Chapter Text
The fall morning was dark and Vissa’s phone was buzzing with her alarm, but she was already awake, cuddling close to Till’s burly chest. He groaned his protest as she reached for her phone to silence the alarm.
“I don’t want you to go,” He murmured, as he nuzzled his lips into the back of her neck.
“I know, höpönassu,”
“Finnish pet names are weird,” Till relented, letting her give him one last kiss before she rose, stretching to the ceiling.
“It means silly face. Which is what you have.” Vissa teased as she made her way to the bathroom to start her morning routine, only slightly hindered by Till’s presence. To be fair, she was very culpable for the delay, seeking out kisses because she knew she wouldn't have Till around indefinitely.
By the time she was ready to leave, she had no time for her usual coffee and cigarette if she was going to make it to work on time. She had to hustle downtown on a tram to make it on time, and found a tired-looking Einvar outside of the building, smoking.
“Damn, Ei, you look rough,” Vissa commented dryly, taking a dark green notebook from him as she lit her own cigarette. She tucked the book into her tote, alongside her own notebooks and tablet.
“You don’t look much better - did you sleep last night?”
“Nope. You?”
“No. Shit got crazy after midnight.”
“Doesn’t it always?” Vissa reached up to give Einvar’s shoulder a squeeze. “You should go to bed, Einvar. Really. I can take Friday too, I know Mikka is out,”
“You can take over for your shift. I’ll be back.” He covered her hand with his, eyes distant as he smoked. She opened her mouth to protest, but he focused on her with a kind smile. “Don’t. You have Till to be with this weekend. I don’t have anyone as pressing. And I’m tougher than you think.”
“I think you work too much.” She grumbled, realizing one that moment exactly how attached she was to the scarred man. Vissa sighed, her hand still high on his thick shoulder. “I talked to Till. About the Block. There’s a chance... this weekend.”
“Where do they think she is?” Einvar’s gaze was sharp, his voice low as he cast something to obfuscate their conversation.
“Up north. Lapland somewhere.”
“I need to call them.” His voice was distant, like his mind was racing. It probably was.
“Why? You know something?”
“I’m not sure. But it could be useful knowledge.” He guided her hand off his shoulder, squeezing her fingers for a moment longer than he should have as her boss. “Go on, run my newsroom. I’ll see you tonight.”
Vissa watched him walk away as she finished her cigarette, weighing the notebook in her hand. In it she would find his notes about the evening’s news so she wouldn’t have to read everything at the beginning of her shift. The book was a helpful way Einvar had come up with to manage his newsroom.
As editor, she was in charge in his stead. Thursday was always a heavy day for her in the newsroom - setting up for Friday, wrapping up most of the week. She always left feeling accomplished for having steered the ship of more than thirty. Thursday and Friday were technically Einvar’s days off, but he was never far. He was supposed to be out Saturday as well, but rare was the Saturday she was able to make him stay in bed.
Still, Monday through Thursday with one weekend a month on wasn’t a bad way to live, no matter how early her shifts started and how late they went. Aside from Thursday, Vissa’s days were spent learning from Einvar in more ways than one, and sometimes it was nice to fall into bed with the scarred man, wake up in the morning, and go to the same place pretending nothing had happened between them. They certainly acted more familiar with each other than some of their coworkers, but the only ones who even suspected the nature of their relationship were the handful of Others they worked with. From what she could glean without poking around in their heads, the mortals had no clue about her relationship with Einvar.
At the end of her shift, Vissa spent some time writing in Einvar’s notebook, only slightly annoyed that it was ruled rather than dotted like she preferred. She sat with a cup of coffee, considering the timeline of the shift. Usually she wrote everything down during the course of the day, but today had been too hectic to allow her to pause. It was very helpful to note what had happened when if she could remember it, and it was a courtesy he and the other editor, Mikka, returned for her.
Vissa had made good progress when her phone buzzed. It was Ville, asking where she was. Vissa ignored it - she was almost fucking done was where she was and he knew it. Just a few more lines and she would be able to leave the book on Einvar's desk. It was strange that Einvar hadn’t come to take the conn back from her, she mused as she considered the last hour or so of the day.
Vissa’s phone buzzed again, and she glanced over at it with a raised eyebrow. This time, when she glanced at the phone, she had a missed call from Till. God, those assholes. They truly didn’t understand how much she valued her mortal job.
Setting the pen down beside the book, she stretched as she considered the page, flipping back to the first page of her writing, where Einvar’s day ran out and hers began. She had done the best she could with time stamps today, despite the fact that she hadn’t been writing in the book consistently all day. It was going to drive Einvar nuts tonight, but he would manage.
Vissa picked up the book, skimming her entry as the newsroom door opened, emitting a beam of light across the dark newsroom. The newsroom was largely empty as she gazed across it, running a skeleton crew for the graveyard shift, and that skeleton crew was always grumpy. They were probably avoiding the light.
Through the glass walls of the soundproof office she shared with Einvar and Mikka, Vissa could see a tall figure making his way to the office, picking his way around the desks, pausing to talk to certain staff as he made his way toward the office. Einvar, finally. Normally she’d try to meet him outside with a cigarette but they both had missed their normal window. She was almost done with her review and nothing was happening, maybe they could go out for one together.
Vissa’s fucking phone was ringing again, and she snatched it up, answering it angrily.
“Can I just have a minute to -“
“Vissa.” The voice was Einvar’s, and it was tense as she had ever heard it. Out of breath.
“Why are you calling me when you’re in the newsroom? Did you forget your office key?” She found herself making her way toward the glass door of the office, the notebook tucked under her arm.
“I’m not there, that’s not me.”