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Crickets chirped alongside the gentle ticking of the toon methodically moving about the shop, while the train outside was heard moving along the tracks. All the other lights in the lobby had dimmed as most toons had headed off to bed. It was quiet, but not silent. The perfect time for organizing.
Or waiting.
“You were meant to be here a couple of minutes ago,” Dyle called while pinning a paper onto the board in the back of the shop.
“I suppose you haven’t heard of ‘fashionably late’?” The detective lightly joked.
The shopkeeper turned around to now face him, tapping his own face for emphasis. “Fashionably late is still late, Rodger.”
Regardless, he still walked over to properly greet the toon, holding his chain and then placing it down alongside himself as he leaned against the counter.
“Toodles had some issues falling asleep,” Rodger explained as his eye glanced away and then over his form.
“I suppose I can forgive you then,” He replied with a smirk, his own gaze flickering over the detective in front of him.
With a gentle sigh he rolled his eye. “I believe you would’ve anyway,” Rodger waved his hand as if to wave off the implication, setting it down closer to Dyle.
It was a silent invitation, but one that he noticed regardless. He didn’t even look, simply accepting by placing his hand upon the other’s. “Do you really? For a detective, I’d expect you to sound more confident with that claim.”
Leaning in a bit closer, he spoke softer now, “It was simply a hunch.” There was a certain playfulness to his tone, going along with Dyle’s teasing.
Looking down, he noticed how Rodger’s thumb gently rubbed along the side of his hand. He then looked up, meeting his gaze. There was an admiration in Rodger’s look, almost adoring. Dyle couldn’t help but smile as he repositioned his hand. “You’re staring again, Rodger,” He pointed out as he squeezed his hand and leaned in a bit closer.
“So are you,” Rodger replied softly with a tenderness in his voice that made his clock hands twitch. Dyle watched as his eye glanced ever so slightly down and he leaned in just enough to be noticeable. Another silent invitation.
Their faces being merely inches apart made it easier for Dyle to place his hand upon Rodger’s hand. Gently and slowly, he guided his face to the side, placing a gentle kiss upon his frame. He lovingly rubbed his thumb against Rodger’s handle, relishing in the shiver he barely felt run through the detective’s body. Dyle felt his hand be squeezed and heard a gentle sigh, his partner leaning further over the counter.
“… I do wish we had more time together,” Rodger whispered to him.
With a slight frown, Dyle let go of his handle and placed his hand back onto the counter. “You know how things are. You’re just as busy as I am these days.”
“I am. I love to do my job, but…” Rodger looked to the side, pausing for only a second, “I’d rather have the freedom to do more than just that,” He admitted as his gaze met Dyle’s once more.
He felt a twinge of pain. “… You’ll get used to it,” He whispered while looking down.
The crickets chirped and the gears softly ticked as the two sat in the near silence. Dyle stared at their interlocked hands, watching as Rodger’s thumb gently rubbed against his knuckles. With a deep inhale and a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Rodger’s.
“… Do take care of yourself, won’t you?”
Dyle opened his eyes to see Rodger staring back. He frowned. The detective looked as if simply holding his hand caused him to ache.
“Can you promise me the same?” He asked carefully.
With a small smile, Dyle cradled his face with his hand. “I’ll do what I can, Rodger.”
The detective looked a little disappointed, as if unsatisfied with that answer. But despite that, he closed his eye, squeezing Dyle’s hand as he kept himself close to the shopkeeper.
“Thank you.”