Chapter Text
The patio of the diner is just as packed as the inside of the restaurant. There’s a large shade canopy overhead, protecting the customers under it. A cool breeze drifts through, ruffling fur, feathers, and hair. The gust does nothing to dissipate the warmth nesting in Lambert’s chest.
They aren’t sure what to do, and they almost laugh at the thought. They’ve been thinking that more and more often.
Narinder sits across from them, he’s staring at his menu but they can tell he’s not actually taking in anything on the page, that his mind, like theirs, is stuck on the night before in his kitchen. Lambert looks down at the table as their ears warm.
Eyes linger on their face, the bruise blossoming on their cheek, protests spill from his lips as they grab his hand and use it to pull him closer. Despite the cat’s words, he presses closer with no hesitation, burying his head in their shoulder and inhaling deeply.
“I’m okay,” they murmur softly, absentmindedly tracing over his shoulder. He squeezes them tighter in response just like he had done in the precinct. And just like before, it sends a jolt of warmth down their spine.
“Have you ever been here before?” Narinder’s voice startles them out of their thoughts.
“Oh, yeah I’ve gone here with some of my coworkers, it’s near some of their houses and it’s close to the office— ” They’re rambling a bit but the cat’s sharp stare makes it hard not to sometimes.
They clear their voice to try and get rid of some of their nervousness. It doesn’t do anything other than make their throat dry.
“It’s nice,” the cat offers, eyes turning soft. He puts his menu down, ruby-like eyes finding theirs
They hum in agreement and then their waiter approaches the table with a sunny grin.
Lambert zones out a little as they both mumble out orders and the waiter skips off with the usual ‘call me over if you need anything,” spiel.
Their mind drifts back to Narinder’s kitchen.
They’re sitting on a stool, back pressed into the counter behind them, relaxing as they watch Narinder flit about, always the worried and fretting parent. The thought has them smiling in a way that probably makes them look more than a little silly. They only grin wider.
Narinder returns with a first aid kit, his fur is a bit ruffled on his cheeks where he had been rubbing at them earlier, an anxious habit, they'd noticed. They reach out before thinking and touch his cheek to smooth the fur down.
Narinder freezes and his eyes widen at the touch and actions performed. Then they shutter closed and his shoulders slouch like a great weight has been lifted from them.
“You don’t have to— to keep—” Narinder whispers against their palm. Lambert frowns in confusion and moves their hand up to rub at his temple, the cat melts into the touch and they try not to make their glee too evident.
Narinder cracks his open and glares slightly, no real heat behind his eyes, especially when he presses further into the touch.
“You don’t have to keep pretending that we’re, y’know..”
Lambert pulls him closer and rests their forehead against his.
“Hmm, you might need to be more specific, I mean, I am concussed,” they tease, nuzzling his cheek.
They hoped that the action would have Narinder pressing closer, maybe even…
He pulls away. Lambert frowns.
“We shouldn’t do this— you’re concussed and—”
“Wha— Narinder I was just joking I’m fine,” Lambert protests, reaching back out to him. The cat allows them to grab his hands, but he doesn’t budge when they try to pull him closer.
“No, Lamb,” he says firmly.
Their shoulders slump at the worried look in his eyes.
“Okay..” they mumble, pouting a little. He’s right, they know. Frankly, they should probably be in the hospital right now, just in case, but… eh.
Narinder squeezes their hands and after a moment of hesitation, brings them to his lips and presses a kiss to each.
It takes a certain amount of self restraint for Lambert to not tackle him after that.
“So,” they start, feeling a tad bit dazed, probably a combination of the concussion, their current feelings, and exhaustion.
“We can at least say that there’s… something here, right?”
Narinder inhales softly.
“Yeah, I think we could say that,” his voice comes out lower and sort of raspy-like. Lambert likes it.
Their smile widens when they catch his eyes flicking down to their lips.
“So did the kits have fun yesterday?”
Narinder’s ears perk up and a relaxed smile finds its way onto his face, it always seems to whenever they’re brought up. It’s fascinating to watch. No, stop, he is not your psychology homework, they scold themselves. They find themselves guilty of being caught up in his mannerisms, in the way he acts and talks. His face is so typically blank and unreadable, at first they reasoned with themselves that they just wanted to be able to read him better. Now they know that that was far from the truth.
“Yes, there were some… ups and downs, especially when it came to their mother,” Narinder frowns and his eyes become somewhat distant.
“But other than that we all had a rather pleasant day, we ate the lemon cake and watched movies at home.”
“And had pizza?” They tease, an amused smile on their face.
Narinder grins back, Lambert ignores the feeling in their stomach.
“So that guy was your client?” Lambert says through a mouthful of pizza.
Narinder groans and leans back against the chair he had dragged near the kitchen counter. With his head tipped back and long neck on display, he was unfairly attractive. Even taking into account the paint stained sweatshirt he was currently wearing, he was beautiful.
“Yeah, he’s a fucking douche.” Narinder leans his head back down and takes a sip from his wine glass. He cocks a brow when Lambert snorts.
His head tilts to the side in question, combined with his indignant frown and blown pupils, it makes for a very cute image.
His questioning hum has them snapping out of it.
“Sorry, it’s just, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.” They probably don’t look sorry, their grin is wide and they are just barely containing giggles at the confused look on Narinder’s face.
Narinder’s face does a funny thing and he looks away from them.
“It’s probably the wine,” he mumbles.
Narinder huffs and smiles. He’s dressed in nicer clothes today, and so are they. They blush and grab their glass of water, the chill shocking them when it comes into contact with their skin. Turns out Narinder doesn’t have a lot of casual clothes, something that had the cat somewhat embarrassed when they went through his drawers and closet for something for Lambert to wear. Lambert had offered to just stay in what they were already wearing but the doubtful look Narinder sent their shirt (which they now realized was smattered with blood, not theirs, they note with satisfaction) they had yielded to his efforts.
So now they were in a soft sweater long enough on them to be a dress with sleeves that fell past their hands to match. The pants were somehow even more ridiculous, Narinder is a tall cat, and they are not either one of those things. They had to roll up the cuffs as many times as they could before it started looking too weird, and even then the pants were too long on them.
But. They’re comfortable, almost painfully so. The pants are a dark maroon corduroy and the sweater might actually be cashmere. They’re kind of regretting giving him back his ten yesterday.
Then they feel guilty, Narinder is a single guardian with two growing children, and it’s not like they’re broke, they just have… a lot of student loans to pay off. As in, seeing the actual number makes them physically nauseous.
Anyway, they’re getting off topic.
It was nice of him to lend them the clothes. Nicer still to offer to take them out for breakfast slash lunch. They watch him now, as he receives his plate from the waiter with a fake smile. It’s not the kind you see on pretentious jerks, more the kind you see on someone who’s unused to interacting with others and deciding to fall back on base instincts. A strange notion for a lawyer, they think. In fact he’s not like any lawyer they’ve ever met. As far as they can tell, aside from his surprising shyness, he hasn’t beat around the bush with them. Given that people typically treat them with kiddie gloves due to the status of their species it’s refreshing to say the least. It’s definitely something that has made them more comfortable around him.
They then receive their food, making them drop the line of thought.
“Ah, thanks for, uh y’know letting me stay the night,” Lambert laughs awkwardly, they’re sitting on the couch, legs tangled in the soft gray blanket Narinder had draped over them.
Narinder’s head cocked to the side, eyes squinting slightly. He was putting away the first aid kit and turning the lights out in the kitchen.
“Of course,” he says it like it’s confusing, like he would just as readily let them into his home and onto his couch without so much as a second thought.
They try not to think about the implications and fail miserably.
“Although,” he walks closer to them and settles down on the cushion only inches away from where their hooves lay under the blanket.
“I would like to know how you got into a bar fight.” His brow raises, combined with the soft glow of the lamp on the table beside them, the warmth from his proximity, and the overall domestic and homey atmosphere of Narinder’s home, makes their heart flutter gently in their chest.
They look down at their hands. This is all messing with them, they think, holding back a giddy grin.
“Ah, just an argument that ended up escalating, he threw the first punch, I decided to fight back, and just when I thought it was over he…” they trail off.
A scoff sounds out above their head.
“Bashed your head onto the counter.” Narinder fills in.
They grimace and nod, hearing it from his lips makes it sound a lot worse than it was. Granted, it definitely hurt, however it wasn’t as painful as it had likely seemed to onlookers.
“Ah, yeah but it's fine now really.” They look back up, his eyes aren’t narrowed in suspicion. He trusts them.
Narinder straightens up then, his posture becoming impeccable within seconds. “I’d like to take you out tomorrow.”
Lambert’s eyes almost pop out of their head at the forwardness.
Narinder’s eyes widen in turn and he rears back a little. “F-for lunch or breakfast or whatever you’d be partial to,” he rambles in explanation. Lambert was almost certain that if it wasn’t so dark and Narinder didn’t have black fur, they’d see a sweet blush on his cheeks.
The thought was painfully endearing.
They smiled softly. “I’d love that Narinder.” Sharing a meal with him and talking over whatever this was sounded like a good idea.
They’re weaving through the crowded tables to leave the restaurant and trying their best not to bump into anyone. Their lunch was nice, but they didn’t talk much, part of it has Lambert feeling slightly hopeless. Maybe nothing really was going to happen. It made their stomach turn inside out, their lunch settling uncomfortably.
They approached the doors to the diner, nodding to the friendly hostess as they went. Narinder pusheds the right door open and holds it while they walk out after him.
“What a gentleman,” Lambert teases with a smirk.
Narinder snorts, tail waving in amusement, before moving to walk beside them.
The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t strange or uncomfortable even, but the apprehension Lambert was feeling made it hard for them to not get a little stuck in their own head.
Eventually the two came to a stop near Narinder’s car.
Neither go to get in.
“Thank you,” Lambert blurts out, wincing when Narinder startles at the suddenness.
“I— I uh, I can call a taxi or something if this is just too much or if you don’t want to—“
“What are you talking about?” Narinder looked genuinely confused and Lambert felt their heart sink.
The words felt like pulling teeth, and they would know given their profession. “This was really nice, but if you decided you changed your mind about this, about me , then I’ll just get a separate ride.”
Narinder’s face is blank.
“Did you… not want to come on this date?”
Lambert blinks, then before they can stop it, a laugh bubbles up past their lips at the ridiculousness of it all.
Narinder isn’t laughing though, he’s staring at them in bemusement and what looks to be a touch of concern.
“Are you alright? Maybe we should have gone to the hospital after all,” Narinder worries and steps closer to them.
Still laughing slightly, the sheep shakes their head.
“I think… that we need to just flat out state what the hell we want because frankly all this dancing around is making things confusing.”
Narinder frowns and nods seriously.
“You want to date me.”
“Yes?”
“Like date date not just like a physical thing or—” Narinder chokes at that a little. Interesting.
“Yes to both,” that sounds a bit more strangled, but he’s staring them in the eyes, not backing down.
They flush and gnaw on their bottom lip before responding, it’s practically impossible to ignore the way his eyes flit to the action. So they decide not to.
They walk toward him slowly and raise a hand to cup his cheek. Narinder inhales sharply and tugs them closer by their other arm. Lambert grins at the action and looks up to meet his eyes.
“Lambert…” he breathes out and waits for them to speak, to pull away and take it all back, to reject him. The consideration has their breath halting, and before they can stop to consider their actions, they press forward and cut off Narinder’s quiet gasp.
It’s a soft press of the lips, sweet and lingering. They inhale each other's breaths, dizzy from the touch, something so foreign to them both. They only pull apart about an inch, Narinder’s eyes are lidded and theirs are fluttering when they whisper back,
“And I want to date you.”
A hand sinks into their curls and pulls them close again. Narinder crushes his lips to theirs in a way that’s so intense it takes their breath away. They almost feel like they’re drowning. But it isn’t accompanied by panic as one would expect. It’s overwhelming, yes, but in a way that invigorates them, that makes them cling tight and dare the world to take this away from them.