I apologize profusely for the cheesy title. And the random fandom lol.
Chapters: 1/4 (click EXPAND for 3k of Chapter 1)
Fandom: 未定事件簿 | Tears of Themis (Video Game)
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Yan Wei | Darius Morgan/Zuo Ran | Artem Wing
Additional Tags: Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Darius Morgan centric, Darius morgan POV, POV Zuo Ran | Artem Wing, but only a few of Artem's POV, Pining, and some of my Headcanon
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Summary:
Senior Attorney Wing and Captain Morgan have a professional working relationship that grants them to meet often, more than they meet their own friends. But Artem and Darius meet for the first time – five years later since they first met – in the cemetery.
It all started with an umbrella.
+++
+++
Senior Attorney Wing and Captain Morgan have a professional working relationship that grants them to meet often, more than they meet their friends. But Artem and Darius meet for the first time – five years later since they first met – in the cemetery.
Artem is leaving, Morgan has just arrived. It’s a cloudy morning, Big Data lab predicts that it’s going to rain heavily come noon. Their eyes meet, equally feeling awkward at seeing each other without their uniform. Artem is clad in a cream sweater over a sky-blue turtleneck and gray slacks, shockingly different than the sharper-than-knives suit he wears that no matter what time of day always looks tidy and sharp on him. Artem’s hair is down and loose instead of swept to the sides. Artem looks soft, very out of character from the stiff and strict Senior Attorney that Darius comes to know for years.
Darius barely looks any different, still unkept and tired but in jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket instead of the slacks, shirt, and trenchcoat. The bouquet of pink lilies and lilac looks off-putting in Darius’ hands as if something so delicate doesn’t belong in the hands of a brute that’s holding them.
“Hello,” Artem says, managing to look all kinds of awkward while saying one word.
Darius isn’t any better though, he’s just standing there staring, dumbfounded. “Hi,” he finally says flatly.
Aside from his looks, the second thing Darius thinks upon seeing Artem is ‘I didn’t know someone close to him recently died.’ He almost said his condolences but held back when he realizes that it was none of his business. Artem didn’t say anything, Darius deducts that perhaps a condolence from an acquaintance is the reason why. Even though they know each other for five years, they’re not close personally.
Darius nods and goes on his not-so-merry way. His destination is quite a hike and he takes his time. He had walked this path for twelve years. Everyone said that it gets better in time. Darius is still waiting for that time to come when the flowers in his hand will stop weighing a ton.
“Captain Morgan,” Calls a familiar voice. It makes Darius tense, and straightened his back, instinctually in work mode. Turning around and seeing Artem in his sweater send Darius on a whiplash, even more, when the man is handing him an umbrella. “I didn’t see any on you, it’s going to rain.” Darius looks to the sky, and it’s so dark it almost looks like it’s closer to the evening than noon, how come he didn’t notice?
Another thing Darius didn’t notice is how flustered Artem looks when the pause lingers too long. “I’m sorry if I’m being overfamiliar…”
“No no, you’re not,” Darius quickly says, eyes switching back and forth between Artem’s face and the umbrella in his hand. Darius decides to take it, he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and it’ll be bad if he’s sick around this time. He’d have to get sick leave and be alone in his apartment, alone with his thoughts at this time, that’d be nightmarish. “Thank you, I’ll give it back to you as soon as I can.”
“No rush,” Artem says, and he lingers a little before saying. “I hope I’m not crossing any lines, but I’m sorry for your loss.”
Darius doesn’t know what to say for a while. He feels nothing for Artem’s words, but he repeats robotically, “You too, my condolences.”
They exchange stiff nods and go separate ways. In the middle of the way, Darius notices the umbrella is as grey as the sky with a gunmetal sheen, it fits Artem’s personality perfectly. Darius was praying over their grave when the first drops of the rain fall. Darius opens the umbrella and was shocked when he sees the blue sky painted under the umbrella along with rainbows, pink and blue clouds, glittery sheen, and cutesy baby angel characters with harps, trumpets, cupids bow and… are those puppies and kittens they’re carrying in their baskets? Also, the illustration is very realistic and detailed, kind of like a Renaissance painting style.
“Huh.”
Never thought Artem to buy this kind of thing.
+++++
Captain Morgan: Cute umbrella.
Attorney Wing: Excuse me?
Captain Morgan: *Click to see the attached picture*
Attorney Wing: I assure you that I didn’t know that. I never use it since my colleagues gave it to me as a gift. I’m at loss as to why they gave me that.
Captain Morgan: I think you’ve been pranked.
Attorney Wing: Yes, I’ve realized that now.
Captain Morgan: Still want the umbrella back?
Attorney Wing: I’m not sure.
Captain Morgan: It’s a gift, so you should cherish it.
Attorney Wing: Are you pranking me too?
Captain Morgan: I plead not guilty.
Before he knows it, he’s texting back and forth with the attorney. Darius hates weekends, he never spent them doing anything of worth. He’d smoke, watch a movie he’s watched hundreds of times, and hang out with his cold girl Julia. If he’s lucky, he gets to work on these empty weekends. Alas, after pushing himself to those working weekends for a month, his supervisor noticed and kicks him to the curb and made him spend his weekend ‘relaxing’. Darius knows it’s just politics for ‘I’m not gonna grant you any more overtime money for this’. So, no, Darius isn’t relaxing. Or, wasn’t.
Darius doesn’t have any friends he can call close enough. He has drinking buddies but that’s an entirely different category of people than friends. Never in his wild imagination that he’d ever think that Artem can be his friend. They see each other almost every week strictly for work and it’s been five constant years of that so Darius never thought it was a possibility. Then there’s work, which they’re both too invested in whenever they met, socializing nor pandering didn’t come to mind.
And yet, the stupid umbrella is just so stupid that he can’t not bug Artem about it. He was supposed to be mourning that day, but the cupid babies loom at the corner of his eyes as the umbrella opens to dry. Darius could’ve sworn the inside of that umbrella is glowing like it has a light source. Where did Artem even find that thing?
++++
Darius never gets to return the umbrella, both of them are always too busy to remember. Darius often forgot his umbrella at home, then forgot them at the office. When he finally brings it into the glove box of his car, he forgot to mention it until Artem leaves in a hurry.
Two months later, the imprint of the ridiculous umbrella left his memory. His text with Artem bantering about the umbrella had been buried with texts about cases.
Then comes the rain.
Darius remembers to bring an umbrella today. He slips it inside this coat pocket. He’s assisting Artem and his partner, young Attorney Chris. They’re at the back garden of the victim’s mansion while Artem is inside the house investigating with one of Darius’ officers. The rain starts and he opens the umbrella to shield himself and Chris. She looks up at Darius, opening her mouth to say something until she sees the abomination that is under the umbrella. Darius even forgot that this umbrella was THAT umbrella until she was badly covering her smile and cupids dancing at the corner of his eyes.
“How come you have Artem’s umbrella?” Chris says.
“Ah, so you’re the one that gave it to him.”
At Darius' teasing smile, Chris blushes, “Uh, well, I was one of the people that suggest it, sure, but I’m not the one that constructs it.”
Darius’ eyebrows raise, “You’re saying you and another person custom-made this umbrella to prank Wing?”
“Me and three other people, yes. We just thought it was funny!” Chris says all of the sudden.
Darius can’t help the chuckle, “Yeah, it is, kinda.”
He walks Chris to Artem’s car and goes back to get Artem. Sure enough, the Attorney looks at him with wide eyes when he sees Darius with the umbrella.
“It really is offensively adorable, yet somehow artistic,” Artem says out of nowhere.
“If by artistic you mean uncanny-ly realistic, sure.”
To his surprise, Artem laughs, not noticing Darius having an internal 404 error. Had he ever seen Artem laugh? No, he had never even seen him crack a smile in all the five years they’d known each other.
Huh, so that’s what it looks like, Darius thinks, and he doesn’t look away. Not until Artem catches him staring and looks away almost sheepishly, which makes Darius thinks that he might’ve passed out at some point and dreamt all this.
“If you don’t mind,” Artem says after clearing his throat.
Darius flustered, much to his horror, “Ah, yes, let’s go.”
And it must’ve been a ridiculous sight for a gruff middle-aged man and another stiff-faced man nearing thirty to walk together in the rain under an umbrella that looks like a child’s bedsheet. Both of them can’t see how ridiculous they are, so the embarrassment doesn’t stop their conversation.
“Is this another case of a family fighting for inheritance gone bloody?” Darius asks.
“I won’t assume anything until I have all the evidence.”
Darius scoffs, “You say that, but every time they called the cops on an allegedly natural death of a rich guy, it’s always murder and it’s always about inheritance.”
“Not always,” Artem says airily.
“When? Wing, I assist you in every case you take, I know.” And doesn’t that take Darius back. He didn’t realize that yes, ever since Artem became an attorney in the city, Darius had always been the one that assist him, how did that happen?
“Premeditate opinion is a recipe for misinterpretation.”
“Ok Mr. Senior attorney, wanna bet?” Darius doesn’t know what possessed him to say that, but upon seeing Artem's playful smirk, everything is worth it.
“What would we even bet?”
Darius lits up. At some point, they stopped walking and had been standing face to face. Their chests almost touched under the umbrella too small for the two of them with the curtain of rain shutting the whole world from their private little circle. Darius looks at those dark blue eyes, mysterious like the ocean deep, they glint in mischief as if they’re hiding something. Looking at those eyes any longer, Darius would’ve drowned.
“The winner buys the other drinks,” Darius goes with the classic.
“You’re on,” Artem says with an amount of sass that Darius never knew he possessed.
Darius is completely mystified by what he just experienced. So much so that he kept looking at Artem as he steps into his car, said goodbye, and drives away into the road.
Only after a few seconds did he realize that Darius is still holding the blasted umbrella.
++++
It took a month for Artem to wrap up the case they’re betting on. The memory of the bet had been pushed to the back of Darius’ head by other responsibilities. Artem isn’t the only attorney he works with, and there’s more to police work than just investigating death and murder, there are also these damn reports.
So, it takes a few seconds to discern Artem’s text, which is a link to a news article.
‘The Evil Mistress of the Reindhart Patriarch declared Not Guilty! The shocking truth reveals a heartbreaking story of the Billionaire’s decades fight with illness.’
Attorney Wing: I win.
Darius laughs, shocking his coworkers that never once hear any joyous tone from their strict no-nonsense captain.
Captain Morgan: And I’m a man of my word. The winner picks the time and place.
Friday, 9 PM, at a place called Dionysus. It sounded posh, and honestly, what is it with this city and greek gods? They’re nowhere near Greece.
++++
The place isn’t as posh as it sounds. Darius was expecting to burn all his life savings because Artem seems like a wine guy. The name of the bar sounded like a wine place, and Darius knows wine can cost a liver and a limb.
The bar seems cozy. Earth tones, dim lighting, jazz music, couch seats. It’s getting crowded with office workers since it’s 7 PM on a Friday. Darius takes the bar seat where he can see both the emergency exit and the front entrance. Darius only waited for five minutes when Artem walks in through the door, his suit jacket in his arms.
Darius sips his whiskey to mask his instinctual gulp. This overreaction is pathetically caused by Artem without a layer of suit jacket. What is wrong with him lately? He looks at Artem and suddenly his composure takes a nosedive. He sees Artem often, sure this is the first time they meet up outside work hours –second if you count the cemetery– but Artem doesn’t look any different. Artem is Artem, which is exactly the problem now that Darius thinks of it. Artem had always been Senior Attorney Wing and he’s never just… Artem.
Hey, know what? Darius is an honest man. Artem is attractive, Darius had always found him attractive. This is only the first time that he lets himself react to it since he’s bound to his professional work ethic. There’s no harm in noticing that their colleague is attractive at the appropriate non-working hours, right?
“Sorry I’m late,” Artem says, taking the bar seat next to Darius. He smells like expensive perfume and rain.
“You’re not, hope you don’t mind me having a head start,” Darius motioned to his glass.
“I don’t mind.” Artem gestures to the bartender, “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Oh, come on, Attorney Wing. Treat yourself to the top shelf, I’m a gracious loser.”
Artem sips on his quickly-served glass of two shots of whiskey, “Aren’t the winner able to get whatever they want?”
“Hey, suit yourself.”
“Artem.”
“Hm?”
“We’re off the clock. Isn’t it weird to be so formal?”
Darius disagrees, it’s weirder to call each other by their given name after years of calling their last names tightly knit to their title, and yet, “Artem,” he says, testing the sound of Artem’s name in his mouth. “Darius, then.”
“Darius,” Artem nods with a smile.
And it’s a little pathetic how the sound of his name in Artem’s voice sent shivers down his spine.
“Well,” Darius smiles and raises his glass to Artem, “For your win. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Artem toasts his glass with Darius’.
Even though both of them are outside work hours in a bar, they’re workaholics by nature and all they talk about is work. It started with Darius asking how the case wrapped up and they went deep into investigation talk.
Sober Darius would’ve panicked being so close to Artem, watching him talk and loosen up, his hair softly falling apart from the side-swept style he kept, seeing how delicate the white shirt on Artem’s body is. Pleasantly buzzed Darius, however, shamelessly enjoys the view.
Out of nowhere, Artem chuckle, and it makes Darius chuckle too.
“What?” Darius asks.
“We’re off the clock, yet I still talk about work,” Artem sighs dejectedly.
“We’re workaholics, and I don’t mind,” Darius shrugs like it’s nothing, hoping it’ll cheer him up. “Also, you’re not much of a drinker, are you?” Darius notices that in an hour and a half they’ve been here, Artem hadn’t finished his first glass while Darius is already on his third.
Artem chuckles mirthlessly, “You caught me.”
Darius watches Artem, finding a conclusion, “You didn’t have to agree to go drinking if you didn’t want to. We could’ve gone wherever you feel comfortable in.”
“That’s the problem though,” Artem says dejectedly, finally finishing the drink. “I don’t know where to go either. I work all the time, and the only thing I do outside of work are the necessities: Sleep, bathe, eat, and…” Artem pauses at the last point, something he can’t say in public then.
“Sex?”
Artem swings his head so fast Darius thought it would spin, eyes pop open so comically that Darius laughed.
“Don’t laugh at me, you caught me off guard,” Artem huffs, his face flushed with a pretty pink tone. “I was about to say I was doing… special cases.”
Ah yes, special cases, the NXX investigation team. Darius is partially let into the knowledge of their existence, though Darius knows he was only let in so the team can do under-the-table work with him. Darius had agreed with the condition that they do him a favor in similar weight. Three years after he works with Artem and gains respect towards each other, Artem finds him trustworthy enough to know their existence. Imagine his bewilderment when he’s faced with a team of a baby-faced super spy, an aloof prince-like psychologist that talks to him like he’s a lab rat, the youngest Senior Attorney in the city, and a 19-year-old Vice-CEO of the multi-billionaire company that runs half the world.
It worked out mutually beneficial. Darius gets to pull in reasonable favors, and they get fast help from the police force and confidential files.
“Sorry, sorry,” Darius says after he calms down. “We’re both adults and it was an honest question. Some argue that sex is a necessity.”
“Not to me,” Artem says carefully, watching Darius as he says it, “It’s… no, I don’t do that casually.”
Darius is pinned to the board with Artem’s strong gaze, enjoying every moment of it. “I get it.”
“You do?”
“Uh-uh,” he says, not willing to elaborate.
“If not the bar, where would you’ve suggested we go?” Artem asks, moving on.
“The workaholic with no life asks another workaholic with no life, I suggest you refer to a different source.”
Artem scoffs, his eyes glinting with amusement, Darius pats himself on the back for that.
“You don’t seem to be worse off than me.”
“It’s not a competition, Artem,” Darius’s heart has no business skipping at saying Artem’s name. “We can suffer in our lack of life together.”
To Darius’ dismay, Artem smiles at him and blushes, “It’s not so bad then.” Oh, and that one does a number on Darius.
“Are you already drunk?”
“Maybe. I don’t have the greatest tolerance for alcohol. The last time I got drunk was humiliating, I swore to never touch alcohol again, in public.”
Darius sighs, “And you still agree to my invitation.”
“Well, it was the first time you ask me to meet up, I couldn’t say no.”
“Why couldn’t you? It would’ve been fine.”
“It wouldn’t. I’d… never mind.” Artem slumps, dejected towards himself.
Darius knocks his knee with Artem’s, getting the younger man’s rapt attention, “If you have no idea where to go because you’ve never been there, then how about going to a place you’ve been wanting to go?”
Artem is holding his breath for whatever reason. He’s leaning his face on the palm of his hand, and he seems to be hiding behind said palm. To torture him, Artem starts biting his lips before blurting out, “Dinner?”
“Sure, we could’ve gone for that.”
“Could’ve,” Artem says wistfully, “Now I have to find an excuse to ask you.”
Darius chuckles, “You’re so drunk.”
“What is it?”
“You don’t need any excuse. We can just, go.”
“We can just go,” Artem repeats as if still not believing what he hears or say.
“Yes.”
“That easy?”
“Was it supposed to be hard?”
“I don’t know, but it felt like it. I never knew how to do… you know?”
“No, I don’t know. To do what?”
“Having a casual relationship.”
“… Friends, you don’t know how to have friends.”
“I was trying to not make myself look pathetic, but you see right through me I guess.”
Darius barked a laugh, and he might’ve imagined the stars in Artem’s eyes, “Hey, I applaud you for still trying. I’ve given up at some point.”
“As my friend said to me once, it’s not a competition.”
Fandom: Tears of Themis
Reader-insert: Neutral
Pairing: Darius Morgan x reader
Genre: Romance
Warnings: None
Word Count: 600+
Song: A Hard Day’s Night by The Beatles
(a/n): miHoYo, PLEASE!!! mIhOyOoOoOoOo~ I need to date this maaaaaan mIhOyOoOoOoOo~ 😭
It was way past midnight when Darius finally stepped into the apartment after a long, exhausting day of hard work at the police station. After locking the front door and discarding his shoes, he hung his coat in the hanger by the door and made his way to the kitchen on hushed feet.
As soon as he turned the lights on, his eyes landed on the note you had left on the table. A small smile graced his lips when he read it. You were always so thoughtful and loving. He was so grateful to have you in his life, but at the same time, he felt bad. It was not uncommon for him to arrive home late in the night, and he feared he was neglecting you.
He took the lukewarm food you had prepared for him and put it in the fridge —as he was too tired to even take a bite— and made his way to the bedroom.
Quietly, Darius took off his uniform and folded it neatly before placing it on a chair next to the door. The cool air of the room chilled his exposed skin as he climbed into the bed.
You hummed wearily the moment he lay down next to you. Your eyes remained closed as you scooted closer to your lover. Your mind was still fogged with sleep when you called his name in a hushed tone.
“Dare?” you mumbled drowsily as you snuggled up against him, placing a hand on his bare chest.
Darius pressed his lips to your forehead as whispered: “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It's late.”
You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you asked: “Did you just get home?”
“Yes, it’s been a hard day… night,” he corrected himself at the last second, making you chuckle softly as your eyelids finally fluttered open.
“Welcome home,” you greeted, giving his jaw a chaste peck.
He hummed in appreciation, wrapping his strong arms around your torso. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re finally here,” you cooed before claiming his lips in a tender kiss.
“I love you, (y/n),” he susurrated against your lips before pressing another kiss to them.
“I love you too,” you purred as you buried your face on his neck, taking in his musky scent. There were no words to describe how much you had missed him.
“I’m sorry I’m late again,” he apologised, softly caressing your neck.
You heaved a short sigh, running your hand over his bare abdomen. “It’s not like you’re working overtime because you want to, Dare.”
His lips curved up into a sweet simper. Your endless patience and kindness were two of the things that made him fall head over heels for you all those years ago and the flame of his love still burnt as brightly as ever. “Thanks, (y/n).”
“Will you tell me about your day in the morning?” You queried, finally closing your sleepy eyes.
“Of course, darling. As long as you tell me about yours.” Darius gingerly threaded his fingers through your hair.
“Sounds like we’ve come to an agreement, Captain Morgan,” you quipped tiredly, peppering feather-light smooches on his shoulder and neck.
Giving your head one final kiss, he said: “Sweet dreams, (y/n).”
“Night, night, honey,” you cooed, letting his tender ministrations and his rhythmic breathing lull you to a peaceful slumber.
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Eeeeek Happy Birthday MAMAAAAA @moonlit-stargazer!!!☺😳😳! Gaaaaaaah can you believe it! How fast time flies! I hope you have a truly wonderful day mamaaaa and get spoiled rotten ❤❤😳Love you so so much mama! I hope all your dreams come true❤May this year treat you with all the love and kindness! My wish is that you put yourself first this year and take care of yourself! HOPE YOU EAT MORE CAKE AND CANDY THAN HUMANLY POSSIBLE ❤☺I Am so happy to have met and gotten to know you mamaaa! You are a truly wonderful person and ya make my heart so happy! Thanks for being such a wonderful friend! Let me stop before i get toooo sappy! ❤❤❤❤❤ also this is in collab with the wonderfully talented Albyyyyy @alby-rei ... ill link the super pretty cards tomorrow 🥺🥺🥺
The phone alarm had sounded for the 2nd time already. And Darius, with sleep riddled eyes drooping with the heavy stains of black — the true tellings of a workaholic hard at work— let go of a loud groan, blindly tapping around his desk to extinguish the menace interrupting his slumber.
He could barely lift his head from the position on his desk, crink in his neck, completely locked from the awkward position he had taken up, "resting his eyes." He knew what you would tell him if you saw him in this old man state of his, "divine punishment," and for once, he could agree; after all, slaving away over the latest case until daybreak was a hell of his own making.
You, after all, had one rule, no work after 10 pm. But this case had been on his mind since coming back from the office, and he knew if he had gone to bed last night, he might very well have spent the evening staring up at the ceiling thinking about the closed folder calling his name.
In a series of 6 alarms, the third sounded, and a dull headache started to drum against his skull. He wondered if he had just left it, if it would eventually turn itself off, or would it first wake the whole household. Between a state of wake and sleep, he managed to silence it.
With the fourth going off, he finally managed to hoist his heavy head up, supported only by the numb pillar of his arm, while the other dragged the open case file closer. Surely, he would be able to get a few more hours of grinding in before making his way to the station.
By the time alarm 5 continued on and on and on, Captain Morgan had lost a losing battle, looking very much like a drunken captain on his trusty ship, swaying with the waves on his only good leg.
Oh, but he could sense you coming, even in his drunken sleep. His partner in crime and second in command.
The Softballs of your feet hit the off-white carpet and stopping short of the door.
"I love you, Darius, I really do," despite his state, the inklings of a smile began to form as he could almost picture the way your brows pulled together, hand resting on your hip, boring a hole in the back of his head— the exact same way you always did when he neglected his health.
"Honestly, sometimes," he knew you like the palm of his hand; by now, you were shaking your head and creeping closer, the promises of a long sigh to follow.
And there it was, tickling his ears at the same time the aroma of the freshly brewed dark roast hit his nose. Oh, how he fell in love with you over and over again, especially in that moment that you silenced that wretched alarm. What would he do without you? It certainly was a miracle that he had found someone who'd put up with his shit in the first place.
"Morning," you chimed with arms looped around his shoulders, mouth pressed briefly against his past 6 O'clock shadow.
"Mornin," he rasped out the first words of the day, pulling the sides of his mouth up even further to give a lopsided grin, which immediately turned into a scowl as you swiftly left his office to get ready for your own busy day ahead.
Blindly reaching over, he brought the caffeine to his lips, and inhaled deeply, letting the caramelised nutty aroma wash over him. Coffee to him was like Rum was to thee Captain Morgan. A past self that felt like a lifetime ago yet never forgotten with permanent evidence skittered across his chest, three sheets to the wind.
He tipped to take the first sip of the day with a contented huff, and suddenly the world seemed to make sense. Bitter taste smoothed across his palate and kick-started his day.
The harsh lines indenting his face eased and smooth with each gulp, as scowl turned impassive, and finally to dimpled half-smirk.
Setting the mug down and pulling himself closer to his desk, he knew his fingers wouldn't be the only thing cracked that morning.
