Chapter Text
For what must have been the hundredth time, Kim reflected on how frustrating it was that one man could be so goddamn oblivious.
C-wing was bustling with the night shift’s arrival, officers drinking the first (or second, or seventh) coffee of the day, going over cases, arguing. The only two people left of the day shift were Harry, deep in thought, and Kim, deep in irritation. He’d been trying to give his partner small signs for about five minutes by now: clearing his throat, tapping his fingers, scraping his chair against the floor. No reaction from Harry. Kim sighed and decided to resort to less subtle means.
“Khm. Detective?”
“Hmm?” Harry didn’t even look up.
Kim pursed his lips. “Harry. Do you know what time it is?”
Harry shuffled through one of the piles, looking for a document. “Yeah… in the file cabinet, I think.”
“What? I asked you what time it is.”
“Hmm?” He found the paper and started reading through it. “No, I had one already.”
Kim stared at him, then shook his head in disbelief. “Officer!”
“Oh! Fuck, Kim, I’m sorry…”
It came out far sharper than he had intended, but at least it got Harry’s attention. He scrambled up, tried to shuffle the mess of papers and knocked over his coffee mug in the process. Kim watched him fumble with equal parts fondness and exasperation. As always, he was just a little confused about exactly what it was about his new partner that made the air in his lungs warm, what it was that brushed up against his heart and made it flutter. Whatever it was, it’d been building without an outlet for months now. Sitting across him, working with him, talking to him; it built and built until it was threatening to overshadow everything else in Kim’s life. He sighed.
Harry stood with the dripping papers in one hand and the almost empty cup in the other. “I, uh. I think I need some paper towels.”
Kim sighed again and marched over to the wash basin in the corner, grabbed a handful of towels, balled them up and threw them at Harry, who managed to trap them between his forearms, sloshing the last of the coffee out in the process. He looked at the mess and sighed, then started to mop up.
“Are you quite done with today’s work, detective? You’re more than an hour overdue.” Kim pointed at the clock on the wall.
Harry stopped his ineffectual dabbing and looked up, confused. “For what?”
“For gym. You remember? Monday, Wednesday, Friday, 1800 hours sharp?”
“Oh, fuck, it’s…” Harry glanced at the clock, whose arms sat squarely at 19:13. “Okay, yeah, time flies. Sorry.”
Kim tapped his fingers on his arm. “We were supposed to try and build up a routine.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” Harry gave him a sheepish grin and threw the paper towels away. “Some things just go bone deep, you know?”
“M-hm.”
Kim raised an eyebrow. Overwork seemed to be especially deeply ingrained in his new partner. Unfortunately, he recognised the same tendencies in himself, and this attempt at a routine was just as much for him as it was for Harry. They’d been trying to keep it up for two weeks now, and Harry had been late every single time. Kim grabbed the gym bag from next to the desk and jerked his head towards the basement door.
“Let’s go.”
The precinct gym was down in the basement, next to the huge and complicated boiler room, the Evidence room and the drunk tank. Back when the building was still a silk mill, the room held the troughs where cocoons were dissolved into silk thread. The only evidence left of that was the recessed concrete hole in the floor that used to be lined with copper, fed by huge pipes filled with boiling water. The copper was long gone, sold for scrap years ago; but the hole was still filled with lukewarm water and used as a makeshift swimming pool, just long and deep enough to get a decent lap in. The rest of the room was filled with mirrors, weightlifting equipment, wall bars, rubber mats and a couple treadmills. The part that shared a wall with the boiler room had been sectioned off as changing area and showers.
Kim stripped down, determined to not look at Harry, because if he did, he wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences, nice as they would be. Harry chattered on as they changed, laying out the theories he had about their most recent case: a new kind of drug that was beginning to flood the streets of Jamrock, some kind of lab-designed hallucinogen. Kim hummed in all the right places until he was sure that he could look again.
Kim had the same RCM-issued sweats and t-shirt he always had, but of course Harry had something of his own: a very clingy tank top, a pair of way-too-short-for-comfort shorts, and a truly silly headband, pink and fluffy. Kim sighed inwardly. Always with the style choices. And those shorts meant that he’d have trouble concentrating. Again.
The gym was empty at this hour, being a bit late for the day shift and too early for the night shift, just as Kim liked it. Exercising together with a bunch of macho meatheads wasn’t his idea of a good time. He looked at the racks and grimaced. It really wasn’t a good idea to start without a warmup, but he loathed using the weights, and he was already irritated and wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible. As he picked out a dumbbell and started doing reps, Harry started with a warm-up. Of course. Always a stickler for good form at least when it came to training.
Kim got lost in thought doing the repetitive, boring motions, thinking of the thing that’d been on his mind constantly for the last months – Harry, and what he wanted, or rather, needed, to do about him.
At least there was one thing he didn’t have to worry about – Harry was definitely some flavour of queer. That much, at least, was clear to Kim. It didn’t even take any research to get to that conclusion. Besides his behaviour during the Martinaise case, he’d been asking Kim things about the ‘homo-sexual underground’ constantly afterwards. Kim didn’t really know where the hell Harry got that term from, but it was the first thing he convinced him to stop saying. That had worked, at least, which made everything else just a bit less awkward. A little bit.
He’d been smart enough not to ask questions at work, or in front of colleagues. Kim appreciated the restraint; it wasn’t like he had much of it, otherwise. But just this once he’d been able to keep things private. When he had Kim for himself however… oh, there had been so many questions. Things like, ‘if I fantasise about men like this what does that make me?’ Or, ‘I saw this picture of a dude wearing a dress and I thought that was really hot, what does that mean?’ Or, yes, Kim’s favourite so far: ‘hey, Kim, I read this thing in a magazine. What does bear mean? I don’t think they’re talking about animals.’
Harry had worked up enough of a sweat to start on the weights as well, and was fiddling with a barbell, sliding on plates and securing them. He took some chalk and dusted his hands, then gripped the barbell.
“Hey, Kim! Watch this!”
Kim looked over at him. When he was sure he had Kim’s attention, he lifted the barbell in a pretty smooth clean and jerk, and held it above his head.
“Well done, detective. Good form.” Kim gave him a smile. Harry was always trying to impress him like this.
Harry beamed and let the barbell fall to the floor, then strapped on a pair of boxing gloves and went to town on a sandbag.
Kim changed hands and allowed himself to steal another glance at him, jabbing and feinting against the inoffensive sandbag. Harry looked much better than when they first met. He’d had a rocky start, but they’d celebrated six month of sobriety a couple weeks ago. Combined with regular training and actual food meant he looked…
Kim had to close his eyes for a second.
He had to admit it. He looked goddamn good, and he wanted him so goddamn bad. He wanted to push him down on a bed, tear his shirt off, bury his face in that hairy chest, kiss him and ride him until he whimpered and moaned.
Kim gripped the dumbbell tighter and tried to banish the fantasy. That wasn’t happening. Not right now. Not for lack of wanting it; if simply wanting it would have made it happen, he’d have been in bed with him weeks ago. He sighed. Here was the basic problem: Kim didn’t really… act. He’d been propositioned, asked out, approached – relationships and hook-ups, while nice and welcome, had happened to him, not by him. And of course, they’d become fewer and fewer as the years dragged on. He got his hopes up in the beginning, when Harry asked all those questions, but then – nothing. Months had gone by and Harry hadn’t done anything, not even more questions. Kim was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware that Kim had any interest in him.
He hesitated, the dumbbell forgotten, suspended in mid-air while his brain worked overtime. There was one simple and clear solution, of course.
God damn it. I’ll have to seduce him.
Problem was, Kim had never seduced anyone in his entire life. How do you make your intentions clear to someone who’s so obviously not interested?
“Hey, Kim! Kim? Check this out!”
Kim shook his head, trying to focus. Harry was doing some kind of complicated punch combination against the sandbag, finishing it off with a kick that made it swing wildly.
“That’s impressive, Harry. Well done.”
Harry beamed again, looking like a sweaty sun.
Kim put the weights away and jumped on the treadmill to try and clear his head. He needed to come up with a plan, and it needed to be a good one. A meticulously crafted, water-proof plan. And he needed assistance.
A few evenings later, Kim managed to work up enough of a nerve to make a phone call to the only person he trusted with something as delicate as this.
“Four-five-eight-eight-six, who’s speaking?”
“Alice?”
“Kim!” Alice DeMettrie’s voice on the other end changed from business-like to warm in seconds. “Nice hearing from you! How’s everything at the 41st?”
“It’s going. Lots to handle.” Kim twisted the telephone cord around his finger. “Listen, Alice… do you have time to meet up?”
“Of course! It’s been too long.” He could hear the happiness in her voice through the line. “I’ve been thinking of calling you, but you know how the schedules are. You want to go out and grab a bite somewhere?”
“No, I was thinking you could come to my new place?”
“I’d love to!”
Kim gave his flat a quick once-over. It’d only been a few weeks since he moved in, and there were still a few boxes to unpack, but it was organised enough that he could have people over. If you ever had people over, a mean little voice whispered. He tried to ignore it.
“Great. Tomorrow at seven?”
“It’s a date. See you, darling. Mwah!” She made a little kissy noise and hung up.
Alice arrived right on the stroke of seven, bringing a plant and a bottle of wine. They chatted idly about old colleagues and new problems as Kim uncorked the bottle and made sure the dinner was getting on without burning.
“Any news on the Kineema transfer?”
“Nope,” Alice said. “Still stuck in processing. I’m pretty sure they’re just doing it out of spite, now. This where you keep the plates?”
Kim sighed and gave her a nod. “Yes. A plate and a bowl each. Seriously? It’s been months.”
“Yeah, I think that Wollenberg guy has it out for you. Don’t worry, they don’t have any reason not to approve it. I’ll try to get dad to lean on him a bit. It’ll clear up.” She poured a generous measure of burgundy red wine in each of their glasses, then gave him a keen glance. “But you didn’t invite me here to talk about your beloved car, did you?”
“Khm. I don’t know what you mean.” Kim fiddled with the ladle, trying to avoid her eyes.
“Come on. I know you, Kim. Something’s going on.”
Kim put the cast iron pot down on the table and gave her a sharp look.
Alice was the only person at the 57th that he really got close to. She grew up at the precinct, and Kim had known her since her name was Marcel, even if that was a name he’d almost completely forgotten by now, dead and buried. Even if they were quite different, they both had similar problems – in her case, it was a father’s overbearing protection that kept her from advancing, pigeonholing her as a communications officer, safe and secure inside the precinct rather than letting her graduate to the field work that would expose her to a harsh, uncaring world.
Despite that, Alice had the keen instincts of a detective, and Kim quickly found that he enjoyed bouncing ideas off her. It began as a favour to her, to let her do something else than just relay other people’s cases; but as soon as he recognised her eye for detail, it evolved into genuine intellectual stimulation for both of them. In addition, like him, Alice knew about the parts of the city that were closed off to others: the undergrounds. Having her to talk about that had been irreplaceable, and it’d helped him solve more than one case involving people outside the norm.
Basically, Kim wasn’t the least bit surprised that Alice knew something was off. She didn’t have the uncanny, almost supernatural people-reading skills as Harry, but she was damn near close for someone who didn’t have the support of an entire city.
He ladled some stew onto her plate and gave her a quick, wry grin. “Fine. You want to do the honours?”
“This has something to do with your new partner, hasn’t it?” She wiggled a finger at him, laughter in her eyes. “I do believe that Kim Kitsuragi has a crush!”
Kim nearly spilled stew on the tablecloth. That was unusually fast deducting, even for Alice. He cleared his throat and concentrated, filling his own plate.
“How did you figure that out so fast?”
“I have my ways.” She studied her fingernails coolly. “So I’m right?”
Kim pushed the breadbasket towards her. “Fine. Yes. You’re right.”
She nodded and took a piece of bread. “Interesting choice. Volatile. Expressive. Intelligent.” She ripped a piece off and gave him a meaningful glance. “Huge biceps.”
“Khm. Sure. So you know him?”
“I know about him,” she said vaguely. “Who doesn’t know about The Human Can-Opener? I mean, we spoke on the radio, of course, but I’ve only met him once. He does seem your type, though.” Alice grinned at him. “So, what are you planning to do about this crush of yours, then?”
Kim sighed and tried to think through what it actually was that he wanted to do. Alice watched him over the rim of the wine glass, a light smirk on her lips.
“So. I… I’d like to make it obvious to him that I’m… interested. But I don’t know if he is. It could get… very awkward. So I thought I’d. Ah. See if he’s interested. Slowly.”
“Oooh. You want to seduce him?”
“Khm. Perhaps.”
“I have to say, I’m a bit impressed,” she said and swirled the wine around. “This is far out of your usual comfort zone.”
“I know.” Kim grimaced. “That’s why I need some assistance. I know you’re not shy when it comes to this.”
“A girl needs to make her own luck in this world.” She dipped some bread in the stew and chewed thoughtfully. “Okay. You need more info, obviously. So step one should be research. Right?”
“Hm. Yes.” Kim paused, fork halfway to his mouth. What did he know, so far?
Alice derailed his train of thought with a light kick to the shin. “Dinner first, then planning,” she said with a grin.
After dinner, Alice sat down cross-legged on the living room floor, a cup of tea on one hand and a paper in the other. “Okay. This is my plan.” She started to scribble. “Step one is research, as I said. Then, step two, you need to approach him in some way. Subtly, friendly. Total deniability in this part of the plan, right?”
Kim looked over her shoulder. “Right.”
“Good. Then dinner. Some good quality time to get to know each other. Still deniability here, but the way to a man’s lungs goes through his stomach, yadda yadda.” She continued scribbling. “Then a date, of course, can’t go wrong with that… then you have to summon your inner wildcat, Kim.” She pointed the pencil at him.
Kim frowned. “For what?”
“For pouncing on that bear,” she grinned. “Eyes on the kibble, kitty cat.” She added two more lines. “How’s this for a plan?”
Kim took the paper.
Comfort zone obliteration game plan
- Research
- Approach
- Dinner
- Date
- Seduction
- Fuck Harry’s brains out
- Boyfriend??
Kim felt his ears go warm. “Khm. We should maybe think about amending step six, there.”
Alice put the tea down and punched him on the knee. “Absolutely not. You need to get laid.” Her eyes glittered. “You both do.”
Kim threw the paper back at her, ears glowing. “Okay, fine. But you could have been more subtle about it.”
“Do I strike you as a subtle woman, lieutenant Kitsuragi?” She stifled a laugh, then tapped on the paper. “I’m noticing you’re not complaining about step seven?”
Kim sat down on the sofa and tried to drown his embarrassment in the tea cup. “Well, it’s… I mean. If it would get that far.”
“Isn’t that the whole point? Unless you’re satisfied with stopping at step six, of course.”
“God, you’re incorrigible.”
“That’s why you like me!” She rubbed his knee where she’d punched him. “In all seriousness, though, Kits. I’m happy you’re getting in the game again. You’re too young to be an old maid.”
“I don’t feel young,” Kim muttered and took a mouthful of tea.
“That’s because you haven’t gotten laid in, what? Three years?” She sipped daintily on her own cup. “Believe your teacher, get some of that non-existent ass and your joints’ll stop creaking in no time.”
It took Kim the rest of the evening getting the tea stain out of the carpet.