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“Is this it?”
The car trundled to a halt outside a dingy block of flats, sandwiched between several other dingy blocks of flats.
“You’ve seen your salary. What were you expecting? Buckingham Palace?”
Lamb slammed the handbrake, elbow narrowly avoiding Shirley’s face leaning between the front seats, much to his dismay.
“Well, come on, then. You lot are useless but I think you know how to open a car door,” Lamb snarked, throwing himself out the car.
“Only if the door actually opens,” Louisa grumbled, giving her door a sharp kick before walking round to help Catherine with her equally stiff one.
“Which number’s he, then?” Shirley asked as she approached the battered building door, perusing the sticky buzzers with yellowing paper to indicate the flat they connect to.
“No need for any of that,” Lamb replied, whipping out a set of keys from the depths of his coat pocket, a chocolate wrapper tumbling out with it.
“How the fuck do you have keys?”
“He stole them and made a copy, I expect,” Louisa explained with a smirk while Catherine shook her head disapprovingly.“That’s definitely illegal, Jackson,” she reprimanded.
“For shame, Standish. Do you not want me to keep my joes safe?”
The door flew open with a deafening creak, revealing a narrow staircase with cigarette-stained walls. The light flickered overhead and faint voices filtered through the thin doors as they ascended through the building.
“God, it really is a shit hole,” Louisa muttered to herself as she observed her surroundings, “You must be paying him less than the rest of us because even my flat’s better than this.”
“Well, it’s not like he does anything worth paying him for. Here we are.” Lamb stomped up the last step with a wheeze and approached the adjacent door, pulling out the set of keys again.
“Oh, Jackson, I really don’t think we should just be walking in unannounced,” Catherine commented uneasily.
“Why? It’s not like we’ll be interrupting anything.”
“It’d be funny as fuck, though,” Shirley smirked as the lock clicked open.
In his defence, the inside of River’s one-bedroom flat was far nicer than the outside, though that’s not saying much. The decor showed evidence of a man doing his best on a budget. The navy sofa was clearly second-hand, cream cushions covering up stains no amount of bleach and elbow grease could remove. Patterned coasters sat on the oak coffee table, as did two half-full mugs. A large framed photograph of the Kentish countryside hung on the wall, procured from River’s grandfather’s house if one were to guess. “Cartwright!” Lamb called out from the doorway, the others filtering in from behind him and closing the door.
“Shit!” River’s distressed voice was swiftly followed by a loud thump. Then, whispering. Two people whispering, to be precise.
“Perhaps we should wait outside…” Catherine suggested, turning towards the exit.
“And miss this? Are you kidding me? Cock-blocking that prick is gonna be the highlight of my life,” Shirley replied gleefully.
River stumbled through the bedroom doorway, feet caught in the legs of his jeans as he tried to pull them on. He snatched a t-shirt off the floor, turning around to save some semblance of dignity. Red scratch marks ran across his back and, as he faced his intruders, a bruise could be seen forming at the crook of his neck. “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even get in?” he hissed as he attempted to fix his ruffled hair.
“I think the more important question is who the fuck you’re hiding in there?” Lamb remarked.
“Yeah, and how the fuck you got her in there. Did you kidnap her?” Shirley joked mockingly. Usually, River would’ve attempted to snap something back, but all he could manage now was a nonsensical stammer.
“Um, has- has something happened, or…?” he tried to ask, mouth bone-dry at the humiliation of the situation. Even Louisa seemed mildly amused. Catherine had her head down, avoiding his gaze and generally ruffled state.
“Seems you were right about Peters. His house has just blown itself up and he’s nowhere to be seen. And Taverner couldn’t give two shits about intel from us so it seems it’s up to us to find him.”
“Fucking hell,” River groaned, rubbing his hands down his face and lightly head-butting the wall.
“Well, I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience, Cartwright, but there’s a lunatic on the loose so whatever poor woman you’ve got trapped in there is gonna have to wait,” Lamb chastised.
“What about the others?”
“Longridge drew the short straw so he’s on his way to pick up Ho. You’re not skiving out of this one, not when you have a habit of getting involved even when I’ve explicitly told you to fuck off.”
“Fuck, fine,” River agreed exasperatedly, “Just give me five minutes and I’ll meet you outside.”
“Why? So you can sneak your lady friend out? Not a chance.”
“Come on, Lamb. This is ridiculous and we clearly don’t have time to be messing about, considering you’ve broken into my flat.” River had turned a very distinct shade of beetroot since leaving his room, the embarrassment only worsening as he realised he was pleading with his boss like a teenage boy.
“Why don’t you want us to see her? Have you shagged an 80 year-old or something?” Shirley chipped in, eager to deepen his suffering as much as possible. “No! I just- I don’t see how it’s appropriate, that’s all.” If there was one thing River Cartwright was good at in times of personal crisis, it would not be lying.“Either she comes out here, or I go in there and see whatever horrors you’ve gotten up to so I can hang it over you for the rest of your miserable life,” Lamb stated flatly, a knowing smile hidden on his face.
River groaned loudly again, before scooping the other t-shirt off the floor and storming back into the bedroom. More aggressive whispering could be heard through the closed door and thin walls, until River reemerged, attempting to drag another person into the corridor with him.“No! No, I’m not fucking- Stop it!” the other, decidedly male, figure hissed while scrabbling at the doorway.
“You fucking stop it! They’re not just gonna vanish!” River sniped back, tugging harder until the man’s grip slipped and he tumbled into River’s side.
“Oh my fuck.”
“Jesus Christ, River.”
Catherine’s eyes left the floor, viewed the new individual to the room, and promptly returned to counting floorboards.
Instead of a pensioner or inflatable friend, they were all met with the sight of a highly disheveled Spider Webb. His hair had been hurriedly pushed off his forehead, as if that would do anything to disguise his general state. If anyone thought the single bruise on River’s neck was scandalous, they’d pass away at the sight of Spider’s pale throat and the marks that he had clearly not noticed, lest he’d be trying to cover them up. He was wearing joggers slightly too long for him, long enough to indicate that he’d pulled them from River’s wardrobe when he realised his own trousers were unwearable in public. A light blush sat high on his cheekbones and the area around his mouth was raw with beard burn.
“Evening, all,” he attempted, voice slightly hoarse and cracking halfway through the words.
“This is better than I could ever imagine,” Shirley muttered to herself in awe.
“River, what the actual fuck is going on here?” Louisa did not echo Shirley and Lamb’s feelings of amusement, instead finding herself having to use all available energy to not punch both River and Spider in the face.
“I feel like that’s probably a rhetorical question,” the former replied, ducking his head slightly in shame.
“Since fucking when were you sleeping with fucking Spider?”
“I feel like you’re also not gonna want an answer to that one either…”
“Oh my God.” She paced to the other side of the room, bracing herself against the kitchen counter.
River scratched his beard awkwardly while Spider put his hands on his hips and aimed sharp exhales at the floor.
“We literally don’t have time for this,” Louisa sighed, marching over to the two men hovering in the corridor.
“You,” she pointed harshly at River, “Are coming with us and we will be talking about this later.” He nodded obediently, like a child that knows they’ve done something wrong.“And you,” her finger turned on a frightened Webb, “Are a fucking prick.” Surprisingly, he copied River’s dutiful nod. A smart move to improve his chances of survival. Louisa turned on her heel and stormed out the apartment, door slamming behind her.
“I think I’ll just…” Catherine shot River an apologetic smile before nodding politely to Spider and following Louisa out the door. “Get a wiggle on, lover boy. We don’t have all the time in the world,” Lamb broke the room’s silence, triggering River to break out of his stupor and move to put some shoes on.
“Are you coming too?” River looked hopefully at Spider, still frozen in the corridor.
“Of course not,” he replied incredulously, “I wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“I don’t think it gets much lower than sharing a bed with this buffoon,” Lamb retorted before promptly stomping back out the way he came.
Ignoring the older man’s comments, Spider’s eyes remained fixed on River.
“I’ll be here when you get back.” If one were listening closely, they may have even heard fondness seep into his tone, a small smile creeping onto his face. River bit back a grin, nodding quickly before following Lamb’s warpath.
“Who knew River had a secret twink,” Shirley commented from the corner, sauntering towards the doorway.
“Fuck off,” Spider replied, failing to not seem amused. The two smirked at each other before Shirley vanished through the door, closing it harshly behind her.
Leaving River Cartwright’s flat finally empty.
Bar one, of course.