Work Text:
“Oh! Damien!”
Damien sits up and turns his head to the familiar voice. The district attorney had just stepped out of their office, struggling to shrug on their gray coat and satchel. The corners of his lips quirk at the sight, and he rises to meet them.
He extends his arm to hold the district attorney’s bag, which they pass off gratefully. “Hello, old friend.”
“Hello. What brings you here?” they ask, finally managing to slot one of their arms through the sleeves.
“No reason,” he says mildly, nodding at the secretaries and paralegals passing by. He recognizes a few of the assistant district attorneys sitting in their cubicles, chatting idly with one another.
“Mr. Mayor!” one of them greets. “If we knew you were coming, we would have done a welcoming party.”
Damien shakes his head with a smile. “No need to trouble yourself with that. Just make sure that our newly elected district attorney gets settled in fine.”
“Hush,” his friend says, leveling him with a look before peering over his shoulder. “Crank, Smiles, you guys should head on home. We’ve done about as much as we can today.”
“Yes boss!”
They nudge at Damien’s elbow, and the two of them make their way to the elevators. A serviceman nods at them when they step through one of the lifts.
Once in the lobby, where there are less people around, the attorney shifts closer, quirking their mouth to the side to whisper, “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Of course,” Damien mutters back, smiling down at them. “Did you get an invitation sent to you today?”
“Surprisingly enough, I did. I’m assuming you received one as well?”
He hums. “I think we should go. We haven’t seen him in a while.”
They nod, looking somber. “I hope Mark’s doing okay. After everything that happened…it’s just been a mess.”
Damien holds his tongue, at least until they’ve stepped outside. The sky abruptly shifts from baby blue to dark gray. The downpour catches them off-guard, too, and the district attorney panics, patting their coat for an umbrella.
He waves the one in his hand, kept tucked by his side, and they sigh in relief, looking at him with fondness. “Thank you. It’s been a hectic day.”
“I can imagine.” He opens the large, black umbrella to shield them from the downpour. “The missing bodies have been a growing concern for the public. The only thing I can do to assuage them is to tell them that we’ve been working as hard as we can to catch the killer. Or—killers.”
The district attorney sighs. “If only we had the technology.”
Damien’s brows knit. “Technology?”
“AFIS. DNA tests. Nice, automated labs that can—” they freeze, eyes wide. “I—sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.” They shake their head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll catch the bastard responsible for this.”
Sometimes, like now, the district attorney will make comments or say things out loud that don’t quite make sense. It’s as if they’re ages old and have seen too many lifetimes, as they would reference things that they’ve done that Damien knows are impossible for how short they’ve lived.
And then they would catch themselves. They would stop, just like they did now, reeling in all of the anecdotes that slipped past their lips, clamming up their words and redirecting it to something else.
In the past, during college, Damien would ask them to elaborate, but they never would. He’s since learned to let it go.
“Well, best of luck. I’ll do my best to see if we can allocate any more funding or people over to your department.”
They smile gratefully up at him, and under the cover of the umbrella, they lean forward to give him a kiss.
It was close-mouthed, and it’s as much as they could afford in the busy streets of the city, as two people in their positions of power.
They pout when they part. “I don’t want others thinking you dote on me or that you just give me the tools I need because we’ve known each other forever.”
“No one would think that,” Damien says, shaking his head. He tucks away a stray lock off of the attorney’s forehead. “You rose up through the ranks on your own merit, not because I handed that to you. You studied hard and worked hard to get to where you are now.”
They hum. “Not too many see that.”
“Maybe so. But life—”
“—is ours to choose, yes,” they finish with a small chuckle. “I’ll be the best district attorney there was.”
“I know you will.”
They steal kisses again, and again, and again, making Damien’s head spin. He nearly doesn’t hear what the attorney has to say, and he has to ask them to repeat it.
In the space between their mouths, they say, “I wish I could do this to you all the time.”
“Well,” Damien says, eyes locked dazedly on the district attorney's lips, “we’ll have all the time once we get home, won’t we?”
Another kiss. “Yes,” they laugh, and Damien thinks it pairs nicely with the pitter-patter of the rain. “Yes, we will.”