Street props himself up on one arm on the bed, taking in the room he has become so familiar with in the month since Chris has been back from TLI. By force of habit, his eyes sweep the room, noticing each detail that is uniquely her – the photo of Champ on the dresser, the framed note from her niece by the bed, the pile of sweaters spilling out of the duffel that's still half unpacked from Germany – when he hears her muffled voice from the bathroom.
Chris soon emerges, brandishing her toothbrush like a weapon.
Street's breath hitches slightly. She's only in an old, over-loved SWAT training tee, but he still isn't quite used to the fact that she lets him in to these quiet parts of herself. Moments when she's settled in her own skin, without all the smart retorts and choreographed sidesteps forcing distance between them when she needs to protect herself from his overwhelming sincerity.
Chris is pacing, oblivious to Street's eyes following her intently.
"I," she huffs. "I just."
"I mean apart from the fact that, hey, maybe I get a say in this too," her voice rises as she prods her toothbrush towards him as if to reiterate each point she makes. "I resent the suggestion that we somehow can't control ourselves…"
"Umm you might want to cool it with the toothbrush, cowboy. I know for a fact you could probably kill me with that thing" Street interrupts, smirking and raising his hands in mock defense.
Chris scowls, but returns the toothbrush to the bathroom.
"Besides, I'm sure Deac was just trying to be protective. He doesn't want to see you get hurt and I mean, we all know I have a real knack for screwing things up."
Although Chris has ditched the weapon, she has not abandoned her anger. Street sighs. She is royally pissed off.
He had thought long and hard about how to tell her about Deacon finding out about them. Judging by her reaction, he should have given it even more thought.
They had been very careful to keep this side of them well away from work – armed with some choice phrases from Chris, even Luca seemed almost convinced that Street had simply picked up a lot of late night Spanish classes as a way to keep busy post-surgery.
But the previous shift had been a long one. Street had been very lucky to escape with only a migraine and whopping bruise on his temple after a gun butt to the head, courtesy of the suspect they were chasing. The locker room emptied as the team trickled home and, once alone, Chris hadn't thought twice about reaching up to cup his face, tracing her fingers along the injury, her brows furrowed and her eyes dancing between his own and the bruise. Unbeknownst to them, Deacon had caught this brief moment.
Deacon's words played on rotation in Street's head.
"You need to seriously think about your next move. Because anything even remotely like what that looked like yesterday could seriously threaten the safety of the team and your careers".
Chris violently pulls back the covers and throws herself into bed, pulling Street back to the mildly terrifying reality of an irate Chris Alonso.
"I mean, I get that the brass have to enforce a no fraternising policy."
Chris throws her hands up and the words tumble out of her mouth breathlessly, tripping over one another. "But Street, for Deac to suggest that just because we're in love with each other we are now somehow incapable of doing our jobs effectively. We did completely fine, no, better than fine for years when he had no idea. I've worked too hard for this bullshit, for a teammate to question my abilities"
Street raises his eyebrows.
Chris takes a breath to steady herself and, her brain catching up to her mouth, slowly realises the words that have just escaped. She looks at Street quickly, wide-eyed, before staring down at her fingers desperately trying to find a way to withdraw into herself.
"Sorry, that was … umm. That was too much"
Street reaches out quickly and grabs her hand with a reassuring squeeze, interlacing their fingers.
"Hmmm. In love with you for years huh? Bit presumptuous" he says, a twinkle in his eyes.
Chris groans, pulling her knees towards her head.
"Hey, hey, Chris, I didn't say it wasn't true." Street's voice softens. "I have been obsessing over how to tell you. Little did I know I just had to work you into a fit of rage. Well your presumption is right … ok?"
Chris turns to him, laughs and gives him a small smile. "Ok".
Street, fast losing the ability to stay cool about the woman lying next to him, smiles like a giddy teen. He pulls her closer to him, her head resting on his chest. "So, word on the street is that you're suuuper into me" he says smugly. "Could you maybe say it again?" he whispers.
"Street, I'll say it again when you tell Luca that the only evening Spanish classes you're taking are from me." Chris turns her face upwards towards Street, laughing openly. For a moment they lock eyes, both wanting to freeze time for one uncomplicated moment, before she pulls him in and brings her lips to his.