#kendlerfanfic

[shadowswilltakeus]

Writer: shadowswilltakeus)

Fandom: Whitechapel

Pairing: Kendler (Detective Constable Emerson Kent/Detective Inspector Joseph Chandler)

Type: one-shot

Characters: DI Mina Norroy, DC Emerson Kent, DI Joseph Chandler, DC Finley Mansell, DS Ray Miles, DC Meg Riley

Word Count: 829

Rating: Mature

Warning: Implied sexual content; mild sexual language

Summary: Just an average working day at Whitechapel police station when a familiar - and none too popular - blast from the past pops in to pay the team a visit. Ensue ruffled feathers and a lot of uptightness once the reason is uncovered.

TITLE: ~ NOT YOU AGAIN ~

DI Joseph Chandler cannot keep back his stunned laughter. He thinks he must have misheard. Maybe he should double check, just in case.

“I’m sorry, DI Norroy - “

“ - Mina, please.”

Joe swallows at her interruption; the look of satisfaction on her face is not reassuring him in the least.

“Mina”, he repeats, albeit with an accompanying wince of discomfort at the familiarity. “Mina, I apologise if I have read the entire situation wrong, but I must ask you ... did you come all the way over here to - er - “, he clears his throat and loosens the knot in his tie slightly, “did you come here to ask me out?”

She tilts her blonde head, her tight ponytail barely moving as she awaits Joseph’s response, so certain of what his answer will be.

“And what is wrong with that?” She smiles and flutters her lashes in what she is sure is an appealing way. She leans towards Joe across his desk and smirks almost playfully. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” She sits back and crosses her arms confidently ...

DI Mina Norroy storms out of the office with Joe following behind her. She points to Kent and snaps her head back around to look at Joe as she yells "What the hell do you see in him?!"

"OI!" Miles shouts from his desk, offended on Kent’s behalf.

She stops in front of Kent, vibrating with anger and Joe stands next to her with eyes bulging in shock as he looks from the blonde detective inspector to his dark curled detective constable.

"Well, it's clear what he sees in you!" she briefly gestures from Kent towards Joe. "A quick promotion!"

Kent leans back in his chair, his left leg resting on his right knee, and with pen waving between his fingers, replies deadpan:

"Actually, he's just a really great lay."

Immediately Riley shrieks with laughter and Mansell and Miles follow suit, their shoulders heaving as they both guffaw. Norroy is shocked into silence and only glares at Kent who gives her a shit-eating grin and a wink. She turns on her heel and storms off towards the exit. "You have a good day now." He calls after her, still fanning his pen between his finger and thumb as he sits forward to carry on with his work.

Mansell chuckles he has to text his girlfriend Erica what just happened; as Kent's twin sister as well she always needs to hear the gossip as soon as it happens, and she's heard all about DI Mina Norroy. He pulls his phone out and wipes his eyes, still laughing heartily.

Kent tuts at Mansell, though he is secretly proud of his response to the uptight blonde; he was determined to not be jealous concerning Joe and Norroy's interaction a couple of years previously. Kent opens a new tab on his computer and starts typing rapidly just as Joe shifts closer to him.

"Kent, a word in my office please." He states in that low, clipped way he has when he is feeling overwhelmed and not in control of the situation. Kent looks up to see Joe's cheeks still flaming red.

Kent swallows nervously as he watches Joe stiffly turn and stride quickly back to his own office.

"I'm in trouble now." He sing-songs, trying to make light of the dread he's beginning to feel.

"Nah", Mansell responds supportively, "just turn it into something useful later" and winks meaningfully, making Kent roll his eyes and grin in spite of himself.

"I'll remember that", he chuckles, then walks into Joe's office and shuts the door. Joe immediately locks it, then yanks the blind down covering the glass pane, and moves deftly to pull down the other blind on the large window looking out into the incident room. Kent’s eyes follow his superior's movements and he sighs. "I'm sorry, Joe, I know I shouldn't have, but -"

Suddenly Joe grabs Kent by the hips and crashes his body against his, forcing their mouths together and sending them against the opposite wall. His tongue pushes into Kent's mouth and the younger man moans.

"Ha, I should be inappropriate more often." Kent murmurs, laughing, then losing his mind as Joe's lips trail their way over his throat and his tongue sweeps over that spot just below Kent's ear.

"Only to unwanted guests who gatecrash in order to ask your fiancé out," Joe replies breathily, his lips still fastened to Kent's throat.

"Noted." Kent breathes and places his palm against the back of Joe's head to guide his boss's mouth back to his own. Joe reaches for his constable's belt buckle and zip, his hand slides inside smoothly, eliciting a gasp and Joe smiles against his fiancé's lips.

Needless to say, at the end of the shift when the two men do not resurface, the other three decide to head to the pub without them and make Ed come along instead.

[shadowswilltakeus]

Two down, three to go.

[shadowswilltakeus]

Writer: shadowswilltakeus)

Fandom: Whitechapel

Type: one shot

Pairing: Kendler (Detective Constable Emerson Kent x Detective Inspector Joseph Chandler)

Word Count: 1,564

Rating: Mature

Warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos, male sexual objectification

Summary: The air con has broken down in the incident room and the team is suffering during a particularly unnaturally hot summer. (Set during the summer of what would have been series 5).

TITLE: It’s A Heatwave

Jesus Christ. Could it get any hotter in here if it tried?!

Emerson Kent irritably slammed his stapler on the desk and managed to upset his carefully lined up pens on to the floor.

'Fuck', he swore under his breath. Not half as quietly as he had thought, given the way his sergeant looked up and raised an eyebrow at him.

Flushing, Kent automatically ducked his head and returned his gaze to his monitor, not even pretending to read the words on the screen. He blinked and sighed, not for the first time wishing he could just flop into an ice-cold lake.

'Is the air con gonna come on any time soon?!' Finley Mansell angrily gritted through his teeth, wiping the perspiration off his brow for the umpteenth time.

'Oh, have you not heard?' Meg Riley casually threw out. 'It's broken.'

'WHAT?!' Mansell exclaimed, eyes completely bugging out, utterly appalled. 'What the fuck are we supposed to do in the meantime? Drown in our own sweat and misery, I suppose!' He folded his arms and winced at the discomfort the beginnings of a soiled shirt was bringing. It wasn't even lunch time yet.

Riley reached into the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a small battery operated fan. 'Well, you can if you want', she replied, switching it on and holding it to her face smugly. 'I'll be all right', she noted, smiling serenely in a way that was positively obscene. She smirked at Mansell's succinct response of a middle finger.

'Kent, be useful. Nick her batteries.' Mansell grumbled, making Riley protectively clutch the cheap neon green plastic to her chest. She started slightly when the felt propellers briefly buzzed against her.

Kent looked over and pouted, gazing longingly at the object.

'Oh dear.' Sergeant Ray Miles perked up from his own desk opposite his youngest detective constable. 'I know that look.'

'Ha! Yeah! That's usually the one he uses for the guv!' Mansell snorted.

Kent was about to retort with a suitably rude comeback when a deep and calm voice politely interrupted:

'And what would that be exactly?'

Both Kent and Mansell froze in horror amid Riley's cackle and Miles's brief snigger behind a file.

'Nothing, boss.' Mansell muttered into his chest as he clicked his mouse copiously under the guise of being busy.

'Mmmhmm', Detective Inspector Joseph Chandler murmured with a slight rise of his eyebrows.

He walked - (glided, Kent couldn't help thinking before he shook his head in exasperation at himself) - back to his office without another word, but still, Kent thought he had detected the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Chandler softly closed his door behind him.

Kent's eyes followed his movements; they always did, he could never help it. He swallowed as he watched DI Chandler remove his suit jacket and gently, correctly, drape it over the back of his chair. Even from his own desk, Kent could see the telltale signs of the overbearing heat getting to Chandler by the pink flush in his cheeks. Kent swallowed again and took a breath, telling himself to look away before …

S.H.I.T.

All three of them - Miles, Mansell, Riley - (even some of the other officers he could never remember the names of - did they even have names?) were staring unashamedly at him, especially when his team started grinning at him in that way. He closed his eyes and looked again at his computer screen, lifting a pen to tap against the keyboard so as to suggest some sort of work was going on. He prayed it was enough to distract his colleagues back to their own work, and to keep him from looking back at Chandler's office door again. This course of action succeeded for all of ten minutes before a noise from Chandler made him glance over.

Kent's mouth popped open and his eyes widened. 'Oh God', he breathed. He realised even to his own ears it was a desperate and bizarre mix of longing and dread.

Chandler's once crisp shirt was now clinging indecently to every muscle and hard angle of his body. Transparently so.

Kent blinked repeatedly trying to work out how on God's earth did he manage to get so lucky and yet be so clearly tortured all at the same time. It seemed clear that between leaving the incident room and returning, Chandler must have tipped a bottle of water over himself. Kent gulped at the result and felt as if he should cross himself and start praying.

'Try not to self-combust, Kent.' Miles smirked.

'There's no way your blood pressure is going to survive this shift if you keep that up.' Riley giggled. She tilted her head and looked at their DI through his office's glass door. 'He is very buff, though, isn't he?' She gave a sneaky wink to Kent, then glanced deviously at Mansell who folded his arms leisurely behind his back and grinned widely.

'I know I have trouble keeping my mind on work whenever he flexes those muscles in my eye line.'

'Now, Mansell, steady; it's more than hot enough in here as it is. Think of poor Kent.' She grinned mischievously.

'I know I'm having trouble staying cool. I tell ya, my Judy should count herself lucky I'm so devoted.' Miles retorted, almost succeeding with a straight face.

Mansell and Riley tried to hide their manic grins behind their hands but failed miserably. Kent was very close to the end of his rope when one of the nameless officers by the bins piped up:

'I wouldn't kick him out of bed for leaving crumbs, that's for sure.'

All four of them turned to look at him.

'Who are you again?' Kent asked impatiently, then lifted a hand, 'never mind.'

And all four of them turned around again.

'So, when you planning on worshipping the boss again on your knees?' Mansell asked casually.

'Leave off', Miles answered, 'he's already paid that particular due at least three times today.'

- 'And counting', Riley chimed in.

'Any second now he'll be preggers', Mansell guffawed.

'I AM here, y'know!' Kent blurted out in exasperation. He wondered if Joe would let him borrow his tiger balm because the headache that was threatening was going to be explosive at this rate.

'Yeah. That's what makes it so much fun.' Mansell shrugged.

'Oh for fuck's sake!' Kent snapped, now resorting to deep breaths through his nose before breathing out again.

'Language.' Miles responded, eyeing Kent's unimpressed expression with glee.

'You do remember you're supposed to be in charge of this rabble, don't you?' Kent said conversationally to his sergeant, gesticulating with contempt at Mansell and Riley who were looking on as innocently as they could fake.

'Since when do you lot listen to me?' Miles replied, opening up his paper now and scanning the sports section.

Riley leaned over and tossed a file on to his desk belonging to a case they were soon to close.

'Why don't you pass this along to the boss for me?' Kent took the folder and smiled. 'See if you can get a decent grope in whilst he's having a read through.'

Kent made an impatient noise and muttered 'is nothing sacred??' under his breath.

'Don't come back until you have your first five baby names picked out.' Mansell grinned happily.

Kent closed his eyes for a second and internally asked for strength. He made the mistake of glancing to his left, and his eyes fell unavoidably on the object of his affection.

Chandler was now standing, leaning over his desk, his soaked shirt moulded to every inch of his body, inviting Kent's eyes to wander recklessly, helplessly. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows leaving his forearms exposed as well as his neck since his tie had been discarded, along with his waistcoat, and with four shirt buttons undone Kent could make out the tanned skin of his chest, his eyes roaming lower as they were teased with so much more of what was hidden beneath.

Kent took a breath and without permission, his mind entertained some of his favourite work fantasies. Somehow time seemed to slow down as he was imagining his lips chasing caresses over Chandler's throat, and just as his hands smoothed down Chandler's body, fingers tracing the planes of his chest down towards the hardness of his stomach, Chandler's hands possessively gripping his hips in response so as to bring him closer … Chandler - the Chandler alone in his office, frowning at some papers - looked up at that second, eyes locking on to Kent's, boring right into him. Kent lept from his seat, jerking so violently he knocked his mug of tea right into his lap.

With a yelp and several swear words, Kent desperately grabbed a packet of tissues from his drawer to wipe himself down as best he could.

'Maybe you could ask the boss for assistance', Mansell choked, and all three howled with laughter.

Kent rolled his eyes and wondered if Joe would let him go home to change his now very soggy trousers. Not to mention murder his colleagues. He glanced back over at the office and Joe was looking his way again, this time with the merest hint of a knowing smile.

Maybe it wasn't going to be such a long day after all.

[shadowswilltakeus]

Writer: shadowswilltakeus)

Fandom: Whitechapel

Type: one shot

Characters: Morgan Lamb, Emerson Kent, DI Joseph Chandler

Word Count: 1,328

Rating: General

Warning: Angst. Quite a lot.

Summary: Takes place during the scene of the last episode of series 3 between Morgan Lamb and Emerson Kent when he has to apologise to her for believing she was involved in the murders. It’s what could have happened leading to Emerson running out of the door upset.

TITLE: ~ NOTHING HERE TO SAVE ~

‘I wanted to apologise to you.’ Kent murmurs softly. He feels terrible already condemning in his mind the woman sitting in front of him. Maybe he is wrong after all.

‘Why?’ 

‘I shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in your interview. I shouldn’t have spied on you. Guess being the bad cop isn’t really me.’ He tries to offer a self-deprecating chuckle to soften the previous blows he had offloaded on her.

Morgan does not reply immediately, only considers Kent with the briefest of insincere smiles. 'Perhaps it's more you than you think,' she states, eyeing the man in front of her more openly scathingly.

Her words slice through his chest with deadly precision. He can't move, can barely blink. A deep horror chills his blood.

She knows just what to say. Morgan leans back in her chair but says nothing more for now. Only regards the Detective Constable with a coldness that seeps far beneath his skin. She knows she's struck a nerve. She meant to. 

'Poor Detective Constable Emerson Kent. So troubled and paranoid because of his job. So painfully, blatantly in love with his boss. So pathetic.'

Kent steels himself to gaze back into her cold eyes and swallows. 'You don't know what you're talking about.' He is relieved his voice sounds sure, if slightly hushed. 

An infuriatingly smug smile adorns her lips, emphasising the hardness in her eyes.

'I always know.'

Kent swallows again as discreetly as he knows how. He can't have her see any more than she already has.

'So, what are you going to do about it?' Her tone is forced casualness. She is fluffing her hair and pretending to sweep off something from the plastic suit she still has to wear until her clothes are returned from forensics. She looks back up into Kent's eyes and smiles again as if they are old friends. 'You see, your boss ... he doesn't know. Hasn't a clue.' There is almost mirth in her voice.

Kent flexes his fist and feels a surge of hate suffocate his reply. It lodges deep in his chest and almost blinds him to all that is in the room with him. He takes a subtle breath and his vision clears again, the overwhelming sensation recedes slightly.

'Look, I've apologised. Again, I am sorry for any implication on my part that you were involved in the killings or the killer himself. I don't know what else I can say.' He shrugs and turns on his heel to exit.

'He doesn't think that way about you, DC Kent. You really should know that he never will either', she lets slip a huff of laughter, shaking her head slightly as if she regards the idea amusing in its absurdity.

Kent turns his head to glare at her. He knows she is aware of how to slash at him so effectively. She knows how to hack away at his heart, using Chandler as the weapon. Kent's skin prickles sharply.

'Oh, because you're exactly what he needs and wants, huh?' Kent leans against the door jamb. 'You have spent barely two days with him. You don't know him. You'll never know him. I've been here, beside him, for over three years.'

Morgan grimaces. 'And yet, where has that got you exactly? Just another night in another lonely bed wishing, dreaming, fantasising. Like I said: pathetic.'

Kent takes a breath and another step back into the room. He steels himself to not show how successful she has been so far in targeting his vulnerability, his insecurity; it's almost as if she has a second sight deep into his soul.

'Oh so tortured', she murmurs with pleasure.

'What exactly is your problem?' Kent challenges her, his chest tight with a fury he feels he can barely keep in check.

Morgan stands and takes several steps towards him, that self-satisfied smile still fixed upon her lips, grating against Emerson's flesh even more.

'It seems you have an idea. Maybe you can tell me.' She leans towards Kent's ear and whispers 'and you better make it good, as I'm sure Joe will be interested to hear all about it.'

Hearing his name so easily slip from her lips as if she has the right to say it boils Kent's blood and he no longer cares about holding back.

'I know what you are! I know what you're trying to do! And I won't let you, you hear me?!' Kent leans into Morgan's space and hisses 'I won't let you hurt him. Not ever. You'll have to go through me first and trust me, you don't wanna do that.'

Instead of being shaken, or even being a little perturbed, the slowest smile creeps on to her face and she looks positively gleeful.

'Oh, Emerson - you don't mind if I call you Emerson, do you? - I just cannot wait to tell Joe about this. In fact, before I next see him, maybe I should take a walk out to the desk and report to the sergeant there that you just threatened me. I must say, I really don't feel safe with you. Maybe he can pass it on to Joe for me.'  Her smile chills the room.

Kent takes another long breath and clenches his jaw. 'Do what you want. Just know I'm keeping an eye on you. The boss won't fall for your crap, he's too smart for that. You won't win here.'

'We'll see.'

Kent turns and moves towards the door, his hand already on the handle.

'Except', she calls, snatching back his attention again, 'I'd say I already have. You see, there's something he hasn't told you.'

Kent lets his hand drop from the door and watches her closely and she moves back towards the chair she had just vacated. She smooths down the plastic bottoms of the suit and regards the constable with a bored indifference designed to pack a punch.

'He's coming home with me tonight', she announces, all the while boring into Emerson's eyes, waiting for his reaction.

'He - he wouldn't do that. He would never compromise his position.' Kent hears himself speaking the words so confidently and yet the frozen, heavy stone is still settling in his chest over where his heart speeds up painfully.

'Funny you mention positions. We'll be in plenty of different ones tonight.' She grins smugly as she takes in Kent's sickly pallor and his uncomfortable swallow; she leans in to twist the knife for the last time. 'And he won't be thinking of you at all. He never does anyway.'

Emerson Kent gasps in a breath as if struck by a cold hand. Against his will, his eyes sting with tears he cannot bear to shed in front of her triumphant smirk. He grabs the door handle again and launches himself pass the grief-stricken woman sitting on the bench by the door, clasping a sodden tissue. He does not see her, cannot feel anything but his own clawing pain, he does not even glance back when she slowly gets up and enters the interview room he just left. It is only when he is hurrying down the last flight of the stairs past the incident room and towards the main entrance that he hears the first scream.

Morgan Lamb lies bleeding and still on the floor. A hysterical and screaming middle-aged woman is held down by two officers and still clutching the same tissue; glass from the broken mirror scattered so innocuously by the body of the dead psychiatrist.

Kent knows he will never forget the look in his superior's eyes, nor the way DI Chandler could barely keep himself standing as he stumbled down the darkening corridor alone. Now every time Emerson closes his eyes all he can see is his boss, his friend, his love losing the light a virtual stranger had given him in a mere couple of days of speaking to her; something Kent had so longed to do in the near four years of working beside him. 

Every day now is a fresh heartache, a new loss, and more distance than Kent can ever calculate because he knows, knows that every time his Joe looks at him all he can see in his eyes is that it is Emerson's fault, and her death a void Kent can never fill. With every passing minute, he feels the tearing of what was once a shimmering hope within his chest now lie broken; and it is as final as the office door Joe closes on him every time he turns away.