|Crime of Passion
Author: rina-ree PM
Shannon Henry is attracted to Lawson Blake, but he's oblivious. Besides, he has a girlfriend, and another man has his eyes on her. RATED M FOR LATER.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Lawson & Shannon - Chapters: 2 - Words: 5,802 - Reviews: 22 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 01-29-12 - Published: 12-30-10 - id: 6605806
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
a holiday project since school's out (for now, for me) and Rush finished up for the year. my first ever fanfic, so i'm freaking nervous like hell! i usually frequent on FictionPress, so yeah. i'm a huge as fan of Shannon and Lawson and this is a bit of AU-ness. :D
oh, and I don't own anything at all, of course. although i want my own Lawson! LOL.
HEED THIS WARNIN'! rated M for heavy coarse language, smut and violence. gonna change the rating later, alright? ;) i swear too much, too, so if you can take it, then awesome!
phew, enough of that! enjoy and HAPPY HOLS! (:
Crime of Passion
Chapter One – Tension
SERGEANT SHANNON HENRY sighed, rubbing her tired eyes from the late night she had with her mate and colleague Stella Dagostino at the pub, drinking beer and playing pool. She knew it was a really bad idea to drink when work was early the next day, but Stella was insistent on her 'living life, which really connoted the hidden message, 'having drunk sex with random strangers'. Sure, she liked having a beer with her friends, but not too often. It was ridiculous, really.
"Come on, honey! Play the field! Meet some penises!" Stella had said to her last night at the locker room, when she asked her to go to some new nightclub downtown. She punched Shannon's arm playfully, a mischievous, all-knowing smirk on her lips. "Come on. I bet you haven't fucked a guy since Josh."
Shannon had rolled her eyes at her friend, even though this fact had been true. "So what, Stel? I don't want a fuck right now. I'm dedicated to my job."
Stella scowled at her, stubbornly, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Bullshit! You know, for a gorgeous girl, you don't put out much. But, I guess that's how Sergeant Shannon Henry rolls. I swear, you're like…" she trailed off, eyebrows creasing in thought, searching for an adequate term for this, "…a female version of Lawson."
Shannon frowned right then. Was she really?
Now, as Shannon examined her bags under her eyes in the mirror of the locker room, she scoffed in disbelief at the dark purpleness of it. Why, thank you, Stella! Shannon thought fiercely, pulling the prominent, loose skin from under her left eye. Never again she was going to stay up late when she had work. Dammit. Was she that relenting?
Not that last night had been a blast anyway. Five minutes after she and Stella had arrived into the club, her ever-so-faithful friend had abandoned her, because she had to 'go to the restroom', which really implied, 'making out with some blonde chick somewhere at the back of the club'. And so Stella had left Shannon with a copious amount of alcohol and horny men wanting a good time from her. Of course, Shannon with the acid tongue, had to give them a piece of mind. And a splash of cranberry and vodka on their faces.
Frickin' Stella. She ought to kill her. Figuratively, of course, because that would be ironic, considering she was a cop.
Shannon groaned in exasperation, rummaging through her make-up bag for her concealer to hide those stupid circles.
"Shan. Good morning," Senior Sergeant Lawson Blake greeted her from behind.
She froze, feeling her heart palpitate wildly, just like the one million and one times she had whenever Lawson Blake was around. "Hello," she replied, turning around to face him. "I mean, hey." She shook her head. "I mean, good morning."
Stupid, she cursed at herself, wincing inwardly. Just fucking stupid. Fuck my life.
Lawson loped over to her casually – coffee in one hand, banana muffin in the other – while staring at her intently, through heavy-lidded eyes. His fixated gaze dipped down her body, pausing at certain areas, scrutinizing every damn inch, before his eyes roamed back up to her face.
And she felt uncomfortable, awkward. naked, at him looking at her like this, like she was under a freaking microscope or something, trapped in his gaze.
It was like as if he was checking her out.
And the gradual close proximity wasn't helping also. She couldn't help but feel that all-too-familiar lust for him, that began to rear its ugly head again.
But they couldn't. No.
Because they were colleagues.
Moreover, he was her boss.
Oh, and the slight fact he had a girlfriend.
Even though they did have a thing all those years ago.
Even though the whole 'sleeping with the boss' fantasy was a huge turn-on.
Still, even mentally chanting the reasons why she could not have these feeling towards Lawson Blake was not enough to stop the rapid beating of her heart as he leaned into her, close enough for her breasts to graze against his toned chest. The way she was breathing hard and labouredly, as his face leaned towards hers, close enough for her to feel his coffee breath blowing against her lips.
Was he going to kiss her?
But didn't he have a girlfriend?
Her breath caught. She swallowed, her eyes fluttering shut, waiting… anticipating…
Until, "Late night?"
Eh? Her blue eyes popped open immediately. "Huh?" she breathed.
Lawson's eyebrows creased together as he observed her face. "You have circles under your eyes. That's all. I figured you were out last night." He grinned boyishly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What? Hot date or something?"
Her head was still spinning, absolutely bewildered. Bastard. He dare he do that? Not that it was intentional of him to do that, but it certainly made her pissed. What a fucking tease!
She gave a tight smile. "Maybe," she said mysteriously, after recovering. She decided to tease him. Ruffle his feathers a bit. "Certainly the best root I had in a long time."
His entire body changed right then, and he was a bit… crestfallen? Shannon watched as he swallowed, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. As his jaw clenched, cheeks tightening. As his teasing grin was wiped off completely, and replaced by a grim line forming on his lips. As his eyes darkened, the light toffee brown turning into a deep, dark chocolate. As the coffee cup in his hand crushed as he fisted.
"Oh, really," he deadpanned. His face was impassive, blank, however managed to show so much emotion at the same time. "Well… that's good then. I'm happy for you."
He didn't sound happy for her.
Shannon opened her mouth to say she was just kidding, that there really was no guy. That she was just teasing.
But Lawson had already walked out of the locker room, his footsteps loud and echoing.
Shannon frowned at his sudden change of mood. What the fuck was wrong with him?
"WHAT THE FUCK'S wrong with him?" Constable Christian Tapu whispered to Shannon, eying Lawson warily as he angrily threw blows on the punching bag. The Samoan raised a brow when Lawson cursed, then growled. Punch, punch, punch.
Shannon shrugged nonchalantly, jutting out her bottom lip. "Pfft, I dunno. Beats me."
"He's taken on the thing for nearly thirty minutes, sans break," Christian said, calculating this on his Rolex. He flickered his gaze to Lawson again. Punch, punch, punch. "I mean, what's up his ass today?" He paused. Shannon's eyes drifted involuntarily to Lawson's tight ass in those shorts. "Wait… Actually, make that everyday. But seriously, he's like fucking Hulk or something right now."
"Just leave him alone," Shannon said, rolling her eyes, though she was curious herself.
She didn't know why he was so tense. He seemed okay in the locker room, until afterward… Shannon inwardly panicked. What if she said something that made him angry. Oh God. Not that she remembered anything that made him like this. She hadn't insulted him or anything.
Shannon blinked. Or had she?
He couldn't have been jealous, could he?
Shannon wiped that thought of her mind, mentally scolding herself. God, he was with that journalist, Jacinta Burns, for goodness sake. Which made him totally unavailable.
"Or maybe," Christian said in a hushed voice, as if this suddenly just sprung into his mind, "he's sex deprived. You know, dry spell? I mean, I know he's seeing that journalist, Josie or Jacquelyn or whatever, but I remember when she visited last month, and she's kinda, you know…" he trailed off and nodded slowly, not wanting to continue lest Lawson might hear and put him through a wall.
"Bitchy? High-maintenance?" Shannon finished, a knee-jerk answer that rambled off her tongue before she even had a chance to think. She bit her lip.
"Exactly." Christian nodded, before continuing. "So, I'm thinking that Lawson's girlfriend's making him wait and suffer for several weeks without sex, so that when he's desperate for it, she'll break the ice. You catch my drift?"
Shannon raised an eyebrow at the beefy Samoan, tugging at her sports bra strap. "What the fuck, Christian? That's not even the slightest bit plausible."
"Yes, it is," Christian said, nodding, so serious, so solemn. "It's total dominatrix stuff and Lawson's girlfriend seems kinda that type. You know, sadistic. I mean, my wife does it to me all the time."
Shannon's jaw dropped in disgust. "Oh, God, Christian!"
Christian grinned cheekily. "That's what Annie screamed last night. Speaking of, since she's preggers, she's like, extra hormonal."
Too much information, Shannon thought. She scoffed. "Fucking horndog. Someone should put you in a sex rehab."
"Hey, hey! Don't be jealous 'cause I'm gettin' action, Blue Eyes," Christian said, still grinning. "Just because you've taken a vow of celibacy, doesn't give you the right to deride others because they're having hot intercourse. But of course, I'm very proud of you, Saint Shannon." He placed his hand on his heart to emphasise this. "Giving up sex for God… Man, you know, some people can't do what you do."
"Fuck up, assclown."
"Mornin' TR1. Isn't it a lovely day today?" Constable Michael Sandrelli exclaimed as he sauntered into the training room with a omnipresent grin on his face.
Shannon snorted, rubbing her eyes. "Well, if you could call a winter's day in Melbourne lovely. Then, whatever lifts your skirt."
"And of course it's good to see that Sergeant Henry is happy-go-lucky than ever," Michael replied sarcastically. "God, I am so lucky to be living with the happiest woman on Earth."
"Shut up, Muppet. I had a late night."
"I was very well aware of that," Michael said, nodding. "You woke me up in the wee hours because you forgot your key."
Christian laughed, nudging Shannon's side sharply with his elbow. "What? You didn't tell me, Shannon. You get laid last night? Broken the drought?"
Shannon glared at her colleague. "Oh, very funny. For your information –"
"Hey! Shan, Christian!" Lawson's voice cut through the air, practically growling. Shannon felt her heart leap in shock. Shit, he sounded so fucking angry. It was kinda hot, despite and the weirdness of it all. His body was tense and his jaw was clenched. "What are you incompetent people doing just sitting there? Let's go get ready, for goodness sake!"
And then he was out – accompanied with a march and a door slam.
Michael blinked, taken aback, as if Lawson's bossiness was a first. "Whoa, holy shit. Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed," he muttered. "Gee whiz."
"Ha-ha. See?" Christian said to Shannon in a know-it-all, smartarse manner, gesturing to the door with his thumb which Lawson had just slammed, as if that just proved his theory. "Told ya, Henry. Sex deprived."
THE DRIVE AROUND the streets of Melbourne patrolling, was quiet.
No, actually, tense was a more adequate adjective for this, Shannon thought. So tense, you could serve it with a scoop of ice-cream. The type of tension that permeated through the air.
And although with zero evidence or confirmation, it was clear that this tension was created by Lawson.
Because he was completely mute and oblivious to everything.
Even with Christian's perpetual commentary, which was this running monologue about the most trivial things ever, that had always annoyed Lawson to no end, had went unnoticed today.
Even Christian's stupid birdcall imitating shit hadn't fazed Lawson either.
Shannon was silent as well, sitting in the backseat and occasionally sipping on her French vanilla cappuccino, whilst covertly sneaking cursory glances at Lawson, studying his body language. From her peripheral vision, she could see that his broad shoulders were squared, his posture was ramrod straight and his arms were crossed over his chest. Shannon read once in a magazine that arm folding was a telltale sign that someone was being deliberately incommunicative. Or some shit like that.
Maybe Christian was right – he was deprived of sex. That was why he'd changed so suddenly when she said that she'd gotten some – even though she really hadn't. He was jealous because he was sexless.
It made sense.
"So, Senior Sergeant," Christian said to Lawson, while he was cruising through the main road. "How's Jacinta?"
Shannon rolled her eyes from the back seat, albeit smirking in amusement.
Lawson, who was previously looking out the window vacantly now slowly reared his head to look at Christian, an eyebrow arched. "What?"
"Jacinta? You know, your girlfriend? How is she?"
There was a pregnant pause. Lawson's mind was obviously reeling. Shannon could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. It was that palpable.
"She's fine," Lawson said slowly through gritted teeth, studying Christian curiously. "Why?"
Christian shrugged nonchalantly, slowing to a stop at a traffic light. "No reason," he answered quickly and casually, as if his questioning was absolutely normal. From the rear-view mirror, Christian sent Shannon a told-you-so grin. "See, what did I tell you, Shannon?"
Shannon snickered at this inside joke that Lawson obviously wasn't privy to.
"What?" Lawson demanded, clearly miffed. "Come on now, share the joke."
"You don't like jokes, Lawson," Shannon told him. "Besides, Christian's just being an idiot."
"Christian's always an idiot," Lawson said. Christian's jaw dropped, taking umbrage at this insult. Lawson seemed unfazed. "Now tell me what's so funny that you had to laugh at your boss."
Christian shook his head in laughter. "Oh no, man. You can't bring superiority factors into this."
From the side mirror, Shannon saw Lawson raise an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're making fun of my girlfriend or something? What? Tell me."
For a stretched second, there was a dead silence.
And then, a clear of the throat from Christian. "Fuck no, man. Dude, why would we do that?"
This was a rhetorical question.
Again, another tensely intense silence, so thick, so tangible, someone could cut through it with a fucking knife.
Lawson was quiet, and although he didn't say anything, Shannon knew that his mind was running, thinking, probing this, trying to figure it out.
It wasn't like Christian and her had talked about Jacinta in a snarky way. Christian had just guessed that Lawson's girlfriend was somewhat sadistic. Which happened to be the reason Lawson was so goddamn moody.
Like now, for example, as his eyebrows creased together, his facial expression of the day.
And she felt kind of concerned and worried…
"Lawson," Shannon said, her voice taking on a more tentative tone. "Are you okay?"
Pause. "Fine," he replied monosyllabically.
It was clear to her that he was being evasive.
"A one-syllable answer doesn't cut it, Lawson," Shannon told him. "Something's obviously bothering you."
He sighed loudly, as if answering a question was such a hardship. "I am fine," he said vehemently, stressing the sentence, like it pained him to even say it. "Hey, look. That's three syllables." Sarcasm.
She narrowed her eyes and her jaw clenched involuntarily, hating that she was pushed aside even though she'd been caring. Ungrateful son of a bitch. "Fine," she spat, throwing a one-syllable reply of her own.
If he was going to be this fucking broody the whole day, week, month, then fuck that.
THE REST OF the day was entirely uneventful, to say the least. Public brawls, speeding, teenage gangsters and drunkards roaming the streets with their pants soaked with piss. The usual. Which was somewhat funny, because there were days that involved hostages and explosives and drugs and dangerous shit like such, that typical days like today were seriously underwhelmed.
Shannon yawned loudly as she opened her locker, tugging at her bra. Her breasts were fucking tender. It had been sore all day. "Ah, fuck," she muttered, wincing. "My boobs hurt like shit."
"I know. You complained all day," Christian said tiredly, toeing off his boots.
"Or maybe," Brendan Joshua said to her, voice monotonous, "you just have big bazookas."
From somewhere, Michael snickered at this.
Shannon scoffed. Idiot. Josh should've known what her boobs looked like anyway. They did have a little thing going on once upon a time. "I so do not," she told him, indignant. "They're substantial."
Stella laughed loudly, her voice reverberating through the walls. She peered closer at Shannon's cleavage. "Well, under close scrutiny, they're big. Ooh, looky look, your friends, Perky and Supple, have come out to play! Oh, which is great, because I'm taking you out tonight, babe. With a v-neck dress, guys will be all over you. Seriously."
Shannon shook her head. She didn't want to be abandoned again, have fat truck drivers ogle her like she was a piece of damn meat and being bored as fuck. She didn't have that patience. "Mmmm. No, not again. I'm tired and Michael's driving me batshit about groceries."
"You're boring." Stella pouted childishly. "Alright, alright, woman. Raincheck, then?"
Persistent little runt. Shannon waved her hand. "Whatever."
After a collective round of goodbyes and see-you-tomorrows, and Michael reminding her to make a trip to Coles, And with the reminder to buy non-scented toilet paper, because the flowery smell of them apparently made him nauseous. But what kind of idiot sniffed toilet paper anyway, in the first place?
Shannon made her exit, before stopping in her tracks as she saw Lawson leaning against her hood of her Camry.
He'd been cranky all shift, like he was suffering from some male form of premenstrual syndrome or some shit. Not to mention that he'd been avoiding her, not even bothering to make eye contact and only talking to her when work came to it.
It was like he was purposely avoiding her.
But here he was.
Shannon blinked, taking in his appearance.
He looked good.
Very casual. He was dressed in a white fitted tee, showing off his well-defined muscles and toned body, a black leather jacket to enhance the 'bad boy' appeal, and faded blue jeans that showed his butt. Despite everything, she had to swallow at his hotness.
Who was she kidding?
He was gorgeous.
"Hi," he said, practically leaping off her car and standing up straighter.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She said this a little bit coldly, because it'd still hurt, like a fresh wound.
He ran his hand through his hair, obviously stressed out. Shannon had to smirk at that – it was too cute. His light brown, soft-looking hair looked sexy as fuck now, effortlessly tousled, like he'd just gotten out of bed. "Shit," he muttered, mostly to himself. He cleared his throat, speaking louder. "Look, Shan, I'm sorry. I've been a dick today."
Shannon nodded. "Yeah, I agree,"
He let a short laugh at her honesty. "Gee, thanks."
She laughed too. "No, it's fine. I forgive you."
He nodded. "That's good."
And there it was again. Tension. Always ever-present. It was like a buzz of high-voltage electricity between them, like a power-struggle.
For a moment, they stared at each other.
Even though from a distance, his eyes literally burn into hers, his unfathomable brown eyes piercing into her light blue ones. She realised that this was a stalemate, the situation of which there is no further worthwhile action.
Until a clatter from somewhere interrupted their staring contest.
So that was when walked towards her car, taking out her keys out of the pocket of her jacket. She flashed him a close-lipped smile. "I should go. See you tomorrow, right?"
Shannon paused, as she felt his hand around her wrist. And honestly, it was like she'd forgotten how to breathe. It was enough to send shivers down her spine, cause her to stop breathing and cause her heart to beat irregularly. Her mouth dropped open at his closeness. Has a girlfriend, has a girlfriend, has a girlfriend…
"What?" she whispered breathlessly.
"How about we go get a beer at the pub, hm? A peace offering of sorts?" He let go off her wrist, to her disappointment, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Shannon regained her composure after the momentary trance and arched an eyebrow. "Were we at war?"
"No," he answered slowly. "Fine, let's just all this a friendly post-work drink."
Shannon winced, pursing her lips in thought. "Oh, shit. Sorry, I'm supposed to pick up some groceries at Coles or else Michael's gonna go freakin' mad."
"Aw, come on, Shan," he urged, like a child wanting to go to the park. He grinned, and it was so hard to say no to that. His smile was absolutely breathtaking. "Coles is open 24/7. Come on, just one drink. My shout."
His smile had done it. Shannon sighed and let her arms drop as a manifestation of defeat. "Okay, fine."
honestly, THANKS FOR READING! i realised that this is so long, but oh well!
you, dahhhhlin', have officially become my best friend! i love you!
should I cont.?