A/N: Heads up, there's a steamy scene halfway into the chapter. Feedback is very much appreciated!

Spencer had been glad Julie called in sick for him, which meant he didn’t have anything to do besides freshening up before heading down to the police station.

His mind was racing with all sorts of horrible scenarios on what Izzy could've ended up getting wrapped up in. Upon arrival, he moved in haste up the stone steps of the precinct and within pushing the glass door, he zeroed in on the distinct mane of ebony matched with that steel gaze sat by a desk. Across from her was an older man in blue uniform and sporting salt and pepper hair working away at a computer.

Izzy noticed him first and Spencer immediately walked on over. The officer stood from his chair, extending his hand for a firm handshake and in greeting, Spencer recognised him as the officer on the phone.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Hull. I called you down here because I had pulled over this young lady.” He gestured to Izzy who served him a scowl. “Who had the license plate on her car barely attached to the rear. On further questioning, I came to discover she was not the registered owner of the vehicle and wanted to verify her statement that it was loaned to her willingly.”

“Yeah, I did,” Spencer said.

Officer Burke regarded him with an off-beat pause, crowfeet eyes peering to Izzy then back to him. “And your relationship?”

“She’s my friend.” An edged carved out of Spencer’s tone as he imposed every inch he had over the man, sternly crossing his arms with his short sleeves exposing the bulk of inking over his veins and muscles. “Is there a law against loaning out my stuff to my friends?”

It didn’t go unnoticed as the officer plastered on a tight-lipped smile. “Of course not. That’s very kind of you, son.” Spencer refrained from frowning at being called son in a patronising tone. “You and your lady friend are free to go once I see proof of the vehicle registration I asked on the phone— for the report.”

“Sure thing.”

Spencer brought out the documents and the officers didn’t waste much time to confirm the credentials, the soon enough, the keys were forked over and he headed out of the station with Izzy following suit.

“You okay?” Spencer hastily asked. “I’m really sorry about that guy. When he answered your phone, I literally freaked out— then to come out to hear it was over something like that?” He shook his head. “I guess I'm partly at fault for the plate but still, threatening you with a citation is fucking ridiculous.”

Izzy merely shrugged. He knew she was nonchalant in general but this was something else.

“Just a shrug? Really?”

It earned him a pointed look before she sighed. “Technically, he only threatened that after I was… being non-cooperative. So, kind of brought that on myself.”

Spencer thought to pry further on what 'non-cooperative' entailed exactly but his imagination of Izzy mouthing off to that asshat policeman was vivid enough. “Still, he seemed unnecessarily hostile.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she insisted. The that in question hovered over them but neither made an attempt to outright say it. “Besides, intimidating him for could've easily made the situation worse.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t doing anything,” Spencer lied. “Other than vouching for you.”

“Well, you could work on that, too.”

“What?”

“You had to go and say we were friends.”

“Because we are.” Spencer paused. “Aren’t we?” The distant gaze he met didn’t sit well in his stomach. “Okay, maybe we're not to you but what was I supposed to say? Fuck buddies?”

“No, Spencer. But obviously if he sees you and then me, he could get it into his head that you’re that kind of friend. Y'know, who I buy a pound of Coke off on occasions.”

Spencer scoffed, incredulous. “Oh come on, Izzy.”

“Have you met you? With your pick up truck and tattoos of centipede skeletons and shit?”

“Actually, it’s snake.” The second he corrected her, he regretted it. “Alright, I see your point but a whole pound of Coke? Sounds like I'd be a terrible drug dealer.”

Izzy rolled her eyes and it was just one brief second. One daunting moment he swore that her lips twitched to form a smile and his heartbeat sped up. “Whatever, let’s just go please. I really don’t like cops.”

He offered her a sympathetic look. “And I don’t blame you.”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, because I was raised by one. It wasn’t always the best experience.”

Spencer slowly blinked. “Your dad’s a cop?” She nodded. A short pause fell. “… Y'know what, that actually explains so much.”

Izzy cocked her head. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I knew a guy in high school who's dad was a policeman. Man was an absolute dictator, strict, quickly suspicious of people’s intentions and expected them to do what he said but he never had to listen to others. No surprise his son grew up to be just like him…” He was too late on stopping himself at observing Izzy’s darkened look.

Spencer wore a nervous smile. “And you’re completely different from that. Ironic, really.”

Izzy held his stare for several seconds, beads of sweat beginning to expand across Spencer’s forehead as he tried not to so much as blink. Then she relented, stomping off the parking lane, much to Spencer’s surprise. He was all prepared to get a slap for speaking like that.

Slightly wary, he picked up his steps to reach her at the truck and said nothing when she climbed into the driver’s seat. He assumed she’d gotten pulled over on the way to class but regardless, she’d be adamant on getting behind the wheel and he secretly liked her claiming his chair as her own.

“Thanks,” she suddenly said. He looked at her quizzically but her eyes stayed straight ahead as she turned on the engine. “For coming. I can drop you off at Sip It first.”

“That’s okay. I'm taking the day off.”

Those dark eyes instantly looked up at him. “Why? Something wrong?”

“No. I was just kind of exhausted from last night.”

At that, something shifted in Izzy’s otherwise impassive visage and she faced the road once more. Seemed like maybe the events last night was on her mind, too. In fact, here was an opportunity to ask and get some clarity on that kiss. He opened his mouth, but the words weren’t coming out.

Because what if he was right and it really was out of pity? Spencer didn’t want that. He didn’t want to hear that.

It sounded more unbearable than admitting the reason as to why. “Can you come over after class?” He asked. “I promise to call if anything happens this time.”

Izzy easily nodded.

“… Could you wear that dress from the other time, too? With the open back.” Her eyes found his again. “Forget it, nevermind—”

“I'll wear it. Calm down, Spencer. God, you really would make a shitty drug dealer.”

He bit back a coy smile. His eyes lowered to her pursed lips, the memory of them on his alone caused his head to grow light and the heat tighten beneath the belt in anticipation. His crush on Izzy Montego was getting out of hand. It was pathetic— he was pathetic and spiralling. But, he couldn’t stop.

**

Just as promised, Izzy appeared at his door wearing that stunning grey dress beneath a coat and this time round, he saved mentioning the meal for later. He helped Izzy out of her coat and let himself marvel at every inch of her, clad in what he had asked. He'd never been in a position to impose power just on a whim rather than to meet a need. Contrarily, as he closed the gap seperating their lips and shaped out her ass with one hand, he felt he'd sated years worth of unfurled frustration and cravings.

She seized his wrist to pull him towards the couch. With his mind still reeling from the make-out, it took a second to grasp when she said, "Sit."

He gradually sat himself by the cushions, observing her kick off her shoes and proceed to pull her panties out from under her legs. Somehow,  that motion made him throb. Then her arms crossed over her chest. "Well, get undressed. What are you waiting for?"

"Oh, right." He reached for his zip, then recalled the condoms were at his sock drawer. He practically sprinted into the bedroom, tossing out socks in hot pursuit of the pack and hastily returned to Izzy who leisurely sat on the armrest. In just her undies.

A sight Spencer never knew he wanted until now.

He started to unzip but clearly, he was taking too long as Izzy was tugging him back on the couch and loosening his belt herself.

As much as Spencer deemed her a dictator and all, he'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on.

He put the condom on and Izzy moved swiftly to slide on top of him, her bare ass snuggled on his lap and his cock was already pulsating as it was clenched inside her, drawing out a sensual, airy breath from her lips while he moaned and held her by the small of her back. Her eyes stayed intently trained on him which always made him nervous, but heavily aroused at the same time. Even though the covering, he could feel the wetness as he filled her, hinting he wasn't the only one anticipating this.
It was like the world fell under a rose tinted lens, all obscurities whisked as his cocktail of emotions melted in her presence.

He abandoned wondering what went through her head during the motions as he'd hold her face and kiss her rough and heatedly, his hips working on primal instinct to her own rocking against him. He stopped worrying if all the sounds she made were for show or some form of habit once wet smacking would echo in his ears to purge it out as she fervently rode him.

Izzy could hide in her words but she became bare as her body was to him in these moments, which were as intimate as he knew he'd ever get to her. And he would wear it out for as long as possible.

Once he came, she slid off, hot and breathless, bur Spencer wasn't ready to let it go.

He lifted her in his arms, feeling her almost instantly lean into the touch and carried her over to the bed, running kisses along her neck, her perked breasts, hips and once reaching her thighs, he lingered.

A spark of recognition was caught on Izzy's eyes and she parted her legs like an offering. No, a reward. That was what marked her powerful stare as she lightly stroked a hand down his sideburns and jaw. He was only doing as he'd earned and she was ever so ceremoniously granting it.

Fuck, she knew just how to get to him. Spencer dipped his head into that moist, heat between her thighs and reverently took what was his, slick and fast like his life had been purposed for this very moment.

**

Every corner of his dingy bedroom suddenly seemed a bit brighter and warmer as he aimlessly stared up, sprawled out and dazed in the heat of post-sex.

Izzy, who'd been pressed against him gradually sat up straight, ripping away the lulling warmth as his eyes strayed to her back turned, absentmindedly staring at the knick- knacks in his room.

“Where’s your closet?” She suddenly asked.

“Hmm? I don’t have one.”

Izzy served him a stare that was downright bemused. “Where do you put your clothes then?”

“In there.” He nodded to the box by his bedframe.

“Your sock drawer?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a drawer. I don’t have money to spend on luxuries like a wardrobe— who needs more than two pairs of socks anyway?”

Her gaze visibly widened. “Spencer, be real. There is no fucking way you only have two pairs of socks.”

Spencer casually pushed off the sheets, throwing his boxers back before he went over to the drawers and pulled each one wide open to prove it. Maybe he'd be more ashamed about his severe lack of amenities but witnessing Izzy look anything other than nonchalant for once was a refreshing change. The fact she'd only put on her bra and undies after cleaning up a bit was a nice touch, too.

“Jesus.” She breathed out, shaking her head. “I knew this apartment was small but, this whole time I thought you'd be all strapped with cash like Beck.”

Spencer hadn’t taken that into consideration, since after moving here, Beck only socialiased as an agenda so relatively only a few knew he was loaded but definitely not to what extent. After vacationing at Beck's family lodge together, he could see how that could be misconstrued. “Well, my family was better off before but even back then, it didn’t come close to Beck’s folks. His two older brothers got kicked out of their fancy boarding school so their parents decided to enroll them in a public one. They kept to it, so they believed there were better influences there and had Beck follow.”

It was truly a conclusion that came from being blind sighted was what Spencer later on realised. The boarding school wasn’t the problem, it was them. They only chose to be more careful with the trouble they started off for fear they'd be shipped off to military school. “I remember how much Beck hated me at the start. I mean, he hated everybody there for being lowly peasants and everything but he only had his brothers to stick around and they just clicked with me. And the fact I gave them free access to the boats at my dad’s rental store.”

“So Beck was jealous,” Izzy derived.

“I guess. But soon enough, he made his own friends and even said he felt bad for me later on.”

That earned him a scoff. “Little shit.”

“Yeah, not so cute anymore.” Spencer sighed. “It was mostly confusing for me at the time. I don’t have siblings so it was hard to understand what I was doing wrong.”

“Your problem is assuming that you’re always in the wrong, Spencer. People can just be shit without it being your fault.” The words struck him deeply, but it was the sudden brush of her fingers against his cheek that had him tongue-tied.

Almost as if only realising what she was doing in that moment, Izzy briskly her hand away.

Something about this all felt off. Izzy was never this chatty, never lingered around after fulfilling her end of the exchange either.

“But closet or not, you have two jobs. There’s no reason you only own two pairs of socks,” she pressed.

“True, but it’s all I need.” If this was getting to her, he couldn’t imagine how she'd take knowing he hadn’t updated his clothes in nearly three years. That one was more primarily on the fact he'd let himself become the object of affection to a certain old friend who made a means to send Spencer clothes every so often.

It was unfortunately later than sooner, Spencer realised accepting gifts from someone he was never going to give his heart to was doing more harm than he thought.

“Thanks for the cough medicine, by the way,” he said. “It was… I appreciate it.” And it one of the nicest things anybody’s ever given me. It made me happy you got worried over me. I wanted to hug you, to kiss you.

So many things raced through his mind without an ounce of courage to utter them out. Not when he was barely hanging on from exposing how bad he had it for her. Though, with how much he'd said and done, he suspected Izzy must’ve had some idea.

But why keep quiet? Was she really so cold? So eager for a free mode of transportation? Or was his wishful thinking not so wishful?

Spencer decided to make a bet with himself. If he touched her and she didn’t pull away, then he'd brave up and ask about the kiss the other night.

“It’s no problem,” Izzy said. “Wouldn’t want to be getting into it and then you suddenly cough out a lung on top of me, y'know.”

The crude remark spiked just enough confidence in him to reach out a hand forward. Izzy’s expression immediately shifted, eyes hyper focused on its ascension towards her. She didn’t flinch or make any signs of repulsion so he curled his fingers around her waist and with only a little pull, Izzy leaned in to let their lips meet.

It'd only meant to be a brush, but he found himself overcome with vigor and swept in her zealous pull at his hair. Blindly, they fumbled back to the bed and he rubbed his hands down her side, tracing the hemline of her panties and she was quick on the hint, voluntarily lifting her ass up from the sheets to get them past her thighs and let him slip two eager fingers inside her.

This wasn’t following the pattern of the exchange, normally they only went once but Izzy was obediently going along with Spencer’s urges. Past the sensual noise of her vocal appreciation, it frightened him a little how much power she gave him.

It'd taken twice as long to clean up and get dressed, that the hours were clocking into his scheduled shift at Vulcan. Yet, Spencer was tempted to call in sick if it meant staying wrapped up in this bliss.

Izzy was in his kitchen, having him show her how he made his chutney. Which was a process he'd done enough to go through each step blind folded but everything took twice as much concentration with the presence of eyes over him.

It wasn’t exactly a complicated recipe anyway. Once all the ingredients, besides the garlic and sugar were thrown in, there was just boiling and some stirring. Izzy seemed very engrossed in calmly watching him move a wooden spoon around a bubbling saucepan.

“Is everything alright?” Spencer had let it slip only because apparently, having something too good couldn’t last.

Izzy didn’t seem annoyed by the question as her eyes peered up at him. “You prefer making coffee or tattoos?”

“What…?” The suddenness of the question had him puzzled for a moment, then he recoiled to think. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Her arrogance was quite similar to Beck's but rather than stifling, her placid tone and intense stares made Spencer feel like he was a specimen under a microscope.

Which probably should’ve had him winded but it didn’t. He could admit to some extent… he got a weird sense of pleasure in her undivided attention. “Yeah? Well if you’re so sure, why don’t you tell me?” His tone more curious than anything.

Izzy didn’t miss a beat. “Tattoos.”

“Because it pays more.”

She shook her head. “You’d quit the coffee shop if that was the case and make much more working full-time. It’s not about money. That’s why you spend most on getting fresh ingredients and let yourself suffer with cheep beer and only two pairs of socks. Making something with your hands is meaningful to you, but the coffee is just throwing shit to be squeezed out of machines. It still gets you to live off your sub kink but not as intimate enough.”

Spencer’s brows deeply furrowed. “My what?”

“Sub kink.” A wicked gleam shone in her eyes. “You like being submissive to other’s people’s wishes. Don’t tell me you don’t know that.”

“Okay, I won’t then.”

“Spencer, I've literally never met a guy who enjoys getting off on giving head instead of receiving it as much as you do.”

The heat instantly rushed up Spencer’s cheeks but not as fast as the unpleasant bristle under his skin at the implication. “And you've been with every kind of guy.”

“I’ve been with enough.”

She said it so off-handedly, it probably wasn’t intended to hurt him, much less set off a wave of jealousy. But it did. The melted tomatoes and apples suddenly weren’t the only things boiling up. “Well, that fits. Do you share your theories with all of them too or just the ones you sleep with for doing you a favour?”

Spencer hated the words as soon as they left his lips, the bitter edge in them was sickening without the added affect of Izzy’s expression growing dark. “You think this is something I do?”

No. No, he didn’t. He silently prayed that this wasn’t the case, that he was different. But the rose tinted lens was peeling off, the darkness bled into furthest corners of doubt he couldn’t wipe away.

“Well, I'm not stupid enough to think that even if I was the first, I'd be the last. You don’t avoid obstacles, you see how you can use them to your advantage— that’s what you said, right?” That was all he was. A means to an end, he'd only wind up more hurt if he didn’t just accept that.

Only, it seemed to have hit a little too late because the sheer look of disappointment Izzy threw at him cut more deeply than any potential slap or shows of disgust in the past.

“… Right. You’re absolutely right.” Her voice was hollow, much like the stare she upheld and he refused to acknowledge the weight crushing his chest.

He couldn’t suffice another word though, couldn’t move or speak. He stood there motionless as she reached for her bag by the counter and retrieved something. Hands clenched, it hit the smooth surface with a metal clank. Keys. “My car's all done at the shop now. Thank you for your service.”

Then she left.