Chapter Text
“Have a nice night, Grace!” you smile at the other woman as she gathers her purse and coat and heads to the exit. “See you tomorrow!”
“Bye!” she waves at you. “Enjoy the graveyard!”
You laugh to yourself as she leaves. Night shift at the MTF restricted archives was pretty much your idea of heaven. Very few agents frequented the stacks this late, which meant less being talked down to by your (mostly elven) superiors and more time to spend on your own pet projects. Ostensibly, you should have been working on clearing your inbox of translation requests, but the latest MTF raid had netted a few really choice tomes that you desperately wanted to crack.
“Let's see...” you muttered to yourself, a bad habit you'd picked up working mostly alone for more years than was probably healthy. “More High Övüsi, snore...Middle English, snore ... Cyrillic Bodzvokhan? We have a winner.”
You manage to lose yourself in the work until you hear a familiar voice. Glancing up, you confirm it's Agent Kandomere, in yet another bespoke suit that probably cost more than your college tuition. Damn, that man could dress. He tended to frequent the archives at the end of his day, occasionally making a translation request of you. You love watching him, his confident swagger, the grace and control of his movements, like some kind of lion...
You have a massive crush on the blue-haired elven agent. And maybe he has starred in more than a few x-rated dreams lately. What can you say, finely tailored suits and an aloof demeanor are something of a kink of yours. It helped that he was one of the few higher-ups who was always respectful, if a little distant, when making requests of the archivists. You begin to daydream, wondering exactly what it would take to defrost your elven ice king, when your reverie is interrupted by an annoyed clearing of the throat. You focus back to the present and are understandably chagrined that the object of your sexual fantasies is the one attempting to get your attention.
“Working hard, I see.” Agent Kandomere arched one perfect eyebrow.
“Nice to see you again, agent.” you smile. “Hey, since you're here, I can print off your translations. I'll still email you the files, but if you want a paper copy...?”
“Yes, thank you, that would be helpful.” he nods, a twitch of his mouth that might be a smile, you can't quite tell. “I actually have another matter I'd like your help with, off record.”
“Mmmm, I'm listening.” you lean forward, conspiratorially.
“I'm tracking a smuggling operation. If you get anything across your desk with these specific phrases, call me. I need you to go through the last month's worth of material to check for them, too.” he says, sliding a slip of paper across the desk to you.
“You got it. I'll start now.”
He nods again, turning to leave. You take the opportunity to check out his ass as he walks away.
Damn...
The rest of your shift has considerably less eye candy, but you do manage to find a few pieces of information for the agent. As the sun comes up, you log out of the archive's system and collect your things. You're bone-tired and will probably end up falling asleep on the Gold Line.
You nearly collide with whomever is coming around the corner as you exit the elevator on the ground floor, dropping your bag and jacket. “Sorry...”
You glance up and immediately want to die, Agent Kandomere and the orc officer from the LAPD are both towering over you as you bend down to gather your things. Officer Jakoby crouches down to help you. You recognize him from the news and the buzz around the MTF regarding the 'incident'.
“Thanks, officer.” you say, in Bodzvokhan, because why not? You hardly ever get the opportunity to practice speaking Orcish.
He smiles happily when he hears it. “You speak Bodzvokhan? Your pronunciation is excellent!”
“Thank you again. I'm glad, I rarely get to speak it at the archives.”
“Officer Jakoby?” Kandomere looks like his patience is beginning to thin. “Our meeting?”
“Oh, yeah, right, sorry.” Jakoby turns back to you. “Nice meeting you!”
You give him a friendly wave as the two men continue to the elevator. Trying to shrug off your embarrassment at your graceless display, you turn and start heading out the door when two tall elven agents flank you and block your exit.
“You hear her, Tam? Talking orc to that pigskin cop?” one of them says.
“Sure did, disgusting. You some kind of orc groupie whore? You want to fuck the filthy pignose now that he's famous?”
Fuck, this is the last thing you need. The jibes you get from elves in the archives are bad enough(if you had a dollar for every time you'd had Övüsi slurs flung at you...), but sometimes the agents liked to take out their frustrations on the MTF's lower-ranking human staff.
“I'm just trying to go home, agents, it's been a long night.” you reply, head ducked.
“Long night? Fucking your way to the top, then? You suck some special agent's dick to get in here?” one of the agents spat, getting in your face. “Why we even let you filthy pigfucking humans in here, I just can't understand.”
You try to step around them, try to catch the security guard's eye, but he's an elf too, and pretends not to notice. “I'm not looking to start something, I just want to go home.”
“You better watch it, bitch.” the angry one, Tam, narrows his silver eyes at you. “I'll make your life hell.”
“Will you, now?” an authoritative voice interrupts the exchange. Agent Kandomere is swiftly walking toward the three of you, visibly angry. “Because I think I could probably make your lives hell much quicker.”
“Agent Kandomere-” one of your harassers begins.
“Special Agent in Charge, now, if you remember.” he states. This seems to cow the other elven agents. “Do I need to remind you about our policies on harassment?”
“No, Special Agent.”
“Good. Now fuck off.” Kandomere turns back to you. “You alright?”
“Yeah, peachy, I'm used to it. Convenient timing on your part though, you following me?” you ask, still shaken. Clashes between elves and humans in the workplace pretty much never worked out in the human's favor, and you really really didn't want to lose your job.
“You dropped your keys back there.” Kandomere says, his hand on your elbow as he guides you out of the flow of foot traffic. “This kind of thing happen often?”
“Well, yeah, of course it does. Racism doesn't stop at the door.”
“Come up to my office, I'll take your statement and-”
“I really just want to go home. No one is going to care that elf feds are harassing human employees.” you say, feeling defeated. “We both know you're not going to write them up.”
“Of course I will, their behavior is unacceptable-” he begins.
“Right, because lowly humans like me matter, too? Would you have even stopped them if you didn't know me, if I were just a random human?” you interject, jabbing your finger against the crest he always displays over his necktie. “'Elves Above All', right? But yeah, you're totally impartial.”
That trips him up for a moment, but only a moment. He catches your arm as you try to stalk off. You whirl on him.
“Look, I want to help, I really do. I've seen you do some really good work for this city, but I don't have the time or energy or desire to deal with any more bigots than I have to. When I find something, I'll pass it on to your partner.” you pull your arm out of his grip. “I think that will suit us all better.”
You take your keys from his outstretched palm and finally leave the building without a backwards glance.
It's been a week since your...altercation, and Agent Kandomere hasn't been by the archives during your shift. You feel conflicted. You want to see him, but the whole thing reminded you of the gulf that exists between you. You feel like a silly teenager with a ridiculous unrequited crush and silently chastise yourself for indulging in your fantasies as much as you have been. Glancing at the clock, you decide you need some air. The building is mostly dark and silent as you make your way to the observation floor, not seeing another soul on your way up. Stepping out onto the terrace, you take in the view of L.A glittering below you.
“Taking your break?” Agent Kandomere is standing in front of the balustrade, hands in his pockets, regarding the lights and bustle of of L.A.'s nightlife.
“Agent.” you acknowledge.
“Mind if I join you?”
You give a noncommittal shrug, not willing to let on that you'd actually be happy for his company. The bitterness of your last interaction hangs over you. “Sure. What are you doing here so late?”
“What makes you think I'm not always here this late?” he responds. The way his expression never lets on anything really aggravates you, because half the things he says could either be flirtatious or insulting, depending on interpretation.
“I'm always here this late, and I never see you past ten. It was an educated guess.” you answer, forgoing your usual bench in favor of sitting on the table itself. “Not wearing the crest of Elven superiority anymore? Or is it just out for a polishing?”
He glanced down at his necktie briefly, you can't tell if it's a nervous gesture or not. “As you say, I'm a law enforcement official, and it...alienates people. Even if most of them can't translate it.”
You're surprised, a bit, that he took anything you had said about it seriously.
“Why'd you decide to study ancient elven, anyway?” he asks, gaze still trained on the city below.
“I work in a government archive.” you deadpan. “You gotta know the old languages if you want to advance. That's one of the reasons I don't mind graveyard, more time to study.”
“You taught yourself?” he replies, turning toward you. His disbelief is insulting.
“You don't think I could?” you challenge.
“It's not an easy language...”
“Please, its a phonetic language, not even in the top three hardest I've ever learned.” you say. “Why are you picking a fight with me?”
He looks irritated. “I'm not. It's just unusual-”
“Suspicious, you mean.”
Kandomere gives you a warning look, and you know your interruptions are throwing him off his game. Good.
“Unusual, for a human, outside of a PhD.” He pauses. “Or...are you a fetishist?”
“Excuse you,” you scoff. “Wanting to learn the language doesn't mean I want to be or bang an elf, okay?”
“Your orc sounds a lot more natural than your Övüsi, you part orc?”
“Maybe I'm an orc fetishist.”
“No one's an orc fetishist.” he responds.
“Mmm, you'd be surprised.” you sing-song, waggling your eyebrows. You can't help but laugh at the disgusted look on his face. “Not me, but I am part Russian. The orcs weren't nearly so paranoid about linguistic drift, there's a lot of borrowing.”
To your surprise, he joins you on the table, sitting close enough to be not-strictly-professional, if not exactly friendly. “You can't pronounce elven for shit, you know.”
“Oh, I know. It's hard to practice when you don't actually know any elves.”
He cocked his head to one side. “You know me.”
“Are you offering to teach me?”
“Maybe. If I wouldn't be wasting my time.”
You pause, scrutinizing his demeanor and tone for sarcasm, but find none. “I wouldn't have thought you had enough free time for private tutoring, Special Agent in Charge.”
“I can make time, for friends.” he states.
You're not quite sure how to respond to his offer, or his admission that he thought of you as friends, and the two of you lapse into an awkward silence. You clear your throat, trying to break the tension with a joke.
“So...'Kandomere' is quite a name, do your friends call you 'Kandy'?”
Kandomere laughs softly, half a smile gracing his usually stoic face. “Not if they wish to remain my friends.”
“So you can smile!” you chide, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Looks good on you.”
“Everything looks good on me.” he immediately responds.
You roll your eyes and hop down, walking away. You don't see the way his eyes follow after you.