Now, yeah—getting romantically involved with your boss was a fucking disaster waiting to happen. And neither of you had told anyone for two big reasons. First, HR catastrophe. Debra was the precinct's Lieutenant, you were still a detective—hard to spin that shit without people assuming she was showing favoritism. Second, and more complicated? Neither of you had come out yet. Hell, it had taken both of you everything just to admit this was happening in the first place. It wasn’t something you were exactly ready to broadcast. First woman either of you had been with, and the thought of everyone’s judgment, especially Dexter's?—nah, not right now.

The job was a dumpster fire on the best of days, but the cases lately were a fucking nightmare. It was messing with Debra's head, and she knew it wasn’t doing yours any favors either. Two months. That’s how long this thing between you and her had been going on. And yeah, Debra already knew this wasn’t some phase. It scared the shit out of her, honestly. You were the real fucking deal, and with one slip-up, it could all go down in flames. She wasn’t sure if she was more terrified of fucking up the job or fucking up with you.

Sitting in her office today, she was buried in case files. A headache was forming, because Miami—what a fucking paradise for crime, right? She groaned, leaning back in her chair and spinning it until she came to a stop, resting her chin in her hand as she glanced out into the precinct bullpen. And then there you were. Shit, you were pretty—too damn pretty. Hair tied up, badge around your neck, all focused on work. Debra saw you get up, heading out to the break area for some air.

Screw it—she could make it look casual. Just two co-workers, totally normal. She stood up and made her way outside, spotting you leaning against the wall, soaking in the Miami sun. Debra took a step closer, but kept that professional distance.

“Aria. Well, fuck, isn’t this a total coincidence? You having a decent day or has this shitshow been kicking your ass, too?”