Movement

Chapter Fifteen.

"Your hair is so long."

"I'm going to grow it all the way down to my waist."

Brady grinned at this, chuckling as she continued to tenderly braid the curls at the back of Harry's scalp. Her legs were wrapped around him as she sat behind him on the hospital bed, his back pressed against her chest- albeit hunched, so she was able to reach due to their height difference.

It was then three weeks since the incident, and although she felt happy in that moment- sitting there with him, braiding his hair as if they were two middle schoolers- she was anything but thrilled about life outside of the hospital.

Going to work without the promise of seeing her boyfriend was bad enough, but for some reason, Tomlinson was doing his best in ensuring that Brady's life was made a living Hell. He sneered at her from across the room, made her stay later hours, and went out of his way to ensure that Brady was indeed, one-hundred-percent miserable.

It was a few days prior to this that really was the last straw. The clock had finally struck 5pm and Brady was packing her laptop into her bag as Tomlinson rounded the corner and caught sight of her figure. With a smirk, he called her name.

"Yes?" Brady had sighed, turning her head to look over at him. Tomlinson crossed his arms.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Brady frowned, her left eyebrow arching, "home? It's the end of my shift," she'd responded coolly. She caught the petty smirk on Tomlinson's face.

"Change of plans, Allen. I need you to write up a report by the end of the night entailing our new lead on that drug ring in the Lower East Side. Think you can handle it?"

"But," Brady scoffed, her eyebrows coming together, "I stayed late last night, sir. I.. I wanted to go check on Harry at the hospital, I didn't get to see him last night because I was doing surveillance all night," she urged, her voice becoming louder. All Tomlinson heard was whining.

He raised his eyebrows and stalked towards her desk, standing way too close for her comfort as he pulled her laptop out of her bag and placed it on the table.

"I'm sorry, Allen, but it seems as though you have a bit of a nasty habit with trying to disobey my orders," he spat, hunching over to look her in the eye, "your boyfriend is fine, he's recovering from a trivial fucking gunshot wound and he's alive and well. You, on the other hand, will be out of a job if you don't send me this report by midnight tonight. Is that understood?"

Her eyes narrowed and her lip curled up in disgust as she looked back into his eyes. She wanted to tell him to just fucking fire her, if that's how he felt. She didn't want this fucking job anyways. But, and I say this as the omniscient voice of this story who knows that although unbeknownst to Brady at that moment, she still had more time before she broke her cool exterior and stood up for herself as she so rightfully deserved.

Instead, she stayed at the office that night and didn't get to send her 14 page report until twenty minutes 'til midnight. She ended up staying the night there, taking a five-hour nap at her desk and waking up with a piece of computer paper stuck to her cheek.

Sitting there with Harry, though, was all the peace that she truly needed. Earlier she had painted his nails a sweet shade of baby blue and then he asked her to braid his hair, to which she grinned and immediately obliged to, finding comfort in the scent of his hair and the feeling of his back against her chest.

"They said I should be discharged in the next few days, but I probably won't be back on the field for about a month," he drawled, the relaxing feeling of her fingers in his hair slurring his speech to the point that he almost sounded intoxicated. Could've also been the pain killers in his bloodstream.