God, I'm so weird.
Timeline: after afore-mentioned episode, because I can't remember what number it is. But with spoilers for basically the whole show.
Oblivious
—
He's watching her. Never intentionally of course, but he does it all the same.
They would just be driving, somewhere, anywhere, and he of course would be at the wheel, and she would be staring out into space and through the window at the same time, and his eyes would flicker over, at a red light or during a straight stretch, and—
He would wonder what she sees.
She would never catch him of course, he would never let her because he is a hunter first and—and…whatever else second
(funny, he had never wondered that before, if he had a whatever else)
and being such, he had enough pride—not to mention skill—to make sure that if he was watching something, that thing won't know he was. Even if that thing was right beside him, occasionally watching him too, but intent and dark, and never bothering to hide it, (whenever he saw this, he would flinch, even if it was just a little, even if she seemed never to notice) because, dammit, he was a hunter.
(he had to remind himself more and more as the days passed that he was)
A hunter that wasn't going to allow a little thin, scrawny kid get under his skin.
(he would admit occasionally to himself that she wasn't thin, or scrawny.)
(But he would never admit that she wasn't a kid. Because she was, even watching him with that gaze of hers, light and dark at the same time—)
Even though—this was something that he would never admit, even under torture even—
(even if she asked him)
—if the skies were to swallow him up—she did get under his skin.
—
Amon was acting weird.
She felt like leaning her head against the window, but decided against looking unprofessional, even to her partner, especially to her partner.
She was always on guard around him, always aware of every mistake, every slip, as she was with no one else, not Juliano, not the rest of the STN-J members.
She wasn't really sure why, beyond the fact that she knew he always caught those mistakes, however slight they may have been.
But as the time had worn on, though she was no less on guard, she began to relax, just a little, knowing somehow he would not…not—
(let her go)
lecture her if he caught her in one.
(it's called trust, Robin)
As the time had worn on, she began to watch her mistakes, not for the sake of his dark gaze on her during the hunts—the man seemed to see everywhere and nowhere at once, and she often found herself wondering how—even though that made her make mistakes more, but for her own sake.
As the time had worn on, she wanted less and less for this man to think badly of her.
But now he was acting weird.
Weird in a way that she didn't know how to describe, a kind of controlled wariness that he seemed to have around her.
But only when they were alone, and never on hunts, on hunts he trusted her, didn't question her.
He always seemed to be watching, though watching for something, or just in general she didn't know.
He offered to take her home more often now, and after that one time, he didn't complain of being a chauffeur.
She always went to him with problems, even if she never spoke of them, he seemed to be able to hear them.
But now he was acting weird.
Like he had something to hide.
Something from her.
She thought suddenly of seeing them in the rain, Amon and Touko walking together, close but not too close, and yet something hung around them, and feeling incredibly happy that they were together, two people she valued, happy, and somehow, incredibly sad at the same time, and she had felt something pricking at her eyes.
(It's called tears, Robin.)
She felt them lurking now.
—
"Let me just ask you one thing." Her voice had sounded so clearly in his ear he could almost imagine she was right beside him, asking him in person.
Instead of the little stab of pain he usually felt when he spoke to her, he just felt tiredness now, and he wondered why he was doing this. Why he had called her, now of all places.
"What?" he asked, because he was not particularly used to refusing her requests, and because he was curious.
There was a pause.
He had not meant to start…whatever they had had up again, not after Kate, and he was in and indulgent mood, and he like to be fair.
When her voice spoke next, it was just a whisper, sad and hopeful and laughing all at once. "Do you have feelings for her?"
He did not have to ask who "her" was, he and Touko had always understood each other, in the way that she did not cry (though they both knew she would, later, wondering why she was crying over him, the one man that her father had introduced to her that she had liked—really, really liked) when he had told her it was over, though she sounded like she might now, asking this question.
They lived together.
When they had first met, there was a girl who was scared of witches, of things that went bump in the night, but was not, surprisingly, scared of her father. There was a boy-man eager to prove himself but silent nonetheless, and liked his job a little too well, as his half-brother might have said.
When they parted now, there was a man who was hardened (or so he thought) to all the things the world saw fit to through at him, who had evolved from petty hatreds. There was a girl who was now a woman, and who did not cry over goodbyes, and who did not cry over anything, now.
He did not have to ask Touko who she was talking about.
He saw her coming towards him now, and his hand shook for just a second, just a split-second, indiscernible on the phone, and undetectable from the distance that she was at.
"No." he told her, perhaps a little too harshly, and from where she was sitting, Touko smiled a little, just a little, through the tears that fell down her face.
He hung up on her and rolled down his window, ready to hear what Robin had to say.
—
He found himself watching her again, and swore in his head.
He found himself wondering what she was thinking about, looking out the window, so serious and she relaxed at the same time.
He found himself unable to look away, sometimes.
They would never talk much, whenever he drove her somewhere, tense from the hunt, or just comfortable in the silence.
He just watched the emotions that flickered across her face, too fast and sudden that if he was not prone to watching her
(and he was)
he would not be able to catch them. They were mostly just hints of a smile, and wanted to ask her what was so funny.
(He had a feeling though, that he did, she either would want to tell him, or if she did, he would not understand. Something else that made him swear.)
sometimes, though, sadness would flash across her face, so sudden and so deep that he would be shocked.
He would feel like stopping the car, and doing anything to take that look off, up to and including smacking it off—when he realized this, he also realized just how desperate he was—and shaking her, demanding to know what made her feel that way. Because if he didn't, he would wonder forever, late at night, thinking about it,
(being just a tad too obsessive)
because, because—
(he silently suspected it had something to do with him)
that's what partners were supposed to do, at least in those sappy cop shows Sakaki was taken to watching—he often suspected the boy of wanting to be a hero, not that those things existed in STN, not that—
(not that he was like that particularily with his last partner)
—they seemed to exist anywhere these days.
Funny, he had never worried about how anyone was feeling before.
He is watching her, wondering what she would say if he told her suddenly that he had a brother. Moreover, a normal brother, part lawyer, and part…something else.
(investigative detective? But that would be giving the bastard just a bit too much credit than he deserved. Amon supposed he didn't like his brother much.)
something else that involved a communications network as widespread and accurate as most phone company's and was taken to working against him, even though they were part-family.
Perhaps not-so normal a brother.
But he is wondering what she would say. He is wondering about her reaction.
He finds himself wanting to tell her many things.
—
She is wondering what she should say to Touko.
She was never really good at those things, and still isn't.
(Hoping she won't have to say anything. It's called hope Robin. Hope and understanding.)
but there is no way the woman won't be able to recognize Amon's car idling outside, not leaving until she is in the door.
Just as there's no way he would come up with her.
She isn't really sure how she knows, this, but the tension around him that gathers whenever they neared her apartment spoke for itself.
She thinks of the look she sometimes catches in Touko's eyes, but only when they rest on her. The look of tension and sadness, and she wonders if the woman will cry.
She knows—even though she's just a girl, or perhaps it's because she's no longer a girl—that she is seeing Amon standing there instead of herself.
She wants to say, "I did not do anything," but doesn't.
Because even though she is not good in situations like this, she still knows enough not to say that.
And because she is not so sure she didn't.
She wonders why mostly. Why he was so silent and…angry wasn't the right word, but it was as close as she got.
(Hard, and still and dark)
"I think," she wanted to say, "Touko still loves you." But she doesn't of course, because she's not stupid.
(She's a little bit scared of how he would react if she did say it, not because she thinks he will hurt her—because he never would…how did she grow to trust him like this? —but because she knows he no longer loves her)
She wonders at the pain she feels whenever she thinks of the two of them together.
"Amon." She says softly.
He glances over, still intent in his driving, and says nothing.
"Why have you been so weird?" rests on the tip of her tongue.
She clenches her fist.
She lets the silence run on, and he does not ask her why she did not finish her statement.
She lets the silence run on.
(Companionship, and something…something else)
—
He is always watching her now, but it's ok, because she will never notice and he will never be caught.
No. he had said, but he was never above lying about his feelings.
He sometimes wished it were true, but he knew it wasn't.
—
"Thank you." She whispers into the silence, her voice even softer than before.
He does not say anything, and he does not need to.
Because they were just like that.
end
Later on, he would find that he missed the drives the most.