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The light side of the night - part 1

Pairing:Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Summary:You just moved to a new city to start a new job. At a party, you meet Detective Walter Marshall without knowing he’s your future colleague.

Word count: ca. 3.1k

Warnings:fluff, hinted oral sex if you squint, mentions of alcohol, mentions of homicide (no details). The following parts will require more warnings. Just getting started!

A/N:This story is about a new beginning and how you can get in your own way sometimes. It’s also a story about arriving and two people finding each other.

As far as I can tell right now, it will be an angsty-smutty-fluffy ride and I’d be thrilled if you joined me!   

Not beta’d, and English is not my native language, so you’d better be prepared for mistakes. Thank you so much for reading!! Feedback means the world to me, and I’d love to hear what you think! 

Dividers:by@firefly-graphics

A content sigh leaves your lips when you put four books on the shelf. Almost there! Your gaze roams the living room as you disassemble the last moving box. Finally, countless boxes are unpacked, your stuff neatly stowed away in the closets and shelves of your new apartment, except for two boxes with winter clothes you won’t need for the next months. 

You arrived here three days ago to start over. Again. One might assume you’re used to new beginnings because moving from one city to another was a part of your childhood since… Since that day.

For each beginning bears a special magic that nurtures living and bestows protection. You can still hear your mother’s voice, reciting Hermann Hesse every time you had to move again. There’s some truth in those words, for sure. But in your case, every beginning also meant leaving beloved people behind and meeting new neighbors, colleagues, and other people you may stumble across. And you’ll probably never get used to either. You’re not terribly shy around new people, you never were, but making friends as an adult seems much harder than making friends as a kid. Not to speak about maintaining friendships across thousands of miles and different timezones.

You’re all the more thankful you’re not completely alone here. A smile spreads across your face as you look at one of the numerous picture frames on the wall. One photo shows Mike and you at your college graduation ceremony, arm in arm, grinning proudly. The next picture was taken only seconds after the first one; your faces contorted in goofy grimaces. You met him on the first orientation day, and you became friends almost right away. After completing your paralegal studies, both of you became law enforcement transcriptionists. You spent the next decade working for different transcription companies as you moved from one place to another with your family. Mike moved to this city right after college to start working for the homicide division of the local police department, and he has been here ever since. 

When you talked to him on the phone three months ago, you mentioned you desperately needed a change. A change from the city you lived in back then. A change from living with your family. Of course, you love your mother and your siblings to death, and you’ll gladly support them anytime, but living with them seemed to suffocate you more and more. Long story short, Mike had put in a good word for you with his boss, and you will be colleagues in two days. You’re hired to transcribe interrogations and witness statements, mostly recordings, sometimes live.  

The thought about Monday makes your stomach feel like it’s in a knot. It’s not that you’re excessively worried about your skills. You know, you’re both qualified and experienced and you have dealt with several homicide cases before. Yet, this will be the first job where every case will be a homicide. Every case will have a victim and a murderer who are someone’s child, maybe someone’s parent, sibling, friend, spouse or lover. You will listen to those people telling their version about the end of the victim’s life, and you will write their stories down. You already know some of these cases will haunt you and keep you awake at night. 

But one step after another. You shake your head, smiling when you realize this is also something your mother says quite a lot. And more often than you’d like, she’s right.

You look at your phone, muttering a curse when you see how late it is. Mike and his fiancée Sarah invited you to their backyard bbq tonight to relax a bit and get you among people. You still have 30 minutes until your uber will arrive, enough time for a quick shower. You make your way to the small bathroom to wash away the sweat and dirt of unpacking boxes in an overheated apartment for the whole day. And it’s only spring. Summer will probably be a nightmare here, like living in a sauna. You console yourself with the thought of air-conditioned offices because this is where you’ll spend most of your day. 

After your shower, you stand in front of your closet, contemplating what to wear. Spontaneously, you pull out a cute summer dress - because why the hell not - and a warm cardigan to wear later. A little makeup, pretty sandals, your favorite earrings, and you’re ready to go. You grab your handbag and a bottle of wine before you sprint down the stairs from the 5th floor since the elevator seems to be broken again, making it to your uber just in time. 

“You’re lucky,” the driver mutters, studying you in the rearview mirror. “Usually, I don’t wait that long here. This area is a real shithole.”

“I know,” you sigh. But the rent is cheap, you add in your thoughts. “Thanks for waiting anyway.” 

The rest of the ride to your friends’ house is quiet as you look out the window, watching skyscrapers and apartment blocks fly by, making room for green spaces and single-family houses. 

Mike’s and Sarah’s house looks like most people’s dream: located in the suburbs, country house style both on the outside and the inside, and a huge backyard with a pool. 

You make your way to the backyard, where Mike greets you with a big hug, making you immediately feel welcome. As soon as he lets go of you, Sarah pulls you into her arms.

“Y/N, you made it,“ she squeals. "You look so lovely in that dress! Let’s sit down, you must be exhausted from unpacking boxes.”

You smile as you let her usher you to a group of chairs, chattering non-stop. 

“And that wine looks so good, thank you so much! Mike, honey, could you bring us a corkscrew and two glasses, please?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he grins, bending down to press a sweet kiss on her lips and sending you a wink before he makes his way to the house.

For as long as you’ve known him, Mike has always been a warm-hearted guy who took all sorts of strays under his wing. You haven’t known Sarah for long, but she seems to be just the same kind of person. And there’s no denying that you - new in town, painfully single, without family or other friends here - are their latest stray.

There could be worse, you think to yourself as your gaze wanders across the backyard. Tables and chairs are arranged in several groups, beautifully decorated with lanterns and pots with fresh herbs, more lanterns hanging in two walnut trees - a scenery predestined to be photographed for one of those fancy home and garden magazines. Of course, the grill is huge, and there’s enough food to feed an entire army. And they have invited a whole crowd of people indeed - a mixture of families, couples, and singles; mostly friends, neighbors, and a few colleagues as you learn during the evening. You spend most of the time getting to know everyone, shaking hands and doing Smalltalk, occasionally stuffing your face with the best chicken breast and cobb salad you’ve had in a long time. When it got dark, and a bit chilly, Mike lits a bonfire, and everyone gathers around the fire pit to roast some s’mores and warm up by the fire.

At some point, you excuse yourself for a bathroom break. You try to memorize the woman you sat next to by the bonfire as you make your way to the house: Her name is Jen, she’s in her 60s, and she and her husband live in the same street as Mike and Sarah. She has been very friendly and easy to talk to, and the best is, she’s the assistant of your future boss, so you’ll see her again at work. 

On your way back out, you hold on to the banister as you carefully walk down the steps of the back porch. In the backyard, you stop for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the darkness.

You tilt your head back to look at the starry sky, and at this very moment, someone comes around the corner of the hedge with quick steps, crashing right against you. The collision pushes the air out of your lungs, making you huff in shock as you fall forward. You extend your hands, trying to break your fall, but it’s too late. Pebbles crunch as you land hard on your knee, piercing and scratching your skin. 

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t see you,” a hoarse voice gasps out. 

A broad figure crouches down beside you, and you recognize him immediately. Tall, dark unruly curls, scruffy beard, rugged yet handsome appearance. He arrived a bit later than you, alone. Another stray, you thought immediately. His handshake was pleasantly firm as you introduced yourself to him, exchanging only a few words. Also later, when everyone sat around the bonfire, he didn’t say much. Maybe he’s a quiet person in general, but you also noticed how tired he looked, dark circles under his eyes, even visible in the soft light of the fire. Your gazes met a couple of times across the flames, making the corners of your mouths turn up into small smiles. Walter. That’s his name. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned.  

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you mumble, a bit embarrassed, although he’s the one who knocked you down. Yet you feel your cheeks grow hot, and you’re thankful for the darkness that surrounds you. He carefully helps you stand up, one hand on your elbow, the other one on your hip, loosening his grip as soon as you’re back on your feet. 

A sharp pain shoots to your knee when you tentatively shift your weight on your leg, making you hiss. 

“I don’t think you’re okay,” he states, grabbing your elbow to support you again. “Are you hurt?" 

“It’s just my knee,” you murmur through gritted teeth. 

“Let’s go inside, so I can have a look at it in the light.” 

“It’s okay. I think I’ll live,” you try to appease him. 

“Just to make sure you don’t bleed to death here. Please?” His face is cast in the shadow, but you can hear the smile in his voice.   

Running out of arguments, you let him guide you to the house. Now and then, he puts his hand on the small of your back, actually so slightly it’s barely noticeable. Yet something about him draws you in, making you overly aware of his every move, letting your skin tingle at every little touch.  

He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to enter first. A gentleman, you think to yourself, sending him a surprised smile as you walk past him. 

In the bathroom, he helps you sit down on the edge of the bathtub. Your eyes follow him as he casually opens doors and drawers, gathering several things to treat your wound. 

He seems to take up the whole room, reminding you of a rugby player with his broad back and shoulders, and tree trunk legs. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his elbows, granting you a look at his thick forearms. And you can’t help but look at his equally thick and tight ass when he bends down to get a towel from a closet. 

Before you know it, he has already straightened up and turned around, catching you subconsciously biting your bottom lip as you check him out. A smirk spreads across his face while a flush of blood rushes to your cheeks, making you lower your gaze in shame. 

He turns towards the sink to wash his hands, but this time you keep your eyes from wandering as you focus on breathing evenly, attempting to drive away the heat in your cheeks. 

“Damn,” he murmurs as he crouches down in front of you, taking a closer look at your knee. That’s when you remember why you sit here. You turn your gaze to your knee as well, realizing you scraped it pretty badly, dirt and gravel sticking to the wound, a trail from dried blood running along your shin. The view brings back the stinging pain you had somehow forgotten about, making you wrinkle your nose. 

“I need to clean the wound first. Can you turn around so I can rinse it?” he asks, wrinkling his nose likewise as if he too felt the pain. 

After a bit of shuffling, you sit astride the edge of the bathtub, one foot on the floor, the other one supported on the opposite edge.

Walter grabs the shower head and starts to rinse your wound. Normally, the cold water would have given you goosebumps, but now it feels like a futile attempt to cool down your overheated body. Of course, the fact that he’s so fucking close isn’t exactly helpful. You feel the heat radiating off his body as his arm and shoulders repeatedly press against you, and his scent invades your senses - a hint of smoke from the bonfire, mixed with a whiff of his cologne and something irresistible. Him.

When the wound is clean, he wets a washcloth to gently wash dried blood and dirt off your leg. Then, he pats your knee dry before carefully applying a thin layer of antibiotic cream. 

His head is bent over your knee, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Meanwhile, you admire the tangle of unruly curls on his head, wondering what his hair would feel like if you buried your hand in it as he buried his head between your legs… For fucks sake, Y/N, keep it together, you scold yourself and your raging hormones.  

“Is that better?” You almost jump when you hear his voice. 

“Yeah, it almost doesn’t hurt anymore. You do that often, huh?” you manage to reply.  

“Something like that,” he smiles as he bandages your knee, his eyes repeatedly flicking between your knee and your face. And what a pair of eyes he has! Blue like the sea on a sunny day with a patch of brown in his left eye, as you notice now.  

“There we go,” he murmurs as he secures the end of the bandage. 

“Well, thanks for doctoring me,” you answer, tentatively bending and straightening your leg. 

“It’s the least I could do after knocking you down, right?” 

For a moment, you just smile at each other. You expect him to stand up, but he stays crouched down in front of you, still so damn close. Your smiles slowly fade as you lock eyes with each other, and the air suddenly feels thick to breathe. His gaze wanders to your lips, and then, he slowly leans closer. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears as his lips brush yours, planting a gentle kiss on your mouth. He pulls back just a tiny bit, his hot breath fanning your face as he looks at you inquiringly, carefully watching your reaction. You almost startle yourself when you lean forward, longingly pressing your lips on his. After a few seconds, a part of your brain reminds you that you don’t know him at all, that you probably shouldn’t kiss a stranger, and the thought makes you pull back slightly. Again, you stare at each other, mesmerized, your faces only inches apart as none of you makes a move to withdraw further. Then, you lean in at the same time and that’s when your mind goes blank. You let your eyes flutter shut as your mouths melt into each other, unable to stop the sigh falling from your lips when he touches your neck, running his thumb along your jaw. You have no idea for how long you’ve been sitting here on the edge of the bathtub, kissing this beautiful stranger, losing yourself in the sensation of his soft lips and his warm hands on your skin.

The sudden sound of steps in the hallway makes you startle apart. Walter hastily stands up while your eyes remain glued to each other, blinking as if you just woke up. Seconds later, Jen appears in the doorway.   

“Walter? Ah, here you are! And Y/N, too! Walter, I thought you were already gone, but then I saw your car. Any chance you could give me a lift? My feet hurt like hell. Those damn shoes… Oh boy, what happened here?” she asks, a bit concerned, gesturing at the bandages and towels which are scattered on the floor. 

“I was on my way out, but Y/N needed some first aid,” he answers, seemingly nonchalantly skipping the reason why you needed first aid after all. 

“Aw, my poor girl! What happened?” 

“I stumbled and fell. Clumsy me,” you shrug, your mouth curving into a smile as you send him an amused look, watching in delight as his ears turn red. Cute!

“Of course, I can give you a lift,” Walter hastens to answer Jen without giving her time to answer you, earning another amused look from both of you.  

“Thank you so much, dear!” Jen chirps without pressing him further. “Let’s go then. I need to get my beauty sleep before the weekend is over.” 

Walter nods, but instead of leaving, he starts to gather bandages and other first-aid utils from the floor.

“It’s okay. I can take care of that,” you offer.   

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Jen asks. 

 “Of course,” you reassure them, smiling. “It’s fine, really.”

“Leave the wound covered for 24 hours and change the bandage daily, okay?” Walter instructs you, all businesslike. 

“Okay. Bye Walter. And thanks again.“ 

"Bye, Y/N.” He replies as he walks to the door, his expression what can only be described as a poker face. Just before he leaves the room, you see a tiny, conspiratorial smile tugging at his lips and it’s enough to give you butterflies in your stomach.

Before you know it, Jen pulls you into a big hug. “Bye, sweetheart! And take care, okay? I’m really looking forward to seeing you on Monday.“ 

“Thank you, Jen. I’m really looking forward to working with you,” you reply genuinely, hugging her back. From the corner of your eye, you see Walter stopping abruptly in the hallway. 

“Working with you?” you hear him ask her, irritated, as they walk towards the front door.

“Jesus Christ,” you hear Jen sigh, feigning desperation. “Have you been living under a rock lately, Detective? Y/N is the new transcriptionist who starts on Monday.”

Detective… Wait, what?

You can’t hear his answer, but you see him looking over his shoulder, briefly meeting your gaze with the same level of confusion that you feel, before he follows Jen outside. 

When the door closes behind them, you take a deep breath. 

You slowly shake your head as you wash your hands, scrubbing traces of dirt and blood off your fingers.

You didn’t talk about your jobs earlier, but what you just heard can only mean one thing: You haven’t met one, but two future colleagues tonight. And you kissed him. And damn, what a kiss it was! 

You press your cool hands against your hot cheeks as you look at your reflection in the mirror, watching an incredulous smile creeping across your face. 

And you will see him again. On Monday. 

Maybe… Maybe this beginning really bears a special magic. 

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