Sweet love, my oldest friend or drinking, kissing in the street we couldn't get enough ❤️
You’ve known Greg for a long time, since the two of you walked a beat back in Brixton. You’ve been through some tough times together, his stabbing, your beating. You were both divorced, the job taking up too much of your time to maintain a functioning relationship.
That’s why you find each other in a wine bar just around the corner from your apartment. He’s just closed a case and you’ve just received a promotion to DCI. The two of you are celebrating. You’ve commemorated all of your important moments with this man, he’s been a feature in your life since the beginning.
It’s as he walks you home that it happens. You’re both a little tipsy, he’s got his arm looped around your shoulders to steady you as you laugh at something ridiculous that Anderson has said. You tilt your head up and the light catches you just right.
You’re beautiful, he’s always thought so. He thinks your ex-husband must be a fool for letting you go, for throwing away your marriage so he could fuck a hot yoga instructor from Sussex.
“Greg, why have we never…”
His lips are on yours before you can finish the question, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. It’s tender and soft, a simple brush of the lips, but it’s everything.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time.” He whispers, his fingertips guiding your chin up so he can look into your eyes. The edges of your mouth tip up into a smile, before you take his hand, guiding him towards your apartment building.
“Come upstairs with me.” You say with that twinkle in your eye. “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to do.”