Sleepless in Ritattle (Tim X Rita Fanfic)

Work the Next Day

The next day at work was awkward, to say the least. Like the day before, Tim and Rita sat in their respective places across from each other to drink their coffee, but neither of them dared to say a word.
Finally, Rita checked her phone and saw that it was about time for them to get started on work. She closed her eyes for a moment. God, why do I have to be such a fuckup? She thought before opening her eyes and reluctantly placing her gaze upon Tim. When her eyes rested on his face, the memories from the other night flashed through her mind for a moment. She pushed the unsavory thoughts away.
"We need to get started. Let's just..." She looked around before lowering her voice to continue. "Let's just pretend the other night didn't happen, okay?" She whispered. Tim's face visibly flushed and he cleared his throat nervously. "Erm, yeah. Of course! And pretend what happened? I mean, I don't even remember us having... doing anything at night," He forced a smile and Rita let out an exasperated sigh. "You're overdoing it. Can we just go now? I've been researching, and I think I have another lead." She stood up.
Tim nodded uncomfortably and stood as well. What on God's Green Earth is wrong with me? He thought, internally facepalming.
Rita explained on the car ride to where ever they were going that she felt like they were extremely close to a big break in the case. She said all they'd have to do was tell a little white lie.
"And what does that mean?" Tim asked, scared but curious of her answer. Rita didn't say anything however. All she did was take one hand away from the steering wheel, reach in her bag, and pull out a thin black wallet. She let it fall open, and Tim saw that inside was a sinisterly convincing looking FBI badge.
Tim's eyes widened. "Where the hell did you get that? And why?" He asked, incredulous. "I figured if we could ask the bank for their records and could see which accounts were getting large influxes of money that didn't match their salary, we'd have some options to go off," Rita explained, Tim growing more concerned by the second. "But they're not gonna show some random reporters like us their records. I think they will, however, show their records to a some random FBI agents, though." She said all this with a winning smirk.
This time, however, Tim didn't swoon at her sly little grin. He frowned at her. "What the hell, Rita? What are you thinking? We could both go to jail for that!" He shouted. Rita scoffed. "This is my last case, Tim. Why not take some risks? We'll be heroes if we can find the guy that's doing this. No one cares if we lied to do it." Tim felt his stomach turn anxiously, but he didn't argue.
They stopped at the closest Wells Fargo. "And you're sure we're gonna do this? Y'know, without getting caught and thrown in prison?" Tim asked Rita before they got out. "Yes, Tim. Everything will go smoothly and we'll be fine," She said slowly, as if speaking to a toddler. Tim just frowned anxiously at her. "If you say so."
Rita undid her seatbelt and exited the car, her expression confident, and certainly not as nervous as Tim felt. He left the car as well and followed her into the bank. "Let me do the talking," Rita whispered, her voice barely audible, ensuring no one else heard. Tim was glad he wouldn't have to speak, because he was sure he'd screw it up somehow.
Rita, her best important bitch face on, walked up to the nearest open desk. "Hello, I'm Agent Greene and this is Agent Rogers. We need to see your bank records," She said, holding up the fake FBI ID. The bank teller stared at the ID and then Rita's and Tim's faces for what felt like a lifetime to Tim's terrified mind, and nodded. "Right this way, Ma'am," She said politely. Rita looked back and grinned at Tim, who, along with intense relief, couldn't help but feel his heartbeat speed up a little.
Goddamn it, Tim thought to himself as they were led to a room behind the service counter. I need to stop this right now. She's getting married and what we did last night was wrong. Still, his heart's rhythm stayed the same.
When they looked through the files, the two noticed a few accounts who'd spiked in money recently, and one specifically that had already had a substantial amount of money and regularly went through ups and downs. "This has got to be it," Rita said, her eyes shining with ambition. "What's the guy's name?" Tim asked her. "It's an organization, actually. Helping Hands for the poor. Of course, we may need to check some other banks as well, but if this is him, we've got this case in the bag! Kind of depressing that a non-profit like this could be involved in embezzlement... but still," Rita informed him. For some reason this didn't make Tim feel any happier.
Sure, if they found this guy, him and Rita would absolutely be heroes, and their company would make a lot of money and would probably give him a raise. But Tim would have given all of that up if it meant Rita wouldn't be retiring. "This is great," He said, feigning enthusiasm. Rita could tell there was something off in the way he said that, but she didn't question him.
"Let's go back to the office and try to figure out who this dude is," She said simply. Tim just nodded and the two of them left the bank with an awkwardly curt thank you to the teller.
Back at the office, Tim felt both glad that he could have some time alone and away from Rita's intoxicating presence, and simultaneously depressed that she wasn't near him anymore. He tried to pull his mind away from these thoughts while he did some work on the computer. "Now what really are you, Helping Hands? A fake organization, I assume..." He murmured, the clacking of the keyboard drowning out his other thoughts.
It took some time, but what Tim found shocked him to his core.
The charity was directly tied to a certain dashing millionaire; Moby Coldsteele.
Tim sucked in a breath of air. It suddenly made sense; how Moby was so wealthy, yet so mysterious. His attractiveness was undeniable (even to Tim), but there was something decidedly impure in his cold, handsome smile.
"Dear God... that bastard!" Tim exclaimed. He immediately imagined how to tell Rita. "Jesus Christ... How the fuck do I tell Rita that her handsome, rich fiancé is an embezzler, and that all those gifts he bought her were with money he embezzled from a charity for poor people?!" I can't even work up the nerve to tell her I love her. Why me?
Tim decided he would have to think on it and tell her the next day. Then he could reassure her that maybe it wasn't him and that Helping Hands having weird spikes in their income was just a coincidence. Surely Moby couldn't be behind this, right? Tim sighed at length and looked out his office window. It was midnight by now.
I'll go to the bar down the street... Drinking will either clear my mind enough to come up with a plan, or fuzzy it enough to make me stop worrying for a bit.
So, Tim headed to the bar and drank until his worries were tamped down enough for his liking. The worry was unfortunately replaced with a dull anger.
That goddamn bastard... Tim thought incoherently, glaring at the wall. First he whisks Rita away... then he goes and does this shit. I should go over to their house and just tell 'er now. Don't know why I was waiting...
Tim staggered out to his car. Some part of his mind was aware that he was a bit drunk to be driving right then, but the rest of his mind (the wasted part) overpowered that thought before it could impact his decision. He got in, forgot to buckle his seatbelt, and began his drive to Rita's.