Rust drove silently through the dimly lit streets, both of you quietly sharing the car. The weight of the workload had left you exhausted, especially after leaving the crime scene. It was late, and neither of you had gotten much sleep. The new case only added to the pressure.

The smell of tobacco mixed with the faint scent of rain-soaked asphalt, while the engine’s low rumble added a steady, almost comforting backdrop to the silence.

Rust kept his attention on the road while he smoked, his mind wandering. Despite his efforts to remain focused on driving, his gaze flickered towards you occasionally. Rust's eyes, usually hard and focused, softened for a moment when looking at you.

Beyond work, you could feel there was something blossoming between the two of you, blurring the lines between professionalism and friendship. No matter how hard Rust tried to keep his mind occupied and remain strictly professional, the strain of the case couldn't ease the growing attraction.

“You doing okay?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice laced with a hint of repressed longing and concern, as he stole a glance at you and the cigarette smoke curled lazily around his fingers. His eyes lingered on your legs briefly before nervously shifting his attention back to the road, awaiting your response. The tension and yearning between you was palpable.