Chapter Text
Gabriel Reyes
Status: [Fuck everyone]
The cruiser crawled through the streets like it had all the time in the world, its engine purring low under the breath of dusk. The city outside glowed in muted golds and soft ambers, the kind of light that made cracked sidewalks and chain-link fences look almost poetic. Dust hovered in the air like a memory that wouldn’t settle.
Inside the patrol car, the air was a cocktail of bitter coffee, sunbaked vinyl, and the sweat that clung to uniforms after a long day chasing ghosts. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was theirs.
Gabriel had one arm draped over the steering wheel, the other resting near the door, fingers tapping out a slow rhythm like he was keeping time with the city. His eyes were sharp, scanning corners, windows, alley mouths, every flicker of motion registered. It wasn’t nerves. It was instinct. These streets raised him. Every crack in the concrete whispered something he understood.
Jack sat beside him like he owned the passenger seat. Posture perfect, badge gleaming, not a wrinkle in sight. He looked like a recruitment poster, until he opened his mouth.
“So what, you gonna ride out the whole shift in silence again? Real strong-silent-type of you,” he said, one eyebrow cocked, voice too casual to be innocent.
Gabriel didn’t even glance his way. Just smirked slightly. “Maybe I’m just enjoyin’ the quiet before you start flirting again.”
Jack let out a soft laugh, looked out the window like the conversation bored him, but his grin said otherwise. “You say that like I ever stopped.”
Gabe’s knuckles flexed on the steering wheel. The sunset lit up half his face, catching in the stubble on his jaw. “Bold move for an omega.”
Jack shot him a side-eye. “Please. You alphas talk a big game, but you take two years to make the first move.”
There was a pause. Not awkward. Charged.
Gabriel made a slow left, let the silence hang. “You ever think I’m just waiting to see if you’re worth the effort?”
Jack let out a soft breath, barely a scoff. “Wow. Romantic and condescending. I’m swooning.”
“When we break,” Gabriel said, voice lower now, “I’m buying you a coffee. Something real. Not from a machine.”
Jack didn’t answer. Just leaned back in his seat like a king offered tribute.
Then the radio crackled to life:
“Unit 12, we’ve got possible B and E—abandoned property on Seville Street. Address one-six-four-two. Lights reported. Movement inside.”
Gabriel picked up the mic. “Unit twelve, copy. On our way.”
By the time he set it back, Jack already had his gloves on. The playful glint was gone from his eyes. What was left was sharp. Focused.
They turned off the main road, rolled into Seville like they were slipping into old skin. This part of town was half-forgotten, too many boarded windows, too many stories left to rot behind dead grass and rusted gates. A place where kids still played ball between garages, and no one asked what cooked behind closed doors.
The house was obvious. Paint peeling like sunburn, porch sagging under its own weight. One window open. Curtain shifting like it had something to say.
“You good?” Jack asked, already stepping out, voice low and flat.
Reyes nodded once. “Last time we hit a place like this, found blood on the floor and a gun under the sink. Don’t take anything for granted.”
They split up, circling around. Beer cans crunched under boots. Jack pointed to a set of sneaker prints in the dust. Fresh. Stupid.
The air inside was thick, mold, old piss, something sour beneath it all. Voices drifted in from the back. Teenage laughter. Nervous and too loud.
Gabriel knocked, loud and clear. “Police! Don’t move!”
Chaos. A crash, scrambling feet. One kid tried to bolt. Gabe caught him mid-window, yanked him back by the hoodie like plucking a fish from a bucket.
“Not so fast, champ.”
The others froze, wide-eyed, hearts pounding through oversized hoodies. One had the balls to speak up.
“We weren’t doing anything! Just hanging out!”
“Yeah?” Jack stepped in, eyes cold now. “You always hang out in trespassed buildings full of mold and bad decisions?”
He pointed to the mold-stained couch. “Sit. Talk. We’ll see who gets to call their mom and who gets a ride downtown.”
Reyes glanced over at him, lips quirking. “You talk to teens like you’re their disappointed guidance counselor.”
“And you talk to perps like you went to high school with them,” Jack shot back. “Maybe that’s why they don’t run from you.”
There was something warm in Gabriel’s eyes, but he didn’t let it settle.
“Alright, golden boy,” he said, stepping aside. “Your show.”
+
Night settled over the city like a damp blanket. The streets were empty, save for the occasional flicker of headlights or a barking dog echoing down an alley. Streetlights cast pale yellow halos on the pavement. Trash rustled in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, tires screeched and faded into nothing.
Their patrol car moved slow, tires humming. Inside, the soft glow of the dashboard lit Gabe’s face in harsh orange. He gripped the wheel loosely, jaw set, eyes scanning the road with the kind of instinct that only comes from years of doing this – of surviving it.
Jack sat in the passenger seat, one leg stretched out, elbow propped against the door. He glanced sideways, smirking.
“Y’know, you always look like you’re two seconds from pulling someone outta their car.”
Gabriel didn’t flinch. Just kept driving.
“Maybe I am.”
Jack snorted. “That include me, or…?”
Finally, a glance. Sharp, cutting. A hint of something beneath it.
“You’re a separate case.”
Silence settled between them again. Not uncomfortable, just familiar. The quiet that existed between people who knew how to sit in it.
The radio crackled faintly, murmuring traffic updates no one cared about. Jack stared out the window for a beat, then asked, voice lower:
“You feel safe with me?”
A soft scoff from the driver’s side. “Safe? No. But it’s not boring.”
“That supposed to be a compliment?”
“It’s honest.”
Jack chuckled, low and easy. “God. An alpha with a sense of humor. Should’ve called the news.”
“Say I told you I liked you,” Gabriel muttered, eyes still on the road. “You gonna back off or double down?”
Jack leaned his head against the seat, voice smooth. “Guess we’ll find out in the morning.”
Gabriel didn’t answer. He turned the wheel, guiding the car into a dim alley lit only by a buzzing sign from a corner diner. The smell of grease and burnt coffee clung to the air.
“You want some real coffee?” Gabriel asked. “I remember I owe you.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. “Only if you pour it yourself.”
Gabriel gave a soft huff, something close to a laugh and stepped out of the car. A few minutes later, he came back with two steaming cups, the lids fogging up in the night air.
He handed one over. Their fingers brushed, brief, electric.
“Just like you asked. Poured with love and a dash of irritation.”
“My favorite combo,” Jack murmured, taking a sip. His eyes lingered a little too long.
They didn’t talk for a while. The car sat idle on the curb, radio playing some old blues song that rolled like smoke through the speakers. Gabe leaned back, relaxed for the first time that night.
Jack sipped his coffee, watching him from the corner of his eye. Then, quietly:
“Remember your first shift?”
Gabriel nodded slowly. “Hot as hell. Someone tossed a bottle at us from a rooftop. I remember thinking, no one’s got our backs. Not really. It’s just us.”
“You alone back then?”
“Felt easier. Until you showed up. Mr. Pressed Shirt and Gold Badge.”
Jack smirked. “So you do notice how good this uniform fits.”
Reyes gave him a sidelong look, dry. “I notice everything.”
Jack’s smile faded into something softer. He looked down, then back up at him.
“You’re not alone anymore, Gabe. Not unless you want to be.”
A beat. The kind of silence that stretches, holds its breath.
Gabriel didn’t speak right away. His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, then slowly, almost without thinking — he reached over and tucked a curl behind Jack’s ear. Careful. Intentional.
Jack froze, eyes flicking to him.
“You sure you wanna be here?” Gabriel asked, his voice low. “With me. Not just riding shotgun.”
Jack nodded. No jokes this time. Just truth.
“I’ve been here,” he said quietly. “You just keep checking the rearview like the past’s about to tail us.”
Gabriel looked at him, really looked and something in his chest tightened. The moment hovered there, fragile and heavy.
But instead of leaning in, Gabe exhaled and turned his eyes back to the windshield.
“Let me know if that ever changes,” he said.
Jack smiled, not quite sad, not quite hopeful. “You’ll be the first to know.”
They sat there in silence, the weight of unsaid things between them. The blues song on the radio trailed off into static. Outside, the city slept, unaware.
+
Gabriel Reyes
Status: [One more joke from Cassidy and I’m snapping]
The station was lit in dim, yellowed fluorescents, humming with that familiar low buzz. Gabe dropped the keys into the tray, the last sip of cheap diner coffee still warm in his hand.
Jack followed, stretching his back with a groan. The desk sergeant – old Reilly, barely looked up from his sudoku. Somewhere in the back, a fax machine wheezed like it was dying.
“Paperwork,” Gabriel muttered, grabbing a clipboard. “My favorite part of policing.”
“Don’t lie,” Jack smirked, peeling off his jacket. “You love it. It’s your coping mechanism.”
Gabriel didn’t dignify that with a response, just grunted and sat. His pen scratched across the form with the focus of a man trying very hard not to hear footsteps approaching.
“Well, well, if it ain’t the Dynamic Duo,” came the voice, lazy, warm, unmistakably southern. “Back from the graveyard shift with your matching frowns.”
Jack didn’t turn around, just smiled into his coffee.
Gabe, without looking up:
“That voice is exactly why I told them not to hire anyone from goddamn New Mexico.”
Jesse leaned over Gabe’s shoulder, grinning wide under his stupid cowboy hat, which, of course, he was still wearing indoors.
“New Mexico’s a beautiful place. Lotta charm, good folks. And I’m the best damn shooter on the west side, admit it.”
“Your best shooting is your mouth,” Gabe muttered, flipping the page. “And you need a license for that thing.”
Cassidy glanced at Jack. “How d’you put up with him?”
Jack, deadpan: “I’m hoping he retires early.”
“You wish, Morrison,” Gabe shot back.
Cassidy laughed, clapped Gabe on the shoulder. “C’mon, I just brighten the place up. You two look like you’ve been dragged backwards through hell.”
“Just another night in LA,” Jack said, finally sitting. “And Cassidy?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and get me a coffee.”
Young alpha winked. “You like it black and bitter, right? Just like your partner.”
Gabriel didn’t look up.
“Make it two. And no flirting with the dispatcher this time.”
Jesse raised both hands, sauntered off like he owned the place. The moment he was gone, Jack leaned closer, murmuring,
“You like him.”
“I like peace and quiet,” Gabe muttered. “And I’m not getting either tonight.”
But the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he kept writing.
The precinct was too bright for how tired Gabe felt.
+-
Those overhead fluorescents made the place look clean but cold, like a morgue with paperwork. He sat at his desk, pen in hand, filling out the same form for the third time this week. Another petty theft, another witness who “didn’t see much,” another line to draw across the bottom: Reyes, G.
His hand moved on autopilot.
Date, time, location. Suspect unknown.
He barely registered the scratching of Jack’s pen at the next desk. The man wrote fast, efficient, like he was still in the army and someone might shout “time’s up” at any second. Gabe wrote slower. Thought more. Or maybe just lingered more than he should.
He didn’t hate paperwork. That was the problem.
It gave him time to think, which, lately, wasn’t always a kindness.
He was too close.
Jack.
The way he looked at him tonight. The way he said You’re not alone anymore.
That sentence still echoed in Gabe’s mind, soft but relentless, like a low tide pulling at him. Part of him wanted to let go and drift. The other part had its heels dug in the sand.
He scribbled down the final detail, blew out a slow breath through his nose. His shoulders ached. The kevlar vest still clung to his frame like a second skin, even off-duty.
Jack was quiet beside him, not unusually so, but enough for Gabe to feel it. Like the silence meant something now. Before, it used to be just a pause in conversation. Now it felt like a space waiting to be filled.
He glanced sideways.
Jack had taken off his tie, collar loosened, blond hair messier than usual. He looked good like this — tired and real. Less like Sergeant Morrison and more like Jack.
Too good. Too fuckin’ good.
Gabe looked away.
He signed his name at the bottom of the page.
There. Done.
Then immediately turned the page to the next report, as if momentum would drown the heat building under his ribs.
Somewhere in the back, Cassidy was still flirting with the dispatcher, his drawl echoing through the halls like a radio stuck on cowboy FM.
Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose.
“God, I’m too old for this,” he muttered.
Jack glanced up. “For what?”
“This whole circus,” Gabriel replied without thinking. Then, after a pause:
“You. Cassidy. My own damn thoughts.”
Jack smirked faintly. “That last one’s your own fault.”
“Don’t remind me.”
And then they both went back to their reports, pens moving across the paper, hearts beating just a little too loud in the quiet.
LAPD – INCIDENT REPORT
Reporting Officer: Lt. Reyes, Gabriel
Badge #: 3xxxx-A
Date: [20.05.2025]
Time: 15:17– 00:42
Location: South Alameda St., Los Angeles, CA
Case #: 0145xxxx
Summary of Incident:
Routine patrol initiated at 15:17 pm by Officers Reyes and Morrison. Conditions: quiet night, minimal foot traffic, suspiciously loud bag of chips being eaten in back seat (Morrison, unrepentant).
At 15:46, responded to 911 call reporting possible break-in behind Harold’s Liquor. On-site: broken window, scattered glass, trail of Cheetos leading into alley (not making this up). Gave chase after spotting two (2) teenage suspects attempting to scale a chain-link fence.
Suspects detained at 15:52. One sprained ankle (self-inflicted; attempted “parkour” maneuver ended predictably). Both suspects are minors, claimed they were “just bored.” Confiscated items: one crowbar, two candy bars, five stolen whiskey bottles (again, one flavored). Questioned taste judgment, got shrugs.
Store owner contacted; declined to press full charges due to age. Official warning issued. Juveniles turned over to guardians with strong suggestion to rethink Friday night plans.
Additional Notes:
Morrison nearly tripped over a trash can mid-chase. I didn’t laugh. Much.
Cassidy made three separate “howdy sheriff” jokes upon our return to precinct. He has now been banned from the break room until further notice.
Also: Morrison drank precinct coffee again. Claims it “builds character.” I claim it erodes stomach lining.
Gabriel Reyes.