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Fade into you.

Summary:

Jo Master’s younger sister has a crush on none other than Mickey Webb.

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Stacey Masters had always been in her sisters shadow. Jo was 15 when Stacey was born, and almost everyone mistook Stacey for her daughter.

She loved her sister, of course she did.

But when every conversation involved someone asking if Joanne was the mother to her sister, she detested it.

 

Stacey found herself outside of Sun Hill Police Station on a sunny afternoon, fake tan, sunglasses pushed back against her hair.

She didn’t know why she went to Sun Hill that particular day, but something dragged her there.

She’d already been acquainted with most of the officers that worked with her sister, but there was one she liked the most.

And that was Mickey Webb.

Not Zain, who would be an absolute twat to her every time her sister would have an event.

Not Phil, who thought cheesy pick up lines was the way to go with women.

And especially not Stuart, who thought dowsing himself in aftershave would bound to make him have at least one woman fall for him.

Mickey Webb

Mickey was kind, caring, attentive.

Stacey liked that.

She liked that he could be honest with her, liked that he didn’t treat her like a piece of meat.

Liked that he treated her as just.

Stacey Masters .

Jo stepped out of the station, slipping on her jacket. She’d just finished shift.

Behind her, Mickey Webb trailed with Terry Perkins.

Stacey skipped over.

“Hiya!” she waved, smiling brightly.

Mickey smiled back. “Alright?”

Jo frowned. “What’re you doing here?” she quizzed, folding her arms.

“Do you wanna go for a drink?” Stacey suggested. She turned to Mickey. “And you guys too?”

Mickey nodded. “Uh, yeah, okay.”

Stacey grinned.

Terry smiled. “Sure.”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Jo nodded. “Seven Bells?”

“Perfect.” Stacey replied, interlinking arms with her sister.

She glanced back at Mickey, smiling again.

Terry smirked as she looked back. “Reckon she fancies you.” he whispered as he nudged Mickey’s shoulder.

Mickey frowned. “Stacey?” he shocked, turning to Terry. “Nah, she’s just overly nice, ain’t she?”

Terry shrugged. “I don’t know, mate…she seemed very happy to see you.”

Mickey was quick to defend. “She doesn’t fancy me !” he gasped, shaking his head. “She’s more a Phil girl, ain’t she?” he sighed. “She likes guys who are forward.”

Terry shook his head. “She gags at the thought of Phil, thinks he’s a total prick .” Terry claimed, wrapping an arm around Mickey. “I reckon she fancies you.”

————-

Stacey stepped out of the Seven Bells later that night, her jacket slipped around her shoulders.

Mickey stepped out after her, flicking open a lighter.

He didn’t smoke.

He hated it.

But it was freezing, and nicking Zain’s cigarettes was a last resort.

“Alright?” Stacey smiled, shivering.

Mickey nodded, stepping forward. “Want some?” he asked, holding the lit cigarette out.

Stacey reluctantly took it, her carmine lipstick dying the white paper. She inhaled it slowly before letting out a cough.

“I hate cigs.” she coughed, shaking her head as she passed it back to Mickey.

Mickey froze for a moment before taking it back.

“So do I, but it’s brass monkeys out here.” he chuckled, sitting himself down next to Stacey.

Stacey let out a soft giggle. “Yeah, it really is.” she turned to him, her expression soft.

There was a brief silence before Mickey spoke up again. “Terry seems to think that you have a crush on me.” he blurted out, immediately regretting what he just said.

He turned away, his face beet red.

Stacey blinked. “What?”

Mickey shook his head. “Ignore me, it’s silly.”

“Mickey, look at me.”

Mickey awkwardly turned his head, his face still that beet red colour.

“Terry thinks I fancy you?” she smirked, tilting her head.

“I said it was a stupid idea—”

Before Mickey could finish his sentence, Stacey’s lips were on his.

It was a shock at first, something he didn’t expect. But as their kiss deepened, he seemed to quite enjoy it.

The sweet taste of pineapple filled his mouth as she kissed him harder, her hands tangling in his hair. She was wearing a perfume he couldn’t quite figure out, something vanilla. And her hair smelt beautifully of mango.

She pulled back, wiping his lips with her thumb. “Do you still think Terry was wrong?”

Mickey shook his head. “N-no…not at all.” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.