Chapter Text
Why did the detective enjoy collecting (or stealing) clothing? It wasn't the worst quirk. It was better than smelling like a walking bar. The random smells of other people and unknown origins wasn't ideal, but it was better than booze, piss, and possibly vomit.
And that horrid tie that took Harry days to get off the ceiling fan. Kim had no idea why it took the detective so long to get it down.
Today was absolutely no different. Investigating, poking around and looking into everything around. The rustling of clothing was a familiar sound now. Kim sighed, quietly. What fashion abomination did Harry have on now? Another jacket with obscenities? Sports gear? He wasn't about to turn and look. Not yet, at least.
Whenever Kim did turn, however, he nearly choked on an intake of cold air.
Where did Harry find a mesh top and why was he wearing it? That was entirely unprofessional. So was the fact that Kim couldn't stop staring at the tufts of chest hair peeking out between the mesh, or the fact that his eyes kept wandering.
Harry seemed pleased with himself, at least. There was a pair of gloves on that Kim barely noticed; probably the reason why Harry changed clothes. Supposedly it helped him think. It got results. Over the mesh top was his usual green jacket, which covered tantalizing biceps and more body hair. That had to be how he stayed so warm. Body hair. Like a bear.
Kim was getting distracted again.
He sighed. An hour, day, or days of being with Harry in that damn top was going to be the death of him. How was he going to stay focused? How could anyone stay focused with such tempting, soft flesh just barely out of touch? Barely out of the perfect view?
Would Harry's skin be soft? Or would it feel worn and rough, like the rest of him? Did he like being touched, having hands trail down, over his chest, his stomach, reaching down to-
Kim needed a smoke break.
Harry, despite usually being able to perfectly read everything and get inside people's heads somehow, didn't notice the fact that Kim wasn't focusing. The blue notebook had been forgotten about, pen still poised to write down whatever new clues or information Harry got from thin air.
Kim didn't catch what the detective was saying. He blinked into reality, catching the tail end of it being that this location wasn't an ideal location for the shot to have taken place from. He nodded in agreement. Despite not paying attention at all, it was easy to determine that fact. Too far, too many obstacles in the way.
Kim tried not to stare as he followed behind Harry (who was thankfully walking) to do...whatever. Collect tare, talk to someone, check those supposed cryptid traps? Whatever it could be. He failed the task of not staring. It wasn't just the mesh top, either. It was the muttonchops that perfectly fit Harry's face, adding a sense of completion that was inexplainable. It was the way his hands looked and the way his ass looked in those track pants.
Where had he found those? Or the mesh top? The gloves were from nearby in the fishing village, but the mesh top was from...Heaven, maybe? A gift from the angels to bless one very, very tired lieutenant?
Probably not. This was more of a challenge, a temptation put in front of a very tired and lonely lieutenant who was becoming increasingly aware that this mess of a human being was attractive. Even with the scent of booze still stuck to him like glue, even with the occasional moments of saying otherwise insane things. Especially those. No other man could ever be like Harry.
No smoke break could distract these thoughts.
Kim watched Harry inexplicably stop, seeming to be observing the area silently, gaze distant. He raised a brow. Harry's gaze suddenly met his and the world seemed to entirely stop.
There was no words said. For an uncomfortably long time. Harry just stared, unblinking, head tilting slightly to the side. He looked like a lost dog when he did that. Kim stared back, silent as well. Waiting for some breakthrough in the case to occur or for his unprofessional behavior to be called out.
What he had not anticipated was Harry to take off that green jacket and unceremoniously place it around Kim's shoulders. It smelled awful. It was warm. It was Harry's.
"You're cold." Was all Harry said. As if he wasn't standing in the cold wearing nothing but a mesh top, a pair of gloves, and some track pants he...where did those come from again? Kim couldn't recall. It was almost laughable. But the view was not.
"And what about you?" He kept his voice surprisingly steady. Harry just shrugged in response. Probably trying to have some sort've strong, unbothered masculine moment? Or just genuinely not caring about the cold. And caring more about the fact that Kim was cold.
There was a tightness in Kim's chest at the thought.
There was no further response as Harry returned to continuing onward. Kim didn't say anything. He kept the green jacket like a cape, holding the sleeves against the wind as he walked. It did help against the chill. Especially with the sun setting, vanishing beneath the ocean to rest in the murky depths.
It was getting late. Harry paid for his room. Garte raised a brow at seeing Kim with Harry's jacket around his shoulders. Nothing was said. The two made it upstairs. Harry seemed eager to hit the hay, ready to collapse into his messy room.
"Your jacket." Kim surprised himself with how soft his voice was. Harry turned, blinking. As if he forgot about his jacket. "Thank you. It was...surprisingly good at keeping the chill away."
Harry smiled. Kim felt his insides twist in response.
"It'll be cold tomorrow." Harry replied, gaze drifting to the window. "You should keep it for tomorrow too." His smile widened. "You seem to like it."
Kim glanced at how tight he was holding the jacket in his hands. As if it was a precious treasure he didn't want to give up. He blinked, forcing his fingers to relax. He didn't respond. Harry noticed that. Of course he did.
"It makes your eyes look nice. Like two perfect black pearls in a field of green." Harry said that as if it was a normal thing to say. It made the air get stuck in Kim's lungs and a warmth form on his face. He didn't say anything, just breathed out a slightly shaky sigh. "Goodnight Kim."
Kim nodded slightly. "Sleep well, detective." He managed to get out without sounding like he was about to choke. Harry went into his room. Kim did the same, sitting at the end of his bed with that damn jacket.
He stared at it.
The stains stared back.
He found himself smiling despite trying not to.