Work Text:
1924
The post-midnight waves crash against the corroded wood of the dock. They rock the boat as wooden boxes are passed from hands on its deck to those waiting on the dock. The silver moon is the only light, and the night is protection for both the shipment runners and the pair watching them from inside a fisher’s boat.
“Are you sure they're Golden Triad?” Shawn whispers.
“That’s what Rich said” Juliet replies. “I need to see if anyone important is here.” The Triad normally doesn't have any liquor shipments until Monday, so she isn’t sure what this is. Juliet peeks from behind the edge of the boat’s sails, hoping to get a better view.
And makes eye contact with the leader of the group. His face contorts as he realizes he is seeing something beyond darkness, and he yells.
Juliet hisses, “Run!”
She grabs Shawn’s hand and runs up the deck, leaping down onto the dock and up onto the street. They run. She’s glad she’s wearing her factory trousers from the war; no way she’d be running like this in a skirt. A man runs after them. He has a pistol in his hand, but he isn’t shooting. It’ll make noise. Plus, you can’t get information from anyone if they’re dead.
They avoid streets with lit street lamps and make their way into the city. After two miles of shoe soles against stone and Shawn’s labored laughter, she risks looking behind them to see the man close behind them The man is about a block away now, slowing by. She feels Shawn start to slow as well and pulls him forward. “I’m not letting you get bumped off because you don’t exercise!” she hisses.
“Turn left!” Shawn replies. Her trust in him is muscle memory now, so she lets him pull her into the dark alleyway. He knows this entire city as well as the back of his hand, anyways. There’s a gate a few feet away, and he starts to climb over it. “Come on, before he catches up!” She grabs onto the metal and follows, hoisting herself over the top rail.
By the time the man reaches the spot, they’re long gone.
--
Shawn’s apartment is the safest place for them to be. It’s a residential area, so there are a few people loitering about, luckily too zozzled to notice much beyond their own affairs.
Shawn, breathing heavily, unlocks the door and lets them inside. He promptly falls onto the floor. “Juliet, that was quite the walk!”
She smirks, sitting at the table lighting the candle. Both she and Gus have been telling Shawn for months now he must move where there is electricity; the lighting is so much better than flickering candlelight. They are quiet for a minute, catching their breaths.
”I think I’ll stay for an hour or so until that man’s lost interest and then head home.”
He holds his wrist close to his face, squinting as he reads his watch. “There’s no reason a dame like you should be walking home at three in the morning.”
“A dame like me?”
“I know you’re more than capable of using that pistol in your purse, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t stay and leave in the morning.” He yawns, stretching on the floor like a cat. “I would not be the gentleman I am if I didn’t offer you.”
She yawns in response.
“Aha! You are tired.” He grins his goofy grin. It makes her roll her eyes, but she has to admit his charade is a little bit charming.
“And say I do stay. Am I going to sleep in your armchair?” It’s the only piece of furniture beyond the wooden chairs, and it’s shoved in the corner beside the cluttered bookshelf.
He rubs his eyes. “Absolutely not. You will have the bed. I will have the armchair.”
She considers it. “Okay.”
--
His sheets smell like him. It’s the faint smell of cigarette smoke from the speakeasy’s customers and hair gel, something she wouldn’t believe she’d wish she would want to capture in a bottle and take home.
Before she knows it, she’s asleep.
--
She wakes up at the crack of dawn. Cursing her work habits interrupting even her day off, Juliet rises, turning to look at her alarm clock only to find it missing.
Right. She is in Shawn’s apartment, still in her day clothes. She’s got a pair of clothing more appropriate for the day time folded neatly in her bag, but she was so exhausted this morning from their running and spying, both she fell asleep without changing. So did Shawn.
Speaking of Shawn, she can hear his snores. She stands, and on the tips of her toes, makes her way into the living room.
Shawn is curled up on the chair, fast asleep. He’s laying in awkwardly, his limbs and neck twisted in a way she’s sure will hurt when he wakes. Oh, Hell. She tiptoes over to him. “ Shawn ,” she whispers. “Shawn!” Still snoring. “ Shawn !”
Shawn awakes and squints at her. “Jules?”
“Come on, you shouldn’t sleep like this.” She takes his hand just as she did last night- softer, more domestic, oh, could she do this for the rest of her life, waking up with him in the same apartment?- and leads him into the bedroom.
“What exactly are we going to do here together?” Shawn teases tiredly.
She rolls her eyes and points at the bed. “Sleep.”
He doesn’t need any more persuading. He flops onto the bed with a groan, face against the pillow. She’s sure he’s asleep when she turns to make herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, but then he speaks. It’s muffled from the pillow but clear.
“Jules, stay.” He turns his head to look at her, his unruly hair a mess in front of his eyes. “There’s enough room, and I know you didn’t get enough sleep.”
That is true. Tiredness still lingers in her bones. Maybe her sleepiness obscures her better judgment because she climbs in beside him without a word. They don’t speak, instead falling back down into sleep’s arms.
“Night, Jules,” Shawn murmurs.
--
Juliet wakes an hour later to Shawn’s face next to hers. His arm wrapped around her sometime in the hours they both slept, his chest pressing against her arm with each breath. She should move, get up and go home, but she doesn’t. Juliet takes in his warmth and goes back to sleep.