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making eye contact with the still timid nurse, ivory shakes her head at the latter, making it clear that although misty rucker may want coffee, she will not be mixing a stimulant and a sedative. ❝ i'm okay, thank you. ❞ the doctor assures, offering the menu back to the nurse. truth be hold, her stomach had begun churning upon finding out the detective was injured in the field. . . it is only now beginning to stop. ❝ i'm feeling a bit nauseous. ❞ she clarifies toward her companion, features once against burying against her collar.

very little else sounds appetizing to misty. cinnamon and sugar remind her of home, of a time when she was loved and protected; it betrays, in several small ways, that she wants comfort ( and has always been an emotional eater ). ivory provides a significant portion of that comfort – but not all of it. nevertheless, she trusts her. grumbling, she takes the menu and peruses while the nurse goes about her business. ❝ i want fruit. and a coffee, ❞ she demands. ❝ but you have to tell them that i have a severe strawberry allergy. ❞ she hands the menu to her lover. ❝ what do you want, ivy? ❞
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oh. there is not a single thought left behind those big, brown eyes. misty plays a hidden hand, rendering the scholar defenceless against a cheeky retort. nonetheless, the look in the detective's eyes shows that she knows EXACTLY what she is doing, and by the time her colleague is seated across the dash, goosebumps have already risen over the scholar's pale flesh. ❝ o-okay. ❞ she hears herself stutter, putting the vehicle into drive as nails grip harshly against the gearshift. now she knows exactly how misty rucker had felt that fateful evening, it makes her mouth dry and heat radiate from the top layers of her skin. focus on the road, ivory, lest you go in the ditch. it does not matter, no matter how many times the doctor endeavours to find a suitable response, she remains dazed and visibly delirious.

above her left breast, there is printed the emblem for the police department – expanded upon with the words ‘protect and serve’ underneath. she has never been very good at doing either of those things, though she has become better as a detective. it is a contradictory stance: taking advantage of ivory while also seeking to protect her from others ( or a hefty stack of case files ). but misty does not dwell on the idiosyncrasy when there is elsewhere for her attention to be had. she adamantly holds the door open and leans down to say, ❝ my little girl likes to be spoiled. ❞ it is like throwing a flash bang and ducking away; the detective rounds the car to the passenger’s side and smiles when she finds her victim in a daze. ❝ hurry along. ❞
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the princess is a natural caregiver, and though engrained with a maternal persona, she rarely gets a chance to coddle. her consideration is shown as she struggles to pull forth the bucket, unaccustomed to such awkward weight, and eventually offers the contents to her beloved. the gesture is as caring as it is pure, and she lowers back to the ground. hands cross atop her lap as she kneels with bright, doe eyes regarding her lover in hopes of validation. ❝ you're welcome. ❞ she BEAMS, grateful that the seemingly easy feat was manageable for someone so weak. ❝ all those hours in such intense heat, though that is not what impairs you. ❞
thoughts weave without ever forming a recognizable pattern, and so misty simply waits for the sweltering realization to pass. ivory shines as brightly as the sun; underneath her gaze, she is at her mercy. pressing both palms against the stone alleviates some of the stress while she waits for bucket to be drawn up.

the cool water disappears from her cup almost as quickly as it is filled – drunk without pause. it dribbles down her chin, running into the notch of her collar and dampening her dress. she swallows another cupful, though she pours the last of it in the palm of her hand to be smoothed across the nape of her neck. ❝ thank you. i am…already feeling much better. ❞ i am at your whim, and i fear unprepared to receive the intensity of your affection.
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dark hues flutter closed, relishing in the rare sensation of genuine trust. misty shatters the moment, as the scholar should have expected, though it coaxes forth a whimper which catches in the back of her throat. when the doctor meets those icy hues, her own dazed and slightly confused, she offers a nod in reassurance. ❝ i . . . don't kiss people often. ❞ she whispers, the admittance acting as a delicate piece of surrender. i don't get close to people often ; i will not give them the chance to put a knife into my back. ❝ but it isn't so bad with you. ❞

ivory ends the kiss first. the salt on her breath brings misty back to the present moment, wherein the lips she touched belonged to a living person. anxiety gurgles in her stomach, spewing irrational fears that catch in her throat. you enjoyed that, didn't you? but you can't enjoy it too much; something is going to go wrong. ivory will want more; she'll want this intimacy as repayment for corpses –– and what will you do then? the necrophile is not one to ask for reassurance, but the words are already halfway out before she can swallow them. ❝ it was? ❞ misty asks, withdrawing to limit the prolonged physical contact.
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the scholar knows she is giggling at her own expense, though there is something undeniably adorable about witnessing the detective so carefree. ❝ shhh. ❞ she shushes the rowdy woman from her position buried against her collar, one arm raising so she may stroke her colleague's opposite cheek. ❝ i will get to whatever sweets you want later. for now, you should just have something in your stomach. ❞ the doctor clarifies, shifting so she may peer up at her lover with those large, affectionate eyes ( much to the nurse's luck. )

the nurse apologizes, saying that there are no pastries available and would you prefer french toast instead? they can put cinnamon on it. but misty feels her eyes narrow. droop. and she accuses rather bitterly: ❝ do you think i want french toast just because i'm french? ❞ which flusters the woman, who tries to smooth over the misunderstanding – only to be interrupted with an impatient groan and an entitled eye-roll. ❝ can i have a cinnamon roll? my sister is going to visit. ❞
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ivory grimes does not budge as lithe digits fidget with the button on her blouse, an amused smirk quirking the corners of pale lips. the doctor KNOWS how it feels to be wanted, though there is something electric about being wanted by the ironclad detective ( and in experiencing the subtle manner in which the older woman pampers her. ) ❝ is that not what you want to be ? ❞ the scholar picks up a bat and joins the game, near hanging off the driver's door as she leans towards her suitor, blatantly ignoring her chivalry. ❝ uniform and all. ❞ she continues to purr, dark hues openly examining the woman from head to toe. ❝ and all this fuss just to protect little old me. ❞ she pretends to acknowledge, finally ducking into the driver's side with an amused chuckle.

misty rucker looks at the younger woman like she is something to chew on; an indulgent meal, savory and sweet; liquor that warms inside of her and makes everything come undone. she looks at her and licks her lips. with the files discarded, her hands are free to do as they please. she unbuttons the next button on her blouse, revealing the beginnings of a coral-colored bra. ❝ is that what i am? ❞ i thought i was your daddy. with hands upon a petite waist, misty shifts ivory to the side and opens the driver's side door. gesturing – already amused by the words that have yet to come out of her mouth – she says, ❝ after you, your highness. ❞
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ivory grimes has never had a kiss that stopped her heart, and the scholar will be damned if THIS is it. nonetheless, there is something soft about their current dynamic. for so long, the killer has been nothing but sharp edges upon an uneven surface, and to feel the delicacy her counterpart can provide melts her where she sits. dark hues flutter closed as lips press against her own, her thumbs instinctively caressing the skin of her lover's wrists. god, it feels so good to be trusted. it promises all the things misty rucker provides without admittance : safety, understanding, acceptance. the doctor remains close as she pulls back for air, forehead resting against her girlfriend's as she catches the breath stolen from her lungs. ❝ y-yeah, that was good. ❞ ivory whispers. god, she's dizzy.

it's just a kiss, misty tells herself. nothing more is going to happen; ivory is not expecting anything else from you. blood pounds in her ears, under the thumbs that settle on her pulse points. it's embarrassing allowing the psychologist to feel how intimidated she is by something so insignificant. think of her as a corpse; think of the first time your lips touched their's… she cradles her girlfriend's face in clammy hands and presses their lips together in a slow kiss that savors the feeling. for a moment, she is returned to the illicit exhilaration from so many years ago, and everything feels safe.
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the minute the station door closes, leaving behind a stunned crowd of onlookers, ivory does not bother to hide her wandering gaze. although her lover is dressed in clothes that leave much to the imagination, the mere power exerted by her uniform is an undescribable turn-on. approaching her car, the scholar separates long enough to open the back seat, gesturing her chivalrous partner to discard the pile of files so kindly carried for her. ❝ and i like it when you look at me like that. ❞ the psychologist muses softly, though she mentally circles the detective like a shark to its prey, leaning smoothly against the side of her vehicle. she wants to have a little fun, lest misty rucker think she can have whatever she wants. ❝ hm. who'd have thought you'd be my knight in shining armour. ❞

❝ so i've noticed, ❞ misty murmurs, leaving behind kellerman, who gawks at how quickly the two are on each other again. a quiet rolls through the police station along with them. half the squad turns their heads, stopping mid-sentence to watch detective rucker and doctor grimes leave – glued to each other, unashamed – in the sober light of day. their gazes are ignored ( insofar as misty merely smirks, proud to have the sexiest, smartest woman in the room on her arm ). she walks straight out the front door and follows her lover to her car.
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the scholar knows that those HANDS are as cold as they are soft, she wants nothing more than to feel them against her flesh. it causes goosebumps to rise across pale arms and there is a brief moment where not a single thought can be processed in her left hemisphere. god, she's gorgeous . . . cautious hands raise, grasping gently at the older woman's wrists. her thumbs caress over unfamiliar flesh, relishing in the unfamiliar feeling. ❝ kiss me slowly. ❞ the doctor hears herself whisper.

misty huffs. it was a lame attempt at disproving ivory, she recognizes that – however, for her, doing so unprovoked was a feat. her lips tingle from the suddenness, from the nervousness that comes with confronting her inadequacies. the hand that held the scholar's jaw has since fallen, and it now draws back to touch her chin, her thumb grazing her lower lip. ❝ then i think it's time that you show me what is, ❞ she says, undercutting the edges of her anxiety with a softer, more submissive approach.
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the doctor allows herself to be tugged down the hall, falling easily into step with the authoritative woman. although being nestled in another's side is a foreign feeling to the usually unaccompanied doctor, some pride accompanies being so openly shown off. widened, brown eyes sparkle with amusement upon meeting the detective's partner, who rolls her own at misty's announcement. ❝ i'll have that case finished for you by morning, kellerman. ❞ ivory comments amusedly, though it becomes evident that the au pair can get away with whatever they please. ❝ i like it when you take control. ❞ she continues to purr under her breath.

the doctor does not need to be under the influence of fruity punch and arousal, because she does not CARE what others think. she does not care about anything other than being what misty rucker wants most. and, nowadays, she is everything. ❝ i know what i want, ❞ is all that the detective replies. with a short step forward, she pulls ivory into lockstep – where, around the corner, kellerman lingers in conversation with a fellow detective. ❝ i am going out for lunch. if you need me, ❞ she says, glancing back at her partner, ❝ you don't. ❞
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oh, ivory grimes can barely hide how she MELTS. leisurely banter falls back into place despite a different dynamic ; it is evident to the doctor that the safety established within misty rucker is VALID. ❝ mhm. . . ❞ ivory hums softly, though the hallways are still empty, and she uses the absence to attempt an upper hand. standing on her tiptoes, it is easy for the scholar to lean in, utilizing the detective's stature to support her own. ❝ but it is not MY lunch break. ❞ she whispers alongside her ear, the hint of a smirk evident in her tone. ❝ nor is it MY workplace. ❞

the first question is answered with a half-smirk, a half-shrug. somewhat. although, the detective cannot find it within herself to feel too poorly about taking advantage of ivory, because the young woman is sober now – and no less eager to touch her. ( moreover, misty intends to reciprocate whatever pleasure she experiences. after all, they will only need a fraction of the thirty minutes they'll have in private. ) ❝ hardly, ❞ she asserts, smooth as the burn of alcohol. ❝ however, everyone will know that you're entertaining me on my lunch break. ❞
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the princess is never so vulgar ( though anyone with a truly obscene mind would think her tame. ) even so far outside her comfort zone, her highness feels safer than ever in the older woman's arms. nonetheless, her beloved prolongs her suffering by spotlighting such salacious admittances. as the once fierce woman grows delirious, the princess merely giggles in knowledge of her newfound power.
❝ though you no longer labour in the sun ? ❞ she teases, allowing her weight to shift from where she straddles her lover's lap. pale hands brush down the stained fabric of her dress, a bemused smirk barely notable across porcelain features as she draws the bucket from the depths of the well. all these years the young royal has been bathed in riches, though never has she felt so alive.
rise, though misty tries – she cannot; it takes only three words to knock her down and another three to leave her speechless. of all the professions that she heard while living in emerstrand, all were vulgar and forceful. it disgusted her. she never knew such declarations could be sweet and gentle; she never knew she could be so affected by them.

it makes sense now: the sudden ailment that overcame ivory after bathing her. after seeing her naked. the mere thought of being graced with the princess' nakedness makes her DIZZY. innocent, sky-blue eyes gaze upon her highness with an influx of desire and disorientation – blinking rapidly ❝ i- i must insist i have another glass of water, ❞ misty stammers, the effort scratching her voice. she leans into the cool stone of the well as a bead of sweat rolls down her pallid forehead.
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ivory is too stubborn to disregard her hurt feelings, despite how her partner attempts to rectify them with mediocre words. it is not enough for the famed psychologist, not much is. nevertheless, caught up in her pouting, she does not predict her girlfriend's next actions. heat floods into pale cheekbones, dark brown hues peering wide-eyed at the suddenly brazen woman before her. the kiss is not memorable in that it was far too quick, and ivory hears herself stuttering. ❝ that . . . that was not a kiss. ❞ she mutters dazedly.

ivory acts as though she has been fatally wounded – cut high across her thigh, in reflection of the scar recently brought into existence. this girl is so melodramatic. but misty herself is no better. ❝ i never said that. ❞ with the psychologist, she did not need to; it’s true, and they both know it. however, the embalmer is not going to throw salt into an open wound. ❝ i said we should focus on what we're doing. ❞ in lieu of that, she abruptly takes her ‘girlfriend’s’ face in both hands and pecks her on the lips.
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is misty rucker taking advantage of the scholar, or simply behaving with discernible chivalry ? surely, someone as petite as ivory grimes should not be expected to carry such a large stack of files with no assistance, the grasping of the detective's bicep only heightens the older woman's fine manners. . . or perhaps that facade is only believable to the untrained eye. the scholar chuckles lowly, mischief highlighted in ebony hues that sparkle with amusement. ❝ aren't you ? ❞ recollection from the christmas party comes in the form of the detectives rasped retort . . . i suppose i am. god, goosebumps speckle across pale skin over even the simplest memory. ❝ are you suddenly ashamed to be seen with me, detective ? ❞

thin, white fabric is all that separates misty rucker from overheated flesh, and five minutes is almost too long to wait ( when she has been waiting days to see ivory again ). her hand raises to undo the next button, exposing more of the cleavage that her arm is comfortably nestled in – though she thinks better of it while there is still time to surreptitiously redirect the movement. she points down the hallway. ❝ no. ❞ why bother with directions when the younger woman already knows where they're going? ❝ are you certain you want to hold onto my arm? the squad may think i'm…taking advantage of you again. ❞ within the pause, both her gaze and her voice drop – a subtle, sensual reference to the comment ivory made while tucked under the sergeant's desk.
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misty rucker does not apologize in the way that most people do. admittance of her own behaviour will not leave her lips, though she will offer unusual pieces of herself in retribution for hurt feelings. it does not always work, though ivory visibly softens at the attempt. although the scholar can not help but continue to look at her like that, gratitude flows into a once shattered countenance that threatened to crack further at her girlfriend's departure. pale hands wring in the doctor's lap, it will take a little more effort on misty's part to enliven a now crushed spirit. ❝ but you don't . . . you don't wanna kiss me. ❞

❝ no, ❞ misty rucker outright refuses, ❝ do not look at me like that. ❞ because it makes me feel guilty; because the last time you were vulnerable was when you were high on morphine, and i am no better with it now than i was then. the discomfort borders on disgust, but she tries to swallow the feeling and sits back down on the couch. her gaze lingers ( somewhat apologetically ) as she considers what to say next. it escapes her why any of this affects ivory. she can only surmise that the psychologist is not as forthcoming as originally thought. with her arms crossed, yet with a tone that desires to lighten the mood, she says, ❝ i believe i owe you several kisses. ❞
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to watch misty rucker walk away HURTS, though the doctor isn't certain why. for ivory to be here in the first place is but an inconvenience upon her own life, she gives for misty rucker without expecting anything in return. . . why ? the psychologist simply curls into herself on the couch, not bothering to hide the look of despair that overtakes porcelain features. when the older woman returns, that watery dark gaze finally lands upon her, ashamed and pathetic. ❝ o-okay. ❞
thinking of the money wasted on gas, of the time she could have spent doing something else – something alone – inflames the frustration that she feels. the notebook and accompanying pen are roughly thrown into her bag; then it is zipped, and slung over her shoulder. ❝ when you collect your thoughts, ❞ misty begins, tight-lipped, ❝ i will be ready to listen. ❞ it is the most restrained, most polite response that she has ever managed outside of work; what she really wants to do is to throw the notecards in the trash and deride ivory for not needing them. after all, that was what they were supposed to spend their evening working on.

at the precipice of the foyer, her desperation wins out. UGH. she returns to the living room, where, without rounding the couch, she says, ❝ would you prefer to practice…something else? ❞ kissing?
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ivory grimes has never had to prepare for anything. on the days that she does, her success is unmatched. the genius is capable of handling even the worst scenarios on a whim, though the already defeated brunette looks utterly wind-burned as her counterpart stands in irritation. dark hues shift down, towards her lap, large and sorrowful despite that she does not know how to express her apology. surely misty rucker would not expect so much from someone else, it irritates her as strongly as it hurts her. those large, doe eyes cannot bear to turn upon her partner in crime in acknowledgement of her own shortcomings. the genius has never been made to feel like a failure before. ❝ s-sorry. ❞

most people. since when is misty rucker like most people? and why is this – the one time she needs ivory to TALK – the one time she has nothing to say? it irks the necrophile, who put time and effort into preparing for this – whereas her partner-in-crime thought she could just show up and look pretty. or, dare she suggest, that the genius did not think about this at all. flipping the notebook shut, misty stands and SIGHS. ❝ we will revisit this another day, ivory, ❞ she grumbles, grabbing her bag off the ground. ❝ you clearly did not prepare. ❞
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