Mercy || J.K

Caught Up

Song recommendation:
In My Mind -Lyn Lapid

Enjoy<3

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You let out a deep sigh, slumping down at your desk. Jean eyes you with a scowl as he throws the case file onto his desk and rolls a chair over , all with unnecessary aggressiveness.

"I'm not any happier than you about this, you know," he jeers, sitting down with such force that the chair rolls a few inches away. He groans in annoyance and shifts back, cursing under his breath.

You watch him silently, holding in a snicker. You catch yourself before you're able to vocalize your thoughts and instead turn to the file lying on Jean's desk. You narrow your eyes at it, displaying an implicit hatred. Somehow, it feels as though the file is glaring right back at you.

You would have been lying if you were to say that you weren't eager to begin this investigation. Although murders were a topic you were all too familiar with, something about this case felt different. It was a gut feeling, one you couldn't shake away.

Any more of this anticipation and you just might go insane. Yet, you couldn't help but to dwell on those thoughts. It must be distinguished in some way if Levi felt the need to partner you with Jean, right?

Oh, right. Jean.

You grumble at the thought of him and his immeasurable ego as he looks up at you. You try to ignore his gaze, tapping your fingers along the surface of your desk as you bite your lip in concentration. However, the flammable feeling of his unwanted stare piercing through your skin makes you grow annoyed.

"What is it, Jean?"

He leans forward in his chair, forearms resting against the base of his knees. "I hate when you do that," he states, and you raise your brows, not exactly knowing what he means. He simply continues staring at you, and you close your eyes as your patience runs thin.

"Do what?"

"The way you bite your lip. You look like a fucking idiot," he grumbles. You laugh, though unamused, and move to stand before him, leaning against his desk.

"It's funny that you think I give a shit about what you think," you smile and tilt your head. He rolls his eyes and leans back, lifting his head up.

"Well, I think you do, or else you wouldn't have asked." He smirks in approval with his words.

He had you there, and you hated that you gave him the chance to prove you wrong. You narrow your eyes at him and shake your head.

"You're annoying."

His face lights up in amusement and he releases a breathy chuckle. "Now, now, doudou, don't go on talking about yourself like that."

Your brows automatically furrow and you straighten your posture. "Again with that shitty nickname?" you complain, pinching the bridge of your nose to showcase how irritated you were growing. He merely laughs in response, amused by your behavior.

"Aw, come on, you love it." He props his elbow up on the arm of the chair and uses his palm to support his head.

At this point, you've had it with him. You want so badly to wipe the smirk off his infuriating face, but he somehow tends to find a way to get to you.

"What's the matter, doudou? Cat got your tongue?" he taunts.

Your nerves rise in an instant, and you close your eyes while taking a deep breath to calm yourself.