Work Text:
Mia Fey adjusted her blazer in the mirror and checked her hair once more in her car mirror before exiting the door for her first day of work at Grossberg Law Offices. She saw Mr. Grossberg waiting outside the office, a gentle smile on his face and an outstretched hand waiting to shake hers.
"Good Morning, my dear!" Mr. Grossberg warmly called out, his fat fingers soft when they enveloped Mia's and patted the back of her hand. Mia smiled back at him; Mr. Grossberg was incredibly dedicated to defending his clients, and, at least in that respect, the epitome of what she herself hoped to be one day.
"Mr. Grossberg, you didn't have to come outside to meet me," Mia apologized, walking through the revolving glass doors with her new employer. He tutted and shook his head.
"My dear, it's good for these old bones to be out and about once in awhile. On top of that, I have problems with, eh, well," he looked at her sheepishly and continued. "Would you like to meet your new coworkers, Ms. Fey?"
"Yes, sir!" Mia answered, preparing herself to memorize the names and faces of the people who would surely follow in quick succession.
Mr. Grossberg led her around the office, introducing her at each desk or cubicle that was inhabited. He also pointed out the restrooms, exits, and supply closet.
"The break room is over here, Ms. Fey," he continued, opening a door. "And it seems our last employee is here as well!"
Mia looked at the man who had been glaring at a coffee machine impatiently when the door first opened. He was strikingly handsome, and well-dressed, with a self-assured smirk spreading like a fault line across his face.
"You must be the new kitten who's come to cut her teeth on law."
Mr. Grossberg sighed, softly yet audibly. "Mr. Armando, please abandon your metaphors until she knows you well enough to make sense of them!" Turning to his newest hire, he continued, “Ms. Mia Fey, this gentleman here is Mr. Diego Armando, another defense attorney. Mr. Armando, please welcome Ms. Mia Fey, our newest member.”
A brazen hand extended outward and grasped Mia's within it, eclipsing it entirely. "Hello there, Kitten. It's a pleasure to have you with us. Assuming you make it through the hoops of flame-"
Another slow shake of his head, and Mr. Grossberg turned his paternal concern to Mia. "I'm sure you'll make a very fine defense attorney, Ms. Fey. Mr. Armando is, you will find, somewhat catlike himself. A bit cruel at times-"
“Just give me some cream, Kitten, and you'll find I'm not such a bad guy.” His smile was less sarcastic this time. The coffee machine indicated that it had finished percolating, and Mr. Armando seized his coffee mug with impressive reflexes, bringing it to his lips and drinking it without waiting for it to cool. Mia watched his Adam's apple oscillate as he drank—it was more like chugged—his coffee. Finishing, he slammed his mug down with what was surely the most force that could be used without damaging the cup. “Swing by if you'd like to learn to hunt, Kitten—
“Mr. Armando, we are defense attorneys, not prosecutors!” Mr. Grossberg bristled slightly.
~
Mia had worked at the Grossberg Law Offices for long enough to come to know everyone there. It seemed she was a little too comfortable, as Mr. Grossberg now found it suitable to complain of his hemorrhoid problems within her earshot. However, her coworkers showed her a great deal of patience, and she had learned much in her first few weeks. Mr. Armando even stopped by her office frequently, giving her another defense style to incorporate into what was becoming her own method of defending.
It was around six in the evening when she saw him peek into her cubicle. “Kitten, are you up for an evening with my favorite dark mistress? I've been meaning to introduce you two.”
Mia had grown accustomed to Mr. Armando's superfluous manner of speaking, and learned to read between his words. “Oh? She won't get jealous of sharing you?” Mia teased, going back to her reading.
But Mr. Armando still stood in her the doorway of her cubicle. “Kitten, come and get coffee with me.”
Oh, dear. Was this a come-with-me-and-let's-talk-as-friends/coworkers get a coffee, or was this an I'm-casually-asking-you-out get a coffee? Why did he have to be so confusing? Mia stopped reading and looked at him.
“Will it make any difference if I'm there? Or is it just about the coffee?” There. Best to be blunt with him.
He smiled. “I'd prefer that you'd accompany me, but if that's too much to ask—“
Mia rolled her eyes, grabbed her coat, and stood beside him. “Let's get that coffee.”
~
While she had puzzled out that her meeting his “dark mistress” meant getting coffee, she'd not realized that it meant drinking coffee at his apartment.
She felt relaxed in his place. He seemed to favor a minimalistic design scheme, with dark colors keeping it warm and, somehow, friendly. He'd insisted that she make herself comfortable while he prepared the coffee.
Mia played with her hair while waiting, curiously looking around his apartment while trying not to pry. He was allowing her a window into his private life, not a search warrant.
Presently, he finished preparing the coffee and handed her a mug. While he went for his immediately, she held the mug in both hands and blew at it, patiently waiting for it to cool.
“Is she not your type, Kitten?” he asked, between sips. Mia shook her head quickly.
“Just waiting for it to cool down. Not all of us have throats impervious to scalding,” she smiled a little as he smirked at her comment.
“Good. I don't want you to get hurt by trying something hot before you're ready for it. That's one of my rules.” No smirk or even a smile; his face was very serious.
Mia found that she was comfortable with this flirting they were engaging in. He wasn't being vulgar, and, as she'd learned a week or so earlier, he knew when he'd gotten near her boundaries, and respectfully fell back on the rare occasion he ventured too close.
“Mine, too,” Mia replied, and laughed as Mr. Armando swallowed his coffee the wrong way in surprise. She patted his back as he caught his breath and composure.
Recovered, he offered, “Good to know. I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy.” His face returned to its usual confident position, and their conversation drifted to other subjects.
Coffee finished hours ago, Mia felt it was time to leave. She signaled this to Mr. Armando, and he walked her slowly to the door, pulling her back and stopping her several times, not by force, but with bits of conversation. Finally, her back was to the door. Despite the coffee, she could feel her exhaustion taking its delayed toll on her body. She couldn't wait to curl up in bed and fall asleep.
“Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Armando. I had a wonderful time.” It was dull, it was hackneyed, but she was tired, and by gosh, it was true!
“I'm glad you two appreciate each other. Goodnight, Mia.” His face was very serious and sensual at this point; it was also the first time he had called her by her given name. Mia felt her heart pound in her breast. When was he going to lean in and kiss her?
Thirty seconds was a terribly long time to anticipate a kiss.
That, apparently, wasn't coming.
“What is it?” Mr. Armando asked, and Mia saw glee in his eyes. She huffed, somewhere between upset at being teased and amused at how darn childish he could be.
“Kiss me,” Mia breathed, lowering her voice to a very sultry tone and lowering her lashes just a tad.
He leaned over and their lips met. It was chaste but romantic, and it was, somehow, extremely warming. He pulled away slowly.
“Call me Diego.”
Mia nodded and smiled. “Goodnight, Diego.” She opened the door and stepped into the hall, turning to glimpse him one last time that night.
“Goodnight, Kitten.”
Brat!
~
He was absolutely beautiful when he slept, Mia thought. She turned to rest on her side so she could see him better, her soft nightgown brushing against her thighs.
One arm was thrown over his head, revealing dark armpit hair against his beautifully-pigmented skin. There was no expression on his face, both sexy and frustrating as they could be (sometimes simultaneously). He was drooling a little on his pillow, too.
Mia felt so much love for him surge up inside her that she touched him to make sure he was really there. Her hand on his warm, muscular side confirmed the fact for her. Satisfied with what she'd seen for tonight, she pulled herself close to his body.
~
She couldn't get anything but the thought of her blameless client dying of poison ingestion out of her mind. Diego had marched over to where that little harpy was standing, pretending to weep. He spoke with the bailiff and the judge while Mia tried to gather herself.
She noticed that the cute, spoiled prodigy was aghast, too. The big detective was doing his best to cheer him with a hand on his shoulder, and with words she couldn't make out.
~
Diego fought to be able to question Dahlia Hawthrone. He confided to Mia that he was afraid someone who hadn't witnessed her breakdown in court would fall for her innocence act.
“Be careful,” Mia had said, as she always did, parting ways.
Diego held up his coffee mug. “We're unstoppable together, Kitten. Don't worry about us.”
~
Poisoned. He'd been poisoned.
She rushed to the room she knew the evil monster was being questioned in. Police were holding her in place, and others were tending to Diego. . .
Diego was on the floor, blood and vomit coating the carpet beneath him. A paramedic was turning his face up and checking for a pulse.
His eyes were lifeless. She'd seen him sleep, and this wasn't it.
She pushed her way through toward him. A few people tried to stop her from advancing, but she broke free and cradled Diego in her arms.
She sat in the back of the ambulance as he was taken to the hospital.
She waited in the waiting room while they did things to him, subtracting and adding to him, without her knowing what was happening with his body.
She prepared herself for the inevitable.
~
He didn't die; not right away.
A doctor explained to a sleepless, brokenhearted Mia that, though he was alive, he was in a deep coma. If he ever woke up, he would doubtless have a long period of recovery to work through, and no guarantee that he would ever be as he had been before. In fact, that was almost certainly impossible, given the damage the poison had wrought.
Mia nodded and walked the well-tread path to Diego's room. She sat on the bed, by his side. She tried to ignore the tubes and machines all around him, penetrating him, keeping him alive. She tried to believe he was still in there and that he could—no, would—wake up again.
She tried to smile, like he'd told her. She talked to him, even though he was unconscious. Even though he might be deaf, should he ever wake.
She pressed kisses against him, wherever tubes weren't in the way. She made sure to smile; she wanted him to feel she was smiling, just like he wanted, when it was the hardest thing she'd ever experienced in her life. To have almost no hope that he'd ever wake up . . . Somehow, the tiny bit of hope she did have made it even more painful. She felt trapped in a purgatory, where she could neither mourn his loss nor celebrate his living; if he'd died, at least she could grieve.
But watching his chest rise and feeling his heart beat, she felt cruel. He was alive, and she was so glad to have him be in this world, with her. Even if he was like this. Even if it was just for a little while longer.
And she'd fight to get the creature that did this to him imprisoned. How could she allow that woman to go free when she had caused Mr. Fawles' suicide, and Diego's. . .
She wouldn't allow her to hurt anyone else. Meanwhile, she had other clients to defend. She smiled brightly, kissed Diego's stubbly, sunken cheek, and went to keep her appointment with her client, Mr. Wright.