Work Text:
the promotion.
August 13th, 9PM.
It’s been 2 years since the Dexter Cilvantez case came to a close. Shockingly, that didn’t stop me from continuing to investigate as an officer on the field, in the line of fire for anything to happen to me. For some reason I feel like I belong a part of the Force, protecting and serving it something I’m unmistakably good at, I never intended on quitting it unless I was retiring. But, I did come pretty damn close. Those months of investigation, partnership, secrecy… It was a lot. It was a lot on the victims, the witnesses, my… partner?, and I. But the difference between them and I is that I made it, came back stronger because of it. The case had ranked me higher than my co-workers, solving it–bringing the victims families and friends closure–I was admired at the station ever since then, even gaining myself some friends and a new rookie by the name of Solaria Greyson. He was a victim in the case, but because of my composure and my determination to solve the case, he joined the force alongside me in hopes of getting to be that savior for other people as well. Today, August 13th, I’ve been officially promoted from Lieutenant, after serving years in the military and the Dexter Case, to Captain. It was… awkward? I don’t think I’m using the right word, but I can’t seem to find another way to phrase it. It was so life changing that my co-workers and rookie personally visited my home and coerced me into going out with them to some club. “Club 54 Lounge”, they were so excited to accompany me, but I think they were just expecting me to pay for their alcoholic beverages. But, besides the point, I got dressed and I was up and out there. Never in all of the time I’ve served have I ever been forced to go to a club, bar thing all over some promotion. I’ve been a Sarge, I’ve been a Sergeant, and I’ve been a Sergeant 1st Class, but never have I ever gone out of my way to celebrate it. And to that, Wonhu, my friend of 10 years who served with me in the military, said “that’s fucking depressing.” Her words. Not mine. So, in an effort to lift my proclaimed low spirits, she dragged me out and onto the dance floor. I’ve never been more humiliated in my life. My feet were stepped on, my chest brushed by random women (and men) by the hand, some even asking to see me afterward. It was a nightmare, well, all except for one woman I was actually interested in.
A rounded, dark skinned woman who glowed beneath the flashing cold-toned lights. A curved figure in which Aphrodite herself constructed, wearing a small yet chic pair of cross earrings, a thin yet fabric tanktop which accentuated her collarbone and shoulders, flaunting them and attracting me to her like a moth to a flame. Her love handles swayed to the beat, and last but not least her hair which was tied into many braids which clumped together at her scalp. Some of the braids were tied in the back with a hair tie, one that looked weirdly similar to the ones I used. I was lovestruck, recognizing the familiar face–the woman who’d helped fight beside me, practically holding my hand at every wrong turn was at the same party as me, dancing her heart out to the song which sounded to be On the Floor by Jennifer Lopez. I don’t think my heart has ever pounded louder, but with everybody moving I nearly lost her in the middle of my admiration. I could feel my breath catch up in my throat like her beauty personified had choked me. I could barely hear myself call out to her, “Soroush!” I belted, and like I was the only person in the room she had heard me. Her round, often half-lidded eyes had locked onto me as I scooted through the crowd one step at a time. In hopes of getting her close, I reach out to her, my palm delicately coming into contact with her short jeans, pulling her to my side in one swift motion.
It was all so fast, one second we were in the crowd the next we were out. Before I could properly formulate a thought amidst all of my gawking, she’d spoken to me before I got the chance to. “Lea? since when did ya party??” She cracks a smile I had always reminisced of, “I don’t.” I put out quicker than intended. “Then what are you doing here??” Soroush chortled loudly, my hand finally leaving her right hip. “Work–... I’m here with some co-workers.” I finally managed to utter, even if it did sound a bit hasty. I simply couldn’t fathom I’d seen her, tonight of all nights? I felt vulnerable in my undone tie, my rank probably crooked because of those people touching me. “Mhmm…” Soroush looked to have properly felt the embarrassment now as well, we hadn’t seen one another in forever yet I could notice her clutching the handbag she held. “Look, I mess–” Before I could finish my shitty confession, another man approached. He was skinnier, a bit deranged looking but fit the scenery better than I had. The two were discussing a drug trade. A drug trade in front of a promoted officer. It didn’t take long for me to be interrupted again, swept away by my associates to discuss this mysterious woman I was looking at so fondly.
Let’s just say I was beyond embarrassed. My face all hot, my friends prying eyes staring into me. I knew they couldn’t say anything since it could’ve very well been me just trying to hit on the beautiful woman I found on the dance floor, key word, trying, but it also could be because I recognized that woman. My friends did continue to talk to me, but it was like I was incapable of inputting anything into the conversation with all of this mind fog. Soroush was the only thing that lingered, even if she wasn’t on me physically. “She’s still selling?” “She must hate me.” “She was so gorgeous…” “Does she hate me?” “Will I ever see her again?” So many thoughts were running through my justice powered mind, yet they all correlated back to her in some shape or form. Little did I know that that wouldn’t be our last encounter of the night, far from it.
the award.
August 13th, 11PM.
I felt like I’d aged back in time a few years, thinking of this woman who had me in shambles, the same way I was when I was only in high school. I was so… so embarrassed. To think I hadn’t done anything about that drug trade? Embarrassing. To think I pulled her aside by the hip? Embarrassing. To think I fumbled this bad?-... Embarrassing. I was now drinking with my friends, yet some of them like my rook Solar, due to their duties the next day, chickened out. Saying how they were needed tomorrow, that they hope I have a good break before I’m out on the field again, all that jazz. I was so awkward ever since that encounter with Soroush, but everyone had assumed I’d gotten drunk and was likely forgetting about her. Well, they were right about the drunk part, I had one or two vodka pina colada’s… safe to say I was getting an uber for the night. The club… it was hot. Hot, sweaty, full of embarrassing moments with attractive people, I felt sick. Sick to my stomach… but the only thing that kept me going was the thought of seeing Soroush again, even if it was for one last time.
The thing is… Soroush and I stopped talking for numerous reasons. Soroush is a dealer, it’s how she gets by. It's relatively stable when you provide in that workfield, or so I’m told, and she’s money hungry, a materialistic woman. Yet another reason as to why I fell for her. But she never stopped dealing after I helped provide for her. It hurt. It hurt my ego, my beliefs, everything I stood for… But goddamn. We did have a bit of a… situationship going on.
It was when I was still a Lieutenant, yet everyone called me Sergeant because of my Sergeant 1st Class role in the military. I was a Lieutenant, Investigating Officer working on one of the most violent, head-spinning cases in all of our history here in California. And it was a lot on my shoulders. My partner, Tokira Saisei, passed away while we were both on scene when the tragedy happened.. She was shot twice, one to the leg, one to the brain. It was all so fast… all so hard to process. And the only person who I believed would help me with my work, this work, was Soroush. A woman with petty crime on her record, she’d chatted me up when she was in my car on the way to the station. She was just as beautiful then as she is now, and like any young man in the force with a beautiful criminal in his backseat, I fell in love with her. It was a one-sided crush for a bit, but we did talk. I knew if there was anyone I could trust that wasn’t Tokira, that wasn’t Wonhu, that wasn’t anyone in the force with me… It was Soroush. And she took me, she answered my questions, she accompanied me while I interviewed suspects, she rode shotgun in my police car from Point A to Point B. So, naturally, I believe we were in love. And for once, it wasn’t one-sided. We’d argue, but we always figured it out, until there was something emotionally unsolvable.
Truth is, I was a broken man. I was a machine, working and working and working to make sure I brought whoever lived to justice. Whoever was left, whoever was responsible–-cuffed. In my custody. I was a bloodhound on a scent, but in the process, I burned her with my dying flame. I melted the candle from both ends, exhausted from overexertion, and she had to handle me. She was the only one I’d let close when nights were cold because everyone else was a suspect. Until she became one. Soroush held me when I worked, held me when I screamed, held me when I cried. It turned out that she was a getaway driver for 4 suspects, one of them was the murderer of Dexter Cilvantez. And I lost it when I found out. The woman who let me into her bed was the same woman who helped a murderer get away from her crime scene. The same woman I cried in the arms of for hours. The same woman I let into my heart because I thought I knew who she was… but I didn’t. So I left. I left and I never fucking looked back… I didn’t even let her get a chance to explain herself. She knew. She knew that I knew. And she knew me.
Ever since then I’ve never been able to invite someone into my heart with open arms. It didn’t matter their achievements, it didn’t matter what they did for me, and it sure as hell didn’t matter who they were to me because the last time I did that… And suddenly I’m broken from my thinking pose, my thought coming to a close–my thought of how I’m here right now. The thought trailed from reminiscing to beating myself up for what I did to survive. For what I did for justice… when in reality, none of it felt justified. I felt selfish. I wonder if this made me feel lighter or more broken than before–it snapped into two when my biggest regret was sitting beside me, holding empty shot glasses from what I could assume she drank, seeing her lipstick stained on the cup.
“Lele~!” She cooed, her sing-song voice my ears had memorized. I likely looked pitiful, but I didn’t care. She was back, and I knew what I’d been waiting for these whole 3 hours. “Soroush.” I called out softer than ever before. She’d noticed, she’d noticed my dried tears, my unfit posture, the way I carried myself miserably. But just when she looks me in the eye, she pulls me in by the tie, a hungry look in her eye–and before I knew it, my lips weren’t on my cup anymore but they were on hers. The familiar mind-numbing, electrifying, exhilarating feeling returning to my heart that had frozen over. It thawed, my frozen heart had thawed under her touch and breath. Her hands ran all over my chest, as if she were unbuttoning my shirt. Her fingers peeking into the spaces between them, it drove me mad. The way my hands instantly went to her waist like it was muscle memory, my arms wrapping around her. The night had only started for me, same with this break that came with promotion. I certainly got promoted, alright.
“Soroush?” I murmur her name with baited breath. “Talk later, kisses now, Lele.”