Work Text:
For the life of her, she would kill Buckells if it was the last thing she did.
‘Optics.’ He told her. ‘Need to boost the image in the community. We’re between cases but the public don’t see our hard work when there is one.’
Our hard work?
She fought the urge to smack his smarmy face. He was fucking useless. It was her team that did everything, he just took the credit then filed his paperwork wrong. She forced herself to tune back into what he was saying.
‘Photographer will be here next Friday, tell them all to look smart. It’s all about image, Jo. Gotta look our best.’
‘I’m sorry what?’
He sighed. ‘For the calendar, Jo. MIT’s finest. Sell it internally, chuck a load to the public, libraries and stuff. Say it’s for charity. Run a feature in the local paper. Drum up some support before you cock things up again.’ He patted her shoulder with a heavy hand before walking out of her office.
She watched him through the windows of her office until he disappeared from view, barely hiding her distaste. Turning her gaze back to her desk, she caught sight of Kate, looking at her with an amused twitch on her lips. She rolled her eyes back, fighting the smirk that wanted to match Kate’s, and looked back at the stack of paperwork Buckell’s had also conveniently left. Before she could get stuck in, there was a knock on the door. She looked up to see Kate, leaning on the edge of the door frame, far more casual than her usual respectful knock and head-round-the-door or coming to stand in front of her desk. The DI made it look good though, her blazer sleeves pushed up her forearms, arms folded in front of her chest.
‘Fleming, what can I do for you?’ She found her smile had to be forced down into something more neutral, rather than the broader, genuine one that was threatening to escape.
‘Was wondering if there was anything I could do for you, boss?’
Christ, Jo was such a lesbian.
‘Why’s that?’
Kate chuckled. ‘Look like you’re about to be suspect number one if Buckell’s goes missing. Thought I’d see if you want a coffee or something, buy some time for you to frame Lomax.’
Jo snorted, an inelegant sound, but she couldn’t help it. It had been peculiar when Kate had first transferred in, that stigma of anti-corruption making the team wary. Credit to her, Kate had acknowledged it, gone for a no-hold barred approach of joking about it, giving as much as she got when someone eyed her warily. When conversations had gone quiet as she walked in, she’d crack a joke about AC-12 being desperate for more info on the bent copper taking all the Hobnobs but leaving the custard creams.
‘They’re looking for a really sick individual to not touch the custard creams, Chris. You happen to know anything about that?’ She’d smile, and the team would laugh, ribbing Lomax for his stash of biscuits he was loath to share in the breakroom. She’d broken the ice a chip at a time, until she was an assumed participant in team nights out, not a specifically invited but unwanted guest.
In the present, Jo smiled, partly at the memories, partly at the cheeky smirk pointed her way.
‘Lomax? No way anyone would believe him doing Buckells in. I’d pin it on an actual threat.’
‘Let me guess, Jatri?’ Kate chuckled, pushing off the doorway as she spoke, lowering her voice on her punchline. They were being mean, talking like this with the door open, but the fact Kate was comfortable joking about Jo’s ex with her was fun. She hadn’t had someone to be catty with before. It was nice.
‘Hmm, no, I said a threat, Fleming. It’ll be rough to lose my favourite DI, but there’s only one person in this office who could get Buckell’s and get the case chucked out with neither of us in the shit for it.’
Kate’s eyes brightened, her smile growing.
‘I’m your favourite DI?’
‘No, it’s Lomax,’ she deadpanned. ‘Yes, you numpty. Favourite and very best.’
‘Best keep that up then, hadn’t I? I’ll do a coffee run in a minute- cappuccino?’
‘Please.’
Kate laughed as Jo feigned desperation. She moves back to the door, hovering like she doesn’t want to leave.
‘What did Buckell’s want?’
Jo groaned.
‘The department needs to improve its public image apparently. Next Friday a photographer will be coming to take photos of us for some calendar he wants to sell.’
‘Like a sexy fireman calendar?’ Kate seemed far too amused by that idea. Jo shot her a glare.
‘No. Just a normal, professional looking calendar.’
Kate snorted, waved her hand. ‘Til they get to March and it’s Lomax taking his shirt off. Can’t wait till you tell that lot.’
Jo put her head in her hands.
‘Shit. That’s what everyone’s going to think, isn’t it?’
She felt a hand on her shoulder. She started up to find Kate stood over her, somehow crossing her office silently to offer that support.
‘Odds are, it’s lose lose either way. We do sexy and get told off for making a tit of ourselves, we do professional and everyone takes the mick for not being able to laugh at ourselves.’
Jo tipped her head forward again, groaning once more.
‘Fucking Buckell’s.’
Kate’s hand left her shoulder, leaving an empty feeling. Jo wanted it back.
‘I’ll get you that coffee. You try and figure out how to tell the team.’ Kate moved back to the door, looking back to smile at Jo. It was soft. Jo cursed the fluttery feeling in her stomach at the sight. ‘You’ll get this sorted, boss. I know it.’
And then she was gone. Jo thumped her head forwards again, forgoing her hands in favour of going straight forehead-to-desk. It hurt, quite a bit, but the headache from that was much more pleasant than the ache this calendar was already starting to give her.
Sighing, she picked herself up, straightened out the papers she’d knocked askew, and dove in to the thrilling task of filling in forms (correctly).
Hours later she’d emerge from her bubble of concentration to find a travel mug and a paper bakery bag at the corner of her desk. A Post-It attached read, in some very cramped Biro scrawl;
Hey boss, you were so into it, felt it would be wrong to disturb you! If you don’t take a break by 3pm, I’m busting in though! Coffee in the thermos (w/ oat) , almond croissant in bag. Thought it might cheer you up. You got this!!!!! :P
She smiled, tracing the words with her fingers. She carefully stashed the note in her inside blazer pocket, and pushed away from her desk slightly, leaning back in her chair to stretch, arms above her head, stretched behind, then back in front. She opened the bag, retrieved the pastry, and with her free hand popped the lid on the thermos, inhaling the bitter notes of coffee. She closed her eyes, enjoyed the moment. It smelled hot. A cautious sip found it was the perfect temperature. She hummed, a small smile tugging at her lips. She leant back in her chair and gave herself five minutes to enjoy her coffee and pastry before she went back to fixing Buckell’s mistakes.
Unbeknownst to her, she had a witness to her few moments of peace. Well two, but one of them, the younger, more junior of the two, was warned off with a steely glare and a quick shake of a head. So it was mostly Kate who watched, fond smile melting her glare as she watched Jo take tiny bites of her croissant, the tension in the smaller woman seeming to physically ebb and drain from her with every bite.
A paper ball lobbed in her direction by Lomax broke her out of it, and he mimed opening something. She tore her eyes from Jo to open it and found he’d scribbled a hasty comic of two stick figures with scribbles of hair, one shoulder length, one piled on top like a dog shit, holding hands under a, she squinted, rainbow? It was all black ink, so points for effort she guessed. The caption read;
Tell her you like her!!!!
She rolled her eyes at him. He jerked his head in the direction of Jo’s office, and she shook her head in response. She picked up her pen to get back to her own work, but she kept the paper ball, slipping it into her desk drawer when she next fetched a paperclip.
The time went quickly, until before Jo knew it, it was Thursday, the day before the photographs. She’d weaseled more details out of Buckell’s. It was absolutely a serious calendar, no nudity, no jokes. Basically like getting their ID badges done, but their full body and in official gear, and hopefully with better results. That had led to a fun afternoon where everyone showed off their horrific ID pictures, with Kate being crowned the ‘poor sod with the worst one’. She’d taken her win gracefully, wincing as she looked at it.
‘Knew that haircut was dodgy. Thought if I looked like a mum, I’d act like a mum. Just a bloody Karen cut, isn’t it?’
Everyone has teased her, before sloping off to do their work. Jo, secretly pleased hers hadn’t received the same level of friendly abuse as Kate’s, had brought her a sympathy tea, and a KitKat from the vending machines. The smile she’d got in response had brightened her up, and the quiet, ‘thanks, boss’? She’d lived off that for the rest of the day. She’d only yelled at Buckell’s for five minutes for screwing up a file, instead of the ten her superior normally deserved for that level of idiocy.
But now, the day before it all went down she was nervous.
‘When’s the photographer meant to get here?’ She wanted to get more control of the situation. She’d already basically written the day off, figuring the excitement about having their picture taken like they were ten was going to render the team virtually useless anyway, but knowing when exactly to stop expecting any level of competency would be useful for managing her stress levels she hoped.
Instead, Buckell’s, as he always did, disappointed her.
‘Budget cuts; no photographer. Permission to use one of these,’ He waved a tiny little digital camera, one Jo thought she recognised as a former departmental device. ‘Got these from storage. Former evidence cam. Do the job just fine.’
She hated being right.
As she contemplated the probable consequences of committing murder in the middle of the open plan office, at 2pm on a Thursday afternoon, with over fifteen witness, all of whom were employed in some capacity by the police, and with functioning CCTV over the room to boot- Kate stood up from her desk, walking over like she was just strolling down the street.
‘Old school, nice. Can I?’ She took the camera from him without waiting for an answer, turning it round, fiddling with the settings. Jo felt a smirk twitch her lips. ‘I did a photography course years ago, at college. Used to give us these sorts of things in the first few weeks so we didn’t break the good stuff. Christ, this takes me back.’
Jo is surprised by that reveal. Secret arts student Kate Fleming? She would very much like to learn more. Thankfully, she is saved from opening her mouth to voice that thought, by Buckell’s opening his.
‘Do you have a camera still?’
‘Yeah, proper DSLR.’
‘Great. Congratulations Davidson, you got a proper camera and a camgirl.’ He laughed, but it dropped quickly, all mirth draining at the sight of the dual ‘not fucking funny’ glares aimed his way. He coughed. ‘Right, well. Fleming, you send the pics to the calendar company, Davidson, you sort the invoice stuff. I’ll see you all for my picture.’ He nodded, made a beeline straight into his office, shutting the door behind him.
They turned to each other, no words needed to share how pleased they were at that response.
‘What a twat.’
‘My thoughts exactly, boss. Don’t know how he’s made DSU, heard he fucked up a request form again.’
Jo tilted her head, walking back into her own office. Kate followed, one step behind. Jo perched on the edge of her desk, leaning onto her hands for support. This move accuentated the height difference between them, but she didn’t feel threatened by the way Kate was looking down at her. She felt safe.
‘Yeah, bloody eejit. And this fucking calendar thing. His idea, but we’re doing all the work.’ She grumbled, feeling the deja vu of that last sentence. ‘Sorry you got dragged into this.’
‘I was volunteering myself anyway. Couldn’t leave us stuck with that dinosaur tech. We’d all come out looking like Lomax.’ Kate pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. Jo watched the movement, fascinated by the ease of it. Why did it look so good?
Fingers? Fingers.
Jo would deny it later. But she honest to god giggled at the judgement in Kate’s tone.
Kate seemed pleased at that, if the red tinge to her ears was any indication.
‘Anyway, Jo. Now it’s all in hand. Everyone can relax, we’ll be done in a jiffy and I can order you all round like the models you are.’
Jo felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Fuck. It might have just been a general statement about the team as a whole, but Kate calling the models while looking directly at her? It did things to her. She fought the urge to gulp and found her voice, trying to reclaim the hard-as-nails DCI voice she’d cultivated.
‘Thanks, Kate. Drinks on me after, yeah?’ She finished it with a smile, receiving a positively beaming grin in return.
‘No arguments from me. I’ll leave you to it.’ Kate honest to God fucking winked as she turned to leave the room and Jo let out a huff of air. The photoshoot was going to be a disaster, she could feel it, no matter what help Kate brought.
For the twenty second time that day, she cursed Buckell’s in her head.
It started well. Really well.
Everyone was in their best, Lomax had sprung on a haircut and, bizarrely, a new cologne
(‘It’s photographs, Lomax, not a live show,’ Jo had tried to say, choking on the heavy scent.
He had merely shrugged.
‘Smell good, look good, feel good. That’s the Lomax motto, boss.’ He had held himself together until she thwacked him with the back of her hand, cuffing his head. He had spluttered, breaking into laughter. ‘I’ll go easy on it next time. Should be faded enough by pub time to work though.’ He’d winked and jumped back when she went to hit him again, accidentally knocking into Jatri as he went.
Unfortunately for her, Farida was carrying a cup of tea and her uniform became stained with it. With a ‘fuck’s sake Chris’, she stalked off to find a spare set. Jo bit back a smile.
Things hadn’t ended well with them to say the least, but they had managed to find a strange balance in their work life. They’d had no option. Jo had told Farida if she couldn’t keep her personal affairs out of work, she’d be ordering her transfer quicksmart. She didn’t want to ruin Farida’s career. It would look bad for her too, given her senior position to Jatri’s much more junior. She had liked Farida in part because she was good at her job; they had got closer through a sort of mentorship that Jo genuinely had not intended to become a personal matter. She had fantastic potential. She shouldn’t let any bad blood between her and Jo jeopardise that.
So despite the slashed clothes and the borderline stalking, Jo had let it go out of guilt at potentially taking advantage. Then a drunken moan to Kate about her ex who was crossing boundaries had led to a pep talk.
Jo was worthy of love, real love. She was allowed to set firm boundaries. They were both adults and the fact Jo was this worried about taking advantage, while her ex was scot free for that one incident with a thrown vase? Yeah, she was lucky. Jo hadn’t necessarily told her it was Farida, but Kate had picked it up all the same.
‘Either she was an ex you were ignoring,’ Kate had explained. ‘Or she has a massive crush and you’re completely oblivious and overlooking it.’
And invigorated by that talk Jo had met with her and laid out the firm new plan for how to navigate their lack of relationship. They were colleagues. Jo would be friendly, treat her the same as everyone else, fair consideration for promotions and commendations, etc. Farida hadn’t really been able to argue. It had been presented very clearly, and hopefully knocked some sense into the younger woman that her sulking over her ‘first big love’ was wasting everyone’s time.
Still. She had ripped Jo’s favourite leather jacket. She was allowed to be petty. She could enjoy small misfortunes. That was just normal human behaviour.
Once they were all properly dressed, groomed and chatting at their desks, not even pretending to do work, she called them all round.
‘DSU Buckell’s has organised this to show MIT at our best. We catch killers. This is not, according to him, meant to be anything but professional. Think school picture day in Year 7 when you gave a shit, yeah?’
This warranted a few chuckles around the room and she relaxed slightly
‘He’s also, in all his wisdom, decided we have to do this in a suitable setting, so I’ve been asked to direct you all to the garage round the corner, who have kindly agreed to let us use them as a backdrop. Our master photographer DI Fleming will meet us there, and I have been advised to warn you, she’s a bloody tyrant with the lens, so mind out. No goofing round, yes?’
A chorus of ‘yes ma’am’s’ echoed round the room. She kind of felt like a school teacher leading a trip.
‘Good. We’ll be doing a group one first, then group B will come back here to look busy and man the phones. Group A will be photographed, then come back and switch, yes?’
Again, ‘yes ma’am’.
‘Excellent.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Let’s go.’
As they trooped out, Lomax caught her eye with raised eyebrows and a shit eating grin. She stuck her tongue out quickly, as the last two to leave the room. Apparently she wasn’t the only one to catch the school-teacher feeling.
At the garage, everyone behaved themselves well enough. They had a group photo round the side of the building, the brick work apparently free enough from graffiti it met Kate’s standards. Buckell’s showed up for that portion, and an individual shot, before he left, telling Jo he would be out of the office meeting higher ups- aka, playing golf.
When he was gone, people relaxed a lot more. The smiles at Kate’s insistence of them saying ‘silly sausages’ were more genuine, if not just as perplexed. The owner of the garage offered to take over the camera so Kate could be in the shot. She was hesitant, but eventually agreed. Camera shy, Jo absently thought. No nonsense Kate is camera shy. Then she thought some more, as Kate gave the man a crash course in operating the camera- ‘point and shoot, easy on the button, she’s delicate, don’t touch the dials’- and realised that maybe, as a former UCO for AC-12, being named in a soon to be publicly available photography book, wasn’t good form for maintaining that cover.
Old habits dying hard, she thought, and hoped it was true. Or her first theory, she thought as Kate shuffled the group around a bit so she could squeeze into the row behind Jo. Kate just might not like having her picture taken. That was probably it. She felt Kate’s breath tickle her ear and shivered as the taller woman shuffled her feet, trying to get in position so they were all staggered, not blocking anyone else.
They managed a few more serious ones before there was some whispering from the back row, where Lomax was, the tall git.
‘Boss?’
Jo turned, and oh wow she was pressing into Kate’s body. They were a lot closer than she thought they were. She turned more, creating as much distance as she could without knocking into another officer, missing Kate’s warmth.
‘Yes, Lomax?’
He grinned, and she already regretted answering.
‘What do you say we do a fun one? Like, a blooper one. Could go at the end as a ‘police are people too’ thing. Show our fun side.’ He looked quite proud, she almost hated to shoot him down.
‘I think if we say ‘police are people too’, Lomax, we’re going to be tanking our image, not helping.’ Jo pinched the bridge of her nose. Kate snickered.
‘What if we just keep it in-house? Team only?’ He countered, and the way everyone else was nodding Jo felt like she didn’t have much choice. What’s the worst that could happen,
‘Right. Only a few. We have to get back to work.’
Chris grinned, and Jo turned back in her place. Warm breath tickled her ear again.
‘Nice one, boss.’
As it turned out ‘only a few turned into ten minutes of serious discussion of what everyone deemed as ‘professionally silly.’ They settled on pulling funny faces. Jo wasn’t fully convinced when she saw Chris convincing Jatri to get on his back, but Kate leaned forward again to whisper that Jo would get full veto and be allowed to pick the ones Kate sent off anyway, and she could watch Kate delete the offcuts herself. She’d shivered, tried to disguise it as a nod, but unable to see her face, she didn’t know if Kate bought that.
The garage owner, Mick, was watching it all amused, and was happy to take up Kate’s earlier tactic of ‘silly sausages’. He counted down and as they chorused the phrase, Jo felt relaxed enough to let herself have fun. On impulse, she stuck her tongue out, crossing her eyes slightly. They took a few more then called it a day on the group. The half of the team called Group B sloped off back to The Hill, Lomax included, while Jo and Kate went to check the photos just taken.
They were all wonderful, the tiny display showing crisp images, and Jo had hope they might actually look good when this whole ordeal was done. She did laugh at the ‘silly’ shots. Her choice of pose looked fine, she actually looked quite happy. The rest of them-well.
Lomax and Jatri appeared to be falling over, one of them out of shot in almost every shot. The one where they were both in frame was unfortunately the one where Farida’s eyes were shut and Lomax looked like he was about to sneeze. Everyone else was pulling their own faces, peace signs and thumbs up thrown around. Jo’s eyes were drawn to Kate. The taller woman had done peace signs too, but positioned her hand behind Jo’s head, giving her the classic bunny ears look. Kate’s face seemed quite proud of her joke, like she was mid laugh.
And she was looking at Jo.
Not at the camera, or Lomax trying to stay steady behind her, but Jo.
Blushing slightly, Jo tapped the edge of the camera.
‘This one’s good. The only one with us all too.’
‘Great minds,’ Kate nodded. ‘Was thinking that myself, boss. Good enough for the MIT Christmas card?’ She teased, and Jo huffed.
‘We’ll see. Let’s sort these guys out before I freeze.’
Group A’s photos all went smoothly. Comprised of the sergeants and the other uniformed officers, they all had photos organised by rank and then a few individuals where they posed. Stood behind Kate as the younger woman wielded her camera, she had to admit, Farida did have an instinct for getting the best pose. She hovered when they were done, but Jo dismissed them quickly, dreading how long Lomax would probably make it take.
Her fear was well founded. Lomax and the other detectives came in, clutching shopping bags. Jo could see brightly-coloured plastic sticking out of one and felt her stomach drop.
‘What’s this?’
Lomax dropped his bag with a thump and a grin.
‘Buckell’s called The Hill. He wants a few of us in tact gear, DI’s and up. Make us look hard.’ His grin widened as Jo swore. Loudly. He continued. ‘We also thought why not have some fun ones, proper, not just the mucking about before. So, we nipped out and-’
He stooped to pull out the plastic. Two super-soaker water guns emerged.
‘Got these.’
Next to her, Kate looks far too thrilled with this turn of events. Jo sighed, sensing she would be deemed a spoilsport if she knocked this idea down. They didn’t have to use the photos.
‘Fine. We’ll get the normal ones done, ten minute break to change into tact gear, and see if we can get this all done by half past. Gives us forty minutes, okay?’
They nod and they get to it. Mick gets roped into being Kate’s assistant again, taking their senior officer group photo, the DI’s together and Kate’s individual. Then she takes over again, sorting the rest of them. With these being more senior figures, they’re sent back as soon as they’re individual picture is done. They whizz through them all, and they take a few of Lomax ‘fun’ ideas- mostly pretending to drop the water guns, having them stand over Mick as he played dead, ‘investigating’ the scene. Jo stood back and shook her head, hiding her smile.
Then, they disperse to change. Jo hates the weight of the tact gear, but appreciates its role as a potentially lifesaving piece of equipment. The weight and her coat beneath do help to warm her up a little, but not by much. They repeat the process from before, actually well ahead of her intended schedule and she’s pleased with how efficient the day is going.
Until Chris picked up one of the water guns again.
‘What do you think, Fleming? DI v DI? Pistol standoff?’ He waved the gun at her and she wavers slightly, glancing at Jo, before the desire to muck around clearly wins.
‘You’re on.’
And so Jo watched as her two best detectives, her favourite colleagues- the two people she would be most likely to call her friends- start to aim water guns at each other, miming procedures complete with silent yelling, all while Mick chuckled saying’
‘Oh that’s good that.’
Jo rolled her eyes again, but leaned on the wall, watching the proceedings with a faint smile. They might be idiots, but they’re her idiots, godammit.
And Kate’s laughter with Chris was so carefree, she can imagine how she must be with her son. She might not call her son a ‘fucking pillock’ though. Lomax is fair game for that, when he lowers the gun to mime a penis- and then Kate, still shaking with laughter joined in, the two of them shaking their water-gun phalluses with a childish glee unbecoming of the Detective Inspectors they are.
Jo made a mental note to make sure those photos are deleted- after perhaps being emailed to her- and had began to push off the wall to call an end to it, when their mucking about suddenly goes up a level.
They had been having a hushed discussion, glancing at her and then- They started to take off their tact gear. Tearing it off with the fever that was usually reserved for newly minted officers, desperate to be rid of the weight. Jo gaped as coats came off, their buttoned shirts too. Jo’s eyes widened as Kate’s biceps swelled and twisted as she pulled her t-shirt back into place. She found her voice, panicked and nearly shrill.
‘What exactly is going on?’ They turned to face her, sheepish but still buoyed by their excitement.
‘I know we’re not doing a sexy calendar, boss.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘But me and Fleming are the best bods at MIT- in a vote decided by us, ma’am. No harassment training necessary.’ He hastened to add. ‘We’re going to make a dodgy one, tell Buckells it’s the first one produced with the rest of them already sent off. Nothing bad- but his face when he opens it up and January is me with my shirt off? Can’t waste that chance.’
Jo felt her lips twitch.
‘Make it quick, and for the love of god, keep it PG.’
They grin, and they’re back to it. They repeated some of the water pistol ones, stopping briefly for Lomax to take his undershirt off- ‘I cannot stress enough ma’am, how much I want to see Buckells lose his shit when the first thing he sees in his calendar is me.’
He’s a good sport, doing some poses that have Kate and Jo leaning on each in stitches. Even Mick is shaking with laughter, and he has to hand the camera back to Kate when his phone rings, walking off still chuckling. Eventually though, Lomax succumbed to the chilled air that had been plaguing Jo and rushed to put his shirts back on. This marked the end of the fun and they began to pack up the various props that had been discarded. Lomax went on ahead, his carrier bags of water guns loaded up once more, leaving Kate and Jo to pick up the last few things.
Hovering, wanting to spend more time enjoying Kate’s sole focus, she asked to see the pictures again. Kate was happy to comply, and they huddled together looking at the screen.
‘We’re a very photogenic lot,’ Jo commented as they clicked through. ‘Could be a squad on a TV show.’
Kate chuckled. ‘I can see you on the telly, boss. Not me so much.’
Jo flushed, kept her gaze trained on the screen. ‘I don’t know about that, Kate. You’re not too bad to look at.’
Kate didn’t say anything, but her hand paused in its button clicking briefly. They carried on silently until they reached their own portraits.
‘I look like a potato,’ Jo couldn’t help but grumble. Kate laughed.
‘You look beautiful, Jo.’
‘A beautiful potato.’
‘No potatoes involved. That’s all you.’
Jo inhaled at the tenderness in Kate’s tone. She looked up and found Kate, her gaze burning to her. They held eye contact for a long moment.
‘Would- would you like me to redo it?’ Kate’s never sounded so hesitant, not to Jo. ‘I saw you were a bit shy earlier, with the others.’
Jo nodded, touched that Kate had noticed.
They were quiet, the only sound their boots on the floor and Kate’s occasional direction to her. She had Jo lean against the wall, hands tucked into her vest. She moved to the side, raised the camera. And paused. She lowered the camera.
‘I mean it, Jo. You’re beautiful.’ Jo stared, shocked. Then Kate raised the camera and click.
When they finished, she showed Jo, shyly. They were good. Really good. She wasn’t sure she recognised herself, the confidence in the stance, the focused gaze. But it was her.
‘These are stunning, Kate. You sure police work is your calling?’
‘Got a great subject.’ She shrugged, cheeks red. They were stood close again. Closer than before. Jo glanced up into Kate’s eyes. Was she reading this wrong? Was Kate just being nice? Kate’s face inched closer, putting a stop to those thoughts. Their breath mingled and Jo’s hitched slightly in anticipation. She was closing her eyes, ready for the moment when their lips would meet when-
‘Oh, sorry, I thought you lot had packed up by now. My nephew’s called, I got to go help him out and lock up here.’ Mick was back.
They jumped apart.
‘That’s fine, we’re just leaving. Thank you for letting us use your space.’ He waved off the support.
‘Just make sure I get one of those calendars and I’ll be fine. And tell that skinny fella I wanted the one of him. He seemed cocky. Test his mettle a bit.’
Kate beamed. ‘Oh I will, don’t worry.’ They shook Mick’s hand, collected the last items, and off they went back to The Hill, Kate’s camera dangling from her neck.
They returned silently, heading straight to get changed and store their tact gear. Back in their normal clothes, the layers of her polo neck and blazer firmly in place, they fell into step back to the office. Jo wondered if she should bring up that moment, if she should wait for Kate to say something. Do it now while it was fresh or later at the pub? Do it at all? Lost in thought, she jumped out of her skin when they walked into the office and Lomax stepped in front of them.
‘Ma’am’s, we’ve had an idea.’
‘Jesus Christ, Lomax.’ Her statement is echoed by a less formal, ‘what the fuck, Chris’ from Kate.
‘Sorry, just. You’re our boss, yeah. Top dog, no matter what Buckells says. We had an idea for the calendar. The real one. You two. Our gaffer and her right hand.’
She frowned.
‘That’s a lovely idea, but we’ve just packed up. Time to do some real police work, get back to our jobs, you know?’
He shakes his head. ‘Please, boss? Look, I can do the camera work, it’ll be ten minutes. Got you a hot water bottle, fix that garage chill, and Jatri’s gone on a lunch run- there’s an almond croissant with your name on it, I promise.’
She sighed. Ten more minutes. She could handle it.
‘If that’s okay with you, Kate?’
‘No complaints from me. So long as there’s a Gregg’s steak bake coming my way.’
Lomax grinned. ‘There will be once I text her.’
And so they played along with Lomax the photographer. His ideas for how they should stand- ‘arms crossed, you’re a tough gaffer!’, ‘hands in your pockets, we’re nicked and you know it, tell us with your eyes!’- were odd, but Jo had worked with him long enough to understand how his mind worked and figured it out quickly, Kate following suit.
The photos turned out well, Kate telling him as such when her camera was finally relinquished back into her possession. Jatri’s return with lunches also served to boost the mood, and with an oat milk cappuccino in hand, Jo finally felt herself relax properly.
Gradually the excitement of the day faded, and they all at least pretended to get on with some work. There was a thrum to the room still, more than the usual Friday feeling, and she let them go ten minutes early, the school teacher feeling back with full force. She nodded and smiled as people poked their head in to say goodbye, having decided she’d cut her usual departure back to half an hour after usual clock out time, not an hour. It had been a long day.
This plan was scuppered by a knock at the door. She looked up to see Kate, leaning on the edge of the door frame, her blazer sleeves rolled up her forearms. She felt a smile pull at her lips, and didn’t try to hold it back as Kate smiled back.
‘Alright, boss?’
‘Same old. What can I do for you, Fleming?’
‘Was wondering if there was anything I could do for you, boss?’
Christ, Jo was such a lesbian.
She bit her lip, noticed the way Kate’s eyes dropped to follow the motion. ‘And why’s that?’
Kate pushed off the door, coming forward to the desk, to stand behind it, right next to Jo. She gasped as Kate bent down to catch her eyes.
‘Well, boss. I seem to recall drinks are on you tonight.’ Kate’s breath ghosted her face. ‘And I don’t think it’s fair you running yourself ragged to make Buckells idea happen, then put yourself out of pocket afterwards too. What I propose,’ she leaned closer. ‘Is drinks at mine. Yeah?’
Jo let out a ragged breath. She surged forwards, and Kate must have had the same idea because they collided, a clash of teeth that they quickly sorted into a desperate kiss. Conscious of Kate’s crouch, Jo fought her way out of her chair, standing up to wrap her arms around Kate’s neck. The taller woman groaned, a hand snaking into Jo’s hair, the other coming to cup Jo’s face, an action so tender but so right amongst the urgency of the kiss.
‘That’s a yes, Kate.’ Jo managed when they finally broke apart.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Let me grab my coat.’
It took a few weeks for Kate to sort and edit the pictures, Jo helping her pick the best ones to send to the calendar. For the bulk deal, they got Lomax’s joke one printed too, at minimal cost. They actually had five copies made- one for Buckells, one for Lomax himself, and two that they would each give him at Christmas- as well as one for Mick.
The fun pictures they sent round, asking people to pick a few favourites, and they made a small poster too, to hang in the small kitchen, of MIT’s finest pulling faces and laughing with each other. Lomax’s photoshoot of Jo and Kate also ended up on the poster, captioned ‘Ma’am’s’ in Sharpie not long after it went up.
The actual calendar turned out pretty well. It sold quite well locally, raising a significant amount they announced would be split amongst three local charities. It brought some good press like Buckells had wanted, even if the article in the local paper about it did recommend everyone ‘skip January, it’s shit anyway. The year gets better every month after that’. This being, of course, because Buckells had insisted as the most senior officer, he would be the first page. A copy of that article also ended up in the kitchen, key phrases highlighted.
Jo kept a copy of that calendar in her office, permanently stuck on October, even after the calendar stopped being in-date, just for the smile it would bring her to glance over and see Kate, leaning on the dark brickwork, glaring down the camera. Kate would roll her eyes and blush whenever she caught sight of it, but she was pleased, Jo knew. She knew this, because of the copy permanently stuck on November in Kate’s kitchen. And the prints of Jo now affixed in photo frames in her living room. On the stairs. And on her bedside table.
Kate’s photography skills weren’t sent back to retirement, as she found herself snapping photos on long walks in the country with Jo on Sunday mornings, candidly catching Jo as often as she did any bird or flower that caught her eye. They found new uses for it too, finding a new appreciation for the art form in the bedroom, though only on very rare occasions, with a specific SD card Kate kept locked away, on the camera that wasn’t linked to the cloud. They had their fun, but it was theirs alone.
And that was the saga of the MIT charity calendar.