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Finally. Peace and quiet.
Folder sighed and held his "top secret" file up to his eyes. His eyes skimmed across the words quickly, nothing he hadn't learned already. He wanted to learn more, but frankly, he was scared to leave the museum. The psycho, Remington, died. Someone would be coming around and he knew how suspicious it would look if he was roaming around. So, he decided, he'd just reread all he had already. Folder shuffled in place, itching to get up and walk. Control. He grumbled and refocused his eyes to his file. Sightings, headlines, all too blurry to be deciphered. His eyes drifted up, up to the piles upon piles of memorabilia on the walls, held up and framed. Complete garbage. Folder needed to focus but he just... couldn't. He stood up. He needed something interesting to happen.
And then something did happen. The door swung open, which caused Folder's heart to pound through his chest. It was a man, a detective, from what he could analyze. "Hello?" the man called. Red hair, like roses. Folder nearly choked, why did he just think that? He hated it when people compared other's features to flora or fauna, their personality to concepts instead of facts. He locked eyes with the detective. "Let me guess... you don't work here, do you? I wonder if that makes you the first tourist I've seen today...?" the man said. Folder scoffed, "You're incorrect, detective. I am no mere tourist," he spat. The detective's demeanor shifted, confusion, he guessed. "How... did you know I was a detective? Was it my stylish trench coat? My sensitive, inquisitive manner?" he grinned smugly. It made Folder's heart flutter. And he hated it, so he decided to fight on the offensive. "It was the clueless expression on your face."
"What are you talking about?" the man said, fragile ego. Folder hummed, "Yeah, that's the one," he crossed his arms, holding his file closely to his chest. "Right. That's it. You've done it now. I'm Detective Grimoire. What's your name?" he asked. Grimoire. What a beautiful name. Oh, why did he have to go and think that. He could barely choke his words out, over what? A detective who stumbled into his territory? "I go by Folder. Agent Folder. What are you doing?" he managed, squinting his eyes at Grimoire. "I'm doing a drawing of your beautiful face," Grimoire said sarcastically, scribbling something down onto his notepad. Folder knew it was sarcastic, he used sarcasm all the time. But, god. It made his heart melt. He could swear his face was prickling with heat. "Of course you are, nothing better to do?" he grumbled. Grimoire gasped dramatically, "How rude. I'm here because of the murder of Richard Remington. I don't suppose you know anything about that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Him. The name made Folder sick. He grimaced. "I know about it. Nothing important though..." he replied, as nonchalantly as he could, so he could hide the frustration that was bubbling up in his gut and seemed to swallow the warm feeling he had a few minutes ago. Grimoire nodded. Then, silence. Complete silence. It was awkward. It made Folder want to wrap his hands around the detective's neck and press their lips together, maybe even tug at his hair. He suddenly realized what he had just thought and practically gagged. Grimoire tapped his foot, "So?" he asked. He stepped closer. Folder looked away, to hide the redness that began to show on his face. "I know he died. I didn't talk much to him," he had to refrain from adding a "I didn't like him anyway, I'm glad he's dead, that idiot!" to his statement. Grimoire nodded, "Anything else?" he asked, scribbling something down in his notepad. "No, I would've told you already..." Folder scoffed. He couldn't stop thinking about him. His hair, his eyes, his coat, his voice. His voice was pure honey. He could fall asleep listening to it. Grimoire chewed on his lip and then, as suddenly as he arrived, he left.
To say it disappointed Folder would be an extreme understatement. He immediately clutched his chest and fell to his knees like he was some sort of lovesick maiden in a play. Why was he like this? He had just met this man. There was no way he already had feelings for him. No way at all. He had more important things to do. He sat back against the wall and opened his file. Boggy. Boggy. Boggy. Focus on him rather than the incredibly charming, attractive, charismatic detective that just walked in. Folder tilted his head back, pushed his glasses up, and closed his eyes. He just needed to take a break. He'd pick all of this back up later. When his mind wasn't plagued with... Grimoire. Oh, god. He bit his tongue in an attempt to get his mind to stop wandering. He needed sleep.
He woke up with drool dribbling down his chin and his glasses crooked. Folder's file was spread out across his lap, papers everywhere. He groaned. Seriously? Why did everything have to go wrong? He wiped his drool with his sleeve and fixed his glasses. His head felt light and fuzzy, must've been a good nap. Folder rubbed his forehead and stood up, wobbling. He grumbled in frustration. He needed to take a walk. He began to walk away towards the door. Folder reached for the door and pushed it open. Before he left, he took one good look at his research scattered on the ground. It'd manage.
The air was cool and humid at night. He strolled and kicked at rocks in his path. He avoided the trail leading to Remington's office always. Today? He turned sharply on his heels in the direction of it. Sure, he hated the man. And yes, Van De Peer got annoying, and his annoying sidekick, who looked like a thumb, was too. Not to mention, it'd look extremely suspicious if he walked in that direction at this time of night. From what he gathered, it was around midnight. But, he had his reasons. And those reasons had absolutely nothing to do with the fact he had a gut feeling that he'd find Grimoire in that area. Investigating the crime scene. Wiping sweat from his brow and mumbling under his breath. Maybe he'd even take that trench coat off. Folder couldn't help but blush. He definitely had a thing for the detective. He was just so perfect. He was mysterious, and with a name like Grimoire? It made warmth fizzle up in his gut. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He saw Van De Peer and the other one. What was his name? Brian? Bernie? Something like that. They were both chatting and practicing angles for some shot. Van De Peer grabbed the camera from his assistant's hands and placed it how, Folder guessed, he deemed correct. They both turned around at the sound of footsteps behind them. Folder waved to them awkwardly and picked up his pace. He just needed to see the scene of the crime. The two men simply turned back around and paid no more attention to him. Just how he liked it.
The hike up to the office was exercise since it was on such a sharp incline. Folder leaned against one of the trees at the top of the hill. He inhaled deeply. Hopefully, Grimoire wouldn't be there and he could just walk away. He'd realize how stupid this whole thing was and finally move on. But, of course, nothing could go his way. The door to Remington's office was ever so barely creaked open, the lights were flicked on too. It couldn't be anyone else, right? He swallowed. He needed to calm down. Folder could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. He walked cautiously downhill. He tiptoed across the wooden planks that led up to Remington's office. He peeked through the door, please don't be Grimoire. It was Grimoire. In all his glory. He looked disheveled. His hair was in his face, and it was sticking to his forehead because of his sweat. God damn it. Folder opened the door and stepped in, he wasn't trying to hide himself. He couldn't care less. At least, that's what he told himself. Grimoire turned his head towards Folder. "Oh, it's you... thought the ghost of Remington was gonna kill me or something..." he chuckled. How could he be so casual? "What do you need?" he asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Folder's word got stuck in his throat. "Uh, nothing? If I did, I certainly wouldn't come to you," he spat, the words seeming to flow out a little easier than he'd like. He guessed it was just easier for him to be a complete asshole.
"Then why'd you come all the way here?" Grimoire asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's suspicious, maybe coming back to get back a murder weapon? Something you left?" he added, grinning smugly, as if he actually did something. Though, it made Folder's heart flutter. He scoffed, "Are you stupid? No. I'm not here to get something I 'left', I'm here to see what the scene of the crime looks like," he said, his words sharper than glass. Grimoire snickered, "Why? I'm the detective," he asked, mumbling the last part. His voice was so soothing. Folder clenched his fists, "Because I'm sure you're not good at your job..." he grumbled. He was so confused right now. His mouth was giving the same witty replies it always did. But his mind? Oh, it was running at seventy, maybe even sixty nine, miles per hour about this man. His lips looked perfect. He was probably a good kisser. One that'd make you lose yourself. Folder blinked. His face felt hot.
Grimoire stepped towards him, boots clicking. He stopped at a few inches in front of Folder. His eyes squinted. His eyes, oh god. A smirk formed on his lips, "You're blushing, y'know?" he chirped. Folder adjusted his glasses, so unprofessional. He wasn't complaining though. "I am not!" he exclaimed. Grimoire nodded, "You totally are," he laughed. Oh god. He couldn't handle this. This was the worst idea of his life. Why would he go into a dead man's office and try to talk to the incredibly handsome detective that just happened to stumble in? He probably didn't even like guys! No, no. He definitely did. His name was Grimoire and he had red hair. "I am not..." Folder grumbled. Grimoire stepped closer, which made Folder step back. Grimoire grabbed Folder's chin, "Hmm... not complaining though..." he inspected his face. Folder's face flushed, he hadn't done something like this in ages. Grimoire laughed again, what was so funny? "You're kind of cute when you're flustered. Where's the witty remarks? Hmm?" he hummed.
He was done for. No way he could ever recover from this. He had to go back to the museum and cry his eyes out. Maybe even wreck some of those fake drawings of Boggy, that would help relieve stress. But on the other hand, kissing also relieved stress. "I... Thank you?" he mumbled. He wasn't sure of what else to say. His fists clenched, this was not what was supposed to happen at all. He didn't mind but it was all so new. He had only kissed two guys, once as a dare, and the other was a one night stand. But this? The teasing? In a place so open? He was not used to this. Frankly, he could never get used to this. Grimoire chuckled, "You can talk, great!" he pressed Folder to the door. The wood was so old, and probably rotten, that Folder thought it would immediately collapse, cause him to fall backwards, and get laughed at. Surprisingly, it didn't.
"I... what are we doing?" Folder asked. Grimoire laughed, "Nothing... yet," he replied with a wink. His face got even hotter. "H-Here?" he asked, his voice a little louder than he intended it to be. Grimoire shrugged, "Well, the guy's dead, isn't he? I don't think he'd care," he said. Folder nodded. Okay, he got this. "So, do I... y'know... kiss you or something?" he mumbled. Grimoire raised an eyebrow, "Do you want to?" he asked. Folder nodded his head furiously. Grimoire chuckled, all these little noises were music to Folder's ears, "Then go ahead."
Well, he had permission. He wanted to. Grimoire wanted to as well, at least, he guessed so. Why not? Folder cupped Grimoire's face with his hands and pressed their lips together. It felt amazing. He tasted like apricots and cinnamon. It was strangely comforting. Grimoire's hand drifted down from Folder's chin to his neck and grabbed his waist with the other. God, he wanted this so badly. Folder hadn't kissed someone in so long. One of his hands grabbed at Grimoire's hair, he didn't tug, he just held it in his hands. It was soft. So soft. Just like he thought it'd be. Grimoire pushed him against the door. He pulled away slowly, "Hmm, you're not bad... surprised!" he exclaimed. Folder scoffed, "I've kissed someone before, you imbecile!" he pouted. Grimoire chuckled, "There you are, Agent! Missed you, and don't worry. I'm just playing," he replied. Being called "Agent"? Something he insisted on so much? In a moment like this? Pure joy. Grimoire pushed his lips to Folder's, this time rougher. His hand grabbed the side of Folder's face and tangled itself in his hair. Folder whined, his grip on Grimoire's hair tightening. He tugged at it a bit. Grimoire's tongue slipped into Folder's mouth, leaving teasing strokes on his tongue. His grip tightened even harder.
Folder had to pull away for air. So did Grimoire. Folder clamped a hand over his mouth and panted like a dog. His glasses were nearly falling off his face. Grimoire smirked, his chest rising and falling. "I knew I was right to like you," he stated. Folder's eyes widened, "Huh?" he stammered. Grimoire laughed, "I liked you, you're my favorite suspect here. That's a hard role to get!" he explained. That was... the stupidest thing he ever heard. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Folder said, adjusting his glasses. Grimoire rolled his eyes, "Oh, shut up," he pressed his lips back to Folder's. Just were they should be. He grabbed back at Grimoire's hair and Grimoire grabbed at his waist. His eyes pressed shut. He loved this so much. Grimoire's head moved down to Folder's neck, positioning himself in the nook between his head and shoulder. He placed chaste kisses on his neck, which made little whines come from Folder's mouth. "Don't-" he began before Grimoire cut him off, "I won't leave any marks, I'm a not an idiot, I'm a detective!" he said, as if it were some sort of catchphrase. His kisses trailed up Folder's jawline and then onto his cheeks, then to his lips. Folder smiled, he felt amazing. He tugged at Grimoire's hair again and again.
He kissed him until he saw stars and couldn't breath. He felt like he was going to pass out. Dear god. Folder looked up to Grimoire with half-lidded eyes and smiled weakly. He was tired, turns out a five hour nap doesn't solve nights without sleep. "I have to go, Grimoire..." he mumbled sleepily, the detective's name rolling off his tongue. He didn't mean to say that, it was rude, like calling him "Folder" instead of his correct title "Agent Folder". Grimoire smiled and backed away from Folder so he could move. He wrapped his arms around the detective and smiled giddily, he was so happy. He thought today would end in him either getting hit or verbally assaulted. Hell, maybe even both. He ended up perfectly. His dreams were a reality. He didn't know he could get so attached so quickly. Grimoire lifted Folder's head up, "Y'know what we're gonna call this, Agent?" he hummed, wiping some saliva from his chin. Folder raised an eyebrow in confusion, "No? What?" he replied hesitantly. Grimoire chuckled, "Classified info."