Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

As soon as they walk out of the detention centre, Mizi's carefree smile drops. "So, it's not looking good for our client. Good job at freaking her out, by the way."

"Sorry, ma'am," Till apologises sheepishly, not meeting her eyes. It's only his third case, and the standard procedure hasn't been calcified in his mind quite yet. He should be deeply ashamed of himself. His head droops lower, though it might be the sleep deprivation.

Mizi sighs. "I've asked you to not call me ma'am. I'm only a year older than you, y'know?"

"Sorry," Till apologises again, biting his tongue so the title won't slip out a second time.

"Well, no matter," Mizi continues. "Nothing a little investigation can't fix! Let's head to the crime scene." She turns to walk away, but turns back around a few steps in, once she notices Till isn't following. She beckons to Till like someone would a dog. "C'mon, let's get going!"

"Investigation... Lee's on this case, right? Do you think he's going to be there?"

"Oh, almost definitely. Let's hurry then, shall we? He's always there bright and early."

Till perks up, tiredness instantly forgotten. He's been wracking his head over a solution to this little problem, and after a bit of digging, he has a flawless plan. How do you catch a mouse? Well, you lure it with bait.

"I have a plan!" he declares, startling Mizi with the sudden increased volume of his voice. "Uh, I just have to make a quick detour first!"

"Oh, really?" Mizi smiles, tilting her head. A strand of hair slips out of her hair claw as she does. Even this grungy morning is no match for her — she's put together with no less beauty than any other day. She's dressed lighter than her usual due to the heat, suit jacket left behind in the office, but her signature bow sits on her chest, contrasting her white dress shirt. It's a smart, distinctive choice that Till really admires. Today, her colour is green. Surely, it's a good omen.

It's been a dream of his to finally work with her, even if it is mostly stacking and sorting papers in her office. But they’re out and about now, on a case, so this is finally a chance for him to prove that he's worth his badge.

It's time to shine, Till! Time to impress and be the best assistant, no, more than just her assistant, her- something that's not just her glorified secretary!

"Can you grab me a coffee while you're at it? And another one for yourself too, you look like you need it."

Till puts 'look into concealer for dark circles' right after 'find ten times effectiveness melatonin' on his to-do list.

Till

Till arrives to the crime scene a couple minutes later than he promised, a feat that only requires the sacrifice of his dignity. He can feel a bead of sweat roll down the side of his neck from the exertion of power walking halfway across town, and he really hopes his sweat patches are not visible. If only the grocery store was on the downhill side of town, for the human body loses very easily to a slight incline.

The police at the scene try to bar him from entering until he name-drops Mizi, and she notices him and waves him over. It's his line of work, yet he still gets confused for some random troublemaker, even when he presents his hard-earned badge. Maybe he should take Mizi's tip and start slicking his hair back to be taken seriously. Maybe everyone would start acknowledging his profession if he had the essence of lawyerism coating his hair.

"I know it's a greengrocer, but you didn't have to turn into a tomato to come in," Mizi comments, then breaks into a fit of giggles.

Till chokes out a single, listless, "Ha."

He hands Mizi her coffee, her regular double shot iced latte, and takes a deep gulp of his own. He pushes the bitterness to the back of his throat.

A voice calls from behind him. "No coffee for me?"

Till jumps, nearly getting coffee all over his superior he's really trying his best not to fuck up in front of. "Shit!" he swears, completely fucking it up. "You- Jesus, don't fucking do that!"

Turning around, he's greeted with the grinning face of the pest he's trying to eliminate today — Prosecutor Ivan Lee.

"Good morning to you, too," Ivan greets, without missing a beat. "It's quite an interesting case we've got on our hands today, isn't it?"

He is properly dressed, as usual. There's not a single misplaced crease in his dark blue suit, and his necktie is so tight it's a wonder he can still talk in it. If he's sweltering in his full getup, then he doesn't show a single sign of it.

While Till's heartrate returns to normal, Mizi speaks amicably to their shared enemy. "Indeed, Ivan. Do you have any information to share, perhaps?"

"Ms. Lovelace, you know as much as I do. Why else would I show up personally?"

"Of course, Prosecutor. I was just hoping you'd have something for me one of these days. Good luck on your investigation, then!" Mizi gives him a small wave, then rushes off to the storeroom, the exact location of the murder, before Ivan could hog the attention of all the investigators there.

Now it's Till's turn to strike! The time is nigh to reveal his secret weapon! He will end Ivan's reign of terror over the crime scene once and for all!

Unceremoniously, he shoves a pack of snackoos into Ivan's chest. Ivan fumbles, undoubtedly perplexed at being struck with such a fatal blow to his person.

Till grins maniacally. Gotcha!

Ivan examines the bag in his hands, turning it back to front and over again, with all the care of a seasoned professional. He's got a couple years of experience on Till, but he won't let that get him down. At the end of the day, they're about the same age. It's basically equal footing.

Ivan's silence is slightly unsettling. Maybe it worked too well? Till clears his throat. "So?"

Ivan raises a manicured eyebrow. "Is this a bribe, Mr. Thanh?"

A familiar heat returns to Till's face as he gapes. "No! It's- It's a gift! No strings attached!"

Ivan nods, serene. "I know how this works. Don't worry, I got your message."

"What message? Don't get the wrong idea." Till tangles his fingers in his own hair, messing up his already messy hairstyle. "Look — I'll just take it back, alright? No harm, no foul."

"I heard these are quite popular in the division, so much so that they're regularly sold out. How did you acquire this rare commodity?"

"Twice the price at the corner store– Okay, not the point! Just give it back, alright?"

Till watches as he digs his fang into the flesh of his lip in a frown. Is he… upset? "That's a shame. I wanted to finally try the famed 'snackoos'."

"Then.. you can have it..?"

Ivan beams at him. "You're too generous, Mr. Thanh. I'm truly indebted to you."

Till

Till

Maybe it was always fated that Till's plan ends up falling through. It hinged on Till's flimsy line of logic, constructed in the early hours of the morning: if Ivan was too busy crunching away at snackoos, then he wouldn't have a chance to speak. Unfortunately, he wildly underestimated his opponent. Ivan snacked and chatted with ease, and worse, he snacked slow. How does one possibly snack slow, in the face of snackoos no less?

Till tries not to grimace at the result of his doomed mission. Hours of stalking through Ivan's Instagram, scrolling through selfie after selfie after curated photoshoot, being exposed to all his thirst traps for nothing! No force could possibly stop this unmovable wall, not even a sweet treat against a notorious sweet tooth. The world must be against him, and if so, fuck everything.

All the while, Ivan chats all sorts of inane topics as Till half-heartedly nods along with his one word answers. The weather comes up at least twice. He makes a fruit pun, laughs at himself, and eats his fourth snackoo. Any normal person would have gone through at least half the pack by now. Till stares at the nearly full bag in dismay.

"Oh, did you want one?" Ivan asks. "You were the one who bought it."

As Till shakes his head, a new figure steps up towards their spot at the front of the store.

"How unprofessional, Prosecutor Lee. You'll get crumbs all over the crime scene," Sua says, tone characteristically flat.

"Detective Baek!" Ivan greets cheerfully. With practiced precision, she side steps out of the way before his hand gets anywhere near her shoulder. It doesn't dim his smile in the slightest.

She's dressed in her cropped trench coat, and sharp, black dress pants. Her headband pushes most of the hair out of her face, an appearance of tidiness that Till doesn't dare question. Still, there's a familiar aura of tiredness to her. Till should ask for her brand of concealer.

Sua turns towards Till and pauses. "You're sitting on the conveyor," she observes, quite accurately.

Till jumps off immediately. "Sorry."

She looks back to Ivan in a move that could be patient, or cold, or judging. "Should I ask for someone to escort you out?"

Instead of responding, Ivan offers her the bag, shaking it once so the snackoos rattle a taunt from within. "Do you want one? You look hungry."

Sua looks to the bag, then at Ivan and his chocolate-coated fingertips. Her silence speaks volumes.

Ivan shakes the bag again. "I insist."

"Expect my report by two o'clock. Goodbye." With those words, Sua promptly turns on her heel and heads back to work.

"She's in a good mood, isn't she?"

Till really doesn't know what to make of it. Ivan is enough of a riddle for him already — his professional relationship with Sua is not something Till wants to touch with a ten foot pole.

"Well, it's off to work with me as well, then. And you too, I presume." Ivan pockets the snackoos, then rests a hand on Till's shoulder like they’re buddies.

Great. The hazard is freshly back in the workplace, well fed on Till's hard found snackoos. Good work, Till. What a way to advance your career.

"Bye, Lee," Till says in a sigh, spirit completely broken.

Ivan pauses. "You can call me Ivan, like Ms. Lovelace does."

"If you don't call her by her name, why should I call you by yours?" Till rebuts.

"That would be unprofessional, wouldn't it?" Ivan says, as if it makes all the sense in the world. There is something deeply wrong with the man in front of him; not that it's new information to anyone that’s spoken more than a couple words to him.

"Then by your logic, isn't calling you 'Ivan' unprofessional?"

"How do I say this... Well, you are not exactly known for your professionalism."

Till is struck speechless. Ivan looks down at him in pity, like he's a lost soul that's never been taught manners.

Before Till can say anything he would regret, like cursing Ivan out and proving his exact point, he bites his own finger. Mizi's words of wisdom ring through his head. 'Your demeanour affects others — you'll never get a satisfactory testimony by pressing people too hard, you have to find another way.' Translated: he'll never win if he blows up at Ivan, like he wants him to. He has to find another way.

However, he hasn't fully learnt to tone it back yet. What comes spilling out his mouth might possibly be worse.

"Well, no one knows me for anything, yet! They didn't even let me in because they didn't know me! If you weren't in my way, constantly, then maybe I would've made my debut by now! It's because of you that Mizi doesn't acknowledge me!"

Till

Till

Ivan grins at him after he's done laughing up a lung. It even creases the front of his perfect suit, and he has to readjust his tie as he stands up straight. Till regrets rushing to him in concern, in fear that he was about to throw up, and he regrets the part of him that doesn’t think it is Ivan’s prerogative to make fun of him.

"My apologies, Thanh. Look, I'll do you a favour. Think of it as payback."

"What is it?" Till asks warily. The change in his tune freaks him out so much that he nearly misses Ivan's drop of title.

"Oh, don't worry, it's nothing major. Just a tip, you know, so you'll be acknowledged as an attorney, as you so desperately desire."

Till squints at him, and hesitantly agrees. He immediately regrets it when Ivan steps into his personal space, and reaches even closer.

"What-" he stammers, as Ivan's deft fingers pulls his tie loose. "What are you- We're in public!"

"My, my," Ivan remarks, smirking. "What a dirty mind you have. Is this what you intended with your bribe?"

"No!" Till whisper-shouts.

"You're lucky we've been loitering at the cash registers the whole time, with no one to bother us," Ivan continues. "No one has to see your... indiscretion."

Till feels dizzy with the amount of blood that's rushed to his head. It's like he's been hung upside down; a newborn baby, being forced to cry to open its lungs. He grips at the counter weakly, with sweaty palms.

Ivan looks at him with his brow furrowed — in concentration? And God, his eyebrows really are perfectly manicured, aren’t they? Tills gaze creeps down. His eyes, usually unsettling, are looking down, thick lashes obscuring most of his iris. He even has a light flush on his face, maybe from the heat of his suit, maybe something else entirely. Till looks down a little more. He's biting one side of his lip, and from this distance, Till can see the plushness of it, and just how red they are.

Till is reminded of why he only can scroll through Ivan's Instagram curled up in the safety of his blankets, in the dark, during the early hours of the morning. It's not a sight for the weak of heart.

"All done!" Ivan announces, stepping back, the air filling back between them. Till blinks himself back to reality.

"Wuh- huh?" he asks, concisely.

"At this age, and in this profession, it really is imperative to learn how to tie a tie correctly," Ivan lectures. "I've done it for you today, but I expect you to bring this forward into the future."

Till looks down, and sure enough, his tie is tied perfectly. What the fuck?

"Roll your sleeves down, button your cuffs, and you'll fully look the part. But I understand if you need to take it step by step." Ivan is giving him that look again, the one that makes him look so- so… punchable. Till stares uneasily at him, unsure at what to do. Ivan frowns.

In a flash, Ivan steps closer again. His hands return to Till's collar, and Till just lets him because he's learnt nothing from their time together.

Ivan, the motherfucker he is, tightens the tie so much that it's practically strangling him. Till chokes, and scrambles to loosen it again. "Fuck.. you..!"

Ivan laughs at him again. "Oh, and it would be good if you did anything with your hair too, even if only in court." Ivan's hands are in his hair now, pushing back his fringe. "Hm, your forehead isn't half bad, really. Look into it, alright?"

He steps back and smiles innocently like he hasn't just delivered a barrage of insults about how Till is ugly and stupid. And then strangled him. Career be damned, Ivan needs to be taught a lesson.

Ivan inclines his head in Till's direction. "I'll see you in court, Thanh. Goodbye, now."

Another plan starts to form in Till's mind: his only hope of redemption is by trouncing Ivan's ass in court. If Ivan was to humiliate him publicly, then Till must too, twofold. "You haven't seen the last of me..!" Till threatens.

Ivan snorts. "I hope not."

Mizi looks chipper as she greets Till again. "You did a great job, Till! I was able to get through investigation without a hitch."

Besides her, Sua nods too. "I agree." It's still a strange sight to Till, to see a defence attorney and a detective so buddy-buddy like they are, but it's not like he has any right to comment on it, right after what just happened to him.

Wait, was that a compliment from Sua?

"What do you mean? I don't think I've managed to do anything today," Till grumbles.

"Why, distracting Ivan, of course." Mizi looks around again, taking a general sweep of the area. "You even got him to leave. Wow, you're really the best assistant any attorney could ask for! High five!"

Till meets her hand halfway. It's a pathetic high five, barely making a noise, so Mizi urges him to do another. The following one leaves the palm of his hand tingling in pain. She really is strong.

"How did you manage it?" she asks.

"Uh."

"Wait a second! The look on your face tells me I don't want to know." Mizi smirks at him, then pats him twice on the shoulder knowingly. Till doesn't know what she knows.

"You were oddly touchy feely with Prosecutor Lee," Sua puts bluntly.

Her words send Till into a coughing fit. "What did you see- I mean- no, that wasn't me! It was him!"

"I'm sure," Mizi says.

"He keeps ignoring my reports to go on unrelated tangents about you. Try to keep your contact to a minimum, please."

"Till!" Mizi gasps, scandalised. "You must tell me all about this back at the office."

"There's nothing to tell!" Mizi just looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really!"

"Did you hear that, Sua? 'I hate my boss'? How could he say such a thing?" She sniffles dramatically and wipes a faux tear from her eye. To top it off, she also wraps her arms around Sua's shoulders, and pretends to cry into her hair.

"I didn't say that!" Till defends desperately.

Sua hums. "Oh, Mizi, it sounds like he's saying, 'You should fire me'. For once, he's probably right."

Belatedly, after taking preventative measures from crying in front of his boss, Till realises that he knows absolutely nothing about the case he needs to beat Ivan in- that he's meant to be helping Mizi on. With no other choice, he resigns himself to another all-nighter.