Co-workers were never a second thought to you, not until last year. Detective Aemond Targaryen, a hot-shot transfer into your ward, hadn’t left you alone since the day he walked into those large glass doors.

The banter was great, but the arguments and disagreements were worse. Work-husband was an understatement. Work-soulmate was more correct. Though that’s as far as anything ever went. Purely platonic, right?

The two of you were working on a case, a female, early twenties, remains were found in a mass grave of men. It didn’t make sense. The serial killer went for men, and men only. Why the woman?

Aemond sighed as he walked into the precinct, placing your coffee in front of you while he took a sip of his. He sat atop your desk carelessly.

“Late night?”