Chapter Text
Friday brings quiet to the department.
A murder unsolved, not many leads, loads of dead ends, things that can wait until Monday to be looked through.
They were supposed to actually get out and do some interviewing, but the woman had cancelled, citing an errand she had to run.
Later on, Rose had found a tiktok of her at some club.
At least she was having fun, better than sitting at work and getting nowhere.
And because she was the one to find their witness, Rose insisted she be the one to schmooze her way in.
If it gets them closer to solving their murder, who was Carl to deny it?
Besides, clubs weren’t really his thing, and Rose would be able to get more out of it then he ever could.
And still, for some random reason, she took Hardy with her. Though it was more like egging him on to go with her, promising a good drink, maybe some dancing.
Carl skims through the last witness and police statements in the folder, granted they all say mostly the same thing so he doesn’t particularly pay attention to it.
Instead, what catches his eye is the man sitting at the desk across the room.
Akram.
Who’s been giving him something akin to the silent treatment, like they’re having some sort of juvenile argument.
Well, maybe not the silent treatment, but he’s been quiet.
Ever since he’d come back, it felt like he was avoiding Carl.
Though he never really could, Carl is his boss after all. Still, beyond polite conversation, case work, it’s like Akram shut off everything that relates to his personal life.
Only the surface level remains.
And for once, Carl feels like it matters what someone thinks of him.
Sure, he usually isn’t too keen on it, what can you do if someone hates you?
But it’s different.
He’s different.
And surely Akram doesn’t hate him, right?
Maybe his years of being a professional asshole finally caught up to him.
“Got any plans tonight, Akram? I’m sure the kids are excited for the weekend.”
“Nothing of importance,” Akram responds.
Damn, that got shut down quickly.
“Want to join me for dinner then? I was thinking of heading to that new pub near the park, I’ve heard good things about it.”
“I’m fine, Carl.” It comes out rather harshly. “If that’s all, I’m just going to head home.”
Akram gets up to leave, stopping when Carl quickly moves in front of him, blocking his exit. Akram doesn’t say anything, just tucks his arms at his side and stands up, ramrod straight. Almost like he’s trying to gain an advantage on Carl.
And now they’re standing close, too close. Carl can practically feel the tension radiating from Akram.
Now that they’re closer, Carl can see the tightness in Akram’s shoulders. They’re raised far too high for a man who is supposedly fine.
And he’s not daring to even look into Carl’s eyes.
Tentatively, Carl raises a hand to Akram’s shoulder, running his thumb across it. The furrows of his coat feel nice under his hand.
“Are you alright? You’ve been quieter, and as much as I enjoy a break from the general yapping of our neat little team here, I’m— we’re worried about you.”
“Don’t be, please,” Akram meets Carl’s eyes. There’s so much contained in that vast darkness.
And he’ll never say it aloud, that’d just be embarrassing, but they’re beautiful.
Something about his eyes make him want to fall apart into a pile of sludge at his feet.
“Talk to me then, indulge me over dinner. If not for you, then for me.”
Akram mulls it over for a moment, then sighs, “Alright then. But I’ve got to be home by nine.”
“The girls gave you a curfew? Worried you’ll be out too late with your friends?” Carl jokes.
A small smile, though not quite reaching his eyes, finally makes an appearance. “Funny, but no. It’s just a silly show we watch together.”
“Well you’ve got to tell me all about it then, we’ve got the next three hours to chat,” Carl says, giving Akram’s shoulder a small pat and smoothing out his coat.
————————
Not unusual for a Friday evening, the pub is bustling with patrons.
Thankfully, they’re not the loud and drunk kind. Personally, Carl finds he’s too old for those kinds of things. He’ll get drunk, but he isn’t one to linger until closing. He prefers just walking it off as he heads home.
They find a booth rather quickly, surrounded by the Edinburgh work population winding down after a long week.
A nicely-dressed young man comes by and hands them menus, before swiftly walking to another bundle of tables in the corner.
College kid, by the looks of it.
Carl tucks his chin onto his palm. “You know, I was just like that when I was younger. Scrawny, eager to please. Though it was the police academy for me, rather than serving at a pub. What about you? What was little Akram like?”
“Oh you know, I was a kid. I have three brothers, older than me. So you can guess how that went most of the time.”
“Youngest of four, I would have never guessed,” Carl shrugs. “Sometimes I think you just popped into the world fully grown with all your Syrian Police expertise.”
“Youngest of five actually, I had a sister. She was honestly the kindest person I’d ever met. Though, you’d never know it if you never talked to her. That woman could probably kill someone with just a look, but it was all a front.” Akram huffs out a small laugh. “Kind of like you. Well, she definitely wasn’t as rude and brash as you typically are, but she did have her moments.”
“She’s since passed?”
“Yes, she was sick,” Akram says, not giving any further.
Carl doesn’t pry.
He continues, “I was fifteen, she was twenty three. But even as she was dying, she still kept being positive. Even in death her light didn’t go out, in fact, it seemed like it only got stronger.”
“What was her name?”
“Rama.”
“You named your daughter after...” Carl trails off, he didn’t necessarily want to outright say it, but it looks like Akram gets the idea.
“My dead sister?”
Carl nods.
“It was only natural. My wife was actually the one to suggest it. She wanted to honor her memory. I honestly couldn’t care what we named her, I was just excited I was going to be a father. But then when she came into this world I knew. I knew that my sister was with me, she was watching over me at that moment. She would have wanted the little girl I held in my arms to carry on her name.”
Carl won’t lie, that story might have brought a tear to his eye. Maybe even one had wiggled loose and was making its way down his face.
He quickly wipes it away with his sleeve.
“That was uh—“ He clears his throat. “Quite the story I will say.”
“You did ask about little Akram.”
“That I did. And I’ll file that knowledge into what little I have about you. What about Akram now? How is he?”
“He’s fine.”
And there’s that clipped tone again.
He’s definitely not fine.
Carl doesn’t have time to respond as the waiter comes back to take their orders.
Guess he’ll have to solve this mystery later on.
————————
“I’ve got this, I’m the one who dragged you out here. It’s only fair that I cover the bill,” Carl snatches the bill in a quick succession while placing his card into the pocket. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can get it next time.”
The waiter takes the bill and returns several moments later, a pen in hand.
Akram nods and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He types something quick and shuts it off.
“Your kids?” Carl asks as he signs the check.
“Mina, but nothing too important. Just memes and cats. What you’d usually expect from an eleven year old who’s addicted to cats in tiny hats.” He turns on the phone and shows it to Carl.
“Huh, they’re pretty cute. Says here this one’s name is Balatro.” Carl points to a carddeck-carrying cat wearing a funny mustache. “And then, and I quote, it's literally you followed by several sparkle emojis. Is that what having girls feels like?”
“Yes, all the time. But I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m assuming Jasper doesn’t text you like this?”
“Sometimes. Most often it’s can you pick this up, or can you drive me somewhere. Occasionally he asks for help with homework and what not. A lot of food-related texts though. That boy is never not hungry, makes you wonder what they’re putting in the kids these days that make them shoot up like a beanstalk. But I guess that’s just teen boys for you.”
They settle into a content silence.
“Thank you, Carl. For dinner, it was nice.”
“No problem, I’m always happy to treat a colleague.”
“We both know that’s a lie, but I’ll let it slide since you insisted on paying. Though I should go now, I wouldn't want to keep the girls waiting for me.”
He makes a beeline for the door and steps outside, quickly followed behind by Carl.
“I can drive you, if you want. It’s ten minutes from the station, it’ll be no inconvenience to me at all.”
Akram stops just short of the crosswalk. “I’m starting to think you’re avoiding something. Why spend so much time with me when you can just go home?”
“I’m just being nice, why does that have to come with something?”
Akram takes a sharp inhale in, almost like a string has been cut inside of him or a click went off in his brain. It’s such a stark contrast from his previously calm demeanor.
There’s something different in his eyes, and his jaw is tense, shut tight. And he clears his throat once, twice.
Is this him losing the control he claims to have?
“Why are you being so nice to me? Since when does Carl Morck do something nice without anything attached to it?”
Carl stays silent, no answer coming from his mouth other than the opening and subsequent closing of it.
“You have been acting strange all night, and you’ve been getting me to tell you things that I haven’t even thought of since my wife died!” He raises an accusing finger in Carl’s face. “You- you’re doing something to me, and I’m not even sure why I’m angry about it!”
Akram seems to want to storm off, because he does, but only to come back a moment later. He rubs a shaking hand over his face. “You just make things easy, Carl! You’re an ass, but you’re easy to talk to. But I also can’t look at you without seeing you bleeding out into the floor in front of me; I can’t sleep without seeing my daughter’s body coated in blood! But then you come in, and all I want to do is just cry and tell you that I’m terrified and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m supposed to be composed, competent. But I’m not even sure what I am, who I am, anymore. How can you trust me? How can you trust me when I can’t even keep it together because I saw someone die?”
Akram sniffs and then starts to cry, much like that day in the car. He scrubs his face with his coat sleeve, trying to dispel the tears falling from his eyes.
“Akram?”
“Please, Carl. Just—“ Akram digs his palms into his eyes as his breaths quicken. “I just need to think for a moment, that’s all.”
And now, what Carl does next, if ever asked he’ll resort to saying it was a part of his “Patented Carl Morck Emotional Support Service”, but in actuality, it was far deeper than that.
He takes Akram’s shaky hands in his and places a small kiss on them.
“Just breathe with me for a second here,” Carl takes a demonstrative breath in and out. Akram follows suit, to the best of his ability. He continues, “I’d trust you with my life, Akram. Hell, I’d probably trust you with more than that. There’s no one, and I really mean no one, that I’d want by my side. I’ve been where you’re at, and it’s scary; it feels like you’re alone in this. But you’re not.”
Akram lets out a shaky breath, “You can’t just say things like that when you’re the one to talk.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. But you don’t have to be alone, not anymore.”
Akram takes a large breath in, then lets it out. “I lied,” he confesses. “About my girls. They’re not home. I sent them to a close friend of mine after you came over and left. I told them that I’m off on another work trip. I couldn’t face them, I couldn’t look at them. And I didn’t want to scare them. I was so awful to them, Carl. They’re going to hate me when they find out.” He leans forward, resting his head on Carl’s shoulder. His arms follow suit, wrapping around Carl’s middle and holding on tight. “I’m a terrible father. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I even think that was a good idea?”
“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Carl shushes Akram, running a hand along his back. “You did what you thought was best. I don’t blame you for that, and I’m sure your girls won’t either,” Carl takes Akram’s face in his hands, still all teary-eyed and tinged pink. “You’re a good dad, better than I’ll ever be. Don’t ever tell yourself you're not.”
A flash of something comes across Akram’s dark eyes. Carl isn’t quite sure what it is. That is, until he feels himself get tugged forward and a mouth planted firmly on his.
Oh.
Oh.
And as quickly as it started, Akram pulls away.
Carl’s still standing there, eyes wide open, his hands still on Akram’s face.
“Shit,“ Akram shoves Carl away. “Shit, Carl. I—,” He puts a palm to his face. “Fuck, I didn’t mean—“
Akram begins pacing and running a hand through his hair, tousling up the thick dark strands.
“You uh-“ Carl blinks. He’s not really sure what to say. All he knows is that he definitely wants to do that again.
“Um, I think we should do that again,” He blurts out.
Akram’s pacing is momentarily stopped. He looks back at Carl with wide eyes.
Honestly, Carl is shocked that he even admitted that.
A moment of tense stillness then—
“Ah, fuck it.” Carl quickly moves forward and grabs Akram by the shoulders, pulling him close until his mouth is on his again.
Well, that’s one wait to go at it.
Carl’s hands move down to the lapels of Akram’s coat. Grabbing, and grabbing until he’s got fistfuls of fabric and it’s just Akram. Like mind, body, and soul all morphed into one thought running through his mind.
Akram.
That is the only thought running through Carl’s mind, like a repeating decimal, or a vinyl stuck on loop.
Akram tugs his hands through the shaggy strands of Carl’s hair. His hands slide against his neck, pressing into the small circular scars behind his ear and beneath his jaw. It makes Carl shudder at the sudden contact. It feels as though he can’t get enough of him, and it takes everything in him not to want to just melt into a pile of goo on the sidewalk.
God, he could spend forever kissing Akram.
But unfortunately, the need for air becomes very apparent.
Carl pulls back enough to rest his forehead on Akram’s, his breath heavy and hot. He closes his eyes again for a moment, taking in the scents surrounding him, most notably the smell of Akram’s shampoo. A smell he can’t quite place but it’s reminiscent of something nutty or sweet.
Once he opens them, blue eyes meet black. And the world feels like it stops for a moment.
“You are only the second man I’ve ever kissed,” Akram says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Carl brings a hand up to cup Akram’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear that fell from his eye. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re my third. I’m not particularly skilled in this area either.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No, not at all. Do you?”
A deep, cavernous swell of anxiety pools in Carl’s gut.
“No, I don’t. But I’m still-“ He stops, looks down, considering something for a moment. “I’m still terrified. I look over my shoulder, expecting something. It’s not normal, it’s not right, from where I’m from. But here, it’s not so bad. For someone like me, someone like us.” Akram’s hand brushes against Carl’s. “And maybe I want there to be an us. If you’d have me.”
He says it almost shyly, something so different from the Akram that Carl’s used to seeing.
Carl’s breath hitches in his chest.
Carl wants this, has wanted this. For however long since he began feeling this. He doesn’t even know how long he’d been feeling it, just all of the sudden it was there and all-consuming.
“I’d have you, I want you,” Carl replies, taking Akram’s hand in his. “I can’t say that it’ll be all peaches and rainbows and things, but I’m willing to try. Give this thing we’ve got going on a chance.”
“You’re quite the poet, Carl Morck. It's almost like you actually have feelings buried under all that,” Akram pokes a finger at Carl’s chest. “Spiky exterior.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Akram laughs in response. A true, hearty laugh that sends Carl’s heart soaring.
“God, if Rose, or even Hardy, could see us now. She’d probably have an aneurysm trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was completely right about my love life. And Hardy would probably smack me upside the head and joke about me going all soft for the rest of our lives.”
“So you’d be okay with telling them?”
“Eh, let’s give it some time. Besides, it’d be fun to see how long we could last under the radar. As far as I know, Rose still thinks I’m hopelessly pining after you like a lovesick puppy.”
“Oh, and how long was that going on for? The hopeless pining.”
“I wouldn’t really call it that. It wasn’t as dramatic as she’s throwing it out to be.”
“Then what was it? Because I seem to recall not that long ago, you were paying so little attention to your surroundings because of a certain someone to the point of almost falling flat on your face.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Carl sighs. “You got me there.”
Akram gives Carl’s hand a squeeze. “I think it’s cute. I can’t say I've ever had someone trip over a desk chair because of me.”
“So your wife never did anything embarrassing in your early stages. I’m sure something funny must have happened.”
“Oh no, it was mostly me. If I recall correctly, I once spilled an entire coffee on her when she was studying late one night. She had her hair up and I just thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
“Let me guess, you slipped on a rug or something.”
Akram struggles to speak through the giggles starting to bubble up. “Worse. I got there just fine, but then she grabbed my hand as I was putting the mug down. I was so shocked that I dropped the mug right onto her lap.”
Carl has to press a hand onto his mouth to try and keep himself from laughing at the misfortune.
“I—“ Carl laughs, he can’t help it. “Wow, I-,” he pauses to wipe the tears from his eyes and catch his breath. “I would have never guessed someone like you would do that.”
“And I didn’t even help her clean it up! I just ran away and hid in my room for two days. She was so mad. Her brother even came to my home to demand I apologize.”
“I can only assume how that went, since you ended up getting married and everything.”
“It wasn’t perfect, but she did appreciate my attempt at helping her out. Then, the rest is history.”
“It sounds like she was wonderful.”
“She was,” Akram brings their joined hands up to his lips and kisses them. “But that was the past. This, this is now. I don’t want to be so held back by my past that I miss what’s right in front of me.”
“Now who’s the poet?”
Akram lightly swats at Carl’s arm. “I’m trying to be romantic. We can both be sappy old men if we want to.”
“Says the man without an inkling of grey to be found.” To even further his point, Carl runs a finger through a section of Akram’s hair.
“I’m just blessed with eternal beauty then, unlike some people.”
“You calling me ugly?” Carl sighs dramatically and places a hand on his chest. “You wound me.”
“Oh yeah, totally ugly.” Akram rolls his eyes. “I wonder how the world can even look at you.”
“And yet you do.”
Akram hums in agreement. “And yet I do.”
“Let me take you home. We can get your girls on the way. I’m sure they’d love to see their dad,” Carl says, again.
An intake of breath in, and a release out. Akram smiles. “I’d like that.”