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Department Q will notice. Of course they’ll notice, they’re all bloody good police officers, even if it took Carl longer than he’d have liked to realise it. He’s been doing that a lot lately, feeling nice things. Carl isn’t good at kindness but he’s getting better.
But it’s new, and doesn’t quite fit right yet. He knows, sat at his desk, bright eyed and unusually well rested, that it’s only a matter of time. He fiddles with the sleeve of the jumper he’s wearing- not his, which is the first thing they’ll see.
Hardy first, he’s known Carl the longest. He might not even be able to put a finger on what he’s seeing, but he’s never been afraid to call Carl out on his shit.
Speak of the devil, and he shall shoulder himself through the door on unsteady legs and certain arms. Hardy is good with the crutches, goes step by step. Carl would help but it’s not needed. Hardy’s got this.
“Y’alright, ya prick?”
It’s not strange that Carl is here first, but it is strange that he looks happy. He can only bite the bullet then.
Carl stands up from his desk, takes his time walking to Hardy’s. Places a cup of coffee down softly. That’s new, too, the softness. He needs more practice.
“Morning, Hardy.”
Hardy pauses, halfway to his chair. He takes Carl in, all of him, with a practiced eye.
“What the fuck is this then?” Fear pulses through Carl, quick, sudden, but it dissipates as fast as it’s there as he realises Hardy is smiling. “That’s Akram’s jumper, mate, in case you didn’t notice.”
Carl presses his hands to his eyes, rubs until stars erupt in his eyes. Raises his hands in defeat and can’t quite snuff out the unfamiliar pull at the corners of his mouth.
“Yep, yeah, it is.”
Hardy slaps his hand down on the desk. “Ohhhh, you bugger. Do you know what you’ve done?”
Now Carl’s just confused. What on earth-
“You know, we had a bloody betting pool on you ya twat.”
“A what?”
“A betting pool, Carl.” Rose sweeps through through the door and down the stairs to land by the murder board set up in the centre of the room. Akram is behind her, and Carl is astounded because he has the gall to not look the slightest bit surprised.
The more the merrier, then.
“Now it’s a party! You’re telling me you had a bet. A bet on what, when me and Akram were gonna bump uglies?” He exclaims. This is not at all what Carl anticipated.
“Is that what it is, then?” Rose smirks.
Akram shuffles up behind him, a comforting presence. Brushes their fingers together, more of that softness that melts Carl inside a little.
Carl sighs. “It’s….” Tightens his grip on Akram’s hand. “It’s good.”
Rose lights up, pivots to face the board, flips it and-
These little shits have a spreadsheet.
“Are you fucking kidding me.” Carl steps closer, keeps Akram’s hand and pulls him along with him. Scans the columns. Dates are circled, with cash amounts next to them, and names. “Fucks sake, the whole department?”
Hardy laughs, then sighs. “Pretty much. Shame, I only lost out by a day.”
Carl rubs his eyes again, exasperation this time.” Hell! We only got together this morning. Well, who bloody well won then?”
“Moira.”
The answer rumbles from beside him, Akram’s eyes crinkling as he looks up and across at him. Oh, that prick-
“Fucking Moira ?” Carl scoffs. “You’re shitting me- wait, you knew!” He rounds on Akram, laughs at the warm smile dancing across his face. “You devious bastard!”
He frees his hands, only to place them on both sides of this stupid, stupid man’s face. Leans down, pulls him close.
Akram shrugs, brushes his hand over Carl’s wrist. “I did not want to say. Ruin the surprise.”
“You never fail to catch me off guard, you know that?” Carl knows he sounds soft, that he’s doing this in front of everyone. Maybe he is getting better at it, because he can’t bring himself to care.
He turns his head towards his idiot team, drinking in their happiness, those cheeky bloody grins.
“Alright then, where’s all this money?”
Rose waves an envelope in his direction, Carl regretfully peeling a hand from Akram’s face to swipe it up. He presses a kiss to Akram’s cheek, then turns and pulls him with him as he moves determinedly towards the exit.
“Come on then! Let’s go deliver it in person, eh?” He grins wickedly, steadfastly ignoring the laughter that peals from his friends as he closes the door.
—
Carl moves through the station like a man possessed, a whirlwind that draws the attention of the entire department. He stops abruptly in the middle of the room, switching course to round on Stirling, Dochard and Sabir. They look wary. They should - Carl isn’t known for his kind words.
He opens his mouth, ready to unleash a little hell on his subordinates, when Akram shifts at his side. Carl growls, raises a warning finger at the trio, and swivels back to the task at hand.
Carl makes the aborted realisation as he reaches Moira’s office that he is still holding Akram’s hand. He looks across at him, squeezes it, and pushes through the door.
He swaggers up to the desk, Moira looking up distractedly from her laptop, only to freeze and refocus on the men as she takes in the sight.
“Hello, Moira.” Carl smirks. “You been keeping secrets from me, eh?”
Her eyes dart to the envelope, then across slightly to land, as subtly as a nuclear bomb, on his and Akram’s hands still tightly clasped.
She hums, closes her laptop, and steeples her fingers under her jaw. “So have you, Carl. How much did I win then? I didn’ae keep track really. Frankly I didn’t expect you to get your head out of your arse at all to be honest.”
Carl hums, flicks through the envelope one handed, counting as he absently responds. “Well, Moira, frankly, I didn’t expect you to get involved in our roughshod department enough to place a bloody bet on my relationship status!” He’s derailed as his mental tally of the cash ticks up and up. “Fucking hell woman, there’s a thousand quid in here.”
Akram silently reaches over and plucks the envelope out of Carl’s hand, splits out what he would estimate is half of the winnings, and places the rest on Moira’s desk.
“A token.” Akram nods. “ For my silence.” A small, sly smile flits across his face as he pushes Carl out of the door firmly.
Carl turns on him as the door clicks shut behind them.
“Them, I would expect, but you? ” He laughs, unconcerned at the audience that has gathered below to watch. “You cheeky little shit, you’re still full of surprises.”
He pulls his idiot in, craning his head down to brush their lips together. Chaste, he’s not looking to make a scene- well, more of a scene anyway.
Along with his kind words, Carl is not known for his subtlety. But he might be, now, known for his smile.