#aidenswriting

[draconicace]

i'm never going to write this as a fic so i'm releasing it to the wild. behold: the au where harry has a forgotten roommate named edward who is very super normal and boring. kim pov

imagine: you are a police detective getting back from a week-long murder case. a lot's happened: you got concussed, a war might break out soon, you're transferring precincts, and you've got a new partner. said partner is quaking in the boots he picked up during said murder investigation. he is terrified of the piece of his past you two are about to face. you are outside his apartment, decked out with enough cleaning supplies to fix up a particularly gruesome crime scene. if the apartment is anything like the hostel room your partner trashed, you are going to need every single one of them. your new partner's old partner refused to just give him the spare key, so you're picking the lock. you hear a click. you stand, pat your partner on the back once, and open the door.

it is completely normal inside. there are half-filled papers strewn about, haphazardly stacked dirty dishes in the sink, and a mysterious plastic container you cannot see the inside of in the fridge. but, otherwise, it's livable. you and your partner stand in the middle of it all, puzzling through this newly-forming investigation.

and then, suddenly—the front door opens. a man enters. he is middle-aged, like you, with a short-cropped hairstyle and a soft-looking blue cardigan.

for a moment, you think you have broken into a random person's apartment.

the man looks between you two and says, "oh, harry! you're back. how was martinaise?"

this man is harry's forgotten roommate, edward. he is nicknamed eddie, or, if you like: numbers-man. there is no story behind this nickname. he and harry have lived together for over a year, and he is skin-crawlingly bland. you hate him for no reason. it becomes a solo stereo-investigation: figure out something capital W weird about this guy. because there's no way harry could live with someone so... normal.

you find out he works as an archivist at the local museum of suzerainty history. he and harry bond over art critique. he likes sudoku. he says harry is a quirky, delightful roommate.

at a certain point, you're pretty sure the pale got you and you're seeing some strange alternate present that never happened. you only experience this feeling around edward.

eventually, you get swept up into actual cases and a plan for le retour. harry's so-normal-it's-weird roommate is but a blip on your radar.

harry's lease ends. you and he move in together, closer to the precinct. harry tells you edward has decided to live with family. he also tells you that, during a previous attempt to get sober, he remembered he'd gone looking for a stable roommate. someone who had their life together. for a good influence. so you can stop trying to find dirt on him, kim, come on, he's nice.

so edward's whole mystery is solved, you're living with your partner (both cop-partner and partner-partner), le retour is really gearing up, there's people in the streets. you don't really have time to think about harry's former roommate when revachol's freedom is on the line.

and then. and fucking then. just as the revolution is nearing its end—a clear victory on the horizon—you spot him: edward. he is fleeing towards an aerostatic, confidential papers stuffed under his arm. having spent years as harry's partner, you've gotten very, very fast at running. you chase him, you tackle him, you wrest the papers spelling a potential future doom away from him.

an hour later, you have solved your long-term stereo-investigation: edward was a moralintern spy the entire time. he'd become harry's roommate to gain rcm secrets. once harry had come back from martinaise, however, he'd stopped being an easy mark to get information from. no more important papers left on the floor to be stolen and blamed on drunken forgetfulness.

you are lauded as a hero of revachol for preventing edward's escape. after celebrations and a promise of much work to still be done, you and your partner go back to your shared apartment. there are half-filled papers strewn about, haphazardly stacked dirty dishes in the sink, and a mysterious plastic container you cannot see the inside of in the fridge. you are home.