Chapter Text
Okay, heels were a bad idea.
I fumble with my keys one-handed, holding onto my coat with the other, as I try to ignore the pain in my soles; I wasn’t even wearing my tallest pair and I’m still going numb.
My brows furrowed as I twirl the metal between my fingers, trying to find my apartment ones - feeling agitated by the small inconvenience. I was so preoccupied that I completely forgot about the guest would waited behind me.
“Havin’ some trouble there, Genius?”
I will completely deny the fact that I jumped at the sound of him. Khaleed's voice had a bit of rasp in it, a side effect of talking throughout the entire night no doubt.
Shifting my head over my shoulder showed the tired private eye with his hair still down but looking a little more unkempt than when we first left and his eyes were hooded; the blue-green color dark under my aged porch light. Khaleed seemed to glow under the warm toned hue, a halo spinning around his head when he tilts it at me.
“Want me ta’ handle it?” He pulls one of his hands out his pocket, offering his glove clad-palm to me. I stare at it, my initial reaction was to give him a nasty look and keep the keys to myself - they were my literal home ones so, I doubt it would’ve been unjustified - but the drink I had at the Devil’s Tongue still buzzed under my skin, making me a little more compromising.
And I don’t feel like being stubborn with my body aching.
I hook my finger on the key ring and hand it to him, shuffling so he was in front of the door, the brunet gives me a lazy thanks and grabs it. His shoes drag against my welcoming mat as the metal jingles, I give a hearty sigh when I finally hear a click.
The woodwork falls agape and Khaleed steps back, keeping the door open, “after you.”
I hum and walk in - finally taking off my shoes and hanging up my coat on the rack - feeling relieved, exhausted and hungry. My eyes are drawn towards a clock ticking, 1:20 - and by the darkness outside, I feel it’s fair to assume - AM.
“Nice joint, how much you payin’ for somethin’ like this?” My guest’s question reverberates off the walls, I can hear him hanging my keys on the rack as he murmurs a barely audible remark about how I must get paid thousands for a place like this. I want to think about how he’s not too far off but can’t help the odd - more so, foreign - feeling of another person’s voice in my home.
I preferred being alone; even when Conley and I were kids, I always kept to myself. No matter how much I cringed away from my brother, his incessant need to remain attached to my hip was his priority. A sharp pang drives into my chest and I stiffen at the feeling. I heave another sigh; at least now I know that alcohol won’t be a welcoming reprieve for all this.
I round up on my open kitchen, nearly a beeline away from the door, flick on the lights and trace my hands against the marble counter, choosing to answer the brunet’s question instead of reveling over what I’ve already spent weeks panicking over.
“Too damn much—“ my voice trills in baritone, I do a slow one-eighty to face him, “—this is New York we’re talkin’ about.”
The private eye chuckles tiredly, muttering a ‘ain’t that the truth’ while kicking off his own shoes and placing them beside my own — I chose to ignore my eyes lingering on them side by side, chalking it up to my sluggish mind not keeping up properly. Khaleed rolls his shoulders back; cursing under his breath with pinned brows and the shirt I lent straining against his open chest.
I press my palms flat against the island I’m stationed at, my shoulders reaching my ears as I’m begrudgingly drawn towards the mark on the left side of the private eye’s chest. When I’d first seen it, I thought it was a tattoo; but the ink on those were normally black, not the reddish brown it currently was. That’s when henna popped into my mind, the stain seemed similar enough and it made some sen—
“So, whadaya’ got in your fridge?” I straighten instinctively and refocus on his face, seeing him already watching me, “I’m literally starving right now.”
I raise a brow at him, leaning my weight back against the counter when I sensed the calm atmosphere, “didn’t you eat the stuff Lori set out?”
“And risk gettin’ poisoned by her?” Khaleed scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “not a chance.”
I narrow my eyes at him - his little dispute with the socialite begged more questions than not, and the last thing I need to be dealing with right now is the only investigator who’s actually competent enough to help me getting into a hissy fit with possibly the only reliable witness.
Well, maybe not reliable, but most informative.
“What’s with you and Keys anyway?” I lull my head to the side, watching the brunet stalk towards me, “anything I should be worried about for our future endeavors?”
Khaleed lets his head tilt, staring into my eyes like he was looking for something. I could tell he was getting antsy, the way his eyes fitted across my face in assessment was a tale-tell sign of nerves; from what I was told, at least.
“Nothin’ that concerns you, Genius.” He drags his eyes away and walks into my kitchen, dismissing me with a subtle shrug. If he thinks that he can stroll into my kitchen after sassing me and get away with it, he’s got another thing coming.
I twirl around, staring at him as I went till I was pressed against the counter again, this time facing my kitchen’s interior, “I think it does concern me, Khaleed - considering my brother’s wellbeing is on the line.“
His eyes snap to mine as my tone dips, head falling and leaning on one of my shoulders; I saw his throat bob as he swallows down uncomfort, he plays it off by rounding the opposite side of the island, “I’d rather not wanna have this situation get any more messy than it already is, y’know?”
“I get where ya’ coming from, really I do, but I assure you that what me and Lori got goin’ on won’t interfere with our little saving operation.” The brunet drawls unfazed, adding emphasis on the words I’m sure he wants me to focus on. My jaw sets as I glower at him, intuition clawing from the pit of my stomach and screaming how he’s lying.
“We’re honestly grown as fuck, investigator.” I’m too tired to keep my tone controlled, his title having a little bite to it as I continue on, acknowledging the way he faces away from me and tugs my fridge door open, bending down a bit to check through the shelves.
I tilt my head, running my tongue over my canines to prod my inner cheek at his blatant sanctimonious sass. I can see that he’s not gonna make this easy for me.
“I’m pretty sure we can discuss this like adults do.” I gently nod my head at him even though he can’t see me, urging him to feel the safe space I’m trying to create. He gives me a skeptical hum, picking something up and standing up right; eyeing the details on the defrosting steak I vaguely recall putting in there before I left earlier today.
My eyes train on how the brunet places the meat down on the counter and goes back to his search, not even sparring me a glance as he picks at my supply. I do like how he thinks I don’t notice how he’s gotten more fidgety; constant shuffling, tapping the metal door his off hand stayed glued to and looking at items he’s already seen like they were new.
“Did you used to work for him? Get cut off on some bad blood?” I watch intently to how he reacts, waiting to see him slip up or tense at my prying. Khaleed remains solemn, clicking his tongue to make a small tune as he picks up and eyes my vegetables - the small selection of greens now rested on the counter where the meat and I stayed.
“Were you also a bartender? Worked the floor?” I quirk my brow at him, a million occupations running around my mind as I picture the private eye in an auspicious club’s attire; he’d have to look the part if wanted to work it, no? I tilt my head trying to recall what Conley’s work clothes looked like and if I could see Khaleed wearing it.
The brunet doesn’t look terrible in a pair of dress pants and a tailored top but that doesn’t equate to his compliance in wearing something he didn’t pick out. With the brief view I got from Lori’s current employees, I’d reckon he’d hate it.
A lot of the dress code was flowy and lightweight, I noticed Khaleed tended to prefer his clothes form fitting and a bit heavy with his accessories - plus I heavily doubt Lori would allow him to keep his shirt unbuttoned like he does. I trail my eyes down the brunet’s physique as he shuts my fridge door with his hip, holding onions in one hand and his hip in the other.
The private eye faces me with an unimpressed look, unintentionally allowing me to ogle him further. He’d probably keep his hair up as he normally did; the socialite would most likely make him switch out his regular hair tie for something smaller, maybe even switch the style a bit. Something to highlight his face and offer some eye candy which I won’t lie, he’s already got down packed.
If we’re going down the floor work route, I noticed he had a broader shoulder and chest range which complemented his narrower waist and hips so, Lori might put him in something that accentuated his figure; a nice belt cinching his waist and adding more definition in his hips and thighs.
Kinda like how he’s currently dressed, just a bit more - I find myself eyeing his chest again - buttoned up.
“Havin’ fun pickin’ me apart, Genius?” Khaleed’s tone is pitched down with fatigue. My eyes snap back up to his face and I note how, despite his playful brow raise and growing grin, my inquisitive nature is teetering on the edge of invasive.
“Sure am.” I mellow out, watching the private eye place the onions down and lean his hands against the countertop. His hair falling over his face a little as he mimics my position; forearms flexing when he applies pressure to the marbled surface, the light overhead drenched him in mood lighting and I had that much more of an incense to piss him off.
Not that I was doing this to intentionally upset him, it’s just - I was careless once with Conley and now he’s missing.
I’m not making that mistake again.
Khaleed leans in closely, those blue-green eyes of his boring into my own in exhaustion as he speaks to me in a lower timbre; basically pleading, “you should go take a shower, I’ll cook us some dinner.”
I hold him there with my stare, practically glaring into the dark of his pupils. For a second I feel like I can see my reflection in them and suddenly the air doesn’t feel the same.
I’m suddenly conscious of how numb my legs are and the way I breathe; the gentle thumping of my heart rushing in my ears as my body hums in warmth and the faint remnants of liquor on my tongue. My throat feels dry the more I look at him; how he reminded me of kicked puppy.
Khaleed’s body was tense and I could see how his lazy smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was distracting - I don’t remember when looking at him started to become difficult but it did. I couldn’t focus with his eyes trained on me, watching them dance between my own, trying to speak without having to part those pursed…pretty—
My tongue darts out to wet my dry lips, instinctively pulling the soft flesh into my mouth just to have my teeth dig into it, releasing it slowly; trying to claw my way back to reality and away from those liquor-induced daydreams.
I had to admit, looking at the brunet for this long felt strange; it was…interesting - yeah, sure, I’ll go with that - how the color of his irises lulled me into a trance, their silent beg for compliance had me thinking of how nice a hot shower would do me. I leaned back and swear something delighted danced in the vibrant color.
“If you burn down my kitchen, I’ll have you crawling to Lori for help.”
Khaleed’s scoff lends way to a spare chuckle fit, he rolls his eyes and mutters a little ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’ in that raspy tone. I watch him push off the counter and turn towards my cabinets; mostly likely looking for my seasonings and cooking equipment.
I pull myself away and to the hallway a short distance away, tracing the wall while I watched him sigh exasperatedly; the hair in front of his face floating up at the puff of air. My hand drags off the wall as I face away and head to my room.
What are you hiding, Khaleed?