Detectiveguapo3 - Rebecca

"We live in a country where people think vigilante justice is okay." No. We live in a country where vigilante justice is the only form of justice being served. We live in a country where vigilante justice is necessary. People's reactions aren't indicative of a moral decline amongst average citizens, they're indicative of a moral decline amongst the government.

Don't be surprised that the working class is taking things into their own hands until you understand how much they've suffered at the hands of those who are supposed to protect them.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy being like, "I am 100% committed to respecting your 'no', but I heard you wouldn't promise my aunt not to marry me so I had to come and check just one (1) more time."

My Bed Banter & Beyond, 1.15

Sir, that’s my emotional support unrealistic romantic delusion

come on americans, help a girl out

SCHOOL SPIRITS 2.06 "Ghost Pointe Blank"

Mark Darcy. that's it.

starting a campaign called "you should rewatch Pocahontas (1995) bc it actually isn't as problematic as you've been taught to think it is."

whatever (it's eating away at my soul)

Music To Write Boys To

Chapter 6: High Infidelity

Saturday, November 15, 2014

10:47 pm

You follow them into the ladies' room and drag Nick into a stall so you can listen. Just focus, I can’t afford to get distracted by Nick right now. Nick and the way his arms were on either side of me against the wall. Then, you hear the women talking.

“I heard from Stacy that someone sicced the police on Charlie.” One of the women says.

“Oh my! For what reason?”

“Apparently, he beats Diane.”

“He’s from down south, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“She always seems so happy and put together. I just don’t know what to make of it.”

“My hubby tells me that Charlie is one of them gun nuts. I don’t trust that kind of people. There are rumors that they argue plenty.”

“Couples argue all the time.”

“The help hears everything and they gossip. They hear him yelling and breaking things.”

You hear the stall door opening, you panic and turn to Nick. Crap I should’ve thought this through. “Kiss me.” You whisper to him, hoping he just goes along with it. He doesn't hesitate. You run your hands through his hair as he presses his body impossibly close to yours. You can taste the champagne on his tongue, you moan as he bites your lip. You start kissing his neck as you reach for his belt buckle.

“Is someone there?” The women ask.

You pull away from each other, flustered. 

You step out of the stall, speechless. Nick stands behind you, attempting to wipe the lipstick stains from his face but essentially making it worse. “I’m so sorry, I uh…” You stumble for an excuse. At least this looks realistic and awkward enough that they won’t ask questions.

“Oh.” They laugh. “Do you remember how it was when you first got engaged Anne? I could barely keep my clothes on.” 

The car ride back to the precinct is silent. “Well, that was a bust.” You announce breaking the tension.

Nick rubs his face, “What do we tell Benson?” You shrug.

“Can we talk about what happened?” Nick asks.

“In the bathroom? I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Do you regret it?”

“We just doing our job.” Terribly. We really fucked up. Casualty count? One. This partnership.

“And in the ballroom?” 

“We were acting the part.” But if we’re pointing fingers, YOU kissed ME!

“If you had to do it all over, would you do it again?”

You glare at him, “What?”

“It’s a simple question, would you kiss me like that again?”

“When would this ever happen again?”

“But if it did?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“Let’s just pretend it did.” Nick says exasperatedly.

“No.”

He glances over at you, “What about the other night?”

You fiddle with your necklace, “What about it?”

“Were we just ‘doing our job’ then?”

You cross your arms over your chest, “Nothing happened.” Was he checking me out? You drop your arms and sit up, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fine.” After a minute he mutters, “I think you would.”

You raise one eyebrow and he continues, “I think you would kiss me again.” You open your mouth to say something but decide against it, instead you stare out the window. 

After briefing Olivia together, Nick drove you home. He said nothing to you the entire time. Your thoughts were preoccupied with wishing this night never happened and wanting to jump out of the car to avoid the tension. You realize you’re still wearing the stupid ring as you enter your apartment. You take it off and slip it into your jacket. Nick’s jacket. Fuck I might as well clear a part of my closet for his clothes. You were so angry. You weren’t entirely sure if you were mad at yourself for being so stupid—or Nick Amaro, for being so stubborn. And for making me love him. UGH, I hate him. You didn’t. You take off your heels and start to walk towards the bathroom when you hear a knock at the door. Maybe he came to his senses and wanted to apologize. You unlock the door to see Chase. “Why do you have a phone if you don’t bother to pick it up?”

“I was working.” You state matter of factly.

“You never make time for me. You’re always too busy to watch me perform. I’m at your beck and call. I thought this time might be different.”

“I know this might be hard for you to grasp but my life doesn’t revolve around you. I’m a cop! I can’t just say, ‘no thanks, no crime for me today’. And what do you mean by ‘this time’?”

“I’m not even a part of your life. Do you want to be with me?”

No. I don’t know. “I just think maybe we’re moving too fast. What do you mean by ‘this time’?” 

He begins to pace,  “I’ve waited for years for you to be ready. When you joined the academy, we lost touch and I moved on. Then, you just texted me out of the blue. I thought maybe you were ready to grow up.”

Ouch. “I didn’t make you come over that night. I didn’t make you date me. I didn’t ask you to ‘wait’ for me. I’m all grown up, you’re the one throwing a fucking tantrum.” You’re so close to crying, tonight had been shitty enough without this bullshit.

“I just hoped you were done acting like a drunk slut. What are you running from?”

You were too stunned to reply so you try justifying yourself instead, “I’m not running from anything.”

“Maybe you’re running from yourself. Do you hate yourself that much?”

“Shut up.”

“Were you with him?” 

“What are you implying?”

He gets close to your face, “I”m gonna ask you this once, are you fucking him?”

“I don’t have to defend myself on something that didn’t happen.” Okay, so I bent the truth a little. You open your front door and tell him to get out. When he’s gone, you grab a bottle of vodka from the back of the cabinet. You turn the bathtub facet on and get in. You hate Chase and you want to hate Amaro. You feel confused and angry but underneath that, you just feel fucking empty. You couldn’t even force yourself to cry after all that happened so instead you take a swig from the bottle. What am I running from?