Work Text:
Cassie has taken to going out to the living room and sitting on the couch whenever she can’t sleep. It’s easier than risking waking Sloane up, although the more logical part of Cassie knows she won’t do that⎼⎼Sloane is not a light sleeper⎼⎼and that she’s just avoiding.
Avoiding what exactly, she’s not sure. Just avoiding in general.
Cassie plops down on the couch. Seconds later, the living room lights flick on.
Squinting against the sudden flood of light, Cassie peers at the doorway. “Hello?”
“Colorado,” Michael’s voice says in greeting. “Room for two on the couch?”
“Yeah,” Cassie says, scooting further over to the side even though there’s plenty of room. “You can’t sleep either?”
Michael’s silent for several seconds as he comes into the room and takes up a spot on the opposite end of the couch from Cassie. “Complicated,” he says finally.
Cassie gnaws at her bottom lip. “I feel bad for feeling bad,” she says after a long pause that clearly says Michael’s not going to elaborate. “Not feeling bad exactly, I guess. But my issues popped up again, when you and Sloane…”
She trails off.
Michael stands up abruptly, and Cassie blinks up at him. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Michael says, holding his hand out to Cassie. “You just sound like someone in desperate need of getting out of this house for a while.”
A ghost of a grin dances across Cassie’s face. She grabs Michael’s hand and lets him pull her to her feet. “Have anything in mind?”
“Actually, yes,” Michael replies mysteriously. “I’m a man full of surprises.”
Cassie rolls her eyes. “I’m a profiler.”
“And yet, I am still a man full of surprises.”
“I’m saying I could figure out what your surprises are.”
“Now, now,” Michael says. “That ruins all the fun.”
Cassie grins. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying half the fun is guessing?”
“Not for the person who’s coming up with all the ideas.”
“All the ideas?” Cassie asks, raising her eyebrows.
“I don’t see you contributing.”
“You haven’t asked me to.”
Michael snorts, and a ball of tension loosens in Cassie’s chest. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed their back-and-forth banter until now. They’d stopped when she’d chosen Dean, partly because it was safe to say that Michael hadn’t taken the rejection well.
“So,” Cassie says hopefully. “Where are we going?”
“Just wait and see, Colorado,” Michael replies, smirking. “Just wait and see.”
Cassie turns the living room lights back off on their way out. They slip out through the garage and get into Michael’s car, Michael driving and Cassie riding shotgun. Michael starts the car and backs out of the driveway. “Fair warning,” he says. “If we get caught, we will probably catch hell from Briggs and Sterling.”
“Especially after Vegas,” Cassie fills in.
Michael shrugs. “Yeah. But you’re already in. The car is moving. You can’t get out.”
“I could do what I wanted to,” Cassie says.
“It’s a free country,” Michael agrees. “But I have to warn you that jumping out of a moving vehicle is not the smartest thing to do.”
“Have you done it?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“So, yes,” Cassie guesses.
“You’re the profiler,” Michael says, stopping at a red light and meeting Cassie’s gaze. “You tell me.”
“I just did.”
“That you did.”
Cassie rolls her eyes.
Michael taps his fingers on the steering wheel. The light turns green, and he turns his focus back to the road. It’s just past midnight, and the road is practically empty aside from them. He drives in silence for several seconds before he says, “What’s on your mind?”
“What?”
“You’ve got a thinking face on.”
“I was just thinking about Sloane.” She’s not lying. Every time she’s looked at the blonde girl since Vegas, she’s seen a ghost of how shattered Sloane was at the safe house. “If we’d figured it out a little faster… if I’d⎼⎼”
“But you did figure it out,” Michael says abruptly, cutting Cassie off. “If you hadn’t, it would have just kept going.”
Cassie traces circles on her leg. “I know. But I figured out who the killer was and who the victim was going to be minutes too late.” Not even minutes.
“Trust me,” Michael says quietly. “I get it.”
They both felt Sloane’s pain, although Michael arguably more. He saw the emotions laid bare on her face every time he looked at her. Cassie hadn’t forgotten about that.
Michael pulls into a parking lot, and Cassie looks up. “A diner?”
“I’m in the mood for a milkshake,” Michael replies with a shrug, killing the engine and opening his car door.
Cassie can’t exactly say she’s not. She unbuckles her seatbelt and hops out of the car as well. “I haven’t been to a diner in a while,” she says to fill the silence as they walk up to the door. “The last one was the one I worked at.”
Michael smirks. “Yeah, Briggs and Sterling don’t get us out much.”
“How’d you know about this place?” Cassie asks curiously.
“Found it myself,” Michael replies. “Like the reckless driver I am.”
Cassie rolls her eyes. “Right.”
They walk in and order. Cassie plops down on one of the counter’s barstools. It’s a retro-style diner, with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and light-up neon signs on the walls. Michael takes the seat next to her. Cassie stares at him. “What’s on your mind?” she asks, throwing his earlier question back at him.
Michael shrugs, fiddling with his car keys. “You really want to know?”
“Of course I do,” Cassie replies, a little confused. “Are you thinking about how I chose Dean?”
“No.”
“Um. Okay. What are you thinking about, then?”
“How atrocious it was that I went to the diner you worked at and didn’t get a milkshake.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
Cassie huffs out a breath. “You can never tell with you, you know?”
Michael smirks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The person behind the counter slides two glasses over to them. Michael nods at them in acknowledgement and passes Cassie the chocolate one.
“Do you go to restaurants a lot?” Cassie asks. It’s a random question, and she’s pretty sure they both know it. “Or did you?”
Michael shakes his head. “No to both.”
“Me neither,” Cassie replies. “My mom liked to cook.”
“Was she good at it?”
Cassie pictures her mother in her head. “Not always.”
Michael snorts. “At least she was good sometimes. My parents are about the worst cooks ever.”
Cassie doesn’t push him when he stops talking. She knows his family is a sore spot for him, and talking about it can’t be easy.
“So,” she says conversationally. “How are we sneaking back in?”
“Never fear,” Michael says, somewhat dramatically. “I have a plan.”
“Better be a good one.”
“I’m insulted that you would think I had a bad plan,” Michael replies.
“You have a lot of bad plans,” Cassie points out.
“Shh. Let me have this.”
“Your plan hasn’t even worked yet.”
“It will,” Michael swears. “Trust me.”
Cassie shrugs. “Okay.”
That gives Michael pause. “Seriously?”
“What do you mean, seriously?” Cassie asks. “You said to trust you. I said okay.”
Michael shakes his head, his gaze meeting Cassie’s. “No. I mean, you seriously trust me? Just like that?”
“Well, yeah,” Cassie replies, a little confused. “Just because I chose Dean doesn’t mean I can’t trust you or anything. We’re still friends.”
“Right,” Michael says.
Cassie grins at him. “Next up, you and Dean are going to be friends.”
Michael rolls his eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“Shut up. It’ll work.”
“Redding hates me, Colorado.”
“I’ll get involved. I’ll third-wheel and force you to be civil to each other.”
“Half the fun is not being civil to each other.” Michael winks at her. “Maybe fighting is our love language.”
“That is not a love language,” Cassie replies, affronted.
“We’ll make it a new one.”
“That’s not how it works!” Cassie protests. “You’re going to get along. I’m calling it now.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I’ll be right,” Cassie promises. “You’ll see.”
Michael snorts. “We’ll see,” he repeats.
Cassie peers at the clock on the wall. “Is it too early to have given up on sleep?” she asks.
“Depends on your opinion of too early.”
“Hmm.”
Michael catches her gaze again. “If you want, we can just drive around for a little,” he says. “If you don’t want to head back just yet.”
“Sounds good,” Cassie says. “As long as you don’t break any traffic laws.”
“No promises, Colorado.”