#Arlen talks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acklesarchives · 2 months ago

Text

Don’t open that drawer - Dean W

Dean x fem!reader

While patching yourself up after a rough hunt, you find yourself in Dean’s room late at night—only to discover a drawer he forgot to close.

Content warning ; canon typical violence, emotional vulnerability, smut, oral (f!receiving) but nothing to crazy, dean being a sweet coward <33

Word count ; 1,511

Minors please do not interact !!

You never meant to find them.

It was late—past midnight—and the Bunker was unusually quiet. Sam had already gone to bed, the echoes of his footsteps fading down the hall hours ago. You’d stayed up patching your jacket, a fresh tear sliced through the arm from the hunt earlier that day. Dean had said he’d help, but he never came back from the garage.

You figured he was brooding. He did that, after a close call. And tonight had been closer than usual.

The kitchen light flickered as you passed, mug in hand. You made your way to Dean’s room instead—mostly because it was closer than yours, and partly because you were tired of pretending that wasn’t a habit.

He always left the door unlocked.

The room smelled like him—leather, old cologne, whiskey, something earthy underneath. You set your mug on his nightstand and dropped into the chair by his desk, rubbing your sore arm. His flannel was slung over the back of it. You pulled it on without thinking.

That’s when you noticed the drawer.

The bottom right. Slightly ajar. Not enough to catch the eye unless you were sitting this close.

You didn’t mean to open it.

But there was a curl of paper sticking out.

At first you thought it was one of his old case notes, shoved out of sight. But the handwriting was neater. More intentional. And then you saw your name.

Your name. On the top of the page. Centered. Underlined.

Your chest tightened. You knew you should stop. But your fingers moved on their own.

“You had blood on your cheek tonight. You didn’t even notice. I wanted to wipe it off, but I didn’t. I just watched you laugh with Sam like we hadn’t almost died. I think that’s what kills me. That after everything, you still know how to laugh. You make the worst parts of this job feel less like hell. And God, I want to tell you that. But I never do. So I’m writing it down, instead.”

Your hands trembled. You unfolded another.

“I had a dream about you. You were wearing one of my shirts, standing in the library. You didn’t say anything. You just looked at me like you already knew. And for once, I didn’t feel like running.”

There were more. Dozens. Some torn out of notebooks, some written on scraps of diner napkins, lined legal pads, the backs of maps. Your name on every single one.

And they weren’t just sweet, or romantic. Some were angry. Frustrated. Devastated.

You walked into the room today and smiled at me like I was someone worth loving.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve that, but I know I’ll never be brave enough to say what I should. So this’ll sit in a drawer. Just like the others.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until a drop hit the page.

“Hey.”

You jumped, heart thudding. You hadn’t heard the door.

Dean stood in the doorway, keys in hand, jaw clenched, green eyes locked on the drawer you’d pulled open.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t rush to snatch the papers away.

He just said, quietly, “You weren’t supposed to read those.”

“I know,” you said. Your voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I saw my name.”

Dean stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he leaned back against it like he needed something to hold him up.

“I wrote them when I couldn’t say it out loud,” he admitted. “Didn’t think anyone would ever see them. Especially not you.”

“Why not?”

He looked down. “Because if you knew how long I’ve felt this way, you’d either hate me for keeping it quiet or pity me for being too much of a coward to do anything about it.”

You stood, slowly, letter still in your hand.

“You’re not a coward.”

Dean gave a soft, broken laugh. “You don’t know how many times I almost told you. How many nights I sat right there—” he nodded toward the desk—“and thought about knocking on your door. But I’d look at you the next day, and you’d smile, and I’d think… if I tell her, she might stop smiling at me like that.”

Your chest ached.

You crossed the room and stopped in front of him. The silence was thick—too full of everything unsaid.

“I never would’ve stopped,” you whispered. “Not ever.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And all the years of buried emotion hit the surface like a storm breaching a dam.

“God, I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve been in love with you since you walked into that diner in Nevada with a busted lip and a silver blade and said, ‘You boys need backup?’”

You smiled through the tears. “I remember that. You said, ‘Only if you’ve got whiskey.’”

He huffed a soft laugh. “You had some in your boot.”

“And you smiled at me like you hadn’t done that in years.”

Dean stared at you. “Because I hadn’t.”

You reached for his hand, gently, lacing your fingers with his. “Then stop writing me letters you’ll never send.”

He squeezed your hand like he never wanted to let go. “Can I kiss you now?”

“You’d better.”

When Dean kissed you this time, it wasn’t restrained. It was everything. The hesitation was gone, stripped away by years of closeness, tension, aching want, and love too long buried. It was the kiss of a man who had written you into the quiet spaces of his life, who had bled feelings onto paper because his mouth had failed him too many times.

His hands cupped your jaw, thumbs brushing tears you didn’t remember falling. You melted into him, fingers fisting into the front of his henley like your body finally recognized where it was meant to belong.

The kiss deepened — slow, hot, careful, then not-so-careful.

Dean pulled you flush against him, one hand sliding down to rest at your waist, gripping tight like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You let out a soft, shaky sound into his mouth — something between a gasp and a whimper — and felt his whole body tense in response.

He pulled back just enough to search your face. “Tell me if this is too fast. I mean it.”

“It’s not,” you said. “Dean… I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His expression softened. “Me too.”

He kissed you again — more urgent now, more certain — and walked you back toward the bed. His hands were everywhere, warm and calloused, reverent as they slipped beneath your shirt, memorizing the feel of you like he’d dreamed it more times than he could count.

When your shirt came off, he stared like you were sacred.

“God,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

Your hands trembled when you pulled his shirt over his head. The soft light of the bunker caught the scar across his collarbone, the curve of muscle, the slight freckle near his ribs you’d noticed years ago and never forgotten.

You touched him like the letters — slow and sure and aching. He groaned low in his throat when your palms slid across his chest.

“Lie back,” he said, voice thick. “Let me take care of you.”

You did.

Dean kissed every inch of skin he uncovered — from your collarbone to your stomach, your hips, the inside of your thighs. His hands gripped you like he was terrified you’d vanish if he let go. He kissed like he was still writing to you, but now with his mouth and body — all the things he couldn’t say poured out in sighs and touches.

When his mouth found the place between your legs, you gasped — arching into him, fingers buried in his hair.

“Dean—”

He groaned against you like your voice undid him.

You tried to speak — to tell him how good it felt, how long you’d dreamed about this — but your words fell apart under the heat of his tongue and the rhythm he set. Slow. Devoted. The kind of touch that said I’ve thought about this a hundred different ways, but nothing compares to the real thing.

When you came, it was with a cry of his name, your thighs trembling around his shoulders, your whole body curling in on itself.

He kissed your inner thigh, then crawled back up your body and kissed your lips like he wanted to taste the sound you’d just made.

“Still with me?” he asked, eyes full of warmth and wonder.

You nodded, dazed and smiling. “Still here.”

“Good.” He kissed your forehead. “Because I’m not done.”

Later, when he finally wrapped you in his arms on that old mattress, the letters still sat on the desk. Open. Read. Finally seen.

“I was gonna burn them one day,” he murmured into your hair.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “They’re part of us now.”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I don’t need the drawer anymore.”

Liz talks : GUESS WHOS BACK!! HEYYY did you miss me cause i missed all of you <33 I am so sorry about being away for so long but this app was lowkey draining me, but we should be all good now !! I hope you all enjoy this sweet little thing :))

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy , @tinas111 , @kimxwinchester @deansbbyx , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @sapphic-destiel , @mochiclouds , @ladykitana90

To be added to my tag list check out this post !!

To check out my masterlist look at this post !!

570 notes · View notes

marvelwitchergilmore · 10 days ago

Text

Honey

Summary: Beau Arlen x Fe!Reader -> You and Beau have been partners and friends for a long time, but when you get sick, he comes to take care of you. From there on out, things begin to change.

Disclaimer: mdni 18+ -- this does contain smut, a little dirty talk and swearing. Also brief mentions/descriptions of illegal activity and crime cases. Beau being an excellent care taker, multiple nicknames, slight undercover work, oblivious idiots, mutual pining, fluff, mention of periods and the flu, coworker/friends to lovers. Not fully proof read.

“What are you doing here?”

Through hooded eyes, you watched as Beau looked you over and grimaced. “Wanted to make sure you were still alive.”

“Oh,” you nodded.

Turning around, you left the door open for him to step inside and close it himself. Beau watched as practically shuffled your way down the hall and towards the kitchen. You looked dead on your feet.

“I called you three times, you never answered.” Beau called somewhere behind you.

You were almost at the entryway for your kitchen. “I was asleep.”

For a moment, you paused by the doorway. Getting over the flu and then being hit with a heavy period was not a good mix. However, before you could move again, you were suddenly scooped off your feet.

Beau had watched through the small slit in the curtains of your front door. You looked like hell. And then watching you walk away and stop? There wasn’t a chance he was going to let you leave your bed until you were better.

The three missed phone calls should have told him.

So, with one arm, he scooped under your legs and carried you from the doorway, past the kitchen island and down the small steps into your open living room.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Making sure you get some rest.”

As he laid you back on your pile of blankets on the sofa, you watched as he walked to the other side of your living room and down the hallway. He returned a few seconds later.

“Where are your bedsheets?”

You nodded over the laundry room door in your kitchen. “In the wash. I, uh,” you scratched the back of your head.

You really needed to wash your hair.

“I bled through- wait. Beau, what are you-”

You heard the dryer come to a stop and the metal lid open.

“What are you doing?”

Back in the doorway of your laundry room, Beau appeared wrangling your fresh bed sheets. “Makin’ your bed.”

He said it as if it was nothing. Just like he did when he picked you up and when he showed up at your front door.

He was often like that. Said things – did things – as if they were nothing. Just another Tuesday. A cup of coffee brewed just how you like it appearing on your desk when you're elbow-deep in paperwork, a homemade sandwich with your favourite fillings, changing the oil in your car on his day off.

“Beau, you really don’t-”

He smiled. “You just relax, sweetheart. I can handle a change of sheets.”

“I know, but you don’t-”

Again, he was gone.

Any other day, you would have followed him and taken the sheets from him. He always said you were too independent. You apologised for it once, but he shook his head.

“No, no, no. Don’t apologise. It’s a good quality.” He had told you. “I just want you to know you don’t have to do it alone. When Pop calls you, call me. I’ll join you.”

You’d been in Montana for two years before Beau had joined as the new Sheriff. You mostly worked alone. Sometimes one of the cops would join you, but it was rare.

Until Beau.

Whilst Pop had been put on rotation with Jenny, Beau had joined you. He was, in a roundabout way, your new partner. He was chatty, which you didn’t mind. It was nice to not have to listen to the same six songs on the radio everyday.

You even managed to become friends outside of the job. Hence why, after six months, it wasn’t all that surprising to walk out to your front porch and find Beau tinkering in your garage.

The first time it happened, you’d just made your morning coffee and walked out to your porch like every Saturday morning. Usually, it was quiet.

Usually.

Until you heard a soft string of curse words come from your garage. “Beau?!”

“Oh, hey,” he laughed a little.

“Is there a reason you’re in my garage on a Saturday morning?” You peeked around him. “Changing my tire?”

That had just been the first of many. You had invited him in for a coffee ten minutes later. From then on, it became less surprising to find him around your home on your days off. And Saturday morning coffee also became a ritual.

By the time you managed to pull yourself from the sofa to drag yourself into your bedroom, you found Beau shaking your duvet into the cover.

Looking over his shoulder at you for a second, he smiled and then turned back to making your bed. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s good, but you really didn’t have to-”

“I also laid some sheets down under your covers to help with the-” He motioned to the lower part of his body before waving his hand over towards you. “You know.”

You smiled a little. The man could deal with dead bodies and criminals all day. He could even buy sanitary towels from the market for you (and Hoyt) which he’d done more than once in the three years he’d been Sheriff.

But saying the word?

That made him feel a little awkward.

“Thank you, Beau. Seriously.”

He shrugged a little as he neatened out the overturn in your duvet cover. “Not a problem. You’ve been working a lot of overtime lately and you’re run down. It’s the least someone could do.”

“Well, still. Thank you.”

For a moment, Beau looked up at you and smiled. Then he stood up. “I, uh, I also got some fresh towels out for you in case you wanted to, you know, take a shower or a bath. When Em first got her period, I did some research. Maybe a little too much. Baths are meant to help.”

You nodded. “Yeah, that…” You looked away from the bathroom and back at Beau. “That actually sounds kinda nice. Thanks.”

Beau smiled again and finished up your bed whilst you walked towards your bathroom. You smiled again as you noticed the folded towels on the side of the sink counter. A larger one, a smaller one for your hair and a face cloth.

A few seconds later, he heard the taps of your bath beginning to run.

“Everything okay in there?” Beau called out after a minute or two.

“Everything’s fine,” you called back. Then he appeared by the door.

“You went quiet, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fainted or something.”

A small chuckle rose from you. “Well, I’m all good here.”

“C’mere,” Beau suddenly stepped towards you, his hand to your head. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

You nodded, moving his hand away. “Beau, I’m fine. I swear. It’s just the flu, and my period. I’m fine. What’s got you so worried?”

Beau hummed and stepped back. “Couple of the officers called in sick today. One of them checked into the hospital. They’re running tests to make sure it’s nothing more serious.”

“Well,” you said. “I went to the doctors over a week ago. It’s just the normal flu. I haven’t had it in a while, so it’s decided to kick me ass. But, I swear. I’m okay.”

Beau nodded. “I’ll go and make you some tea. You relax in the bath.”

“You don’t have to stay, you know!”

“I know!” He called back down the hallway. “But, it’s either me or Denise, so…”

“Fine!”

You chuckled once more to yourself. You loved Denise, but whenever you were sick, she was known to be a tad overbearing. Beau, at least, gave you a little space. Where Denise would be physically washing your hair, Beau was in your kitchen making you a cup of tea.

Not that you would be complaining if Beau offered to wash your hair.

Forty minutes later, you left your bathroom and found a fresh set of pajamas on your bed. They were still warm and smelled like fresh washing.

“Hey,” you said as you entered your kitchen.

Beau had taken off his jacket and his boots. With an apron around his waist, he was stirring something on your stove.

“Hey, how ya’ feelin’?”

As you sat down by your kitchen island, you looked around your home. It was cleaner than when he’d carried you over to the sofa. The half-eaten leftovers you’d opened were gone, the tupperware was drying by your sink. The blankets were folded and lay over your sofa. The cushions had been neatened and the place smelled like citrus.

“Better, thanks. Did you clean?”

“Oh, yeah. Disinfected everything so you shouldn’t contract the flu again, for a while.” Beau told you. “And now, I’m making you some soup. Old family recipe.”

You listened as Beau went on a long winded story about how his grandmother came to learn the family recipe of her ‘Golden’ soup.

Golden because it was chicken, and because it could cure almost any illness.

Half an hour later, you were laying back on your sofa, Beau beside you as an old rerun played on your TV screen.

For a while, you both just talked. Beau caught you up on work and the cases he was covering, as well as what Pop and Jenny had been up to. You asked about Emily and Carla. Emily would be applying for colleges soon, which was making him realise just how much she’s grown.

You smiled and listened as he told you some stories about when she was just a kid. The memories they shared together.

“Just because she’s gonna be flying the nest doesn’t mean she won’t fly back, Beau.”

He nodded. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t so far away.”

“You can always visit.”

“Yeah, but what kid wants their dad visiting them whilst they have their own lives? Who’s a cop, no less.”

You nodded. “Well, she can always fly back. And one perk of the twenty-first century is that facetime exists.”

You watched as Beau nodded. Then you reached out for his hand.

“She’ll be okay, Beau.”

“I know.”

After that, the conversation fell away in replace of the 90s laugh track on the screen. And before you knew it, you fell asleep.

Beau chuckled mid-way through another episode and turned to gauge your reaction, but when he saw you fast asleep, your hand barely a finger space from his hand, a light smile ghosted across his face.

He moved slowly enough to not disturb you and he shut off the TV, scooped you up and carried you down the hall and towards your bedroom. Once he had you tucked under the covers, he moved to flick off the lamp.

But, before he did, he paused for a moment.

He’d known you for three years. He’d seen every mood, every expression and every feeling pass across your face. But, for the first time, he was seeing you…relaxed. Not tensed as you slept, hunched over your desk. Not on edge despite being in a deep sleep.

You were genuinely, truly, relaxed.

He made sure your windows were still on the latch before he closed your bedroom door and took a tour around your home to make sure the place was fully secure. Finally, he locked your front door before he headed towards your spare bedroom.

The pajama set he’d brought around the last time he’d stayed over was freshly washed and folded in the drawers, right beside the one’s Jenny, Cassie and Denise had left whenever they had last stayed overnight.

Your house was the closest to the Police Department in town, so it just made more sense to stay over, right? And since the weekend was only a couple of hours away, he would have been round in the morning anyway.

So, he stayed. And like always, he fell asleep once his head hit the pillow.

There was something about you and your home that relaxed him. More than his own home did.

If he was to ask Emily, she would just tell him what she's been telling him for the last two years. That he liked you. Loved you. But, you were his partner. You both worked together.

And, you were friends.

By the time morning fully rolled around, it was a little before eleven that you finally woke up.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Beau smiled as you walked into the living room.

You were shocked. But, you were more shocked and how you weren’t surprised Beau had stayed the night.

“You’re still here?”

Beau nodded as he wiped down the crumbs from your counter. “Wanted to make sure you were okay. Also, I made biscuits.”

“You can bake?”

Then you saw a smirk flutter onto his face. “Wouldn’t be fun if I let you know all my secrets, sweetheart.”

Feeling a blush creep up on your face, you turned away for a moment to try and calm yourself.

Nicknames in general have never really affected you. You didn’t mind them from time to time, but overall, they were rarely used when speaking to you.

But coming from Beau?

There was something so…genuine about the way he said them. They rolled off his tongue like a second nature.

“Up for some coffee?”

You nodded. “Please.”

Beau smiled. “Good. Feeling any better?”

You watched as Beau pulled your favourite mug down from its place inside your cupboard and poured you a cup of coffee, just the way you liked it.

“Well, my body had stopped attacking me from the inside,” you told him. “For now, at least. I took some painkillers.”

“Tell me if they flare up again. I can make you a hot water bottle.”

You smiled with thanks. “Are you planning on staying here all day?”

“Only if you want me to.”

The way he was looking at you over the rim of his own mug made your stomach go from hoarding butterflies to creating its own mini tornado. Despite the softness of his gaze, there was something heated about it.

You shrugged a little as you lowered your own mug from your lips. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Then I’ll stay,” Beau said. “Until you call Jenny to kick me out.”

You laughed. “Okay then.”

Most of the day, you and Beau spent time within each other's space. Conversations would start up and flow easily, but each time they floated away, it didn’t feel awkward. In fact, it felt normal.

Staying in the quiet, knowing you're both not alone.

Beau surprised you with lunch, presenting it to you as you rested on the sofa, already halfway through a new book. Then, sitting across from you, one knee bent curled up on the seat he was on, he read over a few of his case files.

By the time night fell, you had chosen a movie – mostly for background noise as you helped Beau go over his cases. He tried to stop you. Even told you not to touch the files when he went to the bathroom, but when he came back, you were already looking through the second one.

“I’ll call the M.E. on Monday. Maybe they can test a couple extra swabs and see if anything hits.”

You nodded in agreement and watched as Beau stretched himself backwards, his untucked shirt riding up his front a little. Just enough for you to catch a glimpse of solid muscle.

You looked away as quickly as you looked at him. Only, when you eventually did look back at him, he had that look in his eyes again. Soft, but…something hidden.

“I better go,” Beau told you. “Give you some space before you come back to work next week.”

You nodded, but something in the back of your head was screaming at you to make him stay.

“Sure you’ll be okay?” He asked.

Reluctantly, you nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got enough of Grandma’s Golden Soup to see me through the winter.”

Beau chuckled. “She usually cooked for the street. Guess I forgot to accommodate it for just the two of us.”

“Thank you, Beau. For everything.”

He just smiled. “You never have to thank me, darlin’. You…you do a lot. For this town, for your neighbours, for me. You don’t…” He swallowed and looked down at his feet for a moment before looking back at you. “You never have to thank me, okay?”

You didn’t quite know what to say. So, you just nodded. “Okay.”

“See you on Monday?”

You nodded. “See you on Monday, Sheriff.”

Beau smiled as he turned and hooked his jacket from the hall before closing your door as he left. And as you heard him pull away from your drive and down the road, you couldn’t help but look around your home.

It was too quiet.

By Monday, the noise was back.

Being back at the station, you were thrown right back into it. Beau admitted he wanted to ease you in since you’d been off with the flu for just over a week, but you were happy to be back.

You enjoyed your alone time. But, being alone all the time – especially when your home felt so full when he was with you…

You’d missed work. It kept the professional line clear for your head, no matter what your heart wanted to say back.

However, it was barely two months later when that professional line started to become less clear to you.

It had started as an undercover stint. Well, half of one.

You and Beau had been investigating a case that had led you both to a highly conservative talk at a conference centre that was potentially being used as a front for off the books prescription drugs.

When the two first responding officers had arrived, the entire place seemed to get shut off. They said construction was going on and it wasn’t safe for civilians, hence why it was strictly out of bounds.

So, entering the building, Beau took one look around and improvised.

As you walked away to look around, Beau introduced himself to the head of the reception.

“We’re not really open to the public-”

“Sir,” Beau pleaded. “My wife and I, we’ve heard a lot about this place. It was recommended to us by our friends, Sharon and Rudy?”

“Who-”

“I’m sure you’ve seen them around. Rudy always has his tie a little too long for his shirt. Apparently his pa never taught him properly,” Beau laughed off. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You hummed as you stood, then realised what he had called you. It took you a few seconds to realise why, however.

You smiled and came to Beau’s open arm. “Yes. His pa died early on. You, uh-”

You faltered for a moment, feeling Beau’s hand slide down your back and pull your holser around your belt smoothly before he unclipped your badge and stuffed it into your back pocket.

Though the receptionist seemed none the wiser.

It took ten minutes for Beau to convince him to let you both sit in on the talk. And, since you weren’t official members yet, you sat at the back in the corner. Which gave you both the perfect opportunity to sneak out and look around whilst you had the chance.

“Sorry about earlier,” Beau told you when you finally made it back to his car. “I figured if he saw the badge-”

“You did the right thing, don’t worry about it.”

Beau looked out the front of his car. “We better go before they drag us back inside.”

You nodded, turning to pull on your seatbelt. Then, you were back on the road.

Only, the feeling kept playing over in your mind. The way he so naturally said honey. The way his hand felt against your lower back. The way you molded into him when he pulled at your holster and slid your badge to keep it hidden.

And, it happened again three days later.

You and Beau had stopped off to grab a drink from the gas station when one of the members turned around from the check-out and ran into Beau.

They recognised him instantly.

“Are you road tripping with your wife?”

Beau smiled. “Uh, we’re just, you know, taking a drive, seeing the sights.”

“Is she with you?”

Beau nodded and turned to find you. “Honey?”

You took a short moment before standing up. Then you smiled.

Oh shit.

“Everything okay?”

Beau nodded, bringing you into his side. “Everything’s just fine, darlin’. I just ran into Yvette. She asked if we’re road tripping.”

You turned and smiled at the lady. “Oh, no. Just…taking a drive, you know? It’s a nice way to spend some quality time together.”

“You know, that’s very true. Bernie and I usually head towards this small little diner off the Interstate. You know, you should join us sometime.”

You and Beau smiled. “That sounds lovely.”

“Well,” Beau smiled and tipped his hat to the lady. “We best get going. Right, honey?”

“Right. It was lovely to see you again.”

“You too, hunny. Bye now.”

“Bye.”

Once Beau paid and you both climbed back into his car, you took a breath.

“That was a close one.” Beau said, first.

“Good thinking with the honey thing.”

Beau nodded at first, then looked at you. “What honey thing?”

“You…” You looked at him confused. “You called me honey. It’s…you called it me back when we first went to that place.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

Though there was something in his eyes and his tone that told you Beau didn’t fully realise that he had a specific nickname for the moment.

Maybe it really did come as a second nature.

“We better go before they come back and try to drag us with them.”

Beau nodded and put his key in the ignition. “You’re right.”

However, back in his office, he seemed to be in his own head. He knew he called you honey. Of course he did. But…was it really just because you were undercover with him?

Maybe everything that had been in his head for the last three days had been exactly that. In his head. The feeling of your hand on his side, your fingers biting into his hip a little. The look you gave him over your coffee mug a few weeks ago. Maybe the blush on your face was just because you were running a fever?

“...stupid.”

“Who’s stupid?” Denise asked as she entered his office.

“Nobody,” he smiled. “Just…talking to myself.”

“Well, if it’s about how you haven’t made a move on Y/n yet, then I’m inclined to agree with you. That girl’s too stubborn to make the first move. If anyone’s gonna do it, it’s gonna have to be you.”

Beau could feel his face going bright red. “Detective Y/n and I-”

“Detective now, is it?” Denise asked as she laid down her plate on the desk. “Trying to convince yourself to stay professional? You like her, just admit it!”

Beau had to change the subject. And he did. To the cobbler Denise had made.

“Thought I’d bring you a slice since Jenny told me you haven’t left your office since you got back with Detective Y/n earlier. Did something happen?”

Denise handed him a fork before sitting on the edge of his desk.

“We got recognised as a couple from when we went undercover and…I don’t know. There was something…real, about it all, you know? I called her Honey.”

Denise shrugged. “What’s so wrong with that?”

Beau shrugged. “I…I don’t know. I just…I can’t even make sense of it myself.”

“Well,” Denise stood. “When you figure it out-”

“Come and find you?”

Denise stopped at the door for a moment. “No. Go and find her.”

Beau paused before swallowing his mouthful of cobbler. Then Denise turned around to find you approaching.

“Detective,” she smiled before you entered.

“Hey, D. Uh, Beau? I think I’ve got something.”

Beau stood and walked towards you, trying his best to ignore Denise’s mimes as she left the precinct.

“What’ve you got?”

Four days later, you and most of the cops in the office were booking each member of the conference for possession of illegal drugs, as well as making sales.

“Hey,” Beau’s hand lay on your shoulder, shaking you awake from the sleep station. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Are you finished?”

“You are. Come on.”

Beau drove you home ten minutes later. “Want something to drink?”

“No, I’m…actually, can I have some coffee? The one down at the station is just-”

“Terrible,” you nodded. “Coffee coming right up.”

Under your sink, you reached for a coffee flask before washing it out. Meanwhile, Beau leaned his backside against the counter so he was facing you.

“You should come in mid-day tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Get some rest. We’ve all been on the clock too long. Midday. No sooner.”

You chuckled and gave a small salute. “Yes, sir.”

Beau remained quiet after that, save for the fact his eyes remained on you.

“Hand me a dish towel?”

Beau broke out of his trace if only for a moment to pass you the drying cloth. And, while you tried your best to keep your eyes from him, the need to look at him only seemed to grow more intense.

“Denise.” Beau began, scratching his brow. “She, uh, she said something to me a while back.”

“What? Like you know how to fill in a good pair of wranglers?”

Beau blushed. “No, well, yeah. Kinda. But, not- not this. She, uh, she said something to me about…you.”

“Me?” You asked as you began to pour him his freshly brewed coffee. “What for? Oh, I swear if this is about preparing the barbeque for summer, I’m not doing it. Not after last years fiasco-”

Beau chuckled and turned towards you a little more. “No, no. Not that. She actually…”

“You’re not one to mince your words, Beau. Just spit it out.”

“She said that you’re too stubborn to make the first move.”

Something dropped in your gut but you desperately tried to hide it. “She did?”

Beau bit his lip and nodded with a small hum. “Yeah, she did.”

You took a little longer to look up at him, finally having twisted the lid of the coffee cup. Beau was close to you. So close in fact, you could smell the separate spots he’d sprayed his aftershave earlier in the day.

You swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes on the way his adams apple bobbed as he looked at you.

Then you met his gaze.

Heated. Longing. Curious.

“So…” Your voice dropped to a whisper. You could feel yourself leaning closer towards him. “So why are you asking me?”

Beau’s own voice seemed to drop, too. A deep whisper. A secret conversation despite your isolation together in your home.

“Because I want to know if it’s true.”

Your breath hitched in your chest as you felt his fingers hesitantly touch your hip. But when your eyes closed and you leaned into him, his grip became a little firmer.

“Beau…”

“I like you, Y/n. And I know what complicates things between us…big time.”

You nodded. “You’re…you’re my boss.”

“On a technicality,” he told you. “We all know who keeps that place going.”

You smiled but it soon disappeared.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

Beau nodded. “We shouldn’t.”

Your eyes remained fixed on his. “No…no matter how much I want you to.”

Beau nodded. “No matter how much I want to.”

The longer your gaze remained on his face, the more you saw. Almost as if you were trying to memorise every inch of him. The way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he moved, the way he felt.

However, with a single touch from Beau’s thumb on your lip, an agreement was made between you both.

Screw the rules.

Screw the fear.

“Fuck it,” you whispered before leaning in.

Beau kissed you back instantly. He was like a man starved; pressing his lips against yours, taking a breath as he kissed you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip, a small clash of teeth as Beau’s grip on your hips pulled you closer to his belt buckle.

As your moan was swallowed by his kiss, a deep growl left his chest. It wasn’t long before you found your back against your kitchen cupboard, the back of your hands slamming against them as Beau lifted your hands in his and pinned you in.

As he cupped your wrists in one hand, above your head, his other hand moved down your body to circle at your waist to pull you closer to the edge.

Between your legs, you could feel his erection swelling in his jeans and pushing against your centre. So, to burn off a little of the ache that was weighing inside of you, you started to move.

With each swipe, Beau groaned.

“Whoa, hey, baby. Slow-” Beau kept taking a break between his words to keep kissing you. Until the feeling was too much. “Slow down.”

“Is everything okay?”

He’d practically stipped your lungs of oxygen.

With his eyes closed, he leaned his forehead against your own and tried to concentrate.

“You’ve gotta slow down, honey.”

“Why? Is everything-”

A hoarse voice left his chest, “Fuck-”

“Beau, talk to me.”

Beau tried to catch his breath. “I feel like a goddamn fucking teenager. Honey, you’ve gotta slow down before I cum in my pants.”

A breathy laugh left you. “I turn you on that much, baby?”

Beau groaned and leaned into you, his mouth finding your pulse point. “Such a fucking tease, honey. Such a dirty fucking tease.”

You gasped, feeling his hand squeeze at your ass whilst his tongue dampened the graze of his teeth.

The rest of the night became a blur of wet and torn clothing, desperate moans, delicious bruises, and a couple of broken bed slats beneath your mattress.

By the time you woke up in the morning, you smiled at the feeling of Beau’s kiss trailing up your spine. By the time he reached your neck, his calloused hand ran down your side and gripped at your hip, pulling you closer into him.

“Mornin’ darlin’.”

You hummed with a smile. “Morning, Sheriff.”

Rolling onto your back a little, Beau leaned down and kissed you. You could feel his smirk when his fingers danced under the bed sheet and dipped in between your legs, just before your legs clamped around him.

“What time is it?”

Beau looked at the clock beside your bed. “A little after seven. Why?”

You smiled as you kissed him again. “So I know there’s plenty of time for this.”

You surprised him as you quickly flipped him onto his back, his fingers still inside of you as you straddled him.

A chuckle left him as you leaned down, one of your hands running between you both to stoke at him.

“Nice moves, Detective.”

You smirked as you kissed him, knowing it was killing him to not be inside of you yet. Especially when you slowly ran your cunt over the head of his cock.

“Fuck, honey.”

You kissed his collarbone whilst you kept your eyes on his face. His entire body tensed. And then you finally let him slip inside of you.

You watched him as his gaze remained focused on the way you were taking him in, coating every inch of him. Then he watched you. With his fingers slowly pumping against your clit, his other hand gripped your hip in order to keep you steady.

Just as you began to play with yourself, Beau sat up and took one of your nipples into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl over the pebbling.

Just as you began to circle your hips over his cock, his mouth trailed to the soft skin under your breast. Grazing his teeth across it, he stopped after a short moment and took it into his mouth, sucking and licking until he knew his love bite had taken hold.

“Takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey.” Beau moaned as he leaned into you, his tongue trailing across your collarbone.

Keeping a steady rhythm against your clit, he started to feel your walls pulsing around him.

“Keep going, honey. Fuck- That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” Beau said. With his arm wrapped around your lower back, he kept you pinned against him as his own pace picked up.

He whispered it again. And, with a third time's charm, it was your undoing.

You pulled him closer as your walls pulled around him and sent your vision blinding with stars. Then you felt him, cum inside you for the fourth time since the kitchen just a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” you were breathless.

After a few moments, Beau slowly moved you until you were laying back down facing him. He took care, lifting your leg a little, the burn pinching at your muscles, as he removed himself from you and watched as your juices swirled with his own.

You watched, too, before you bit your lip and rolled your head back when you felt his fingers curl against you, pushing them back inside of you.

“Don’t move,” he told you.

“I don’t think I can walk.”

Beau chuckled as he removed himself from the bed and went towards your bathroom to grab a warm cloth to wipe you down with.

Once he was back in bed, he pulled you into his side and for the first time in months, you both fell back to sleep.