Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - Nine
Eight | Ten
Summary: The LASD couldn't sustain its reputation as an honest police officer if it tried hard. In that case, no one tried.
Word count: 9.695.
Warnings: Bad words, talks about corruption, talks about sexism and racism, mentions of oral sex, mention of drug crimes, violence and other things related, strip clubs, sex workers, use of weed and... did I say sexism?
Author’s Note: I think this got a lot more personal than I thought, so I'm sorry if anyone has family members within the LASD who aren't corrupt - this isn't about them. This chapter doesn't have much romance, I'll warn you right away, but it's an important progression in the main characters' relationship. Give it a try!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
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****
You didn't like your mother very much, but you definitely loved her. She was your mother, after all, and even though you knew you wouldn't be friends with her if you had that choice, you would love her like you love something because that's how it should be. You didn't think it was an obligation, and she didn't treat you badly, but there was always that feeling that because you were the first kid, she tested the options so much that she left you an arm's length away, and if it were different it would be weird.
Again, you understood. She was your mother.
When you had the whole context of the divorce, she always came with comments. She noticed your house, your clothes, your silence; she insisted that Theodore say something, that he apologize, and you had to be definitive for it to stop.
But she was your mother.
Emma didn't say things because she didn't like to commit, but you knew when she betrayed that direct opinion that your mother had about everything. It was like something mirrored, that instead of loud voices and cigarette smoke, you received a calculating coldness in sudden, discreet and passive comments. So you didn't confront her because, well, she wasn't your mother.
You knew you were on the edge since the situation with Ballard – so did she. And before all of that, there was the snickering, the ‘are you sure you are okay?’ with condescendent tone, the ‘maybe you should take some days off’ with a hint of a joke. You knew her and you knew each one of those mannerisms.
Isla's situation wouldn't have grow so much in you if it weren't for the daily stress of things, yes, but it was the comment that Emma made when she went to ask you about Gina that made you stop, look and make sure you had actually heard that.
“I mean, look what getting close to Nick did to you. You weren't like this when you were still married.”
You weren't even talking about that – you had taken days to redo the work on the report, you were barely sleeping and honestly nothing she was saying had reached your ear until that moment. For her, it was another comment that you would ignore, another small micro-aggression that would pass, so she continued typing on the computer and the weight of the air in her office seemed to fall solely on you.
“... I beg your pardon?”
She glanced at you and went back to the computer screen.
“Yeah, you know. Women tend to rely on male powerful figures when in lack of it. Freud said something about it, didn’t he?”
“Emma, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
That did catch her attention. She backed away, then saw your offended expression and actually turned to you, alert.
“I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” And even that sounded wrong.
“It's not just that, you're acting like an idiot to everyone here! Walsh treated me like an idiot and harassed me, which you glossed over and blamed on me. Gina was concise and conscientious about finding out about Isla and Nick because it would sink the Department, and you did nothing. What is that?”
Emma hesitated. With a lick of her lips, she probably calculated that being all about ‘I’m wrong, right?’ wouldn’t work, so she took her time.
“... I’m thinking of what’s best for you. Protecting your integrity for what it’s to come.”
“And what the fuck is to come? Tell me, Emma, what is it? I-” You took a deep breath. “Do you want to know? I don't want to know. I really don't want to. Whatever shit you or Magalon are warning me about in fucking code, I don't want to know.”
“What did Magalon tell you?”
“I feel like I'm talking to my ex… Have you heard what I said before?” You pressed, getting on your feet with a huff of frustration. “Make a fucking decision Emma, just… Make a fucking decision. And don't ever disrespect me like that again.”
****
“My husband was a member of the group.”
Isla had a calm voice despite the context in which she was inserted. There were no handcuffs on her wrists or a guard inside the room; everything was done very smoothly. Her lawyer was there, tho, and he was sending Zapata some glares while they talked. There was a palpable tension in the air, as if a black cloud of violence or distortion hung within that interrogation room.
Really, you shouldn't even be there, watching. Henderson was sitting to one side as he watched through the glass the conversation Zapata and Emma were having with the woman, and that should be enough for them. Even so, it was Emma who suggested that you participate indirectly, as if using a petty way to see if you were really immersed in the work like you said.
According to the file, Isla was of Albanian origin. The parents were immigrants and ran a small textile business in Coney Island, but they weren’t anything but a fast topic of conversation. The features of her face, such as the more rounded nose and the full face, were soft, even if her lips were dry. She was in a wheelchair, her arm had a bandage.
Looking at it that way, she didn't look so much like Debbie. Maybe their comparison was in the attitude: the two seemed equally taken by a feeling that hovered only in Nick. One that you didn't know what it was and that maybe nobody could put their finger on.
She spoke of everything. Kosovo, her relationship with a man named Oliver Clark, her marriage and children – Selim, with 5, and Dafina, with 9.
You just noticed that Nick entered the room when you smelled his cologne. Bad smell, as always, enough to break any serious moment with that fragrance. You couldn’t help but make a face, pinching your nostrils once and clearing your throat. He ignored you, of course. Benny appeared right behind him with two cups of coffee – you two shared a brief look.
“We have the search warrant,” He said to everyone in the room, eyeing the scene in front of you with a stern face. “I also got WPP.”
A little late for that.
“Anything important?” Took you time to understand that the question was directed to you. When the silence became too much, you turned to him and saw everyone staring.
“... Nothing I didn't already imagine. I'll have better luck when I have the equipment,” You leaned over the table, just a touch, and read the notes you’d taken. “Leica M6 35mm, Pentax K1000 and… Nikon 35 Ti. Analog. This Leica is a rarity, I think it was the one she used for the Long Beach homicides.”
“Couldn't it have been someone else?” Henderson asked.
“Is that just a stupid question or do you want to make sure we've tested all options?”
“Both. So?” Nick pressed, arms crossed and nothing but harshness on his tone.
You observed him for a beat, considered your chances there.
“... The Leica is from the beginning of the last century, like, the 30's to the 50's. At least this model she said she has. In addition to being rare, not everyone nowadays can handle it because the resources are basically mechanical. It would be an absurd coincidence, which is not quite the case.”
“We've dealt with coincidences before.”
“Well, you would know the truth better than anyone.”
O’Brien didn’t answer. You rolled your eyes, going back to the notes before giving Isla another look.
“How long has she been doing this?” The question was kind of thrown up in the air, as no one dared to answer. You glared at them, specifically at Nick, who huffed in annoyance before saying something.
“Two years.”
“And the case landed in your lap…” You said. “It seems that you really work with coincidences.”
Again, no answer. Feeling like you couldn't get from point A to B with anyone there, you jotted down some more information on paper and stretched your back, rolling your shoulders.
“It will be manual stuff then. They’ll have to look at each negative.”
“If it can be done then I don't see a problem.”
“It's a good opportunity to tell me anything else I don't already know,” You conceded, voice contained to prevent any progression there. It was like swallowing a fucking lamp.
Everyone was quiet when they heard Isla speak again, attentive as they watched every detail of the story that should no longer be news to Nick's ears. You were so concentrated that the noises of chairs dragging on the floor didn't even call your attention. Someone said something, the door opened and closed, and suddenly there was a cup of coffee right next to you.
Benny tapped the lid twice.
“Decaf,” He mouthed discreetly before retrieving his proximity and leaving the room.
You and Henderson shared a glance, but he didn’t say a thing. You two were busy anyway.
****
Benny didn't have a very organized routine, but he could count how many times he thought about you after that shitty lunch: two.
1. That coffee wasn't for you, but he thought of you when he noticed that the Starbucks server had made the wrong order. It was kind of spontaneous. Suddenly you were there, at the front of his mind, like you were hovering around and ready to just emerge. He put it there, left the cup as if saying ‘you can have it if you want, but if you don’t it’s fine’. No one brought the subject up.
2. Nick had gone to the store to meet an informant and someone, probably Connors, saw a familiar figure at the register when they entered. Benny knew it was Murph who commented, but he saw Zapata turn his head to look at the guy.
“Do you know who he is?”
“Who?” Benny frowned, unaware of the commotion. He turned his head, saw the dude standing there staring at his phone – like a normal person.
“This is Theodore Park, our trouble girl's ex.”
There was only one person Connors called ‘trouble girl' and it wasn't usually the kind of comment that came from beyond the grave. However he recognized the guy, whether it was a run-in at office parties that Benny barely attended or some private investigation that bordered on a stalker personality from Murph’s part, it seemed to be true. When Magalon looked back again, Theodore Park was gone.
The second time, then, he discovered who your ex-husband was while listening to what seemed like irrelevant information to the investigation. In the midst of Nick's reticence and failures, Theodore Park was the object of his interest.
He was tall compared to the 5'7 that Benny was. Maybe 6'2, compared to O'Brien. There were some university articles about him (three paragraphs at Berkeley, two large PDFs at CSULB that he didn't read, and good references at Caltech) and he seemed successful with an information systems company or something. Benny could never speak properly about these things because he was never interested; as long as he had a phone that worked, he knew how to use the most intuitive social media and that was it. But not Theodore, no. The guy was a successful man in that aspect, indeed. A rich guy on the way. Without much effort, Benny would see this dude doing TED Talks and making Forbes in a few years. Which had nothing to do with him, or what seemed like your type of guy. If Theodore was on one side of the spectrum, Benny was on the other in every way.
Still, Magalon didn't do much with this information. There wasn't much he could do with it anyway.
It was only later – days later – when they had agreed to go to a 'club' to 'decompress', that he found himself thinking about you for the third time.
Earlier that day, he saw you talking to Lennon over what seemed like conventional pleasantries between friends. You were wearing jeans, both hands in your back pockets as you paid attention to something that was being said. Your usual lab coat was gone, probably because Benny could clearly see that your shirt was tighter, had a wider bust and the position of your arms gave a subtle view of your breasts. Nothing indiscreet, because you weren't indiscreet. That outfit, however, made Benny have a sudden indiscreet thought, and it stayed in his head all day.
He hadn't looked for you anymore – he hadn't had the chance to do that. Things escalated and suddenly there he was talking about how similar he was to Nick, pushing you away with a passive behavior that clearly pissed you off. You didn't even react, which he understood as full acceptance of the fact that he was an asshole, as if that was the one thing that Benny and a technology nerd like Theodore had in common: being a scoundrel. You treated him as always, even though what had already happened between you should have been enough for that 'always' to change.
It was sad. He really was starting to like what you two started to have.
The girl standing next to him was called Lindsay. She sat down, started a conversation; they talked very little. Lindsay was wasted, not even bothering to clean the traces of cocaine from her top lip and nose or the way her eyes were dark. Benny asked if she wanted to go home and another friend, named Tracy (or Tara), who was visibly lucid, said it was a good idea. He paid for the taxi, made sure they got into the car safely, and discreetly showed the driver his badge. Like any other night.
He watched the taxi disappear down the street, then, on the other side, the movement of cars on that side of the city. It was late summer and the breeze of the change of season was a sure sign of the arrival of autumn, so he felt the wind hit his face.
Benny didn't go back up to the hotel room with the guys. He handed the parking pass to the usual guy, got in the car and headed home.
No, not like any other night. That time, Benny felt another wave of what someone once said was a ‘midlife crisis’.
****
You weren't a fan of bathtubs. Well, you had one, but it was that kind of thing that was borrowed into your life, shoved down your throat because it wasn't so bad after all. Just like the coffee table you had before. And the kitchen window you always hated. And the kind of lamp that lasted so little but, look, it was chic. So like all things, which seemed to be the biggest provocation that accompanied a 'gift' from a big son of a bitch, or a reminder of how there was a sense of ease in making your life miserable, you enjoyed it.
Something like that.
You had plans to get rid of each of these things soon, because all in all, the financial part of your life was also complicated. A visit to the bank, a mortgage proposal, expenses for the large yard and the last remnants of your student fund. You looked through apartment websites for sale and just that idea left you incredibly depressed because, on top of everything else, you were a crybaby who lost the comfort of a husband who paid most of the household bills. And not to mention the job, because… damn, the fucking job. It had been days since you closed your eyes and saw Nick, Isla, Emma, Ballard, Mathias; what kind of fucking burnout was that?
So that night, when your heels were swollen and your back was sore, you allowed yourself a few minutes of privilege. Bath salts, then the heat of refreshing water and, among other things you haven't done in a long time, you felt a little sorry for yourself, felt like Emma did you so fucking wrong and you needed to be put in a victim’s place for a while.
Connors had posted a photo with the guys on Instagram – you saw it by chance, one hand resting your head on the edge of the bathtub and the other scrolling through your phone. ‘bday party w/ the fella 🔥🔥🔥’, with Benny below his arm in what looked like a half drunk pose, in what also looked like a strip club in the background. You stared at it for a moment. Then another. Then another. There were easy smiles, joyfulness, even happiness; like it was just a standard day, as if the world was okay as soon as the first beer landed on their tables.
There was never a question with them, a doubt. It was as if, arbitrarily, the main characteristic of a cop wasn’t useful for them to become the ideal professionals that everyone thought they were. There is no need for moral duty, responsibility and care, as proof that the world, in itself, was also not moral, responsible and careful.
That was it. It was this pain, this itch, that disturbed you, because you knew that no questions were directed at Theodore when things ended. He, above the law, with money in his pocket and a successful career ahead of him, didn’t receive any dirty looks for having cheated on his own wife, who in turn would, in fact, receive condescending comments, pats on the shoulder of comfort and an unfair response from a boss, who attributed your problems to the great evil of having lost an idiot husband. That was what you always hated the most.
Before you could put down the device, the screen changed theme: Benny was calling. It wasn't a text, it was a call.
You hesitated before answering.
“... Yes?”
“Hey,” The other end of the line was clear, even if you presumed he was still in the club with the guys. “You busy?”
“Mm-hm,” You frowned. “Something happened?”
“No.”
“... Ah.”
“Just wanted to check on you. You probably think that I’m a jerk right now.”
You lifted your torso and sat in the bathtub, more confused than you expected. For a beat you didn’t say anything.
“You do.”
“No! No, I… I don’t think… anything. Why do you think that?” But he didn’t need to answer because you knew. “If that’s because we’re not doing anything, there’s no hard feelings. We’re just having fun, right?”
Benny sighed.
“Yeah, we were.”
“So you don’t need to explain yourself.”
And before you could stop yourself, you added something else that made your eyes close in regret.
“Things are kinda crazy right now.”
You didn't want to go back to the atmosphere of that lunch. It wasn't your fault or his, but it was as if there was an external interference, a weight of your different ideals, even if they weren't in question at that moment. That's why you had convinced yourself to give it a chance, to go out with him in the first place: because it wasn't work. And suddenly you were stupid and brought it up as soon as he got in touch after so long.
“How’s Gina?” He decided to ask, which made you squirm in discomfort.
“She’s fine,” You conceded. “Nick?”
“He’s good.”
Another pause.
“... Well, I’m certain that you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t, you’re right.”
“Yeah,” You let out a low embarrassed giggle, biting your bottom lip. “Neither do I.”
Another pause. You couldn’t hear a thing for the other side and, for a long stretched moment, it felt like you two were measuring each other’s breaths.
“I didn't know it was Connors' birthday,” Which worked. Benny sighed in defeat, but it was better to talk about Murph’s ideas of parties than anything else.
That was how fucked up the whole situation was.
“We kinda did something. He always makes a big deal of that stuff.”
“You don’t?”
“Nah, I’m old. Pushing closer to my 50s already. Whoever said middle age life for men it’s their peak, but that’s bullshit.”
“If you were Telly Savalas, perhaps,” The teasing didn’t go unnoticed by him, who scoffed a laugh. It made you smile too. “So your party ended early.”
“Couldn’t stay long there. My sister made up dinner because one of my nieces is going to college. Right now I’m sleeping in my old bathroom at my mom’s house.”
“What, Benny Magalon still fits in his childhood bed?”
“You know me enough to know how well I fit.”
Deep down, you realized that he didn't say that in a charming way to induce you into some kind of phone sex or something like that. He sounded a little indifferent, actually, and even lazy, as if that was what he should tell you because of the circumstances. You felt a certain relief when you noticed the tone in his voice, because you didn't feel up to it that day.
He moved on the other side, just like you.
“Are you gonna ask what I am wearing?” You teased with a small smile.
“You’re naked. I heard the sound of water, so you’re in a bathtub.”
“Aren’t you a smart detective.”
“Now who’s the one being a charmer,” He said.
“If I was, I would ask what you’re wearing.”
“I’m wearing sleep shorts.”
“Mm.”
“With no underwear.”
“Ooh, how sexy.”
“Right.”
You two shared a quiet, peaceful laugh. You leaned back in the bathtub and rested your head on the edge of it, staring at the ceiling as you heard him moving again on the other side.
There was a hint of subtext, as if you wanted to say something and so did he, but no one knew how because it wasn't something as casual as a sexual joke or small talk. He called, after all, and if this was a failed attempt to 'relax', he had already made it clear that he wasn't very interested either. What was it, anyway? Should you bring up the subject of Isla? Should you two keep talking about this?
“Enjoy that bathtub for me,” Like a goodbye, voice and mind probably in another place.
“I hate this fucking thing.”
“Enjoy it anyway. God knows it can give us a break. We all need it.”
“Yeah… Tell Connors I said happy birthday.”
“Will not.”
You rolled your eyes and scoffed.
“Good night, Benny.”
“Good night, gatita.”
You abandoned the phone at the closed toilet seat as soon as the line was off, but you kept looking at the device for a while, as if waiting for something to happen or just expecting that sensation of unsaid things to go away. It shouldn’t hit you this hard – shouldn’t make you feel like things were simply falling apart.
You just wanted to be sure for once that things wouldn’t be so difficult all the time.
****
The first sip of coffee was distracted. When the taste hit your tongue, you immediately grimaced and threw the drink back into the cup, staring at the totally undrinkable dark thing.
Great. No good coffee as well.
You wiped the corners of your mouth with your fingers and left the cup on the table, a little unsure whether you should throw it away or not. After little consideration, you just threw it in the trash can, massaging your eyes with the heels of your hands before taking a long breath.
The break room was naturally busy in the morning, with people on double shifts and those who were arriving, like you, in and out of the tiredness of the end of the day with the beginning of another. Everyone was chatting amongst themselves, exchanging details about cases they were working on or the new bar that had opened nearby, so it was a bit strange that as soon as you rolled your shoulders to ease the tension, everyone turned their attention to a Lennon out of breath who entered the room with an urgent voice.
“Did you know?” That's all he said, then turning on the TV and stopping in the middle of the tables to watch it. You, who were further in front and close to the coffee machine, had to lift your head a little more to understand what was happening.
“Recognized for the successful work carried out on the Merrimen case, Los Angeles County Major Crimes, coincidentally on the day of the closure of one of the most intense operations carried out in the city and credited in its name, hands over the most recent drug trafficking case to the Drug Enforcement Administration, the DEA…”
You could hear some gasps from your colleagues, murmurs and then shushings, so that they remained quiet and could listen carefully to what was there as if it wasn't obvious. After that, you just stared at the screen in disbelief, your brow furrowed and your hands outstretched at your sides. When they cut to the scene of the press conference in the building's press room, which appeared to have taken place not long before you arrived, you could only see Nick standing next to the sheriff, Walsh's team, and Mathias himself at the lectern making the announcement.
Mathias's voice was a background sound, almost like an irritating noise in the silence of that room that seemed palpable. No commotion, no direct press releases, just a 'peaceful transition' (Walsh's words) to 'a more prepared and complete team' (also Walsh’s words), which indirectly could mean more than cutting spending by the County government but rather a nudge coward of someone who didn't have the balls to chest someone basically… male.
You felt a little bad about that.
But, heavens, everyone thought that. And when Gina, of all those present, said mid Walsh's phony speech right after he highlighted the inefficiency of the forensic team (a part you only realized when he used the terms 'difficulty communicating with experts' and 'inadequacy expert with the magnitude of the case'), you blinked and saw her standing for herself, arms crossed and ready to fight.
“Nick does that fucking shit and we get the blame,” She said to the TV.
Then you got hit by a huge wave of realization. Of Emma, of Benny, of the ‘codes’ they were using to talk with you, the alerts. You didn't imagine this had been shared with Gina, or with anyone else, but it sounded so premeditated that you felt a shiver of distrust.
No one there got caught up in it because they didn't have time, but everyone recognized the mechanisms and adapted to them. Neither you nor Gina whined much when the sheriff organized annual running competitions and didn't stay to reward the winning women; from what little you knew of Henderson, you didn't see him complaining, for example, about the fact that Nick always put him in for questioning black suspects, tapping him twice on the shoulder and saying 'you know what to do', but heavy in a condescending tone. Hell, you always saw the same ridiculous type of episode happening with Lennon as well.
Taken back to reality by the commotion bubbling between your colleagues, you noticed Emma standing in the doorway as if she had sneakily appeared to observe the reactions and the two of you exchanged very tense silent looks. She didn’t look defeated, but averted your gaze as soon as it became just a staring contest.
You turned to the TV – to the takes of Nick and the guys during the Merrimen case, then at their faces during the press conference.
Huh.
****
The atmosphere was burial-like, to say the least. You had spent the day in the lab, like a forced routine return, and it was as if no one had the balls to open their mouth and speak verbally about the subject. There were official emails from the DEA requesting evidence that had already been collected, reminders from Emma about other cases you were working on in parallel, one thing or another from Ballard (who didn't know how to create an email conversation and ended up answering each of your responses with a new email). There was a sepulchral silence from Major Crimes, but not the kind that left them untainted in the precinct's dome of recognition and social hierarchy – it was a shameful silence.
If you could bet on a collective concern, perhaps everyone was tense at the idea of having been publicly exposed as incompetent, and if even the best team of detectives in the county had failed, there was no certainty of the stability of the Department's resources. This would not only make the LASD incompetent (or corrupt), but also incomplete.
You have a new text! You looked at the phone screen lazily, already expecting anything else, but when you saw who it really was, you couldn’t help but feel reticent and, at best, surprised.
****
“Is this your bat cave or something?”
The door to the building's terrace always got stuck, but that was just one of the old or poorly working things in that place. Your comment was more to break the ice, to kill that sour mood after you stumbled to close the thing. You took a few steps closer to O'Brien and the others, the five of them sitting around in concrete boxes.
“Was that supposed to be funny?” Zapata asked with a scowl, to which made you raise your eyebrows at the animosity.
“I think so, but if you're offended I think I'm on the right track.”
“You really are a bitch.”
“Tony-” Benny intervened.
“Yo, there’s no need to-” Connors said.
“Yeah, Zapata, watch your fucking mouth,” Biting back wasn’t exactly the best idea, because you knew the spirits were agitated, but it was obvious that the context didn’t allow for that type of behavior against you. Everyone there knew that that reaction was the remnant of misdirected anger.
You two shared a silent glare. Tony considered your face for a moment and you did the same; when Magalon pushed him to avert the attention, Zapata waved him off and walked away – you and Benny shared a small glance, one he soon ended to look at Nick, who watched the scene while lighting a cigarette.
“We done?” He asked.
“Don’t know, Nick, are we?” You sighed in defeat, sitting on a concrete support and looking anywhere but him. “You said it was important.”
“It is.”
“Is it about the case?”
“He used Isla. We think it had some internal interference.”
And so, being a somewhat literate person in the context of dealing with cops, you could see the pattern and tone of the conversation that had just begun: it was almost an interrogation. Everyone there, kind of around him, looking for the person who would go to the guillotine. It took a while, between the silence that followed, the way everyone (except Benny) was staring at you and Zapata's reaction so spontaneously explosive, but when you lifted your head and looked at that scene, connecting the dots, you frowned and felt truly offended.
“Wow.”
“We need to be sure.”
“And it would be me for… what, exactly?” He didn’t answer, which made you scoff and giggle in disbelief. “Look, I know my friend wouldn't do that, but as any normal person you could ask Gina that, right?”
“We did,” Henderson said. “We investigated and there was nothing.”
“That means you investigated me as well?”
You felt a pang of frustration greater than the outrage you were feeling. And despite the secret behind you and Benny, who shook his head, it was on him that you closed your eyes for a moment before looking back at Nick, who had his eyes downcast, scratching at the ground while blowing smoke from his mouth.
“You are all a bunch of fuckers.”
“You reacted to Isla,” O’Brien argued with a monotonous tone. “And you said I would be fucked if I messed with you again.”
“Because I’m a human being, Nick, the fuck.”
No one said a word. There was this soft breeze flowing around, given the time of the year and the area where you were, one that you noticed that made their hairs flow and you shiver a little. If you paid close attention, you would see frustration and rage and that regular disappointment of a kid when they have lost a toy they like or are denied a candy. The loss, whatever it was, hurt for them but not for professional reasons but for honor. A very uncompensated and arbitrary honor, but an honor nonetheless. And it was always easier to blame someone else. You knew it was easy to make a calculation that would work for you because there would always be the feeling that you were impulsive, stubborn, even cruel – because men hurt you, because you still resent things in your personal life.
“I think it's common sense that almost no one here likes you very much,” You said in a low tone. “And we can agree that ethics and professionalism aren’t exactly the main pillars of what you do.”
Nobody said anything, because you were right. It was actually impressive that you managed to maintain a calm, almost soothing tone right after being basically accused of something so serious. Deep down, you felt that, at least, Nick didn't put much faith in this hypothesis, that this was a demonstration of power in front of others because his hands were tied and this was truly new to him.
And you didn't ask what the plan was, what they were going to do next. You didn't care about that. No one needed to cry because they lost the case, it was obvious that it wasn't the first time this had happened – it certainly wasn't the last either.
Nick puffed some smoke out of his chest, eyeing you for a moment. Then, with a ‘tsk’, he huffed and crouched down, elbows resting on his eyes, making eye contact.
“Someone reported the investigation to the Embassy. Walsh had us up against the wall as soon as you mentioned the fucking case in Long Beach because the bastard found out about her and me. I was exposed. I'm testing my options here and one of them includes the fact that you curiously knew that they were the same specifications in both cases,” He said. “Gina just found that out and spit to the whole fucking world to know. She’s not that dumb to risk herself to do so.”
“Yeah, but I am, because apparently it didn't occur to you that I was just good at my damn job. The fact that I knew about the pics was just a question of someone giving me a fucking clue?” You raised your eyebrows. “I got my degree and my master's at the same time, you son of a bitch. I don't need to suck anyone's balls to know how to do my job.”
You two looked at each other. Nick was clenching his jaw, holding words in his mouth and turning them around enough so they could come back in a dry swallow. When he looked away first, blinking a few times, it was the first time you really saw genuine frustration, a moment of weakness that maybe, one day, Debbie had seen, or that the co-workers who were around him at the moment also witnessed in a rare way.
Your brow was furrowed and you were truly confused and mad by this gap. Looking around, above O'Brien's head, you saw Zapata looking at the city below him with an annoyed look, his back to the two of you; Murph kept his hands in his hoodie pockets, Henderson had his arms crossed. Benny watched you, then looked at the ground, shaking his head.
No, this wasn't about you, nor was it your fault – of course it wasn’t. In that context, you were just a part of the realization of something you hadn't touched until you saw every defeated feature on that rooftop.
“... Are you sure?” You asked, blinking a few times with a shaky voice.
Nick shook his head.
“And you expect me to do something about it?”
“No,” He said with a firm tone, getting up on his feet. “No one here is sure. I figured you knew something since-”
“Since you thought I had something to do with it, yeah, I noticed,” It was directed to Tony, who just tsked and averted his gaze again.
When everyone kept quiet, not daring to admit their mistake or even apologize, you were the one getting up, still not sure how to react and uncertain of how to end that conversation.
“Never do that to me again, don’t-” You collected your voice, clearing your throat. “I never considered myself such a good person, but next to you I'm a fucking saint. I put up with a lot of shit from Walsh and Emma because of you, so shut the hell up before you dare think I'd change sides. If there is any side to this shit.”
“I needed to be sure.”
“I hope you had all the answers you needed,” There was harshness in your tone, almost a fury. And surprisingly, he didn’t answer that equally. “And yeah, I’ll be honest, okay? You were a coward. I don’t like you. Go eat shit.”
“It’s easy to say that after you put Benny in the middle of whatever it is you have with Walsh.”
“Listen now-”
“Excuse me?” You frowned, not even letting Magalon finish the interruption he was doing while getting closer. “I didn't ask anyone here to defend me! If this fucking case went wrong, try to consider your incompetence or the fact that no one asked you to fuck a suspect.”
When he kept quiet again, you scoffed, shaking your head.
“It’s so easy, isn’t it? Walk around like you rule every place, do whatever the fuck you want, put the blame on everyone to feel better… Gina was right. You’re just like Walsh. Just like him.”
You nodded.
“You always had all the tricks in hand and let a widowed single mother almost get killed by a gang. Curious of you to think anyone is responsible but you.”
Turning your back, you walked away from him, already opening the door to leave the rooftop. Before you could, though, you eyed him one more time.
“Whatever your plan is, when and if they ask me, I'll be sincere. About you and about her. Because I can do that.”
“You would never say anything against Emma.”
The mention of her name, like an answer to your question, made you flex your fingers in anger.
“... And I don't blame you for not believing that. It’s clear that it's been a while since you've been able to understand honesty.”
****
“You called her a bitch.”
Hearing Benny's voice break the silence was strange, so everyone was confused before understanding what he was saying. When they did, he saw Zapata shift uncomfortably on the couch, looking at the coffee table.
“I didn't think straight at the moment.”
“It seems like no one here has done that.”
“You want to say something?” Nick pressed with a rough tone, as if ready to snap at the detective right away. Benny measured him, shrugged.
“I told you it was a bad idea. With Isla and with her.”
“We needed to get around it all, test possibilities. This shit is going to get ugly soon.”
“And you pushed away one of the few people who could keep us from getting screwed over too.”
When they exchanged glances after Benny's response, there was a silent consensus that the disagreements were slowly getting bigger, something that had been surrounding the group long before you showed up or the case.
Everyone continued smoking in silence and the tense atmosphere didn’t dissipate. Things weren't going well.
****
You knew what you were getting into when you started your career there – you always did. Your parents looked at you the wrong way at first, Theodore always treated it as a temporary thing, and your friends always told you that a lab somewhere was great, or a university could be perfect for anyone who wanted to invest in the academic field, or a friend's company in private sector needed a professional who had the same qualifications as you.
Still, you resisted the comments in the same way that someone resists some kind of temptation: you laughed, you chatted away and no one brought it up again. You didn't consider those things because you liked the stability that a government job gave you, and people just couldn't understand that.
It was the first time you really considered it. You have recapitulated occasions, measured the possibilities; maybe LASD was no longer the most stable place in the world to be, nor the safest.
The marijuana stash (that's what your brother called it) was in the drawer next to the bed. When you were with Theodore, he also used it, although he didn't really like it because he had headaches, so it was a common thing in the house. You were on your third or fourth drink, eyeing the files and releasing smoke into the air. There was no music, just the low light in the room and the brightness of Kojak's aquarium, so sometimes you needed to squint to see small letters of your own handwriting.
You revisited the case, reviewed your notes and copies of the evidence. Whether it was the effect of the marijuana drink, or your paranoid conscience, you wanted to know if at any point you missed something that indicated a failure in your judgment, if Nick was right or if you ended up taking the whole case down with Isla.
Someone had been trying to call for half an hour, but you didn't answer –it must have been someone from work, because if it had been a family member they would already be knocking on the door. You didn't even look in the direction of the phone; the vibrations started to bother you but not distract you.
Before you could put the cigarette back in your mouth, someone knocked on the door. The doorbell had stopped working a while ago and that was one of the things that had to be fixed before you could sell that fucking house.
“Who’s it?” You asked in a high voice, not moving from your spot.
No one answered. That made you frown, then finally snap your eyes in the door’s direction. You waited. Seconds later, your phone had gone off.
“... Hello?”
“It’s me. Lemme in?”
Everything was screaming for you to say no, to hang up and leave him waiting outside until he gave up and disappeared. It would be very convenient for him to be there, ready to convince you of something, to be more malleable; it made sense. He could still be trying to take something out of you, as far as you knew. Still, you were a little out of orbit from the weed, slightly sluggish and relaxed, so you calmly got up, abandoned the files where they were spread on the coffee table and walked over, opening it but not waiting too long to see him enter before turning around again.
You took slow steps into the room. There was the sound of the door closing, then being locked, and then his footsteps coming behind, but keeping his distance.
“Weed?” He asked.
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“I could,” That answer made you snort. “But it’s Cali. And you’re literally my teenage wet dream right now, so I can let it pass.”
Teasing or not, you looked at yourself and noticed your clothes (or lack thereof): panties, a long t-shirt. When you turned to him, standing in the middle of the room, Benny was staring at your legs, but he wasn't smiling.
“You're like a broken record, you know that?” You raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips. “All you say is that I'm in your dreams. This is cheesy as fuck.”
“You didn't complain about that when you were riding me.”
“Oh, so this is my fault?”
“Well, you’re being quite hypocritical.”
“Fuck off.”
“Stop it.”
“What do you want?”
“You didn't answer my calls.”
“That doesn't answer my question, so I guess we're even.”
He was tense, stressed. You could tell. Benny wouldn't talk to you like that if he wasn't angry about something, maybe even frustrated because you weren't 'clear-headed' to talk at all.
For a few seconds, he considered you while licking his lips, as if the gears were turning in his head. Yours was also moving, but more gradually, slowly, which left you a little unresponsive when you saw him take off his jacket.
“This must be good, you didn't even hear me.”
“Mm?” You blinked, taking in the sight of his forearms while he lifted his shirt sleeves. That made him crack a giggle.
“Can I have some?”
Oh. Oh. The weed. He was already walking closer to the coffee table to grab the joint between two fingers, eyes swiping over the papers, so you watched in awe as he put the cig on his lips and took a long drag, eyeing the burning tip with curiosity. Benny hummed and nodded while puffing the smoke.
“Shit’s really good. How did you get it?”
“... My brother,” And before he could take another drag, you picked the joint from his hands. “Smoke, hold and pass. That's the rule.”
“Are we in college or somethin’?”
“Shut up and sit down.”
That's what you two did – him on the couch, you on the carpet in front of him. You took another drag, handed over the cigarette and he brushed his hands on your shoulders before grunting, probably leaning back on the cushions.
****
It was a very silent few minutes, almost making you forget that Benny was there. When the effect of marijuana hit him, he was already lying on the sofa, without his shoes or his top shirt, limiting himself to showing his arms in a white tank top. This gave you a period of lucidity, very brief, and soon there was no more marijuana to smoke, despite the joint not being finished.
All your caution was being thrown out the window, you knew, but it wasn't like it was going to make any difference.
“Hey,” You called him in a low tone.
“Mm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
Benny stayed quiet for a moment or two, as if gathering his thoughts, then you listened to him squirming on the couch, getting on his side to look at you even if you still had your back at him. Sensing that he was waiting for you to give him the same attention, you adjusted yourself and stared at him.
“Shoot it.”
“What happened with Walsh wasn’t on purpose.”
Silence. For a beat, you even thought that he didn’t hear you, given the fact he was already zoning out a little. You started to feel embarrassed, weird. Well, you were high, which could lead to a version of you who would babble about a lot of nonsense and shit, but that was something that came from your lucid mind, probably a thing you wouldn’t say so softly without the weed.
“It wasn’t a question,” He teased in a calm voice, smiling at you.
“... I know,” You smiled back, but it turned into a bunch of stupid giggling.
It cooled down soon.
“I didn’t see it this way, you know. Walsh is a stupid motherfucker,” He said after a while.
“Jackass.”
“Dickhead.”
“Yeah… His head looks like a dick. An ugly one.”
“And there’s any pretty dicks somewhere?”
“Just as there’s pretty pussies.”
“Have you ever seen others?”
You looked at each other, a small smile playing on your lips. When realization started to slowly creep on him, he opened his mouth in shock.
“It was in college-”
“Always in college,” He rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot.
“I had this friend, Kennedy. We were roommates, I was single at the time, you know… It happened. But now we’re just good friends.”
“Mm.”
“I’m serious!” You laughed.
“So you’re telling me that if this Kennedy comes up here tonight, ask to go down on you or whatever, you would say no?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Fuck, I would. I’m not cold blooded, gatita.”
A series of laughs filled the living room again.
“We’re going out of the question here, yeah? Having a serious conversation.”
“You were the one talking about dicks here!”
“Because you called Walsh a dickhead!”
“Okay,” He sighed, adjusting his body to lean over his arm and have a better look at you. Little by little, Benny started to frown, as if thinking hard on something. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t a beautiful sight.
“So?”
“I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” His voice was soft, calm, even if a little concerned. “Plus, you had just signed a divorce and Walsh was there talking about it, humiliating you. That wasn't right.”
You considered his words calmly, blinking heavily but still paying attention.
“Nick wasn’t in his right mind when he said that.”
“You think?”
“Mm-hm. You shouldn’t worry about it,” And you knew he was talking about the files spread behind you, so you felt a wave of embarrassment.
“...You’re not just saying that, are you?” The question was serious, probably the first serious thing you said since he came to your house out of nowhere.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re with them. Like… you know. With them.”
Benny nodded, taking in your words carefully.
“Fair enough.”
But he didn’t push the topic, nor tried to apologize or something. He let you have your doubts, probably because he himself couldn’t help but agree that maybe, if it was the other way around, there would be uncertainty on his part as well. You sighed, then, turning your eyes to the carpet and poking it every now and then, as if looking for something on it with false concentration.
“Hey.”
“Mm?”
“Come here.”
“What?”
“‘Wanna feel you,” He almost whined, sitting up and pulling you by the fabric of your shirt.
“That’s why you came? To feel me?”
“Are you fucking mocking me, woman?”
“I am,” You got on your knees carefully, smirking at him lazily. “Looked like you just waited for the best opportunity to come back here and fuck me.”
“But I don’t wanna fuck you, I wanna feel you.”
“What’s the difference?”
The position you stayed couldn’t be more convenient: him, starting to sit as well, legs spread while you rose on your knees, ready to get up. It gave him some time to stare at you with a lazy grin.
“Saying I wanna fuck would imply that I just came here for it,” He explained. “Feeling you could lead to sex, but with some warm up.”
“All the times we had sex had some warm up,” You argued, hands gripping his thighs lightly.
“And it was so good, wasn’t it?” Benny asked when you rose just a little to get closer to his face.
You observed his face for a moment before raising up to peck his lips lightly. When he just sighed, melting into it, you smiled and gave him another kiss, this time a little longer, wetter – enough to, when you part ways, it made a muah. The fabric of your shirt was worn out, old enough to make it more thin and give you a better feel when you gently brushed your chest on his. It made you sigh against his lips, doing it again when he groaned a little, unable to move a muscle but reacting in slow breaths.
Both of you, silly high adults, brushing your noses, kissing soundly and ready to fuck each other’s brains out as if the world wasn’t basically on fire.
“I didn’t come here for this, tho.”
This made you move your face, just a little, and the look on your eyes scrunched up in confusion. It felt like a spontaneous burst of lucidity, almost like a punch, and when he turned his face to the side, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, you felt brutally rejected. You moved your hands away from his legs. Suddenly, the carpet was hurting your knees and you stood up, muttering a 'sorry' as you sat on the edge of the sofa, a little away from him.
“Did you come to defend Nick or something?”
“This has nothing to do with Nick.”
“So why are you here? To tease about us fuck and not doing a thing about it?”
He considered your face for a moment, still taking in the effects of the weed – even if you both started to feel more buzzed then properly high.
“You don't want to go to war with him.”
“Oh,” You raised your eyebrows, scoffing a sarcastic giggle. “So you came to be a gentleman and defend me from the evils of disagreeing with Nicholas O'Brien? I thought you made it clear that you didn't have much chivalry in your personality.”
“I don’t.”
“Mm.”
“But that has nothing to do with chivalry. You’re not being rational.”
“About…?”
Benny sighed.
“We both know it was Emma.”
“That shit again…” You groaned, getting up brusquely from your seat and wobbling a little before starting to walk away to the kitchen.
“What happened was-”
“A mistake. A fucking mistake.”
When you turned, Benny was up too, standing a few feet closer to the kitchen entrance with his arms hanging loosely on his sides. The lack of answer made you shake your head, grabbing a glass bottle of water from the fridge and drinking a good amount.
That made everything silent. With both hands on the kitchen’s sink, you closed your eyes and collected your thoughts.
“I'm not naive to think she couldn't have been involved in this, but I'm not naive or stupid to absolve Nick of the shit he should be responsible for,” You glared at him, noticing his dry lips, the way he just blinked at you with a stern expression. With a tsk, you caught hold of a cup in the sink for him and poured some water in it, not daring to give, but letting it rest closer.
He came, grabbed the cup.
You could feel the effects of the marijuana, which were already weaker before, start to leave your system. You were sick, you made a face, but you swallowed your discomfort with more water.
“I'm not Isla.”
It slipped out of your mouth like a slim and unstable thought, one that made him just nod, sipping on the water calmly while leaning on the sink beside you, eyeing the other side of the room.
“Didn’t think you were.”
“No?”
“Nn-nn.”
“So you didn’t investigate me?”
You knew you had him cornered the moment you said it, but Benny didn't show any anger. He stayed quiet, sipped the rest of the water and stood in front of you, face to face, in such a firm way that you almost backed away if you weren't so irritated.
“If I were as much of a son of a bitch as you think I am, I would have let you finish what you started on that couch,” That made you avert your gaze, but he gently pushed your chin, bringing you to eye his face again. “I'm not Nick. Despite my inclinations, I didn’t ask you out in the first place to investigate you.”
“Right, so it was another thing you said was a bad idea to Nick?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Bullshit,” You scoffed, taking a step back. “So you’re that good of a person to get along with Nick’s shit and still be his moral compass? Gimme a break, Benny, I’m not that naive.”
Before he could answer, you kept going.
“She's just a bargaining chip. She always was. And despite our visibly very different lives, I know what it's like to be used and then discarded as if you’re nothing, as if every promise was nothing more than a lie to achieve something very personal, something that never had to do with you,” You said. “I don't want you to come here and expect me to point fingers or accuse people. If it was Emma, if it was Walsh, it doesn't make any difference if the person primarily responsible for this doesn't take the real blame.”
“You know the world isn’t a fairytale, don't you?”
“I do! And Isla knows it too, better than anyone! This has nothing to do with an imaginary, but with commitment! When was the last time Nick used his badge for anything other than taking it out of his pocket while a whore gave him a blowjob?”
Nothing. Just silence. For a long, perceptive, heavy moment: silence.
Benny shook his head in disbelief.
“Emma received a letter of recommendation from the DEA forensic department,” He said in a low tone, catching you completely by surprise. That felt like a test, the way he observed your reaction with care, looking for an answer. When he found it, Benny nodded. “That's why I came here.”
“... What? I don’t understand.”
“I can't remember the last time I had five minutes of conversation with someone who had nothing to do with this shit. It takes me time to believe just as much as it does to you to know I tried to give him some sense, so if I’m here it's because I know you’re not involved and you need to know there’s people around you doing shit.”
You could barely process the information, what that implied, because you had every right to disbelieve and have your doubts. There was a suspicious look on your face, he knew that because you didn't hide it, but he didn't take offense this time.
“Just stay away. Things are going to get fucked up,” He was definitive. “God knows I’ll have to be away as well.”
****
No pressure tags:
@cheesybadgers
@thesandbeneathmytoes
@nerdyreaderpapi
@thoroughlymodernminutia
@mysoulisasunflower
@seaweeden
@eclecticfashionbookszipper
@servenas-inner-fangirl
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Two Faced | Chapter Ten
↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.
pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader
genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ??
word count :: 4k
author note :: haha.... wowww it's been long since i last updated. honestly my physical and mental health have just been horrible... that's about it, i lost a lot of motivation but if you're still reading i am very thankful and i will try to deliver the story well. i tried my best but writing whilst sick is very tiresome :-)
tags :: @patience-is-here , @chwlogy , @a--nonymousse , @imkumichan
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Keeping yourself cooped up within Levi's estate and never daring to step a foot outside should have been what you had done. Blackmailing him to keep you confined within the walls of your bedroom would be much better compared to the problem you have to resolve now. Perhaps if you had done so you wouldn't have collided face first into this muddle.
Jean fiddles with the ends of his button up, he doesn't take the chance to glance up at any of his superiors. He's either much too embarrassed or has nothing noteworthy to start off with.
Erwin chooses to call the shots seeing as neither you or the Viscount by your side wish to begin.
"You both understand why we're here. Correct me if I'm wrong?" The Commander looks between you, Jean and your unfortunate excuse of a husband. Suddenly it looks as if the gears and cogs in Jean's brain move without warning.
Offering a demure nod you expect for him to follow in your footsteps and do the same only he stands there looking between you and Levi.
"Wait...The two of you are? A couple?" Stunned isn't the word, Jean's completely flabbergasted.
"If you figured that out this late, I do not understand why Erwin sees you remotely fit for my team." Levi's beyond insulted at the fact he's only just understood the situation.
Jean, now more intimidated than ever before straightens his back and coughs clumsily, "Sorry." He murmurs chestnut eyes making contact with the hardwood floors.
The Commander's laced hands sit atop his desk, elegant fingers moving similar to honey on a spoon. He sighs not out of fatigue but pride. Whatever plan he's come up with has to be decent at the very least, his body language is telling you that much.
"We have a number of possibilities we can choose from. We owe that pleasure to Mr Kirstein here." Erwin offers him an almost cynical smile, you can't help but gulp thinking about how this is essentially your fault. With all the constant training sessions and team building tasks it makes sense for Jean to have completely forgot about your unspoken rule. Solely blaming him is incorrect.
Raising your arm above your head to intervene you make it known that you're aware of Levi shooting you a look of warning by returning it. It's best he knows you don't care for anyone's opinion let alone his.
"Permission to speak Commander?"
Your request is agreed to immediately with the wave of Erwin's hand.
"It's my fault for not reminding Jean. I'll take the blame, I hadn't even told him the full story concerning me and Levi."
Levi doesn't enjoy your defense in the slightest. "I don't expect my wife to fling herself at other men and allow for them to snoop around gathering the details of our personal lives."
Scoffing you shield yourself with your arms over your chest.
"Oh dear husband. If you want to get personal do tell me where my family is?" It's an inside joke only Levi will be able to understand.
"If you call those people family your standards are disgustingly low."
"Maybe that explains why I settled for you."
Again, other's opinions are not at the forefront of your priority list. Regardless it's quite enjoyable pushing Levi further into a corner with that sentence. You see the internal struggle play out within him. Jaw clenched, hands balled together. He doesn't have an appropriate response
Jean bursts out unable to hold it in any longer, chest trembling with every quake of laughter that ripples through him you have to shove him with your elbow. For a Viscount his etiquette sure is nonexistent.
"My word, the two of you sound like..."
Levi stares at him most probably expecting something along the lines of "An old married couple."
But, no. It's nothing anyone in the room expects. That includes you.
"It's as if you're unhappy with each other..."
Not a noise is made after that. Jean isn't mistaken, your heart is miserable. You've never had many relationships to begin with, whether it be familial, romantic or platonic and for someone such as your husband to treat you the way he does - it feels futile having to navigate around the complexities. Even if he isn't really your husband it's disappointing to reflect on your marriage so suddenly.
Feeling your face droop a little you bite your bottom lip with your teeth. Hearing the truth from someone you barely expect to hear it from has an effect on you.
You're so caught up analyzing everything it takes you a minute to even register Levi grumbling and lunging forward pilfering the collar of Jean's shirt.
"Every day you prove to be more and more pathetic than I expect." Levi turns to look at you after that. His stare bores into you but he doesn't come off threatening, you assume his last remark is directed solely at Jean.
When he turns back only glaring at Jean now with even more tenacity than before. He's ready to snap but Erwin has clearly had enough of the unwanted altercation in his office.
"Enough. The both of you. This is most bothersome." At the Commander's orders Levi is silenced although it takes all of his resolve to do so.
Finally bothering you take a good look at Jean. He's calm in an incredibly out of character way.
Is this not the man who trembled in his boots the first time he and Levi came into contact? It's almost as if he seems pleased with himself for drawing out such a reaction from his Captain.
Erwin shuffles through stacks of paperwork on his desk. The man needs an assistant at this point. You doubt you could find anything in that haphazard pile. Edges of crumpled paper poke out uncomfortably and Erwin becomes increasingly annoyed when he can't locate what it is he's looking for.
Just as you're about to ask if he requires any assistance it seems he's found what he's been looking for, that's if his eyes are any indication of the relief he feels.
"This." He holds up the paper, all eyes in the room are trained on it. "Under normal circumstances would not have to become an option."
"But these aren't normal circumstances?" Jean's thoughtless question is irksome when the answer is so obviously staring him down in the face.
Nonetheless Erwin nods incapable of losing his cool over something so minor.
"Sign to confirm to my proposition."
The document he places onto the desk isn't what you imagine, you can practically feel the dread climb up your throat once you're done scanning it. Jean's full name placed right next to yours in bold lettering has your stomach lurching. You don't have to read the rest to understand the new circumstances you've landed into.
To make matters worse Erwin places two rings down right in front of the both of you.
A pot of boiling hot water is what you've been thrown in.
Are you supposed to be some sort of replacement for potatoes? What's Jean in this scenario? Carrots?
"It is troublesome to have the two of you put on an act to be involved with one another but I see it as our safest option." Erwin notices your parted lips and slacked jaw. "You need not worry this isn't a marriage contract, you're simply acting."
There's no path out of this pot, you and Jean will simply have to deal with the prospect of being boiled alive.
Ah, you forgot to mention who would act as the hot water but you're sure the suspect is obvious.
Even right now Levi's fury radiates off of him, it's unclear if he was given the details of the Commander's plan beforehand but if his furrowed brow and pursed lips are indicators of the truth he must have had no idea.
Your suspicions are confirmed to be correct once Levi reaches forward plucking the paper away, it just so happens he's snatched it away the very moment Jean leans in to get a closer look at it.
"I was never informed of this."
Erwin gives him a guarded smile. "Do you have any jurisdiction over what I think is best?" Is his freezing reply.
"Yes. When it concerns my wife and another man - Correction. I meant boy."
Jean's taken aback by the subtle jab and shamefacedly shoves his hands into his pockets.
You watch the scene go down with a perplexed look the entire time. Levi's frustration seems to be legitimate yet he has no logical reason for it to ever be present in the first place. Unless he has a plan which outperforms the one you've just been given he's doing this all for nothing.
"I assure you your wife is in safe hands so long as you stop interfering."
Levi's about to bark back until he catches your confusion. He's become aware of your tilted head and telling expression and only then does he silence himself permanently not before sighing deeply, muttering an expletive under his breath.
"I’ll sign it.” That seems to be Jean’s indirect way of asking what your choice will be.
“I... will too.” Is your hesitant reply.
Levi only becomes avoidant after that. Half way through Erwin explaining how you and Jean have to look believable Levi just ups and leaves without a word. Perhaps you've hurt his pride but for what he's done to you it's a small price to pay and so you do nothing to make amends. He has no reason to feel uncomfortable, you aren't really his wife, you're essentially strangers. Does he even know your favourite colour? Your favourite food? Your favourite pastime?
You doubt he does.
Jean and you are rather successful with your act. It feels pleasant having him brush your hair out of your face occasionally or lovingly place a hand on your forehead to check if you've come down with a fever. He laces his fingers with yours when others are around and when they aren't he lets the act go. It's satisfying having a cooperative partner.
Naturally Jean is still a tease, even now he makes the odd suggestive comment or two in passing but you can't say you hate it. In fact it excites you to think of a response that borders the edge of teasing and simple fun between friends.
The increasing openness between the two of you is enough for the cadets to deduce that he's most probably the noble man you wed in secrecy.
It's only been a few days since yours and Jean's newfound behaviour, thankfully you haven't been flooded with questions just yet. The higher ups sit nearby during breakfast, lunch and dinner keeping watch over the cadets. It leaves you able to eat and drink without having to handle the constant inquiring of your comrades.
However, you aren't as lucky today. A meeting's taking place and after yours and Jean's convincing act Erwin deems it safe enough to leave you unattended for a short while.
Of course it doesn't go according to plan because when you're involved when does anything ever go according to plan?
The cadets are flocked around your table at dinner as soon as they notice they've been left to their own devices. The opportunity to sit down without everyone invading your space is barely provided to you. Krista is sat to your right leaning into you rather animatedly, Annie has made herself at home sat across you which in itself is completely out of character and slightly unnerving, Annie never and you repeat never concerns herself with you.
"Why did you and Jean hide it?" Armin hovers over your shoulder as per usual. He can't be blamed for naturally being inquisitive and it does give you the opportunity to lay out the foundations of your plan. Now's your time to muster up one of your rehearsed responses.
"It would interfere with work." You respond immediately wanting to appear natural. Pondering on an answer for too long would raise suspicions.
Armin makes a sound of approval and shuffles into the seat next to Krista, that is until Ymir can be overheard telling him to move if he knows what's best for him.
"I have a question." Says a voice across the table, you don't have to look at the blonde parallel to you to know it's her.
For once Annie’s initiated a conversation with you, she’s not particularly great at keeping her intentions discreet. Maybe she doesn’t care if you can tell what she’s up to? But if that’s the case her plan isn’t all that foolproof, there's no way you're to let any details slip away.
Sharply inhaling waiting for what it is she has to say you find that her sentence never comes. Instead she shakes her head and murmurs a "Never mind.". You don't even have the time to ask her to stick around, she's already rose from her seat taking her unfinished plate of food with her, you let her go assuming she feels unwell.
"So how'd you two meet? Jean already told me earlier but I'd like to hear your side." Reiner's taken Annie's empty seat and his gaze is unwavering. The trap they've set up is a clever one. Surveying the hall for Bertholdt you know he has to be observing too. The two never operate alone.
You suddenly hate Reiner. For whatever reason he and his trio are endlessly obsessed with you, they've caught onto something that's for sure but you don't know what it is and now they've completely ensnared you with a backhanded trick. There's no way out of this, you have no idea what it is Jean said to Reiner, the chances of you providing the exact same answer are slim to none.
"My memory is really fuzzy, I don't think Jean gave off much of a first impression so I've forgot." Your horrible excuse doesn't fly by, everyone simultaneously narrows their eyes in disbelief. What you've said isn't convincing at all.
Husband and Wife yet you've forgot how the two of you met?
Fidgeting with the ring adorning your finger the cool metal isn't doing a great job at alleviating the pressure of the situation.
"Jean said the two of you hit it off almost instantly. Who's being dishonest?"
Reiner's either lying to catch you out or he's saying the God honest truth and right now all you can do is hope and pray for a miracle to sweep you off your feet. Mikasa and Jean still aren't within view. At this point you're hoping for Levi to save you, it doesn't matter how so long as you escape unscathed.
"Hey, I think we're just making her anxious with all the questions." Armin is quick to side with you, deep down you know he only does so due to the respect he holds for his Commander. You thank the Heaven's for Erwin's admirable smile and commendable leadership, it seems to be the only reason Armin believes you and Jean.
"Or she's lying." Reiner's resting his head in one of his palms, he's still boring holes right into your frame.
Your eye twitches, this is all unnecessary and uncalled for, whatever it is Reiner wants out of you it better be worthwhile.
He still eggs you on. "You walked out of the Captain's quarters. I saw you."
Standing up and leaning forward you plant your feet to the ground as firmly as you can you.
"And if she did what's it to you?"
Fighting the urge to sigh in relief you've never been happier to hear Jean's voice but something's off. His breathing sounds heavy - like he fought his way to get inside. Turning only then do you notice Mikasa standing by him. She looks equally as exhausted. There's been some sort of a struggle.
"You think it was funny getting Annie to guard the door?" He heaves and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
"And you think hiding secrets from the rest of us is any better?" Reiner's adamant there's information that the both of you are hiding, he's not wrong but that doesn't change that he's challenging you unprovoked without a reasonable motive.
"We're hiding nothing." Unlike you Jean is sure of his words, he's confident speaking up and he seems to be able to pull off the role of a protective husband perfectly.
“I came out of the Captain’s quarters because he had access to hot water. He said I could use his shower. That’s all it was.”
Reiner quirks an eyebrow upwards and is pleased with your answer. God you’ve said something incriminating haven’t you? It's not incriminating per se but it's without doubt malleable and easy to twist.
“Jean, you were okay with your wife doing that at the dead of night?” Reiner's still leading the interrogation.
“I was the one who suggested it.”
“I don’t believe you’re a couple." If it were Reiner who said that you wouldn't care much, after all it's pretty clear he never believed it but to your displeasure it isn't him who's spoken. Ymir's lopsided grin is all knowing and you're beginning to lose your footing in this argument any second now if any more people start to side against you.
If Ymir disagrees that almost certainly means Krista has her qualms about you too, you've observed beforehand that Ymir tends to speak for Krista on occasion. This happens to be one of those times.
Krista timidly raises her hand and Ymir gives her an approving nod encouraging her to speak.
"I don't like the conflict going on but it is suspicious..."
"Why have I only ever seen you two hold hands?" She asks.
Ymir slings her arm over Krista's shoulder affectionately. "Yeah, I tell Krista I'll marry her every day of the week."
Mikasa mumbles something unintelligible, Ymir gives her a look of warning but Mikasa doesn't seem to care. Instead she repeats what she has to say loud and clear.
"Stick to only speaking when Krista is involved."
Krista holds Ymir by her arm so she doesn't get up, she knows how she gets when she's been provoked. Even if Krista has her suspicions it isn't worth Ymir gaining a permanent penalty point on her record.
Thankfully Armin cuts in. "There's no solid evidence to show they're lying and even if they are the Commander's most probably told them to. Don't you think there's a reason? Leave it be if that's the case. I trust him with our lives."
"We have a right to know." Annie's returned and insists to keep this back and forth going.
Just as you're about to fire back Jean takes a hold of your waist, you look down and seeing his large hands planted securely around your frame has your stomach bubbling with anticipation.
"What are you— "
And then he kisses you, he doesn't ask and instinctively your arms move to whack his chest but you stop yourself in time. You realize it's for the sake of your plan not falling through and so you gently place your hands on his shoulders attempting to ground yourself. It becomes increasingly difficult when you sink deeper into the kiss than you'd like to admit. Blood rushes to the tips of your ears and the thumping of your heartbeat makes it difficult to articulate any thoughts, all you really know is that you like this, whatever this is.
Jean's hands don't feel like they were made to rest against your back, they feel slightly out of place as if he's a key and you're an unmatched lock. In spite of that the circles he comfortingly rubs into the sides of your waist are appreciated, you almost forget you're in a room full of people until you're flooded by cold air.
You've been dragged off of Jean and something in the pit of your stomach has you wishing Levi isn't responsible for the interruption.
To your relief it's just Hange, they're glowing in mischief, the grin on their face shows they aren't mad. They might even find this entertaining.
"Well I be damned... maybe they weren't bluffing?" Connie's been persuaded by the looks of it and Krista's busy whispering to Ymir, you hear the faint sound of the word "Romantic" escape her lips, she's equally as convinced as Connie.
Hange smacks your back light-heartedly and looks to the door for a second. "We leave ya' both for a while and you decide to give everyone a show?"
Erwin's stood by the doorway with a humorous smile playing at his lips, Levi however is anything but amused, he glares at you with murderous eyes, he looks like he's ready to end your life then and there but you know he won't dare do so and for a second you feel braver than you ever have before. Without much thought you grab onto Jean's forearm.
"Me and my husband will get going now!" You allow your gaze to loiter when you get to Reiner. He grunts an apology and you're oh so tempted to ask him to repeat himself but you'd rather not instigate anything.
With that said and done you and Jean leave after giving the performance of your lives.
Slowly but gradually the sky outside becomes dark.
The will to sleep left your body long ago. It's by pure luck that you even manage to catch three hours of rest. Training is the only available distraction and dying out in battle isn't favourable by any means, your boredom may as well be used resourcefully - Strapping yourself up in your ODM gear is the best option.
A quarter way through your warm up you can sense a presence behind you, the leaves rustle and the wind feels noticeably quieter. You'd bother to turn around to see who's intruded but Levi's snuck close enough for you to be able to smell his perfume from where you're stood.
"Feel disrespected? Embarrassed even?" You jab at him knowing it'll rile him up, you don't face him not wanting to give him the pleasure of seeing your face.
"Watch your mouth." he warns sharply.
Rolling your eyes you go about your business, it stays that way for a few minutes. All the while Levi stares at you darting from tree to tree, his scrutinizing gaze scalding you repeatedly.
"Y/N!" He yells at the top of his lungs.
For some unknown reason you automatically stop and lower yourself to the ground
"I have something to tell you." Comes his tense follow up. A finger of his latches onto one of the leather straps on your back.
You can't believe he's still denying the undeniable.
"You can wait till tomorrow. I'll be going to bed."
Levi doesn't seem to care for your cold response and proceeds with no warning.
"I'm jealous." His voice shakes. The grip he has on your harness doesn't let up. With your back turned to him you're still somehow able to detect the very obvious crack of pain.
Levi, jealous?
Gritting your teeth together you feel deceived.
How much longer will you have to tolerate Levi's push and pull?
“May I ask, what he is to you, my love?”
Your breathing grows heavy, tensing up you're completely shocked by the term of endearment that falls from his lips. You haven't heard it for so long, Levi sounds eerily different.
You hate to admit it but a flicker of foolish hope lights in your chest.
"Levi why would you ask— "
"Why don't you call me Lev anymore?" He whispers sounding strangled. You can't take it anymore and hesitantly look his way.
His eyes are filled with tears "I'm sorry my love, I don't know what went wrong." you falter for a second not knowing what to think.
At that moment the flicker becomes a flame.
The man who stands right before you is meant to be dead, never to be seen again. By all accounts this should be impossible, but Lev has always been a fighter.
Bitterness stings your heart, the wounds you've collected are still fresh but despite your body's protests you don't flinch when he gently takes a hold of your wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth.
"Lev...? Is that really you...?" You ask desperately.
The warm kiss he presses against your pulse point provides you with the answer you've been longing for.
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