Detective Harvey Bullock trudged up the stairs to Y/N's apartment, his weary bones protesting each step. It had been another long day in Gotham, full of the usual mix of corruption, violence, and despair that seemed to permeate every corner of the city. But as he approached Y/N's door, he felt a familiar lightening of his spirit.
Y/N had been his best friend for years now, a beacon of warmth and normalcy in the chaos of his life as a Gotham cop. She understood him in a way no one else did, accepting his gruff exterior and the occasional drink too many without judgment. More than once, Harvey had found himself wondering if there could be something more between them, but he always pushed the thought away. He was too old, too cynical, too set in his ways for someone like her.
He knocked on the door, running a hand through his dishevelled hair in a futile attempt to make himself more presentable. The door swung open, and there she was, smiling up at him with that radiant grin that never failed to make his heart skip a beat.
"Harvey! Right on time," Y/N said, ushering him inside. "Come in, come in."
As he stepped into the apartment, Harvey froze. The lights were dimmed, and candles flickered on every available surface. The small dining table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, a bottle of wine already breathing nearby. Soft jazz played in the background, and the air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of a home-cooked meal.
"Uh, Y/N?" Harvey stammered, suddenly feeling very out of place in his rumpled suit and worn overcoat. "What's all this?"
Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly as she closed the door behind him. "I just thought... well, we always meet at bars or diners. I wanted to do something special for once. Is it too much?" She asked, adjusting her dress.
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Harvey swallowed hard, his mind racing. Was this just Y/N being her usual thoughtful self, or was there more to it? He'd be lying if he said he hadn't dreamed of a moment like this, but he'd never allowed himself to believe it could actually happen.
"No, no, it's... nice," he managed, shrugging off his coat. "Real nice. I'm just not used to, you know..." He gestured vaguely at the romantic setting.
Y/N laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in Harvey's shoulders. "Well, get used to it, Detective. Tonight, you're getting the five-star treatment."
As they sat down to eat, Harvey found himself relaxing. The food was delicious – some kind of fancy pasta dish that he couldn't pronounce but thoroughly enjoyed. The wine was smooth and rich, and the conversation flowed easily, as it always did between them. Y/N regaled him with stories from her job at the library, and he shared some of the more humorous (and less gruesome) anecdotes from his week at the precinct.
Harvey couldn't help but notice how the candlelight danced in Y/N's eyes, how her laugh seemed to light up the whole room. He found himself leaning in closer, hanging on her every word. For the first time in a long time, he felt the hard shell he'd built around himself beginning to crack.
