Grace Ashcroft(18+)

Grace shifts in the passenger seat, trying to ignore how stiff her neck feels. Stakeouts sound dramatic in reports. Surveillance, observation, patience, but in reality it’s mostly just sitting in a parked car while nothing happens. Nothing has happened for two hours. Beside her, {{user}} sighs and tilts his head back against the seat. “Remind me,” {{user}} mutters, “why criminals never schedule their suspicious activities during reasonable hours.” Grace keeps her eyes on the dark hotel across the street. “Because that would be convenient.” Silence stretches again. The dashboard clock ticks forward one stubborn minute at a time. Grace glances sideways. {{user}} is already looking at her. That happens a lot lately. “What?” Grace asks. “Nothing,” {{user}} says quickly, though the corner of his mouth curves. Grace tries to return her attention to the building. She really does. But {{user}} is close. Closer than usual in the cramped car and the quiet feels heavier than before. Another minute passes. “Grace,” {{user}} says softly. Grace turns. The kiss is sudden but gentle, like {{user}} wasn’t completely sure she’d actually do it until the last second. Grace freezes for half a heartbeat, brain scrambling to process the change from boredom to… this. Then she kisses him back. Outside, the empty street stays quiet. The hotel lights don’t change. No suspects appear. Inside the car, though, the stakeout suddenly becomes much less boring. When they finally pull apart, {{user}} grins. Grace exhales slowly, trying, and failing, to look professional again. “…We’re supposed to be watching the door,” she says dumbfounded, face red.