#the Duke of York | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theywhowriteandknowthings · 3 months

Text

The Princess And the Duke | Chapter 10: Pandemonium

Summary: Things go from bad, to worse, to utter pandemonium Word Count: 7k Warnings: strained family relationships, abusive parent, threats of physical harm, abuse, mild violence, language, strained friendships, violence, gun violence, stalking, pining, angst. Author's Notes: We're almost at the end! There will be an epilogue (or 6?) after the final chapter is done, but the journey is reaching it's end friends. Two more chapters to go, will The Princess and The Duke get their happily ever after? Co-written by the marvellous @angelofsmalldeath-codeine Follow @vi-notifs and consider buying me a coffee if you enjoy my work! AO3

Main Masterlist

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

The smell of coffee lures you awake. You open your eyes to find the light from your windows muted by a sheet over your face. You frown, still weary with sleep as you try and gain your bearings.

The sound of your cupboards opening and closing beyond your bedroom door makes you freeze, there’s someone in your apartment. The sound of someone humming a tune carries through the door and it hits you.

Dave.

You wrestle yourself out of your sheets and check your phone, it’s almost ten in the morning and you rub your jaw as you check through your messages. Multiple missed calls from both Pete and Ash, your group chat has been renamed a few times, ranging from “Bitch, are you alive?” to “Please contact us, babe.”. You scroll through the messages before typing a response.

You: I’m fine, Nancy’s in jail. I’m safe, Dave slept on the couch cuz the door’s busted. Don’t say a word, Pete. I’ll keep you posted. Please don’t come over, I need space. I mean it.

You watch as both of them start to type, the little bubble appearing next to both of their names. You throw the phone onto the bed before heading to the bathroom. You shower and get dressed; you hold Dave’s hoodie in your hands for a moment. It still smells like him, at least you think it does. You decide against it, you stuff it under your comforter before pulling on a plain black one instead.

“Dave?” You call through the door as you hover over the doorknob.

“In the kitchen,” Dave calls back through the apartment and your heart twists at the sound of his voice, at the thought of him making you coffee in your kitchen.

Before you can lose yourself to the fantasy of domesticity with Dave, you break the spell. You pull the door open and it’s worse, so much worse. He’s there, hair dishevelled as he stands with his back to you. His dress shirt is creased, sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he works the coffee machine. His tight slacks hug his pert ass too well and you want nothing more than to walk up and wrap yourself around him from behind.

“Morning,” you say meekly as you remember how he stopped you from taking things further last night. You want to tell yourself it wasn’t a true rejection, you felt it in the way he kissed back, you want to believe that he was as desperate as you. But the moment he turns to look at you, your heart shatters.

“Morning,” he responds, his voice low as he glances at you for a second over his shoulder before turning back to the coffee machine.

“You don’t have to stick around,” you say as you linger in the doorway, “I can handle the maintenance guy, it’s fine.”

“I promised I’d stay and help,” Dave says as he turns around, two mugs of coffee in his hands.

“I don’t want to keep you, I’ll be fine,” you say a little firmer this time, you can feel the grief welling up in you as he looks at you. His expression is cold, so neutral it can’t be anything but a practiced mask.

“If you’re not comfortable with me being here, I can go,” Dave says as you notice his jaw tick to the side a little, “I’ve already called the security firm and their guy is on the way.”

“That would probably be for the best,” you say as your voice breaks, “Thank you.”

“If you need anything, just call,” Dave says as his mask slips, his shoulders sag and he looks at you, dark eyes betraying the sadness behind the mask.

“I will,” you confirm as you force a smile, you want to say more but you know if you do you’ll probably cry.

Dave nods curtly before placing your coffee mug on the counter, he drains his own with a grimace. It’s clearly too hot to have done that comfortably. He lingers for a moment before striding over to the door. He has to force it open; the doorframe so badly damaged it really did have to be jammed shut last night. He pauses, looking as if he wants to say something else, but ultimately decides against it, flashing you a sad smile before disappearing into the hallway.

You pick the mug up from the counter, taking a tentative sip of the hot liquid before retrieving your phone from the bedroom along with your laptop. You settle down against the armrest of the loveseat before emailing the Bar admissions office.

It’s going to be a long day of explanations, citing police reports, and endless email chains to get your application back on track.

~*~

Dave lets out a frustrated sigh as he sits back in his desk chair, glaring at Resnik as the smaller man seems to shrink away from Dave’s scathing gaze. It’s Friday morning, two days since Nancy decided to break into your apartment. Two days since he’s heard from his subordinate that should have been checking in at hourly intervals.

Furious doesn’t come close to describing what Dave is feeling right now.

“So,” Dave says calmly, “Do you want to explain yourself?”

“I was just getting some more pictures, you know, surveillance and all that,” Resnik splutters as his beady eyes flit to the blinking light of the card reader attached to Dave’s PC.

“Surveillance?” Dave repeats as he turns one of his monitors around aggressively to face his subordinate, “What were you surveilling here, Resnik? Huh?”

Resnik squirms as he’s forced to look at the pin-sharp image of you bending over in yoga pants. It’s from the start of your run with Pete yesterday, there’s no mistaking what Resnik’s lens was trained on.

“I fucked up, boss,” Resnik says as he aggressively scrapes his fingers against his chin, unable to offer any other excuse than that.

“Fucking pathetic,” Dave snarls as he turns the monitor back around, “You’re off the PI job, Ari’s taking over, get out of my sight.”

“But-,” Resnik starts to protest but Dave shoots him a look, his dark eyes flashing with rage like nothing Resnik has ever seen. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before scurrying out of the office.

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose as he counts back from twenty in his head. The stress of the target, of Nancy’s freshly served divorce papers on his desk, and your safety is wearing him thin. The only thing keeping him sane is the knowledge that you’re safe, for now.

He picks up his cell phone and dials Kovac’s number, it rings twice before Kovac’s gruff voice sounds in his ear.

“Maintenance guy just left, fucker wouldn’t paint the new doorframe,” Kovac grumbles without so much as a word of greeting. Dave likes that about Kovac, no bullshit.

“Noted, I’ll sort something out,” Dave says, hoping he can smooth things over with you soon, “Let me know when you’re done.”

“Yes, boss,” Kovac says flatly before ending the call.

Dave spends the next few hours looking over the CCTV footage from the chase. Scrubbing back through minute by minute as he tries to find where the target slipped away. He’s been reviewing the footage obsessively. Practically not moving from his chair and barely eating. He tells himself it’s just the job, but he knows some of it has to do with you. The way you looked when he rejected you is burned into his brain. It haunts him to know he hurt you, even if he knows it was the right thing to do.

His stomach gurgles, snapping him out of his thought spiral and he sighs. Having skipped breakfast and now, lunch it seems, Dave is ravenous. He’s about to give up and get something from the break room vending machine when he sees it. Something he hadn’t caught before.

The flash of police cars in the background of one of the final moments of footage before they lost the target. Something worries at the back of Dave’s mind as he brings up a map of the area on his other monitor.

“Son of a bitch,” Dave curses as he brings up the CCTV footage from outside your building. He watches in horror as a lone figure makes his way into the frame. The dark-haired man lingers at the edge of the taped off crime scene, Nancy is being hauled out unconscious as the target lifts his head up and looks directly into the lens of the camera.

Dave scrambles to pick up his phone, desperately trying to get through to you, but each time it goes to voicemail.

“Fuck!” He roars into the empty room as he throws his phone down.

He has to calm down, there’s no guarantee the target was there for you. It has to be a coincidence, there’s no way there’s a target on your back. He settles back into his chair, hunger forgotten as bile rises in his throat. He continues to watch the recording, hoping beyond hope that the target moves on when Nancy is carted off.

The police car leaves the scene and Dave’s jaw goes tense as he watches the next thirty minutes play out. He watches as he arrives at the apartment, the target stays exactly where he has been the whole recording. Waiting.

To Dave’s dismay, it’s only when he watches the recording of him escorting you out and away from the scene that the target leaves. There’s no mistaking it now.

You’re in danger.

~*~

The small hole-in-the-wall establishment is quiet as you drum your fingers on the top of the lacquered bar. You scroll through your phone as you wait for Ash and Pete to arrive. You’re already regretting the decision to call Ash. It’s too soon, you’re too angry with them both. You tip back the last of your whiskey as you check your phone for any new messages. Nothing.

The last two days have dragged, you’ve barely left your bed. The moment the security guy had left, you’d locked up and shut down all your devices. Between crying and sleeping far too much, you made the decision to meet with Ash and Pete.

You’re about to leave when you notice a fresh drink being placed in front of you. You look up to the bartender who points to the other end of the bar.

“Gentleman insisted,” he says with a smile before being called over by another patron.

You turn to look at your admirer and you smile politely at the man. He’s a little older than you, around Dave’s age if you had to guess. He’s well dressed in tight black slacks and a loose fit white shirt. His buttons are undone to expose the cleft of his pecs, there’s a smattering of dark hair there that makes your stomach flutter. He has a kind face, dark green eyes that sparkle in the low light of the bar. His dark hair is short and parted to the side.

“Thanks,” you say with a kind smile, “But I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

The man smiles wider at this, nodding knowingly.

“Smart, I don’t blame you,” he says with a dazzling smile, “You just looked like you needed a pick-me-up.”

“That obvious, huh?” You say with a grimace as you turn on your stool to face him.

“Not obvious per se,” he says as he takes a sip from his drink, “But I had a hunch, what with you being here all alone. Mind if I join you?”

“Not alone, just painfully early for friends who are notoriously late,” you say with a snort as you hail the bartender.

“Sounds like you need better friends,” he says with a raised brow as takes a seat next to you, “Making a gorgeous woman like you wait seems like a crime.”

“You flatter me,” you say as you feel the praise prickle pleasantly under your skin, “But they’re good people.”

The conversation lulls but you can feel the stranger’s eyes on you as you scroll through your phone. You’re browsing reels on Instagram when you feel a pair of arms grab you from behind. You panic, shoving back as you practically catapult yourself off the stool. You scramble to your feet and back away from the bar with wild eyes. You’re ready to swing at your assailant, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“What the fuck?” Ash’s familiar voice snaps you out of your haze. You look up to see Ash and Pete looking at you in horror.

“Jesus, Ash!” you say with a heavy sigh of relief, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

You notice the smirk on the stranger’s face as you scold your friends. There’s something else simmering under the surface there, but you’re not paying attention to him anymore. You’re smoothing down your pants as you look at your friends.

“You, ok?” Ash asks as she looks you up and down, no doubt she can see the way your shoulders slump and your eyes are glassy and bloodshot. Pete gives you a sheepish smile.

“Not really, come on, let’s get a table,” you say as you gesture further into the bar. As you turn, you hear the sound of a phone camera shuttering, but you dismiss it.

The three of you sit down in a booth, Pete and Ash taking their place opposite you. If it hadn’t already felt like an intervention, it does now. A waitress comes over and takes your drinks order before leaving the three of you alone once more.

“I see you’re really leaning into the sugar daddy angle,” Pete remarks as you take your seat, nodding towards the guy at the bar. Your jaw ticks to the side as you ignore him, Ash shoots him a look and you feel a little less tense seeing her on your side.

“Thanks for meeting with us,” Ash says, “How are you doing?”

“Not bad considering my mother broke into my apartment and threatened me with a hammer, whilst demanding I admit I was fucking Dave,” you say with a shrug, too tired to beat around the bush.

“She did what?” Ash asks incredulously, “Why didn’t you call us?”

“Because after Wednesday I wasn’t sure I’d get the support I needed, let alone that you’d take my side on it. Somehow it would have to be my fault, right?” You say, the venom dripping from your tongue, and you look at them both in turn.

“You know we wouldn’t have pinned that on you,” Ash pleads but you shake your head slowly at her.

“Do I? The last few weeks have me questioning everything, Ash,” you sigh as you see your phone screen light up. You grit your teeth as you see it’s a message from Dave. Pete’s eyes flick to the screen and you’re grateful for the nickname attached to Dave’s contact.

“That’s not fair, we’re just worried about you,” Ash argues but you turn your gaze to Pete.

“Is that what Wednesday was, Pete? Concern? Because it seemed like it was all about judging me, not being concerned about my wellbeing.”

“I was concerned, the man was able to track you down on our night out. Ash told me he kept hounding you even after she took you home after that too.”

“He wasn’t hounding me,” you say as the hair on the back of your neck stands up, “He texted me once to make sure I was ok.”

“He’s creepy, babe, he’s your goddamn stepdad, and you are fucking him,” Pete says with a scowl, and you notice Ash flinch next to him.

Your blood runs cold as you realise Ash has been talking to Pete about everything behind your back. You wonder how much she’s told him. It makes you feel sick, for all Pete’s judgement and scorn, you have always been able to confide in Ash. Or so you thought.

“You told him?” You look to Ash, your heart breaking for what feels like the hundredth time this week, “Ash, I told you about that in confidence, next you’re going to reveal you gave Nancy my address,” you scoff, but the look of shame on Ash’s face gives you pause, “You didn’t? Did you?”

“Of course not!” Ash blurts as her eyes go wide, “I only talked to Pete because I was worried about you, I’d never do that to you.” Ash says as she holds her hands up in a show of surrender.

“And yet you told Pete, behind my back,” you retort, the hum of adrenaline in your veins makes you twitchy as you look to Pete. He physically shrinks back as he meets your gaze.

“Is this why you went so hard at me on Wednesday? What gave you the right to ambush me like that?” You ask incredulously.

“You’re not known for making good choices with men, hun,” Pete argues meekly, and you have to bite your tongue, “I was just trying to make you see how fucked up this is.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Pete,” you scoff as you shake your head, “I’m not the one proposing to a guy that ‘drives me crazy’,” you emphasise the phrase with air quotes, “Because he doesn’t answer your every obsessive text and call. Can you not see the irony there?”

Pete opens and closes his mouth a few times before scowling at you. Ash is looking at her hands, her shoulders slumped, and you almost feel bad for her. Almost.

“So, which one of you decided to go full-Nancy and pull this intervention type stunt, huh?”

“That’s not what this is-,” Ash starts, her eyes wet with tears as she looks at you.

“Then what is it? Tell me, because I certainly don’t see it as anything else.”

You sit there for a moment, desperately trying to process everything as neither of them come up with an answer for you. You see your phone light up again and you snatch it up before standing. Something is wrong if Dave is messaging you now, there’s no other reason for him to break his promise to give you space. You’re once again reminded that Dave seems to be the only who never violates your boundaries.

“Where are you going?” Ash asks as her eyes plead with you.

“To the bathroom,” you snap as you meet her gaze with a stern look, “Is that ok? Or do I need your permission to pee?”

She shakes her head, looking down as the drinks arrive and the waitress obscures you from them both. You stride towards the bathroom and pull out your phone, ducking into a stall and locking it behind you.

Your eyes go wide as you see multiple missed calls from Dave, accompanied with a string of texts that make your blood run cold.

Duke 🎷: Get out.

Duke 🎷: Please, get out of there.

Duke 🎷: * Duke 🎷* sent a photo.

You open up the attachment and you see the back of your head as you walk over to Ash and Pete at the booth. There’s a banner caption on the bottom half of the image that makes your blood run cold.

“She’s beautiful, shame if anything would happen to her.”

You clap your hand over your mouth to stifle a cry as you realise the man at the bar had taken a photo of you. You slump back against the stall as you try and collect yourself. Your phone rings once more and you answer without hesitation.

“Dave?” You whisper, your voice faltering as you fight the urge to cry.

“Are you ok? Has he hurt you?” Dave’s voice is frantic on the other end of the call, which only makes your heart beat faster; it only cements the fact that you’re in serious danger.

“No, he tried to buy me a drink, I didn’t take it,” you say as you clutch the phone tightly in your hand, desperately trying to stay calm.

“I think you understand who that is right? Yes or no answers only, we can’t trust the line with specifics, ok?”

“Ok. Yes, I do, I understand who he is.”

“I need you to slip out the back,” Dave’s voice has lowered, adopting a calmer tone as he takes you through the next steps, “I’m in a silver sedan one street over, don’t run, but I need to get you out of there now. Do you understand?”

You nod, forgetting for a moment that Dave can’t see you.

“Hey?” Dave says your name and it’s like a slap to the face.

The name jolts you back to the present and the sound of the bar outside the bathroom fills your ears as you take a steadying breath. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you force yourself to focus.

“I’m here, I’m on my way,” Your voice is more level than you expected, and you slowly make your way out of the stall, “Stay on the line?” You ask as you slip towards the back door of the bar.

“Of course, I’m here.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the bar as you walk backwards out of the bar, you feel the push bar of the back door on your palm as you hold the phone to your ear with your other hand. You hear Dave hiss on the other line as you watch the stranger chuckle to himself at the bar.

“What?” You ask, morbidly curious to what the stranger had clearly sent to Dave.

“He’s sent me another photo of you, just get out of there, ok?”

You lean back slowly, depressing the bar as gently as possible, there’s a small voice in the back of your mind hoping the door isn’t alarmed. The soft clunk of the door opening luckily isn’t loud enough to reach the bar, but the moment you’re across the threshold a siren sounds loud in the street behind you.

The stranger’s eyes flick up at the sudden sound and his glowers at you as he immediately launches himself in your direction. You slam the door behind you, heart in your throat as you try and remember where Dave said he was.

“Dave, where are you? He caught me leaving, he’s coming.”

“Turn right out of the alley, I’m waiting on the street. Go!” Dave barks as you hear an engine roar to life.

You break into a sprint, thanking your foresight to choose flats instead of heels tonight. You her the slam of the door crashing into the alley wall behind you, but you don’t turn back. You hear an angry shout behind you, and you almost pitch forward onto your face as you hear the gunshot that follows, so close behind you.

“Are you ok? Where are you?” Dave’s voice is frantic in your ear as you break out onto the street.

“I’m ok. I see the car,” you pant as you charge towards the silver sedan idling at the curb. You yank the door open, checking at the last moment that it is actually Dave in the car. His dark eyes are blazing with emotion as he checks you over briefly before driving off.

“I heard the gunshot, were you hit?” Dave asks as he focuses on the road ahead, eyes flicking back and forth as he scans for any apparent danger.

“I don’t think so,” you say with a shaky breath as you tentatively scan your body, hands drifting over your torso as you confirm, “I’m ok.”

“Good,” Dave says with a grunt as he cuts off a semi-truck. His shoulders are tense as he drives, his jaw is tight, and his knuckles are white from exertion from gripping the wheel so hard.

You slump back into your seat, your body buzzing with unspent energy as the adrenaline high courses through you. You sit in silence for a while as you watch Dave wind through the streets of Austin. You realise too late that he’s already overshot your apartment building by a few blocks. You’re heading out of town.

“I didn’t know you were in the bar,” Dave says through clenched teeth as he pulls the car into a parking garage a few blocks over from your place, “Not until he sent the photo.”

You furrow your brow, trying to understand what he means.

“Dave, what are you-?”

“I wasn’t following you, I wanted to give you space. I’m sorry but he forced my hand,” Dave turns to you with anguish behind his dark eyes.

It’s only then your brain catches up through the fog of adrenaline and fear. You remember that you pushed him away, needed him to give you space after he rejected you.

“I understand,” you say as you look away, the bitter sting of rejection burning under your skin once more as you replay the way he stopped your advances.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you realise you’re on the I35 out of Austin.

“Your apartment isn’t safe, the only place I can keep you safe is back home,” Dave says, and you can hear the agitation in his voice. You’ve never seen Dave like this, he’s so utterly unflappable, but now, it’s painful to see him so panicked.

“Home,” you nod, gathering yourself for a moment before slumping back down in the seat. The word rolls around your mind like a marble, rattling around as you try and gather your thoughts.

Neither of you say another word until you’re pulling up into a hauntingly similar parody of the day Dave brought you home from the airport all those months ago. An empty garage, no cherry red Escalade, but no red mustang either. It’s eerie.

Dave hovers at your elbow, head on a swivel, as he closes the garage door. He guides you down into the basement, hovering behind you, but not quite touching you as you descend the steps. The moment your feet hit the bottom step, it’s like a switch flips.

Tears come unbidden as you feel your knees go weak. You hear the sound of Dave arming a security system in the background as you feel the floor shift from under you. You fall to your knees and sob, your chest constricting in waves as you let out the frustrations of the last few months.

You hear the heavy thud of Dave’s knees hitting the floor next to you, followed by a barely concealed hiss.

“Hey,” his voice is low, soothing as you feel him hovering next to you, but he doesn’t touch you, he keeps his distance as you sob, “I’m here.”

But you don’t want him to keep his distance, you’re tired of the distance between you. You look up with bleary eyes and it takes you less than a second to close the gap between your bodies. You wrap your arms around him, awkwardly clinging to his kneeling form as you cry into his shirt.

“I hate you,” you sob, “I fucking hate you.”

Dave stiffens beneath you for a moment before wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you tight against him as you choke through your anger.

“Do you know what it’s like, Dave? To be so sure of something that it physically hurts when you can’t do anything about it?” You ask, it’s rhetorical, and he knows it, so he only holds you tighter.

“I did everything right. I kept my distance, I tried to forget about you, forget about us, but I can’t Dave.”

“I know,” he whispers and something about his admission – his honesty – breaks something inside you.

“I can’t keep doing this, Dave,” you say as you pull back enough to look up into his eyes, they shine with tears as they regard you with something akin to remorse, “I can’t keep loving you if it means that all I do is hurt.”

“I know,” he repeats, a single tear tracking down his face as he tries to blink them away.

“I wish I had stayed in New York,” you snap, it’s cold and you don’t really mean it, but there’s a grain of truth to it, “I would have been miserable, but I wouldn’t have this hole in my chest. I wouldn’t have fallen so hard for someone I can never have.”

Dave doesn’t say anything to that, tears falling freely now as he bows his head.

“Did I ever actually mean anything to you? Beyond being collateral damage and sex?” You ask, it’s an unfair question but nothing about this is fair anymore. It’s never been fair to you.

“Of course, you did, you still do,” Dave says solemnly as he meets your gaze, “I love you.”

It’s like time stands still as you look up into his eyes, they glitter with more tears as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek. You lean in without hesitation as you search his face for any hint of deception.

“You mean that?” You say, voice barely more than a whisper as you plead with whatever deity that is listening that this isn’t some sick joke.

“I’ve loved you for some time,” Dave says with a sad smile, “I can’t keep pretending I don’t, it’s killing me.”

“It’s been killing me too,” you say as you place your hand over Dave’s holding his hand against your cheek, “But why tell me now? What changed?”

“You mean the hitman coming after you notwithstanding?” Dave allows himself to laugh bitterly at that and you can’t help but smile, “Nancy filed for divorce from prison, got her lawyer to serve me papers this morning.”

“You’re joking?” You laugh, a genuine, throaty bark of a sound as you shake your head, “She really thinks she’s got it all figured out, doesn’t she?”

“Hubris, thy name is Nancy,” Dave says with a sigh, “Once this is all over, once the threat on your life has been neutralised, we will have time to talk this over, talk about us, about what you want.”

“I want you,” you say without hesitation and the way Dave’s lips curve up makes your heart clench, “I will always want you.”

“I want to hold you to that,” Dave says as he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours once more, the contact makes you shudder, “But we can’t rush this, you can’t rush this. Once we’re on the other side of this, and once the divorce is finalised, we can do this right.”

“Ok,” you say, disappointment poisoning the moment just enough to make you focus on the danger at hand, “But I mean it, Dave,” you say as you pull back to look up into his eyes once more, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, and you see the flicker of emotion in his eyes, the way they dart to your lips for a brief moment.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, preparing yourself for rejection, but it doesn’t come.

Dave leans down, his lips slotting over yours as his hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head. You sigh as you melt into the kiss. You fist the collar of Dave’s shirt as you lean into him.

It’s different from the other night, his lips pull gently at your own as you feel the stirring of something more than lust or desire in your chest. You stifle a soft whine as he pulls your bottom lip between his own. Heat flares in your core as you savour the heat of his mouth on yours.

You pull back, fire coursing under your skin as you look up into the warmth of Dave’s gaze. You’re both smiling, Dave’s cheeks are dimpling, and you lean forward to kiss him again.

The sound of the doorbell jolts you both out of the moment and you look at Dave with wide eyes.

“It’s ok, it’s Kovac, one of my trusted colleagues, and friends. He’s here to look after you for a while,” Dave explains, a blush creeping over his face as he realises, he didn’t fill you in on the plan.

“How long is a while?”

“A few days,” Dave says as he places his hands over yours as they cling to his shirt, “A week at most, I promise.”

“You’re going to kill him, the guy from the bar. Aren’t you?” The question slips from your lips effortlessly, you’re not naïve. You’ve noticed the absence of police presence; the way Dave hasn’t so much as called anything in since you left the bar. None of it was above board, you just know it.

“Yes,” he says, his face hardening a little as he meets your gaze, “This isn’t something that will go away if he’s put behind bars.”

“Then finish it.”

Dave’s eyes go wide at the conviction in your voice, but whatever he’s about to say in response is cut off by the furious buzzing of his cell in his pocket. He answers it with a snarl.

“Kovac, I’m coming, let yourself in,” he barks down the phone before ending the call.

Silently he eases himself onto his feet, a groan escapes him as one of his knees makes a nauseating pop. He holds his hand out to you, and you take it, letting him pull you up onto your feet.

“You have to stay down here, no matter what, ok?” Dave says as he looks over his shoulder at the basement stairs.

“What about-,” you begin to protest, you’ve got nothing of value on you, no laptop, no clothes.

“Ari, one of my other guys,” Dave interrupts, “Has a go bag for you, he’ll drop it off with your laptop and other essentials later this afternoon. Take anything you need from my drawers, use the bathroom, whatever you need, it’s yours.”

You bristle a little at the way you feel like you’re being handled, but you realise that’s exactly what’s happening. You’re an asset to be protected, there’s a very real danger out there wishing you harm.

“I’ll check in regularly, and Kovac will do anything for you, I mean it. I trust most of my men with my own life, but I wouldn’t trust anyone but Kovac to protect you.”

“Fine,” you say, trying to quash the petulance bubbling beneath the surface, “But Dave?”

“What?”

“Come back to me.”

It’s not a request, he knows it too well, but he pulls you against his chest, holding you tight.

“Nothing on this earth will stop me coming back to you,” he breathes as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say as you bury your face in his chest before reluctantly easing out of his embrace as you hear heavy footsteps on the stairs. You look up to see the same hulking man who fitted your security alarm.

“Dave, that’s-?”

“I told you,” he says with a sly smile, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to keep you safe.”

You look to Kovac, and he shrugs, his face set in a smug smile as he and Dave give each other a nod of acknowledgment. Your heart flutters at the interaction, a weight lifting from your shoulders as you realise the extent of Dave’s commitment to keeping you safe.

~*~

A few hours later, Kovac answers the door as you’re sat on the L-shaped sofa in the basement. A rerun of ‘Parks and Rec’ is playing on the TV but you’re not really watching, until Duke Silver appears on screen, and you can’t help but smile.

There’s a poisoned irony at the way your group chat with Ash and Pete keeps blowing up, asking you if you’d gone home with the DILF at the bar. But you’re too dazed to care, you’ve muted the chat now, instead staring into the middle distance as you try and bring yourself back to the present.

“Hey,” Kovac’s low rumble startles you as he rounds the sofa with a duffel bag on one arm, a plastic bag filled with takeout containers in his other hand, “Ari brought your laptop and some other stuff, Dave ordered takeout and some beer.”

“Thanks,” you say with a weak smile, “I’ll sort the bag later, just dump it on the sofa.”

“Sure,” Kovac does as he’s told, dropping the bag gently on the sofa cushion before setting the plastic bag on the coffee table. He goes to leave straight away, and you stop him.

“There’s way too much food here. Do you want to join me?”

Kovac hesitates for a moment before shrugging and taking a seat on the floor opposite you. You smirk at the gesture but don’t say anything as you start to unbox the food and Kovac pops a beer and offers it to you. The two of you eat in silence for some time.

“So, you and Dave,” you say, curiosity getting the better of you, “How’d you two meet?”

Kovac chews slowly for a moment, as if contemplating how much he can actually say.

“Marines,” he says as he takes a swig of beer, “Served with him from start to finish, good man.”

“He is,” you say absently as you watch the credits roll for the episode and you immediately skip to the next one, “Thanks for staying and eating with me,” you say as you drain the last of your beer, “I appreciate it.”

Kovac shrugs and continues eating without missing a beat as he eyes you up and down.

“It won’t be long before you’re out of here,” he says as he gestures around the basement with his free hand, “Dave doesn’t fuck around when it comes to people he cares about.”

The statement, no matter how crude, has your chest constricting with joy. Of course, you want to believe that Dave cares about you – that he loves you – but to hear it from Kovac is vindicating. It makes everything feel a little more real.

“I don’t doubt it,” you say as neutrally as possible as your lips curve up into a smile.

You sit in silence for the rest of the meal until Kovac excuses himself, taking the dirty dishes and takeaway containers upstairs. He refuses to let you help, assuring you it’s safer if you stay in the basement.

You’re suddenly very tired, the events of the day catching up to you finally. You give your armpits a tentative sniff and grimace at the smell. You haul yourself up from the sofa and shower.

By the time you’re showered and dressed in a pair of Dave’s sweatpants and one of his hoodies, Kovac is back. He sits on the sofa, watching you re-enter with an unreadable look on his face.

“Sit,” he says as you approach the opposite end of the sofa to him. There’s an object on the coffee table, covered in a cloth and you realise immediately what it is.

“Is there a reason you’re looming menacingly over a gun?” You ask, trying to ease the tension in your gut with a bit of levity.

“Dave asked me to give it to you,” Kovac says bluntly, “You know how to use it?”

He unfolds the cloth to reveal a silver Colt 1911 and you nod slowly, already reaching for the pistol.

“I grew up in Texas,” you say with a shrug as you inspect the utilitarian firearm, “I’ve handled bigger and meaner guns than this in my time.”

“Good,” Kovac nods, “Have you ever shot someone?”

The question throws you a little and you slowly shake your head.

“I’ve never had to.” You say.

“I hope that doesn’t change,” Kovac says solemnly, and you look up to see a flash of emotion in his blue eyes, something like remorse, “But if you need to, don’t hesitate, not even for a second.”

You eject the magazine and pull back the slider to expose the breech. You nod slowly to yourself, the whole process something second-nature to you normally. The threat looming over you makes everything feel surreal, disjointed.

“I promise,” you say as you depress the slide release and re-insert the magazine before flicking the safety on, “Thank you.”

Kovac simply nods, seemingly happy with your reaction before he stands and makes his way to the stairs.

“I’m going to keep watch upstairs, I hope you get some rest,” he says without turning before ascending the stairs.

“Night,” you call after him absently as you turn back to the television. Parks and Rec is still playing but you aren’t in the mood to mindlessly watch TV. You turn it off and head into Dave’s bedroom.

You place the gun on the nightstand, the cold thud of the metal on the wood surface loud in your ears. You slide under the sheets, and for a brief moment you’re lost in the familiar scent of Dave. The fresh, spiced smell of his body wash and the unique musk of simply him envelop you as you burrow into the sheets. Your eyes flutter closed, and you let out a soft sigh as you try and relax.

It could have been seconds, or hours since you closed your eyes when suddenly you’re jolted awake by the harsh blaring of an alarm. You check your phone, but the device lies silent, the display lights up as you move it, it’s just gone 4am.

You blink away the sleep as you see Dave’s desktop PC screens flashing violently, red and white as an emergency alarm blares through his speakers. Your stomach drops as the CCTV feed pops up in a new window.

There, on the doorstep – gun in hand – is the man from the bar, smiling up into the camera lens.

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

Main Masterlist

AO3

Follow @vi-notifs and consider buying me a coffee if you enjoy my work!

99 notes · View notes