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Kieran had had no intention of attending the office Christmas party. It was not as though he was opposed to such gatherings, nor that he was not particularly social, or friendly with the characters that occupied the office. In fact, if he were just an Archivist, he might even have called them friends rather than connections that might one day prove to be a hindrance. He certainly understood why Lauren liked them. Lauren was why he didn’t want to go, and why despite his better judgment, he was here drinking the worst champagne he’d ever had the misfortune of passing his lips which Kym and Lila had been able to acquire from the local grocery store with their limited budget.
Lauren had asked him to come. He’d been surprised, shocked really, when she’d asked him after they’d finished up the plan for the week. Somehow Christmas was free. Apparently, crime took a holiday. Well, she didn’t ask him in so many words. A human lie detector Lauren might be, but she was rarely honest about what she expected of him unless he had done something wrong. Then she was very clear about what she wanted generally in the form of her knee. She’d mentioned the party and how she hadn’t gotten to spend time with her friends like this in a while. He’d suggested she go. She’d asked if he was going. He’d said he’d declined. Lauren’s lips had pressed together, and while he’d never say it to her face her eyes looked pensive. “It’ll be suspicious if my ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t go,” she said with a resigned sigh. He hadn’t the heart to do that to her, so here he was.
And Lauren seemed to be having a great time.
Technically there was an APD wide party that they had all been invited to, but no one felt the desire to acquire fancy clothes. Instead, Kym, somehow, managed to convince Hermann to let them use the office and have a smaller gathering. Earlier that day Kieran and Will had pushed the desks out of the way while Lila and Kym had made colored paper chains. Lauren had been tasked with making snowflakes and putting them up with the good stapler they’d taken from the archive. It looked nice. It looked festive with the chains looped around the central light and snowflakes hanging down from the ceiling. Kym had put mistletoe over one of the doors. Kieran had seen and was consciously avoiding that door, even if he currently leaned against the frame. It’d already caught Lucas and Lila who had made everyone panic, even Kym, before Lucas humored Lila with a quick kiss before grumbling off to get more coffee. Lila still had not recovered.
Even though the drinks were bad, poured liberally into plastic flutes Lila had found at the store, because apparently drinking out of coffee cups was tacky, the food was delicious. Everyone had been tasked with bringing something, so there was a good variety of meats, and cheeses on top of sweets. Lila was a surprisingly excellent baker and though the thumbprint cookies were awful for maintaining a healthy weight he would be getting the recipe. There was music too. Kieran’s donation had been his record player and Will had brought vinyls from home of Christmas carols.
After a spirited rendition of “Deck the Halls” that Kym had started and quickly spread around the room, Lauren came to rest inside the door frame next to Kieran. She was flushed in exuberance, or maybe the drink, and laughing as she leaned against him. Kieran set aside his flute so he could laugh with her. He was surprised she leaned against him. He was surprised she was willing to be that close to him.
“Having fun?” he asked.
Lauren glanced up at him and he lost the air in his lungs to how beautiful she looked. She’d started the night with her hair in a bun, tightly wound, but over the course of the evening, it had begun to unravel so stray hairs stuck to her face. She’d worn makeup, not that she needed any, that brightened her lips that he longed to taste the flavor of. Her dress, while not the high-class affair of the party they were all abdicating, was still a party dress, cut lower than what she wore to work. It wasn’t enough to tantalize but it gave him ideas and hopes. Worst of all was her smile, brilliant, and carefree, and all for him, which stole his heart and would not return it.
“I am,” she teased. “Are you?”
Kieran gave her a wry grin. “I am, actually.”
“And you weren’t going to come.”
He laughed. “I couldn’t leave my ‘girlfriend’ alone could I.”
Lauren was about to say something wry in response when they both heard the telltale laugh of a meddling Kym and froze. The music had changed. “Holly Jolly Christmas” had started.
“Oh, ho, the mistletoe hung where you can see—” slipped out of the record player as Lauren’s eyes widened in response to realizing where she was standing.
“Lauren,” Kym purred in the sing-songy voice of someone about to cause mischief on purpose. “You’re standing under the mistletoe.”
Lauren glared at Kieran like this was somehow his fault, which to be fair was not a wholly inaccurate statement. While he may have been standing there because it gave him the best view of the room, a not insignificant part of him had hoped it might provide an opportunity to kiss her. Still, he wouldn’t force her, and asked with his eyes if she wanted him to make up an excuse. Lauren shook her head knowing full well what his “excuses” to her coworkers looked like, and that it would look weird if they were hesitant to kiss considering they were supposed to be head over heels.
Kym had drawn up, near enough Kieran could have reached out and touched her shoulder, dragging a protesting William along, whose words Kieran didn’t hear as he leaned into Lauren.
He put his fingers gently on her cheek, sliding them under her chin to tilt it up. She gave to him, followed where he led, as he leaned in. He hesitated though, right before their lips touched, one last chance to say no. Kieran glanced at her to see she was almost impatient with him, so he closed the gap, and pressed his lips to hers. It felt as good as he thought it would, hoped it might. She was warm and her lips were soft. His grip on her cheek tightened only slightly as he restrained himself from deepening the kiss. He could taste the champagne on her lips, the sweets, and a flavor uniquely her own he wanted to addict himself to. He wanted to drown in her, but instead, he pulled back. His hand lingered on her cheek a moment too long. He hadn’t even smudged her lipstick. Her eyes had fluttered closed and it took a moment too long for them to open. He wouldn’t flatter himself and think the blush that had spread across her cheek was his doing even if he desperately hoped it was.
“Wow that was—” Kym said as she tried to summon the word she was looking for.
“Kym, let's leave them alone,” Will said as he took a step forward and ahold of her shoulder.
Lauren and Kieran exchanged a look and an idea.
Lauren extended her foot, tripping Will who staggered into the space she’d left behind when Kieran had stepped back and pulled Lauren against him. He pushed Kym after Will for good measure. She fell against Will’s back, who’d grabbed the door frame to stop himself from falling completely.
“Oh no, Kym,” Lauren teased, “You’re under the mistletoe.”
The tight hold Kym had on the back of Will’s shirt seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright as all the blood not strictly necessary for life-sustaining functions rushed to her face. She stammered, “I—Lauren, hey, that’s not fair, I mean, Will wouldn’t—I’m not going to embarrass him by—"
Will had recovered enough to not need the door to stand. He glanced over his shoulder at Kym, who was rapidly unraveling, and took a step forward so he could turn and free himself of her hold. She didn’t seem to notice, her hands still held in the same tight position as she looked at Lauren trying to explain herself. His face burned. He glanced at Kym, at the mistletoe, at the ground. Kym still hadn’t stopped talking, explaining all the reasons he wouldn’t kiss her. She hadn’t looked at him. Will grabbed her chin, getting her attention finally, and kissed her.
It wasn’t a chaste kiss. It started as one, but maybe it was the drinks, or the spirit of the season, or another source of enthusiasm, but Will pushed Kym back into the frame of the door as her fingers went up around his shoulders to tangle in his hair. His free hand found its way to her hip that he gripped tightly. When they pulled back, they were panting. Their faces were burning.
“You talk too much, Kym,” Will said, his lips barely far enough from hers to make the words heard.
Kym looked prepared to melt into the floor. “Will I—”
It seemed to don on Will then what he’d done. He stepped back, leaving Kym to sag against the door frame without him supporting her, and said, “I uh—I’m going to go help, Lucas.” He then dashed off with nary a backward glance.
Kym touched her lips, still burning from the kiss, as she looked at Lauren. Her face was burning too as a bystander to her friend’s intimate moment, but quickly gestured at Kym to go after him. Kym took a moment more to gather herself before calling as she raced after him, “Wait! Will, you can’t just do that and leave! What was that about?!”
Kieran leaned over Lauren’s shoulder to peer down the hallway. “Do you think they’ll be ok?”
Lauren looked up at him and shrugged. “Kym will.”
He meant Will. Kym, he was sure would be fine. Will, he was pretty sure was going to die.
Kieran realized how close they were standing then, him holding her against him, as he leaned so his face was near her ear. He let go and stepped back retreating to his drink that he finished in a few gulps. He missed the subtle disappointment on Lauren’s face.
When he glanced around Kieran realized they were alone. Lila had been busying herself with the food wrapping it up, but she was gone now. Perhaps she’d gone to find Lucas and finish what they started earlier. Kym and Will were certainly going to be a while.
The opening notes of “Baby it’s cold outside” started to play and Kieran turned to Lauren still standing against the wall. He offered his hand. “Care to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?” he asked.
Lauren’s lip quirked as she stepped away from the wall and placed her hand in his. “Is he a good dancer?”
“I have it on good authority he is,” Kieran said as he brought her fingers to his lips before leading her to the center of the room.
It was a slow foxtrot, an easy tempo to follow, as Kieran hummed the words under his breath. They chased each other around the room, the rise and fall of their steps a dance in of itself, as they navigated the small space, pivoting and swirling. Occasionally, he released her to turn on her own under his arm, her dress flaring out as she went, before returning securely to his hold. It was after one such turn, as she returned him, they leaned into each other, the final notes of the song played, and left taking the moment with it. They hesitated for a moment, each holding the other tightly, before they let go and stepped back.
Kieran let go first leaving Lauren’s arms to fall away to her sides. Even though he’d taken a step back she was still standing close, too close, to be platonic. She was close enough that he could easily gather her back up and finish the kiss from earlier that had only whetted his appetite, and if he were a man who flattered him, she’d seemed disappointed hadn’t lasted longer too. But he didn’t.
“I got you something,” Lauren said finally, before stepping back and brushing past him.
Kieran watched her pass, felt her arm graze his, so once she was out of reach, he ran his hand up over his face and into his hair. This was going to kill him. “You didn’t need to,” he said. She’d gotten him something. She’d thought of him.
“Are you saying you don’t want it?” Lauren teased, but he could hear the notes of hurt.
“Never,” he said as he turned to see her sitting on her desk as she leaned over so she could rifle through her drawer. She was having a hard time with it as her desk was one of several that had ended up directly pressed against the wall.
He smiled and walked over to where he’d left his coat and his own gift for her bundled.
Originally, he’d planned on getting her a scarf. She was chronically cold, and she seemed the type to prefer a practical gift over anything else. He had picked one out, a forest green that would match the pallet of colors she wore and her hair, had it in his hands, and was going to join the line to pay for it when he thought better of it. Why would she want a gift that every time she wrapped it around her neck, she would think of him, and his hands, as they had almost strangled the life out of her? He’d put it back and left.
So, a scarf was off the table. He’d considered getting her gloves. The last time they’d had to scout a place out, an impromptu stakeout of sorts, Lauren had spent most of the time when she wasn’t using the binoculars blowing on her hands.
“Don’t you have gloves, officer?” he’d asked dryly as his own leather-clad fingers turned the pages of his book. He wasn’t reading it. He’d read it so many times he didn’t need to use his eyes to know what came next. It was more the comfort of holding it as much as the story. It was why when he was upset, when he came home covered in blood, when he was trying to ignore how Lauren was unconsciously leaning against him for warmth in the bitter cold while her breathing fogged up their hiding spot, he turned to it.
“I do,” she’d snapped before adding even softer, “I forgot them.”
“You knew we were going to be outside,” he’d chided.
Lauren had glared at him. “I’m aware.”
“And yet—”
“Shut up, subordinate,” she’d muttered and glanced briefly at his hands. “Be good for something won’t you? What are you reading?”
Kieran had followed her eyes before tugging off one of his gloves to hand to her. He’d expect her to take it, not place her smaller hand in his. “Jesus Christ, Lauren,” he’d muttered as he curled his hand around hers and began to rub warmth back into it. “You’re going to get frostbite.”
“I probably already have frostbite,” she’d said with a sigh as she showed him her other hand speckled with white.
He’d given her an exasperated look and brought her fingers, so they were cupped under his against his mouth. He’d blown on them like he could breathe life back into them before giving up and putting them behind his neck. His whole body had shivered rejecting the cold, his book abandoned, as he ignored how wide her eyes were. He knew what this reminded her of. If she weren’t irresponsible, he wouldn’t need to be so drastic.
After a few minutes when her fingers were not the icy cold of death, she’d withdrawn them from behind his head but not from his hands. They fit so well in his. He could have gotten her new gloves, nice ones made of leather and fur to keep her warm, that she wouldn’t lose or forget, but how could he lose the opportunity to casually touch her like this? How could he lose the opportunity to have her depend on him?
“What are you reading?” she’d asked softly like it would cut the tension.
It did.
He hadn’t answered, only let one of her hands go so he could pass her the book. It was worn enough the bindings barely held the cover on. The pages themselves weren’t dog eared but showed their age, and some were unfortunately speckled with blood from when he hadn’t fully cleaned his hands in his enthusiasm for the calm the book offered.
In the dim light of the streetlamp, Lauren had seemed to recognize the cover. She’d let go of his other hand to stroke the front of the book as her eyes brightened. “Oh, I know this book!” she’d said. “I’ve been looking for a copy.”
“You might be out of luck then, darling,” he’d said softly as he’d held out his hand and she’d passed the book back to him. “It’s out of print.”
Lauren had frowned as he put the book in his pocket and reapplied his gloves. “Well, that’s a shame,” she’d said before standing up. “There’s our guy. Let’s go.”
Eventually, Lauren wrestled his gift free, a pair of packages neatly wrapped in brightly colored paper, and presented them to him. She seemed surprised that he was presenting her one in return. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a cord rather than taped. She seemed surprised he was standing so close.
“You didn’t need to get me something,” she said.
“Are you saying you don’t want it?” he asked a perfect parrot.
Lauren narrowed her eyes at him as she took it and pressed her own gift into his hands.
He grinned. “Need a knife?”
Lauren reached and grabbed her letter cutter from her open drawer. “I got it; besides, archivists don’t carry knives,” she chided.
“Oh, do they not?” he said with dry amusement as he put the larger package under his arm and rolled the smaller one over so he could get the tape with his nail.
“I believe you’re supposed to rip it,” she teased.
He quirked his lip. “And ruin the paper so lovingly applied? Never.”
Lauren pursed her lips but said nothing as she opened her own gift with the knife.
Appreciation swelled in his heart as he opened the first gift. It was a set of charcoals in a metal tin. The larger gift proved to be a sketchbook. They were a set.
“The sketches you did of Tim Sake, and the cigar woman were very good, and I saw you had done some others, so I thought you’d like another sketchbook. I wasn’t sure where you were at with your current one,” Lauren said too quickly like she needed to explain herself to him. “If you don’t like it I can—”
“Lauren, I love it,” he said, giving her a smile as he flipped through the set of blank pages. It was a hefty book with good paper. “This couldn’t have been cheap.”
Lauren shrugged but he detected a small blush. What was that about?
The last bit of the cord holding Kieran’s gift together gave with a pop, and a rustle of paper as Lauren removed the sheet. He treasured the small gasp she made.
“Kieran, this is your book,” she said looking up at him.
He’d had it rebound in red leather and personalized it by adding illustrations of his favorite parts. He couldn’t help but notice as he was flipping through to find good parts to draw that the characters looked like them. He hoped she didn’t notice.
He laughed despite how tight his hand was on the hem of his shirt. “It’s yours.”
Lauren ran her hand over the cover. “I…I can’t accept this.”
“I want you to,” he admitted, and hoped she didn’t hear it as a lie. He was nervous to give it to her. He would miss it. He would miss the comfort it brought him. But she was his comfort, and her joy meant the world to him.
Her eyes widened and he hoped, intently, that she heard his earnestness. It was uncommon for him. He could feel his face burning and he hated it, but her cheeks had darkened, and he liked that very much.
Lauren ran her hand over the cover again before opening the book up and flipped through it. “You illustrated it,” she said with surprise. “How long did this take you?”
“A couple of weeks.” It’d been a month. But he didn’t care if she heard that as a lie or not.
Lauren set the book down. “I wasn’t aware you were so talented,” she said.
“Sparked your interest in me, darling?” he teased.
“Hardly,” she said as she got up.
What was she—Kieran didn’t get the opportunity to finish the thought as he was interrupted by a wrap on the door frame.
It was Will. He looked a mess. His normally well-kept hair was ruffled, his tie undone along with some of the buttons, and Kym’s lipstick had left color behind on the corner of his lips. Kieran could see Kym behind him holding on to his arm hiding. Perhaps so no one could see the darkening marks on her neck. As much as Will was a mess he looked, for the first time in Kieran’s recollection of him, happy.
“I, uh,” he started before closing his mouth again. “We couldn’t find Lucas and Lila, and I think they left. But we were going to go. Do you mind cleaning up?”
Kym was practically pulling Will away who somehow managed to not move.
Lauren and Kieran glanced at each other and shrugged.
“Sure,” Kieran said. “Go have fun.”
Will looked like he would hug them provided the opportunity as Kym dragged him off. They could hear the fading sounds of the lyrics of “Baby it’s cold outside.”
“At least we’re not messy,” Lauren said dryly as she looked around.
Kieran chuckled. “There is that.”
Since Lila had already put the food away it wasn’t too much trouble to put the office back together. Lauren put his record player in the archive since he’d said he’d bring it home later. He wanted to walk home, burn off some of the energy of the evening, and it was a lot to carry.
Kieran had gotten a few of the desks back in their homes, it was a lot without assistance, but he was an assassin, and he could handle himself just fine, when Lauren returned. Her face carried with it a story. “What’s wrong?” he asked, straightening up.
Lauren looked at him and shook her head. “You’re going to have an interesting Monday.”
He quirked a brow and glanced down the hallway she’d come from. He fielded his question to her with his eyes. “Who do you think it was?”
Lauren gestured noncommittally. “I’m not going to guess.”
He bet it was Will and Kym. He liked Kym a lot but considering how quick and easily she’d sexually harassed him until she thought he was Lauren’s boyfriend she seemed like a bit of a freak. Will equally so but that seemed like a new development.
“Do you need help?” Lauren asked as Kieran tugged another desk back into place. He just had a few more to go.
“I’ve got it.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “If I wait for you, we’ll be here all night.”
“You can go home,” Kieran said, trying to keep the effort of dragging the desk out of his voice. “Your friends are gone. You don’t need to pretend to like me.”
Lauren pursed her lips about to say something but didn’t. Instead, she said something else. “I can’t leave you here alone. I can’t imagine what you’d get up to as a mole.”
Kieran smiled despite himself as Lauren walked over to him and helped him tug the desk back into place. She wasn’t as strong as Will, but some assistance was better than none.
“Worried I’ll find some incriminating information about you, officer? You’re already told me about Tim Sake,” he said before tapping the wood and moving on to the next desk.
Lauren scoffed. “I’m surprised you don’t read the files all day. You must be bored to tears.”
Kieran rolled his eyes as he started on the next desk. “What makes you think I haven’t?” he teased, “But truly, your filing system is abysmal. How do you get anything done?”
Lauren hissed through her teeth as she narrowly avoided getting her foot crushed. “I…it’s actually gotten better since you started reorganizing it.”
Kieran’s eyes widened. They’d finished with the last desk. “Is that a compliment I hear, officer?” he asked as he straightened up.
“Don’t get used to it, subordinate,” she said as she whacked him in the chest before going to collect her coat and his gift.
Kieran watched her go before collecting his own coat. He put the metal tin of charcoals in his pocket, and the sketchbook under his arm.
They left the decorations up. Neither of them felt a desire to get the ladder out of the maintenance closet, and besides the office looked better with some holiday cheer. Hermann didn’t seem the sort to redecorate for New Years'. The next holiday after that would be Valentine’s Day, his birthday, one of the last deliveries, and their last opportunity to stop doomsday fast approaching. Kieran didn’t think about that. He didn’t think about what he wanted to get her.
They locked up and stepped out into the cold. The sun had long since set, and the moon gave the snowbanks surrounding the square in front of the 11th District’s APD Headquarters a glassy texture. The city had set up a large conifer in the center decorated with lights and colored balls the size of fists.
It was late enough now that cabs would be scarce. They were nowhere near the bars where the cabs would most likely have congregated for easy fares as they ferried merrymakers back to their homes. It would be a bit of a jaunt home, but he was almost looking forward to it as he stretched.
He glanced at Lauren who was already blowing on her bare hands. He dropped his arms. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually own gloves.”
Lauren glared at him over her fingers pressed to her face. “I do. They’re part of the uniform.”
Kieran rolled his eyes at her and offered her his hand. She seemed to like it for warmth rather than his gloves after all. She didn’t take it, instead snaking an arm around his and into the large pocket of his jacket. This pocket was empty. He’d put the charcoals on his other side. His eyes widened in disbelief, but he said nothing afraid to spook her.
They walked like that for a ways, his gait hobbled, though he already tried to match her steps as he went, before Lauren asked, “Do you always walk to work?”
“Normally,” he said, “Why? Did you assume I took a cab?”
Lauren shrugged.
Kieran snorted. “I’m not poor, officer, but I’m not cabs every day to work rich. I walk, or the trolley if I’m running late.”
“I forget we have a trolley,” Lauren muttered.
They’d come to where they would normally part ways and stopped. Kieran expected Lauren to detangle herself from him, but she didn’t.
“So, what’s your plans for the evening then, officer?” he asked.
Lauren glanced at the road she would normally take towards home. Though she wasn’t looking at him he could see the gears turning in her head. Her uncle was the chief of police. He would be at the holiday party they had been meant to attend. Though it was late it was not so late that she could expect him home. The maids would be asleep or had the day off. She would be alone, left to pour over whatever had her pulling files, banned from the archive, and able to understand his own board, whatever it was that drove her into their partnership kept her up at night, enough he was concerned, and a little jealous, but he didn’t mention it. He didn’t ask her motivations, and she didn’t ask his. It was a gentlemen’s agreement.
Finally, Lauren turned back and said soft enough he had to strain to hear her, “I…don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Kieran’s heart caught in his throat and he tightened his grip on her arm. “Well,” he said, his voice coming out cracked from suppressed excitement, “My home is open if you’d like.”
Lauren gave him a slight smile and bumped against him.
They kept walking.
Kieran was going to scream.
They were almost home, near enough that the silence, while companionate, was suffocating. How tightly Lauren held onto him to keep from slipping on the patches of ice they crossed had his arm brushing her body just enough that it was killing him, actively. He needed a distraction. Walking had not burned off the energy as he’d hoped.
When they passed a snowdrift against one of the buildings Kieran got an idea. He scooped up a handful and tossed it in Lauren’s face.
She yelped, and as she wiped the white away glared at him. “You, asshole,” she muttered before letting go of his arm to fetch her own handful of snow.
Kieran laughed and danced away. “What was that dear?”
“No, you get back here and take this like a man!” Lauren snapped despite laughing.
“If you can catch me,” Kieran said practically skipped backward out of reach.
Lauren vaulted at him and grabbed his shirt to stuff snow into it.
He hissed. “Cold! Lauren, that is unfair!”
“Tough,” she said, before screaming again since he’d put snow down the back of her shirt between it and the jacket. She pushed him.
He tossed a snowball at her.
She splashed snow in his face.
He pushed her into one of the banks and pinned her down, so she was caged under his arms.
They froze like that, her hands over her head, as they panted. Realizing what he’d done Kieran released Lauren’s hands which fell on his back and squeezed him just a little. She hadn’t actually done that had she? He squeezed her back in return before stepping back and pulling her out of the snowbank. Surely, he was imagining the hurt on her face.
“I’m going to get you gloves,” he muttered, as he tried to rub warmth back into her hands stained red and white with the cold.
Lauren pulled her hands out of his and collected the book that she’d luckily dropped before she fell into the snowbank, so it wasn’t soaked the way she clearly was. She was shivering. “Let’s…get back to your apartment.”
Kieran went to offer her his hand again, but she’d already turned away, so he dropped it. “It’s in a block.”
“I remember,” she said as he fell back in pace with her, their hands back in their own pockets.
His apartment was somehow colder than the ambient temperature outside. It was something he would once again need to address with his landlord. He hoped Lauren wouldn’t notice but of course, she did.
“How is your apartment freezing?” Lauren asked as Kieran hung up his coat and stuck his hand out for hers. She pulled it off gingerly, exposing how the shirt part of her dress, especially in the back had soaked down to her skin. Kieran was glad it was colored because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if it weren’t.
He shrugged, and walked to the kitchen, collecting matches, and newspaper, before heading to the small stove he had in the corner. “I haven’t been home all day.”
Lauren rubbed her arms as she stood awkwardly in the center of the room. “Do your pipes not freeze?”
“They have before,” Kieran said with distaste, as he made a small teepee of newspaper and wood before lighting it, and closing the grate. It’d happened last year when he’d been gone for a few days for work in February. The pipe to his shower had burst soaking the floor of the room next to it, ruining all the pictures in the boxes he’d had on the floor of the second room. He’d been livid. Equally irritated because his landlord had come into his apartment without informing him to try and repair it. He was lucky he kept nothing suspicious at home. He was lucky the picture on the wall hadn’t been damaged. It was why everything was now in waterproof containers, or at least the things on the floor were not things he’d miss.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked as he walked around the back of the couch heading towards his bedroom to fetch her one of the quilts off his bed. He couldn’t see her from his bedroom as he stripped the top one off his bed, but he heard her mull the idea over.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said finally. “May I trouble you for a shirt, again?”
Kieran quirked his lip as he folded up the quilt and went to pull one of his shirts out. “This is becoming a habit, officer. Maybe you ought to just leave some shirts here.”
“Oh, are you going to clean me out a drawer?” Lauren asked drily.
Kieran looked up from what he was doing to see she was leaning against the door frame. His mouth was dry. “I... I’m sure I could find a new place for my socks,” he teased in return before pressing the shirt into her hands. “Towels on the rack.”
“I…” Lauren started as she took the shirt before turning away and heading into the bathroom. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said as she closed the door. He leaned against the door frame and waited until he could hear the water before combing a hand over his face. What was he doing? He just—Kieran sighed and pushed himself off the door to collect the quilt and put it on the couch for her when got out of the shower.
It didn’t take her long before Lauren was out her wet hair curling around her shoulders as she scanned the room for him.
He was sitting on the floor next to the stove, his legs stretched out in front of him towards the couch. He had the sketchbook in his lap, and absentmindedly spun one of the new charcoals in his hand.
“You’re not going to sit on the couch?” Lauren asked as she walked over, collecting her book from where she’d left it.
Kieran gestured to the small pile of wood beside him and the stove. “Someone’s going to need to feed it, unless you’re planning on being cold.”
Lauren picked up the quilt and fluffed it, Kieran looked away but still could help but catch how high his shirt rode up on her thigh, before settling onto the corner of the couch across from him. Some of the quilts had pooled onto the floor over his legs, and it seemed that might have been intentional. “Do you not like Christmas?” Lauren asked as she cracked open the book.
“Why do you ask?” Kieran said as he went back to looking at the sketchbook and spinning the charcoal. It’d be the first sketch. He wanted it to be good. He couldn’t decide what to draw.
“You didn’t decorate.”
Kieran laughed. “I bought a poinsettia,” he said before leaning his head back against the wall. “But…why would I decorate for one person?”
Lauren shrugged.
“How’s the book?”
“I’ve barely started,” she said, lifting it so he could see she’d only gotten a few pages in. “Having trouble deciding what to draw?”
“A bit,” he admitted, and was tempted to tap the charcoal against his leg, but it’d break, and he’d hate to ruin it. He glanced at Lauren, her face lit by the glow of the fire from the grate as she poured over her book. “Could I…draw you?”
Lauren looked up at him in surprise, and for a moment he was concerned he’d offended her. “I…If you want,” she said before turning back to her book. “Do you…draw me often?”
Kieran swallowed because it was hard to dance around that question. Normally he could get out of a yes or no question with a clever deflection, or a sarcastic comment but he wasn’t sure he could here. He did draw her often. It wasn’t intentional at first. She was an excellent subject. She had strong features, expressive eyes that would be a disservice to label as merely pensive, and lips that did much of the work communicating how she felt. They’d tasted amazing.
“I…” he started but didn’t trust his voice, so he got to his feet, leaving Lauren to look up in surprise. “Do you want coffee? Or tea, unless you plan up being up all night—”
“Kieran,” he heard, and turned. He’d made his way around the couch, so his back was to her.
Lauren had turned in her seat, the book abandoned, her hair lit by the glow of the fire, so it was a crown of gold, to look at him. He didn’t even get a word in before she leaned up, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him down into a kiss.
He leaned into it, into her. She wanted him. She’d wanted him. Oh, he was so stupid.
Her hand went up into his hair and untangled the ribbon as they pulled away from each other for the briefest of moments.
He hopped the couch and went to lean over her, but she pushed him against the back of the couch as she crawled into his lap. “No,” Lauren said between kisses, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me all night. So, I’m in charge, subordinate.”
He wouldn’t have it any other way.