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Angela rubbed at her temple, muttering a curse at the report that refused to format correctly. Some genius had updated the department's system again, which meant nothing worked. Of course.
A rustle from behind made her glance up. Wesley leaned against the corner of her desk, holding a pair of takeaway coffee cups.
“Didn’t peg you as the stay-late-and-suffer-in-silence type,” he said, voice low.
Angela arched an eyebrow. “I’m a detective. Suffering in silence is half the job.”
Wesley smiled and set one of the coffees beside her elbow. “The other half being sarcasm and self-neglect?”
“Now you’re getting it,” she muttered, but took the coffee anyway.
They sat like that for a moment with her nursing caffein, him pretending he hadn’t stopped by solely to see her.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked, turning to him with narrowed eyes.
“Just came from a deposition. Thought I’d check in. Make sure your desk hadn’t swallowed you whole.” He looked at her and for a second she saw something behind his usual calm. “Didn’t expect you to still be here.”
“Yeah, well. Some of us actually work.”
He chuckled. “And some of us bring caffeine as penance.”
“Which might be the smartest legal move you’ve ever made.”
Angela leaned back in her chair, stretching. Suddenly she was so tired of reports, suspects, court prep, and dancing around the thing that had been simmering between her and Wesley for weeks.
“You ever play stupid games to keep yourself awake?” she asked suddenly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is this a trick question?”
“I mean, like… truth or dare. Or something equally juvenile.”
He blinked, clearly not expecting that turn. “Not since middle school. Why?”
She shrugged. “I’m bored. Sleep-deprived. And I have a gut feeling you’re terrible at games.”
Wesley tilted his head. “On the contrary. I just have excellent judgment about which ones are worth playing.”
Angela’s eyes lit up with challenge. “So not this one?”
“Depends,” he said, his voice shifting. “What’s on the line?”
Angela leaned forward, elbows on her desk, smirk curling her lips. “Your pride.”
Wesley matched her stare. “That’s dangerous territory.”
“Only if you’re afraid to lose.”
Angela tapped her pen against her deskl. “Alright, counselor. Truth or dare?”
Wesley smirked. “You’re actually doing this.”
“I don’t bluff,” she said, eyes glinting. “Only criminals and public defenders do that.”
He gave a theatrical sigh. “Fine. Dare.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, like she hadn’t expected him to bite that fast. “Alright. I dare you to…” She paused, eyes scanning him from collar to belt, deliberately slow. “Unbutton one button on that shirt. The top one.”
Wesley blinked, surprised, but just for a second. “Subtle,” he said dryly.
She leaned back, smug. “It’s been a long shift. Let me have my fun.”
Holding her gaze, Wesley reached up and unfastened the button with two fingers, slow and deliberate. The fabric parted, revealing the base of his throat, warm skin, smooth jawline.
Angela didn’t look away. Neither did he.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Getting there,” she said, sipping her coffee without breaking eye contact. “Your turn.”
Wesley shifted slightly, one hand resting on the edge of her desk. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” she said immediately.
“Predictable.”
“I could say the same about you.”
He smirked. “Alright then. I dare you… to tell me your worst date story. Real one. No cop-outs.”
Angela let out a breath. “You’re soft.”
“It’s a warm-up round.”
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “There was this guy, ex-Marine, big arms, great smile. Took me to a steakhouse, spent the entire time talking about how women in law enforcement have ‘too much testosterone.’” She arched a brow. “I left halfway through the entrée.”
Wesley winced. “Oof.”
“He texted me later asking if I was on my period.”
He stared. “Okay, that’s a war crime.”
Angela grinned, tipping her coffee cup toward him. “Your move, lawyer boy.”
He gave a faux-salute. “Truth or dare?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Dare. Again.”
“You’re really bad at this game.”
“I’m excellent at it. You’re just too scared to ask me anything interesting.”
Wesley leaned in, elbows on her desk now, amused smile playing at his lips. “Alright. I dare you to admit if you’ve ever thought about kissing me.”
Angela blinked. Just once.
“Cute,” she said, tone light but clipped. “But you’re wasting a perfectly good dare.”
“Am I?”
“You’re assuming I think about you that much.”
“I know you think about me that much.”
She laughed. “You’re so cocky.”
“And you’re deflecting.”
They were close now. The desk between them wasn’t much of a barrier anymore, not with how her knee brushed his thigh, not with how his voice dropped every time she fired back.
Angela licked her lips and leaned just slightly forward. “Alright then,” she said, voice low. “Truth or dare?”
Wesley didn’t blink. “Dare.”
“I dare you to kiss me.”
His mouth twitched into almost a smile. “Thought we were still warming up.”
“We were,” she said. “Now we’re not.”
Angela held his gaze. Daring. Like this didn’t matter. Like this was just a game, not everything they hadn’t been saying for weeks.
“Still thinking?” she asked, lips curling. “Starting to feel like a tactic.”
He leaned in a little closer, eyes scanning hers. “You always dare people into kissing you, or am I special?”
“You’re not special,” she said, too fast.
He raised a brow.
She exhaled, something almost like a laugh slipping out. “Fine. You’re... slightly special.”
“Mm.” Wesley sat back an inch. “I’m just trying to decide if you’re serious or bluffing.”
Angela’s tone was playful. “Do I look like I bluff?”
“You look like you’d dare a man into kissing you just to prove he won’t.”
She tilted her head, lips parting. “Maybe I would.”
“And maybe I’d do it,” he murmured, “just to see if you kiss back.”
Her smirk dropped just a little. There was nothing playful about the way she looked at him.
Like she wanted to know exactly what would happen if one of them finally stopped pretending.
Angela set her coffee down, eyes never leaving his.
“I don’t kiss back,” she said, voice low. “I kiss first.”
And then she did.
She leaned across the desk and caught his mouth with hers, not soft, not careful.
He stood, closing the space between them fully, his hand sliding into her hair like he’d wanted to do it for weeks.
The kiss deepened, messy and hungry.
When they finally pulled apart, Angela didn’t move back. Neither did he.
Her voice was breathless but steady. “You always make out with your clients?”
He smiled, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. “Only the terrifying ones.”
She laughed, quiet and real this time. Then: “Truth or dare?”
Wesley’s eyes glittered. “Dare.”
“I dare you to do that again.”
And he did.
They didn’t make it far.
Barely three steps from the desk, Wesley’s back hit the edge of the couch in the corner of the precinct’s empty break room.
She climbed onto his lap like she owned it, knees bracketing his thighs.
One hand curled in the collar of his shirt, still half-buttoned, wrinkled, the other pressed flat to his chest, like she was keeping him in place, like he might try to escape.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
“You still think I’m bluffing?” she asked, her mouth just inches from his.
Wesley inhaled sharply. “I think you’re trying to win.”
She grinned. “I always win.”
He caught her by the waist and pulled her against him, biting back a groan as her breath hitched, just for a second. “That so?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, leaning in close enough for their noses to brush. “You should’ve picked truth. Then I’d make you admit what this is.”
“Don’t need to,” he murmured. “You already know.”
She kissed him again, like it hurt not to.
But when she pulled back, something in her expression, was different.
“Truth or dare?” she asked again, voice low.
He didn’t even hesitate. “Dare.”
Her fingers tightened in his shirt. Her voice dropped into something deadly serious.
“I dare you to love me.”
His hands stilled on her hips. His breath caught, just once.
“I already do.”