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Dimitri had been on this beat for five years, and he’d never had a duller week in his life. It wasn’t that it was quiet, or that there was nothing to do – no, in fact, he was going to destroy his monthly quota in about three days if the pattern continued – but it was just the same thing over and over again. He’d been assigned to a patrol point near a new construction zone, and every day was just hours of sitting in his car, waiting for someone to speed by so he could flick on his lights to come after them and write a ticket. He’d get one about every two hours or so, and then it was just the same boring process. Do you know why I pulled you over today? License and registration, please. You were going thirty-seven in a twenty-five…
He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel and let out a sigh. He’d done that routine so many times this week that he could probably do it in his sleep by now. It was just so dull, there was nothing to do but sit here with his radar trained on the road, listen to the radio chatter, and drink his coffee in the hopes that it would keep him from falling asleep. Sylvain had told him that he should try listening to something lively, like pop music, and that he should chug a five-hour energy like Sylvain did to get through his shift on the other side of the construction zone, but Dimitri found such an idea irresponsible. He needed to have the radio on at all times and stay focused on it to make sure he didn’t miss a single alert, and energy drinks were much more expensive than the bland but effective coffee he could get for free at the office in the morning and at the diner down the street that he went to on his lunch break. He’d burned his tongue on it this morning, but it wasn’t like he drank it for the taste, anyway…
Dimitri was startled out of his mundane thoughts when the sensor on the radar went off, and a moment later he was seeing a red sports car absolutely fly by his checkpoint. “Here we go again,” the cop muttered to himself as he turned on his lights and pulled out of the blind turn where he had been hiding, waiting to catch another speeder. He checked the numbers on his readout and gave a little grimace. Forty-two in a twenty-five - that was only a few miles short of the legal precedent for reckless driving. And of course it would be a red sports car, wouldn’t it? It was so painfully cliché that Dimitri almost expected the car to speed up and attempt to outrun him. At least that would be some excitement… so he wasn’t sure whether he was disappointed or relieved when he saw the brake lights flash in that classic moment of “oh, shit” that was probably running through that driver’s head. The turn signal blinked. He was pulling over… good. Dimitri pulled in behind the now parked car and got on his radio. He didn’t think he’d have any trouble now that the guy had pulled over so easily, but it was still protocol to radio for the nearest other officer in the area to come within view just in case the driver decided to attempt a last minute getaway or, heaven forbid, tried to get violent. Bringing the mouthpiece to his lips, Dimitri began listing out the usual information.
“Got a speeder over on South Daphnel, right before the construction zone. Again. You there, Sylvain?” he said, releasing the input to wait for his response. There was a beep, and Dimitri could hear the beat of some hyped-up song playing in the background before he got the expected “a-yup” from his partner.
“On my way over,” Sylvain continued. “Model and plate?” he asked, for the record. Dimitri glanced out his windshield again.
“Looks like a Corvette. Bright red. Plates are…”
He gave a long pause, and then snorted into the receiver.
“H-0-T B-0-1-1…”
He let go of the input, waiting for Sylvain’s response. When it didn’t come within five seconds, Dimitri depressed the input button once again. “Do you copy, Sylvain? That’s a red Corvette, plates say-” He was interrupted by a wave of interference which indicated that Sylvain had also pushed the input, and Dimitri quickly released the button to hear his partner giggling through the radio.
“Hot boy. I heard it the first time, Dimitri,” Sylvain responded when he gathered himself. Shaking his head and letting out a sigh, Dimitri waited for the repeated confirmation that Sylvain was on his way over before he got out of his squad car and approached the Corvette. The man behind the wheel was watching Dimitri through his side mirror as he approached, peeking over the top of his sunglasses to get a better view. Dimitri couldn’t see much of the man’s face through just that little mirror, but he did catch a pair of bright green eyes blinking at him. He arrived at the driver’s side door right as the man rolled it down, and Dimitri prepared to launch into his usual routine.
“License and registration-”
The man had sunkissed skin and chestnut colored hair that fell down in loose curls to frame his face. There was a hint of hair on his jaw, more than a five-o-clock shadow but not enough to really qualify as a full beard. His lips were round and full, his cheekbones sharp, his chin well-defined. Everything about him was striking, and it caught Dimitri off guard. Dimitri’s mouth fell open and hung there for a second, stupidly, as he took in the sight of this stranger. His eyes were bottle green… and they looked up at him expectantly.
“-please,” Dimitri finally choked out after a moment and the man gave a tilted, surprised little smile.
“Hello to you, too, officer,” he responded. “Registration’s in the glove box, I’ll just lean over and get that for you, no problem,” he said, and Dimitri waited as the man unclipped his seatbelt to stretch across the front of the car to open the compartment on the passenger’s side and rifle through it. Dimitri watched as the movement made his shirt pull up a bit, revealing the smooth skin of his side, no less pale than any of the rest of him. Looked like he spent some time tanning. Or maybe just working outside with his shirt off?
“Gotta say,” the driver spoke up as he found the registration card and opened up his wallet to pull out his license. “This isn’t normally the sort of look I get when people see me for the first time. Especially cops,” he said, and Dimitri blinked out of his stupor when the man handed his documents out the window. For a moment, Dimitri didn’t really comprehend exactly what the other man was talking about, but then he remembered his co-workers’ comments about him being color blind. Right…
“Don’t worry, Mr. Riegan,” Dimitri said after a glance at the driver’s license to get the man’s name. “I’m not going to treat you differently from any other reckless driver,” he said with a bit of humor in his voice, and Riegan gave a little chuckle.
“Well, thank you, Officer Bl… Blay… Bladed?” he attempted, squinting at Dimitri’s nametag on the front of his uniform. Dimitri gave a little smile.
“Blay-thid,” he pronounced for the man, since he was trying so hard. “It’s a difficult one, I know. Now, you just sit tight here, all right? I’ll be back with you shortly.” It was only after he had turned and started walking back towards his car that Dimitri realized he’d forgotten to ask Riegan if he knew why he pulled him over, but he supposed that wasn’t really necessary. The man was cooperating just fine, no reason to make him admit his guilt, right? This was going smoothly enough and Dimitri didn’t expect any trouble. Still, he couldn’t believe that just looking at the man had thrown him off his game enough to snap him out of the script he’d had on repeat for days, now.
Settling back in his car, Dimitri began running the numbers through his computer as he saw Sylvain pulling up to park across the street, idling nearby just in case. Even though Dimitri didn’t expect trouble, it was still a relief to see backup there in case he needed it. With someone watching out for him, he could turn his full attention to getting work done, and so he held up the man’s license and looked it over once again to get the information from it.
“Khalid Ibn Riegan…” Dimitri murmured, looking at the picture of a much younger version of the same man that smiled back at him from the card. The information all matched up. Eyes: Green; Sex: M; Hair: Brown; Height: 5’9”. The photographed version of Khalid had eyes that were just as bright as the ones that had taken Dimitri by surprise, and he wore a braid in his hair. He looked… pretty…
Run the numbers. He needed to run the numbers. Shaking himself, he inputted everything into his computer to pull up the information on this Khalid. No previous criminal record in Fodlan… had gotten citizenship here seven years ago… no record of previous driving infractions… the man’s record was spotless and, honestly, Dimitri was a little surprised. Not because of the color of Khalid’s skin, but because those green eyes of his just screamed mischief. Either Khalid was a very playful, very innocent sort of man… or he had gotten away with a thing or two in his past. Dimitri didn’t suspect him of anything awful, but he could easily picture him getting away with things like, say, underage drinking if he just batted those sparkly, wide eyes at anyone who caught him doing wrong. Dimitri peeked over his steering wheel and saw Khalid’s face in the driver’s side mirror once again. The man shot him a winning smile and fluttered his eyelids at him and Dimitri had to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from making any sort of telling expression in reply. His eyes darted back down to the license in his hand, then up again to Khalid and his earnest, puppyish expression.
“Ah, hell,” Dimitri swore, leaning back in his seat. His ticket book lay in the cup console that wasn’t being occupied by his thermos of coffee, and Dimitri spared it only a glance. No previous infractions. Khalid had been going pretty fast but his address was from the next state over which meant it was likely he wasn’t familiar with the area, nor the construction zone. And those green eyes were so pretty, so entreating and enticing…
His radio clicked. “You good over there, Dimitri?” Dimitri scrambled to pick up and answer.
“Yeah, yeah. He’s got a clean record, this is his first driving infraction. He’s been cooperative and polite… I think I’m going to let him off. I’ve already met quota for the month, anyways.”
“Is it because he’s a hot boy, Dimi-” Sylvain began to ask, but Dimitri cut him off by quickly depressing the input once again, watching Sylvain jump in his seat as Dimitri knew he would have just filled the man’s cab with that static flare of interference. It was a little vindictive, maybe, but turnabout was fair play. And now Dimitri had to sit here for another minute to tame down his blush before he could get out of the car and face Khalid again. He even took a second to check his appearance in his rear view mirror, brushing his stringy, shoulder-length hair back from his face and tucking it behind his ears. Had he remembered to shave this morning between getting dressed and brushing his teeth? God, he wished he had a better night’s sleep; there were dark impressions under his eyes. Compared to the absolute radiant sunlight that was Mr. Riegan, Dimitri just looked like a sad, tired cop.
Well, nothing he could do about it except try for a smile and hope that it made his features look a little more handsome. He brought Khalid’s papers with him as he got back out of his car and returned to the driver door of the Corvette, offering the man a smile. “Well, Mr. Riegan…”
“Claude.”
Dimitri blinked stupidly, glancing down at the license in his hand. Riegan quickly clarified. “Oh, yeah, yeah, my legal name’s still Khalid-” Somehow it sounded so much prettier and more exotic when it came from Riegan’s lips. “-but I generally go by Claude, here. It’s my Fodlani name.”
“Right… Claude, then,” Dimitri said, feeling his heart beat a little bit faster when ‘Claude’ smiled back at him. “Considering you’re not from the area and that this is your first infraction… I’m letting you off with a warning this time,” he said, and Claude’s expression brightened.
“Wait, really?” he asked, beaming when Dimitri nodded. “Wow… thanks, Officer. I expected this to be a lot less pleasant.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dimitri said, handing everything back over to Claude. “It’s a new construction zone, and I know it’d be a pain for me to give you a ticket and make you drive all the way back over here for trial at the end of the month. Just try and be a little more mindful of the road signs in the future, and if you come back through here, do it a little more slowly, all right?” he asked.
A spark of sudden mischief glinted in Claude’s eyes when Dimitri uttered that last sentence. His smile didn’t waver one bit, but with just a little tilt of his head and the sunlight catching a bit differently across his iris, the man’s entire expression seemed to change. Dimitri had the fleeting premonition that he had somehow just made a mistake, though he had no idea what it was.
“No problem, Officer,” Claude said, sliding his sunglasses back up his nose and concealing those eyes from view once again. “Thanks again.” He rolled up his window and drove off as Dimitri headed back towards his car, got inside, and slumped in his seat.
Click. “Hey, Dimitri.” Beep.
Click. “Dimitri.” Beep.
Click. “Dee-Dee.” Beep.
Click. Beep. Click. Beep. Clickbeepclickbeepclickbeep-
“What is it, Sylvain?” Dimitri asked after picking up the incessantly chattering radio.
“Did you get his number?”
“I got all his numbers, Sylvain. They’re right here in the computer,” Dimitri responded, exasperated. What, did Sylvain think he was so twitterpated he hadn’t bothered to do his job?
“That wasn’t what I- you know what, never mind. This is going to make the story even funnier when we get back to the office.”
----
Dimitri had sort of figured that he wasn’t going to see Claude again. Most people that he let off with a warning tended to walk a straight line after that when it came to speeding, at least for a few months. Not to mention the fact that Claude wasn’t even from Fhirdiad, had probably only been here on a vacation or a business trip or something, and would have just gone home by now. So imagine his surprise when, two days later, a red Corvette came zooming by his checkpoint once again.
“…no way,” Dimitri muttered to himself, turning on his lights and pulling out onto the road. There was no sudden slamming on the brakes from Claude this time, just a gradual slowing down and a stop, and Dimitri narrowed his eyes a bit. That told him quite a lot. Told him that Claude had been expecting Dimitri to drive out and pull him over. But why the hell would Claude do something like this?
Dimitri got on the radio. “It’s Claude again,” he said, and there was the expected two seconds of “Oh baby, baby,” before Sylvain cut off his music and answered.
“Who?”
“Red Corvette. Plate H-0-T-” His radio squealed, and Dimitri quickly let go of the button so that Sylvain could speak.
“Hot boy is back!?” he asked, sounding both surprised and delighted. “No shit? How fast was he going?” he asked, and Dimitri blanked for a moment. He had been so surprised to recognize the car as Claude’s that he hadn’t actually looked at the readout on the radar, and it had since picked up another passing car going a nice, steady twenty-eight.
“Um,” he answered Sylvain, who started laughing in reply.
“You pulled him over? You pulled him over and you don’t know how fast he was going?”
“It was fast!” Dimitri defended himself, red creeping up his cheeks and even up to his ears, which he could feel turning hot with a flustered blush. Looking out to the car in front of him, he could see green eyes peeking at him from the side mirror just like the first time, and he sighed. Without the actual numbers recorded, he couldn’t give Claude a ticket. But he’d made him stop, so he at least had to go through the motions of this all over again. He couldn’t believe it. Twice, in one week!
He got out of his car as Sylvain parked across the street, making what he felt was a walk of shame over to Claude’s door. Claude was already waiting with the window down and his papers in hand.
“Hello, Officer Dimitri,” he greeted with a sunny smile, and Dimitri’s heart skip-stopped.
“License and- wait. Did you just call me Dimitri?” he asked, glancing down to his nameplate. ‘Officer D. Blaiddyd,’ it said, just like it always had. He didn’t recall giving Claude his name last time. Not his first name. He remembered telling him how to pronounce Blaiddyd, remembered Khalid telling him to call him ‘Claude,’ but he hadn’t mentioned that his name was Dimitri, had he? “How…?” he questioned, and Claude chuckled at his bewilderment.
“The website for the local PD has a profile page on all the officers in its employ,” he answered, and Dimitri’s blush got darker, if that was possible. Claude had looked him up? He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that. It was a little weird, sure. But not as weird as it would be if he wasn’t a police officer. People tended to look them up after incidents to make sure that they’d been pulled over by a real cop, not someone pretending to be one who had just stolen their information. It was reasonable enough. But still, it was just odd to hear someone confess to it so easily.
Claude was still holding out his license and registration, looking up at Dimitri with a little grin and those twinkling eyes. “You needed these?” he prompted, and Dimitri cleared his throat. He could just confess to Claude that he hadn’t actually noted how fast he was going and therefore couldn’t give him a ticket, so there was no need to run his numbers again because he’d have nothing new to enter in the system, but for some reason Dimitri felt like admitting that would be so damn embarrassing he’d just explode. So he cleared his throat, nodded, grabbed the papers, and retreated to his car. Plopping down inside, he scrunched in his seat, attempting to slide out of Claude’s view. Considering he was an above-average man, though, it just looked comical. He thought he saw Claude’s green eyes crinkle with laughter from where they were watching him in the side mirror. He knew Sylvain was laughing at him, too. He could hear it over the radio.
Dimitri scooped it up and held in the button for a full minute in retaliation before letting out a deep breath and finally talking to his partner. “Sylvain, what the hell do I do?” he asked. Sylvain’s response was immediate.
“Get his number!” he said. “It’s so obvious he did this on purpose! You’re getting a second chance, get his number this time!” he said. This time, Dimitri knew exactly what he meant. Sylvain had gotten the whole office laughing at Dimitri when he told them how Officer Blaiddyd hadn’t realized he meant phone number last time. But how was Dimitri supposed to do that? He wasn’t as smooth and suave as Sylvain, or as confident as someone like Felix or Ingrid. He was just awkward, odd, uptight Dimitri. He had never asked someone for their number before and he had no idea how to go about such a thing. All he could do right now was shrivel up in his seat and give some serious consideration to just driving away from this whole mess…
But he couldn’t do that. He still had Claude’s documents and they needed to be returned. Dimitri rallied his courage and got back out of his car. It had been long enough for Claude to believe he had actually been doing something official in his car, right? Claude wouldn’t suspect a thing, right?
“You all right there, Dimitri?” Claude asked as soon as Dimitri got within earshot, and that question almost caused Dimitri a conniption. Claude was looking up at him, smiling that mischievous smile, and something in Dimitri’s brain short-circuited. Clearing his throat, Dimitri physically shook himself to snap out of it.
“I’m letting you off with another warning, Claude,” he said, and those green eyes went round with shock.
“Seriously?” he asked. “I was going forty-five!”
Reckless driving, Dimitri’s brain oh-so-helpfully supplied. You have a number, now, you could ticket him, he’s knowingly breaking the law…
“Yeah,” he said instead, shoving Claude’s papers back through the window and dropping them unceremoniously into his lap. “Don’t do it again,” he added before turning around and marching stiffly back to his squad car. He could already hear his radio click-beeping as Sylvain tried desperately to get his attention, but this time Dimitri really did ignore him no matter how insistent he was. He slammed the door of his car shut, turned it around, and drove back to his checkpoint. He glanced into his rearview mirror once to see that Sylvain had rolled down his window and was waving and shouting at him… and Claude, too, was peeking out the window and watching him go, the laughter in his eyes long gone.
----
It took two more days for that red Corvette to speed by again. Dimitri’s radar started pinging fifty miles an hour and he sat up straight, ready to turn on his lights, but when he saw that streak of red he just let out a miserable groan and slumped back down in his chair. Forget it, he told himself. There was no way he could face Claude again, despite how it was painfully obvious to even oblivious Dimitri that Claude was doing this for his attention. Dimitri couldn’t fathom that even if he was aware of it, though. What about him had managed to catch the interest of someone so heartbreakingly gorgeous? Claude was beautiful, sunkissed, bright-eyed, charming… and Dimitri was Dimitri. This all had to be some grand joke the universe had conspired to pull on him, right?
Two minutes after he let Claude’s car go by, it came speeding from the other direction. Fifty-five.
“Are you serious?” Dimitri asked aloud, gripping his steering wheel tight. It seemed like only moments later when Claude came back around going sixty.
“Oh. My God,” Dimitri exhaled. There was no way Claude could be more obvious at this point. And when he whizzed by doing seventy the next time, Dimitri finally turned on his siren. He put his car into gear, but before he could pull onto the road, Claude’s car came roaring back, turned into the culvert where Dimitri was hidden and screeched to a stop beside him. His window was already down and Claude was motioning emphatically for Dimitri to do the same. Reluctantly, Dimitri complied.
“I want to take you out for coffee and donuts!” Claude declared as soon as Dimitri had it down the smallest crack. Dimitri stared at Claude for a moment, stunned. That was… horribly cliché. But it made the knot of uncertainty coiled in Dimitri’s chest release all at once, and it came undone with a peal of bright laughter as he finished rolling down the window. Encouraged by the noise, Claude smiled and continued. “You’re hot! I love a man in uniform! You’re so respectful! I can’t get you out of my head! I’ve literally been planning what I want to say to you for days! Please come on a date with me!”
Dimitri was so flustered, and yet so happy at the same time. He hadn’t been asked on a lot of dates in his life, but this was hands-down the most bewildering, over the top, and loudest way anyone had ever asked him out before. He was laughing so hard that there were tears in the corners of his eyes.
“Y-You were going seventy in a t-twenty-five-” was all he could manage to say when he finally figured out how to talk around the giggles. Claude beamed at him.
“Did it get your attention?” he asked, and Dimitri nodded, trying to get a grip on himself before he actually started weeping from the force of his laughter. Coffee and donuts. Claude had asked him out for coffee and donuts. “Well?” the man yelled at him. He leaned forward, punctuating each of his next words with a loud blast from his horn. “Date! Me! Dimitri!”
“Okay!” Dimitri finally said, unable to be shy or awkward about it when he had to scream to make himself heard over Claude’s antics. “Okay! Okay, Claude! Okay!”
Claude finally leaned back in his seat, a triumphant glow all about him as he processed Dimitri’s answer. Dimitri was still processing it, too. It had all happened so fast. God, he didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed about it. Claude had taken all that bashfulness and just stripped it away.
“When do you get off?” Claude asked at a much more bearable volume, and Dimitri smiled.