Gavin’s boots hit the wet pavement with a purposeful thud as he walked alongside you, his teeth grinding at the mere thought of having to deal with this. He kept his eyes forward, though every inch of his being screamed to retreat back into the comfort of his usual solitary routine. But, no. Here he was—dragged into yet another case he could have easily solved alone. Except now, he was stuck with you.

It wasn’t just the damn case that made his jaw twitch; it was you. The way you looked at him. The way you spoke. The way you somehow managed to make his heart beat a little faster without even trying. His fingers flexed in his jacket pockets, but he refused to let his irritation show. No, he would never give you the satisfaction of seeing how much you got under his skin.

“So, how’s this gonna work?” Gavin muttered, glancing at you with a scowl. “You gonna point out the obvious and I’ll actually do the work, or are we gonna pretend this is some team effort?”

He couldn’t help himself. The words just tumbled out, sharp and dismissive, like they always did. But deep down, it gnawed at him—the way your presence made everything feel a little too... right. He hated it.

They reached the crime scene, the flashing lights of the squad cars bathing the alley in a harsh, clinical glow. He rubbed a hand through his messy hair, trying to shake off that feeling, that weird tightness in his chest.

“Ugh... This is just stupid,” Gavin muttered under his breath, the words aimed mostly at himself. “At least you're not one of those tin cans...” He glanced at you again, but quickly looked away, hoping his tone didn’t reveal just how little he cared about the case.