RP LOG with nychandcuffs | Karma
Matt didn't anticipate that when he got that call from Ronnie at the airport when he was attempting to say goodbye to Vee that their case was about to potentially explode. It did, though, with the new victims two children that had obviously links to their other murder victims. It was messy and inevitably, Matt didn't get to bed that night. A text message from Vee alerted him that she had arrived safely. Matt had been face down on his desk asleep when it came through. He was woken to Ronnie poking him in the arm with the evidence print outs early the next morning. They managed to make an arrest in the following days, though, and things were finally starting to cool off. One thing that was certain was the fact that Vee was never too far from Matt's mind. He was busy and distracted with the case, sure, and that probably helped him keep a impartial distance to his real feelings but when the post-arrest lull hit, Matt realised that he couldn't stop thinking about her.
His apartment, especially his bedroom, smelt like her perfume. She had left a bottle of this fruity shower gel in his shower that he just didn't make an effort to remove. He avoided logging on to the site they mostly chatted at so he didn't accidentally meet anyone else who would offer him a 'booty call'. He consistently avoided all discussions with Ronnie about dating or sex. And he had no urge to go to the chip shop where she first kissed him. That was probably his first error of post-booty call judgement. He had been going to that shop for years after Ronnie revealed it to him, and now he found himself avoiding it in favour of another pokey little chippy a few blocks in the other direction of his apartment. He was too tired to cook and didn't want to drop into Tesco for a ready-meal. Chips seemed like a good idea at the time. At the time, they tasted like a good idea too.
Only, it was now the early hours of the morning and Matt was awake, staring at the clock that was telling him it was after one thirty am. He was usually a pretty sound sleeper, but tonight something was off. He felt off. His stomach was churning, and whenever he tried to find a position more comfortable, it just started roiling all over again with more emphasis. This had to be karma. Ronnie was right; you couldn't be a chip shop traitor. You also couldn't throw a sickie without paying for it. At least, that was what Matt was starting to tell himself. He sat up in the bed, pushing the covers back and perching on the edge of the mattress. He took a few deep breath, letting them out slowly and swallowing heavily. A drink of water would help, and he flicked the lamp on so he wouldn't go arse over tit on the rug or something. As soon as he was standing, though, he knew what was inevitably going to come. He shot out of the room and into the small bathroom up the hall, but after standing over the toilet for a few moments, he couldn't even throw up to get some relief. It was almost anti-climatic, and he still felt nauseated and restless.
It was veering closer to two am now, and the thought that jumped into Matt's brain was that it would only be around 9pm in New York. Was he seriously contemplating calling Vee to whine about having a stomach ache? He straightened up with a small shrug, rubbing at his upset stomach. It was as good a plan as any. The phone seemed to far away back in his bedroom though, and he was becoming increasingly aware how weak he felt. Something was definitely off. The urge to talk to Vee was winning out, though, so he forced himself back to his bedroom with plans to stay there and curl up in a ball of misery until he could get to Boots in the morning for some Pepto. He didn't even get to dial her number before his stomach flopped over again in warning. The mobile was still clutched in his hands as he reached the toilet again, this time managing to forcefully throw up what felt like everything he had eaten in a week.
It lasted for a good twenty minutes, and he slumped onto the floor beside the toilet, spent and sweaty as he tried to regain his breath again. He couldn't even decide whether that made him feel better or worse. Whatever it was had to pass and within the next couple of hours, too. There was no way anyone would buy the food poisoning story twice, even if this time might not actually be fabricated. Clearing his throat, he grabbed for the handtowel to wipe his face. "Fuck it," he mumbled tiredly, already bringing Vee's number up on his phone. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the toilet cistern as he listened to the rings. He was surprised he didn't chicken out and end the call before she picked up, which made him realise he really did just want to hear her voice.
In New York, Vee took a step back from Euan, and turned her back as she answered the phone. Moments before they'd been discussing their case while contemplating the sandwiches in the vending machine, and another night of overtime. She knew her partner hadn't missed the look on his face as she read the called ID. In fact, U was already humming a U2 song. She reached behind her blindly to smack him, but U was already starting to head back to the squad room. Apparently he didn't want to stick around and hear her talk to her not-so-booty-call even if she'd never hear the end of it for weeks to come.
Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest, and she was almost too nervous to speak. It was stupid. It wasn't like she hadn't met him. This was just the first contact she'd had with Matt since she left London. And she missed him. Missed him more than she'd expected, and she was starting to realise how hard that was making the days. All she wanted was to be going home to him at night, but it was impossible.
"I was just thinking about you. Again," Vee finally managed to say with a smile. "Or maybe I should just say still. Not sure I ever much stop thinking about you."
Matt managed a smile at her voice, nursing the phone against his ear as he slumped into a more comfortable position on the bathroom floor. "You never mentioned you were psychic. I'll have to use my mental mind-blocking skills to better affect. I was just... yeah. Thought I would give you a call, make sure you really did make it home okay and wasn't just pulling my leg," he told her.
"I'd rather pull something else of yours," Vee answered before she could stop herself. She moved next to the vending machine and leaned against it. At least the connection didn't suck as much as she thought it might. "You never asked. Isn't that how it works. Us cops don't tend to volunteer anything. We wait until we're asked. I'm fine, Irish. Are you? Isn't it insanely early in the morning over there?"
Mat smirked faintly. "I'll make a note of that to be one of my regular get to know people questions in the future. It was eluding me until right now," he joked and rubbed a hand over his face. He still didn't feel well. In fact, he didn't feel much better at all. To tell her, or not to tell her was the million dollar question. "Yeah, it's probably close to two am by now. Figured the time difference was good for a phone call. Are you busy?"
"Make sure to ask the criminals when you got them in interrogation. You can never be too careful. They might be evasive because they can read your thoughts." Something about Matt's voice made Vee frown. "You don't just sound tired. And the timing is awfully... timely. I'm not busy. Not really. I should be going home, but I was thinking about sticking around longer. You saved me from a vending machine dinner, and boring myself stupid with paperwork."
"Sounds about right for the life of a detective," Matt agreed, looking over at the shower cubicle where they had more than their fair share of fun when she was visiting. "I couldn't sleep. Gave me a good excuse to call you. You should go home and get some rest, you know. Or are you feeling guilty about leaving your partner and want to make it up to him?"
"Personally I'm wondering if he's trying to see just how long I will stick around in an attempt to make it up to him. He's only fucking himself over, though. He'll have to do just as many hours." Vee rest her head against the machine, and closed her eyes as she pictured Matt with hair tousled from restless sleep. Maybe even shirtless and just in boxers. "And you should get some rest, too. I'll sleep when you sleep. So what's on your mind, gorgeous."
Matt felt some sweat drip down the back of his neck and he reached behind to brush it away with his fingers. "I don't doubt you both have stamina. Sounds like some sort of Mexican stand-off of bad coffee and dodgy sandwiches." He wiped his face on the towel again. "Do you want the edited evasive version or the whole box and dice?"
"Got it in one, Detective. I'd be more up to it if there was proper fish and chips. Or even Chinese." Vee sighed, opening her eyes when the image of Matt started to tug at something. "Whole box and dice. Isn't that what friends are for?"
The minute she said fish and chips, Matt moaned softly, putting a hand over his mouth as the power of the suggestion of the food was enough to make him feel like he wanted to be sick all over again. Right now, he wasn't sure he wanted to ever eat them again. He managed to swallow down the urge to gag, shifting again so he didn't get a numb arse on the cold tiles. "So I'm told. I've just not had notches on the bed post with most of my pals," he replied. "I couldn't just not sleep. I woke up because I was feeling sick."
Vee cleared her throat. "Yeah, well... it's not like any more notches are possible, is it? I miss you, you know. Just in case that wasn't clear." She frowned again, her head tilting to the side as she stared at the wall across from her. It was torture being told he woke up feeling sick, and knowing she just couldn't get in the car and drive to him. "What's wrong, Matt?"
"I wasn't sure, if I had to be honest. We are on opposite sides of the world. You might need notches sooner or later," Matt reminded her, knowing that it would probably come to a point where he needed sex too, for stress relief if nothing else. It was just finding someone to satisfy him even half as much as Vee did that would be the impossible part. He wasn't sure he had the stamina to even look. "I'm not really sure. I think it's food poisoning. Ironic, huh? I'm a chip shop traitor."
"They're not going to be you." Vee didn't even disguise the disappointment in her voice. None of them would be Matt. Even Euan was off the menu now, and she wasn't even sure he'd satisfy her anymore. "A traitor? So you didn't... Why didn't you go to that place you took me to? And that's not ironic. Actually, yeah it is. But it's also sad. I'm sorry you got sick, baby."
Matt gave his head a slight shake, even though she couldn't see it. "No, not likely..." It just sucked, really, to admit that out loud. "Only just. I was okay when I went to bed. I thought I would feel better if I just, you know, threw up and got it out of my system, but that didn't even work. This is karma. This is what I get for being devious. Not that I mean anything crappy by that. I was thinking about you, I didn't just call because I was feeling shite. I, uh, didn't really feel like going to that other place. Just thought I might try somewhere else..."
Vee felt her eyebrows go up slightly as something fell into place. "Did I ruin your chip shop? Wait, you were thinking about me? Good. Then I know I'm not alone in driving myself crazy. This is fucking torture, Irish. And since I can't be there to face the puking test, you're just going to have to give me something, and follow some directions, okay?"
"No, I was just being stupid. Sentimental maybe. You didn't ruin it, love." Matt let out a slow breath, trying to just coax his body into feeling better. It was probably just the start, though. He was actually starting to feel worse with his gut twisting with uncomfortable cramps. He hated illnesses like this, with absolutely no control over what they were about to put you through. Maybe he could just plead a family emergency tomorrow. He really did not want to have to phone in sick again. "Why wouldn't I be thinking about you? That's what friends do, isn't it? What's a bloody puking test? You score me out of ten for colour and consistency? I didn't have a stopwatch handy, but it went for about twenty minutes. Epic. Like a hangover spew, only no relief of passing out afterwards in an unconscious bliss. So, what am I giving and if the directions involve moving, I'll have to take a raincheck."
"Sentimental? Sentimental doesn't always go with the friends thing... Even if talking and thinking about each other is." Vee had a strong feeling her and Matt weren't made to be friends. They could fake it all they like, but something had flipped while she'd been in England with him, and now friends would never be good enough. "No, I don't score you. Puking test is when we find out if I'm worthy, and if this... friendship is the real deal. If you puke and it doesn't freak me out, then it's a true thing." Her nose scrunched up slightly. "Twenty minutes? Seriously? I was going to ask you to at least put a cold wash cloth on the back of your neck but I guess that'll be a raincheck."
Matt cleared his throat softly, which was sore from the effort of being sick, and closed his eyes to rest his head against the wall. "I don't think I have a fever. I feel really, really shite, though," he admitted with another heavy sigh. "Now I have the dilemma of wondering what the hell I'm going to tell them at work if I can't make it in. Food poisoning twice in two weeks sounds a bit questionable. Why haven't I ever heard about this test? To be honest, though, I'm not really a squeamish person. I've seen worse than vomit in my time as a cop. If someone is ill, I do what I can to help."
"It's not about a fever, but I bet you're sweating from the exertion. Throwing up isn't easy on a body, and a twenty minute spewing session would have to take its toll. I know it's not me to curl up against, but a cold face wash cloth will make you feel better. Trust me," Vee added gently. "How about your last lay gave you crabs? I'm tempted to call in myself since they all seem so set on believing it. I can just say it's flaring up and I don't want to risk infecting the squad. The test? It's a movie thing. I can't remember which one. I can't say I am either, but sometimes it's the taking care of people that can be the make or break part."
Matt realised he was still sweating and wiped at his forehead with the back of his wrist. "You've never taken care of anyone before?" he asked, wondering if he could get away with lying down on the cool tiles. It was nice talking to her, but he was realising that it would have been way better to have her here, even just as company. He wasn't needy, but he knew they had a connection. It wasn't something he could ignore. "You sleep with the whole squad? That's a heavy schedule you have there," he joked and then tried to clear his throat again but it just made him feel like he was going to throw up again. "Hold on a minute," he told her and pushed away from the wall to hang over the toilet again. At least when he threw up this time, it wasn't anywhere near as much as the first time and he was back to the phone in about five minutes. "Okay, are you still there? Any chance you could catch a quick flight to London on your day off?" he joked again, his voice rough as he knelt up to get a wet cloth from the sink like she suggested.
Vee had listened to his vomiting, the noise not something missed by the phone. Her own stomach clenched in sympathy, and also because no matter how much she wanted to be there, she couldn't. She had started to pace the hall, her body restless the more she just thought about being there with Matt. The moment she heard his voice again, she stopped. The corner of her mouth tugged up, but there was no amusement in her voice. "Yeah, I'm here. Don't tempt me. I would in a heartbeat if it was even remotely possible. Seven hours there plus waiting time... It'd leave us with, what? Six hours together assuming I could make it a complete turn around in twenty-four hours. Fuck, seriously wished I'd banged a pilot with a private jet, or something."
"Sorry, I'm not quite on pilot wages yet," Matt returned as he wiped the cloth over his face. He probably didn't wring it out enough, because the water dripped off it and ran down his neck and chest, but it felt nice. Maybe he did have a fever, because he was boiling for a winter night. "Seven hour flight, three hours at the airport before the flight, luggage checks and collections, Immigration. I don't think it's a day turnaround trip, but nice wishful thinking. Can't say I'd be much company anyway."
"You don't need to be if you're sick. It's about taking care of you. And to answer your question, no, not really. No one's ever needed me to take care of them, and I haven't ever really been in a relationship to take care of someone else. I've never... wanted to take care of anyone before." Vee wet her lips and found the vending machine again, but this time she let her forehead fall against it to try and knock some sense into herself. "This fucking sucks."
Matt was slumped against the wall again. He was tired, but he knew his gut wouldn't let him sleep yet. "Well, you're off the hook. You don't need to change tactics now. I'm used to taking care of myself. I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. It's pointless wishing I got ill when you were here so I could have someone to commiserate with. I hear it's nice having someone around when you feel like crap, but I haven't overly experienced it myself."
"I don't want to be off the hook," Vee almost whispered into the phone. The admission felt like this huge weight was lifted off her chest, like saying it out loud had at least lightened some of the load she'd been carrying around with her since she'd come back. "I miss you, I want to be there, I want to take care of you. I want to commiserate. I want to be the one that's wiping your brow, and shoving a thermometer up your ass--arse--or whatever it is that happens. I want to be the one to coax you back to bed, and just lie there and hold you. And I want to be the one there when you start to feel better and slow, healing sex is on the menu. I want to be the one you experience all that with so we both know it's nice."
Matt listened quietly to her admissions, feeling guilty that he made her second guess herself on some level. It was nice to hear, though. Really nice, and it made him realise that maybe Ronnie wasn't just being an annoying prat with all the talk of girlfriends and stuff. He wanted Matt to be happy, and right now, a relationship sounded appealing to him. Only, there was only one person he was interested in trying that with and it was an impossibility. "No chance you have long service leave owing? Maternity leave? Fake pregnancy?" he asked, only half joking.
Vee blinked. "Actually..." she trailed off, her mind slowly working as she did some calculations. U would be pissed, and he would still think she was crazy as all fuck, but what if doing this was the totally non-crazy thing to do? What if trying a relationship with Matt was the right thing? She knew she missed him. Knew she wanted nothing more than to be in England with him than anywhere else. If she could drag U with her, she would. But then he'd lose out on his job, and his... lifestyle. "Knock me up on my long service leave, and we could get the maternity leave, too."
Matt stilled and blinked. "I think I'm too sick to tell if you're joking or not," he admitted. "Are you joking?"
"Only about being knocked up," Vee returned calmly, pushing off the vending machine. She was suddenly wide awake again, feeling like her entire body was buzzing with anticipation. "If I could get my long service approved, would you have me?"
Matt put a hand over his forehead, trying to get his head around it. The sick feeling was making it hard to stay rational, because he just wanted to say yes without contemplating it. "Hang on. What about your work? How long? What happens when it's over?" he managed to ask. This would mean he really did have to tell Ronnie, maybe everyone else too. He couldn't just keep her covert if she was here for longer than a few days. Things could get quite intense.
"I... Matt, I know you're a workaholic and for the most part so am I, but my mind isn't here. It's back there with you. My work is only going to suffer if I can't do something about what we unintentionally started. I don't want the answer to be cutting you out of my life like it didn't happen." Vee had started pacing again, her boots clicking slightly on the linoleum floor. "I don't know how long. I barely remember what I had for breakfast let alone how much long service I have. I know I haven't used any in a while. Years. Sick leave, but not long service. I don't know what happens when it's over. I can't answer that, Irish."
This was quite heavy stuff for him to try and process when his stomach was churning like it was. "Um..." he began and pushed his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure he wanted to put stock into something that was just basically a more lengthy vacation that she would have to go home again from anyway when it was over. What was the point? He could only see it leading to heartache, and sex wasn't as important to him to need an extended booty call. "Maybe you should think more about this," he suggested gently.
Euan had appeared back at the end of the hall, and motioned to Vee that she needed to come back to the squad room. He had that look he got when there was a breakthrough on a case, and Virginia sighed. "Fuck, I gotta go, baby. I lo--" She wasn't sure why, but she was sure she was about to say three words that really shouldn't have been uttered at that moment. For some reason she had felt like she'd suddenly been transported in the moment, and she was on the phone to her spouse telling him she had to go, and that she loved him. Vee raised her hand to tell U to hang on. "I will think about it more. Promise. You're right. It's probably just the exhaustion talking. And the worry. I'll try and call you later, okay? I want to make sure you don't die on me."
Matt gave a slight nod, but he was frowning, wondering why he suddenly felt like he had the whole weight on him. Maybe it wasn't food poisoning, maybe he was coming down with the flu. He felt sick, and miserable now all of a sudden. "Okay. Well, have a good night. I'm just going to crawl into bed and try to sleep. After I text Ronnie. Time to fess up," he realised. "I'll speak to you soon..."
"I'm sorry," Vee murmured into the phone as she started to walk slowly towards Euan. "I'd stay on the phone all night to you if I could. I'll call you as soon as I can, but if you want to sleep, just put your phone on silent. I'll leave you a bunch of messages you can wake up to. I hope you feel better soon, Irish. Good luck with Ronnie."
To Matt, it all sounded quite final and that was his fault. He just couldn't tempt fate on temporary maybes. He didn't want to get hurt. "Yeah, night," he murmured and ended the call. He put the phone down on the tiles with a small shake of his head. He didn't care what anyone thought. He was staying in bed tomorrow to die in peace.
Word Count | 4,417
His apartment, especially his bedroom, smelt like her perfume. She had left a bottle of this fruity shower gel in his shower that he just didn't make an effort to remove. He avoided logging on to the site they mostly chatted at so he didn't accidentally meet anyone else who would offer him a 'booty call'. He consistently avoided all discussions with Ronnie about dating or sex. And he had no urge to go to the chip shop where she first kissed him. That was probably his first error of post-booty call judgement. He had been going to that shop for years after Ronnie revealed it to him, and now he found himself avoiding it in favour of another pokey little chippy a few blocks in the other direction of his apartment. He was too tired to cook and didn't want to drop into Tesco for a ready-meal. Chips seemed like a good idea at the time. At the time, they tasted like a good idea too.
Only, it was now the early hours of the morning and Matt was awake, staring at the clock that was telling him it was after one thirty am. He was usually a pretty sound sleeper, but tonight something was off. He felt off. His stomach was churning, and whenever he tried to find a position more comfortable, it just started roiling all over again with more emphasis. This had to be karma. Ronnie was right; you couldn't be a chip shop traitor. You also couldn't throw a sickie without paying for it. At least, that was what Matt was starting to tell himself. He sat up in the bed, pushing the covers back and perching on the edge of the mattress. He took a few deep breath, letting them out slowly and swallowing heavily. A drink of water would help, and he flicked the lamp on so he wouldn't go arse over tit on the rug or something. As soon as he was standing, though, he knew what was inevitably going to come. He shot out of the room and into the small bathroom up the hall, but after standing over the toilet for a few moments, he couldn't even throw up to get some relief. It was almost anti-climatic, and he still felt nauseated and restless.
It was veering closer to two am now, and the thought that jumped into Matt's brain was that it would only be around 9pm in New York. Was he seriously contemplating calling Vee to whine about having a stomach ache? He straightened up with a small shrug, rubbing at his upset stomach. It was as good a plan as any. The phone seemed to far away back in his bedroom though, and he was becoming increasingly aware how weak he felt. Something was definitely off. The urge to talk to Vee was winning out, though, so he forced himself back to his bedroom with plans to stay there and curl up in a ball of misery until he could get to Boots in the morning for some Pepto. He didn't even get to dial her number before his stomach flopped over again in warning. The mobile was still clutched in his hands as he reached the toilet again, this time managing to forcefully throw up what felt like everything he had eaten in a week.
It lasted for a good twenty minutes, and he slumped onto the floor beside the toilet, spent and sweaty as he tried to regain his breath again. He couldn't even decide whether that made him feel better or worse. Whatever it was had to pass and within the next couple of hours, too. There was no way anyone would buy the food poisoning story twice, even if this time might not actually be fabricated. Clearing his throat, he grabbed for the handtowel to wipe his face. "Fuck it," he mumbled tiredly, already bringing Vee's number up on his phone. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the toilet cistern as he listened to the rings. He was surprised he didn't chicken out and end the call before she picked up, which made him realise he really did just want to hear her voice.
In New York, Vee took a step back from Euan, and turned her back as she answered the phone. Moments before they'd been discussing their case while contemplating the sandwiches in the vending machine, and another night of overtime. She knew her partner hadn't missed the look on his face as she read the called ID. In fact, U was already humming a U2 song. She reached behind her blindly to smack him, but U was already starting to head back to the squad room. Apparently he didn't want to stick around and hear her talk to her not-so-booty-call even if she'd never hear the end of it for weeks to come.
Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest, and she was almost too nervous to speak. It was stupid. It wasn't like she hadn't met him. This was just the first contact she'd had with Matt since she left London. And she missed him. Missed him more than she'd expected, and she was starting to realise how hard that was making the days. All she wanted was to be going home to him at night, but it was impossible.
"I was just thinking about you. Again," Vee finally managed to say with a smile. "Or maybe I should just say still. Not sure I ever much stop thinking about you."
Matt managed a smile at her voice, nursing the phone against his ear as he slumped into a more comfortable position on the bathroom floor. "You never mentioned you were psychic. I'll have to use my mental mind-blocking skills to better affect. I was just... yeah. Thought I would give you a call, make sure you really did make it home okay and wasn't just pulling my leg," he told her.
"I'd rather pull something else of yours," Vee answered before she could stop herself. She moved next to the vending machine and leaned against it. At least the connection didn't suck as much as she thought it might. "You never asked. Isn't that how it works. Us cops don't tend to volunteer anything. We wait until we're asked. I'm fine, Irish. Are you? Isn't it insanely early in the morning over there?"
Mat smirked faintly. "I'll make a note of that to be one of my regular get to know people questions in the future. It was eluding me until right now," he joked and rubbed a hand over his face. He still didn't feel well. In fact, he didn't feel much better at all. To tell her, or not to tell her was the million dollar question. "Yeah, it's probably close to two am by now. Figured the time difference was good for a phone call. Are you busy?"
"Make sure to ask the criminals when you got them in interrogation. You can never be too careful. They might be evasive because they can read your thoughts." Something about Matt's voice made Vee frown. "You don't just sound tired. And the timing is awfully... timely. I'm not busy. Not really. I should be going home, but I was thinking about sticking around longer. You saved me from a vending machine dinner, and boring myself stupid with paperwork."
"Sounds about right for the life of a detective," Matt agreed, looking over at the shower cubicle where they had more than their fair share of fun when she was visiting. "I couldn't sleep. Gave me a good excuse to call you. You should go home and get some rest, you know. Or are you feeling guilty about leaving your partner and want to make it up to him?"
"Personally I'm wondering if he's trying to see just how long I will stick around in an attempt to make it up to him. He's only fucking himself over, though. He'll have to do just as many hours." Vee rest her head against the machine, and closed her eyes as she pictured Matt with hair tousled from restless sleep. Maybe even shirtless and just in boxers. "And you should get some rest, too. I'll sleep when you sleep. So what's on your mind, gorgeous."
Matt felt some sweat drip down the back of his neck and he reached behind to brush it away with his fingers. "I don't doubt you both have stamina. Sounds like some sort of Mexican stand-off of bad coffee and dodgy sandwiches." He wiped his face on the towel again. "Do you want the edited evasive version or the whole box and dice?"
"Got it in one, Detective. I'd be more up to it if there was proper fish and chips. Or even Chinese." Vee sighed, opening her eyes when the image of Matt started to tug at something. "Whole box and dice. Isn't that what friends are for?"
The minute she said fish and chips, Matt moaned softly, putting a hand over his mouth as the power of the suggestion of the food was enough to make him feel like he wanted to be sick all over again. Right now, he wasn't sure he wanted to ever eat them again. He managed to swallow down the urge to gag, shifting again so he didn't get a numb arse on the cold tiles. "So I'm told. I've just not had notches on the bed post with most of my pals," he replied. "I couldn't just not sleep. I woke up because I was feeling sick."
Vee cleared her throat. "Yeah, well... it's not like any more notches are possible, is it? I miss you, you know. Just in case that wasn't clear." She frowned again, her head tilting to the side as she stared at the wall across from her. It was torture being told he woke up feeling sick, and knowing she just couldn't get in the car and drive to him. "What's wrong, Matt?"
"I wasn't sure, if I had to be honest. We are on opposite sides of the world. You might need notches sooner or later," Matt reminded her, knowing that it would probably come to a point where he needed sex too, for stress relief if nothing else. It was just finding someone to satisfy him even half as much as Vee did that would be the impossible part. He wasn't sure he had the stamina to even look. "I'm not really sure. I think it's food poisoning. Ironic, huh? I'm a chip shop traitor."
"They're not going to be you." Vee didn't even disguise the disappointment in her voice. None of them would be Matt. Even Euan was off the menu now, and she wasn't even sure he'd satisfy her anymore. "A traitor? So you didn't... Why didn't you go to that place you took me to? And that's not ironic. Actually, yeah it is. But it's also sad. I'm sorry you got sick, baby."
Matt gave his head a slight shake, even though she couldn't see it. "No, not likely..." It just sucked, really, to admit that out loud. "Only just. I was okay when I went to bed. I thought I would feel better if I just, you know, threw up and got it out of my system, but that didn't even work. This is karma. This is what I get for being devious. Not that I mean anything crappy by that. I was thinking about you, I didn't just call because I was feeling shite. I, uh, didn't really feel like going to that other place. Just thought I might try somewhere else..."
Vee felt her eyebrows go up slightly as something fell into place. "Did I ruin your chip shop? Wait, you were thinking about me? Good. Then I know I'm not alone in driving myself crazy. This is fucking torture, Irish. And since I can't be there to face the puking test, you're just going to have to give me something, and follow some directions, okay?"
"No, I was just being stupid. Sentimental maybe. You didn't ruin it, love." Matt let out a slow breath, trying to just coax his body into feeling better. It was probably just the start, though. He was actually starting to feel worse with his gut twisting with uncomfortable cramps. He hated illnesses like this, with absolutely no control over what they were about to put you through. Maybe he could just plead a family emergency tomorrow. He really did not want to have to phone in sick again. "Why wouldn't I be thinking about you? That's what friends do, isn't it? What's a bloody puking test? You score me out of ten for colour and consistency? I didn't have a stopwatch handy, but it went for about twenty minutes. Epic. Like a hangover spew, only no relief of passing out afterwards in an unconscious bliss. So, what am I giving and if the directions involve moving, I'll have to take a raincheck."
"Sentimental? Sentimental doesn't always go with the friends thing... Even if talking and thinking about each other is." Vee had a strong feeling her and Matt weren't made to be friends. They could fake it all they like, but something had flipped while she'd been in England with him, and now friends would never be good enough. "No, I don't score you. Puking test is when we find out if I'm worthy, and if this... friendship is the real deal. If you puke and it doesn't freak me out, then it's a true thing." Her nose scrunched up slightly. "Twenty minutes? Seriously? I was going to ask you to at least put a cold wash cloth on the back of your neck but I guess that'll be a raincheck."
Matt cleared his throat softly, which was sore from the effort of being sick, and closed his eyes to rest his head against the wall. "I don't think I have a fever. I feel really, really shite, though," he admitted with another heavy sigh. "Now I have the dilemma of wondering what the hell I'm going to tell them at work if I can't make it in. Food poisoning twice in two weeks sounds a bit questionable. Why haven't I ever heard about this test? To be honest, though, I'm not really a squeamish person. I've seen worse than vomit in my time as a cop. If someone is ill, I do what I can to help."
"It's not about a fever, but I bet you're sweating from the exertion. Throwing up isn't easy on a body, and a twenty minute spewing session would have to take its toll. I know it's not me to curl up against, but a cold face wash cloth will make you feel better. Trust me," Vee added gently. "How about your last lay gave you crabs? I'm tempted to call in myself since they all seem so set on believing it. I can just say it's flaring up and I don't want to risk infecting the squad. The test? It's a movie thing. I can't remember which one. I can't say I am either, but sometimes it's the taking care of people that can be the make or break part."
Matt realised he was still sweating and wiped at his forehead with the back of his wrist. "You've never taken care of anyone before?" he asked, wondering if he could get away with lying down on the cool tiles. It was nice talking to her, but he was realising that it would have been way better to have her here, even just as company. He wasn't needy, but he knew they had a connection. It wasn't something he could ignore. "You sleep with the whole squad? That's a heavy schedule you have there," he joked and then tried to clear his throat again but it just made him feel like he was going to throw up again. "Hold on a minute," he told her and pushed away from the wall to hang over the toilet again. At least when he threw up this time, it wasn't anywhere near as much as the first time and he was back to the phone in about five minutes. "Okay, are you still there? Any chance you could catch a quick flight to London on your day off?" he joked again, his voice rough as he knelt up to get a wet cloth from the sink like she suggested.
Vee had listened to his vomiting, the noise not something missed by the phone. Her own stomach clenched in sympathy, and also because no matter how much she wanted to be there, she couldn't. She had started to pace the hall, her body restless the more she just thought about being there with Matt. The moment she heard his voice again, she stopped. The corner of her mouth tugged up, but there was no amusement in her voice. "Yeah, I'm here. Don't tempt me. I would in a heartbeat if it was even remotely possible. Seven hours there plus waiting time... It'd leave us with, what? Six hours together assuming I could make it a complete turn around in twenty-four hours. Fuck, seriously wished I'd banged a pilot with a private jet, or something."
"Sorry, I'm not quite on pilot wages yet," Matt returned as he wiped the cloth over his face. He probably didn't wring it out enough, because the water dripped off it and ran down his neck and chest, but it felt nice. Maybe he did have a fever, because he was boiling for a winter night. "Seven hour flight, three hours at the airport before the flight, luggage checks and collections, Immigration. I don't think it's a day turnaround trip, but nice wishful thinking. Can't say I'd be much company anyway."
"You don't need to be if you're sick. It's about taking care of you. And to answer your question, no, not really. No one's ever needed me to take care of them, and I haven't ever really been in a relationship to take care of someone else. I've never... wanted to take care of anyone before." Vee wet her lips and found the vending machine again, but this time she let her forehead fall against it to try and knock some sense into herself. "This fucking sucks."
Matt was slumped against the wall again. He was tired, but he knew his gut wouldn't let him sleep yet. "Well, you're off the hook. You don't need to change tactics now. I'm used to taking care of myself. I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. It's pointless wishing I got ill when you were here so I could have someone to commiserate with. I hear it's nice having someone around when you feel like crap, but I haven't overly experienced it myself."
"I don't want to be off the hook," Vee almost whispered into the phone. The admission felt like this huge weight was lifted off her chest, like saying it out loud had at least lightened some of the load she'd been carrying around with her since she'd come back. "I miss you, I want to be there, I want to take care of you. I want to commiserate. I want to be the one that's wiping your brow, and shoving a thermometer up your ass--arse--or whatever it is that happens. I want to be the one to coax you back to bed, and just lie there and hold you. And I want to be the one there when you start to feel better and slow, healing sex is on the menu. I want to be the one you experience all that with so we both know it's nice."
Matt listened quietly to her admissions, feeling guilty that he made her second guess herself on some level. It was nice to hear, though. Really nice, and it made him realise that maybe Ronnie wasn't just being an annoying prat with all the talk of girlfriends and stuff. He wanted Matt to be happy, and right now, a relationship sounded appealing to him. Only, there was only one person he was interested in trying that with and it was an impossibility. "No chance you have long service leave owing? Maternity leave? Fake pregnancy?" he asked, only half joking.
Vee blinked. "Actually..." she trailed off, her mind slowly working as she did some calculations. U would be pissed, and he would still think she was crazy as all fuck, but what if doing this was the totally non-crazy thing to do? What if trying a relationship with Matt was the right thing? She knew she missed him. Knew she wanted nothing more than to be in England with him than anywhere else. If she could drag U with her, she would. But then he'd lose out on his job, and his... lifestyle. "Knock me up on my long service leave, and we could get the maternity leave, too."
Matt stilled and blinked. "I think I'm too sick to tell if you're joking or not," he admitted. "Are you joking?"
"Only about being knocked up," Vee returned calmly, pushing off the vending machine. She was suddenly wide awake again, feeling like her entire body was buzzing with anticipation. "If I could get my long service approved, would you have me?"
Matt put a hand over his forehead, trying to get his head around it. The sick feeling was making it hard to stay rational, because he just wanted to say yes without contemplating it. "Hang on. What about your work? How long? What happens when it's over?" he managed to ask. This would mean he really did have to tell Ronnie, maybe everyone else too. He couldn't just keep her covert if she was here for longer than a few days. Things could get quite intense.
"I... Matt, I know you're a workaholic and for the most part so am I, but my mind isn't here. It's back there with you. My work is only going to suffer if I can't do something about what we unintentionally started. I don't want the answer to be cutting you out of my life like it didn't happen." Vee had started pacing again, her boots clicking slightly on the linoleum floor. "I don't know how long. I barely remember what I had for breakfast let alone how much long service I have. I know I haven't used any in a while. Years. Sick leave, but not long service. I don't know what happens when it's over. I can't answer that, Irish."
This was quite heavy stuff for him to try and process when his stomach was churning like it was. "Um..." he began and pushed his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure he wanted to put stock into something that was just basically a more lengthy vacation that she would have to go home again from anyway when it was over. What was the point? He could only see it leading to heartache, and sex wasn't as important to him to need an extended booty call. "Maybe you should think more about this," he suggested gently.
Euan had appeared back at the end of the hall, and motioned to Vee that she needed to come back to the squad room. He had that look he got when there was a breakthrough on a case, and Virginia sighed. "Fuck, I gotta go, baby. I lo--" She wasn't sure why, but she was sure she was about to say three words that really shouldn't have been uttered at that moment. For some reason she had felt like she'd suddenly been transported in the moment, and she was on the phone to her spouse telling him she had to go, and that she loved him. Vee raised her hand to tell U to hang on. "I will think about it more. Promise. You're right. It's probably just the exhaustion talking. And the worry. I'll try and call you later, okay? I want to make sure you don't die on me."
Matt gave a slight nod, but he was frowning, wondering why he suddenly felt like he had the whole weight on him. Maybe it wasn't food poisoning, maybe he was coming down with the flu. He felt sick, and miserable now all of a sudden. "Okay. Well, have a good night. I'm just going to crawl into bed and try to sleep. After I text Ronnie. Time to fess up," he realised. "I'll speak to you soon..."
"I'm sorry," Vee murmured into the phone as she started to walk slowly towards Euan. "I'd stay on the phone all night to you if I could. I'll call you as soon as I can, but if you want to sleep, just put your phone on silent. I'll leave you a bunch of messages you can wake up to. I hope you feel better soon, Irish. Good luck with Ronnie."
To Matt, it all sounded quite final and that was his fault. He just couldn't tempt fate on temporary maybes. He didn't want to get hurt. "Yeah, night," he murmured and ended the call. He put the phone down on the tiles with a small shake of his head. He didn't care what anyone thought. He was staying in bed tomorrow to die in peace.
Word Count | 4,417