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The apartment was quiet at 5 a.m.
Whitaker shuffled into the kitchen, half asleep.
Garcia was already there.
Fresh from a run, hair pulled back, cheeks still flushed from the cold morning air. She looked annoyingly awake for someone who had been up before sunrise.
Three mugs of coffee sat on the counter.
Garcia glanced over.
“Morning, White Chocolate.”
Whitaker blinked at her.
She smiled and pushed one of the mugs toward him.
“Bribe.”
He took it.
“What’s this for?”
Garcia leaned back against the counter, completely innocent.
“For last night.”
Whitaker slowly lowered the mug.
She lifted an eyebrow.
“If we kept you awake.”
He stared at her.
“You’re apologizing?”
“I can be polite.”
“That’s unsettling.”
Garcia laughed.
Whitaker took a sip.
“This is suspiciously good.”
“I’ve spent enough time with Trinity to know how she makes it.”
“Right.”
A beat.
Then he sighed.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
Garcia raised an eyebrow.
“Thin walls.”
“Very thin walls.”
She smiled into her coffee.
“Nothing we can do about that.”
“Apparently not.”
Whitaker studied her over the rim of his mug.
“You’re very cheerful for someone who woke up at the crack of dawn.”
“I like mornings.”
“That’s suspicious too.”
Garcia opened her mouth to answer.
The bedroom door opened.
Santos appeared in the doorway.
Sleepy. Messy-haired. Wearing a grey Brown soccer T-shirt that was slightly twisted from sleep.
She looked half dead.
Until she saw Garcia.
Something in her face shifted.
Her eyes softened.
Her mouth curved into a small, sleepy smile.
And just like that, she looked awake.
Whitaker caught it.
Garcia did too.
“Morning,” Garcia said, softer this time.
“Morning.”
Santos walked toward them.
Garcia’s eyes followed her the entire way.
“You sleep okay?”
Santos shrugged.
“Eventually.”
Whitaker nearly choked on his coffee.
Garcia smiled.
“Come here.”
Santos stopped in front of her.
“What?”
Garcia reached up and straightened the collar of her T-shirt.
“You’re crooked.”
“I just woke up.”
“I noticed.”
Her fingers lingered at Santos’s collar.
Santos looked down at them.
Then back at Garcia.
“You’ve been awake for hours.”
“Yeah.”
“You went running.”
“Yeah.”
“And made coffee.”
Garcia smiled.
“I’m a very functional human being.”
“That’s debatable.”
Garcia laughed.
“A functional human being who’s also going to take a shower.”
Garcia stepped closer, close enough that Santos had to tilt her chin up slightly to keep looking at her.
“And I could use some company.”
Santos raised an eyebrow.
Whitaker immediately became very interested in his coffee.
Santos held Garcia’s gaze for a moment.
Then the corner of her mouth lifted.
Garcia’s smile widened.
“You’re very easy.”
“Don’t push it.”
“I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
Garcia reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.
“Come on.”
Santos let herself be pulled closer.
As they passed Whitaker, Garcia glanced down at their joined hands, then back at Santos.
“You’re still wearing my shirt.”
Santos looked down at the grey Brown soccer T-shirt.
“I borrowed it.”
Garcia’s eyes flicked over her, lingering for just a second.
“Keep it. Looks good on you.”
Santos gave her a sideways look.
Garcia slipped an arm around her waist as they reached the hallway, pulling her just a little closer.
Santos leaned into her without thinking.
Whitaker saw it.
Neither of them noticed.
Or maybe they just didn’t care.
Garcia murmured something into Santos’s ear.
Whatever it was made Santos let out a quiet, breathy laugh.
Santos shook her head, but she was smiling.
Garcia opened the door and tugged her gently inside.
Then the door clicked shut.
Whitaker sat there for a second.
He knew what they called it.
Casual.
That was the word.
Their favorite word.
The word they used whenever things got a little too close to something neither of them wanted to name.
But Whitaker had eyes.
He’d seen the way Santos looked at Garcia when she thought nobody was paying attention.
The way Garcia always seemed to find an excuse to touch her.
A hand at her waist.
Fingers brushing her arm.
They could call it casual all they wanted.
Whitaker wasn’t buying it.
He took another sip of coffee.
Maybe they weren’t ready to admit what everyone else could already see.
That was fine.
They’d figure it out.
Eventually.
He just hoped the walls were thicker.