#and btw
fic: you can’t play on broken strings (rachel/kirsten)
What’s this? More SWCU nonsense? Why yes, yes it is.
Rachel and Kirsten have been sent on a case together and (gasp!) they have to have a difficult conversation about feelings and “stuff”. It’s all very tiring. Throw in an old flame of Rachel’s and some truly lovely scenic countryside (thank you Cheshire!) and there’s nothing but feelings ‘n’ angst. Sometimes at the same time.
***
Chapter 1: it’s the voice of someone else
The hotel rooms are unassuming in the way that mid-price chains usually are: the furniture is serviceable, neatly placed against the walls. A dark blue couch, net curtains at the long windows overlooking the station up on a hill, and a bathroom that Rachel thinks looks far too small for anything like a decent bubble bath. She grimaces as Kirsten drops her bag onto the bed and turns around, only marginally more satisfied with the room than Rachel.
“When Gill said the accommodation budget wouldn’t stretch very far,” Kirsten begins, screwing up her face as her gaze bounces around the room, “I didn’t think she meant a Travelodge in Macclesfield.”
Rachel snorts. “Not exactly the Hilton, is it?”
Kirsten shrugs, face still crumpled in an odd mixture of disappointment and chagrin. “Wouldn’t know. Never been.”
“Not even to Cloud 23?” Rachel asks, and can’t disguise the note of surprise in her voice. “Thought you’d be there every weekend, downing cocktails and scamming blokes for free drinks.”
She’s embarrassed by how fake her voice sounds with its forced lightness. Kirsten can tell it doesn’t quite fit, that it’s not really genuine. A frown digs between her eyes as she looks at Rachel, lips pursing around disbelief before she even speaks.
Kirsten drops onto the double bed in the middle of the room. She bounces a couple of times before leaning back on her hands, one leg swinging over the other. Her foot bobs up and down and she looks Rachel in the eye.
“Overpriced cocktails at the Manchester Hilton and lecherous men getting handsy?” she states firmly, then pulls a face of disgust. “Not really my thing. Which you’d know if you ever answered my calls. I wanted to go to something at Heaton Park last weekend but you couldn’t be bothered getting back to me so I assumed you’d be the one downing cocktails and chatting up men in expensive bars.”
It all comes out in almost one breath, and Kirsten leans back after she’s finished, tilting her head so that her hair spills over one shoulder. There are two pink spots high up on her cheeks and her eyes are a steely blue. The shape of her jaw is angular instead of round and Rachel is struck with a sudden desire to press her hand against it, feel it take shape in her palm. She hasn’t touched Kirsten for so long that it’s starting to become more than an urge. It feels like a compulsion.
But things have been weird between them lately. Rachel’s aware that it’s her fault. That she’s the one who put distance between them. It tugs in her gut like shame and her mouth twists over words that she can’t quite say, no matter how much she’s told herself she should.
“I don’t like cocktails,” Rachel mutters. Her lip curls and she glowers at Kirsten. “Not mad keen on men either, if I’m bein’ honest.”
rob talking about playing nathan young vs klaus hargreeves and how he liked the torture scenes WSKSKS
Tweed tuxedo jacket with roll-up shorts. As you do.
