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Vi comes back in the afternoon.
Not through the door of course.
It’s when Caitlyn’s at the tail end of the witness accounts, after peeling apart dozens of notes, photos, and figures and sorting them into stacks. She’s paused, rolling her thumb across the pads of her fingers. Aimless motion. Recalling names and faces of those she spoke to. Business owners, bystanders. The details come easier when she paces, bare feet slipping across the wood floor. Gaze idle, steps short. In no hurry, slowly unwinding memory.
The sun is high now. It paints the second story room with a broad brush, warming the still air. She widens her circle onto the overdyed rug so that she can fold the cardigan from her shoulders onto the back of a chair. She rounds to her desk, a beast carved from mahogany. The top left drawer has her string and tacks. She retrieves her notebook, too, leaves it on the desktop, but keeps the pen she finds. Lets her fingers fidget with it as she ambles to the far wall.
It’s the only wall without windows or doors. It’s reserved for clippings, pictures, maps, notes, leads. It’s got the marks to prove it, the cream paint speckled with pin holes and scratch marks. Recently cleared. Another case closed. A new one following right after.
Yes, it’s right when she’s pressing a pin into her first witness account that she hears boots hit the roof.
Late.
Caitlyn stays faced forward, appearing thoughtful, studious.
The only thing on her mind is the sound of steps above her, the shuffle of weight on the gutter, the dull thud of someone dropping onto the window ledge. The quiet tap at the window.
Caitlyn scoffs, feeling betrayed by the curl of her lips, already beguiled. She angles her head back gradually, finding eager eyes the shade of sky.
Vi, hanging by a hand on the other side of the glass.
She waves, lazy and cocksure, grin widening under Caitlyn’s gaze, teeth peeking out.
Caitlyn watches her, trying to glare while her hand guards her lips. She turns back to the board before she becomes obvious.
“It’s open.”
Has been. For the last hour.
Hinges creak and there is a shuffle of movement, the husk of cloth and leather as Vi slinks in. Cautious. Quieter than usual.
"How mad are you?"
Caitlyn presses her lips shut, flips up a scrap of paper on the wall to squint at the scrawl underneath, underlining nothing important.
Vi whistles. "Pretty mad."
The window is closed with a thunk, the metal latch ringing as it’s locked. They are both silent and the atmosphere shifts. Tightens. Not tension but intention. Promise that makes the air hang heavy, drapes warm across the skin.
She can hear Vi–the jingle of a buckle, the whump of a jacket being tossed. Can feel her in the room, where she is. Prowling. Leisurely closing the space. Her presence tangible a few feet away. A palpable physicality. It pulls at her like a wave.
Caitlyn pushes back.
“What even was the point of getting you a watch?” She tries to sound exasperated.
Warmth and lean muscle slots against her, rough hands alight on her hips. Greedy; they push up the fabric so that Vi can feel.
Heat and breath grazes along her neck, her shoulder. Touch follows. Vi’s lips flicker over her skin, whisper-light, tracing the curve to her pulse. She stays, presses in, breathes out a sigh.
"Lost track of time. 'M sorry."
It should be frustrating how easily Vi unfurls her, how maddeningly simple it is, the barest of pressures easing her shoulders down from her ears. Stress ebbs from her jaw.
Caitlyn gave up on fully understanding it ages ago. Left it in a messy tangle of passion and adoration somewhere in some corner of her mind. She bends to her, humming when Vi’s hands start to drift. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Vi huffs a laugh against her. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn pivots carefully out of her grasp.
“I was just about to get started on our newest case.”
She pads over to pick up Vi’s jacket, heading towards the coat stand by the door. When she chances a peek back, Vi’s still standing there, hands poised before she slowly moves to rest them on her own hips.
She gives her side long look, eyebrows high. “So, it’s like that huh.”
The jacket goes on the hook. Caitlyn wipes a scuff of dirt off of one of the red sleeves, twists a loose thread around her finger.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
She strolls back to the desk to dig out a softened leather bound pad and a few drawing pencils. “We’re behind schedule. I wanted to have the Cogsmith case hung up and organized by the end of today.”
“I thought we were going to cut back on long days,” Vi says dryly, chin tipped in challenge.
“We are. When we’ve worked a full one.”
Vi’s chin dips back down, foot absently tapping a rhythm as her mind turns, gray eyes roving. Trying to find a way out. Caitlyn waits. Waits for her to realize there isn’t one. That she will only be out that door and heading home with her once every bit of this case is on that wall.
They may both be stubborn, and it’s a competition for first prize most days, but they both know who has the patience.
Vi shuts her eyes and heaves a dramatic sigh. “Do you have the witness descriptions?”
Caitlyn offers her the sketch pad with a smile. “Middle pile.”
-
They settle into relative peace.
Vi moves over to sketch in the sunlight while Caitlyn works on decorating the walls with evidence. Starting with where.
The scene of the crime, type of building, layout, nearby streets, setting out the immediate surrounding area. Next are people. Victims, witnesses, lists of suspects. What are the connections, who was impacted, who is who, who knows who, establish motive. Then things, was anything taken, what was the value, what did it do?
It’s her system. She starts with a broad view, generalities, and then works her way down, sifting through specifics till the focus is clear.
The difficult part is that some things don’t fit, making the whole image blur. Random findings, odd evidence, conflicting reports. Things that were found or described that don’t have a place yet.
She underlines the neighbor, Mr. Giffard, a reminder to look into him and his relationship to Mx. Cogsmith. Worth a revisit.
It’s when she’s leafing through her guide on liquid splatters, pacing the room, when she nearly runs over someone.
Vi folded up on the floor. Right in her path.
Caitlyn stares down at her, blinking away inky after-images. She hadn’t heard her move.
Vi stays honed in on her sketch pad, drawing the guidelines for one of the face proportions.
Nevermind.
Caitlyn adds four extra steps to her pacing, going around her. Except now she’s bumping into her desk two steps before she usually turns.
She’d had the perfect path and Vi just–
Caitlyn sends a look over her shoulder, inspecting her with a frown.
Vi pen isn’t moving.
She’s also smirking.
Fiend.
Caitlyn walks over, clears her throat when Vi still won’t look up.
“Excuse me.”
“You’re excused.”
Caitlyn tuts. “You’re in the way.”
Vi sneaks a look at her, fails to tuck her smile away. Rolls her shoulders, disaffected.
“I’m just sittin’ here. Is that a crime?”
“You’re trying to get on my nerves so that I’ll give up and we can go home.”
Vi peers up at her, lays her jawline on her fist. Handsome face passive while her tone stays sly. “I’m not sure you have any evidence to support your claim.”
Caitlyn nudges her hip with her foot. “Oh I’ll give you evidence.”
Vi chuckles and catches her by the ankle. The pencil and pad are put to the side, her other hand lifting to stroke along her calf.
“Say I was, hypothetically, trying to piss you off.”
Caitlyn hums, rolling on the ball of her planted foot, trying to stay balanced. Vi notices, lets her down, only if it means getting her right against her side.
Vi’s chin tilts as she kisses her knee. Glittering silver irises stare up at her, too reverent, too bright.
“Is it working?”
The hand moves higher, running up her thigh.
“Hardly.”
Another kiss, above her knee, lingering. Vi’s gaze briefly meets hers.
“Damn.”
Caitlyn shoots a glance over at the small tower of paper she’s yet to pin. Over at the clock on the wall, the hand barely past five. Down at a mostly empty sketch pad.
Then back at Vi, on her knees now, eyes closed, content, as she noses at the inside of her thigh.
Caitlyn reaches down to take hold of her chin, softly turn up her face.
“You are incorrigible.”
Vi shrugs, both hands meandering upward, stroking along the flesh until it pebbles.
“You like it.”
Caitlyn takes her thumb and leisurely draws along the seam of Vi’s lower lip. She can see that spark in her eyes, feel the flex of fingers on her hips, when Vi finds heat that matches hers.
“In certain endeavors, yes.” Caitlyn murmurs.
Vi breathes out noisily, tries to press her lips against the pad of her thumb before Caitlyn can tuck it back under her chin.
Caitlyn shakes her head, fond and flustered. She moves her touch upward, petting over short shaved prickles before smoothing fingers through thick red strands. Vi pours into her palm, shoulders slack, leaning into the strokes.
Caitlyn lowers her voice, sows her tone with tenderness and anticipation. “As much as I like you like this, we do have work to finish.”
Vi hums, deep in her chest, close enough for Caitlyn to feel it. Stirring shocks under her flesh.
Her shirt wrinkles. Vi noses at the new skin she’s exposed.
“We could take a break.”
Teeth slide across her hip.
Caitlyn grabs a hold of a fistful of hair and angles Vi’s mouth away from her. Keeping sparks from catching. Watches with longing eyes as Vi’s jaw tenses and the silver in her eyes oxidizes, swallowed by black.
“I’d much rather take my time with you.” She breathes and it’s unsteady. She tries to be resolute but she still wavers. Too viscous, too warm.
She starts to back out of her reach and Vi’s grip goes lax, letting her. She pats her cheek.
“I’ll make it worth your while later. Promise.”
Vi sits back on her haunches with a quiet groan, rubs at her knees.
“You better.”
-
She’s interrupted again when a hand pulls her notebook down from her face.
“Would you put these on?”
Vi’s stalling her again, stomped up with a pair of wire frame spectacles and a scowl.
Caitlyn blinks, goes and makes a quick note before she loses her train of thought. “They're just cheaters. I hardly need them.”
Eyes roll, a cut brow lowers. “You’ve been squinting at your notes since I got here. Put ‘em on before your head explodes.”
Caitlyn scoffs but takes them because it’s faster than arguing. She slides on her specs and the pressure behind her eyes does ease. The scrawl in her hand becomes far more decipherable.
“Better?”
Caitlyn admits the truth around a sigh, goes back to the line she was reading. “Yes. Thank you.”
She slows to a stop when she catches her reflection in the mirror, repositions the crooked tilt of her frames. Considering herself for a long stretch then tracking Vi when she comes up behind her, peering over her shoulder.
A sharp gaze scans her features, Vi’s brow furrowing. “You’re so stubborn about those things.”
Caitlyn folds her arms, frowns. “I’m adjusting.”
She’s too used to the way she looks in a mirror and now there’s this addition of glass and metal. They’re only three weeks new. She still doesn’t know how she feels about them. How they sit on her face.
“Do you think I look strange?”
Vi goes quiet, gaze thoughtful. Her palms lift slowly to settle on Caitlyn’s shoulders, calluses nipping her skin.
“You look like you.”
Caitlyn glances at her, waiting for elaboration.
Vi props her chin on her shoulder, glancing between their reflections as her grin starts to grow. “You know, sexy.”
Caitlyn barks a laugh, can feel a burn rising in her cheeks. “Oh really?”
Vi’s teeth appear, smile warming, a shade too red. “Yeah. Like hey, what’re you doin’ later?”
Caitlyn laughs softly, bumps back against her hip. “Finishing this case.”
Vi unhooks her chin with a click of her tongue but doesn’t go far. The hands on her shoulders stay, start to dig, thumbs moving in tight rough circles. Caitlyn lets out a breath, rolling her neck in a slow circle. Encouraging. All the stress in her upper body begins to unwind, fibers unspun. Vi presses a muscle till it spasms loose. She lets out a low whine.
“That feels wonderful.”
“You’re all tense.” Vi murmurs.
Caitlyn shuts her eyes, enjoying the closeness, the quiet, the contentment. Begins to sink into it. The touch, the slope of Vi’s body moving against hers.
Her eyes shoot open.
“I- no!”
She steps out of Vi’s clutches and whirls on her.
“Quit that! I know what you’re doing.”
Vi has her palms up, gleaming eyes creased at the corners.
“Doing what?”
“You know what.” Caitlyn snides. No where near mad, only slightly exasperated, mightily affectionate.
Vi lets her palms down to smack against her thighs. She turns to the side to hide her face, rolling her own arms in absent circles.
“Are you accusing me of ulterior motives?”
The laughter in her voice is so obvious. It is in Caitlyn’s too.
“Shut up. I can see you smiling, you git.”
Vi turns back towards her, smile fanged, voice low and eyes half lidded, “I’m just trying to help you relax.”
Caitlyn lobs her notebook at her while Vi barks a laugh and springs away.
-
The sketches are finally finished, tacked up and connected by strings. The accounts waiting to be hung up alongside them. They’ve traded theories back and forth but now as the hour has worn on, Caitlyn mostly talks while Vi hums bleary responses.
She suspects she’ll turn around soon and catch her asleep.
She’s not right but she’s close.
Vi’s laid out long on the sofa under the window, bathing in honey light and the breeze. A pewter gaze is eclipsed by a blink as she yawns, stretching, sinuous muscle moving, lean and lazy. Her shirt follows after her arm, riding up her stomach. Her body reaches its apex, can see it when it contracts and hitches, abdominals rolling under tight flesh. The fabric reveals freckles splattered across her skin. Sun kissed and taut. The four point scar above her hip flashing.
Then mercurial eyes reappear, right on her, keen as a blade.
“That’s a dirty trick.” Caitlyn mutters into the palm of her hand.
There was a time when Vi genuinely would not know what she was implying. That she would strain, bend, and clench and not know what she was doing to her. It should be remarkable, awe inspiring, that Vi has found her confidence, that she can finally acknowledge her body, her attractiveness.
The fondness is there, somewhere, underneath a layer of irritation. Because now Caitlyn wants very much to toss this case out the window, go over there, and suck a kiss onto her skin.
Vi’s gaze melts around her, drips down along her profile before rising like steam. “Huh?”
Bastard. Vi wants her to admit it. She’s goading her. While she lays there practically purring, all rugged and glowing and taut and and–
Nuisance. Absolute rogue.
Caitlyn faces away. Can’t be tempted or distracted if she doesn’t look.
Except she’s in reach, backed up to get a good look at the case on the wall. When Vi realizes she leans out to tug at a corner of her shirt.
“You’re being unhelpful.” Caitlyn slants a look at her from the corner of her eye.
Vi bites down on a remark, mouth curling smartly around it.
“On purpose.” Caitlyn intones.
“Mm, great work, detective.”
Caitlyn tries to give her a glare as she’s slowly reeled in. Vi tuts as she rests her cheek on her hip.
She scoffs, turns back to the case with a shake of her head.
But all the letters are starting to swim together.
The shadows on the wall have gotten a lot longer.
And they did agree she was going to try to work less.
Caitlyn takes off her specs, kneading at the bridge of her nose, and gives up.
Quietly she asks Vi to move, tugging at the front of her shirt. Vi releases her, follows her drag, rising up, accommodating. Caitlyn kisses her cheek in quick thanks and slips in to sit behind her. A groan escaping when her muscles ease and uncoil in response. Vi sets her head down on her lap, turning to briefly nose at her side, right above the bone, before rolling to look up at her.
The flare has faded, settled, and tempered into something amber. No more blaze. They slow, settle. Quiet and comforting. The room is orange and glow. It makes the world feel like a whisper. Like they’re all there is. Vi’s weight bleeding into hers, solid and bone deep satisfying.
Caitlyn reaches down to wind her fingers into thick red hair, combing it off of the scar on her brown, away from her face. Vi hums, low and pleased, rubs her cheek against her side.
“You’re an awful lot of trouble.”
“Yeah, well. I’m yours.”