Work Text:
“Three days off?”
A smile curved Fatima’s lips as she repeated OA’s words back to him, an amazed, faintly wondering tone to her voice. “Yes,” he confirmed, watching her smile go wider. “Isobel confirmed it a few minutes ago… as a reward for saving the city”
“Again,” Fatima interjected, her dark eyes dancing.
“Again,” OA echoed, “we have seventy two hours to ourselves.”
Leaning back against her desk, Fatima crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve had three days off in a row since I moved to New York.”
OA knew she hadn’t, because he hadn’t either. Their shifts had aligned, which was nice because they saw each other all the time, but also not so nice because it meant that they had to be on their best behaviour at work. Which was fine - OA could be professional.
It was just that he didn’t always want to be.
Fatima was still looking at him, a light in her eyes that was definitely veering towards the unprofessional. “Do you have any ideas about what we could do?”
He had several. He’d also be willing to bet, if the tone of her voice and the tilt of her head was any indication, that she shared most of them. With that in mind, he glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them and, satisfied, stepped closer to her, almost but not quite into her personal space. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not letting you out of our bedroom.”
He saw her pupils dilate, heard her sharp intake of breath. She sounded a little breathless when she said, “Then you’d better take me home,” and she didn’t have to tell him twice.