Work Text:
Street likes surprising Chris.
For a few seconds her eyes will crinkle in the corners and, despite her protests, her smile will widen in delight.
Street remembers every detail of her expression when she opened the door envelope containing skydiving tickets.
She complains every year, but he knows she loves receiving gifts on her birthday.
It used to be that Street had to keep the lines between friendship and something more sharp, clear; gifts only on birthdays, nothing too personal, presents more jokey than sincere.
Now, Street wake up with an arm draped across her stomach more often than not. Chris tells him she loves him, touches, kisses him, and he’s able to return it. A hand can be placed on her waist when he wants to move around her in HQ, or his arm can move to drape across her shoulders.
The lines between friendship and more have had a container of gasoline thrown over them and then set alight.
-
It begins with a note.
Chris opens her locker, and something flutters to the ground at her feet. She crouches, fishes it off the floor, and frowns.
It’s a slip of paper, torn from what looks like a spiral notebook, folded in half. Her name is scrawled across the front.
She smiles as she recognises the familiar handwriting, then opens it.
The words ‘I love you’ spread across the page in Street’s scribble, complete with a pair stick figures which, on closer inspection, appear to be Street and herself.
She laughs at the drawing, refolds and tucks the paper into the front pocket of her backpack.
-
They’re walking through HQ when she notices him slip something into her pocket.
Street continues walking towards the armoury but she halts, confused.
Chris’ hand reaches into her pocket, confusion deepening when she pulls out a black cord bracelet.
She turns it over in her palm, trying to figure out why Street snuck it into her pocket with no explanation. Quickening her pace, she follows him into the armoury.
“What’s this?” Chris asks, holding it out for him to see. His eyebrows raise.
“A bracelet?”
“Right,” she rolls her eyes, “but what is it for?”
Street looks away from her face and rolls the sleeve of his jacket up so she can see his own wrist. On his wrist, next to the watch they both wear, is an identical bracelet.
Oh.
“You don’t have to wear it,” he says, eyes still not looking at hers.
“No I - I want to wear it.”
His eyes swing round to meet hers. The tips of his ears are tinged pink.
Chris slips the bracelet onto her own wrist, tightens it and then offers it up for Street’s approval.
He bumps his fist to hers. She can’t help the snort that escapes her throat.
“We’ve literally seen each other naked and that’s what you come up with?”
“Fist bumps are timeless Chris, honestly.”
-
The next gift isn’t technically handed to her, but Chris thinks it counts all the same.
They’re queuing for coffee at the diner they both like when she spots something in his wallet when he pulls out a 5 dollar bill to pay.
Chris’ so preoccupied by what she thinks she saw that she doesn’t even protest when he pays for her coffee.
When they slide into a booth opposite each other Chris holds out her hand.
“Give me your wallet.”
The corner of Street’s lips tilt up.
“Chris we have the same salary, you and I both know there’s very little to rob in there.”
“Come on,” she pleads, leaning across the table so she can put her face close his. His eyes dart down to her lips.
Chris knows that she’s got him.
He removes the wallet from the pocket of his leather jacket, and slides it across the table towards her.
Within, there’s a Polaroid picture, apparently taken when she was asleep, tucked in beside his drivers license. She glances up at him; he shrugs, unashamed.
“You looked cute.”
Her nose wrinkles at that description even as her stomach swoops.
“I didn’t know you had a Polaroid camera.”
“I bought it recently. It’s pink.”
“Pink?” Her eyebrows raise.
“I like pink.”
She smiles as she presses a kiss to his lips.
-
Street sits on a stool at the table, watching, as she roots around in the fridge at HQ.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something vaguely edible.”
Chris continues her search for a few minutes more before deigning it futile.
She moves to take the stool next to his but he stands, halting her.
This time she watches as Street makes his way toward the corner of the kitchen. He reaches into a cupboard and appears to root around for a second until he pulls out a box of protein bars. The box is torn open and a bar thrown for her to catch. She frowns.
“Hondo said we were out.”
He shrugs as he places the rest of the bars back in the cupboard.
“Secret stash, they’re hidden behind the panel at the back of the cupboard.” She gasps.
“You’ve been holding out on me!”
“Survival of the fittest. I have no regrets.”
“I’m your girlfriend.”
“Hence the reason I’m giving you one now. Merry Christmas.”
“It’s March.”
-
Chris’ eyes flutter open as she feels something cold pressed into the centre of her hand. Instinctively, her fingers tighten around it.
“Chris,” he whispers, “wake up.”
“It’s not even light outside,” Chris grumbles.
“Right,” Street says, voice shaking, “no, you’re right.”
Chris notices through half-open eyes that he’s twisting his fingers nervously. Her heart rate picks up as she moves to see what’s in her hand.
His hand closes around her fist, preventing her from opening it.
Even in the dim light coming from the bathroom she can see his throat bob as he swallows.
“Street what the hell is going on?”
“Chris,” he begins, “I know it’s like 4 am, but if I don’t give it to you now I’m going to chicken out.” Finally, he releases her hand, allowing her to see what’s inside.
“It’s a key.”
“To my house.”
She squints at him.
“So you can come over whenever you want, even when I’m not home. I like knowing that you’re comfortable in my space.”
Chris’ breath catches.
She leans over the side of the bed and grabs her leather jacket from the spot where it had been discarded earlier that night. Her keychain is pulled from her pocket and, after a moment of fiddling, she’s pulling the spare key off.
“Trade?”
Street laughs, relieved.
“I love you Chris, so much.”
“Love you too. However, if you wake me up at 4 am to propose I am saying no.”
Street stiffens in surprise.
“Duly noted,” he chokes out.
Chris thinks the expression on his face might be her favourite gift yet.