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It was nights like these that Parker couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off of Arthur.
The moonlight catches each angle of his face in a way that softened the normally tense expression, a smirk playing at his lips as he commented idly on how this wasn’t how their night was supposed to go.
Parker was inclined to agree, they weren’t supposed to end up in the back end of a park on a failed stakeout. The two of them had barely the foresight to throw on their coats before rushing out of their office in response to the realization that their mark was on the move. Rookie mistake really, but they’d laughed the entire way over. They’d decided to claim a bench that would have been a good vantage point if they hadn’t missed their target by a country mile.
Obviously they should’ve called it in sooner, but between the two of them they were both stubborn bastards. Which is how they ended up out here stranded with not much else to do with their evening. Sure, they discovered another back corner in their wonderful city to hide away in, even if they had definitely lost out on this client. It was a shame, they would’ve paid well.
“You worry too much Parker,” Arthur chides, giving him a wry look. “We can lose a case or two as long as we keep up with the rest of them.” He seems to sense his staring, keeping his gaze trained even as Parker still can’t bring himself to look away. Sometimes he gets the sense that if he does, Arthur will disappear as he’s done so many times before.
Flames dance as he flicks the lighter, again and again in a comforting rhythm. Smoke curls from the end of a cigarette that Parker had pinched between his fingers, obscuring his view. He takes a drag, shifting forward through the smoke and crowding into Arthur’s space.
The lighter flicks shut with a metallic click, now tucked away in Arthur’s pocket. He tips his head back, that wry grin stretching wide as Parker straddles his leg, There’s no tension in his body as he drapes his arms over the back of the bench, inviting Parker closer.
This was a public park. Well known necking grounds even, Parker could count the number of times he’d run off foolish teens after being hired by concerned parents. He knew the risks, but he still leans over Arthur. One hand to his well pressed collar, cupping the side of his neck. The other carefully keeps the cigarette out of the way.
“I think I’m allowed to worry with how you rushed after them without a second thought about the guns they had pointed at us.” Parker says, raising a brow at Arthur’s shakes his head. The motion makes his jaw bump against the back of Parker’s hand, and he considers for a moment moving it to cradle his face. He doesn’t move.
“I had them,” Arthur huffs, “You need to learn to take a few risks.”
It was a challenge, Parker knew the mischievous glint in Arthur’s eye as well as he knew what his response would be.
“I took you on as a partner didn’t I?”
Arthur scoffs, as he did any time Parker ribbed his own decision to hire a know-nothing near-deadbeat alcoholic who had far too many ghosts haunting him.
Of course, with a glance at the man in front of him, he almost couldn’t reconcile the image of the man he’d met nearly two years ago at the bar. The unhealthy pallor of a drunk had given way to sculpted cheekbones and a well groomed face. Alcohol had been traded for the occasional smoke, which he takes from Parker’s fingertips.
Parker was as familiar with risks as he was with the sudden rush of adrenaline he got when Arthur looked at him just right. A glance through his lashes, warm brown eyes crinkling just slightly at the edges as he blows a cloud of smoke at him.
“You like risks.”
You like me.
“I do.”
I do.
It was a song and dance they had performed so many times before. Parker’s gaze skating over Arthur’s open expression, taking his cigarette back from those lithe fingers. There isn’t even a hint of protest, only twitch as if he wanted to move forward.
They had played this game for so long Parker wasn’t even sure if there was a point after this. Arthur’s skin was warm under his palm, knee pressing into his thigh. He could lean down, Arthur could press up, they could close the gap.
Neither of them move.
Something crunches in the distance and the spell breaks. Parker takes a controlled step back, letting his hand fall away as Arthur’s head ducks down. Giggling reaches their ears next and Parker sighs.
“Are we staying out here all night?” He asks idly, flicking ash to the ground and watching its slow descent instead of whatever complicated expression was now gracing Arthur’s expression.
“Not much point,” Arthur sighs, unfolding from his stretched out posture, bumping against Parker as he stands. As most things with Arthur were, it was intentional. Parker wishes he didn’t have the restraint to not give him a nudge in return.
The lighter reappears, flicking open, on, closed. Over and over, a repetition of rhythm that they fall in step to. Parker passes Arthur his cigarette case, but isn’t surprised when he shakes his head.
“You know I don’t smoke Parker.”
It’s almost become a running joke between them, one that always makes Parker smile.
“You’ll share mine.”
“That's different,” Arthur protests lightly. “I can’t smoke a full cigarette, god knows how you manage to go through so many of them in a day.”
“It’s a great conversation starter,” Parker shrugs, “Got you to light my cigarettes, right?”
He doubts Arthur remembers much of the third or so night they’d met. He hadn’t been blackout drunk, but he had been cut off and in leaving the bar Parker had asked for a light in a last ditch attempt to spark a conversation. Both had worked, securing a lit cigarette and Arthur’s attention for more than a few moments.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t invest in your own lighter,” Arthur rolls his eyes. They’d had this conversation before. “You take every spare matchbook you can find.”
“Why do that when you can take care of it for me?” Parker replies cheekily. If the lighting were better, he could’ve sworn Arthur had blushed, shaking his head quickly.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“‘Been told, many times, at least a few by you.”
It wasn’t the end to the night that either of them had expected, but Parker can predict how the rest of it will go. Arthur will let his arm bump his own as they walk towards the apartment together. They’ll trade the cigarette between them until it’s burned down to the filter and all that's left is to share their thoughts on the case.
The office will be put to use at far too late an hour, the case will be closed, and they’ll finish their night as they had every night. They’ll argue over dinner, Parker will pretend his ankle pressing against Arthur’s is incidental, Arthur will pretend he isn’t staring at Parker until they lock eyes and glance away.
It’s a practiced song and dance, and one that neither of them are intent on changing anytime soon. Parker certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Do you think they did this on purpose?” Arthur muses, watching the sun disappearing over the tops of the buildings as they enter onto the street.
“I think they’re too stupid to know any better,” Parker replies. He’s not sure if he’s talking about the case anymore.
“Either way, more opportunities for us, right?”
Parker takes in the last of the sunset gracing Arthur’s features before it ducks behind a midrise.
“‘Course, we’d be stupid not to take advantage of it.”