It was early and Karina probably could have slept for longer, but that had never stopped her from getting work done before and she was not about to let it stop her now. So there she sat at her desk, sleep in her eyes and miscellaneous files in her hands, quietly doing work. It was familiar. It was mundane, and it was mindless enough that Karina’s mind could wander. And so it did. Her thoughts drifted absently to Winter. To Winter in the cot, face soft and relaxed, deep brown curls cascading serenely into her eyes. To Winter illuminated in the harsh white of the fluorescents as she told Giselle she was going to stay, to Winter’s spluttering indignation as Karina told her she wasn’t a hydration person, to Winter—

To Winter standing in front of her, face slightly pink from sleep, Karina assumed, looking at her in bemusement. “Unnie?”

“Hm?”

“Is that my sweater?”

Karina blinked up at her, confused. “Is...what?” And then she looked down and felt her face turn red hot. There, hanging loosely off her frame, was a sweater. 

A very familiar sweater. 

All at once, Karina became aware of it flooding her senses, the softness of the fabric, the worn, pale blue yarn, the distinct smell of cinnamon. At least she had an explanation for why she’d been thinking about Winter. It was impossible not to in the damn thing. 

“Oh. Um, yes, I suppose it...is. Sorry, I didn’t realize. I must have put it on without thinking. Here, give me a moment, I’ll give it back.” Karina’s hands fumbled to the hem of the sweater, finding it just above the middle of her thigh.

Winter glanced at her feet and turned even pinker. “No unnie, it’s alright.”

“What?”

“It’s alright." Winter met Karina’s eyes, and Karina recognized the earnestness in them. Not that it was hard to find earnestness looking at Winter. “Keep it on. God knows I have enough sweaters.”

Karina slowly, cautiously released the sweater’s hem. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, unnie.” Winter smiled trepidatiously. “It suits you.” 

“Oh. Right. Thank you.” She looked down at the box of papers and an awkward quiet settled over the pair, neither of them looking at the other. In the silence Karina found herself rubbing the edge of the sleeve almost absentmindedly.

“Anyway, that’s not what I came here to talk to you about,” Winter managed after a beat.

“No, of course not.” Karina looked up at her, letting the edge of the sweater sleeve drop. “What is it?”

“Why do we have a cot in the back of the Pigeon?”

“Well, we don’t,” Karina corrected. “I do. It’s for when I work late.”

The look on Winter’s face was one of mingled horror and concern. “Are you serious? Unnie, have you been sleeping at the Pigeon?”

There was a loud ker-chunk! as the door to the Pigeon closed and slotted itself back into place. Footsteps, heavy and sure, approached the two of them, and there was Giselle, brow furrowed. 

“Karina, you better not be sleeping in the Pigeon again,” she said, arms and expression cross.

The horror on Winter’s face intensified. “Again?”

“Karina!” Giselle dropped her bag on Ningning’s desk and gave Karina an exasperated look. 

“What?”

Giselle pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Tell me you didn’t spend another night on that ing cot, Karina.”

“Technically,” said Karina. “Winter was on the cot.”

“Oh, so you’ve roped Winter into your little workaholic sleepovers, then?”

Karina threw her hands up defensively. “It got late! I can’t control time, or when the buses stop running.”

“But you can control when you stop working and go home, Karina.” Giselle sighed and rubbed her eyes, displacing her massive, round glasses in the process. “Whatever, did you get any farther in the case at least? Get anything out of your little night in?”

“Not really, no,” admitted Karina sheepishly.

Giselle shook her head, fury melting gently into annoyance. “Ridiculous. You two are ridiculous.”

“Don’t blame Winter,” Karina argued, feeling an odd stab of protectiveness for her...for her partner. “She didn’t do anything.”

“She’s an enabler. You,” said Giselle, pointing at Winter. “Are an enabler.”

“I didn’t know this was something she made a habit of!” Winter exclaimed.

“What’s Karina made a habit of?” The Pigeon’s door made another sound of clicking metal as Ningning entered the room, lopsided grin glinting mischievously in the fluorescent light. “Is it a fun habit or a sad habit?”

“Sad habit,” said Giselle. “Karina’s sleeping in the Pigeon again. With Winter too, this time.”

“Karina and Winter sleeping together in the Pigeon?” laughed Ningning, flopping down onto her (Karina’s) chair with a bounce. Her gaze flicked over to Karina, still bundled in Winter’s warm blue sweater and her grin widened. “Oh. Apparently so. Good for you two!”

In an instant, Winter turned beet red. “What? I—no!”

“That’s not what happened at all—”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, really unnies,” said Ningning with a supportive wink. Could winks be supportive? They could from Ningning, whose smile and arms were spread wide. “No judgment here.”

Karina’s face felt hot, and suddenly she was burning up in the sweater. “That’s not what this—”

“—just a simple misunderstanding, not—”

“—God, I wouldn’t, that’s not—I—” Karina ventured a glance at Winter, who she had been working very hard to not make eye contact with through their cacophony of stammered denials. What shade of red was Winter’s face? She almost seemed to be glowing, or at least the patches of her face Karina could see were as Winter had placed her hands to her face as if that made it so the rest of them couldn’t see her. The sight of it gave Karina a sudden pang of emotion, though she wasn’t sure which one. In her own blustered denials, she hadn’t even thought about Winter doing the same by her side. Christ, she could only imagine what it must be like for her to have Ningning insinuate that she had done... that with Karina of all people. Karina, who worked too much, slept too little and spent her few moments of interaction with people snapping at them. No wonder she was so red.

“Honestly, I’m proud of you both,” continued Ningning, unperturbed by Karina and Winter’s objections. “You’ve collectively got the assertiveness of a paperclip.”

“Ningning, that’s not...I don’t,” said Karina, rather louder than she’d meant to. She felt the heat of her co-workers' gazes on her, thick and heavy like marsh air.

Ningning blinked. “Oh.”

“With anyone,” she continued, glancing at Winter again. “It’s just not something I do.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize unnie.” Ningning’s smile was gone in an instant and she ran a hand through her fine black hair.

“It’s fine,” urged Karina.

“It’s not, though.” Ningning looked apologetic and angry at herself all at once. Anger didn’t seem to fit Ningning’s face, not real anger at least. It seemed wrong and unfamiliar, like a shirt that was too tight. “That was ty of me.”

“Ningning, it’s alright.” Karina sighed and readjusted her glasses, mostly so she had an excuse to do something with her hands. “I don’t tout it, but it’s not like I try to hide my auality either. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to give Winter her sweater back.” Karina could feel their eyes follow her as she made her way to the alcove with the cot. She had shirts there along with full sets of clothes so Giselle wouldn’t notice her sleeping arrangements. She’d have to move the cot again. That was a shame. Karina had been rather proud of the cubbyhole she’d found, hidden away from the desks but still close enough that she didn’t feel lost in the labyrinthian hell that was the deep Pigeon. 

She thought about what Winter had said last night, about getting rid of the cot. It was something to think about, at least. Something other than the look on Winter’s face at the thought of being with her, even if it was in the, uh, biblical sense. It hurt a little bit. It shouldn’t because it was Winter and it was in that way, but it did. Karina pulled off Winter’s sweater somewhat reluctantly. Sure it fit her like a tent, but it had been warm and soft and it had smelled like Winter, which wasn’t something she cared about, just something nice. Winter smelled nice. Karina let go of the button she’d been doing up and rubbed her eyes. She really did need more sleep if she was thinking about how Winter smelled. 

Karina made her way back to their office and found it just as silent and tense as she had left them. It was clear no one has spoken since she left. Wordlessly, Karina handed Winter’s sweater back to her, who held it limply. 

Karina uncomfortably cleared and looked at Ningning. “Did you get the file back yet?”

“I...no,” sighed Ningning, who Karina noticed was now sitting at the awful green chair and not in Karina’s. “They changed who’s at the front desk at the precinct, and so now it’s this delightful old woman. And she’s lovely, and I’ve got loads of gossip about the police force now if any of you are interested, but she’s both married and competent so I don’t think we’re going to be getting the file the usual way.”

“How are we going to get it, then?” Giselle asked, looking at her subordinates, waiting for suggestions like she was a grades teacher waiting for someone to call out the right answer so they could move on to the next part of the lesson.

“We could always ask for it back,” suggested Winter somewhat sheepishly. “Through the normal channels.”

“It’s police evidence,” pointed Karina, letting herself sit down again and feeling the familiar bounce of her (her!) chair under her. “I don’t think they just give that to random civilians.”

“We’re not ‘random civilians,’” Winter said, pitching her voice lower and accentuating her accent in what was probably supposed to be an imitation of Karina. “It’s ours.”

Karina decided to ignore the impersonation. “It was until we gave it to the police.”

“Whose fault was that unnie?”

“What was I supposed to do, withhold evidence from the police?"

“You both make solid points,” interrupted Giselle wearily. “Though solid points don’t get us our file back.” The room fell into a far more comfortable contemplative silence.

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