Chapter Text
He noticed it before she did.
Her pulse didn’t jump the same way it did the first dozen times he walked into the room. The blood didn’t rush to her cheeks, or creep up her neck, the crimson flush absent even when he tried his hardest to fluster her. And it normally took next to nothing to get her to turn into a bumbling mess.
Something was off, and he found himself curious to find out what exactly it was.
And he hated that.
He was the opposite of an obsessive person, so it annoyed the hell out of him that he was fixating on her so much.
Why did he give a fuck about her micro-expressions? Who cares that her pupils didn’t dilate as wide as they used to? Who cares if her breath didn’t hitch as loudly in her throat when he called her sweetheart?
Not him.
God, that was a fucking lie, and he knew it. It infuriated him that he couldn’t let it go. That it was nagging at him. That he couldn’t shake the pestering feeling. That her happiness had become a thorn in his side.
He didn’t know why he showed up to her apartment. He just… did.
After perching on the roof of the warehouse, blazing through a pack of cigarettes, gazing out at the treetops, comforting silence enveloping his normally overstimulated senses – he still couldn’t shake his thoughts of her.
Fucking weird, considering that was his ideal night. And it was ruined by the detective. The human that he warned not to get attached.
Mason was a lot of things, but never a hypocrite. This was new territory for him.
The heavy rainfall scraped against his skin like shattered glass, the freezing temperature adding an extra layer of sensory torture.
The rain stained the chest of his grey henley, droplets beading up and sliding off of the faux leather sleeves of his jacket. He retired his real leather jacket when she scrunched her face at it, clearly upset with the ethics of animal products, blah blah blah. He sucked it up and bought a new one – not because he cared. He just didn’t wanna hear her whine.
He sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, eager to get inside.
With a heavier hand than he intended to, he rapped his knuckles across the wood with his right hand, his left arm pressed against the top door frame.
Sofía opened it, her expression one of genuine confusion. He couldn’t blame her. Usually they coordinated booty calls.
“Mason? Jesus Christ, it’s 3 a.m… What are you doing here?” She squinted, wiping sleep from her eyes with the crook of her finger.
“Can’t a guy drop by for a visit?”
“Depends if it’s business or pleasure.”
He quirked a brow at her, smirking. “Depends what you want out of me, sweetheart.”
He wasn’t sure if she intended on him catching the subtle fluttering of her lids as she glanced away, but he did. Usually her defiant eyerolls turned him on, but there was something negative about it that made his chest twinge involuntarily.
“Come in,” she sighed, pushing the door open, walking towards her kitchen without a second glance.
She was wearing his favorite pajama shorts that hugged her ass just right, and he couldn’t resist a couple glances at it, ignoring the godawful neon cheetah print pattern on the fabric.
He stepped inside, kicking the door shut with the back of his boot while he shrugged off his damp jacket, shuddering when the air conditioning hit his damp shirt.
She was insufferably hot natured, which meant her apartment was always freezing, regardless of the temperature outside.
He didn’t mind it when they were working up a sweat, but it stung his skin just as much as the active storm did.
He stopped at the open doorway to the kitchen, watching as she bent down to grab her water filter from the fridge. When she stood straight up, and he noticed the loose tank she wore, he decided why he’d headed over.
He definitely didn’t head over with the intention of fucking her brains out, but how could he resist when she looked like… that.
She poured herself a glass and tossed it back, throat pulsing as she gulped it down. And when she tossed the cup into her sink, tongue darting out at her corners to catch stray droplets, he couldn’t hold back.
He strode over to her, lightning fast, standing directly behind her. He splayed a hand across her stomach, teasing his pinky finger into the waistband of her shorts, satisfied when her breath hitched in her throat.
Normally he’d have to tug her long thick hair to the side to pepper kisses across her neck, but thankfully she already had it tied up in a messy bun, flyaways pointing to all the places on her neck that he could adorn with marks.
“Is this really why you’re here?” She asked, clearly annoyed, as he was trailing kisses up the side of her neck.
He shrugged. “Maybe. Why? Disappointed?”
“No.”
She was rigid in his grip, pushing his hand away from her stomach. She wheeled on him, expression angry. “What do you want from me, really? Just tell me.”
“Damn, where’d all of this come from?” He laughed breathily, leaning back against the counter. He tried keeping a casual composure as best as he could, but he was completely taken aback.
She blew out a huff of air, bracing her arms on the edge of the sink, gripping until her arms shook.
“Do you like me?”
He couldn’t help the way his lip curled, like her words left a bad taste in his mouth. He crossed his arms, tilting his head, not saying a word.
“I thought so,” she sighed deeply. “We really need to talk.”
“Before or after?” He smirked, cocking his head towards her bedroom. It was so easy to fuck with her, even moreso when she was annoyed.
“That’s what this is about.”
He arched a brow, waiting for her to respond. She met his gaze with a firm one of her own, eyes fiery and determined.
“Look, I’m just not cut out for… this,” she motioned between them. “Whatever it is. I thought I was, but I can’t handle it.”
“This?”
“Yes, this. The whole hook-up-but-leave-before-I-wake-up-and-pretend-I-don’t-exist type of shit.”
Before he could think about it, he shrugged. If deflection was his default, and snark was his defense, shrugging was his signature move.
“So you really don’t care? LIke at all?” Her lips tightened, chin dimpling as she narrowed her eyes at him.
So expressive. Why she wore her heart on her sleeve, he’d never understand.
“Told you not to get attached, sweetheart.”
Her jaw popped open, so fast that her tongue clacked against the roof of her mouth. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, looking the most angry he’d ever seen her.
“Why are you so fucking condescending all the time? Jesus Christ, I swear I don’t know why I ever thought sweetheart was endearing in the first place,” she scoffed, hands shaking at her sides.
Ouch. He’d only meant it to be condescending half of the time. Probably a bad choice of words, but she had to know he was messing with her… right? He shook off the thought. No reason to linger on it.
She sighed heavily, and it bugged the hell out of him. Why was she sighing at him so much? “I need some space.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”
“Can you shut the fuck up for two seconds? Seriously, the one time I need you to actually listen to me, you’re giving me snide comments like a child,” she nearly growled at him.
She’s usually so level headed. Why the hell was she letting her temper get the best of her?
He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding to keep himself from being quiet. He was gonna let her let it all out without defending himself. Just this once.
“I’ve been thinking about you way too much and I can’t let this affect my work or my life or…” she trailed off, glancing away for the first time. “Forget it.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you have something to say, say it.” Okay, maybe one freebie.
“Nothing I say will get through to you in the first place, so why should I waste my breath?” She shrugged, flailing her hands and letting them slap against her thighs.
He arched a brow defiantly, keeping his exterior calm, despite how difficult it was to look like he didn’t give a shit while she was hurling her feelings at him.
“You want me to say it? Okay, fine. I want you more than you want me. And I deserve better than that. You warned me and I should’ve listened, and now I need space,” she held his gaze, the look in her eye unwavering. “I don’t want you to ruin me for other people.”
His lip curled, betraying his demeanor. He tried masking it by popping a cigarette between his lips.
“It isn’t your fault, but I’m gonna ruin myself if I keep giving myself hope that I know isn’t there,” she chewed the inside of her lip, using her fingertips to push her bangs out of the way of her glasses.
She’d deflated a little bit, her anger dissolving into sympathy. God, he hated how clearly he could read her. She couldn’t hold anything back. She was an open book that he had no trouble browsing. He could skim the pages, pick out his favorite passages, and bookmark them, and she was completely oblivious.
She didn’t even tell him to put out his cigarette.
He took a long, rebellious drag and blew a stream of smoke out, pursing his lips so it nearly hit her in the face. “That’s it?”
Her eyes widened, face contorting into an expression of fury, of pain, of exhaustion, that he distinctly remembered from her lowest points. He felt a twinge of guilt, but otherwise didn’t change his physical stance, relaxed and nonchalant.
Her hand darted out to grab the cigarette, but he’d already flicked the bud into her sink.
She sighed, eyes glassy, walking out of the kitchen, shouldering past him towards the front door. She opened it, wordlessly pointing outside. “Get out."
“You sure you don’t want one last round?” He joked, hands shoved into his pockets.
“As much as I’d love to say yes, I can’t handle my heart breaking again,” she laughed humorlessly, motioning again. “Get out, Mason.”
What the fuck did she mean, again?
He stalked out of the apartment, left heel nearly slammed in the door.
Damn, she was livid. But she’d come around. She was always upset after they hooked up, but she always came back.
He tried to keep that in mind as he heard the sniffles through the door, trying not to wonder if that was the first time she’d spilled tears over him.
----
The angry tears fell before she could even slide the lock closed.
Why the fuck did she even bring any of that up? She said she was going to wait until she had more of an argument and could form coherent thoughts.
Her thoughts ran a mile a minute, and she had to get them out somehow. She stumbled back to her room, snatching her phone off of her nightstand and dialing his number before she could chicken out.
“Hey, Sofía! Why are you up so late –”
“Mason showed up at my doorstep expecting to sleep with me and I exploded on him,” she said through her soft sobs.
“Oh, hey, wait, are you crying?”
“Yeah, but I’ll be okay. I just need to vent,” she lied, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes.
“You don’t sound okay…”
“I… I’m not feeling so great. I’m starting to regret yelling at him.”
An ear-splitting cackle rang out through the speaker of her phone. “You’re too nice for your own good, detective.”
His laugh was enveloping, like sunshine – if you were caught in its rays, you couldn’t help but bask in it. She let herself enjoy it, if only for a moment, before letting her feelings about Mason settle into her bones again.
“We talked about this, though. You wanted him to see where you were coming from, right?”
“Yeah, but I, uh, let my temper get the best of me,” she chewed the inside of her lip, picking at a loose string on the quilt on her bed.
“So… he probably didn’t listen, huh?”
“Surprise, surprise,” she muttered, sniffling. “I really wanted this to work out. I don’t know why the hell I expected more.”
Her voice broke, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.
“Awe, hey, it’ll be okay! You planning on going back to sleep right now or would you like a handsome distraction?”
She laughed, rolling her eyes, thankful he couldn’t see her cheeks flush. “No, I’m awake for the day… I think.”
“Alright, I’m heading over now, and I’m bringing some movies. You want some of the kettle corn I popped earlier? It’s charred but maybe we could pick out some of the good pieces –”
“I’d love that, Felix.”
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If there was one thing Felix couldn’t do, it was stay still.
Even with the detective’s cheek pressed against his shoulder, lips parted, a serene expression on her soft features, he still tapped his foot incessantly, squirming in place.
C’mon hold it together for a little longer , he thought, drumming his fingers on his leg. Humans only need 8 hours of sleep right? Or was it 7? Maybe 4? Whatever.
He checked the clock on her wall, watching the seconds tick by. And when the second hand hit twelve, he gently shook her, noting how soft the skin of her arms were.
“Sofía? Hey, it’s pretty late,” he whispered, watching as her brows furrowed, and she cracked open one eyelid, arching her back into a stretch.
“What time is it?” She croaked.
“Twelve.”
She sat up quickly, eyes widening, lines etched into her face from the denim of his jacket. “You stayed here all night?”
“Well, yeah,” He said matter-of-factly. “You fell asleep on my shoulder halfway through the first movie, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I just stayed.”
Her expression was sheepish, and he had no idea why. He really didn’t mind that she cuddled up to him… in fact, he really, really liked it. After what she’d been through the night before, he didn’t blame her for passing out from exhaustion.
“I’m really sorry for passing out on you like that,” she glanced away, not able to meet his eye.
“It’s no big deal. I got to binge watch all the Back To The Future movies and lemme just say, kinda makes me wish I would’ve fallen through the portal sooner so I could’ve lived during the eighties. I’m definitely going as Marty for Halloween, by the way,” he nodded contentedly, standing up from the couch.
She jumped up too, rushing to her kitchen, deftly moving around, whipping together a quick breakfast and coffee, like a well-oiled machine of one. She ripped her hair out of the bun piled on top of her head, shaking her head around and trying to rake her fingers through it simultaneously.
He caught himself staring at the way her wispy bangs framed her face, her length cascading down her back, the sleek silkiness of her hair practically beckoning for him to reach out and run his own fingers through it.
“Have you ever celebrated Halloween?” She asked, breaking his trance, as she poured herself a cup of coffee, taking a quick bite of her bagel.
“No, not like I want to,” he deflated a bit, screwing his lips to the side. “I know I’m a ‘grown up’–” he used air quotes around the word, “– but I wanna go trick or treating.”
“Wayhaven PD usually teams up with the elementary school and we do a mini-festival in the parking lot, with food, games, costumes, trick or treating… it’s great,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I’ll definitely take you.”
His amber eyes brightened even more as a grin stretched across his face. “Really?” His voice rose an octave, and he could barely contain his joy. “You’re the best. Wait, should we do matching costumes? Oh my gosh. There’s so much to plan. It’s so soon!”
She swallowed her bite of food, holding back a laugh. “It’s fine, Felix. I swear we have time.”
He scrunched his nose. “Okay, I believe you.”
“I’ve got to go in a sec. I was supposed to meet Tina downtown today and I’m already late,” she checked the clock on the wall, blowing air upwards at her bangs in frustration.
“I’m sorry I have to cut this short. I really liked having you over,” she smiled shyly at him, and a little spark ignited in his chest, spreading warmth throughout his limbs, all the way to the tip of his fingers.
“I liked it, too,” he grinned even wider, stepping close to her.
Her breath hitched in her throat and she stood frozen in place, coffee cup in hand, shoulders raised.
“Felix…” she breathed, her eyes fluttering as she trained her gaze on his lips. She involuntarily leaned forward, nearly closing the gap between them.
“Yeah, Sofía?” he whispered, smile morphing into a near smirk.
“Do you think it’s really over between us?” She blinked, looking down at the floor.
His heart ached in his chest, head clearing immediately. Oh God, did I really forget that’s why I came here? I’m supposed to be helping her, not swooping in to sink my teeth into her like some sort of… Felix. Cheap joke. Don’t finish that sentence.
“I really don’t know,” he leaned back, searching her eyes, trying to show how sincere he was. “He’s never been around a girl long enough for them to dump him first.”
She sighed, the bottom of her mug clinking against the dark linoleum countertop. “Yeah, I figured.”
“Well, don’t give up now! When he gets in one of his moods, he just needs some time to come around, you know?” He scratched his head, pinching and twisting his curls between his fingers, fiddling with his beanie.
“I… don’t know if I want him to come around,” she chewed the inside of her lip, pushing her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose.
“You mean that?”
He must’ve looked surprised, because she sighed and took her glasses off, covering her face with her hands, scrubbing her skin with her palms.
“I just don’t know what the fuck I want,” she shook her head, bending over to prop her elbows against the counter, hands still over her face. Her voice came out muffled and pained, and he furrowed his brows, closing the distance between them to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders.
She turned in his grip, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, her breath tickling the exposed skin of his neck, right above his scarf.
“Of course,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, revelling in the warmth of her bare skin.
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