I do not own the Evil Within Us
Link to prompt: post/101723438166/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-is-walking-home-late
Prompt: Imagine Person A of your OTP is walking home late one night. After someone begins following them, they quickly call up Person B and frantically ask for them to come get them. Whether B comes in time to save A from this mysterious follower is up to you.
The lights of Krimson City are already shining on the wet pavement by the time he leaves the station. A quick glance at his watch tells him it's around 8:30, but he doesn't bother to check the exact minutes. He's too tired for that.
Today, his patience was tested. Specifically by one thing. One person.
Sebastian didn't like paperwork, and he wasn't good at it, either. As a result it ended in Joseph having to rewrite several forms because his partner's chicken scratch wasn't legible. He'd walked to Sebastian's desk countless times to ask what a word was. It started out as a polite question, quickly turning into a "What's this?" and then eventually becoming a jab at the offending scratch.
By the end of the day, he was more than a little pissed off at his partner.
He steps a little harder on the pavement, relishing in the slight splash his shoes made. The force makes him feel better, just a little bit, and he steps hard again. It feels good, to disrupt something instead of attempting to set things right.
A few moments pass before he realizes that he isn't the only one making splashes. There's someone behind him.
Probably someone else walking home. Someone who didn't bother to take a cab. His apartment's only a few more blocks. Ten, maybe. And he doesn't feel like hailing a cab - the street he's on isn't very busy, so it would take a bit of time and a lot of standing and arm holding up. No, thanks.
The splashes behind him get a bit closer.
He tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat, inwardly cursing as his subtle check for his gun on his belt proved fruitless. He'd left his gun locked in his desk drawer.
He'd be fine. People walk this road all the time. The person would probably turn at the next big intersection, coming up in about 50 feet. He could see the cars from here.
But they don't. The figure behind him doesn't turn at this intersection, nor the next one. They follow him down a slightly darker road, the pavement illuminated only by a few streetlights and a bar sign.
The splashes get just a bit closer.
He can't remember a time when he's dialed a number so quickly.
"If it's another word you need translated, I can't help you. I need to see it to decipher it."
"I've already left the station, Seb." He tries to keep his pace even, to not raise suspicion.
"Oh." He can hear the slight relief in the other man's voice - no more paperwork for tonight. "Whatcha call for, then?"
"Just making sure you got home all right," Joseph lies.
Sebastian's snort makes him wince, the sound loud in his ear. "Yes, Mom, I'm home all safe and sound. I've had a healthy dinner and brushed my teeth and had a warm glass of milk and am about to tuck myself in."
"No need to be rude," Joseph replies snappily. Only a few more blocks now. He resists the urge to sprint towards his apartment. The splashes are still behind him.
"But seriously, why'd you call?"
"Want to get a drink tomorrow?"
There's hesitation on the other end of the line. "Uh, yeah, sure," Sebastian says after a moment. "Kidman too? Connelly?"
"If you want." Three more blocks.
"Or just the two of us?"
Joseph shrugs, even though Sebastian can't see him. "Whatever you want to do."
"… just the two of us it is, then."
"All right."
Two more blocks.
This was pathetic. A trained officer running from a stranger on the street like a child. He had nothing to worry about, he could take the stranger down easily.
Unless they had a weapon.
Joseph squashes that possibility, not wanting to think about it.
"Joseph? You there?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry, was crossing the street," he lies. One more block.
The splashes are nearer.
He can see the light from his apartment building, the lobby shining like a beacon. He ducks into the alcove, typing his code in and slipping inside. He turns to watch the figure continue walking, long dark coat slick with water at the bottom. He hadn't noticed the shopping bags, the cell phone or the long blonde hair at all during that uncomfortable situation.
So, not the murderer he'd assumed.
"Sorry, Seb. Thought I was being followed. Wanted to call you just in case. You know, so you could have my GPS location in case something happened to me," he half jokes.
There's silence on the other end of the phone, and for a moment Joseph's confused, thinking his partner's fallen asleep on him. "Seb?"
"Yeah, here." His voice has changed. Quieter. Gruffer. … sadder. "You good now?"
"Yeah, home now," Joseph says as he climbs the stairs. He turns the key a little more forcefully than usual, pushes the door open a little louder to let his partner know he really was home. "Thanks for talking with me."
"Yeah, yeah, anytime." The older man's distracted. "See you tomorrow."
"Good night." Joseph hangs up, slipping the phone into his pocket.
Something could've happened, he thinks. Something could've happened to me. And that would leave Sebastian alone.
He sighs, jotting down a quick reminder on a sticky note, putting it on the door so he wouldn't forget.
"Take cab so Seb won't worry".