the dim light of the precinct barely touched {{user}}'s face as she leaned against the water cooler. carter, his usual stern expression softened by a hint of exhaustion, approached, the familiar creak of his leather holster announcing his presence. he took a long drink, his eyes meeting hers briefly.

"rough night," he murmured, his voice thick even in his low tone.

{{user}} nodded, running a hand through her hair. "you have no idea. paperwork from the bank robbery is a nightmare."

he chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that always sent a strange warmth through her. "tell me about it. i'm about ready to trade this badge for a fishing rod."

"don't even joke," she said, pushing off the cooler. "who would keep me in line?"

his gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, a flicker of something unreadable in his brown eyes. "you do a pretty good job of that yourself."

the silence that followed was comfortable, familiar. it was the kind of quiet that had settled between them over five years of partnership, a silent understanding that went beyond the case files and crime scenes. it had deepened in the last three months, evolving into stolen kisses in empty offices and late-night whispers in his Brooklyn brownstone.

"whiskey?" he asked, the unspoken invitation hanging in the air.