an ignorant asshole but I’m a humble one.”
“Obviously.”
You give a small smile as you resume cutting vegetables and he exhales,
“I forgive you, you know,” you cut a little slower because you can sense the but coming. “I forgive you. But I think we need to take things slow if we want to have a relationship.”
“If you want to have a relationship.” you correct and he shakes his head.
“If we want a relationship. No more putting the fate of our love in the other person's hands. It's what got us in this mess to begin with.”
You frown as you look at him and he sighs,
“You can take all the blame you want, and to a degree you do have some of it for not telling me. But I do too. May not be as small as you think it is but you had made it clear multiple times you wanted to try to make us work. Even when we were settled in our new lives. I pushed you away. I made you feel unwanted. That’s on me. I can understand why you were afraid to tell me, even if its fucked up that you made the choice for me.”
You watch him for a beat and slowly nod.
“We gotta stop making choices on behalf of each other.” You finally say and he nods.
“Yeah. We used to be really good at doing things together. Talking through things together. Making decisions that impacted each other together. I don’ know how or when we lost sight of that but we did. We can’t do that anymore. Not when we have Isla.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I know I am.”
“Okay, don’t get ahead of your detective. My ego can’t handle it.”
He chuckles as you go back to prepping vegetables before you pause and shakily admit,
“I want to be with you David. I want us to be a family. I still selfishly want that life we yearned for so long ago.”
He leans over, places his hands over yours. Helping the soft tremor from your fear to calm.
“I do too, baby. More than you know. But we gotta learn how to trust each other, yeah? Start from the basics.”
You let out a shaky exhale as you flicker your eyes up to him.
“For better or worse?”
“For better or worse.” he repeats and you nod.
Yeah, he could do this. He could, because you were willing to too.
It felt nice to have someone fight for him, to want him, to love him. He missed it. Even more, he missed doing the same for you.
_________
All content was written originally by me @peacefulwriter88; you do not have the right to repost, use, or market as your own work.
Summary: Fresh out of the academy, David Loki’s a young cop on the night shift. What happens when during a routine traffic spot, he’s confronted with an old crush who has other plans to get out of a ticket?
Catch up with the Rookie Loki Series: Part 1: Night Shift | Part 2: Twilight Troubles | Part 3: Day to Day | Part 4: Fuck It! I Love You | Part 5: Inside a Beginning, There is An End | Part 6: I'll Be Seeing You, Sunrise | Part 7: I'll Be Seeing You, Sunset | Part 8: Bloom
A/N: Yeah fuck it, I'm posting this part too. It's Wednesday, why not. Enjoy lol
“When you said that you were hoping to rekindle your romance with your ex I thought you were crazy. But seeing your ex…I get it. Rekindle away and share the highlights por favor.”
Mia’s voice is teasing as you both walk out from the bathroom. After you had been alerted to David’s presence, you had gestured to him to give you a minute so you could escape to the bathroom. In reality, you wanted to scurry off to freshen up your makeup, do another clean spritz of perfume, fluff out your hair.
Mia had been on your coattails, watching in amusement as you re-applied lipstick with a smirk on her face the whole time. You could tell she had something to say but you weren’t going to warrant it. You were nervous as it was.
“Har har.” Your voice is sarcastic but you can’t help the smile that falls on your face as your heels click on the shiny marble floor of the museum, lost to the sound of chatter from the event.
“No I mean it; he’s fucking hot.”
“David is really attractive, I agree. Obviously.”
“And sensitive. Your typical Romeos just bring roses. He brought you a pretty summer bouquet.”
You hesitate before answering.
“...he brought me a bouquet of a few of my favorite flowers.”
Even from afar you could spot the tulips, the snapdragons and soft pink roses you adored. Memory of an elephant he had.
“Oh….” Mia grabs your arm, pauses, “wait, wait, wait. Is he the one that…?”
She trails off and you exhale as you stop, look over at her. Mia was an intern with your company in the nontraditional way; while she was a student she was closer to your age having chosen to go to school later in life. Being freshly thirty year olds you and her naturally connected as you transitioned back; she had been a godsend with supporting you with your move back to Philadelphia and adjusting.
Naturally, after a few glasses of wine, David had come up.
“Yes.”
“Okay girl,” she steps in front of you, pushing the straps to your dress more to the sides of your shoulder. Your hair which was still pinned back escapes their release when she tugs on the clip you had it in, falling down to your shoulders in messy yet teasing curls. She squeezes your breast together, pushing them so your cleavage is highlighted more and you laugh as you push her hands away.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough.”
“Now it is. When you changed into this dress an hour ago, we all thought you were trying to impress the rich guests who would be here. I didn't realize that you had personally invited a suitor. This dress is hot, it makes your tits look great and your ass, and you look beautiful in it. So, let him know that.”
“David knows…he's ... .we were each other's first loves.”
“Yes, but it's a nice reminder. Also, when men get territorial they are more likely to make moves and by the way you've done your makeup and curled your hair you obviously want to get laid. I’m helping you get there.”
“Hey!” you laugh but you don’t deny her advice. The truth was Mia was right; you did want to hook up with David.
More than that, you just wanted to spend time with him. Share with him what had been sitting in the pit of your stomach after you left him on your dad’s office floor two years ago.
“I don’t just want to hook up with him though. I….we both made choices for our careers and it made sense for us at the time but now….he’s always had my heart, you know? I want him to know that.”
“He was willing to drive an hour here with your favorite bouquet and I bet you he’s not moved from the spot we left him in since you left. Trust me girl, he knows. He might be just as scared as you.”
“Maybe.”
You exhale as you do another twirl and Mia claps her hands and nods.
“You look great. Now let him see it.”
_
When you step out onto the floor, you’re not surprised by how the room is filling up. At this point, the event will run itself considering your primary role was to connect leadership with the media and most of that work had been completed hours earlier. The few reporters remaining were staying for photos and quotes, and you had made it clear to Mia that you wanted to be more offhands when the night kicked off so she would take lead for anything additional.
You were, after all, on a date.
David’s moved off to the side, he’s rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and the bouquet he brought hangs limply in his right hand as he ingested the large program hanging off to the side. You drink him in. He still kept the haircut you had grown fond of seeing on him. It didn’t look like he got any new tattoos, though the ones you were able to see still nostalgically made you want to wet yourself in desire.
You could do this. You could tell him exactly what you have been wanting to tell him for two years. You intake one final breath before walking over to him. When he hears your footsteps, he looks away from the large board he’s reading, an automatic smile falling on his face as you near.
You have seen many oceans, far more seas, even more lakes. Nothing matched the beautiful color of David’s eyes, deep pools of love and care that danced whenever he looked at you.
It makes your heart flutter.
You smile back at him, exhaling as you say,
“Sorry about that. Haven’t had a chance to run to the bathroom while I was supporting getting things set up.”
“It's fine,” he walks closer, awkwardly lifts the bouquet. “These are for you.”
You smile deeper as you take the floral plants, smelling the roses and tulips while whispering,
“You remembered.”
“You’re hard to forget. Every inch of who you are is implanted in me, rather either of us like it or not.”
You shake your head as you step closer to him and exhale,
“You know how to make a girl swoon.”
David was always cautious with you, always hesitant to claim that you were his. It took a good six months before he felt confident to initiate grabbing your hand in public when you both dated years ago, so you're surprised when he slips his arms around your waist, drags you closer to him.
“I know how to make you swoon. Especially when my goal is to make you my girl again.”
“Oh David, don’t you know by now it doesn’t take much.”
He watches you carefully, his hand is tighter around you before he leans down and places a kiss on your neck. It's tender, soft, and he whispers against your skin,
“A little warning; if I do end up making you mine again, I’m never letting you go.”
You’ve forgotten all words, sentences, what continent you’re on. You’ve been with a few other people since departing from David, much like he has, but he was the only man that knew how to make your breath stutter, to make your underwear pool with desire, to make you feel wholly loved and seen.
You’ve always been his.
“Hmmmm, you promise?” you whisper and he chuckles, nips at your neck that pulls out an unexpected squeak.
“I can guarantee it.”
He places one more kiss on your neck, lingers there for a second more, before pulling away and smiling down at you.
“Anyways, you should probably get those in some water. They’ll wilt if you don’t and I’m curious about the exhibit.”
The world becomes clear to you. You hear laughter, voices talking. The clinking of drinks and food trays and you shake your head, narrow your eyes at him.
“You’re playing dirty.”
“I’m getting revenge.” he says simply. His hands are still wrapped around you, claiming you, and he dips his head low enough for you to hear, to smell the cologne wafting off him, the faint smell of coffee.
He smelled like home.
“For what?”
He leans in closer, places a soft kiss on your temple,
“For giving me head on the side of the road unexpectedly six years ago. It ruined me for years.”
You feel yourself falling again, fuck why were you at this event when you both could be in bed, but the moment is lost as quick as its comes. He places one more kiss on your skin before pulling away, shifting and saying,
“Hi, you must need Y/N.”
He’s drawn you to the side with his extra clip, it digs into your hip in a familiar and nostalgic way, and you realize he must’ve come straight from work as his badge and gun are also on display.
You flicker your eyes over to who he’s addressing, Mia, who is watching you with a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Hey Mia. Sorry about running off, I was just saying hi to David. David, this is Mia. Mia - David.”
David extends his hand out, brandishes a soft smile as he says,
“Hi Mia. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure to meet you David. Not like Y/N to bring a date to these things.”
David smiles as he moves you closer to him, and you can’t help to lean in as he says,
“Must make me a pretty lucky guy.”
“You must be. So you’re a….”
“He’s a lead detective in Conyers. He’s solved a few cases and even helped the state with some.” you step in, needing to get control of yourself, the situation.
Not trying to melt into a horny, teenage girl even if that was exactly how you felt right now.
David flickers his eyes to you, curiously and Mia raises her eyebrows.
“Impressive.”
“He is.” you flit your eyes up at him and he smiles, shaking his head.
“Anyways, would you mind placing these in some water in my office. There’s two floors on this exhibit and I want to drag David to the top one before it gets really full.”
Mia is watching the way you both interact, giggles and nods,
“Oh yea. By the way Y/N I just wanted you to know you’re officially off duty. William and I can handle it from here.”
“Are you sure…” You’re not trying to fight it but you also were working and she waves her hand,
“Positive. Enjoy the night.”
She disappears into the crowd and David chuckles, looks down at you,
“So how deep have you been keeping tabs on me?”
“As much as I’ve needed to. It's my duty.”
“Hmm,” he looks out into the crowd, before looking down at you, “Want to get a drink before you show me the exhibit.”
You watch him for a second, trying to gauge him before nodding and smiling,
“Yeah, that would be great.”
_
You both grab a drink - a white wine for you and a beer for David - before you’re dragging him towards the second floor exhibit. Your goal is to work your way down; that way you both can decide if you want to stay and linger or head out for drinks and dinner.
You’re sure you know the answer.
Still, this side of David is new to you. He’s dominant, flirty, teasing in the best way. In the past, he would shield this part of him; you’d have to pull it out of him from behind the doors of your bedroom, his apartment. Now he’s happy to let you know that everything you’ve been worried about is wrong.
He still cares for you as much as you care for him.
The love that he claimed to still have was still there strongly for you.
It gives you hope.
He keeps his hand threaded through yours as you both walk through the exhibit, laughing and talking about the art pieces. When you run into colleagues at the museum, people you work with throughout the city, David is amiable, always introducing himself as you lead small talk before excusing the both of you.
He’s different in all the ways he’s the same.
“You’ve changed.” You say as you both slowly walk to another art piece, drinks discarded. David fingers tighten quickly in yours and he shakes his head, smiles.
“No I haven’t.”
“You tolerate small talk.”
He chuckles, shakes his head.
“Work has taught me how to tolerate small talk. I still fucking hate it.”
You laugh as you lean into him, smile.
“Me too.”
“Yes, except you naturally excel at putting people at ease and so they naturally want to engage with you. The only difference now is that you’ve garnered their respect too.”
You look over at him as he ingests the piece. You’re on the side of him where two moles are spaced apart, from his jawline to his neck, it reminds you of the constellations he used to chat with you about. You miss being able to kiss them tenderly, wrapped in his arms as his voice lulled you to sleep.
You were in trouble.
“Would you still like to have dinner with me?” His voice draws you back to the present and you blink a few times as he looks down at you. There’s a knowing look in his eyes and you smile as you nod,
“Yeah; I’ve just had a salad and lots of coffee for my meals.”
“That’s no good. You used to be great at feeding yourself.”
“Yeah, well….time has become my enemy nowadays.” you look away from him, off into the distance before you flicker your eyes back up.
“But I would like dinner. Especially with you.”
“I made a reservation and we have about 45 minutes to get there. Figure if we leave now, we should make it between getting there and parking.”
You watch him carefully, mindfully, before saying,
“Confident huh?”
“You typically never say no to a good meal,” he moves his eyes back to the piece, “Especially with me.”
“Cocky and confident. I like this new David.” you tease and he smiles as he drags your hand up to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss on it.
“I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
You both head out soon after that. David follows you to your office so you can grab your purse, the light jacket you brought. You’d worry about your overnight bag tomorrow; you wanted to pack as lightly as you can.
You're both greeted by Clarence as you step off the elevator to the parking garage; you introduce David who is happy to engage with the man and is grateful when he suggests a place for you both to park after he whispers to the older gentleman about where he’s taking you. He shares the parking garage with you because he wants you to be surprised for the rest of his plans, and even though you roll your eyes you can’t help the pit of excitement that it causes.
It's like falling in love all over again.
David, ever the planner, has mapped out the ride and parking perfectly. He follows you, parks near you in the garage, and meets you at your door to walk with you out of the parking unit. The night is cool, but in the way summer nights can only be, and you’re happy that when you slip your hand into his he takes it easily.
The walk is short; you’re grateful because while you loved the tan Gucci heels you treated yourself too a summer back they weren’t broken in and were actually killing you. Still, when you walk into the nice hotel that David’s led you into and follow him to a back elevator you're surprised when he tells the attendant his name.
“Where are we going?”
You need another drink, you feel nervous and David smiles as the man nods, directs you into the tight spice and swipes a card before pushing a button that you can only assume was the roof.
“Its a surprise.”
“A surprise?” you ask as the elevator doors close and David shifts to move his arm around your hips, drawing you close. You fall into him, hand falling on his chest and you ignore the muscle underneath, the warmth emanating off of him.
“Yes, a surprise.”
“This is a fancy surprise.”
“You deserve fancy. You deserve the world.”
“No I don’t.” you say softly, regretfully.
If only he knew.
He looks down at you, watches you carefully. He pushes hair from your eyes, his hand falling on your cheek as he whispers,
“Yes, you do.”
From this angle its not just your eyes that he can see. His lips tug as it drags down to your chest, back up to your eyes that you know have shifted to the fuck you eyes that you were more than likely giving him unconsciously and he smirks as he kisses your forehead.
“Tease.” he mumbles against your skin and you scoff as you slap his chest.
“I’m just existing right now wondering where you’re taking me.”
“Your eyes say otherwise.”
“.....so.”
He laughs at your response, gives you one more squeeze before placing a kiss on your forehead.
“Let me feed you first. Then I promise you can have your way with me.”
“Now who's teasing.” you groan as the elevator dings and he chuckles as he moves his hand back down to yours, intertwining them.
“Come on. You never did well on an empty stomach.”
The place he has taken you to is fancy; you’re definitely sure he’s going to drop at least one hundred dollars. You have seats on a rooftop deck, the Philadelphia nightline glimmers as your table is tucked away in a corner spot. You slide into your seat, mindful of how David pushes it in before sitting across from you and you shake your head with a large grin on your face as the waiter pours you water.
When he walks away David casually looks down at the menu and says,
“Remember to order whatever you want, baby. Dinners on me tonight.”
Whatever qualms you had about David have fully evaporated by now. Whenever you asked Sam about David, specifically about how David might feel about you, he always was nonchalant. Not in a negative way but Sam said he avoided speaking about you because he could tell it made David sad.
Your mom was no better, though she did say he asked about you often and she shared what she knew you’d be comfortable sharing.
You worried that David cared for you nostalgically, mindfully; you also heard from the few friends you still chatted with in Conyers that David dated occasionally. You didn’t want him to deny himself love of course, you dated too, but it made you insecure.
That the love that the two of you had no longer was real.
Except sitting across from him now, the truth was so obvious for the two of you.. Now you could understand why your dad always rolled his eyes and scoffed whenever you brought David up.
The love that you and David had was rare.
Even time wasn’t willing to break it apart.
David notices that you're quiet, that you haven’t responded and he looks up from the menu with knitted brows.
“You okay?”
“You know, you were going to get laid tonight regardless. You could’ve just taken me to Burger King and I would’ve been happy.”
David watches you for a beat, takes you in before shaking his head,
“I know. But like I said, you deserve to be treated well. I like being able to take you out and show you off. Always have.”
“A place like this would’ve given you hives eight years ago.”
He laughs as he grabs his water, sips.
“Yeah it would’ve. But you like places like this.”
“How do you know?”
“Your Instagram. I might have asked Sam.”
You smile as you lean into the table, exhale,
“How deep have you been keeping tabs on me, detective.”
“I’ll always keep tabs on you; it's my job.”
He reaches out for your hand as he repeats the words you used on him earlier and gives it a little squeeze. You look down at the tattoos on his fingers and can’t help the small smile that falls on your face as you ingest each syllable, what each meant to him.
Truly serendipitous, him and you.
“We’re fucked aren’t we?”
David laughs, squeezes your hand and you flicker your eyes up to him.
“Yeah, probably. But we were from the start. We’re just getting back on track.”
The unsaid words are enough for the both of you. You both get two mixed drinks, order appetizers, a rich meal, dessert. You naturally fall into the cadence of each other, David calls you baby the tipsier he becomes, his eyes boldly racking down your body the more the night moves on.
You can’t help to compliment him, tell him how proud you’ve been of him, how much you miss him. Eye fuck him whenever you get the chance too.
It's a dangerous combination.
By the time David’s walked you to your car, most of the garage is empty of cars. You barely make it to your vehicles door, turning around to tease David before his lips find yours.
You forget words, ideas, the notion of being human. Your hands hungrily dive around David’s neck, drawing him closer, dragging your nails through his hair as his tongue teases your mouth open. You both groan as he shimmies his hip into you, he’s turned on as much as you are, and you moan as he lifts you, your legs naturally wrapping around him. His hands dig into your thighs as you kiss him fiercely, sloppy and needy, and he growls as he drags his mouth lower.
“I want you Y/N…” his voice is lazy, husky and you moan as he bites your neck, kisses the skin tenderly. His hands are pushing the hem of your dress up and you sigh as he continues to assault your neck with kisses.
“Will take you here, in your car, wherever but fuck I need you.”
“David…”
Laughter suddenly echoes against the garage walls, close, and the sudden sound causes you both to pull away before you hear footsteps.
“Oh shit.” David whispers and you shift so you can unwrap yourself from him. He supports you, helping to place you down tenderly as a group of young men walk by. They clap and hoot as they spot the two of you huddled together, you hide your face in David’s shirt as he waves the men away, and you both wait for their cars to pull out of the garage before you finally pull away and look up at him.
His hair is disheveled, irises blow, mouth covered in your bold, red lipstick and puffy and you exhale as you lean back onto your door, biting your lip.
“You bring out my bad habits detective.”
David smiles as he watches you, licks his lips.
“I like your bad habits.”
“I know,” you laugh as you run your hands through your hair and look out the garage into the city. You needed to say it. You couldn’t move forward with anything else if you don’t get it off your chest. “I need to tell you something David.”
“Did I go over the line? Should I have, was this to much?” his voice drawls as his eyes shift from lust to concern and you shake your head.
“David, all I want to do is ride you into the morning sun and then sleep and eat a little and do it again. That’s not the issue.”
David gives a small smile, is amused, but the concern is still there.
“Okay.”
He watches the way you close your eyes, blow out air. You thought this would be easier.
“Okay, so, I sent you that letter because of course I wanted to connect with you but I also….I wanted, need, to tell you something.”
David watches you as you open up your eyes and look out into the night. This should be easier.
“You know, I lived in London for a while and it was great, it was. But I missed being close to family, I obviously missed you, and….well it was important that when I came to America I came back here. Specifically, to be near you.”
You shift your eyes over to him as he watches you patiently. Mindfully.
He always knew when to listen, when you needed the space to just be heard.
Its why this was so hard.
“I um….went back to London with a little souvenir last we saw each other. And now she’s almost two and um, she….she deserves and you deserve to know each other. She wants to know you.”
David isn’t shifting, has gone painfully still as you dig into your purse, pull out your phone. You exhale again, your hands shaking. You don’t know how to proceed, your hands are shaking heavily before David asks in a whisper,
“What are you saying Y/N.”
“Sam, my mom, they came to visit me two summers ago unexpectedly, maybe you remember. They never wanted to fly abroad but they did. They did because…I…fuck….I don’t know how too...”
This shouldn’t be hard but it is. You feel shame for holding on to it for so long, for not telling him the minute you had found out, fear it will push him away. That the real reason you were afraid to see him meant it would officially be the end of the fairy tale and that he would never forgive you.
Trust was a one way road. When it was broken, it is almost impossible to get back.
You’re worried that will be the case with him.
That idea threatens to shatter you in half.
Because you also couldn’t blame him.
David steps up to you, he’s quiet as he places his arms gently on your shoulders,
“What are you saying Y/N?” this time his voice is shaky and you look up at him with worry in your eyes before fumbling with your phone. The main screen reveals a hint of what you’re trying to convey, you find your photos app and find a photo easily from two days ago.
Round cheeks look back at him, one dimple digging into the right one. A large smile matches yours, with small teeth that peek out. She even has your nose. She’s beautiful; a mini version of you. She’s young, a toddler, David’s seen enough kids to gauge that she’s most likely between the age of one and three.
Except her hair is dark like his, a chestnut brown that reminds him of midnight when not in the light. There’s a lot of it, in the photo its pulled back into a ponytail that mirrors yours but smaller, and wisps fall out of it sloppily making her seem like a mini twin.
It's not her hair that gives her away though.
It's her eyes. Ocean blue orbs that mirror his own, they even sink into her face the way his does. They glimmer with happiness, and while she had his shade they are your shape perfectly.
The young girl's face is pressed to yours as you both smile into the camera. It's so obvious that you’re her mother.
It’s so obvious that he’s….
“David, this is Isla Kira Grant-Loki. She’s our daughter.”
_________
All content was written originally by me; please do not repost, use, or market as your own work.
Summary: Fresh out of the academy, David Loki’s a young cop on the night shift. What happens when during a routine traffic spot, he’s confronted with an old crush who has other plans to get out of a ticket?
Catch up with the Rookie Loki Series: Part 1: Night Shift | Part 2: Twilight Troubles | Part 3: Day to Day | Part 4: Fuck It! I Love You | Part 5: Inside a Beginning, There is An End | Part 6: I'll Be Seeing You, Sunrise | Part 7: I'll Be Seeing You, Sunset
A/N: This part and the next part will be back to back. Not sure who is reading or keeping up but going to post this now and hoping to post the second part either tonight or tomorrow to see if there will be traffic.
Two Years Later, July 2016
The letter arrives on a hot day the third week of June.
It mingles with the rest of the mail, and it’s for that reason David doesn’t see it until a few days later. The day he finds it, it's been a long day, the case he’s on isn’t heavy like he typically deals with but it’s tedious, and to add on to that he has a date that he was less than mildly excited about.
Except he had promised Michael he’d show up so he follows through.
The woman is….nice. She’s pretty, she works for the local school district and has a nice sense of humor. Except, she has to force conversation if there’s any moment of silence, she makes it very obvious the minute he sits down that she would love for him to fuck her in the bathroom, and she seemed….not dull. Just uninspiring. Nice for someone but not for him.
By the time he gets home it’s late, but insomnia has won again so he takes a long hot shower before deciding to have a glass of whiskey. Take care of the bills for that month.
It’s by doing this that he finds the letter.
He knows it’s your handwriting instantly, delicate cursive spelling out his name. The rest however is different. The return address isn’t the London one he’s gotten familiar with seeing the many times he quickly glances at it before placing it safely in a box in the closet; one made specifically for them. This one is close, Philadelphia, and the stamp on the other side of the envelope confirms it’s from the Philadelphia Museum of Art and Rodin Museum.
This letter was also just that, a letter, not a card like you typically sent him. It's also sent out of cadence of when you usually sent him things; you never send him cards for the Fourth of July so the timing is out of pattern.
Curiosity and worry tangle together, and that fueled with the whiskey causes him to open the letter without hesitation. The scent of you hits him first; it triggers a variety of memories that causes the alcohol in his stomach to go sour as his eyes ingest the words.
Dearest detective,
How are you? I hope that you’ve been well and have enjoyed the past few cards I’ve sent (he indeed hasn’t and he’s sure you know that despite the hopeful words). If not, and by some chance that you are reading this, there’s just a few things that I want to share with you.
The first - I recently moved back to America. I’ve been here for about a year now. I postmarked the cards I sent you for the past few holidays and your birthday in advance because, well, I didn’t know how to tell you. After losing dad, being away didn’t feel good as the months carried on. So I moved back here and am renting in Philadelphia.
I asked Sam and my mom not to tell you because I wanted to be the one to let you know. But once I settled in I realized I didn’t have your number and…well it felt wrong to get it from Sam without your permission.
He hates being in the middle of us.
And my mom refused to, insisting that I knew where you lived so I could just show up and let you know. Obviously an option I was too cowardly to follow through with.
So here we are.
Which leads to the second thing - I would love to reconnect with you. I’m currently working for a variety of museums on behalf of the PR company I worked for back in college. You know, the one that sent me abroad in the first place? Well, they offered me a really good role, I’m an executive now (they’re crazy ha ha). It would be so nice to be able to connect with you but also I know that the boundary you have set with me is important. I always want to respect what you feel is best for you.
However, if you ever need to or even want to chat, feel free to call me at 215-555….
David’s reaching for his phone without thinking, a single thought on his mind.
Did you really want to reconnect?
He’s not mindful of the time; day is night and night is day to him at this point in his life. You were trying to still respect the boundary he set. Wasn’t that the biggest joke. He pushed you away because he wanted what was best for you, and didn't want to be the reason why you might live a life of regret down the road.
Yet here he was living it for you. It only took a year after you both had reconnected post your father’s funeral that he was willing to admit to himself how much he regretted letting you go; even more on how he regretted not being bold enough to reach out.
The truth was he feared rejection; that you would realize it was best the decision you had both made. He knows he wouldn’t be able to survive that level of pain.
The phone rings once, twice, and he’s about to hang up when he hears,
“Hello?”
He freezes. He’s not sure what to do or say. Five seconds ago this was a brilliant plan.
Now? Now he felt like an insecure idiot.
“Hello?” you repeat into the receiver, lower and he can hear the exhaustion in your tone so he clears his throat as he says,
“Hey Y/N.”
A slight pause. He hears something distant in the background, maybe a TV? A stereo?
“David?”
“Your one and only.”
He hears you shift, turn down the volume of whatever was on faintly that you were listening to.
“Oh my fucking god. You actually read my note?”
The disbelief in your voice causes the edges of his mouth to tug up, he hates the way you can easily draw out a smile from him even if you weren’t trying to. He grasps on the way your voice tangos with happiness and relief.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one swimming with regret.
“Yeah…sorry if I’m calling too late. I can try tomorrow morning-”
“No, no, no. Night time is our time; you’re okay.”
You cut him off and he can’t help the soft chuckle that escapes from him.
“Our time huh?”
“We always have our best conversations in the waning light. We’re cryptids of the night, you and I.”
He fully laughs now, sits back in his chair as he exhales.
“That’s true I suppose.”
“It is,” another pause, “How are you David?”
He looks down at the drink in his hand. He could lie and say he was fine. And he was. But you would know better. You would know the truth dancing behind the words. Or maybe you won’t and he just needs an excuse to engage with you, connect.
He takes a leap.
“Honestly? Fucking exhausted. Up until ten minutes ago I was utterly unamused but then I found your note and… Well now I feel a bit better.”
“I’m happy it helped. I understand being exhausted too. I'm currently scouring data, convincing myself that I’m still on London time and not fighting insomnia but meh you know how it goes. Tomato, potato.”
He can hear the smile in your voice, wishes he could watch it form as he asks,
“So you’re back in Pennsylvania huh?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a story there?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you could’ve moved back anywhere and you choose…here.”
You sigh in that familiar way, the one that is both amused and holding on to disbelief.
“Oh David; your wit and looks might have matured but not that self deprecating sense of humor of yours. My family is here. Mom is here. Sam moved back here after finishing school out west. But most importantly you’re here so…”
He doesn't mean for his breath to shutter but it does. He wants all the excuses to not have a reason to engage with you but you’ve never been one to tolerate the way he pushes away. You were better at pulling him back.
You were fine with the tug of war game of self love and hate he mentally played with himself.
“Well technically I’m in Conyers and not Philadelphia but sure.”
You laugh, its wholehearted and genuine before you say,
“Yeah, true. But we’re going to have to repair the frays of our relationship if you get me back there. Baby steps.”
“Fair,” he takes a sip, looks down at his glass. “So catch me up on life.”
You both end up on the phone for two hours - he listens to the last two years that had slipped from his fingers. Your life felt foreign to him, like an illusion or fever dream he had read about in books but didn’t think people actually did. You have traveled to over twenty countries and met interesting people and now….
Now you are here.
“Do you miss it?” he asks, whiskey long gone. He’s in his bed, the room is dark minus the illumination of his phone and you lazily reply back,
“Hmmm, I thought I’d miss it more. And sometimes I do. But no. I love that I was able to travel. Meet people, see places. Know that I could do it alone. And eventually, I want to go out and see the world. But I also want to be grounded with someone when I go back out and explore. It's nice to share the experience.”
He closes his eyes as you nudge,
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes you detective.”
He likes the new nickname you’ve bestowed on him; normally he shied away from his title but with you it felt like a badge of honor.
“Nothing much.”
“You mean, you’re not going to tell me how you’re still the only detective in Pennsylvania history who has solved every case he’s been assigned. And keeps denying going to other departments ‘because you’re just not ready’.”
He frowns, even if there's amusement in his voice as he asks,
“You’re keeping tabs on me?”
“Haven’t you been keeping tabs on me?”
A beat.
“....I mean, if I was it was because I wanted to make sure you were living your life.”
You laugh, lightheartedly and exhale into the phone,
“Admit it; you miss me.”
“I do miss you.”
He says it soft and low, swallows.
“I was wondering-”
There’s sudden movement on your end, the phone gets muffled, and when you get back on you’re whispering,
“Okay, sorry about this but my roommate just woke up and she’s pissed because I woke her up sooo I should probably get off the phone.”
“You have a roommate?” he doesn’t mean to sound incredulous but he does and you laugh louder than he’s guessing you want because you respond with a whisper.
“Yeah. You’d love her. Anyways, she’s had a long day, she’s tired and has asked very politely for me to essentially fuck off.
But….can I save your number? I’d like to do this again. Chat. Connect.”
He laughs, looks over at his alarm and can understand the frustration. If someone woke him up at two a.m. he’d be pissed too.
“Yeah. Save my number. Call me or text me whenever you want. But only if I can do the same.”
“I’d expect nothing less, detective. Have a good night David. Looking forward to hearing from you more.”
Your voice is teasing and light; it's hopeful in that familiar way that reminds him of when you were both younger and in love.
“Good night Y/N. Rest. You deserve it.”
The soft exhale of your voice before you hang up is all he needs to know.
He was going to win your heart over again.
_
He knows he has to take the lead on this; not you, not this time.
Your relationship previously had been built on you letting him know how much he meant to you, how much you wanted him. Even after the breakup you mailed him a birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years card for six years consistently.
You had already shown how much you were willing to hang on. So he knows that final push when you both said your goodbyes in the confines of your dads office, despite the steady communication you still sent, was why you didn’t just steal your brother's phone and get his number outright.
Because you did respect his boundaries and always respected his wishes.
Which is why he knows that this time, he has to court you in the way you courted him all those years ago.
He starts first with texts. Good morning, good afternoon, good night. He always asks one good thing that's gone well with your day in the evening and one good thing you were hoping to have happen for you in the morning.
He doesn’t push away when you ask more about him - why he was still in the apartment he was in, had he switched up his wardrobe (a bit, but probably not really. What he wore was practical).
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asks on a Thursday. You’re walking him through a simple chicken and veggie stir fry and while he feels like he’s swimming in instructions you’re patient as he sautees veggies.
“It's taken you this long to ask?” you tease and he frowns.
It's been two weeks now, it's mid July and he feels shy, silly. Should he have asked sooner?
“I didn’t want to be…I didn’t want you to feel like I-” he doesn’t know the words; doesn’t know how to articulate that he didn't want you to feel like you were settling on him or assume he still had a claim over you.
“David, David, David,” you tsk, moving around in your kitchen before saying, “No, I am not seeing anyone. I am just talking to you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really? Why is that hard for you to believe?” your voice is light and teasing, the way it gets when you get insecure and he exhales as he admits,
“Sam showed me a picture of the two of you recently and…..Y/N you have to know you're gorgeous. You’re beautiful and smart and funny and successful and….”
He lets the rest go as you exhale,
“Well thank you for the compliments detective but I always told you; I choose you. So, there, no man.”
You say it simply and he nods, clears his throat as you ask,
“Well.”
“Well what?”
“Are you seeing someone? You too are handsome, smart, funny, and successful.”
He frowns, scraps at the pan. Not really. Beyond….
“I mean…Michael has been trying to hook me up with his wife's friends for years. There was this one girl, Tiffany, I took on a few dates a few weeks back. But I wasn’t really interested in her and quite frankly, forgot all about her when we started talking.”
“David! You ghosted her?”
“Ghosted?” another frown.
“Have you responded to any of her texts?”
“No…”
“David.” you’re laughing and he shrugs, frowns deeper.
“Not since I called you two weeks ago. I told her I enjoyed my time with her but I didn’t think we were a good match. That I found someone else and-”
“Oh David, even worse. The sting of rejection.”
“I wanted her to know why I wasn’t, and wouldn’t continue to, respond to her texts!”
You laugh as you navigate through your kitchen, he can hear you tinkering and moving around,
“Okay, so you didn’t ghost her. You just broke up with her and reminded her that she didn’t make the line up. Tough.”
“Maybe. But my heart wasn’t in it. Never is it if it isn’t with you to be honest.”
He says the words without thinking; he's forgotten this level of honest intimacy has been lost on the both of you. There’s silence now. The veggies are crackling over the stove, and if it wasn’t for your breath stuttering he would think you were gone.
“Y/N?” He says your name, low. You don’t say anything for a beat before responding,
“Yeah, I’m here.”
He pauses, hesitates before saying,
“I mean it. I know when we last spoke I said…but I just ... .I want what I thought was best for you because you know, I love you. I choose you. However and whatever that looks like. I know that seems impossible for most people but I just know you are…..we fit you and I. I don’t need to date more women to prove that.”
“David….” your voice breaks and he clears his throat before saying,
“You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I just want you to know. When you’re ready; when it's right for you, you have me forever. For better or worse, right?”
You sigh into the phone as you respond,
“Yeah. For better or worse.”
_
His love confession opens the gate to your heart.
Not drastically big.
A crack.
But a crack was all either of you ever needed.
Which is why on a Monday evening when he’s sitting in a driveway for coffee, he doesn’t think twice when he sees your name flash on his phone and picks up.
“Hey beautiful.”
He loves the way you sigh into the phone, wishes he could see the smile on your face.
“Oh hey handsome.”
“Are you okay? I know we didn't chat last night; I was planning on calling you tonight.”
“Everyting is fine; I've been busy with work,” a pause. “What are you doing this Saturday?”
“Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“Either working or not working which means I’m working off the clock.”
You giggle, it goes straight to his gut as you breath out,
“Want to be my date for a fun art opening at one of the museums.”
“Date?”
“Plus one if you don’t want to make it official.”
He moves up in line, smiles,
“No I do. I just wanted to ask you out before you did.”
“You made it kinda obvious a week ago. Just helping you along the way.”
“You think I need help?”
“I think you overthink and would wait another month before asking me out on a date.”
He rolls his eyes because maybe you were right. Possibly.
It was incredibly impressive and infuriating how much you knew him.
“Maybe. But I’d make it worth your while.”
You laugh as he clears his throat, sits up more in his seat,
“But to answer your question; I would love to. Can I treat you to dinner?”
“Are you okay with it being a late one? I have to be there earlier to support with press coordination before being able to enjoy the venue. Kinda working, kinda not.”
“I eat at all hours of the day. Don’t mind at all. And I’ll be able to see you in action.”
You giggle, its light and feminine and fuck he knows he’s ruined as he asks,
“Would your roommate mind if I stayed the night?”
“Hmm, probably not but I should ask her. She may or may not be in; she’s popular. Either way, let's plan for you staying over,” you pause for a beat. “The show will end late and after dinner I’d rather you get some shuteye versus staying up for one hour driving back to Conyers.”
David exhales as he says,
“It wouldn’t kill me but I want to see you. Let’s plan for me to stay the night but if it doesn’t work out, know that I don’t mind driving back.”
“Okay…I’ll send you the deets later? I have to go off and check on some things for the exhibit but I’m really excited I’ll be able to see you soon.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“I’ll see you soon handsome.”
“See you soon, beautiful.”
_
Saturday doesn’t seem like it could come any sooner. He focuses on work and intentionally asks for the weekend off, which takes O’Malley and half of his team off guard. He goes shopping for a brand new shirt, Sam jumps on the opportunity to take him out as he’s asked for years to upgrade David’s wardrobe and he comes home with more things he didn’t need than he does.
On Saturday, David wakes up far earlier than he needs to. He’s anxious, has a lot of energy running through his veins and the two cups of coffee he drinks doesn’t help. He’s not sure what to do; technically he had the day off, and it's when he’s debating getting breakfast or not that he gets a call from his boss to come in and support a colleague with a case.
Normally, he knows he should be annoyed. That he should create some boundary with O’Malley taking advantage of his lack of social life to support more work at the station. Except his anxiety is high; he needs something to occupy his mind, so he gives in, reluctantly.
It means he has to get ready now and leave from the station which is fine. He throws on the navy blue button up Sam had convinced him to buy a few days back, a nice pair of slacks and shoes, something that will make you proud to stand next to him. He sleeks back his hair, he had gotten a cut earlier to trim his long strands and crop the sides in the way that’s become familiar to him. He shaves enough of his beard that the shadow he knows you favor remains, throws on the cologne he knows you like.
He hopes it's enough.
He gets shit from his male colleagues the few hours he's there; David rarely looks this nice and since it's a Saturday everyone can deduct its for a woman and not court. He doesn’t mind, mainly because he’s so distracted and in between research and phone calls he gets subtle tips from colleagues he wasn’t expecting.
“If you call now, Lauren’s Flower Shop will build you a custom bouquet and probably won’t charge extra for the last minute ask.”
“If you’re doing dinner, try to find a place that can capture the skyline at night. It’s really nice.”
“Just be yourself David, you’re a great guy.”
He’s in his head by the time he’s on the road. He does end up putting in an order for the bouquet of flowers he knows is your favorite - tulips, roses, lavender, ranunculus, and snapdragons and then makes the hour drive to the museum in Philadelphia.
You’ve given him special access to employee parking, a godsend when dealing with downtown Philly, and he’s grateful that the security officer he checks in with has been expecting him.
“I’ll take you up to Y/N; she figured you’d be here a bit early.”
The older black man is nice, has a gentle smile and good sense of humor as David follows him to a back elevator.
“You know Y/N?” David’s never really understood small talk but the combination of being anxious to see you and navigating a new space has him on edge. Maybe he should have had another cup of coffee.
“Yeah, she’s been in and out the past year. One of the few people who takes the time to stop and get to know us underdogs. Brings me oatmeal chocolate chip cookies now and then which is kind of her,” he pushes a button on the elevator as they ride up, “None of her suitors ever bring her a pretty bouquet of flowers in person though. That’s a good move.”
David feels his stomach drop, can’t help the bite of jealousy hit him.
“Suitors?”
The older security guard chuckles, shakes his head as he says,
“To be clear, they pursue her. She’s less than amused. And they're lazy; they send her very stock card flowers that she usually gifts to staff around here.
You look like you took the effort to bring her something she’ll like. And, you’re the first guy she asked to look out for. Like I said, men are into her but she’s typically not into them. Busy lady.”
David nods his head slowly as the elevator dings at the top and the security guard smiles at him,
“I’m Clarence. I wouldn’t worry too much young man. I think you’ve impressed her more than you think.”
David gives a wry smile back at the man, nodding,
“Thanks Clarence.”
“No worries son. Now you’re going to follow this hallway and it’ll open up to the main space. You should be able to spot Y/N easily.”
David gives a nod, turning toward the long hall and exhaling.
This felt more overwhelming than it should. He knew you. He knew the things that made you smile, the things that annoyed you.
In the same way you knew him.
He just had to move past the many years you both had been apart.
He could do that.
When he walks out to the main area, he’s overwhelmed by the many things going on. There are vendors walking about, people who obviously work at the gallery.
And then there’s you.
You’re wearing a white dress, it clings to your curves and is paired with tan high heels. Your make up is done meticulously, in the way he’s seen in the formal photos you post online, and your hair is pulled back into a messy bun, tendrils caressing your neck.
You look professional, sexy, cool and relaxed as you navigate people and walk around chatting on your phone. He’s so distracted he doesn’t notice when someone asks,
“Can I help you?”
He drags his eyes away from you, takes in the woman whose drinking him in with mild curiosity and says,
“Yeah, I’m here to see Y/N.”
“Are you here to be apart of a report or….” she drinks in his badge, gun and he gives a neutral smile and shakes his head,
“I’m here as her date.”
“Ohhhhhhh.” her eyes flicker with something as she looks away, talks into a radio. You stop, pulling the radio that's been clipped to your hip away as you simultaneously text on your phone. You pause as you listen to what the woman says, drag your eyes across the room before they land on him.
The smile that falls on your face feels like the sun and he can’t help but smile back.
He could do this.
_________
All content was written originally by me; please do not repost, use, or market as your own work.
