An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“I suppose I’m not helping,” Narinder smiled.
“No, you… Kind of are,” Kylie muttered, before they turned towards him. “I…”
He knew this expression on Kylie’s face by now. The gentle worry written around his eyes, easy to turn into a stressed grimace, but now slipping into hesitation. A conflict behind their eyes, as they thought about something they really didn’t want to do or say. Narinder waited, slightly worried by the anticipation, until the sheep finally didn’t move.
For some reason, time felt like it flew more slowly.
The officer’s hand resting between them. The soft hum of the AC, the gentle smell of leather. The quiet hanging between them, when Kylie stared at him with something that looked like a deeply stubborn intent.
Narinder crooked his head again, this time pulling a cheeky smirk.
“If you want to tell me you fell in love with me, wait until you hear how badly my wife will strip me in the divorce,” he joked.
