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turtletimewriting · 3 years

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Patton’s Adventure- Go Around

Summary: now that would be telling wouldn’t it.

Note: AY! I’m back from my break. Sorry about that again!

This is based on Fluffomatic’s idea of a Tickle Forest, so show some support!!!

The Beginning! --- Logan’s part!

_._._

“C’mon. Let’s be sensible about this. Let’s just go around,” Patton smiled as he started guiding them into the dense grass and bushes to walk around.

“Ew, when are you actually sensible,” Janus teased but truly he relaxed at that. He followed him without much thought.

Thankfully, the bears were all crowded in one group. They both stayed low to the ground and kept silent to see if another would walk by. If there was a group, then there may be more. Patton held his hand out to get him to stop. But there were no lumbering footsteps or any rustling. Nothing was coming. The bears were perfectly content to sit in the middle of the path, snuffling about and being generally cute. Patton waved all clear and then kept walking.

As much as he would much rather they run past the bears so to get past the danger as quickly as possible, Patton knew it would only get them chased down. Janus, regardless of what he said, was clearly tired.

Tickling always did that to him. If it lasted any longer than a quick swipe or pinch, then Janus would be found napping somewhere nearby afterwards. Patton couldn’t help his curling smile remembering how that was the very best part of tickling Janus. Immediate cuddling followed by taking a small self care nap. There was nothing that could beat that cozy warm feeling.

Janus hissed without thinking as they were now passing past the bears. Patton looked back at him with a wince. He shushed him as he awkwardly got down to his belly and crawled past the bears. That way they were a little more hidden and maybe they could play dead if they got found? Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best plan but then again it wasn’t like a lot of his plans had succeeded in this adventure.

They managed to crawl past without any incident. They continued to stalk through the overgrown grass until they could no longer see the bears. Then they excitedly fumbled back on to the path with bewildered looks.

“There was no way, that actually worked,” Janus gasped.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Patton twirled him around with a giggle, but he did make sure to keep his celebrations quiet. They really didn’t need to alert the bears right now. Janus smiled wide before tugging them down the path.

It was now setting into the evening. The sun had streaked across the sky and now everything was settling into a muted grey. The path was clearly defined with white flowers that seemed to glow despite the disappearing light. “They look like that motherbloom flower,” Patton pointed out uncertainly. They really did look like perfectly normal flowers and they didn’t react to him kicking at them. But they looked identical to the motherbloom’s flowers. It had to mean something.

Janus frowned as if this was the first time he was seeing them, “Didn’t it say something about that?”

Patton pulled out the sheet that was now very thoroughly crinkled but he pointed out the sentence where it explained that it could turn other flowers, “They’re not attacking us.”

“Well of course they look big enough to do any sort of damage to us.” Janus kicked at the tiny daisy looking flowers with disdain.

“I wouldn’t under estimate Remus and Roman if I were you,” Patton giggled.

“True. Do you think they could communicate?”

“What do you mean?” Patton frowned but now he felt the very distinct feeling of being watched.

“If the motherbloom can turn other flowers then what’s stopping them from almost, uh communicating. They could see any weak spots of ours and be able to tell the whole ‘queen’ of this place,” Janus awkwardly spoke, clearly embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

“Huh,” Patton hummed, “Well it might be a little too late to worry about that but then again, we’re the only team who knows about it.”

“Yes, they definitely don’t know about the motherbloom. Virgil was whining about how their sheet didn’t tell them much.” Janus smirked.

“Cheater!” Patton gasped. Janus laughed evilly and walked forward with a smirk.

They walked through the rest of the way with no distractions. But they both paused when they heard running water. Janus immediately pounced on Patton to wrangle to the map from him, and just ever so slightly tickling him on accident, only on accident of course. The map was very clear that the river was at the very end of their journey. They would have to cross the river and then a short walk until the massive obnoxious ‘X’.

“What do you think the treasure is?” Patton asked as he walked with a new increased sense of purpose.

“No clue. But I do suspect that one team will get a treasure from one creativity. For example, our treasure may be made by Roman while Logan’s was made by Remus. I can’t imagine them ever agreeing on what should be a reward.”

“Ooh! That would be fun!” Patton chirped.

Breaking through the woods into the river was immediately satisfying. All this time, it was very hard to keep track of where they were and to feel any sense of progress. But this was definitive progress. They had battled through all these tickles and were getting through this at a decent pace. Even with their little blips, it truly felt like they had made alright time.

The river was fairly calm and smelled strongly of the sea. Patton jumped down from the soil banks into the expanse of sand banks that lined the river. Childishly kicking the sand up, Patton turned back with a proud grin before pouncing over to a fallen over log. It was immediately soothing. The water wasn’t loud but just enough to be a quiet background noise.

“If I could propose a plan our great responsible leader,” Janus bowed down to a Patton standing over him on the log.

“Yeah JanJan?”

“You created the rule that we have to sleep a full 8 hours in the adventure so I propose we should create a camp here. I feel like we’ll get wet no matter what when getting through the river so we should sleep now before our clothes get all wet,” Janus reasoned as if the bags under his eyes and droopy sleepy demeaner wasn’t enough of an excuse to sleep.

Patton jumped down and snapped his fingers. Janus then immediately yelped as he dragged to the floor by a sudden weight on his back. That weight was a camping bag filled with supplies and a sleeping bag. “Oh! Sorry, JanJan!” Patton squeaked.

“You did that on purpose!” Janus said as he grabbed Patton’s hand and pulled him down into the sand too. Patton squawked but got his revenge pretty swiftly by dumping sand in Janus’ hat and plopping it on his head.

After they finished all of that, Janus stood up to see what would be a good place to sleep and noticed a little hut down the beach. They both jogged up to it only to stop. It was a little shop. A little rundown wooden hut with a bright tacky sign proclaiming Beach Stuff! It was lined with frumpy dad sun hats and inflatables. “Hello there young gentlemen!” The owner cried out with a wide grin.

“Hello there!” Patton answered but Janus stopped them from walking to the shop.

“We should focus on camping first then tomorrow we can organise if we need to buy anything.”

“Good point. But I feel like we definitely need to use floaties to get across!”

“Hmm, it seems too convenient.” Janus guided them both away to the soil bank again.

They found a small gap in the trees and ferns that was off the sand. It was a small walk to the shop again. It was perfect.

Patton occupied himself with the dad task of building a fire and starting to heat up some bacon while Janus was the actual responsible one by setting up the tent. If he also summoned an actual bed cover rather than the measly sleeping bag then that was his own business. He rolled his eyes at the neon blue tent and the mustard tent side by side. Of course Patton would summon their colours.

“What should be our plan? I feel like now we can actually sit down and think about this, we should create a good plan.” Janus wiped his forehead as he slumped down next to Patton.

“I do think the floaties would be the easiest way. It avoids us going into the water which may contain more tickle loving creatures and we don’t get wet!”

“Why are you so worried about getting wet? You’re literally secretly a giant frog,” Janus deadpanned.

“Yeah, but you’re not!” Patton responded with a wounded look.

“Well I don’t think we should use the inflatables as it seems too obvious. I’m unfortunately very aware of Remus’ tricks and this screams a trick.”

“That is true but I don’t see what else should we do? Swimming across just seems like a mistake,” Patton argued, actually using some logic and reasoning.

“We could... uh... maybe the shop has some specialised swim suits! This is a world based on a certain childish activity and so there must be ways they still function. How do divers work in this world!” Patton nodded along but he still frowned.

“We’ll decide in the morning, I think we’re both tired and hungry. Let’s take this one step at a time!”

They ate quickly as Janus was practically falling over asleep into the fire. Settling into the tents and of course saying goodnight, they both snuggled into their blankets.

Snuggling as they fell asleep, completely unaware of their bug companions they picked up when literally crawling around the grass floor of a tickle world.

This adventure took: 30 minutes!

Total time taken: 1 hour and 23 minutes!

And there we are!! Time to decide again...

A) Use the floaties B) Use the swimsuits

#TicklyAdventure #Tickling #ts patton #ts janus #ts deceit #turtle writing

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hotelsweet · 6 years

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you might kill me with desire - chapter 5

yeah that’s right I’m updating this less than a month since I last updated it!!!! maybe I’m actually capable of regularly writing,,, who’s to say

ao3 link

***

For the first time in a long time, Jake’s woken up by the feeling of sunlight on his face.

Just for a second, he panics- there’s no way he should be awake late enough that the sun is coming through the windows. He jolts awake, forcing his eyes open, already fearing the lecture he’ll receive from Amy when he arrives at the office. Instead, he finds himself on her couch.

Last night comes back all at once- bringing her home from the office, spending the very last of his cash on that cab, hearing her tell him she loves him.

Hearing her tell him she loves him.

As if by magic, the sunlight warming his skin feels like nothing in comparison to the feeling rushing under his skin. She said it back. Amy said it back. He’s wanted to hear those words for so long.

For the first time since this case started, their relationship feels somewhat… peaceful. He savours it- if the last eight weeks are anything to go by, they’ll have either had sex or broken into another argument by the early afternoon, so it’s probably worth enjoying the calm while it lasts.

The pale orange light filling the apartment is the first departure from winter Jake’s known in months. The harshness of darkness and cold only ever become obvious once things lighten up, though, he thinks. There’s something indescribably comforting about waking up in Amy’s apartment with the sun.

Down the hall he hears her footsteps. Sitting up, he realises she hasn’t turned on the coffee machine yet- otherwise it’d be whirring in that odd way he doesn’t like- and decides to make some for the both of them. As he ambles into her kitchenette he wonders if there’s anything he could cook, or even if she’s got some bread to toast. Better yet- a pop-tart to toast.

The cupboards are agonizingly empty, and her fridge is a disaster, save for a couple of takeout boxes stacked together on the middle shelf. With her level of organisation, the state of her kitchen seems practically impossible. But things haven’t been normal lately.

When the first cup of coffee is finished he replaces the cup on the stand and takes the first. He can’t find food, but he can bring Amy her coffee. It’s the minimum he should be offering her for letting him stay the night, and there’s no way in hell the bodega across the street is open yet, so there’s little to no chance of making her a decent meal.

The world seems slow, not quite awake, Jake thinks- exactly like him. His eyes are still a little heavy and he’s pretty sure his hair is sticking up in ten wrong directions, but he’s already thinking about saying good morning to her, asking whether she slept well and if she still feels the same as she did last night and if she, too, has woken up to find the world in technicolour.

He knocks on her door, but she’s already opening it, resulting in a mutual look of surprise.

Amy looks incredible. For a moment, Jake’s breath hitches in his throat, a surge of longing for her sinking and settling deep within him. She’s wearing her robe, a soft thing hanging over her body in a navy satin which perfectly complements the skin it leaves exposed. He’s not sure he’s ever seen it before; it feels intimate, a detail he’s been allowed in on by being here at this hour in the morning, by knowing she’s comfortable enough to wear anything around him. It’s when he catches himself focusing on the tendrils of hair escaping the low bun she’s scraped her hair into that he realises he’s staring.

“Oh- hey,” he stammers. “Morning. I got you a coffee.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, gratitude falling over her face. “You’re amazing.”

Her voice is a little hoarse, just a bit lower than usual- regularly Jake would take this voice as indication of a bad night’s sleep, but right now he’s only half-ashamed to admit to himself that it’s kind of turning him on.

“I’m honestly just proud I knew how to use the machine.”

Amy tilts her head, looking at him oddly. For a moment he thinks he sees a small smile flash over her face.

“You use it every time you’re here.”

She’s right, obviously, but quite frankly Jake’s struggling to speak, let alone make any sense. He was proud of that line about operating the coffee machine. Mildly self-deprecating humour, early morning humour- as far as he’s concerned he nailed it.

“Thank you,” she adds, smiling warmly. He wonders if the knowing look in her eyes is because she can tell he’s nervous as fuck or if it’s because she’s genuinely just pleased about the coffee. Quite honestly, he doesn’t care.

In the kitchen, the coffee machine pings happily. Jake’s espresso is finished.

“C’mon,” Amy says, still smiling, pushing past him into the hall. “We have a full forty-five minutes before we need to leave.”

“We’re living a life of luxury here,” Jake manages, not turning around for fear of how he’ll feel when he sees what she looks like from behind in that robe. He waits for five paces, then follows her.

Amy slides into a seat at her table, making the kind of noises while she sips at her coffee that’d make anyone think she’s been handed the nectar of the gods. For the sake of his own confidence, Jake tries not to let himself compare the faces she’s making as she drinks it with the faces she made the last time they slept together. This could be the first time in his life he’s been jealous of a cup of coffee.

“So.”

“So,” Jake replies, leaning against the counter nearest to her.

“Last night,” she says, pausing for another sip, “I think I may have found something.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t get excited,” she holds up her hand. “It could be nothing.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not something. What is it?”

“Okay,” she starts, seriousness falling over her face. “Kristoff was married twice, right? Emilia was his second wife.”

Jake nods, aware that she’s got more to say and not wanting to interrupt.

“We know nothing about this first wife. Because nobody in the family has even mentioned her.”

“We’ve never even looked,” Jake affirms, which is when he starts to see the same gap Amy’s seeing.

“So… there’s potential. Nobody ever talks about her. What if she was still linked to Kristoff somehow?”

“Oh, I love that.”

“I know, right?” She grins.

“Kristoff’s family life was a nightmare. If he was a dick to his first wife, too-”

“- She might want revenge. Exactly what I was thinking,” she explains.

“I kind of feel guilty for going to the bar with Charles while you were basically solving this case on your own,” Jake says apologetically. To his delight, this only resurrects the huge smile which was on Amy’s face a few minutes ago.

“Sometimes it’s best to leave the professionals to do their jobs,” she smiles tartly. He raises his eyebrows, which only makes her chuckle. “Kidding. Like I said, it might be nothing.”

“I bet it’s not.”

Amy smiles into her coffee.

***

“Emilia Clare is in your office waiting for you.”

After a relatively breezy, optimistic morning, Jake can say with some certainty that this is not what either of them were expecting to walk into when they arrived at the office this morning. They both look at each other, exchanging a strange look, before they’re hurrying down the hall towards Pembroke’s office, without a word in reply to the young administrator who broke the news.

Sure enough, Emilia’s stood in the main portion of the office, directly in front of Pembroke’s desk. The first thing Jake notices is the stiffness of her posture, the way she’s holding herself as if she’s having to hold back from starting a fight. Conveniently, Pembroke is nowhere to be seen. Makes sense- it’s a Friday morning, which means he’s likely attempting to pick up women at the gym. Correction: harassing women at the gym.

“Emilia, hi-”

Amy’s greeting is abruptly cut short the second Emilia sees the two of them, fire catching in her eyes.

“Don’t hi me. You know I’m furious. Where’s Pembroke?”

“He’s…” Jake looks at Amy exasperatedly, as he tries to find a suitable excuse. “He’s out of the office this morning. How can we help?”

Emilia just stares at him, speechless, as if he’s just suggested jumping from the top of the building for fun.

“Are you seriously going to play dumb?” She asks after a moment.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Clare,” Amy offers, “but we don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Have either of you even opened your phones this morning? Twitter? Instagram?”

“We don’t… really…” Amy falters apologetically.

“Angelica’s in hospital.” Emilia finally gives in with a sigh, clearly at a loss. Her index finger and thumb go to the bridge of her nose in perhaps the only overt display of distress Jake’s ever seen from her. “It’s everywhere, obviously, and it’s because of information you made public. For no good reason.”

“I don’t understand…” Jake finds himself thinking out loud. Obviously, Daniel had told him about Angelica being in therapy, but as far as Jake knows that information hasn’t been passed onto anyone not involved in the investigation. He, Pembroke, and Amy are essentially the only ones who should know.

He glances over at Amy, whose face has completely dropped- despite this, he can see she’s trying to hold herself back, remain professional. If he knows her at all then she’s having just as hard a time as him.

“Is she okay?” She asks quietly.

“She will be.” Emilia says simply.

“Who leaked it?” Jake interjects, sensing the flash of anger in Emilia’s voice.

“It was on Twitter, last night.” Emilia rolls her eyes as she opens her phone, “Some empty account- you know, an egg- put up a picture of one of Angie’s therapy records.”

She holds up her phone, and, sure enough, there’s a scan of one of Angelica’s medical records. Jake can’t help but notice that whoever’s put it up has taken the time to blur most of the sensitive information, leaving behind only the important stuff- feelings of hopelessness, difficulties with substance abuse, et cetera. Whoever did this didn’t want to get in serious trouble.

“Wait,” Amy interjects after a moment, concern in her voice. “So why’s Angelica in hospital?”

“She went on a total bender last night,” Emilia admits sadly, her voice lower now. “Had her stomach pumped. Alcohol poisoning. There are pictures all over the internet. She’s devastated.”

Jake’s heart sinks at the thought of it. It’s their responsibility to keep this information under wraps and now they’ve put somebody in danger by letting it slip through their fingers.

“Emilia, we will do everything we can to figure out who did this,” he tries to reassure her, unsure if it’s of any use at this stage.

“And have them fired immediately,” Amy adds. A tad overkill, Jake thinks, seeing as neither of them have anything even close to that kind of power, but the sentiment is sincere.

It takes a little while before Emilia has calmed down and left- by the time she’s gone, Jake and Amy have been in the office for over an hour, and made far too many promises they can’t necessarily keep.

“I just don’t get how this happened,” Amy laments for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m running the IP on the account that tweeted the document,” Jake says, indirectly attempting to make her feel better. “Should give us an idea.”

“It could be anyone, once the information’s out,” Amy replies dismissively. “God, y’know what would be really useful? If our boss was here.”

“I miss Holt too.”

She pauses.

“I meant Pembroke.”

“Oh, right,” Jake realises. Obviously. “Wait.” He sits up.

“What?”

“The IP address.”

“What about it?”

Jake looks into Pembroke’s portion of the office. Still empty.

“It’s ours.”

Amy sighs.

“It was Pembroke.” Her voice is quiet, but sure.

“Why would he-”

“We both know,” Amy cuts in. “We’re losing momentum and if information like this gets leaked it makes it seem like the family’s hiding things from us, not that we’re crappy detectives.”

Jake nods solemnly.

“He doesn’t want the FBI taking our case.”

They both pause for a second, the realisation of what’s been done, the position Angelica’s been put in, sinking in.

“We have until the end of the weekend, right?” Amy asks after a minute or so.

“Right.” Jake watches her, curious as to where she’s taking this.

“I think we have to do this alone.”

***

“You do realise you’re sharing confidential information with two detectives not assigned to your case, right?”

Rosa, ever monotonous, just raises her eyebrows at Amy.

“I know that,” Amy replies nervously. “Obviously.”

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t freaking out too bad about breaking the rules,” Rosa shrugs, leaning back in her seat.

Jake takes a second to look at Amy. Rosa’s right, obviously- there’s panic rooted deep in Amy’s wide eyes, but she’s holding herself together remarkably well.

“We can’t do this under Pembroke’s surveillance anymore,” Jake affirms. Amy looks at him gratefully. “He’s making everything worse.”

“Tell us what you need us to do. We’ll help in any way we can, Jakey,” Charles adds, pity in his voice.

Charles and Rosa were quick to agree to meet the two of them for lunch. Jake’s hardly surprised- they’ve had no real regular contact for a couple of months now, so an urgent call to meet them during their lunch break must have seemed pretty strange. After Amy had suggested progressing with the case under Major Crimes’ nose, they’d both agreed they’d need backup- investigating a high-stakes case alone is reckless. Doing it without any support is plain stupid.

“We think we may have a lead. But we need to follow it without anyone knowing,” Amy explains simply. Jake knows this stage of stress well- she’s forcing an air of practicality now, pushing her way through it. He’s nervous too, but he knows he cares ten times less about going behind Pembroke’s back. He resists the urge to reach under the table and hold her hand.

“We’re heading to the estate this afternoon to go through Kristoff’s office again. We’re looking for information about his first wife. She’s pretty much hidden herself away,” he explains, largely so Amy doesn’t have to.

“Don’t blame her,” Rosa mumbles.

“Yeah.” Amy says meekly, the realities of this family’s life hanging thick in the air. “Anyway. As long as you guys know where we are and what we’re doing, then we’re safe, right?”

“Guaranteed.” Rosa nods once, looking sincerely over at Amy. Charles nods too. Jake’s centre warms at their loyalty.

“Thank you, guys. And remember- you can’t tell Terry or Holt unless things go south,” Jake adds. “Neither of them would approve of us messing with protocol.”

“Oh god,” Amy groans at the mention of her superiors.

“Isn’t Gina gonna be pretty pissed she’s not involved?” Rosa asks casually.

“Actually, I kind of told her,” Jake confesses.

“You did what?” Amy’s voice raises slightly. She glares into him.

“Not details,” he backpedals, “just that we’re going incognito. She loves it.”

Amy rolls her eyes.

“Hey! Rosa said it herself, she’d be mad if I didn’t tell her!”

“She’s your friend, I get it. I just don’t want her to tell Holt.” Amy sighs, bringing her fourth coffee of the day to her lips.

A moment of quiet rests amongst them. Normally, Jake thinks, conversation would resume naturally, but they’ve had the natural catching up that comes with colleagues you see on a daily basis. Internally he tries to think of something to say. How’re Charles and Genevieve? Rosa and Marcus? At this stage, even a disgusting story about Scully and Hitchcock would feel homely.

Luckily, Rosa fills the silence.

“So,” she starts. She looks up, between Amy and Jake, and rare smile pulls at her lips. “Heard you two finally banged it out.”

Amy’s eyes widen in a look of sheepish confusion Jake might find amusing were it not for the disappointed look he’s throwing Charles, who shrugs apologetically.

“Sorry, guys. I got too excited!”

“First time in an elevator? Congratulations, you two.” Rosa grins. Jake’s heart drops. To his side he hears a small gasp leave Amy’s lips. “Scandalous.”

“Jake!”

“He’s my best friend!”

***

“Ida Cohen… Ida Cohen.”

Amy glances up from the box she’s sorting through and looks over at Daniel, who’s repeating the name of Kristoff’s first wife like he’s trying to memorise it.

Between his fingers he holds the only picture they’ve found of this woman: a polaroid taken over thirty years ago.

While her and Jake dig through Kristoff’s office, looking for every and any piece of evidence that might tie him to his first wife, Daniel- acting quite contrarily to his former position as Kristoff’s assistant- is being absolutely no help.

She wonders if he’s ever had to be part of something this serious- she hopes not, for Kristoff’s sake. It’s hard not to think this kid is all bark and no bite- he can’t be older than late twenties, he’s good-looking, has been making ridiculous money for years under one of the most sought-after employers in the working world, and yet he can’t hold up under pressure for more than about ten seconds.

They’ve been here for almost an hour now, two if you include the drive- and to absolutely no avail. Unsurprisingly, there’s no evidence whatsoever of Kristoff’s first wife in the huge house

“I know it, I swear. I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere.” He looks around the room in hard concentration. “Did you try looking at his accounts?”

Amy sighs, perhaps a little too audibly to remain polite. Daniel shrugs, blushing a little, and guilt immediately seeps into her chest.

“Sorry. Kristoff’s bank records were the first thing we looked at,” she explains calmly.

“What did the rest of the family say?” Daniel keeps going, his voice a little nervous now, for the first time since Amy met him. “Wait, can I ask that?”

“Not really,” she says, “but it doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve got nothing.”

“Nobody wants anything to do with Ida,” Jake cuts in, almost under his breath- “Which only makes us want to see if she has any information even more.”

“Kristoff and Ida got married then divorced almost exactly three years later. Simple as that,” Amy groans. She puts the lid back on the box she’s been looking through. “This is useless.”

“Did they live here? In New York, I mean.” Daniel asks with an air of innocence.

“New Hampshire. We’re pretty sure she’s still there now.”

“Oh.” Daniel’s face changes into something Amy can’t quite pinpoint. She watches him for a moment.

“Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I noticed Angelica had a kind of fixation with this charity here. I feel like the owner’s name was Ida. Maybe Irene.”

Jake looks over at Amy, eyes narrowed.

“Why would Angelica want to reach out to her father’s ex-wife?” He asks simply.

Daniel shrugs, looking between the two detectives blankly.

“That’s for you to answer, right?” When a silence falls in the room he shifts a little awkwardly. “I’m gonna go grab a drink from outside. Can I get you guys a coffee?”

Amy nods politely.

“Thanks,” she says quietly, and like that he’s left the room.

“How’s he been so useful until now?” Jake says, a little too soon for Amy’s liking. She brings her gloved finger to her lips, silently shushing him.

“Maybe he’s just overwhelmed. We’ve kind of bombarded him,” she says quietly, opening another box.

There’s a short pause. Out of the corner of her eye Amy sees Jake’s brows knotted together in thought.

“I have this weird feeling about New Hampshire. Did we see something to do with New Hampshire?”

She thinks about it for a second, hard, but nothing comes to mind. Perhaps she’s just tired.

“Was it the accounts?”

“Maybe. It’s probably nothing,” he brushes it off, shaking his head. She watches him, concerned. Jake never throws off a hunch. “Kind of weird how much this dude stashed in here.”

He’s holding a box of what appears to be old memorabilia- from the other side of the office Amy can see a couple of loose photos, an old leaflet, and what may even be a receipt. It’s a strange sight- even now it’s difficult to picture Kristoff as a sentimental man. After all, all she’s experienced of him is his business persona, accounts of a mildly abusive relationship with his son, and his dead body. She’s not to blame if she finds it a little tough to picture him stashing away keepsakes in his office.

“Do you think he was in here often?” Amy wonders out loud.

For a second they both take in the real magnitude of the office. The only word that comes to mind, Amy thinks, is presidential; just sitting on other sides of the room, she and Jake almost need to raise their voices to hear each other. A thick, ornate carpet fills almost the entire floor. It’s probably worth a year of her rent. The desk sits in front of the floor-to-wall window overlooking the estate. There’s something eerie about the night sky and the pitch black of the gardens beneath the window being exposed to the room like that- for a second Amy has a strong urge to close the curtains.

“Who knows,” Jake says softly. “Don’t super rich people mostly have rooms like this so they can show it off?”

“That’s what I thought, until we found all this.”

Jake hums in agreement, then goes back to his box.

“Hey, check out Emilia’s old haircut. It’s so 2004 you’re going to lose your mind,” he grins, tossing a photo across the room.

Amy picks it up with a small smile and for the first time in a few days allows herself a moment of genuine amusement. Jake’s right- the pixie cut, low-rise jeans, and thin scarf Emilia’s sporting in this city candid is painfully reminiscent of the 2000s, and almost impossible to match with the elegant, appropriately-dressed woman who came to see them in the office this morning.

As if by magic, the small moment of relief disappears- picturing Emilia only reminds her of why they’re even here in the first place, and all she can picture is Angelica in hospital.

“Is it just me, or is Daniel taking extra-long with those coffees?�� She breaks the silence, laughing awkwardly. Jake smiles knowingly, a sad look in his eyes, and for a moment she feels a little self-conscious, knowing he’s read exactly what she’s thinking just by looking at her. No words required.

“To be fair, he has to walk three miles to get back to the office from the coffee machine.” Jake mutters.

A giggle finds its way out of Amy’s chest.

Eventually Daniel’s footsteps are audible from the hallway.

“I forgot how you take it, so they’re both black. Is that okay?” He smiles apologetically.

“Perfect,” Amy smiles. “Thank you for your help this evening, Daniel. You didn’t have to come out all the way with us.”

No, really, she thinks- you didn’t. She watches him smile appreciatively and feels a little bad. He’s been almost entirely useless all night. They’d only even asked him to be here in case he knew where anything especially secret would be in the office, or the combination for any safes they might come across. That, and the fact that they’re currently sneaking around without telling their boss, so time has been of the essence. The fact of it all is that, until tonight, Daniel has known it all.

“How long are you guys going to keep trying in here?” Daniel asks. If it were anyone else Amy might find it a little condescending, but he sounds genuinely intrigued.

Amy shrugs, unable to provide an answer. They’ve ransacked every single box in this room.

“Oh!”

Jake’s sudden outburst makes her jump.

“What is it?!”

“New Hampshire Institute of Art!” Jake shouts. “Remember?”

She shakes her head. For a moment she even looks at Daniel, but his expression is equally absent.

“The accounts. Every year Kristoff made a pretty sizeable ‘donation’ to the New Hampshire Institute of art,” Jake explains energetically, waving his hands around in air quotes, “but what if it wasn’t a donation?”

“Go on…”

“The polaroid-” He continues urgently, gesturing towards Daniel, who pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to him immediately. “Look at Ida’s dungarees.”

He holds the picture directly in front of Amy’s face.

“God, so 80s,” she mutters.

“Anything special about them?” Jake asks, eyes wide, his mouth already splaying into a grin.

“Wait, is that paint-”

“PAINT! She’s covered in paint!” Jake beams.

Amy grabs her phone from her pocket and immediately looks up the website for the New Hampshire Institute of Art, navigating the pages as quickly as possible in an attempt to find somebody in charge, a list of staff, until, sure enough-

“Ida Cohen! Exhibitions Director and Art Handler!” Amy jumps up, showing Jake her phone screen.

For a second they both stare at each other, and then at the phone, and then at each other again, in total disbelief. Jake beams, almost laughing. For a moment she forgets they’re not the only people in the room.

“What now?” Jake asks, as if snapping out of a trance.

Amy looks down at her phone. The website’s rolling slideshow flicks onto a new picture.

“Road trip.” Amy smiles.

“Right now?”

She checks the time. 7pm.

“If go now we can find her tomorrow morning.”

“We have no change of clothes,” he says, almost laughing.

“We’ll find some!”

She beams. Normally she’d never make a plan this last-minute, and he knows that, but this is a lead, and they’ve only got two days to follow it through before the case is taken away from them, and even if it takes them nowhere it’s still something- and each of these thoughts must be showing on her face right now, because Jake seems like he wants in.

“Okay,” he smiles. “Okay! Let’s go!”

“Okay!” She cringes at how childlike her voice sounds, but the feeling’s gone in under a second- for some reason, this feels like a spontaneous adventure, and not an integral part of her literal adult job.

Daniel clears his throat awkwardly in the corner of the room, before finally piping up.

“So… I guess I’ll just get an uber.”

***

It’s been years since Amy’s driven on near-empty roads. Maybe she should be enjoying it, but all she can think about is how everything looks completely the same, it’s way too dark, and her grip on the steering wheel hasn’t shifted for enough time that one of her arms is starting to cramp up.

“Jake? How long left?”

Her voice is quieter, hoarser than she’d expected, which is when she realises she’s not spoken for a good hour. Maybe more.

“Jake,” she says, a little louder- but, glancing over at him, she realises that he’s fallen asleep.

His arms are folded over his chest, the sleeves of his button-down somewhat crinkled after a day’s wear. He’s leaning into the space between the top of his seat and the window, his head falling back into a position Amy only worries will hurt his neck. In the dark of the car her stomach flutters at the fleeting sight of his dark eyelashes and exposed neckline.

Eyes back on the road, she resolves not to disturb him.

All at once, seemingly out of nowhere, it sinks in. How much everything’s changed. How she can look over at him in the middle of the night and know exactly what the bare skin of his neck tastes like, and how his breathing will change once he really falls asleep, and how he’ll sound first thing in the morning when it’s just him and her. Him, and her, and this interminable case.

Only the other night she told him she loved him. Her insides fizz nervously at the memory of it. Yesterday, Amy. It was yesterday. But it feels like last week. Things have been so intense that the days have melted into months; day-to-day life seems distant, unattainable. An ache rises in her chest at the thought of the precinct. She misses it more than anything.

On top of that, though, is that ugly guilt that’s sat within her this entire time. The feeling that she’s not done enough for Emilia or Angelica. For anyone, really. The aching in her chest blazes at the thought of Angelica in hospital. They’ve progressed, but not nearly enough, and for Angelica and Emilia it must feel like purgatory. Constantly waiting to find out what happened to half of their family.

Jake hums softly.

“I’m awake,” he almost whispers.

Amy glances over. His eyes are still closed, so she decides not to reply. If he wants to sleep, he should- god knows the two of them need it.

“Did you ask something? Before?” He asks sleepily.

“Don’t worry,” she smiles over. He’s still got his eyes shut.

“No, go on.”

She smiles to herself.

“I was just wondering how far we are.”

“Oh man,” he stirs, sitting up next to her. “I’ve failed in my role as designated Google Maps navigator.”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees his phone light up.

“You were given the option to leave your unlocked phone on the dashboard, so I could see it.”

“And give you full access to my phone? Nice try.”

“Fair,” she laughs, envisaging the messages she could have sent to the group text-chain.

“We’re not far,” he reassures her. “Like, twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes? Shouldn’t I be coming off the freeway soon?” Amy feels herself begin to panic. “Did I miss the exit? Where’s the motel?”

“I didn’t search for a specific motel, I just had it taking us to the city centre,” he admits. “I’ll find one now.”

After he’s found a motel about five minutes back from their current location, and she’s given a minute-long, exhaustion-fuelled lecture on why they should have known exactly where they are going in the first place, they’re on their way. Luckily, Jake’s time estimate was near-perfect, and it takes exactly- he times it- five minutes to get there.

The place is eerily quiet. Miserably quiet, Amy thinks, like something’s not right. But it’s nearing midnight, so for tonight, it’s home.

Despite the feeling of the entrance, the motel is surprisingly… decent. Their room’s small, and the sheets look cheap, and there’s not much in the name of hospitality (see: the one towel, and single complimentary sachet of shampoo) but everything’s new- judging by the smell of paint, she’d guess it’s been newly renovated.

“I think I’ll shower,” she says quietly once they’re inside, dropping her bag on the bed. “Oh, want me to steam any of your clothes?”

“Steam?”

Jake, who’s already flopped face-first onto the bed, turns over and gives her an odd look.

“You don’t have a change of clothes,” she explains, thinking gratefully of the spare pantsuit she’s brought in from her car. “If I hang them in the bathroom while I shower, they’ll at least smell nice tomorrow. And they’ll be crinkle-free,” she adds, arguably with a tad too much excitement in her voice.

“Crinkle-free?!” Jake teases. “I’m sold.”

“Shut up.”

He stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt, facing away from her as he pulls it off his shoulders. After a moment Amy realises she’s watching him. In silence.

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” she says quietly, smiling politely even though he’s not looking at her. “Just knock when you’re done.”

With the bathroom door closed behind her, Amy realises she’s been holding her breath.

There’s something about being around him, even in boring, little moments like this, that sets her alight. Sure, the constant-tiredness-plus-emotionally-intense-case thing isn’t doing her any favours, but the truth of it is evident whenever she’s alone and vulnerable with him.

With just enough room to move around, she begins to undress. It’s an odd layout for a bathroom- the toilet is wedged in next to the sink, which might not seem so cramped were it not for the massive counter in which the sink is set. On the other side of the room is the shower, and a tall towel rack, perfect for Amy’s steaming plan. She slings her blouse over the already-warm metal with satisfaction.

Slipping out of her clothes is sweet relief- she’s been wearing them for almost 18 hours now, and the air against her skin feels practically blissful. It’s the little things, she thinks, wondering how, as a woman in her thirties, her daily dose of happiness comes from standing half-naked in a motel bathroom.

Jake’s knock at the door jolts her out of her tired haze.

“Hi!”

Perhaps a tad too enthusiastic, Ames, she thinks, her internal monologue somehow rolling its eyes at her.

He smirks amusedly at the greeting.

“Hi.”

For some reason, despite the fact he’s stood in front of her in his boxers, Amy feels incredibly bare. Oddly, it’s not often that they’re stood chatting in motel rooms in their underwear. Jake offers her a small pile of clothes.

“I tried to fold them.” He winces, looking at the oddly-folded stack of clothes in his hands.

“You didn’t need to do that, I’m just gonna hang them up.” Amy smiles, taking them from him.

She slings his clothes over the towel rack as slowly as she can, just to see if he’ll leave the doorway. He doesn’t. Her heart is pounding now, hard enough that she can feel it in her chest.

“Maybe I just wanted to show off my folding skills,” Jake offers, but he seems miles away from what he’s saying. He’s distracted, and, for the first time in her life, Amy’s sure that she’s the reason why.

She stands in front of him in the doorway.

It can’t be more than a few seconds that they stand there, motionless, staring into each other’s eyes, but it feels like a year. Every part of her is awake, and every part of her wants him. She loves him- that’s it, she thinks, she can say that now- and it’s the most perfect feeling in the whole world.

“Anyway,” Amy breaks the silence, smiling tartly. “I need to shower.”

“Oh, right-” Jake agrees, raising his eyebrows as he snaps out of it, blushing slightly.

Amy laughs, cutting him off.

“I’m kidding,” she giggles, lifting herself up onto her toes and pulling him into a kiss. He responds immediately, his hands slipping round her waist and pulling her into him.

“Tease.” He laughs against her lips.

Instantly, she’s back in paradise: hearing his voice this close to her again, hearing the want in his voice from just one word uttered into her ear. He’s all hers.

Jake’s grip firms around her, and as quickly as this all started she feels him guiding her to the sink, walking her backwards towards the counter. She follows his lead, lifting herself onto the counter with her hands so she’s sat in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He takes the moment just to look at her, and Amy’s never felt more exposed in her entire life. His eyes are dark, sincere, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt more wanted in her life. She has to stop herself from letting all the words in her head overflow at once; I want you, I love you, you’re beautiful- she doesn’t know where to start.

So instead, she kisses him softly, sweetly, wrapping her arms around his neck and hoping he knows somehow what it means to her. What he means to her.

Time disappears while they’re here together; the outside world has vanished. There’s no case, there’s no Vulture, there’s nothing corrupt or stressful or pressured. There’s only him, and his tongue in her mouth, and his fingers on her skin, pinching at the clasp of her bra until it comes free.

He starts his way down her neck, trailing hot kisses along her jawline. His grip tightens around her waist while he sucks at a sweet spot over her chest- he’s learning, she realises, remembering the last time they were together and the reaction she’d let slip when he’d come across it. It seems impossible that someone so disorganised could be this good at multitasking, she thinks, sighing at the gentle stroking of her back and the hotness of his mouth on her neck.

“Jake-”

His name escapes her when his hand circles round to her front and dips under the hem of her underwear- just enough for the sensation to surprise her, have her melt just that little bit more.

It occurs to her in this moment that he’s pampering her, that she’s getting all the attention- and it’s perfect, but the urge to give back washes over her without thinking. Before she knows it she’s wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him in closer, letting her hands run over his bare chest and up into his hair, pulling softly at the curls resting on the nape of his neck as he kisses her.

Languidly she allows her free hand to travel downwards, wasting no time with the teasing he’d demonstrated only a minute ago. Jake gasps into her mouth, a soft groan coming from the back of his throat that Amy tries painfully hard to savour. Having her fingers wrapped around him only makes her feel more powerful- he’s hot under her fingertips, and the more she moves the more he groans into her skin.

It’s your turn, she thinks, feeling him relax into her. She mimics the movements he was using, kissing her way from his neck to his chest, sucking hard over his collarbone. He groans, muttering her name under his breath, which only encourages her more- she lets herself bite softly at his skin. He gasps, his breath sinking into his chest. Internally, she wonders if she’s left a mark.

She tries to slip off the counter and back onto her feet so she can get down in front of him, but Jake seems to figure out what she’s trying to do before she manages it and keeps her upright, securing his hands around her waist again.

“No, you.” His hands go to her hips, thumbs slipping back under the hem of her underwear.

Truthfully, her mind is past the point of foreplay- she stops his hands with her own and pushes the last of her clothing off and around her knees. She looks at him, eyes flickering downwards and then back- his expression changes, as if surprised at how quickly she’s moving.

“You sure?”

“Mm,” she nods, kissing him softly. “You?”

“Yeah- yes,” he stammers, smiling bashfully.

“Good,” she hums, shifting herself forward and pulling him towards her.

Amy’s not tired anymore. She’s electrified, every millimetre of her on fire, and she’s entirely lost sight of everything and anything that isn’t Jake; her brain has been wiped clean, the only prevailing thought or action being the man in front of her. Nothing exists except the two of them.

She never wants to fall asleep and wake up to Ida and Kristoff and Emilia and Angelica and a city of eyes on her and Jake and their case. Every move she makes is in a bid to come closer to him, until it’s not physically possible anymore, pressed up against him so hard that even half an inch closer might cause his bones to snap under the pressure of her grip.

She never wants to know anything except the feeling of him moving in and around her. The scent of his skin. The taste of his lips. She’d rather live on the floor of this bathroom with only him, for the rest of her life, than have to go home.

Eventually all her thoughts switch off, until the only three words able to appear in her brain become stuck on repeat for the rest of the night.

Don’t let go.

***

The first thing Jake notices when he wakes up is not the intimacy of the beautiful woman resting on his chest. Nor is it the warmth of the sun sifting into the room through the blinds. Even the blissful rested feeling he hasn’t felt in a good couple of weeks goes amiss.

Why?

His muscles hurt like hell.

In fact, the first noise he makes as he wakes up is a small, pained groan- Amy stirs on top of him, which pulls out of his sleep and into full consciousness again.

“Y’okay?”

She sounds so blissfully sleepy, asking him with the unenergetic concern of someone barely awake.

“Mm,” he offers. He doesn’t want to disturb her.

His body hasn’t hurt this much since one of his first, particularly awful workouts when he was at the Academy- not long after he met Rosa. It’s a sweet ache- all, presumably, from last night- but it’s unfamiliar. He’s not been physically worn out like this in a long time.

And yet, he thinks, slowly rubbing his hand over the plane of Amy’s shoulder, he’d do absolutely anything to repeat last night. Simply put, he’s never had sex that good in his entire life. A soft ache in his leg reminds him that he’s paying for it, but it’s the last thing on his mind. All he can do is wonder what he did to be rewarded with a night like that. And with someone like her, nonetheless.

“What time is it?” Her voice hums against his ribs.

“Uh,” he reaches over for his phone, “just gone nine.”

“Ugh,” Amy groans, shifting slightly beneath him. “We should get going.”

“Five minutes,” he resists. “We can have five minutes.”

Amy pushes herself up so she’s closer to him. Her legs tickle his as they move closer. She smiles up at him, her dark hair sifting over her shoulders now she’s turned over, and Jake thinks for a second that he might have just died and gone to heaven. Her smile is infectious, and it’s not long before he mirrors her.

“You’re so cute when you’ve just woken up,” she says quietly, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair. A shiver runs down his spine. “Even your hair looks adorable. Not fair.”

He has no words. He knows his bed hair, and, thanks to this, he knows she looks at least fifty times better than him.

She kisses his chest and pushes herself up and out of bed, wandering lazily towards the bathroom. Jake can’t take his eyes off her. She dresses herself slowly, only stepping out once to ask if he saw any toothpaste when they arrived. Somehow, he manages to respond, despite being utterly transfixed.

When Amy emerges again she’s fully dressed, and in the process of tying up her hair. She stands at the foot of the bed and pulls the duvet off him, hard.

“Get out of bed.” She’s being firm, in that authoritative way that only she can pull off, but there’s warmth in her eyes, and a small smile on her lips, and so he decides to take a chance.

He sits up and offers his hand.

The second her hand has slipped around his he pulls her towards him. Not hard, but not too gently that she can yank him away.

“Jake,” she laughs, but she’s already on the end of the bed, and then she’s in his arms again, and his pulse is quickening but the entire world is slowing down for her. As if by magic.

He’s intoxicated, and he has no idea how to come back down to the real world. She’s so soft under his lips, and the scent of perfume fresh on her neck turns whatever functioning brain cells he’s got left into mist.

“Mm,” she pulls back, resting her forehead against his. “Nope. We need to go. Get dressed, and I’ll google the nearest Starbucks.”

“Starbucks?! That’s your good-mood coffee.”

She grins, smoothing down her shirt.

“I have a good feeling about today,” she says sincerely. “Maybe it’s just the endorphins.” Shaking her head, she snaps out of it, and her dark eyes land on him blankly. “Jake! Go!”

Jake grins, finally pushing himself out of bed and heading for the bathroom, where his clothes sit in the exact same position Amy had left them in last night. He dresses as quickly as humanly possible, and like that, their day has begun. Amy's talking tactics, questions, explaining the speed dial numbers for Charles and Rosa on her phone, and the wooziness of last night is, for now, quite decidedly over.

“Do you think she’ll be at the gallery or at home? It’s a Saturday,” Amy asks nervously once they’re back on the road.

Jake looks over from the driver’s seat to see her grimacing slightly at her phone.

“We can try her address first. Then if it’s a bust we get to reward ourselves with the art, right? You’re a nerd, you know what I mean.”

For a second he wonders if he should be teasing her right now- but to his relief, when he glances over again she’s smiling to herself.

The drive isn’t too long- before he knows it he’s driving slowly through a sweet little suburban area, with Amy concentrating on directing him using her phone, staring hard at house numbers and street names. The houses somehow all look the same, as though everyone here is doing their very best to look as normal as possible. It's a little false, he thinks, trying not to wonder what bad things the people around here might have done.

Trees line the street so densely that the only light comes through the leaves sheltering the road. Jake finds it a little disconcerting; it could be 10am, but it could just as easily be 5pm.

“There,” Amy says eventually. “Around that corner.”

Jake pulls the car around slowly, finally bringing it to a stop in front of a large, southern-style home. It’s just as typically sleepy and hidden away as he imagined; there’s even a swinging chair on the porch, rocking back and forth in the early spring breeze.

“Okay. Ready?”

#I'm fairly certain when I post this it's the same fifteen people reading it over and over #and I am very grateful to all of you hehe #just trying to keep myself writing u kno #and I've actually ended up... enjoying this one #like more than I thought I would #so yeah thank u !!!#and enjoy #my writing #ymkm

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