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amlovelies · 2 years

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this is from a prompt I shame deleted in early 2021 and am now filling in mid 2022 because I write at a snails pass

#17 things you said that i wish you hadnt from this prompt list

Too honest

fandom: twc pairing: Nate Sewell/F!detective (Riley Jordan)/Morgan rating: M (really like older teen but I’d rather err on the side of caution) words: 1.2k read on ao3

The bar was not a place Nate could easily picture Riley. He had grown used to their long afternoons together in the library. To her face buried in a book, a pad at her side as she scribbled notes, ink covering her fingers and occasionally her face when she had to readjust her glasses. It’s a pleasant change, for all of the noise and bustle and whatever passes for music now days. She’s all smiles and laughter, catching up with old friends.

It’s a short walk back to the detective’s apartment. The streets of Wayhaven are peaceful, light gathering in the pools of rainwater, shimmering along the asphalt and painting the night in softness. Painting her in softness. It has been growing harder and harder for Nate to ignore the feelings Riley elicits within him: longing, regret and most of all guilt. Guilt that he should be feeling this way when she so clearly had feelings for someone else. Not just someone else, Morgan.

Morgan who he’d never seen like this before. Morgan who moved on so quickly, always seeking new pleasures, new distractions.

What sort of man wished a heartbreak on his friend? Wished that Morgan would fall back into her old patterns, and maybe just maybe there might be more than friendship in those long afternoons with Riley. He’d often wished for a companion, a partner, but never found someone he could envision that with, until now.

Fate was nothing if not cruel.

At least he has moments like this, walking in comfortable silence. She’s humming something he doesn’t recognize under her breathe. Steps a little unsteady from the wine she’d been drinking, or maybe just from dancing with the song in her head.

He opens his mouth preparing to ask about the artist, to horde more details of Riley and her life, but before he can her steps slow and then stop in front of the bakery.

Her eyers study her own reflection in the window. One hand reaches up to brush her cheek, contemplative, a small frown marring her features.

“Is something wrong?” He can’t sense anything, no dangers lurking in the shadows, something else must be going on.

Her voice is halting, quiet, “do you think I’m pretty Nate?”

“Riley, I think you are one of the most stunning creatures I have ever beheld.” He answers too quickly, without thinking, more honest than he intended.

She turns surprise evident on her face, “you’re full of it.” Brown eyes searching his face trying to gauge his sincerity.

“I assure you I am not.” Perhaps he should have gone for a more teasing tone. One that is light and friendly, but it’s hard to do so.

There’s a long list of things it is hard to do. Or hard not to do. Right now, Nate would like nothing more than to sweep Riley up in his arms, to kiss her breathless, to stare into her eyes, to make her understand how beautiful she is. How is he supposed to keep his tone light when it weighs so heavy on him?

“Oh,” she’s looking at him and he can hear the way her heart is accelerating, and hope sparks to life within him. “Nate, I--” she reaches out a hand placing it against his chest. Can she feel how his heart his hammering in his chest?

A long moment where she searches for words and Nate waits with baited breath. Wants to say something, to sweep her off her feet, but he can’t. She’s been drinking. He can smell the wine on her breathe, strong now with her this close. This moment, whatever it is, wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

He must do the right thing here. For Riley’s sake, for Morgan’s sake.

Her hand is small in his, delicate as he pulls it away, the cool night air rushing in to fill the void where her touch had once been. The urge is there, to place a kiss on the back of her hand, but he swallows it down and instead gives it a brief squeeze before releasing it.

“It’s late; we should get you home.”

Riley nods, eyes not meeting his and he mourns the loss, what he wouldn’t give to lose himself in their warm depths.

He only has a moments warning, the sound of familiar footfalls, before Morgan steps out of the shadows, “am I interrupting something?”

A small shriek erupts out of Riley, her hand flying to cover her mouth, “Morgan! You scared me half to death!”

He should have sensed her sooner. Too distracted by Riley, and what if she had been another supernatural? One intent on hurting Riley? He needs to be better, to be more careful, to not lose himself in far-fetched dreams and longings.

He didn’t expect her here, she still has a few hours of patrol left. Had she heard their voices and come to say hello? She never would have bothered with any of her old flings. Just more evidence that this is something more between them, something he shouldn’t get between.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Morgan drawls as she wraps an arm around Riley’s waist, “that’s not how I intended to make you scream.”

“Morgan!” Nate splutters, words failing him as his face heats. Wishes he could say it was just indignation and embarrassment at Morgan’s words, but he knows its more. “That’s highly inappropriate.”

“I am highly inappropriate,” she responds with a dry chuckle, “but Nate is right, we should get you home.” She doesn’t wait for a response, just starts walking, her arm still around Riley’s waist.

Nate watches them walk away unease sitting heavy in his stomach. How much had she overheard? They will have to talk after this, clear the air.

“Aren’t you joining us?” Morgan calls over her shoulder, her grin wicked, and he knows she overheard it all.

A small squeak escapes Riley, her eyes darting back between the two of them. Her heart rate skyrocketing, her skin heating, a hundred other small changes his vampire sense allow him a peek into. One he wishes he could ignore.

Has Riley thought about it? The three of them together? Images too easy to recall rise in his mind, walking in on them in the library. Lace against Riley’s skin, Morgan’s lips travel along her collarbone. . .

A raised eyebrow from Morgan as she waits for his response. He knows it’s no good trying to hide it from her. They’ve known each other too long, and their senses are too strong too attuned to each other after almost a century.

The smile grows larger across Morgan’s face and he needs to redirect this somehow.

“You’re more than capable of getting her home, no need for me to tag along,” he tries to keep his voice neutral, to push those thoughts away, to slow the rapid beat of his pulse. He doesn’t wait for their response, turns on his heel and retreats, but he can still feel the weight of Morgan’s gaze long after he is out of sight.

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