Work Text:
"The snow is beautiful," Lauren murmured.
Kieran gazed up at the sky, mirroring her. To see the snow, to see what she was seeing. The sky was a light blue, so dull it could almost be mistaken for grey. Snow slowly fell to the ground with grace.
"It is." He sighed, a cloud forming from his breath. Wisps of cold air passed through his fingertips. He should have worn gloves. "Is winter your favourite season?" Kieran asked.
Lauren's footsteps faltered ever so slightly as if the question had never crossed her mind. "No," she answered. "No, I like fall. I like to watch the leaves." She looked at a nearby tree as if she could already see the warm colours of the leaves fluttering down to litter the streets. They walked in step next to each other.
"Why did you want to hang out after work?" she asked. "Did you find new information?"
He had asked her when they were in the archives of the precinct. Why did he want to? He had nothing new to tell her.
I want to know you. Kieran thought. He knew that she was a Sinclair, the niece of the chief of police, an extraordinary detective—but what does she like? What does she do at home when she's alone? Why did that matter to him? They had met under the moonlight, covered in blood and fueled by anger. Their relationship was purely business, but eventually, they had begun to trust one another, to rely on each other, to care for each other. When had he let that happen? The Phantom Scythe was no place for such.
Lauren—she was stubborn, hotheaded, maybe even impulsive at times, but she was also lovely, and selfless, and showed courage like no other. He provided a half-truth answer.
"I just felt that we could both use a break after everything that's been happening."
She hummed, seemingly pleased. It was silent for a moment more until Lauren said, "How long have you been drawing for?"
"What?"
"Your art. It's really quite amazing. You must've been doing it for a long time, no?"
"Of course not. I'm just naturally talented." He chuckled. "I was a street painter when I was younger. I've always loved art."
"I see."
"And what about you?" He turned to face her. "What do you like to do? Either than handcuffing people and chasing down the leader, of course."
"Well, I like sewing." Somehow, Kieran found himself unsurprised by that. "Baking is also fun," She continued. "Although I do tend to require my maid's help more often than not." A smile ghosted over Kieran's lips.
"Have you ever tried drawing before, detective?"
"Painting." She said firmly. "But it was only for a month. My uncle still kept the portrait I made for him." Lauren visibly shuttered, and he suspected it wasn't because of the cold.
"You'll have to show me sometime."
"I'd rather not. Unless your sleep paralysis demon wishes to be replaced." They both laughed, facing each other. And suddenly it didn't feel like winter anymore.
Kieran was staring into Lauren's golden eyes, and he noticed the way her auburn hair rested atop her shoulders. Yellow and red like the leaves. It felt like fall. The pink tint of her skin said otherwise.
"Close your mouth before a fly makes it their new home, subordinate."
"There wouldn't be any flies out in this weather, darling."
Lauren rolled her eyes with a smile, then started down the snow covered path without him. He stood there, his feet numb in his shoes, but all he could think about was the snow that found its way onto Lauren's hair.
"The painting on a white canvas," he murmured. Beautiful.
He had found inspiration for his next drawing.