Work Text:
Julie is a researcher.
Any detective worth their salt knows that research is half the game, and Julie is nothing if not an amazing detective. Julie did an extensive amount of research (read: recon) on Pacific View before she sent Charles in, and being as good at research as she is, of course she noticed Pacific View’s guardian angel, or their director, Didi.
Didi is approachable and kind and observant. She cares and works hard. She is beautiful and she wears baggy clothes. But even in those unflattering, oversized clothes, Julie gets glimpses of the tattoos underneath. She catalogues each one – stars and a whale on her forearm, stars on her wrist, a glimpse of some ink on her shoulder, something on her collarbone.
Julie has wanted to ask about them, that would have been the fastest way to find out, but how would you ask that of a person who once called you a remorseless, bottom-feeding, two-faced rat? The answer is, you don’t. So Julie, amazing also at compartmentalizing, filed the question away, but it stayed at the back of her mind.
The opportunity came on their first date at a fancy restaurant in downtown San Fran, where Didi wore much, much more fitted clothes that kept Julie staring for a long, long time. The outfit also showed a lot more skin than Didi usually did.
“How many tattoos do you have? What are they? Where are they?” Julie asked.
“Okay, calm down.” Didi laughed then. Julie found that she liked making Didi laugh. “Can’t tell you everything, now can I? Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
“Okay.” Julie shrugged. “Your place or mine?”
Didi’s mouth dropped open in shock. Then: “Mine.”
So they went to Didi’s place, and finally Julie got to find out exactly how many tattoos Didi had and where they were. She would never tell anybody this, not even Megan, not even when drunk, maybe under oath, but Julie did not plan to sleep with Didi that night. No, she genuinely just wanted to know more about the tattoos to add to her own dossier on Didi, but one simply does not turn Didi away when she is stark naked in front of you and gives you these dark, smouldering eyes that melt Julie’s brain a little. So. So not only did Julie get to see the tattoos, she got to touch them with her hands, taste them with her mouth. Needless to say, Julie was pleased.
Surprisingly, knowing more about the tattoos does not lessen their fascinating nature to Julie. If anything, it’s the opposite, as Julie notices more and more. She wants to see more of them.
“Your stupid baggy clothes cover up your tattoos,” Julie brought up.
“Well, unlike you, the residents don’t like seeing them,” Didi responded, her eyes bright.
“Who cares what they think?”
“Well, think about it this way.” Didi kissed her cheek. “You’re the only one who gets to see them.”
Hm. Julie supposes she can live with that.
There are days when they sit on the couch, each doing their own work, simply enjoying being in each other’s presence. Being in a relationship has not made either of them less of a workaholic. Sometimes, when she is finished with her work before Didi, Julie would reach over, and caress the crescent moon tattoo on Didi’s collarbone, and the leaves next to it, just for the sake of touching them. Didi would turn and look at her for what feels like eternity, then lean over and their lips would meet in a searing kiss, work forgotten.
Julie joked about it once, how Didi got turned on by a simple touch. Didi laughed while rolling her eyes.
“No, silly, it’s because you were giving me that look. That screams give me attention, take me now.”
Julie refused to believe it. She doesn’t have a look, most definitely not that one.
One day, Didi posed the question. “Why do you like them so much?”
Julie shrugged. “I know you can erase tattoos, but I like how permanent they feel. Most things don’t last, but tattoos give you the impression they will.”
“Would you ever get one?”
“Oh no. That kind of permanence doesn’t fit me.”
A month later, Didi came back from a mysterious appointment, with a fresh, brand new tattoo. She revealed it to be a small frog right above her hip bone.
“A frog?” Julie asked, confused.
“Yeah, Froggy. I like frogs.”
Julie reached out to touch it, gently.
“I like it, too.”