characters: winter schnee, cinder fall, mentioned salem
extra tags: spy x family au but i butcher the lore, mentions of violence, smoking
#
Cinder raises her eyebrows at Winter over the desk, turning a cigarette over in her fingers. There are, Winter notes, round burn marks all the way up her arm. “Well? You’re taking the case?”
She nods once. “That’s why I called you here. To be blunt, I need your permission to go digging.”
Her eyebrows shoot up further. “You’re asking for my permission? I thought you’d just get on with it, you know?”
Winter shrugs. “I like giving people a chance to hide the things they don’t want me to see. I figured you might like a little extra warning.”
Cinder’s expression melts a little — warmth, maybe? She’s unbelievably hard to read — as she leans over the desk, trailing ash in a straight line along the grain of the wood. “That’s very kind of you,” she says, “but don’t you think I would have done that before coming here anyway?”
“I do have a reputation,” Winter concedes. Being significantly nosy (and ex-military), she has a pattern of attracting extremely wealthy clients with extremely shitty histories that wind up coming out during the investigation. It’s been awful for business, but some people like the challenge. “So. I’ll start looking into the description you gave me.”
Cinder waves a hand airily. “Don’t bother. I can direct you to her.”
//
“You killed her.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Cinder says flatly.
“My target was found dead in her apartment with seventeen stab wounds and a calling card. She was more blood than person by the time the cops got there.” Winter presses her hands flat to her desk, fixing Cinder with a glare. “You know I work for Atlas. You took her out before they could get their hands on it.”
Cinder shrugs. Her suit is a little too big for her in the shoulders; the fabric ripples and shifts as she moves, cutting through the silence far too sharply. “What’s your evidence?”
Winter grits her teeth. She’s fucking annoying at the best of times. “Subject was found with seventeen stab wounds and a calling card. The only way the Fall Maiden knows how to kill people is by stabbing them seventeen times and dropping ash on their corpse. No offense.”
“You think I’m the Fall Maiden?”
“Your last name is Fall. You’re not subtle.”
Cinder grins at her, suddenly wolfish. “Pure coincidence, I assure you.”
“You’re being cocky about it because you like it when people recognise you.”
She sits down on the desk — particularly bold, considering how quick she knows Winter is — and reaches forward to draw Winter’s tie between her fingers, playing with the ends as she speaks. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really hot when you’re investigating?”
“That’s not even a — what?”
Cinder yanks a little on the tie. Winter blinks up at her, inexplicably overwhelmingly flustered all of a sudden, and doesn’t even think to lean back out of her range. “Seriously. You have this whole stern vigilante thing going on and it really works for you. I’m surprised more tearful clients aren’t throwing themselves on you.”
“Can you stop flirting with me while I’m accusing you of murder?”
It comes out hoarse, strangled. Cinder notes this, and she grins wider. “No. You know why I killed Salem, don’t you?”
Winter swallows thickly. “I told you. You know I work for Atlas. You knew I’d probably wind up taking the case to them, and you have a past with her, so you got rid of the evidence.”
Cinder leans closer, forcing Winter to sink back into her chair to avoid knocking their heads together. Her eyes burn amber in the shadow. Her voice is low — and fuck, Winter thinks, fuck, “I killed her because she was a huge bitch.”
Struck by the sudden urge to kiss her, Winter digs her fingers into the arms of her chair and waits for Cinder to withdraw before she replies. “Did you think I’d get rid of her for you when you hired me?”
She shrugs, looking thoroughly at home on her desk. “I don’t know what I thought. That you were the nicest-looking detective I’d seen in a while, maybe.”
“You know about my reputation.” Has her voice gone up an octave or two? She can’t tell. Cinder lets go of Winter’s tie and tilts her head back to take a sip of the drink she’s stolen from her desk, and the sight of the exposed column of her throat makes her swallow again, harder.
“Of course I do,” she says briskly. “I’m not an idiot. The positives outweighed the negatives.”
//
“Atlas are taking me on for their next Operation.”
Cinder is on her desk again. She takes a long drag of her cigarette, lets the smoke billow out through her lips before replying. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“It’s confidential,” Winter says, “but I’m asking for your help. You should be honoured.”
Cinder snorts. “I don’t work for cops.”
“We aren’t cops. Believe me, I checked.” She rests her chin on her hand, looking up at Cinder and the smoke drifting up to the top of the room. “You’d need to pretend to be my wife.”
She coughs, nearly drops the cigarette. Winter pushes the ashtray towards her wordlessly. “You — what? Huh? You want us to play happy families while you, what, run around shooting at people with guns?”
“We’re infiltrating a school. So, yes, happy families. I have —” she pauses, looks away. “I’ve been assigned a daughter. Penny. You’d like her.”
“You’re only asking me because you know I’m wildly attracted to you,” Cinder says defensively.
“I’m asking you because when you put on the costume you’re terrifying,” Winter mutters.
“Oh, you think?”
“It’s not entirely a compliment. I’d probably need your assistance throughout the course of the mission.”
Cinder looks at her, really looks at her, haloed by the overhead light with smoke curling from her lips, and for a moment she seems almost deific — “Do I have to pretend to be a housewife?”
“You can do whatever you want. Within reason, obviously.”
She smiles. Winter’s breath catches in her throat. “Then I’m in. Mrs Schnee sounds nice, don’t you think?”
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
word count: 1024
pairing: winter schnee/cinder fall
fandom: RWBY
characters: winter schnee, cinder fall, mentioned salem
extra tags: spy x family au but i butcher the lore, mentions of violence, smoking
#
Cinder raises her eyebrows at Winter over the desk, turning a cigarette over in her fingers. There are, Winter notes, round burn marks all the way up her arm. “Well? You’re taking the case?”
She nods once. “That’s why I called you here. To be blunt, I need your permission to go digging.”
Her eyebrows shoot up further. “You’re asking for my permission? I thought you’d just get on with it, you know?”
Winter shrugs. “I like giving people a chance to hide the things they don’t want me to see. I figured you might like a little extra warning.”
Cinder’s expression melts a little — warmth, maybe? She’s unbelievably hard to read — as she leans over the desk, trailing ash in a straight line along the grain of the wood. “That’s very kind of you,” she says, “but don’t you think I would have done that before coming here anyway?”
“I do have a reputation,” Winter concedes. Being significantly nosy (and ex-military), she has a pattern of attracting extremely wealthy clients with extremely shitty histories that wind up coming out during the investigation. It’s been awful for business, but some people like the challenge. “So. I’ll start looking into the description you gave me.”
Cinder waves a hand airily. “Don’t bother. I can direct you to her.”
//
“You killed her.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Cinder says flatly.
“My target was found dead in her apartment with seventeen stab wounds and a calling card. She was more blood than person by the time the cops got there.” Winter presses her hands flat to her desk, fixing Cinder with a glare. “You know I work for Atlas. You took her out before they could get their hands on it.”
Cinder shrugs. Her suit is a little too big for her in the shoulders; the fabric ripples and shifts as she moves, cutting through the silence far too sharply. “What’s your evidence?”
Winter grits her teeth. She’s fucking annoying at the best of times. “Subject was found with seventeen stab wounds and a calling card. The only way the Fall Maiden knows how to kill people is by stabbing them seventeen times and dropping ash on their corpse. No offense.”
“You think I’m the Fall Maiden?”
“Your last name is Fall. You’re not subtle.”
Cinder grins at her, suddenly wolfish. “Pure coincidence, I assure you.”
“You’re being cocky about it because you like it when people recognise you.”
She sits down on the desk — particularly bold, considering how quick she knows Winter is — and reaches forward to draw Winter’s tie between her fingers, playing with the ends as she speaks. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really hot when you’re investigating?”
“That’s not even a — what?”
Cinder yanks a little on the tie. Winter blinks up at her, inexplicably overwhelmingly flustered all of a sudden, and doesn’t even think to lean back out of her range. “Seriously. You have this whole stern vigilante thing going on and it really works for you. I’m surprised more tearful clients aren’t throwing themselves on you.”
“Can you stop flirting with me while I’m accusing you of murder?”
It comes out hoarse, strangled. Cinder notes this, and she grins wider. “No. You know why I killed Salem, don’t you?”
Winter swallows thickly. “I told you. You know I work for Atlas. You knew I’d probably wind up taking the case to them, and you have a past with her, so you got rid of the evidence.”
Cinder leans closer, forcing Winter to sink back into her chair to avoid knocking their heads together. Her eyes burn amber in the shadow. Her voice is low — and fuck, Winter thinks, fuck, “I killed her because she was a huge bitch.”
Struck by the sudden urge to kiss her, Winter digs her fingers into the arms of her chair and waits for Cinder to withdraw before she replies. “Did you think I’d get rid of her for you when you hired me?”
She shrugs, looking thoroughly at home on her desk. “I don’t know what I thought. That you were the nicest-looking detective I’d seen in a while, maybe.”
“You know about my reputation.” Has her voice gone up an octave or two? She can’t tell. Cinder lets go of Winter’s tie and tilts her head back to take a sip of the drink she’s stolen from her desk, and the sight of the exposed column of her throat makes her swallow again, harder.
“Of course I do,” she says briskly. “I’m not an idiot. The positives outweighed the negatives.”
//
“Atlas are taking me on for their next Operation.”
Cinder is on her desk again. She takes a long drag of her cigarette, lets the smoke billow out through her lips before replying. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“It’s confidential,” Winter says, “but I’m asking for your help. You should be honoured.”
Cinder snorts. “I don’t work for cops.”
“We aren’t cops. Believe me, I checked.” She rests her chin on her hand, looking up at Cinder and the smoke drifting up to the top of the room. “You’d need to pretend to be my wife.”
She coughs, nearly drops the cigarette. Winter pushes the ashtray towards her wordlessly. “You — what? Huh? You want us to play happy families while you, what, run around shooting at people with guns?”
“We’re infiltrating a school. So, yes, happy families. I have —” she pauses, looks away. “I’ve been assigned a daughter. Penny. You’d like her.”
“You’re only asking me because you know I’m wildly attracted to you,” Cinder says defensively.
“I’m asking you because when you put on the costume you’re terrifying,” Winter mutters.
“Oh, you think?”
“It’s not entirely a compliment. I’d probably need your assistance throughout the course of the mission.”
Cinder looks at her, really looks at her, haloed by the overhead light with smoke curling from her lips, and for a moment she seems almost deific — “Do I have to pretend to be a housewife?”
“You can do whatever you want. Within reason, obviously.”
She smiles. Winter’s breath catches in her throat. “Then I’m in. Mrs Schnee sounds nice, don’t you think?”