Tracking thieves is a difficult job, but the experience imparts some useful skills. Carmelita rarely has trouble keeping silent when she has to.
So she’s able to exercise the due care when she comes home at 1AM.
She’s fine. Well-used to long hours and overtime. But she doesn’t want to disturb her boyfriend, especially since he has a major exam coming up. Carmelita moves slowly as she unlocks the front door, slipping in silently.
She stops. The lights are on.
Instantly, she’s prepared for anything. It’s probably fine. But he never leaves the lights on accidentally. Too thrifty. Something’s wrong.
Ears high, one hand near her pistol, Carmelita creeps forward. Still silent.
She soon finds him, hunched over his usual desk. Awake, alive. But while her worst fears crawl back, the sight is far from relaxing.
“That’s not allowed, because it’s a violation of proper procedure under Article 13 Subsection 45b...” He checks the answer and hisses. “Idiot. Idiot. Article 13 Subsection 47c. Stupid stupid stupid how do you not get this-!”
Carmelita lets out a breath. “Nick.”
“Agh!” He turns, spotting her. His eyes are wild. Tired. “Carmelita, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in-”
“Easy, Nick, easy...”
Carmelita keeps her voice low, drawing close. She pours herself onto him. Her hands flowing down his arms, her head nuzzled against his.
“What are you doing?” Not accusatory. Just questioning. “It’s late. You need sleep.”
“What I need is to pass this exam. Otherwise I’ll never get this promotion and I’ll be stuck ticketing cars until I die.”
She pulls back, tilting her head. “I didn’t realize you were so career-focused.”
“I wasn’t. Not really.” His eyes are on the floor. “But you’re an Inspector with Interpol. You can’t date a traffic cop forever. You shouldn’t.”
Her eyes widen. “Nick...”
“I...” His mouth twists. She can tell he’s trying to hide his emotions, but he doesn’t have the iron grip he once did. “...I just want to be good enough for you.”
She stares for a moment. Then her gaze softens. “Well, I have good news.”
She runs her fingers down his head, behind his ear. Her hand settles on his cheek, and she gently strokes him with her thumb.
“You are.”
Whatever reply Nick tries to make doesn’t form. He just sits there, caught on every word.
“Nick, try to ignore your anxiety. Use that wonderful brain of yours instead.” She holds his gaze. “Do you think our relationship got this far on pity? All the nights we shared, getting this apartment together... Need I remind you that I made the first move?”
Nick manages a nervous grin. “Yeah. ‘Cause I was way too scared to.”
“Exactly.”
She keeps rubbing his fur, the motion rhythmic.
“I love you,” she murmurs. “And there’s only one thing I’d change about you. How much you worry about yourself.”
“I love you too. So much! And I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I just...”
“I know, Nick. I know.”
She moves closer, planting a kiss on his forehead. He smiles. It’s genuine.
“Now. You’re not going to make any progress this late, and we’re both tired. Come to bed. That’s an order.”
Nick, being Nick, somehow manages to visibly relax and snap to attention at the same time. “Yes, Madame Inspector. Right away.”
“Good boy.”
