#ichormotel / beau arlen.

[whitesuited]

she can’t remember the last time she was so relieved to see the inside of a hotel room ------ her boots kicked off one by one near the door and quickly nudged aside to keep @ichormotel​ from tripping over the pair as he follows her inside. the next piece of her characterization to get abandoned now that they’re safely out of sight is the undoing of the knot on the top of her head and a decent shake out of her hair, the motion sending blonde waves in every direction possible as she makes her way further into the honeymoon suite and gives her aching scalp a good one over with the tips of her nails.

( an unexpected perk of showing up in vegas four days ago with their little newlywed cover story had been the sheer amount of upgrades the hotel had been more than happy to bestow upon the new mister and missus; the spaciousness of their new hotel room was at least double or even triple the size of the one they’d booked before they left montana, the string of complimentary drinks and desserts sent to the room had been accepted with a practiced and sincere smile each time one appeared from room service. and there was still the hope they’d have this case wrapped up in enough time for her to use the free full - body massage voucher for the in - house spa before they have to head back. )

it’s practically automatic that she reaches behind her back ( as best she can, at least ) for the tab of her zipper next, “babe?” pawing in vain at a little tab of metal she isn’t going to be able to reach on her own without resorting to some impressive acts of contortionism. “can you do me a huge favor?” forgetting for a moment that all of this is fictitious ( and while she and beau might be friendly with one another as can be, they’re still not on a level where she should be calling him pet names and getting undressed right in front of him ), she asks in the hope that he’ll come over and help her, already gathering up her hair to one side, giving him a better look at the back of the dress that’s been her cover for the night while they went from poker table to poker table looking for their guy. 

            “it doesn’t have to be all the way down, just until i can reach ---- ” the sudden effort to clarify means she’s gone and realized what she asked might come off as a little inappropriate, but she hasn’t let go of the blonde rope that now circles her hand either. she won’t look in his direction ------ her eyes stay fixed on the ceiling ------ listening for the sound of his boots coming closer until she feels the back of his fingers lightly brush against her skin before the familiar slow pull of metal teeth separating and the first deep lungful of air in hours.

and when she turns back around, he’s still there ---------- closer than she’d anticipated, and looking just as surprised by the fact that neither one of them has bothered to move now that her request’s been fulfilled as she is. “thanks,” it’s practically a whisper when she does manage to find the ability to express her gratitude; eyes quick to shift between the way he’s looking at her and his mouth ------------- the pull of the latter proving to be just a little too much as she pushes herself up on her tip - toes and kisses him; tentatively at first, but then a beat passes, then two; three ---- but three seems to be the limit as she realizes he’s pulling back and apologizing now, while she waits for her head to finish swimming. “beau — ” ( she can’t even blame it on the whisky she’d had downstairs; not that she would anyway. she’d barely had three sips of that drink before they’d come back up here … this was her acting on something she hadn’t even completely realized she wanted as much as she did had. but he’d pulled back and begun an apology, sharon quickly beginning to offer up one of her own while very much afraid she’s gone and completely wrecked both a professional and personal relationship in one quick brush of her lips. “no, no, it’s my fault, im —”

            “sorry, i shouldn’t have done that. .... definitely shouldn’t have done that,” she presses the pads of her fingertips to her temple while her other hand stays pressed flat against her back in an attempt to keep her dress in place as the reality of what she’s done sinks more and more in. “i should .… go shower, maybe.” she motions quickly to the bathroom; it’s not all that far away, but considering this might as well be a walk - of - shame for her, there’s no scenario where her aching feet will be able to carry her quick enough. all she can do is start stepping backwards, away from him and closer to the sanctuary of the bathroom.

once inside she closes the door quietly with a string of curse words, threatening to turn the white marble bathroom blue, a deep breath following as she once again runs her fingers and nails through her hair while she lets the last few minutes play over and over in her mind ( and lets her dress finally fall to the floor in a sad, sequined pile ). fuck, fuck, fuck. the only thing she can do now is prolong the time she spends in here ---------- how else is she supposed to make sure there’s space between the two of them while she essentially hides if not by taking as long and hot of a shower as her skin will allow?

as she opens the glass door to the stall and starts up the water, she’s counting on the volume of it will be at least enough to drown out the way she’s berating herself in her head ------- from asking for his help, to misreading the way his fingers lingered on her skin, to the kiss ..… if only shampoo washed away bad decisions too. she gives the water a minute or two to come to temperature before she climbs in and shuts the door behind her, content to simply stand there and let the hot water wash over her for now until she remembers how exactly to wash her hair.

she’s almost sure she hears the door open; realizing she hadn’t locked the door like she always does ( a force of habit from her youth; she even does it when she’s alone at her place ), but the sound is fleeting, and the water feels far too good beating down on the back of her neck for her to make the effort to turn around and look. it isn’t until she feels a sudden; brief chill ------------ the glass door to the shower stall opening and closing again, as she comes to find out when she does turn around this time; the curiosity on her face to see him standing in there with her obvious even through the steam that rises around them.

------------ “beau?”

[whitesuited]

she’s lost count of how many times she’s shaken the little packet of sugar between her fingertips ( or for how long ), the contents of the little pouch shifted to the bottom a long time ago, but there’s no intention of actually ripping it open and shaking it into her coffee. it’s simply a way to kill time; to stall here and lean against the side of the countertop near the coffee maker, watching the rest of the department come and go at the beginning of what no doubt will be a busy day all around. she resists the urge to let her eyes light up when @ichormotel​ finally makes an appearance ------------- opting instead for finally putting down the sugar she’s been using as a stalling mechanism without budging from her prime location next to the only thing worth coming into the kitchen for this early in the morning. despite how friendly they’ve gotten outside of work, there’s a mutual understanding that while they’re here, it’s professionalism first and foremost. ( and maybe just a little bit of flirting when they think they can get away with it. )

he offers up a blanket ‘hello’ to the handful of deputies still milling around before making their way back to their desks before the morning briefing, and she takes it upon herself to make something innocent into one of those little bit of flirting situations if only because she’s sure she can. her lips hover over the edge of her mug, attempting to keep the grin that’s on her face hidden so the rest of the room can’t see the way she’s beaming behind a thin piece of porcelain.

           “ ’morning, sheriff. looking a little less haggard than usual, hm? good for you.” not what she’s actually thinking, of course; but again, they’re supposed to be co - workers and nothing more. ( but she’s sure the look she’s giving him now fully gives herself away ------- it’s probably for the best the kitchen’s cleared out for the most part now only leaving them alone with one other deputy who’s going to be a little harder to shoo away. ) “you too, carter,” he gives her a smile as he reaches for the handle to the coffee pot; the one that leads to all those little creases in the corner of his eye ----- the one she’s pretty keen on even while knowing that seeing it now means she’s in for it. “you don’t look totally ugly today.” he doesn’t even miss a beat, or spill a drop of the coffee he’s pouring, only glancing in her direction once it’s safely back on the burner.

she’s already halfway into her sip when he does it, and it’s a real testament to her ability to keep a straight face ( and her mouth shut for two seconds ) that what’s left of that sip isn’t sent flying halfway across the room courtesy of a spit take for that one. instead, she manages to swallow down the last mouthful of coffee that’s threatening to find a way out from between her lips if she doesn’t bring that mug back up in a hurry and pretend this conversation is as mundane as they come. even while knowing the simple fact that they both know better than to call anything about whatever it is they are mundane ---------- or that just an hour or so earlier that very morning, he’d been the one saying ‘good morning beautiful’ into the dip between her shoulder and her neck with that same troublemaker’s smile looking back at the both of them in the mirror while she brushed her teeth. something about that image still fresh in her mind makes his ‘compliment’ here and now even more delightful.

she clicks her tongue once her mouth is free and clear from that last sip; making it look like she’s really taking his observation to heart. she nods once, finally flashing him a smile of her own that suggests she’s going to take this little impromptu game that he’s volleyed back to her and run with it for as long as she thinks she’ll be able to get away with it. “thanks for noticing. i’ve been working on that, actually.” she angles her mug away, gaze shifting from him to her coffee cup while she pretends to be deeply interested in the way the brown colored liquid swirls around when she rolls her wrist in a circle.

          “must’ve been all that good beauty sleep i got last night,” which is more than just a little white lie considering it’s completely false from top to bottom; but since the only person who could call her bluff is also the reason why, she doubts there will be any kind of attempt to set that record straight. at least not while poppernak is taking his sweet time waiting for his breakfast to warm up in the microwave. 

she takes another sip from her cup, shoulders bobbing with a well - timed sigh, “dunno what it could’ve been, but i was just completely worn out. but if it’s working that well, maybe i should keep it up.”

[whitesuited]

staying late after the rest of the department had gone home for the evening was pretty common for her ----------- apparently a habit she’d inherited from her father without even realizing it. ( though the number of nights she went to bed as a kid without seeing her father only to see him materialize the next morning at the breakfast table might have been a clue. ) but she liked the quiet being on an empty deputy’s floor brought, liked the ability to get caught up on all the paperwork she tended to willfully ignore during the hours that made up her regular shift. once and a while she’d see another desk light on out on the floor, or a lone office lit up from behind some drawn blinds for an hour or two past everyone leaving for the night, but more often than not she’d have the floor to herself for as long as she needed ( or until the cleaning crew came in and reminded her of just how late it had gotten ). 

she isn’t surprised to see @ichormotel​’s office lights on as she wanders down the hall in search of just one more lukewarm and burnt cup of coffee ------- he’s a lot like her when it comes to his approach to work; head down and all - in on seeing the case through until the end ( she sees that same stubbornness in him that she likes to deny about herself, too ), and keen on minimizing distractions. ( though it feels like that policy’s gotten a little more lax in certain circumstances ---- certainly nothing that would ever effect a case, but it’s been nice to have a reprieve once and awhile around here. ) and considering their current workload is less than light, those reprieves have been collateral damage when it comes to getting everything done.

so if she’s taking a few moments to take a break, there shouldn’t be any harm in offering him the same option, right? the fact she hadn’t even known he was here still means he’s well overdue anyway. she glances at her watch, making sure it’s as late as she thinks it is before she formally abandons her quest for tepid caffeine and opts instead for the open door of his office. she uses two knuckles worth of a light tap tap tap to announce herself, and the scene she finds on the other side of that doorway is pretty much what she’s expecting; he’s got a stack’s worth of paperwork spread out over his desk in the neatest form of chaos she’s ever seen, but the man that should be behind the desk is missing.

his jacket is still there, draped over the back of his chair -------- a hint that he’s still somewhere in the building, and not on his way home without her it; which is more than enough of an excuse for her to hang around and wait for him to reappear. ( so much for her little plan on compelling him to take a little break with her --------- it seems like they’ve had the same idea without even realizing it. )

she lingers in the doorway for a little while, leaning up against the doorframe and facing the longer end of the hall, waiting to hear what’s become the intimately familiar sound of his boots echoing off the tile floor. her eyes trail back to his desk again in the absence of any sounds that remind her of him, and after enough time hearing nothing but the air conditioning cycling on, she rolls her shoulder over the doorframe and opts instead to spend the rest of this surprise ( it’s still a surprise as far as she’s concerned; he doesn’t know she’s here, and now she gets to get in on the fun of not knowing when he’s going to walk through his own office door again ) waiting inside for him.

the chairs he has on the opposite side are passed up as options; and he looks better sitting in his seat anyway ------- which leads her to tidying up a small section of the front of his desk for her to perch on, collecting notes and evidence tickets and sliding them into one of the ( many ) manila folders he’s got open and setting it all to the side to make room for when she pushes herself up onto the edge and settles, legs crossed and swinging slowly back and forth; sharon leaning this way and that to make sure she’s just out of the eyeline of someone who’s about to walk through the door.

it’s still a few minutes more before she hears those footsteps coming closer, a shuffle and scuff of leather soles that remember where to turn even when it becomes clear he’s operating on auto - pilot ---- he may have been away from his desk, but it looks like he took a piece of it with him; another one of those folders resting on the crook of his arm while his brow keeps pinching over sentences he apparently isn’t all too happy to be reading. whatever it is on those pages, regardless of how they’re currently making his brow jump, they’ve got enough of his attention that he doesn’t see her sitting there waiting for him ---------- he even gets close enough for her to straighten out her leg and touch him with the toe of her boot. which she does, a little goose to his thigh accompanied by a cheshire - cat - worthy grin, “hey cowboy.”

as if she wasn’t already grinning from ear - to - ear, it’s only once he’s this close that she thinks she sees a paper cup cradled in his free hand ---- and if that’s the case, at least that last cup of coffee she’d been craving earlier went to a good home. “saw your light on. i didn’t realize you were still here too,” she hasn’t lowered her foot since that first little nudge to win back his attention, and she doubles down with a another roll of her ankle. “so i came in here with this whole speech planned about how you’ve been working all day, and trying to convince you that you deserved a break ---------- and i would’ve ended up delivering it to an empty room.”

still, it’s the thought that counts, right? the grin hasn’t budged from off her face, nor has the toe of her boot from his leg, “still wanna hear it?”

[whitesuited]

the last time she’d been out on this lake with a fishing pole in hand it had been at the insistence of her father ----- the two of them sat on either end of his ancient rowboat long into the afternoon while he listened to the baseball game on his AM radio ( the rowboat she still, to this day, hasn’t been able to figure out how it managed to stay afloat purely on the amount of duct tape and good intentions that held it together ) while she tried to keep herself from leaning too far over the edge to see why her little orange bobber wasn’t bobbing; or trying not to fall asleep while he went on and on about how live bait was the way god had always intended them to fish from the beginning.

( nothing like spending your saturday mornings all summer long up before the sun digging around in an old beat up folgers coffee can full of nightcrawlers. )

so when @ichormotel​ had asked her if she wanted to come along with him this time, she’d surprised even herself with how quickly she’d said yes; even if the before - five - am - wake - up - call it required made her feel a little jittery ( and not just from the vast amount of caffeine she’d made a point of bringing along for the ride to go along with a cooler full of beers for later and a few sandwiches ). but the opportunity of some time alone without work so much as being mentioned wasn’t something she was about to pass up, even if it meant rolling out of bed almost as soon as she’d rolled into it the night before ---------- and acting like she was even good at this whole fishing thing to begin with. ( she knew she was in trouble once she’d commented on the mini pro - shop’s worth of rods he had leaning there against the wall in his office; but if she could feign being terrible at pool she could fake being good at drowning worms. )

it certainly helps that they seem to be the only ones out on the lake; at least for now ----- the sounds of water barely brushing up against the sides of the boat and the occasional birdsong are far cries from the memories of moments like these being accompanied by the sounds of radio static and beeps on the hour. he already seems more relaxed out here while she watches him setting everything up now that they’ve dropped anchor, which is an equally nice surprise; and she wonders if maybe it’ll take a bit of the weight of being down at the station all the time off her shoulders, too. ( and maybe that’s why she finds herself watching him just a little bit longer than she knows she should ---- that she knows is probably safe to ---- tying off lures, testing lines and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges when he concentrates on those little knots … but she catches herself before he can see that she’s staring; might just consider it her first catch of the day, too. )

which means she should probably follow his lead and get her own pole ready for the water; doing her best to pull from what muscle memories she still has of these trips with her father and stealing mirroring beau’s routine to help fill in the gaps. “so what are we thinking, ten fish each? maybe twenty?” the corner of her mouth curls on the side that’s closest to him as her fingernails attempt to separate and untangle her line, still going along with the plan to bluff about her fishing prowess for as long as she can get away with it. “figure we’re going to get pretty hungry.” she’s already promised to cook whatever they catch for dinner later ----------- the one part of this so far she actually feels confident about being able to do with ease.

           “or am i gonna to be carrying the both of us so we aren’t stopping at the diner for a consolation dinner on the way back?”