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Stefan swallows anxiously and tries to focus on the sound of raindrops on his windshield. A hearty bout of laughter pours out of the house and in through his car windows, which are now covered in condensation and water that warps his vision. It’s been at least an hour since he arrived, and he still cannot work up the courage to go inside.
Another twenty minutes go by in the soft pittering of rain. Stefan starts to feel more relaxed as he runs through scenarios in his head. It’s hard to figure out what to say when you haven’t met most of the people, though. He is interrupted by a knock on the window. All of his work is undone as he frantically rolls the window down to reveal the feet of a small child against Cole Phelps’s torso. Cole leans down like he would in a routine traffic stop. “Hey,” he says in a gruff tone. “Do you know why I stopped you?”
“Bein’ stupid, I’m sure,” Stefan flashes a debonair smile.
The little girl on Cole’s hip squeals with laughter and buries her face in his shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. What’re you doing out here? Come inside, Stefan,” he says lightly, squeezing Stefan’s shoulder. There’s something strange about it, but Stefan can’t figure out what.
“I was trying to convince myself to go out into the rain,” he lies through a smile and reaches out to the kid. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Susanne,” she beams, “I like to go by Susie,”
“My daughter insisted on coming outside to see the weather,” Cole laughs. He presses a kiss to her cheek and then pats the top of Stefan’s car in emphasis. “You’ve been outside for a while. Come inside before you kill your engine,”
“Sure,” Stefan nods and grabs his coat. As he climbs from his car, he focuses on the sound of rain on the pavement instead of whatever Cole is saying. The words only make his anxiety worse.
“It was Stefan, Marie,” Cole calls when he gets inside. Marie exclaims excitedly and rushes to greet him. A big smile stretches her face, creating crow’s feet beside her eyes and turning the apples of her cheeks a warm pink. Stefan grits his teeth in a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too forced. Susie hits the ground running and takes off for her sister.
“Welcome, welcome detective,” Marie takes Stefan’s hands and gives a friendly kiss to his cheek.
“Please, just call me Stefan,” he replies. She smiles and nods her head once with understanding. Stefan tries to get his hand from her grasp without snatching or pulling. Once she turns on her heel and releases him, he shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to breathe. He feels like he might be suffocating. The air feels thicker inside.
“Come in,” Cole chuckles at what can only be Stefan’s sudden shyness. Music hums quietly beneath the voices of various guests. Most people are guests of Marie, but Stefan and a handful of other detectives are there, too. Not even two seconds pass in silence before he hears Earle. He has always wondered how Cole feels about Roy, especially seeing he transferred back to homicide after a few months.
“There’s food over here and drinks in there,” Cole puts a hand on Stefan’s shoulder and leads him into the dining room, then gestures into the kitchen when mentioning the drinks. “Help yourself,” Stefan grabs a single cookie and a napkin for crumbs, then walks where Cole ushers him.
He spends several minutes chatting and making sure everyone knows he is there. It’s not too challenging, as Roy announces Stefan’s presence pretty loudly in his mocking. Cole stops by during this one conversation to check on Stefan. Soon after Cole arrives, he stops paying attention and instead looks over at his daughters. Stefan takes the opportunity to duck out and stand on the back patio with a cigarette. The rain has come to a stop. Stomach churning, he simply holds the lit cigarette but does not touch it to his lips. The burnt end smolders and the wind turns the embers red. As he watches, he braces himself on his forearms against the railing and kicks one foot out behind him.
“Stefan? What are you doing out here?”
“You keep finding me,” Stefan rolls his eyes. “I was testing you,”
“Testing me?” Cole walks up and leans against the railing of the porch.
“Not really. If I was, though, you would’ve passed. That’s…” he counts silently to himself, “three times you’ve found me today,”
“What’re you doing out here?” Cole asks a second time, crossing his arms.
“It’s loud in there,” Stefan looks over his shoulder at the door, “and Roy was being a dick. I don’t know why you invited him,”
“Courtesy,” Cole grumbles.
“Yeah, sure,” Stefan shrugs. “Anyway, I figured you’d find me out here,”
“Did you want me to find you?”
“I mean, yeah,” Stefan drops the cigarette onto the patio and stomps it out, then kicks it into the grass.
“Any reason?”
“I dunno,” Stefan furrows his brow and watches the way his breath creates clouds before him. His heart is racing with Cole’s closeness— he’s no more than an inch or so away, his arm just about pressed to Stefan’s side. Stefan does know the reason he wanted to be found. Phelps is nice. Also, hot. The thought is a small thing he chooses not to focus on all that much. Still, it follows him around and catches his attention every so often. Quickly, he brushes it aside and opens his mouth to speak before being interrupted.
“You look cold. Maybe you should come inside,” Cole suggests, looking at Stefan’s face. There’s a clear hesitation before Stefan shrugs but he ultimately does not move. He’d rather be outside in the cold than inside with the noise and heat and movement. Weirdly enough, Stefan loves parties. He’s not sure why this one is different. Cole puts his hand on Stefan’s arm and his touch turns every muscle in Bekowsky’s body to stone. “You’re shivering, Bekowsky. Come inside,”
“I’m fine, Phelps,” Stefan closes his eyes and tries to steady himself. He is, truthfully, quite cold, but also wicked nervous. The shaking Cole is seeing is exactly that; he is trembling with nerves.
“Bekowsky,” Cole’s hand slips down to rest atop Stefan’s.
“Ah,” Stefan immediately yanks his hand away and looks over his shoulder at the door again. He regrets the movement when no one spares even a passing glance toward them. “Cole,” he sighs, resigning.
“Sorry,” Cole stares into the distance instead of looking over at Stefan’s sudden reaction. The feeling of warmth on Stefan’s hand remains. Cole leaves his hand where Stefan’s was before. “Nobody will be in the music room,” he suggests, “if you want somewhere quiet,”
Stefan relents so Cole will quit his pestering. He puts his hands in his pockets to try and hide the redness of his fingertips. They go inside and Stefan smiles at some guests and kind of follows Cole to the music room. It’s a small room with a window and piano, a rug and a bookcase against the wall. There’s a small sofa against a different wall, which Cole falls onto with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes. There’s also a record player beside it.
“This is nice,” Stefan sits at the piano and lifts the key lid.
“It hasn’t been tuned since we moved,” Cole sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “Do you play?”
“Sometimes,” Stefan shrugs. He runs through a flourish he tends to play when he sits at any piano. The sound wobbles unsteadily from poor, uneven intonation. Amused by the tuning, he chuckles and plays a handful of chords. He doesn’t fully realize the way his foot instinctively holds the damper pedal to soften the sound. Cole looks at Stefan and then raises his eyebrows expectantly.
“What d’you want to hear?” Stefan plays another light flourish and cringes at one specific note’s tuning.
“Something festive, maybe?”
“Sure,” Stefan begins The Christmas Song and hums the tune beneath the trickling notes of the piano. Cole sighs again, but this time it sounds something like a swoon. Once he gets to a part of the song he can’t remember the tune of, he stops playing and turns over his shoulder. “Why do you have a piano, anyway?”
“The girls are in lessons. Also, I used to play,”
“Oh? Go on, then,” Stefan smiles and slides to the edge of the bench so Cole can sit beside him. “Play somethin’, Mozart,”
“I’m certainly no Mozart,” Cole comes over and sits at the piano, brushing his fingers over the keys before beginning a piece Stefan doesn’t recognize. His shoulder presses into Stefan’s, the warmth of his skin barely evident through the dress shirt he’s wearing. He can smell Cole’s cologne, too, a sharp scent that makes him dizzy. They’re so close to one another. Stefan looks at Cole, whose face has flushed slightly pink, and fights himself to stay put. There’s too much that could go wrong here. He chews his lip, wishing for the feeling of stubble.
“Papa,” the older of the two girls pokes her head in. Cole abruptly stops playing and turns around to face his daughter.
“What can I do for you?”
“When is everyone going home?”
Stefan chuckles. Cole casts an unimpressed glance over his shoulder before turning back to the girl, “I’m not sure. You can spend some time in here with us, though,”
“Who’s that?” The girl points at Stefan.
“Someone I work with,” Cole says plainly. After a few seconds, he continues, “He’s a detective, like me. We’re friends,”
“Oh, are we?” Stefan smiles broadly as Cole rolls his eyes, then leans over. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
She shies away from Stefan and takes a step toward her father. “Evelyn,” she mumbles.
“Nice to meet you, Evelyn. I’m Stefan,” he smiles. Evelyn turns her face in toward Cole’s chest and hides. Then, Cole picks her up and carries her over to the record player in the corner. After some low conversation, she takes a record from a blue slip and puts it on the player. It soon starts pouring low, Christmas jazz that Stefan plays with. Then, Cole starts to sing. Evelyn does too, but her voice simply floats beneath the baritone melody Cole is singing.
“Christ, Phelps, you didn’t tell me you could sing,”
“I can’t, really. I like to,”
Stefan watches in awe, mindlessly plinking melody lines on the piano along to the music while Cole sings. He’s stunning as he smiles and coos at his daughter. Enough so that it’s distracting. After a bit, Evelyn wriggles her way out of her father’s arms and runs out of the room, her train of thought changing instantly when Susie passes by with a cookie.
“Stefan?” Cole furrows his brow and comes back over to the bench. The music continues to hum. “You’re flushed,”
“I’m just… Uh, it’s warm in here,” Stefan pushes up his sleeves, which are already rolled to his elbows. Then he continues with the piano.
“Oh, I see,” Cole chuckles. He sounds unconvinced. In fact, he sounds somewhat amused by the dishonesty. Stefan can’t help but blush more. His face grows ridiculously warm as Cole puts a gentle hand under Stefan’s chin and then runs his thumb across his jaw.
“What’re you doing?” Stefan finds himself fighting the urge to recoil. The touch is nice. Much nicer than he’d like to admit.
“Nothing. I’m going back out to talk with everyone. Feel free to come out when you’re ready,”
Stefan can’t think of anything to say and instead just gapes. He opens and closes his mouth a few times at a complete loss. Then, Cole turns on his heel and leaves Stefan alone in the music room.
“Merry fucking Christmas, I guess,” he mutters under his breath. As an unsuccessful distraction, he turns back to the piano and plays until he decides to leave early. He doesn’t say goodbye, too caught up in his emotions to see Cole or his wife.