P. Stormcrow

They have had close calls before, but this time was different. The last such desperation, such helplessness, threatened to overwhelm him was when Maya insisted on investigating those disappearances. When Maya let go of his hand and fell to her demise. He hated that feeling and had sworn never again.

And yet, here he was. Again.

They pulled up in front of her apartment and he got out, staring at the poorly maintained low-rise with a critical eye. Once more, he wished she had lived in a better place, but reined his own opinions back lest they show up in his body language. He knew he was just in an overprotective mood because of what happened, or so he told himself. After all, Finn was a grown woman and she could make decisions for herself. Nor was she the type that would take well to others telling her how to live her life.

Damien also wondered who he was trying to convince.

“Hey.” 

He met Finn’s concerned gaze with an automatic grin. “Hey yourself.”

“I’m going up now. Go home and get some rest.”

He shook his head. “I’ll walk you up first.”

He saw it in her eyes, an instinct to protest. But she bit her lower lip instead, shrugged as if to say “suit yourself”, and turned to take the little walkway up. He followed her in, up the stairs and down the hall with the peeling paint.

It wasn’t until they stood in front of her unit that she spun around to face him, her keys jingling with every movement. “Well, this is me.” But her gaze flickered over his shoulders and seemed to sweep the area.

Spooked. He recognized the tightened features, the fine lines of tension from the furrowing of her brow. Not that he blamed her. After all, the perps were still out there.

“Yeah.” Damien rubbed the back of his neck. Why is this so damn awkward? Neither of them said anything more while she unlocked and put her shoulder into the door to shove it open. Visions of her drinking herself to sleep crossed his mind, and he worried about alcohol poisoning. As her partner, of course. Purely platonic. 

“Finn,” he called out. When she turned to face him, he took a small breath. He knew her, knew her pride would keep her from asking for help. So he faked a yawn. “Think I can get a cup of coffee to help me stay awake for the drive home?”

She raised a brow. “How many cups have you had already?”

To be fair, he had lost count, but he gave her a lopsided smile. “Does it matter?”

Finn rolled her eyes and motioned him in. “Fine. But you’re making it yourself. I’m not up for being judged.”

The tightened in his chest ease and now in a more playful mood, he gasped, pressing a hand to himself in mock offense. “Never.”

When she snorted her disbelief, he chuckled. “I will, however, make my own coffee.”

He crossed the threshold, admiring the changes in her apartment, a far cry from the previous time he was here. It was looking more like a home than a temporary waystation, but it was a particular contraption in the kitchen that caught his attention. 

“You bought it!” The expresso machine sat gleaming in one corner.

Finn shrugged again. “First pay cheque splurge. Got here last weekend. Not that I’ve figured out how to use the damn thing yet.”

Making a cup right with a manual instrument like this was an art form and took some getting used to. “Ah, let me show you my young apprentice. You have taken the first step on the most important journey of your life.”

“Journey to what?” Finn’s voice dropped with sarcasm, but there was a slight curve to her lips.

Damien puffed up his chest. “Why? To becoming the ultimate coffee snob!”

Finn spluttered with laughter. His ploy in taking her mind off her nerves worked, and he couldn’t help the pleasure suffusing his soul at the sight of her relaxing. It hit him how rare it was to see her with a genuine laugh, and that won’t do.

When she pulled out the beans and grinder, he took over, doling out a single portion.

“You’re seriously not going to make just a single cup are you?” Finn asked in disbelief.

“I’m not the one at home and ready for bed,” he chided as he poured the beans.

When Finn said nothing in return, he tilted his head towards her, only for his eyes to widen. He was expecting her to glower at him or grumble. What he found was something much deadlier.

She stood there, pouting at him.

And it was the one of the sexiest pouts he had ever seen in his life.

His kryptonite.

Shit.

“You need sleep. This is going to keep you wide awake.” It was a weak attempt, as his resolve began to dissolve. No, he can’t sabotage his own plan..

Her lower lip quivered.

He groaned. “Fine.” Resigned to his fate, he spooned another helping into the grinder.

“Someone’s playing dirty,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey, for your coffee, I’ll sink as low as I have to.” She sounded smug. 

He refused to look her way again to verify.

“Now, show me how you use this thing.”

“Bossy.”

“Authoritative,” she corrected him. “I’m channeling Ms. Callaghan.”

“Except she would never resort to a pout.”

“Touché,” she agreed.

He yawned and refocused his efforts on making the drinks. Although it was a ploy to distract Finn, he wasn’t kidding when he said he needed one. For a while, they busied themselves with figuring the machine out. 

Quiet only descended on them as they sat at the dining table enjoying the fruits of their labor. And if Finn noticed that her cup held less than his, she didn’t comment.

On her fifth yawn, however, it was apparent that the caffeine wasn’t having much of an effect. 

“Bed.” Damien pushed his chair back.

She blinked at him and it spoke volumes she didn’t protest. Instead, she dug a bottle out from her pocket.

“What’s that?” He had never seen her take any medication before.

“Sleeping pills. Dr. Laurence prescribed it.”

He hesitated, but retrieved a glass of water for her and watched her knock the tablets back. When she remained in her seat, Damien sighed. 

“Come on, Finn.” 

He helped her up and when she headed for the couch, he steered her towards her bedroom until she fell face first into her sheets with a groan. Somehow, they got her into bed and tucked in but by that time, she was already well on her way to dreamland.

Without the stress of work and the complicated personal life she alluded to more than once, she looked youthful and more carefree. On pure impulse, he reached down with one finger to brush strands of hair away from her face and leaned down, hovering above.

No. What the fuck was he doing?

Being a creep, that’s what.

He hurried out of her bedroom, wrote a quick note, and retrieved her spare key. After he let himself out, he locked up, and slipped it back under the door before he straightened, only to lean his forehead against the old scarred wood.

“Goodnight Finn.”

***

Damien had slept most of the day, but he woke as the last of his dreams faded, a weird concoction of vague sequences that left him hot and wanting. He groaned, remembering Maya’s touch, the softness of her lips. Seeing someone looking exactly like her had triggered all sorts of flashbacks and memories, ones that he had worked hard to suppress. Perhaps he needed to see Dr. Laurent soon himself. 

Except it wasn’t just Maya in his dreams. He flushed as he realized that at some point, the images had morphed into a faceless woman that for no reason, he was certain was Finn.

Not good.

He sat up and rubbed his face with a groan. It must have been because they had spent so much time together, or because she was the last person he had seen.

Yeah, that had to be it.

What he needed was a cold shower.

Just as he swung his legs around, his landline rang. With the residue of his dreams still fogging his mind, he pushed himself up and ignored the insistent blaring, letting the call go to voicemail as he made his way to the bathroom.

“Damien, I swear, you and your paranoia.” The woman on the line let out an exasperated sigh before continuing. “Anyway, what are you up to tonight? Want to come over and hang? Give me a shout.”

The machine beeped, signaling the end of the message. He stared at his reflection. It was never only going over and hanging with Angela. They called each other whenever the need to scratch the itch arose, no strings attached. For today, it would be a good stress relief.

And an excellent way to temporarily forget his past. 

Shower later, phone now. After all, a gentleman should never keep a lady waiting.