Title: Night Out
Words: 2,260
Characters: Abbie Mills, Ichabod Crane, Luke Morales, Devon Jones
Summary: Luke invites Abbie and Ichabod out for a night of drinking with the rest of the SHPD. Abbie tries to convince Ichabod that Luke isn't a Hessian spy. Lots of jealous!Luke, exasperated!Abbie, and drunk!Ichabod :)
A/N: My first foray into SH fanfiction! Super excited! This is technically set after "John Doe" but only contains minor spoilers. Enjoy!
Part I
"You know what they say about all work and no play."
Abbie didn't even bother to look up from filling out her arrest report for the latest Hessian baddie she and Crane had come across. She didn't need to to know that Luke was standing in front of her desk, a joking half smile on his face.
"Hi, Luke," she greeted dully, scribbling a description of the carnage said Hessian had wrought at Sleepy Hollow Savings Bank, an 18th century building that happened to have been conveniently built over a hellmouth.
To be honest, she'd been dreading this conversation with Luke for a while, and had been actively avoiding him to the best of her ability. It had meant spending an awful lot of time down in the dusty Archives. On occasion, work required her to be at her desk, and the Sleepy Hollow Police Department was not big enough for them not to run into each other.
Luke somehow translated her greeting to mean that she would happily have a chat with him, and made himself at home in the chair next to her desk. Abbie looked up at him in alarm, but he didn't seem to notice as he surveyed the room.
"Where's the Professor at?" he asked, turning back to her and casting his gaze over her, as if she was hiding all 6'1 of Crane somewhere on her person. Luke smirked, but not in a way that conveyed amusement. "I thought you two were attached at the hip these days?"
Abbie shot him a withering look before returning pointedly to her paperwork. "I don't know where Crane is," she said, though she knew perfectly well he was doing research in the Archives. "Now, I know you didn't come over here looking for him, so there'd better be a good reason you're bothering me while I'm trying to get these reports done."
Luke cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Abbie enjoyed a moment of vindictive satisfaction, before it faded, leaving only guilt that their relationship had boiled down to this.
"A few of us are heading over to Tarrytown for a drink after our shifts are done," he said, and she could feel his eyes on her. She'd always been forcefully aware of his gaze on her. "You should come, get out of the office for a bit."
"Can't," she said automatically. "Too much work to do."
"Abbie," he said softly, causing her hand to pause on the paper. She swallowed the lump in her throat before picking up her head and looking at him directly. His eyes had a gentleness in them and a plea, and she was struck forcibly with the memory of them only a month earlier when she'd broken it off with him a few weeks before her impending departure to Quantico.
"We've barely talked at all since before Corbin's murder. I know you've gotta be torn up about it still."
"Luke, don't," she said, fidgeting with the papers scattered around her desk. With all the help she and Crane were getting from Corbin's files, she could still pretend like he was alive. She didn't need Luke reminding her that he wasn't. "I'm, I'm fine," she told him, flashing him a smile that hopefully said, See? I'm perfectly happy and 100% sane. Apocalypse? What Apocalypse?
Her ex didn't seem at all convinced and gently covered her hand with his on top of her desk.
"Come on," Luke said, those big, brown eyes of his holding her gaze. "Give me a little credit. I think I know you better than that. You've been running yourself into the ground with all the craziness that's been happening lately. Just come out for a little bit tonight. I…miss you, Ab."
She couldn't deny that a part of her missed him, too. Luke could be a grade-A jackass when he wanted to be, but he'd been really good to her. Everything with Luke had been so simple and uncomplicated. He was a drastic change from the type of guys she'd spent her late teens and early twenties running around with. He'd made her feel beautiful and wanted, and maybe she had been quick to end their relationship when it'd looked like it was getting too serious. I love you, Abbie, he'd told her, and it had been the first time anyone had said that to her and she'd believed it. Luke had been willing to move down to DC with her, even after only 9 months of dating, but she hadn't been ready for that and had broken it off. She'd thought he'd moved on, but the squeeze of his hand on hers told her he hadn't.
"Lieutenant, I believe I have found something—"
Abbie quickly moved her hand out from under Luke's just as Ichabod came careening around the corner. He paused, his eyes switching from her to Luke and back again, before he snapped closed the open tome in his hand and tucked it behind his back.
"Detective," he said, inclining his head to look before focusing on Abbie. Something in her expression must have alerted him to the fact that he'd interrupted something. "Pardon the intrusion. I shall return later with my findings."
"No!" Abbie found herself blurting out. She was not above using Crane to get out of this awkward encounter. An idea formed in her mind. "Morales here was just inviting us out tonight for drinks with a bunch of the guys."
Luke looked for a moment like he wanted to protest this, but seemed to think better of it. He pasted a tightly lipped smile on his face. "You up for it, Crane?"
"An outing tonight?" Crane mused, eyes staring past them into space, completely missing the pleading look on Abbie's face. "I had planned to do a bit more research this evening."
"You would think the Apocalypse were imminent with the way you two have been overworking yourselves," Luke scoffed.
Ichabod's eyes zeroed in on him immediately. "What do you know?" he demanded.
Abbie jumped up. "Ha, the Apocalypse, good one, Luke," she laughed weakly, walking around her desk and giving Ichabod a warning look when she was out of Luke's eyesight. Ichabod continued to stare at Luke suspiciously as he slowly rose out of the chair beside her desk. She turned back to him, glad that she was in between the two men, or she was sure that Ichabod would have gladly dragged Luke into Interrogation. Abbie gave her ex what she hoped wasn't too fake of a smile. "Maybe we have been working ourselves too hard. Count us in for tonight."
"Uh, great," Luke said, staring uneasily over her head to where Ichabod was still glaring at him. "See you guys later, then."
He edged away, casting a disconcerted look over his shoulder at Ichabod as he went.
"Come on, Crane," Abbie said, moving in the opposite direction. Her report would have to be finished later.
Ichabod fell into step beside her. "He knows something."
"He does not," Abbie insisted, leading the now familiar way to the Archives. Even though Irving had gotten them a key, going through the tunnels was still more convenient.
"How else do you explain his insinuation about our current crisis?" Crane challenged, allowing her to go through into the underground passage first. "He was baiting us."
"He was making a joke," Abbie said, allowing her exasperation to creep into her voice. "You do know what a joke is, right?"
Crane made a disgruntled noise behind her, which made Abbie grin, but otherwise chose to ignore her remark. He pressed on, "Do you not recall what the Hessian mercenary divulged to us in Sheriff Corbin's cabin? Our enemies are all around us. Neighbors, friends, many of whom have been lying in wait all these years for the opportune moment to strike."
They had finally arrived in the Archives, and with an internal sigh Abbie turned to him. "Luke is not a Hessian spy," Abbie told him.
"And what makes you absolutely certain?" Ichabod asked, quirking an eyebrow.
She'd known he wouldn't just take her word for it. "The first thing you checked for on that guy in Corbin's cabin was some sort of marking, a tattoo, right?"
"Yes, every Hessian has one, so that they can easily be identified by their brethren."
"Right, well…I know for a fact that Luke doesn't have an tattoos," Abbie said slowly, feeling herself blush slightly.
"He told you this himself?"
"He didn't need to."
"Then how could you possibly kn—Oh."
Ichabod's cheeks flushed a bright red and he carefully averted his gaze from her. Abbie looked down at her feet, unsuccessfully trying to hide her smile. She really couldn't help herself from poking fun at him, though.
"What, no scandalized, 'Miss Mills, that is most indecorous,'" she teased, mimicking his accent. "Or, 'Relations before marriage, oh, the impropriety!'"
"I truly detest it when you do that," Ichabod said sourly, though the effect was ruined by the rather tomato-like shade his face had taken.
Abbie bit her lip to keep from laughing and moved over to an abandoned case file of Corbin's that she'd been reading. Crane followed her after a moment, taking a seat across from her delicately. Abbie's eyes remained firmly planted on Corbin's report, but she raised them when Crane exhaled resignedly.
"This is the 21st century, as you elect to inform me often, and as I remain vastly unaware of the customs of this time period, I can only assume that such…acts between those who are unmarried, or even betrothed, can be seen as acceptable." Rather than seeking confirmation from Abbie of this, Crane proceeded, perhaps eager to put this topic of conversation behind them as quickly as possible. "I apologize for forcing myself into your private affairs. If you say that Detective Morales is worthy of our trust, than I will suspend my suspicion."
"Thank you."
"Until I observe the detective on my own this evening."
"What?" Abbie threw him an incredulous look. "Crane—"
Ichabod merely smirked at her. "Who does not know the meaning of a joke, now, Lieutenant?"
Abbie tried to convince Crane that they really didn't need to go out with the other officers that night, but, oddly enough, he seemed to be looking forward to the evening ahead.
"I believe your Mr. Morales may be right," Crane said to her as they left the station. "We have been working tirelessly against the forces of evil. A diverting evening out with your colleagues seems most fitting."
"If you say so," Abbie responded, climbing into the drivers seat of her Jeep. She wasn't looking forward to the night quite as much as Crane seemed to be. Abbie knew that Luke would try to draw her into a conversation about their relationship, or lack thereof, and she was dreading it. "Would you please stop referring to Luke as 'my Mr. Morales?'" she asked him, pulling the car out onto the road. "He hasn't been mine in more than a month."
"Do I detect a hint of bitterness, Lieutenant?" Crane asked. She shot him as dirty a look as she could while trying to keep her eyes on the road. This, of course, did nothing to deter him. "Or perhaps nostalgia for your former beau?"
"You're so nosy," Abbie told him, though without any real bite behind it.
"I have been told I have a rather prominent nose, yes," Ichabod grumbled, "But I fail to see how that pertains to-"
"It means inquisitive or-you know what? Nevermind."
They drove in silence for a minute, and Abbie could literally feel Ichabod sneaking surreptitious glances in her direction.
Finally, Abbie sighed. "Do I miss Luke?" she said aloud. "Sometimes. He was really good to me. He didn't grow up in Sleepy Hollow, so when we met, he knew nothing about my past. Being with him, it was like getting a clean slate."
"But if he was ignorant of your past, the difficulties of your youth, then you were only sharing one side of yourself," Ichabod argued. "Part of being in a relationship is allowing your partner to help shoulder certain burdens."
"You mean like how Katrina told you she was a witch?"
Abbie regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. It was a low blow bringing up Katrina whose absence had so glaringly left a hole in Ichabod's heart. There was a tension in the car that hadn't been there before and Abbie desperately wished that she could take back her words.
"Crane-"
"No, what you have said is true," Ichabod admitted, sounding every bit his 200 plus years. "Katrina chose not to confide in me her deepest secret."
Abbie shook her head. "She did it to protect you."
"Did she?" Ichabod asked gloomily. "At times, I suspect that she feared I would renounce her. That she believed my love was a vain love that could be diminished by the first signs of strife."
Their conversation had taken them into Tarrytown, and as Ichabod finished, Abbie pulled the Jeep into the parking lot of the bar the SHPD liked to frequent. She put the car in to park and killed the engine. They sat in silence for a moment; Abbie resisting the urge to reach out and comfort him.
"I trust that there will be copious amounts of alcohol within this establishment," Ichabod said finally.
Abbie nodded hesitantly.
"Excellent," Ichabod said, releasing his seatbelt and opening the passenger side door. "I feel as though I could use a drink. Or several."
Next chapter: Luke is a jerk, Abbie is a pool shark, and Ichabod is drunk. Please let me know what you think! :)