ᴍᴜʟᴛɪғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ | ᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ғɪᴄs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇs

After hours ( Arthur x deaf wife! Reader)

Summary: fifteen minutes is not long, right?

Warning:  IT'S ARTHUR MORGAN AGAIN!!!!! mid angst, killer on the loose, minor injuries, mentioned of murdered,mentioned of blood, Arthur is Police officer, Modern Era, love, suspension, near death experience? Arthur is a good husband.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The storm clouds hadn't broken yet, but the sky was swollen with gray — the kind of dusk that made streetlights flicker on a little too early.

Arthur stood at the sink, rinsing a coffee mug, still in uniform, his sidearm holstered at his hip. The house smelled like fried onions and fresh laundry — peaceful. Until his phone buzzed across the table with Dutch's name on the screen.

He dried his hands fast and answered.

"Yeah, Dutch."

"Arthur," came Dutch's low voice. "We've got another body. South side. Same damn M.O."

Arthur's posture stiffened immediately.

"Shit. Where?"

"Alley behind a print shop. Woman. Late thirties. Worked alone, closing shift. Same time as the last one — between 10 and midnight. No witnesses."

Arthur exhaled, jaw clenched. "You think it's him again?"

"We know it is," Dutch said, voice tight. "And he's gettin' faster. We need you down at the precinct. Now."

Arthur turned around — just as he saw you walking in from the hallway, bag on your shoulder, coat in your hand.

He lowered the phone slightly. "What're you doin', darlin'?"

You signed casually, "The café's system glitched. I need to reset the POS before morning. It'll only take fifteen minutes."

Arthur set his jaw. "No. Not tonight."

You frowned, already reaching for your keys. "It's just fifteen minutes."

Arthur signed fast now, firm.

"A serial killer is out there. Another woman's dead. Same situation — alone, workin' late."

Your hands faltered. "You think he'll come to a café?"

"I don't think, I'm not takin' the damn chance," Arthur growled. Then, after a beat, he sighed and softened. "Look. I need to head to the station. But if you have to go..."

You waited.

"I'm drivin' you. I'll walk you in. I'll check the place. You lock the doors behind you. No one gets in. You text me when you're done."

You signed: "Fifteen minutes."

Arthur shook his head, grabbing his keys. "Fifteen minutes too long."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you arrived at the café just after 9:30 PM.

Arthur parked right up front, hazard lights flashing. The place was quiet. Too quiet. The windows reflected the amber glow of the streetlamps. He walked you to the door and waited as you unlocked it.

Before you went inside, he took your wrist gently and signed:

"If anything feels wrong — anything — you call me. Understand?"