Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Soho streets were practically deserted. Icy rain had been falling all afternoon, punctuated by fierce gusts of wind. Doors and windows rattled in their frames and the few people to brave the weather were clutching tightly to umbrellas that threatened to be blown inside out at the next gust.

The workday was long finished, yet warm light shone through the windows of the Strike and Ellacott Detective Agency, giving the appearance that the office was still inhabited. Seeing the lit windows, Robin Ellacott smiled, which was surprising, given the day she’d had.

Opening the heavy black door, she quickly ducked inside, glad to be out of the rain for the first time in 12 hours. She wiped a few errant raindrops from the damp skin of her face and stomped her heavy boots on the doormat, willing the soles to dry before she tackled the steep metal staircase.

She’d only come back to the office because it was quicker than going home. At least that’s what she told herself. She’d just write up her surveillance notes quickly. And if he happened to be there, well, that was inconsequential. Nothing to do with why she was standing at the bottom of the stairs now, dripping wet, after tailing a foot courier around the financial district all day.

She mounted the staircase, treading carefully and holding onto the bannister. She knew all too well how slippery it became when wet. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself again, not with the possibility of her partner being upstairs; he would doubtlessly hear any noise and come out to investigate.

Safely at the top, Robin pushed open the door to the outer office. It was, as she had expected, deserted. She hung her dripping umbrella on its hook and had just removed her raincoat when Cormoran’s curly head appeared through the door to their shared office.

“Jesus, Ellacott! You look like you’ve swam the length of the Thames! What are you doing here?”

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” she quipped. Her tone was light and playful despite the trials of the day.

“You staying?”

Robin nodded. “Just for a bit. Want to write up my notes.”

“I’ll put the kettle on. Got some spare clothes in your holdall? I can get some things from my flat if you don’t.”

Robin thought quickly. The idea of snuggling up in one of Cormoran’s cosy sweaters was incredibly appealing. It might even smell like him. The woodsy, spicy smell was so unique to her partner and, unbeknownst to him, had become one of her greatest comforts.

“I’ve got a pair of joggers and a t- shirt. Wouldn’t say no to a sweater, though, if you’ve got a spare.”

Cormoran smiled as he stood and walked toward the door. “Be right back”, he called over his shoulder.

Robin set the kettle to boil and retrieved her holdall of spare clothes from the cupboard in the partners’ office. She quickly stripped down to her underwear, finding that they too were soaked from the rain. Shrugging, she removed them and quickly pulled on the soft grey pants and navy t-shirt that she kept handy in case of occasions like this. She found a pair of thick, cosy socks and pulled them over her cold, damp feet. She dragged a brush through her hair a few times, distributing the moisture held there, which only served to make her feel more bedraggled. She took the hair tie from her wrist and piled her hair messily atop her head, securing it into something of a bun.

As she returned to the outer office, she heard Cormoran’s uneven tread on the stairs. He appeared, strong arms laden with far more than a sweater.
“Didn’t want you to catch a chill,” he shrugged, by way of explanation.

Robin saw then that, yes, he had the promised sweater, but also a soft burgundy knitted throw blanket and what appeared to be a hot water bottle in a yellow woollen case. She laughed.

“Give it here, then.”

The sweater was cream with an intricate knitted pattern and was made of the softest wool Robin had ever felt. She pulled it over her head, enjoying the immediate feeling of warmth that surrounded her. It was so large that the hem fell well past her hips and she needed to roll the sleeves up several times. It felt perfect.

Cormoran coughed and Robin suddenly realised that she had been staring at the sweater for longer than was probably appropriate. “Joan made it. Last Christmas before she died. She’d knit me a sweater every Christmas of my life. Reckon this one suits you better, though,” he shrugged.

Robin felt overwhelmed by his kindness, all of a sudden. “Thanks Cormoran. Really.” Casting around for something to say, she remembered the other items he’d carried down from her flat.

“What else’ve you got there?”

Cormoran looked down at the bundle still in his arms. Was he blushing?

“Uhh. Blanket and a hot water bottle? Maybe bit of an overkill, come to think of it.”

“Nope. Not at all. It's freezing out there. Haven’t felt my toes since noon.”

Robin reached out and grabbed the bundle, tossing the blanket to the sofa and carrying the hot water bottle to the kitchenette where she filled it using water from the just-boiled kettle.

She settled on the sofa with her laptop, tucking the hot water bottle against her feet and tugging the blanket over her lap. Comfortable, finally, she beamed at him.

It was almost too much for Cormoran to handle, seeing his business partner looking so soft and cosy. They’d been growing closer in the past months, since her separation from Ryan Murphy. He felt like they were inching toward something which they both silently acknowledged but never discussed. Nights like this, with the two of them in the office late into the evening, were increasingly common, and most recently, rarely involved actual work.

“What were you up to before I rudely interrupted?” Robin’s gentle voice broke through Cormoran’s thoughts.

“Oh, just, you know…” he stammered. “Just this and that.” He was most definitely blushing now.

Robin decided to be bold. “You know you can admit it, if you were sitting around waiting to see if I turned up.” She met his eye and gave a playful grin.

“Ha!” Cormoran let out an unstable laugh and threw his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I was hoping you’d come back. But I swear I was working too.”.

“Right then!” Robin’s grin stretched almost the width of her face. “I’m getting to these notes, then how about a Chinese? All I’ve eaten today is a wet sandwich and a bag of almonds.”

—--

An hour and a half later found the partners sitting on opposite sides of Pat’s desk, near-empty containers of Chinese food between them.

“See, this is some kind of bullshit,” Strike waved his chopsticks in the direction of the single remaining spring roll. He took a swig of his beer before continuing. “They always come in odd numbers, these things. Now how do we decide who gets the extra one?”.

Robin laughed, narrowly avoiding inhaling the wine she had just drunk. “In the past, you would have just taken it!”

“Forgive me for my sins, Ellacott. I’m a changed man! Still not going to just offer it up to you though.”

“How about we play for it?” There was a definite twinkle in Robin’s eye, now. Perhaps it was the second glass of wine, or the feeling of warmth emanating from Cormoran’s cosy sweater, she thought. Tonight the boundaries felt a little more elastic.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, let’s play a game, and the winner gets the extra spring roll.”

Cormoran smiled. He liked playful Robin. He really liked playful, second-glass-of-wine Robin. This was a Robin of flirty touches and giggles and sassy banter.

“You’re on. Got a game in mind?”

“How about two truths and a lie? Ever played that?”

“Can’t say as I have,” he said, shrugging.

“It's easy. One of us says three ‘facts’ about ourselves. Two of them are true, one’s a lie. The other person picks which ‘fact’ is the lie. If you pick right, you get a point. Pick wrong, point to the other person. Let’s say, first to three points is the winner.”

“Poor choice of game, Ellacott. You’ve got a tell, when you’re lying. That spring roll is as good as mine.”

Robin laughed, twirling an escaped lock of hair around her finger. “Reckon I know you pretty well, Cormoran Blue Strike. Don’t count me out yet.” She caught his eye and threw him a conspiratorial grin.

Robin picked up her wine glass and carried it over to the sofa. There was a definite sway to her hips as she walked. She tucked herself into one corner and patted the remaining cushion, inviting her partner to join her.

“May as well get comfy,” she shrugged.

Cormoran hesitated for a beat before standing. He tossed his empty beer bottle into the bin and grabbed a fresh one from the fridge. He waved the wine bottle at Robin. “Top up?”

“Please.”

He settled next to her on the sofa, throwing his feet up onto the coffee table. Cormoran drank deeply from his beer.

“Off you go, then,” he gestured, waving a hand in her direction.

“Oh me first? Right.” Robin picked at the corner of the throw blanket. She felt nervous, all of a sudden, unsure of what to say that could keep the atmosphere light and playful while still steering them gently towards, what? She shook her head lightly before continuing.

“Okay. Umm.. When I was in 4th grade, I climbed to the top of this mulberry tree on my uncle’s farm. I was up there for an hour or so, eating mulberries until my hands and face were purple. Then I needed to go to the bathroom, so I tried to climb down but I got stuck. The fire brigade had to come and get me down because the tree was so tall.”

“Reckon that’s true. I can see it. Little Robin, stuck in a tree.”

“That’s not how it works!” Robin was indignant. “You’ve got to wait until you’ve heard all three before you guess!”. Cormoran shrugged.

“I’ll still reckon it's true, then.”

Sighing dramatically and rolling her eyes, she continued. “I’ve got a favourite spoon. Can’t eat cereal off any other spoon. It’s got a little daisy on the handle.”

“Hmm…” Cormoran started, but Robin cut him off by slapping playfully at his knee. 

“Wait! I’ve got one more to go! Umm.. I really love egg sandwiches?” she shrugged.

“‘Too easy, Ellacott. Like I said. Gotta be that you are lying about the spoon. Noone has a favourite spoon. That’s just stupid.”.

Robin’s answering smile could only be described as smug.

“That’s a point to me, Strike! Of course I have a favourite spoon. It’s the perfect shape! It’s just the right size, fits a good mouthful of cereal and is deep enough for plenty of milk, too!”.

“Bullshit! So, the tree was the lie?”

“Nope! I forgot to add that the fire brigade took three hours to get there, so I just sat in the tree eating mulberries until they came.  As soon as they got me down I threw up purple vomit all over the fireman’s boots.”

Strike’s answering laugh rattled through the office, and Robin couldn’t help but join in. It took a few minutes for them to regain their composure.

“Wait… then there was no lie. I buy you egg sandwiches all the time…”

“And I eat them because I’m grateful that you thought of me?” Robin answered, voice suddenly laced with doubt.

Strike’s face fell. “Why have you never said something? Now I feel like a shit friend.”

“Please don’t.” Robin reached out and gently squeezed his knee. “Better late than never, and,” she winked cheekily, trailing the tips of her fingers along his knee as she withdrew, “it’s got me a third of the way to that spring roll, so don’t lose sleep over it!”

The office window rattled with a particularly strong gust of wind. Cormoran’s answering shiver had very little to do with cold.

She leaned forward to take her wine glass from the coffee table, and as she settled back into the sofa, Cormoran noticed that she was decidedly closer to him than she had been before. He smiled at her, then. A soft, gentle smile that he reserved only for Robin and only for these quiet, golden nights. She returned it with a smile of her own before speaking again. Her voice was warmer, now. Still playful, but with an undercurrent of something else. It made him feel brave.

“Alright, Strike. Time for me to prove that I am, in fact, the best detective in London.”

“Pfft. No chance Ellacott.” His eyes sparkled. “Right. You’ll never get this. I’ve got a favourite bench in Green Park. It's under a really old elm tree and if I have nothing else to do, I’ll just go and sit there, sometimes for hours. Sometimes I’ll read. Sometimes I just sit. Dunno. It's peaceful.”

Robin pondered this. It didn’t fit with her idea of how her partner would spend his spare time, but on a deeper level, she knew that there was more to him than he let on. He continued.

“Second, and it kind of relates to the first one, but I’m always happier on my own than with other people.”

Robin scoffed. “Strike, you’re forgetting how well I know you already. You mustn’t want that spring roll very badly.”

“Hey! You got mad at me for interrupting! Third,” He glared at her in mock seriousness “Third is that my Army nickname was Monkey Boy. Because of the way I eat a banana.” He raised one eyebrow in challenge.

Robin couldn’t hold in her giggle. “Cormoran Strike, you have never eaten a banana in your life!” She was laughing properly now. “I call it. That’s the lie. The banana one.” She wiped a tear from her eye before looking at him.

He was grinning now, too. “I’ll have you know, Ellacott, that I do, in fact, open bananas from the bottom, like a monkey.”

“Stop it. Okay.” she drew a shaky breath, struggling to get her laughing fit under control. “I’ll hold you to proving this, I’ll have you know.”  She reached for her wine and took a long sip. It was warming, now, and losing its appeal. She was perplexed by the two remaining options. Either Cormoran didn’t spend hours sitting alone on a bench in Green Park, or he didn’t prefer his own company.

“Okay, so then the park bench is the lie?”

“I’ve taken you there, before. We’ve had lunch on that bench. Remember that day, last August?”

Robin drew the memory to the front of her mind and played it. Cormoran had only just returned to work. It had just been the two of them in the office. The first time they’d been alone together. He’d asked if she’d fancy a walk. They strolled to Green Park, bought some sandwiches from Pret on the way. They walked closely, the backs of their hands brushing together. But, she’d been seeing Ryan by then.

“I’ve always thought I preferred being alone.” His voice was deep, husky and made the little hairs on Robin’s neck stand on end. “Realised lately that there is some company I prefer.”

Cormoran stretched his long arm along the back of the sofa. “One all, Ellacott”. He drank the remainder of his beer, and noticed that Robin was shuffling a little uncomfortably on the couch. “Alright?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“Yeah, just trying to get comfortable.” She tucked her legs up underneath her and leaned back into the sofa. She could feel the warmth from her partner’s arm, so close behind her. She pushed herself back a little further, bringing her shoulders in contact with his forearm. She felt him stiffen slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

Cormoran’s sweater was warm and cosy and the wine she’d drunk was giving Robin the confidence to be a little more daring than usual.

“Okay. My turn again. First, when I was a little kid, I used to have these elaborate birthday parties and I’d spend months planning them, like making a schedule of when we would watch movies, when we’d paint our nails, craft time. And if anyone veered from the schedule, I’d get really cross. Little Robin was a bit neurotic.”

He laughed at this, imagining his partner’s headstrong personality transposed onto a little girl. He could just picture her in her party clothes, hair done nicely, bossing all the other girls around. He wondered, idly, if he’d ever get the chance to learn more about her childhood. Or even see photos, maybe.

She moved, then, and he was reminded of the contact between his arm and her back. He shifted slightly, lowering his arm so it was more draped around her shoulders than slung across the back of the sofa. He felt emboldened by the beer and the intimate atmosphere created by the sharing of personal information. He felt Robin lean even further back into his arm and could have sworn he heard a faint sigh.

“Second,” her voice was quiet now, and she looked down into her folded hands. “I’m really enjoying being single. It’s almost like I’m getting to know myself for the first time, as an adult.”

At this, Cormoran felt his heart sink. He’d thought.. What? He was certain that he hadn’t been reading the signs wrong. He was sure that there was something between them and he’d been waiting, gently stretching the boundaries, for the perfect time to make his move. What if this was her lie? Could she be putting out some feelers, trying to gauge his receptiveness? He decided to test the waters a little. He gently stroked the pad of his thumb across her shoulder and felt a definite shiver. He smiled. He felt sure he was correct.

Robin had been thrown off-balance. Suddenly the wine, the sweater, his arm around her were all working together to destabilise her rather than comfort her. And then there was the gentle brush of his thumb. Did he even recognise that he was doing it? She looked at him, out of the corner of her eye and saw his smile. Oh. He definitely knows what he is doing. She felt a warm smile growing, but didn’t allow it to reach her face. Robin felt both anxious and excited by the knowledge that tonight might finally be the night that broke the stalemate.

She knew what she wanted to say, and hoped it would convey the right amount of emotion. She exhaled and spoke, voice shaky, barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been happier than these past few months. Things feel good. That’s my third one.”

“Hmm,” Cormoran sighed. He resumed his gentle stroking of Robin’s shoulder, now with no mistake that his arm was firmly around her. She leaned into his touch, inviting him to continue. He squeezed her upper arm, encouraging her to snuggle softly into his side. “Okay?” he asked.

“Mmm, yeah. Okay.”

He was silent, waiting, as if he knew she had something more to add.

“I think,” she whispered, “that this is what I miss most. About being with someone. The physical closeness. Just being touched. You know? Maybe physical touch is my love language.” She gave a little self-conscious giggle. “So thank you. Feels good.”

“Dunno about love languages. But I know what you mean.” He pulled her in closer, for a moment. “Feels good.” 

“Well,” Robin continued. “I’m here, you know. If you ever feel like you need it.” At this he squeezed her closely again, leaning his head to the side to press his cheek into her hair. They sat like this, breathing softly and listening to the rain slap at the windows, before Robin continued.

“So. What was my lie?”

“I think that you cheated.”

“Huh?” She looked up into his face, surprised by the tenderness she found there.

“I think that, while being single has helped you get to know yourself, you aren’t enjoying it so much. So you only told a half-lie”

He smiled at her, soft light only serving to make him appear more handsome, more gentle. More the man she was in love with.

“I think…” he paused, here, unsure how much to share, “you get joy from sharing something good with someone else. Like this work. Neither of us would love it as much if we weren’t doing it together.” He shrugged. “Figured you’d be the same with the rest of your life.”

Robin sat with this, allowing Cormoran’s words to fill the spaces in her mind. How was it possible that he had so succinctly summarised something so personal that she didn’t even know how to explain herself.
She laid her head, then, on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

If I could live in one single moment forever, Robin thought, it would be this one. She felt like she was standing atop a mountain after a long, hard climb. Like it had all been worth it now that she was at the top and could look down into the valley below and see just how beautiful it was.

“So was I right?” His question broke her reverie.

“Uhh, yeah. I guess so. But I didn’t think I was cheating. Felt like it was a whole lie, until you explained it like that.”

“Point to me, then.” She felt the rumble of his voice vibrate through her body. “But if you think you are getting away without me commenting on little Robin’s highly organised birthday parties, you’d be wrong!” They both laughed now, the kind of shared laughter that echos in the area between two people, amplified and encouraged by the enclosed space.

As their laughter settled, Robin rested a hand gently on Cormoran’s thigh, squeezing softly. In turn, he bent and softly kissed the top of her head. “Still okay?” he rumbled.

“Mmm. Yeah. Thanks for checking, though.”

“Of course.” Cormoran’s statement made it seem like the most natural thing in the world, to check. To ask consent. And it was then, in that moment, that Robin realised that even after all these years of knowing, it was only now that she really knew that Cormoran was not only the man she loved, but could also be the partner that she needed.

“Cormoran,” she whispered. “It's your turn.”

“Right.”

He pressed another kiss to her head and ran his fingers lightly from the point of her shoulder to the crook of her elbow. She turned into him, nuzzled further into his chest and pressed her cheek into the soft fabric of his sweater. Her right hand came across his body to rest on his chest, next to her face and he wrapped his other arm around her back. They were hugging properly now, bodies pressed closely together. Robin could both hear and feel Cormoran’s heart thundering in his chest. It’s all been building to this, she thought, so curious to see what he would say now that they were cuddled so closely together, clear that they were both wanting so much more.

“I don’t care about the spring roll.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to make you guess. I don’t want there to be any way you could doubt what I’m about to say.”

“Okay.” She could barely contain her emotions and all of a sudden she found herself on the verge of tears. She drew a shaky breath, waiting for him to continue.

“You know when we’re on a case and have a big breakthrough? What’s your immediate reaction?”

Robin was puzzled by the sudden turn of direction that their conversation had taken. She wiped at the corner of her eye, where a tear was gathering.

“Call you and tell you? Why?”

“Yeah, it's the same for me. Except this time I couldn’t tell you. And it's been eating me up, knowing what I know and not telling you.”

“But we’re not…”

“I need you…”

They both spoke at the same time and a heavy silence fell.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “go on?”

“I need you to know, now.”

He was holding his breath and she could tell that he was nervous. She traced her fingertips gently across his chest, her hand coming to rest softly on the collar of his sweater. She gently toyed with the zipper, seeking to silently soothe him and remind him that she wasn’t going anywhere. 

“I’m in love with you, Robin.” He said it on an exhale, all in one breath and she immediately drew it within her, willing his words to become part of her, to flow through her body.

“How long have you known?” came her whispered reply. She tenderly stroked the soft skin right above his collar, enjoying the rough contrast of the chest hairs that were peeking out. She felt his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Since the moment you walked out of my hospital room, for your date with Murphy.” Their eyes met, Robin’s shining slightly with unshed tears. He pressed a sweet kiss to her temple, enjoying the feeling of her soft, warm skin on his lips.

“Oof. Rough timing.” He laughed now, against her skin, and she thought that there was no sound she liked quite as much.

“Tell me about it!”

He dropped another kiss, feather light, this time on the apple of her cheek. She sighed and her eyes drifted closed.

“I mean, I’ve known since Charlotte told me you were dating Madeline, so I think we’re even.”

Another sweet kiss, this time just below her ear, where her jaw joined her neck.

“Known what, Robin?” His voice was heavy with emotion, his eyes pleading. “Can I hear you say it? Please?” Robin knew that she would never forget the way his face looked in this moment, so full of hope and wonder.

“I love you, Cormoran.”

His answering smile, made golden by the soft light, drew her towards him until their lips met gently for the first time. It was easy and comfortable and like nothing Robin had ever felt before. She smiled against his lips, which were softer than she could ever have imagined.

“C’mere,” he rasped as she began to pull away.

As they pressed together again, he sighed deeply, pulling her body tight against his. Robin felt his lips begin to part and she opened her mouth to him, allowing him to kiss her deeply. Robin’s fingers were still toying with the zip of his sweater and her other hand tangled in the messy curls at the nape of his neck.

“Robin…” he breathed, as they parted, coming to rest their foreheads together. “Would you want… maybe, to come upstairs?” She could hear the nerves in his voice. “Not for anything,” he added quickly. “But,” he looked at the clock on the wall, “it's late. And I’m not ready to say goodnight.”

She stood and, taking his hand, helped to pull him to his feet. They embraced then, and for the first time, Cormoran allowed himself the pleasure of feeling her body pressed closely into his.

“Come on,” she whispered, and together they gathered the empty containers and the single, cold spring roll and dumped them in the bin.

“Forgot to tell you.” She whispered, as they climbed the spiral staircase to his flat. “I don’t even really like spring rolls.”