Work Text:
“Are you in a rush home tonight?” Lauren had asked.
“Not particularly, no.”
“Could you stay here with Kym, just keep an eye on her?”
Will raised a refined brow.
“Just-“ Lauren’s coat was already around her shoulders, her scarf already under her chin. “She doesn’t like being alone at night this time of year. Walk her home for me, just this once. Just today.”
He’d glanced back to his sergeant, her fingers painted in ink, more smudged on her hand than had been spread across the monumental amount of work she’d managed to ease her way through since dawn.
“Please, Will.”
He couldn’t say no to that, not really. And even if he could, Lauren’s small push of persuasion had worked all too well, the dregs of another November doing little to help him find an excuse.
—————
autumn.
It was far past seven in the evening, though not quite eight yet.
Kym walked at his side, wearing neither an appropriate coat nor her trademark smile. Her arms were crossed over her front, fingers grasping at her sweater. She let out a huff, her breath condensing against her pen-smudged cheek, before meeting his eyes.
“Thank you for waiting.”
Will paused, only for a second, falling back into step with practiced ease. She hadn’t said much to him that day, not since the others had slowly started to file through the office door. He’d wondered if she noticed the few smiles they had sent her way, pitying and sorry. The worst kinds of smiles, if one were to ask him. If she had, she’d said nothing, offered no lopsided grin in return.
He supposed, really, that he’d rather have nothing from her over a forced smile.
“It’s the least I could do,” Will said, leaning at a new angle to try for a glimpse at her face. “Just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Kym shrugged, knuckles blooming white as her grip tightened around her sleeves. “Why wouldn’t I be?’ She looked at him, now, brow knitted into a little crease.
William didn’t answer, stepping off the curb to cross the street. Kym followed, boots scuffing as she hopped up next to him at the other side.
“If you want to ignore it, I will too,” he said, a hand running through his hair. “But I don’t mind hearing about her, either.”
At his side, Kym bit her lip, eyes misting under the streetlamp. “I don’t-” she sighed, hands covering her face. “I’m not ignoring her. Don’t say it like that again.” He stared, noting the way her nails shone under the lamp light, coated in a clear polish he hadn’t stopped to notice before. “Please.”
Will swallowed, and after a step or two, reached for her wrists. He took them into his palms, easily aware of the way his hands closed around hers, just like that.
On some ill-advised whim, he pulled at her hands, taking them from her face and waiting for her eyes to find his.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. I’m sorry, too.”
Will laughed, not in humor nor in bitterness, but in terribly concealed affection for the woman beside him. She fell back into step with him, pacing herself to catch up with his strides.
“Please don’t be sorry, Kym.”
It really was odd- trading apologies with her- but even in caring, he was stubborn.
When she fell quiet again, humming absently at his response and staring down the path ahead, his concern endured in a similarly stubborn fashion. He chose to wait, rather than force something out of her.
She didn’t speak, instead continuing to pace her strides with his, standing close enough that he could reach her, if he really wanted to.
He kept his eye trained on her, glancing up at the occasional headlights in their path. A small frown persisted on Kym’s lip, and Will mirrored it, as if hers had coaxed out his own.
Truthfully, he wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.
————
“Will. William. "
His name settled in the chilled air around them, and his stare returned to her. An unwelcome, though not unknown, sense of endearment swelled. It became muddied by worry as she tugged on his sleeve.
"Is something the matter?"
Kym shuffled next to him, her grip on his coat lingering still. "Do– God, this is so weird,” she laughed. He let her take her time, reaching the next block before she spoke again.
“Can you hold my hand?" Her voice was small, but he heard her well enough. "It's just- it's cold and your coat looks warm and I'm sure you're hands are too–"
Will smiled, his brow furrowing in contrast. "You can have my coat if you're cold," he said, fiddling with the button at his collarbone.
"No! No, it's okay." She wrung her shaking fingers before reaching for his. "I'd just like to hold your hand." A light flush coated her cheeks, though he assured himself it was just the bitter air nipping at her skin.
“Kym, you don’t have a jacket or anything-“
“I’m fine, really,” she pouted.
Will frowned, refusing to acknowledge the heat rising to his own face as he laced his fingers through hers.
“Any better?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, eyes avoiding his. “Thank you.”
He stepped closer, brushing up against her arm. “I’d make you wear the jacket if your house wasn’t right there.”
Beside him, Kym laughed quietly. He let himself catalogue the sound, smiling even as she sobered, the fondness he so desperately tucked away mingling with a new sense of pride as he basked in the privilege of having made her laugh.
“I know,” she said, following as he led her off the sidewalk and down the street.
His silent worry faded as they approached her parents’ house, a discreet attention to detail slowly replacing it.
Kym was warm at his side, arm pressed against his as she swung their hands between them. If he concentrated, if he forgot the sting of near-winter in the air, he could smell the subtlety of her lavender soap. Her skin was soft where his thumb rested, her fingers calloused where she brushed against his knuckles.
He chose not to mention the way her fingers fit against his palm, almost like they were meant to.
Really, he did his best not to think about it- any of it- at all.
————
The porch light was on when they reached her house.
Kym’s hand wriggled out of his when he paused, rooted on the sidewalk, and she made her way up the small set of stairs to her door. He shifted in the cold, shoving his hands back in his pockets, the warmth from her palm lingering a little longer that way.
The door opened before Kym could reach for the knob, and over her shoulder Will noted the silhouette of her mother, the amber light of the foyer draping over the soft edges of her face. He’d only met the petite woman twice, and though both times had been short lived, she greeted him with an easy smile.
“Lieutenant Hawkes!”
She sent a knowing look Kym’s way, and Will watched the interaction between mother and daughter, hands chilling in his pocket as they spoke in hushed tones.
Granted a warning grin, Kym groaned, eyes meeting his before she slipped past her mother and into their home.
“You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?”
————
“Did you remember to count?”
Daena had peered over her shoulder, a mug in one hand, a spoon in the other.
Frozen in place, Kym had met her sister’s eye hesitantly, a guilt ridden smile forcing its way into her expression.
She’d always ruined her sister’s tea. Never on purpose, but always a cube too sweet, a minute too bitter. Daena never did let it go to waste, either way.
“I’m sorry,” Kym had said, taking her own mug from her sister’s hands.
“Don’t worry, bébé.”
A blanket had fallen over her shoulders, then an arm, pulling her closer.
“You’ll get it next time!”
A bright smile had been shot her way then, lopsided and as close to perfect as she could remember ever having seen.
“I will," she'd said. "I promise."
Really, that next time never did come.
————
winter.
She found herself on William’s doorstep, cellophane-wrapped caramels hidden in her small purse, away from the chill of the new year.
Bringing a hand up to swat at the melting snow on her cheek, Kym let her knuckles fall to the door once more, the deep echo of mahogany weighing into her. A holler followed up from inside, and she smiled as the door was opened, this time with the haste of a man who had no expectations of a visitor.
Will stood at the other side, hair mussed in a way she’d only seen on long nights, when they’d sat in relative silence and let the itch of pen on paper fill the gaps. He raised a brow, a palm gliding along his temple and down his cheek.
“Kym?”
His voice was half riddled with sleep, a harsh rasp contrasting with the soft edges of his stature. Kym adjusted her purse on her shoulder.
“Good morning!” she said, letting a warm smile fall on her lips, breathing lightly against the sting of cold.
“What's going on?”
“It’s sort of sudden, I know, and you probably have other plans for the morning but-“ she reached into her bag, candy rolling between her fingers. “I can’t eat all of this alone and Lauren hates caramels.”
Will’s eyes closed for a moment, and Kym couldn’t help but stare as he pushed out a heavy breath.
His lashes were quite long, curling in such a perfect way that she couldn’t help but compare them to petals that furled over themselves and caught the warm breeze of May. He often reminded her, she considered lightly, of the small window between spring and summer.
If anyone were to ask, though, she’d say he was autumn.
“Come on.”
Will opened the door further, waking her from her stupor, his gaze on her.
“You’ll catch a cold if you stand out there any longer.”
Kym smiled, kicking off her boots in the foyer. His house was warm, as clean as it had been during her last visit, and she shook off a tinge of adoration at the sight of his piano in the next room over. It sat tucked away behind an ornately carved threshold.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked behind her, a hand on her shoulder as he slipped past her and into the kitchen. “I’m going to make myself something.”
“No thank you,” she said. “I ate a while ago.”
Dropping onto the couch, she flicked a lamp on, the gray light of winter falling away and into a soft white. Eyes closed, she held her breath a moment, the soft ambience of an oiled pan on the stovetop sending a lull through the room.
“I’m sorry to wake you up,” she said, voice falling off into a yawn.
A laugh echoed from the kitchen. “No worries. I was bound to get up eventually.”
————
Kym woke with a start, unsure of when she’d fallen asleep and for how long, the slight panic of waking up in a home not her own fading as she listened to Will’s movements in the next room over.
“Are you making tea?”
Her voice was hoarse with sleep, just as his had been. Stretching upwards, she angled her head back, peering into the kitchen to watch as he filled a kettle.
“Yes,” Will said. “Would you like some?”
She rose from the sofa after a moment, another yawn escaping her as she made her way through the door frame.
“Do you have chamomile? With mint?”
Will eyed her from the counter, hands stilling. “I should. Check in there.” He nodded to a drawer, the same deep mahogany as the front door. “Could you get me one of the green blends, too? There’s a few in there.”
Kym smiled, rifling through the teas. They were labelled, separated by their quality- caffeinated and not, bagged and loose.
“I didn’t know you were a tea person.”
Poised over the stove, Will sent her a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can’t survive on just coffee, you know.”
“I took you as an earl gray drinker,” Kym said. “Not as a-“ she eyed the label under her thumb, “- vanilla chai fan.”
“Well, I don’t buy blends for no reason,” he scoffed.
“Of course not.”
The kettle whistled with an outpour of steam that clouded the window. Will reached for two mugs, setting them next to her hand. The ceramic quickly heated as they were filled, scalding her hands as she shuffled them further from the edge of the marbled counter.
“You can handle the tea, right?”
Kym nodded slowly, taking the infuser he offered her. “Yeah.”
She made her way about it, taking the steps in stride, glancing at the clock. Once for lemon green, twice for mint chamomile. Her fingers fell into their normal nervous wringing, and she counted. Four for hers, five for his. It wasn’t a terribly long time, though her eyes fell shut a second too long, the familiarity of the scene coaxing her into a daydream. When she remembered to glance at the clock, she fell back into counting, plucking the bag from her mug.
She timed herself once more, handing the mug to William a minute later and plucking the infuser from its rim. He trailed through the door with a smile and a thank you .
On his heel, Kym let the steam from her mug warm her nose.
Will fell against the couch with practiced grace, setting his plate next to her purse on the coffee table, and Kym followed, sitting beside him, one leg tucked under the other, tea still in hand.
————
She fiddled with another wrapper before adding it to her small pile, pressing the caramel into the roof of her mouth. Will sat at her side, glancing up from a newspaper every so often.
Her tea had cooled, and she did her best to drink it quickly, desperate to cleanse her palette of the frozen morning air. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.
“Kym?”
She hummed, meeting Will’s gaze, letting the taffy melt on her tongue.
“How long did you steep this?” He took another sip from his mug, one hand resting on his knee.
“Five minutes.”
“I usually do four,” Will said. Kym fingers curled tighter against her mug. “It’s really nice like this, though.”
“Really?”
He smiled, shrugging. “You know how to make good tea, I guess.”
Truthfully, she would have cried then, had she not had some sense of self left. She quickly swallowed her candy, beaming at him.
“Thank you.“
“Of course, Ladell.”
Another moment passed, her earlier drowsiness returning as Kym considered that she really should have slept in much later than she had. She set her tea down, resting her head in her arm, leaning against the couch.
“Does this mean you purposely gave me bad tea, that one time?”
“Maybe,” she said.
————
Sometime later, while in a state of nearly awake, almost asleep, Kym suddenly found that Will’s fingers were in her hair. She couldn’t find it in herself to tell him she was awake, that it was his fault that she couldn't quiet her thought. Blinking, she adjusted her arm under her head, craning her neck to watch him.
His touch was careful, and she felt a smile as the pads of his fingers traced her scalp lightly, stopping at the nape of her neck and then starting again. He kept his eyes trained on his paper, tongue between his teeth, a pen scoring into a crossword.
She didn’t even know that she was awake, not anymore; her eyes felt much heavier, her breathing even.
He smelled like winter.
————
“What do you mean you’ve never been on a swing?”
Kym wasn’t sure how she found herself at a children’s park in late March, but it wasn’t exactly an odd occurrence.
What was odd, however, was the fact she’d been able to convince William to come along with her. Evidently, it hadn’t been on his to-do list, a very long and very real note consisting of little scribbled phrases and checkmarks which she had caught a glimpse of just that evening.
“I mean exactly that.”
She rolled her eyes, kicking up sand as she slowed to a stop.
“I guess I’ll just have to teach you, then.”
————
“I don’t know what I’ll do,” Will said. “When it does happen.”
Kym didn't answer, not right away.
“I just know it’s coming.”
His eyes were watching another scene entirely, a frown on his lips, slightly chapped by winter.
“I’ll always be around, if you need,” she’d said. “You know that I will.”
Will took a moment, too.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
————
spring.
“William?”
Kym hadn’t known to find him, hadn’t quite sought him out, but he was there. His body was crumpled, fingers curled over the edge of the bench he’d found for himself. A fleeting thought came to her, that there was something altogether artful in the way he sat. His hair was damp from the earlier mist, and the sun coated him as if it had chosen to shine there, only for him.
Really, she hoped that it had. If it had rained any harder, she feared she wouldn’t have found him there. If not here, she wasn’t sure she’d have found him at all.
He didn’t answer her. Her hands fell to her pockets as she walked closer, deep strides still hesitant as he failed to acknowledge her once more.
“Will?”
Receiving no recognition, Kym stopped, standing at his bench rather than sitting. She watched him, taking a step back.
“I don’t need to stay. I just want to check on you.”
He moved, lifting his head, gazing up at her through dampened lashes. She shuffled, offering a small smile. He’d claimed to hate pity, once, and she did her best to push it away.
“I can go now,” she said. “If you’d rather I do that.”
Will frowned, laying his palms over his eyes, slender fingers pressing against his temple.
“No. No, it’s okay.”
When she sat beside him, he turned to her, mouth opening around words he could not find. She let him search, reaching up to comb the rain from his hair.
“My mother-“ he grimaced, voice breaking off into something small. A familiar panic fell across his features, softened with resignation.
Kym watched him, throat burning as he reached for phrasing that never did come to him.
He gave up trying when she did. Or maybe, it was the other way around. But his arms were at her waist, his sobs stifled in against the crook on her neck, in something quicker than an instant. She was silent, save for her own shaking breaths.
————
summer.
Will fiddled with his tie, Kym catching his periphery as she slipped through the throng of people chattering above the refreshments.
Her clothes were simple, pants swinging about her ankles as she walked. He smiled at the way she moved back towards him, more free than the others, champagne splashing over the side of a glass and onto the patio as she waved it his way.
Kym handed him the flute quietly, beaming up at him as he downed it in one go. Her small diamond studs danced under the string of lights overhead, her head tipped back to mirror him, leaving a fraction of her own drink to settle at the bottom of her glass.
“Did something happen?”
Will shrugged, eyes trained on her as if that would make him forget the other guests. It almost worked, too.
“My father is here.”
Her gloss painted lips were still spread into a smile, one he was quite sure hadn’t left her face since she’d received an invitation to the party. She reached for his hand, small fingers closing against his, palm warm with the humidity of near June.
“Come with me for another drink?”
“I might need to stay over there, at the rate this is going.”
————
He’d offered to drive her home a few nights before, but even then she’d said she would just walk, that it wasn’t too far, anyway.
And so, he found himself beside her on the sidewalk once again, her shoes in her hands and her small bag in his. They’d left much earlier than planned, and the sun still lingered on the horizon, a fine line against the coming dusk.
She was laughing beside him, still. He was giddy watching her, letting himself forget the cool stone in his father’s eyes and wiping the light sweat at his brow.
“ None of your business, ” Kym said beside him, voice lowered and stoic, before another bout of giggles fell from her mouth. “Is that really the best you could do?”
Warmth flooded his face as she watched him expectantly, but he couldn’t help but laugh all the same.
“Shut up.”
He watched as she continued to rattle on, her arms swinging, the legs of her pants following. Briefly, he noted that no one had ever described him so colorfully, or defended him with such persistence, as she had in the face of his father. He didn’t want to dwell on it; not when she was right there. For all he knew, she would ask him what the matter was, and then he’d have no choice but to let the knot in his throat turn into words. There would be no way left to stop himself from rambling on about how wonderful she was at standing up for him, at finding her own way. How wonderful she was at everything, really.
It was very concerning.
So, he chose to dwell on her face, instead- which, in hindsight, wasn’t the best alternative.
Slowly, the dusk cast its blue shadow, covering her small form with ease. He let himself take in her features, pausing at the mole under her eye, the light dusting of glitter on her eyelids, the slight pout of her lip, her cupid’s bow sharp as she spoke.
Kym’s brow had dipped at some point, her ruddied with champagne and irritation as she went on about how, really, he shouldn’t have invited half the people he had to his house party.
“Do they even know how old you’re turning?”
All too suddenly aware of the freckle on her shoulder, where her pale skin sloped upwards, Will shrugged. He didn’t quite care how old he was turning himself.
She scoffed beside him, tugging at his wrist and wrapping herself around him when they came to a stop outside her parents’ home.
“This is me,” she said, voice muffled against him. “And I care, you know. About your birthday and all that.”
He smiled easily. “I know.”
And it was with zero rational thought that he brought himself to her level, one hand at her waist, the other brushing her shoulder, and pressed his lips to hers.
————
“You’re home early.”
She stopped at the banister, glancing into the living room, catching her breath.
“Was everything okay?”
Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs, a knowingly sweet tone following Kym to her door.
“It was fine!” she yelled back down, slipping into her room.
She pressed herself against the door, grinning as she caught herself in the mirror, her shirt untucked and her updo a hopeless mess. Stepping closer to her vanity, she tossed her shoes by the closet door and peered at her reflection, flush deepening on her skin as she rested a finger over the mark he’d left on her shoulder.
————
Kym watched on in interest as Daena went to work on a second braid, slender fingers masterfully threading through her hair.
“That looks pretty.”
Her sister laughed, sending a smile her way through the mirror.
“I can teach you how,” she said. “After my dinner.”
Kym nodded back, sitting quietly beside her sister’s radio, humming along with the words she didn’t quite know.
“Are you in love, Daena?”
Her sister tied off her hair with a ribbon before speaking.
“No, not yet,” she said. “That takes a while, I think.”
Kym frowned, spreading her fingers along the carpet.
“How long?”
Daena rose from her chair then, and kneeled next to Kym, placing a kiss on her cheek before making her way to the door, coat in hand.
“I’d say” she hummed. “About a year.”