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When We Find Some Time Alone

Chapter 3: Signals Crossed

Summary:

She comes in through the window anyway.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They agreed she'd wait five minutes before coming in the front door while he did quick sweep for any potential bugs. Even though the initial investigation deemed Duncan's apartment cleaned, they still can't be too sure who to trust.

Plus, it gives him an opportunity to use his new EMP generator. Alistair rechecks the common hiding places, which is easy enough given the man's spartan lifestyle; he goes through the battery compartment in the television remote, runs his fingers underneath the edges of the desk, and finally inspects the analogue mantle clock. The only thing askew is the time. Despite the futility, Alistair winds it up again, correcting the hands. It's the least he can do.

He returns to the front door to wait for her, then pushes the button on the generator, leaving the tick-tick-tick as the only sound in the room. That is, until he hears the click of the window latch from the bedroom.

He slowly makes his way toward her, eyes still adjusting to the darkness. "Didn't we just talk about this?"

Barely halfway through and body contorted, Tabris somehow manages a shrug. Not that he's complaining about her flexibility.

"What if someone was watching across the street?" He's got her there. It's the second faux-pas of the night– a reckless one at that– and he can feel her tense up as he helps her into the room, one hand holding hers, the other around her waist. She doesn't need the assist, but he's should be a gentleman, right?

She lets him. Feet firmly planted on the floor, she gives herself a moment to enjoy the way his body practically engulfs hers. As if to justify the proximity, she plucks the device from his pocket. "Well, it's a good thing you went the extra mile then. You're just full of surprises, aren't you? Got any other secrets you wanna share, detective?"

The darkness is both a boon and a curse because he can only imagine what sultry expression she's wearing to match that tone and he's well aware of what that might do to him. With a groan, he manages to pull himself away. "We have work to do, remember?"

Notes:

I credit pop-culture for my scientifically inaccurate understanding of what EMP generators can do.

Notes:

Title from Fiona Apple's Anything We Want– is there a more perfect undercover romance song?