Chapter Text
Robin awoke the morning after her birthday feeling refreshed and alert, despite the fact that she had not slept much the night before. The memory of kissing Strike, first outside the Tube, and later, outside her front door, left a thrill from her head to her toes whenever she remembered it. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, and when she opened her eyes a little after dawn, she rose immediately out of bed, despite the early hour.
They were expecting a new client before lunch, but otherwise, there was no surveillance on her agenda. She and Strike had planned to finalize some of the training and orientation for their new subcontractor, Michelle. The prospect of spending an entire day sequestered inside the tiny inner office with Strike made Robin’s heart buzz. But despite the declarations of the night before, a small part of her wondered if she would feel embarrassed and awkward, and how things would seem in the light of day, wearing her sensible work trousers and a blouse instead of her blue dress and new opal necklace. She sprayed her new perfume on her throat and wrists, and felt her confidence and assurance return.
Robin arrived at the office an hour earlier than usual. She wanted to be there before Pat, because she was carrying her outfit for the birthday dinner later that evening, as well as a carry-all bag with assorted toiletries. In truth, there was plenty of time for her to leave work, go home and change before the dinner party started, but she harbored a hope that Strike might be open to other plans. And in case he wasn’t, she had an excuse ready. She hung her dress on the coat rack in the inner office, stashed her bag in the corner behind her chair, and logged on to her computer, staring at the training manual she had begun to develop several weeks earlier, when she and Strike had agreed that it might be a good idea to ensure that all of the subcontractors started with the same basic understanding and knowledge of their business policies and practices. The document was open on her screen, but the letters blurred together as Robin’s mind wandered.
They had parted the night before, full of implied promises and declarations. Although she knew it was old-fashioned, she hadn’t been ready to invite Strike inside last night. She knew Max was home, and she did not want anyone else to witness their new relationship just yet. And she wanted a day, more than a few moments, to cherish the memories of those first kisses. The thrill of it all was like a drug, it energized her and made her feel like she was floating, and she wanted to hold onto that feeling just a while longer. A small part of her wanted to give them both time to think things over - one last chance at escape. So they had parted after several minutes of increasingly passionate kisses, and Robin hoped that her final “See you tomorrow” had conveyed everything she had meant to communicate.
Soon she heard noises in the flat above her head, and she grinned, wondering what Strike was doing, and how he’d slept, and she felt a jolt of happiness and panic at the thought he would be downstairs soon. It sounded as though he was hopping or using a crutch, and her face grew warm thinking about witnessing him in such a state of vulnerability. She listened - the sound of a toilet flushing, the rush of water running through the pipes, the uneven clunking noise across the flat upstairs. There was a moment of silence, and then her phone dinged. Looking down, she saw a message from Strike.
Good morning Cx
Robin smiled. He had texted her first thing, which definitely pleased her.
It is. Rx she texted back.
On your way in? Cx
I’m downstairs :)
Her phone rang. “What are you doing here so early?” Strike asked. There was an odd echo effect - she could hear the timbre of his voice from above, as she heard the words through the phone.
“Just woke up and didn’t see any point in hanging around at home,” Robin said.
“Is everything okay?” Strike asked. There was a tentative note in his voice. Robin’s heart melted a little. “Absolutely,” she said. “Just in a good mood.”
Strike let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Well, early bird, did you eat anything yet?”
Robin said that she had not, and Strike suggested they go out for a quick bite before starting work for the day. He hung up to take a quick shower and get dressed - Robin immediately realized that he may not have been dressed when they spoke, and felt another thrill.
Ten minutes later, Robin heard Strike’s footsteps on the stairs. She had a moment of confusion - should she greet him at the door? Act “normally”? Normally she would sit at her desk and say hello on those occasions when she arrived before he did. But they were going out to eat, so she might as well stand up. She heard Strike fumbling with his keys - she had locked the door since the office wasn’t officially open yet, and that gave Robin an excuse to stand up and meet him there. She unlocked and opened the door just as he was preparing to put his key in the lock, and then they both stood on the threshold, goofy smiles on each of their faces.
Robin laughed a little, unsure of what to do next. Strike looked… adorable. She had thought of him as many things, but adorable was a new sensation. She felt a twinge of arousal and looked away for a moment. When she looked back at Strike, the fire in his eyes took her breath away. She slid an arm around his waist and pulled him close, and he immediately took a step closer, leaning forward to kiss her softly on the lips. A moment later, Strike was walking her backward into the office, still kissing her, his hands now roaming up and down her back, one hand eventually wrapping into her hair, the other traveling down below her waist. She felt the back of her knees hit the arm of the fake leather sofa, and almost lost her balance. Strike pulled away, still holding her tightly. They were both a little out of breath.
“Christ, Robin,” gasped Strike. “How are we ever going to get any work done?”
“Oh,” said Robin, trying to catch her breath. “I imagine that it will be easy with Pat as a chaperone.”
He laughed. Robin took a deep breath. She thought, for a moment, of suggesting they climb the stairs to his flat immediately, but it was already almost half past eight, and she remembered how easily she’d been able to hear Strike moving around upstairs. So she said, instead, “We should probably try to get some breakfast.”
Strike nuzzled her neck for a moment, and inhaled deeply. “You’re wearing your new perfume,” he murmured. Robin’s knees weakened. But she was able to recover, and, slowly extricating herself from Strike’s embrace, she grabbed her handbag and ushered him out the door.