The door slams against the wall on its left, being opened with such force that I'm surprised it stays on its hinges. I remove my arms from around her waist, gripping her hips and turning us around to press her against the door, closing it in the process. My actions come to a halt when her ice cold hands reach beneath all three layers of clothing on my upper body, flattening her palms against my chest. I detach our lips and let out a sharp, shaky breath, looking down at the bump her hands are forming; I blink twice, snapping out of my trance, and finally latch my lips to her neck, sucking on the skin, determined to leave a mark.

"Freya," I breathe against her neck a minute later, kissing the newly broken skin several times. "Freya, Freya, Freya..."

"I take it you like my name?" She breathes too, smiling as she pulls her hands out of my shirt, now pulling at the collars of my unzipped jacket to bring me closer to her.

"I'm just getting myself used to it," I smile too, connecting our lips as I pull her away from the door. I feel like being sure of her name is going to be useful in a few minutes.

She starts leading us somewhere, pushing me backwards as we walk to our destination – which I know isn't the bedroom, since it's right across the front door and we'd already be there. She'd already be half naked as far as I'm concerned, dammit, Freya, where are you taking me?

"Where are we-" I start mumbling against her lips, but I'm cut off when she pulls away just a few inches, so she could spin us around so that she's the one walking backwards now. I take a few steps toward her, and she waits until our bodies have collided to start walking again.

I lower my head down to hers again, giving her a three second kiss before I feel her body jolt backwards; I'm quick to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me, looking down to see what had almost caused her to fall.

"To hell with your fucking doorsills," I mutter, a little annoyed as I look up at her laughing face, the sight making me smile a little. She'd lost her pom beanie somewhere on our way here, but I don't think I even care about it. It just means one less piece of clothing on her-

"Oh my God," I yelp, seizing the end of her leather jacket so that I wouldn't fall, like she nearly did half a minute ago. While she laughs, I look down at my feet; the beanie. I slipped on her fucking beanie, how is that even possible?

I let out an exasperated sigh as I look up at the ceiling, stretching my arms out and making her laugh even harder. "May I be given a break?" I say jokingly in a weak tone, having Freya throw her head back in laughter. That's one good thing in embarrassing myself in front of her; it'll make her laugh.

Her hands are on the collars of my jacket again, pulling me somewhere while I continue looking at the ceiling. Though I abruptly look down as she pushes me away from her, and my heart quite literally skips a beat when I fall down – fall down on her couch. Well, this is relieving. Nothing can go wrong now.

As she straddles me and sits on my thighs, I'm almost positive that my heart had skipped another beat. I place my hands on her hips, sitting up to reconnect our lips while taking her jacket off. Yeah, nothing can go wrong now.

"Ow!" Or maybe I spoke too soon. "My hair got- my hair got stuck in the... fucking zipper." Freya almost whispers the last two words as I start laughing again and fall on my back, reluctantly accepting the fact that I'm really not going to be given a break tonight.

"That was..." She starts, still sitting on top of me, as I place my hands over my eyes. "Nice and then embarrassing."

I laugh again at her choice of words, and look up, noticing that her voice is far quieter than usual; she's looking down at her hands, smiling, but still looking genuinely embarrassed on some level. I sit up with a grin, strangely happy that I got to see her somewhat flustered, and take her hands in mine while waiting for her to look me in the eyes.

"Hey," I say quietly when that doesn't happen; she takes a few seconds before hesitantly looking up into my eyes, a look of amusement and uneasiness both present in hers. I squeeze her hands to make her relax a little – even though the sight of her like this is entertaining, as cruel as that might sound – and eventually she gives me a tight smile, but then looks down again. Wow, this must really be distressing for her if she's okay with acting vulnerable in front of me.

"Hey," I repeat, this time not waiting for her reaction; I simply lean forward another few inches, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that's slow, innocent and basically the complete opposite from our previous ones. Whatever reason she has for not laughing off this dumb situation with me, I want to make her forget about it. She gave me fireworks, and I'm giving her comfort. Fair enough.

"Mm," I mumble into the kiss, putting our hands behind her back so that I can pull her closer to me. "Say something in French."

"What?" She lightly laughs against my lips, pulling away an inch or two for a second or two. "Harry told you about that too?"

"Mhm." I grin as she rolls her eyes, trying to act annoyed but failing as she keeps smiling. "Come on, tell me something in French. I bet you sound better than my third grade teacher."

She rolls her eyes again, but sits up and clears her throat. I subconsciously smile at how concentrated she looks for a few seconds. "Okay, well... uh, tu as des beaux yeux."

My lips part at her – seemingly – perfect accent, and I blink a couple of times as her, my baffled expression making her laugh again. "Okay," I say slowly, "What does that mean?"

"It means..." She trails off, smiling wider and biting her lower lip, "It means you have nice eyes."

I grin wider at the translation, for the first time feeling like I'm actually blushing. "Well thank you," I whisper, stealing another kiss before pulling away to look into her eyes again, her hands squeezing mine – that are still behind her back. "Tell me something else."

She sighs, looking up at the ceiling and licking her lips in concentration. "Well," She starts, leaning forward to peck my lips, not closing her eyes but instead continuing to look at the ceiling. "How about... tu embrasses bien."

Even though she's telling me these short sentences, I can't help smiling at them because of her accent. "What does that mean?"

"That means you're a good kisser," She says, with a rather proud smile as I start laughing again.

"Well now you're just spoiling me," I mumble, my words barely coherent as she leans down to kiss me again, pulling her hands out of mine to put her arms around my neck. I feel like she's making up for every time that she didn't let me kiss her; but even if that were the case, we wouldn't be able to do it in one night. I've wanted to kiss her since I've known her, and I've known her for two months; two months can't be put into one night that easily.

She's the first one to pull away, pecking my lips a few times before leaning back, to look at me properly. "What about you?" She says quietly, scanning my face with a weird glint in her eyes.

"What about me?"

"Do you know any foreign language?" I don't know why I haven't realized this before, but she obviously really likes languages.

"Um... I know Irish," I say quietly, looking around the room. "Irish Gaelic. I'm not exactly fluent and it's not exactly a foreign language, so..."

"It is to me," Freya says quietly, but even if I was on the other side of the room, I'd be able to hear her excitement. She really does like languages. "Come on, say something in Irish. Gaelic. Irish Gaelic."

I breathe out a laugh as she shifts in my lap, as if to prepare herself for what I'm about to say. "Alright, well..." I trail off, looking her in the eyes while trying to think of the perfect thing to say. "Tá grá agam duit."

She lets out a breath that she's obviously been holding as I finish my sentence, making me laugh at her. That's a nice change. "That-that sounds nothing like English," She breathes out with a wide grin, her hold around my neck tightening. "What does it mean?"

I love you.

"It... it means you have nice eyes," I repeat her translation from before, gulping in relief when she starts laughing, meaning she believes it.

"Okay, so we've both established that we have nice eyes," Freya says with a wide smile, and I forcefully smile back too. "What else did Harry tell you?"

"Um... well, he didn't give me much details," I say through a small sigh. And really, even though he'd told me more about his sister than I could have ever found out from her herself, there are still countless questions going through my head. Like, why exactly did her father want her to get exorcised? What did she do to make him believe she needed it? And why exactly is Craig... the way he is?

But, I'm not going to ruin the evening by asking those questions. The answers will come out eventually. Baby steps, we're taking baby steps. "He told me about your dad, and... you moving to America, and... Craig..."

She nods quickly, keeping composure as she unwraps her arms from my neck, crawling backwards until she's sitting in the corner of the couch, opposite of me. As she reaches for the remote to turn on the TV I can't help thinking; what did I say now? She asked about it, didn't she?

With a small sigh I shift toward her, my body mostly facing hers as she stares at the TV, her feet on the edge of the sofa and her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest. "Did he freak you out?" She asks as she notices me lean down, aiming for her shoulder but I stop once the words leave her mouth.

"Um..." I lean another few inches away, looking at the ceiling as she looks at me. "Define 'freak out'."

To my relief, she chuckles, glancing at the TV once before looking at me again. "I mean... did he do anything that... you found weird?"

I purse my lips, thinking about him coming to my place a couple of days ago. "Not... really. He's just kind of..."

"He's really straightforward," She finishes for me, but that's not exactly the word I was going to use. "He just- says whatever's on his mind and doesn't care about the consequences. I don't know where he gets it."

Yeah, because you're the complete opposite of him. "Yeah, that's... that's Harry in a nutshell," I agree with her, looking at the TV for a few seconds. "But he's okay, you know, he's... he's someone I'd hang out with."

"Seriously?" I'm surprised at how surprised she sounds. "You'd hang out with Harry? Do you two even have anything in common?"

We both love you.

"I don't know," I say quickly, frowning a little. "We could probably play FIFA or someth-"

"He sucks at FIFA," Freya cuts me off, making me laugh involuntarily. "I'm better at FIFA than him. If you hang out with him, it's just gonna be listening to Kodaline and a bottomless pit of knock-knock jokes."

"I like Kodaline," I say in a high pitched voice, probably because I'm trying hard not to laugh. "They're Irish."

"You like everything that's Irish."

"Well, you're not Irish and I like you, don't I?" I look down at her as I put my arm on the backrest behind her, and she looks up at me too. I was expecting her to roll her eyes or scowl at me when I said that, but instead of that she's smiling at me. Harry shouldn't be the one making muffins, I should be making muffins for him.

"You better." She leans up, muttering the two words right before pressing her lips against mine in a chaste kiss. I smile into it, deciding not to ask what she meant by that.

"Can I..." I begin, once she pulls away and looks at the TV again, while I keep looking at her. "Can I ask something, and you don't punch me for it?"

Freya snorts, "Okay, but remember what happened last time when you said that."

"You're not gonna slap me like that again, are you?"

"Depends." She turns her head to face me, "On your question."

I narrow my eyes at her; this is like the beginning, when I was the detective and she was this mysterious almost-murderer. "Do you think you could... tell me something about... you know, about Craig?"

She blinks twice at me, her smile faltering and soon she's just looking at me with her lips parted. "C-Craig? Why would you be interested in... in Craig?"

I shift, a little uncomfortable, and shrug. "Well, Harry told me a thing or two about him, and..." I bite the inside of my cheek as she looks down, "And you don't have to, of course." I'd feel bad about asking about him, but it's bugging me how Harry said that he's her only boyfriend and that he likes having control of her. He used present. That means he's – most likely, not for sure – still her boyfriend.

"Okay, well, it's only reasonable of you to ask," She sighs, surprising me as she turns the volume on the TV down. "What do you want to know?"

I raise my eyebrows, quickly composing myself. "U-um, well..." I trail off, shaking my head in search of a simple first question. "Like, how old he is, and... where he lives..."

Freya snorts again at my elementary questions, shaking her head with a smile but continuing to look at the TV. "He's 32," She begins, my eyes almost falling out of my head at her words; and I told the police he's in his mid twenties? "And he lives here."

I blink a few times, looking around, as if expecting to see that frightening face. Suddenly I've forgotten all about him being thirteen years older than me. "Here? As in, in this apartment?"

"Yep."

I look around again, not being able to shake off the sudden feeling that we're being watched. "Relax," She tells me, completely unfazed. "He's not here now."

"Where is he?"

"At work."

I nod slowly, remembering how I'd put the pieces of the puzzle together when I talked to Harry. "He's the owner of the club you work at, right?"

"Mhm," She mumbles, obviously not feeling comfortable that I know all of this. "He leaves at noon and doesn't come back before two in the morning."

I nod again, this time a bit relieved. "So... he's not just gonna walk in?"

"Nope."

I nod for the third time, and look down at her fidgeting hands. I hate to make her nervous, but at least I'm not gonna do it again soon. "He's... he's your boyfriend, right?" Saying those words actually caused me physical pain.

To my surprise though, she chuckles, rubbing her face with one hand. "I knew you'd ask that."

"Well," I drag the word out, "I mean... is he?"

"No," She says immediately, lifting an entire mountain off my chest with that one word. "I don't... that can't be called a 'relationship'."

I've gone from feeling relieved to feeling like shit. "I'm... I'm sorry-"

"Did Harry tell you about my relationship with Craig?" She asks crossing her arms over her chest. Well, I've found out everything that I'd wanted to know, so now I'm aiming to change the subject as soon as freaking possible.

"He just mentioned-"

"Because it's not..." She cuts me off, but pauses to search for the right word. "It's not... normal. He's not normal. If Harry said that I could just leave if I wanted to, then he's-"

"Okay, okay," I quickly say, interrupting her. "You don't have to tell me anything else. I was just..." I trail off, shrugging and looking at the TV, hoping we'd dropped the subject.

"You were paranoid about me having a boyfriend?" I frown at the sudden amusement in her voice, looking down at the side of her head; she's trying to fight a smile. Or at least pretending to. Whatever it is, we're both obviously trying to change the topic.

"Yeah," I play along, clearing my throat. "You know how I feel about you and boyfriends."

"It makes you go mad?"

"Insane," I say in a flat tone, the fact that I'm agreeing with her making her laugh. "I practically go into bitch mode."

She throws her head back in laughter, making me grin as I look down at her. If someone had told me I'd be looking at her like this when I first met her, I would have probably told them they'd gone insane. "Oh God," She breathes out, still trying to stop laughing. "See... I don't like bitches."

I nod curtly. "Then I guess I should leave."

"No!" Freya exclaims, immediately reaching for my wrist as I stand up, pretending to be insulted and leaving. "Stay," She almost whispers, pulling me down and surprising me as she kisses me. She pulls away every few seconds to say "stay" in a sing-song voice, completely pulling away after the fourth time. I'm even more confused when she groans, seeming frustrated and gets off the couch.

"Great, now I have to play the song," She mumbles, and I happen to catch her words.

"Play what song?" I ask, wincing as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out, and raise my eyebrows as I read Harry's name on my screen, with a little envelope right under it.

I got it figured out :D could you meet me somewhere tomorrow? .x

"Robbers," Freya says from the other side of the room, just as I'd started typing a reply to Harry. I quickly lock my phone, deciding to leave it for later as she starts walking back to the couch, a quiet melody coming from behind her. I wonder how she'd react if she knew what her brother and I are plotting.

I blink as she offers me a hand, smiling as she does. "Voulez-vous danser avec moi?"

I roll my eyes as I push my phone down in my jeans, "Alright, I get it. You can speak French. No need to be a show-off."

She can tell that I'm just kidding, but she still raises her eyebrows at me. I sigh and take her hand, standing up, and she grins at me. "Bon garçon," She mutters before giving me a light kiss; I need to buy myself a dictionary. "Have you ever listened to The 1975?"

Oh, now we're speaking English? "No."

She grins up at me, still leading me to the middle of the room, like she's happy that I've never listened to her favorite band. "You have now."

I nod slowly as she puts her hands on my shoulders, realizing that this song is by The 1975. She keeps smiling at me, for another few seconds until the singer starts singing. If nothing, at least I'll know if I like them or not.

She had a face straight outta magazine.

I smile lightly, feeling a little ironic as I watch her; I'm pretty sure that I like them so far.

God only knows, but you'll never leave her.

It's a good thing she's started leaning forward, so she can't really tell that I'm not smiling anymore. Only two lines of the song, and I already feel like my life is described in it. I move my hands from her hips and wrap my arms around her waist as our lips connect, frowning into the kiss after a few seconds, and eventually pulling away.

"Her balaclava is starting to chew?" I ask, confused but Freya just laughs it off.

"Chafe," She corrects me, leaning in again, but this time keeping her her face an inch from mine, and repeating her words from before, only this time she's singing along. "Stay, stay... stay... stay... stay."

I pull her toward me with force, knocking her body into mine and pressing our lips together in a hard kiss, just as the chorus starts. She slides her arms around my neck, her left hand in my hair and I can't help but feel like I should savor these few minutes, where I'm just kissing her and we're slow dancing to her favorite band. Who knows what's gonna happen after I meet up with Harry tomorrow.

*******

freya is pronounced fray-ah and it means "lady" and it's popular in england (where she's from) and that's partly why i chose it as her name :) the other reason is that i'm completely obsessed with "witches of east end" atm and my favorite character is *drum roll* freya

and since school is starting on monday i'm going to be updating once a week, and it's going to be on mondays. don't forget that :] sooooo i'm gonna ask for 250 comments until the 8th because there's no way i'll be able to update in two days :(

in other news, this much cuteness cannot be healthy