Work Text:
It isn’t uncommon for partnership to bleed over into personal life in more intimate ways. As a technically volunteer organization and not a government run body, the RCM had less of an official opinion on this type of relationship than might be expected. For the officers within it, conventional wisdom was that while workplace relationship drama was always best avoided, the strength of a deep partnership was inevitably going to lend itself to romantic relationships and it was pointless to dispute it. There is, after all, nothing more important inside the RCM than your commitment and trust in your fellow officers - and above all, your partner.
You’re not sure yet if this inevitability is heading in your direction as well - not certain of your own feelings, not certain of his. And yet. There's a sense that you're being pulled together towards some kind of attractor, a destination unknown. You can feel it. A comfort in the air. Something instinctive - because while it's never been spoken of, the detective part of your brain spins away compiling evidence. Dropping your title more often to simply call you 'Harry', looser and more relaxed posture when it's just the two of you together, and most of all how personal space becomes less and less of a concept the longer you and Kim work together.
Even from the start, he’s had an endearing if somewhat domineering habit of positioning himself behind you to peer over your shoulder at anything you might be inspecting or writing. At first you thought he was making sure you didn’t write entirely inappropriate case notes (which you’ll admit is a valid concern). But he’ll also move up behind you to read any scrap of newsprint or printed testimony you’ve got in your hands, even if you’re already reading it aloud. You don’t feel like he’d appreciate you pointing it out but secretly, it’s kind of cute - you’re taller than him by just enough he has to subtly lean up on his toes to see over your shoulder. (And if sometimes you're out together on a cold day, and he's close enough you swear you can feel the warmth of him at your back even without touching - well, he doesn't need to know how much many hours you may have spent considering THAT mind project.)
Tonight, you and Kim are burning the midnight oil. You've got one shot at getting a crucial testimony tomorrow and you're considering it from every angle ahead of time to ensure you don't end up wasting it. Everyone else in C Wing has long gone home - the lamp over your adjacent desks an oasis of light in a dark floor, save for passing halogen beams from the street creating long and sporadic shadows. Honestly, if it was just you, you'd have gone home hours ago - thrown up your hands and said fuck it, I'll wing it, what's the worst that could happen? Some weak muscle in your back has decided to seize up in a way no amount of stretching will relieve, your eyes sting the more you try to demand they focus, and your body has generally organized into some anatomical union to demand better standards of living and question what the fuck could be worth denying them their much needed rest.
You look up from your casefile to the answer to that question. Kim Kitsuragi, caught at this moment in one of those passing halogen rays, highlighted in blinding relief. His brow is furrowed, bags under his eyes and exhaustion clear in his posture, and yet he is still scribbling in his notebook with a focus that he is forcing onto himself in a intimidating display of mind over matter. Formerly the finest of the 57th, now the finest of the 41st as far as you're concerned, that someone this dedicated and good end up as your partner and has chosen to keep being your partner is a small miracle. (After all, the last good man you were lucky enough to call your partner was so burned by that arrangement that half of the times you enter a room he’s in, he gets right up and leaves it; the other half of the time there is... a lot of yelling.)
Suddenly Kim looks up from his notes, blinking owlishly as you make eye contact. You're staring Harry-boy, and have been for a while. Looking down and busying yourself with your casebook in a flurry of undirected but extensive page flipping, you're not sure just how completely busted you are. Pretty busted, probably. Subtly has never been your strong suit. Patience doesn't come easily to you either; You peek back up, needing to know what Kim is thinking, and find the situation reversed - Kim staring at you, seemingly deep in thought, and then looking away with an awkward cough when you catch his eye. "I know we're both tired, I won't keep you much longer detective. I think just one more run through the timeline?" Kim asks, apologetic, though you wave in what's intended as some vague reassuring gesture as you flip through to the relevant notes. "Nah, I don't mind a bit of late night policing, not if it's with you," you offer, and that was maybe a bit more honest than you were aiming for - but it does take work to filter the deluge in your mind into something socially acceptable, you're lucky you didn't say something worse considering how much Kim-related detritus is floating around in there these days.
Finally flipping to the correct page you brandish it triumphantly, clearing your throat and beginning to read aloud, while Kim makes his way between the desks and to his place behind your shoulder. Lowering your stance a bit in your typical accommodation for his backseat reading habit, you're caught by surprise when Kim steps right into your space and leans on you, chest along your back, chin hooked over your shoulder. Thankfully your own exhaustion suppresses the urge to physically panic at the unexpected (but not unwelcome) touch, just stumbling over your words a little but somehow managing to press on. Like this is normal. Just two partners working late. Doing a kind of standing half-cuddle. Reviewing case notes. Mega normal. Normal as shit.
Adjusting your stance a little to provide a more solid foundation to lean on, Kim surprises you again by taking advantage of it, nuzzling his head into your back and wrapping his arms loosely around you. His left hand settles on your hip, an anchor point as he goes almost limp against you and lets you take his body weight. Thank god you're still built like someone who'd choose a life in physical education, and Kim is lighter than you'd have expected, his stylishly broad clothing hiding his smaller frame (a note to yourself, use the 'building camaraderie' excuse to make sure Kim eats more.) There's a little exhale of a sigh accompanying Kim's relaxation against you, the sound of a wall coming down you hadn't even really known was up.
You though - you're still a little bit of a mess in your head, even as your body holds firm. Supportive, sure, but stiff in the joints, rigid posture, uncomfortably still like you’re afraid that any move you take will be the wrong one. What do you even do here? What do you want this to be? You do want this , whatever this is. Can't risk compromising it, can’t fail to acknowledge this vulnerability he’s sharing with you, but can't risk pushing too far and losing it all. Like he can hear your thoughts spiraling Kim tightening his grip on your hip just a bit ( oh ) and asks softly, "is this alright?" Ball's in your court Harry. What do you want?
A question you’ve certainly spent a lot of time mulling over as you’ve settled into this second chance at a life. You know you want him in your life. But as what? A lover? Platonic life partner? NON-platonic life partner? Best friend that is also down to cuddle? The future before you is so broad it dwarfs you, glimpses of moments coming to you as you let your mind wander this temporal landscape. You feel lost in it - unmoored not just by the indecision but by the chance that in every possible path taken you can misstep and lose him. It’s too much to bear and time is passing, he’s just waiting, you might be losing him right now Harry you need to PICK something!
It’s the tiniest sensation that dredges you out of the quagmire of your thoughts - such a minuscule thing compared to this crushing weight of choices and failures on your mind. Kim’s hand, where it’s resting against your hip, moving in a comforting motion - his thumb rubbing small circles, so small you’re not even certain he knows he’s doing it. Something in you loosens, sending a tremble through you which he answers with another gentle squeeze of his arms around you. Driven by an urge you’re too tired to question you move, his grip loosening to give you space to turn around - not letting you go, but letting you face him, hands trailing along your waist. You look down at him, at his tired but fond eyes, waiting for you to answer him with attentive patience. Suddenly the pieces fall into place, a thought completing, disparate feelings and concepts being revealed as aspects of a cohesive whole you’re now able to see.
It’s not about knowing what you want this to be forever and always. It’s not about casting your mind as far as you can throw it and picking a distant end goal to launch yourself at. With this, with him, it’s enough to know: what do you want right now? If you can know this, can feel out each moment, can pursue what feels right - then you can trust him and trust your partnership, that it will take you both to wherever you need to be.
The smile that breaks across your face is unintentional, and a bit closer to The Expression than you’d prefer - but Kim responds with a small smile of his own, relief at having not crossed a boundary, because while you may not know exactly what ideas are detailed in his notebook the way they rattle around in your head, you’re obviously not the only one putting thought into what your partnership should be. After so much contemplation it’s strange how it feels like the easiest thing in the world to wrap your own arm around his waist, drawing the two of you closer together. To turn and rest your lips gently against his head which nestles against your chest. To let them rest there, somewhere between a kiss and a simple point of contact, while your own hand runs comfortingly up and down Kim’s side. Awaiting the moment of panic and doubt you find it doesn’t come - tired contentment all that you pick up, from yourself and from him.
It stretches, a quiet and gentle eternity in the haze of exhaustion and shared affection, until Kim suddenly stiffens and yawns, burying his face further into your chest in a mix of embarrassment and tenderness. In the nights you’d considered what it would be like to take him into your arms you always dreaded the moment you’d have to let go, the time when he’d leave - but as he pulls back and rubs at his eyes under his glasses, it doesn’t feel like leaving, or ending. The feeling of connection, the pull between your heart and his, still feels changed and stronger - physical distance unimportant in comparison. He isn’t going far, and you know - you’ll have this again. Perhaps even very soon, you realize, as Kim mumbles “much as I’m enjoying this, we should probably call it a night Harry, while we can still keep our eyes open.”
“We could just sleep here, if you’d like. Get an earlier start in the morning. Not have to worry about getting home. I know for a fact that the reason Jean has that ugly couch crammed into his office is because he takes naps in there when he’s got a night shift.” ( Why you know this is of course lost to you like so many things, but the fact remains.) Kim mulls it over but not for long, another yawn breaking through and setting you off as well, your eyes running as the exhaustion seeps in. “Yes, alright. Good idea. But if Jean is the one to wake us up, you have to explain why we’re sleeping together on his couch,” Kim says, tired but with a mischievous glint in his eye, extending a hand towards you - which you take, a hint of blush reddening your already perpetually red cheeks, as your fingers wrap in his and he pulls you gently out of the radius of the papers and notebooks and case files, out of the circle of incandescent light and into the diffusely lit darkness.
Tiredness and propriety limit your nocturnal routine to simply stripping out of your shoes and jackets, and looking at the well worn couch shoved into the corner - made more for one person than for two - you decide to trust your gut in the moment once again and lie down first, on your back. Kim considers you for a moment, room too dark to read his expression. Then you see the slight glint of his glasses as he carefully removes them and settles them precisely onto Jean’s desk. Of all the moments you’ve shared tonight, this act of vulnerability feels the most intimate, even with him standing on the other side of the office, you lying in the dark and trying to see him as best you can.
Crossing the office he settles in on top of you like this isn’t something new, head on your chest near your heart, your arms coming up to wrap around him. This. This is what you want, in this moment with him. And as he relaxes above you, listening to the beating of your heart, you know this is what he wants as well. The morning will bring new possibilities, new avenues for whatever this thing between you might be - but whatever they will be, you’ll find your way through them together. For once, you don’t dream about the past. You don’t even dream about your winding and unknown future. For once, all you dream about is tomorrow - nothing more, and nothing less.