Work Text:
Shiro knows being the new guy at work means you get stuck with shit jobs. Didn’t matter who he was at his old precinct–didn’t matter his track history or reputation. Some people recognized his work, and most certainly Shiro wasn’t starting from the dirt like every officer straight out of the academy. As fond as his memories as a beat cop were, he was a detective now and the new precinct didn’t change that.
But the new kid on the block was always greeted with the side work. It was about trust. No one at this place really knew Shiro yet. So, while his newly assigned partner checked in at the evidence locker, Shiro was handed off the corpse–assumed victim of an overdose. The guy had been young and, despite the years and desensitization, Shiro had a knot in his throat the whole way to the morgue.
The kid was the same age as Shiro’s younger brother. He wondered if the kid had family, friends–wondered how he had grown up and everything that connected and disconnected in his life to lead him there.
Shiro carted the body bag along. It helped to depersonalize them when they were all zipped up and faceless, as crude as it sounded. It was a part of the job. Shiro couldn’t let death cloud his judgement. Logic solved cases, and Shiro would solve this kid’s case.
When he entered the morgue, there was only one person there–a guy in a lab coat, leafing through some files in a cabinet at the back of the room. Shiro wrapped his knuckles on the open door, not wanting to barrel in with the loud cart and startle the diener. The guy jumped anyway, pivoting around with eyebrows all the way up into his hair. When he saw Shiro at the door, he put a hand on his hip, brows coming down to furrow a bit.
“What’s up?” he asked, then saw the cart behind him. “Oh, bring it in.”
But Shiro was frozen. His brain was screaming a little. The guy was cute- fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-
The guy had gone back to looking through the cabinet before noticing Shiro hadn’t moved. It wasn’t until he was approaching that Shiro’s limbs seemed to work again.
“Did you need help with it…” the diener asked, and Shiro took a quick look down at his name badge. Matt.
“No,” he choked out, turning around to grab at the cart. His eyes bored into the plain black material of the bag. “I got it,” he said, and pulled it in. Matt sidestepped, pointing to a corner of the room where metal cabinets lined the walls.
Shiro wheeled it over, then stood awkwardly between it and a counter with a sink and an array of tools he couldn’t begin to describe. When he looked back, Matt was leaning on the desk next to the door, where a lamp shone on a disorganized mess of papers spilling out of a file.
“So, new guy?”
Shiro nodded, wondering where his voice had gone. He hadn’t gotten like this with a crush since high school.
“Nice. Then we’ll be seeing each other a bit until they stop giving you the grunt work,” Matt said, pushing up his glasses and offering a smile. “I’m Matt, by the way. What’s your name, dorito man?”
“Dorito man?” Shiro asked, shocked out of his silence.
And, to Shiro’s further surprise, the guy’s cheeks began to dust with pink, eyes darting down to Shiro’s chest and up quickly. Shiro felt his own face heating up.
“You’re shaped like a Dorito, dude.” Matt tugged at his lap coat a bit. “You must know. That kind of thing doesn’t just happen.”
Shiro looked down, like he’d be able to see what Matt could. He just saw his chest. “Uh, yeah…” he trailed off, not sure what else could be said. This was going great.
“So,” Matt prompted. “Your name?”
Shit. Right. “Shiro. Detective Takashi Shirogane, but people call me Shiro.”
“Cool name,” Matt nodded, pushing at his glasses again. “It’s a compliment, by the way. The dorito thing. Dorito is a good shape.”
“….thanks.”
For a minute, they stood there–silent, Shiro shifting on his feet and Matt pushing up his glasses, tugging at one of the papers on the desk behind him. Shiro was about to speak up, dismiss himself, when Matt beat him to it.
“Oh man, I’m fucking awkward.”
“What?” Shiro asked. But he’d been the one making things awkward. Shiro was the one who couldn’t get his voice to work, or manage past two words answers. Shiro was the one gay-panicking over here.
“Sorry about that. It happens.” Matt shrugged, trying to look unaffected. “I am an awkward man. It can’t be helped.”
Shiro shook his head. “You aren’t making it awkward. Not at all.” He was reluctant to confess his own awkwardness. Matt was a braver man, it seemed. Or maybe more versed in awkward chats.
“Oh,” Matt said, then stuffed his hands into the lab coat’s pockets. He shrugged, definitely acting awkward now. “That’s good.”
Shiro’s throat was tight. God, this guy was cute.
“Well, yeah. Well,” Shiro said and looked towards the door, back to Matt. Matt seemed to get the memo. “I guess I should get going.”
“Yeah. Totally.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Shiro said, shuffling toward the door.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Matt said, then paused. “I mean, obviously I hope we don’t get a sudden influx of corpses, but I mean…”
“Yeah,” Shiro nodded. He understood. Really, he did.
Shiro stood at the door and the desk was now separating them. He messed with the badge that hung from his neck, tapping the metal part with his nail. Oh God, could he just leave already? Why wouldn’t his legs take him out of here? Why didn’t he just move?
There was a part of him that was reluctant to move away from the diener.
“Maybe I’ll come around sometime without a cadaver for you,” Shiro offered, and, wow, those words were a lot braver than he really felt. But to watch the half-smile, genuine but small, grow on Matt’s face was worth it.
Matt pulled a lock of his chestnut hair out of his face, flipping it behind his ear. The way he looked at Shiro was mesmerizing.
“I’d like that,” he said. Shiro was floating.
And he continued to float, right on out of the morgue. When the door separated them, Shiro had to take a moment, stare wide-eyed at the dull opposite wall and let his empty thoughts loose.
They screamed and panicked, but, most of all, they cheered. They cheered like a choir in church, happy for life, happy for peace, happy to be happy.
And poor Shiro–one awkward conversation later and he was smitten.