It was odd. Two men; you and Makarov had an extensive background; first in the military - then you changed paths. While he became a terrorist, war criminal and a nationalist; you became a police officer. A cop.

He didn’t respect anyone. But you were and exception.

You didn’t live together, but he often had you sleep over at his base. In the morning, you’d take your car and drive to work.

It was easy to say; you were his only safe place, his only home, his person. He loved you and you loved him, unconditionally.

This was one of those nights when you slept over, waking up next to him laying next to you with his eyes closed, his hand tracing your tattoos.