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Peterson rarely visited Hathaway and Lewis's shared office, so Lewis was surprised to see him there today.
"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," Peterson announced, certain as always of his own importance.
"I suppose," Lewis said indifferently, knowing Peterson would miss the sarcasm but that Hathaway, at least, would enjoy it. A quiet snort of laughter from Hathaway's corner told Lewis he wasn't wrong.
"My usual bagman's just transferred to the met," Peterson said. "So I've requested that Sergeant Hathaway be reassigned to me."
Hathaway said nothing, but Lewis could see his shoulders tense. "With all due respect…"
"With all due respect, Sergeant," Peterson said, putting a bit of extra stress on Hathaway's rank, "I've run this by the Chief Superintendent, and it's her decision to make, not yours."
"Is it," Hathaway said, with a tone of voice that Lewis recognised as dangerous.
Peterson was too fixated on posturing to notice. "It is."
"Interesting," Hathaway said, standing. He nodded to Lewis. "If you'll excuse me, sir." He turned to Peterson, ice coating his tone. "Inspector." He brushed past them both and left the office.
Peterson looked in the direction Hathaway had gone, then back at Lewis. "What was that?"
"I think," Lewis said, as innocently as he could manage, "Sergeant Hathaway just exercised his free will."
Peterson looked perplexed, and Lewis didn't blame him. Sometimes Hathaway was a law unto himself.
***
Peterson had gone by the time Hathaway returned. Technically, it was time both of them left, but Lewis waited.
"Talk to Innocent?" Lewis asked.
"Yes." Hathaway slid into his chair.
"Want to tell me about it?"
"No."
Lewis simply waited.
Hathaway sighed. "I expressed my lack of interest in working for anyone but you. Innocent expressed her lack of interest in me working for anyone but Peterson. So I expressed my lack of interest in working here."
It took Lewis a moment to parse Hathaway's statement. "You resigned?"
Hathaway nodded, mouth set. "I resigned."
Lewis couldn't say anything…least of all because he'd felt just as uneasy at the idea of Hathaway partnering with Peterson.
"Right," Lewis said.
Hathaway blinked at him, frowning. "Right?"
"I think," Lewis said, "you should come with me and have something to eat."
Hathaway looked vaguely put off. "Sir…"
"I'm not cooking," Lewis said with mock exasperation. "I mean down the pub."
"Oh," Hathaway said, relaxing minimally. "Thank you, sir. I'd be delighted."
***
Lewis couldn't help noticing Hathaway was drinking rather more than he was eating, and doing both of those more than he was talking.
At the bottom of his third beer, Hathaway finally spoke. "This isn't like me."
"What, having dinner with me?"
"Resigning." Hathaway shook his head. "I didn't think. I always think." He paused. "No. That's wrong. I did think. I thought about you."
"What about me?" Lewis asked, surprised.
"That I don't want to do this job. The reason I do it is so I can see you every day," Hathaway said.
Bloody hell. Hathaway must be more drunk than Lewis had thought if he was admitting that. Lewis knew he should answer, but what to say? And how to say it?
"I won't say…" Lewis struggled to put this in just the right way. "I won't lie. First thing I felt when you said you'd resigned was relief."
Hathaway looked hurt. "Relief."
"I was worried," Lewis said quietly.
"About?"
"That he wouldn't take care of you," Lewis said. "But mainly…mainly that you'd like him better than me."
Hathaway shook his head, reaching across the table to touch Lewis's hand. "That would never happen."
"He's clever, Peterson," Lewis said. "He knows how to make himself and anyone working with him look good. He gets people advanced through the ranks."
"I don't care about that," Hathaway said.
Lewis looked at Hathaway, but the other man was completely earnest. He'd caught Hathaway lying before; this wasn't a lie.
"I know that now," Lewis answered, folding his hand around Hathaway's.
Hathaway smiled at him. "Did you notice we're holding hands?"
Lewis looked away quickly, not wanting to say how much he'd noticed.
"Sir?" The word was a sentence in Hathaway's voice. A question.
"Sorry," Lewis whispered, pulling his hand away.
Hathaway caught Lewis's hand and held it. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Lewis shook his head. "You work for me. It's harassment."
"I don't work for you now," Hathaway said, almost playful.
Lewis met his eyes. "No."
The silence between them was charged. They'd reached some sort of understanding almost without realising it. The only question was what they were going to do about it.
"Possibly I'm assuming too much," Hathaway said, "but what do you think about me coming home with you?"
Lewis smiled. "I think it's the best idea you've had all day."
Hathaway's resulting smile, unusually for him, touched his eyes.
***
They agreed on the way home that neither of them was prepared to be physical with each other tonight, so they decided to lie next to each other on Lewis's bed, hands touching.
"I don't know what I'll do," Hathaway murmured, staring at the ceiling.
"Are you worried?" Lewis asked, turning his head to look at Hathaway.
Hathaway nodded silently.
"You don't have to know right now," Lewis said. "And I'll help any way I can."
Hathaway nodded again. "It didn't fit me any more. You do understand?"
"Of course I do," Lewis said.
Hathaway was silent for a long while. "I've never been very good at finding a future for myself."
Lewis glanced at him. "You found me."
Hathaway smiled, meeting Lewis's gaze. "I did find you." His face looked softer when he smiled; he was all angles when he was upset or anxious. Hathaway rolled onto his side so he was facing Lewis. "Are you my future?"
Lewis turned to face Hathaway. "I hope so."
Hathaway seemed to be weighing and measuring his words before he released them into the wild. "I think…if you're in my future…then I won't need to worry as much."
Lewis smiled. "That's all I could ask for really."
Hathaway smiled and nodded in agreement, stifling a yawn.
"You must be tired," Lewis said gently. "Get some rest, pet. We'll talk tomorrow."
Hathaway nodded. "All right. Goodnight…Robbie."
Lewis felt peculiarly pleased being addressed by his first name. He squeezed the hand in his. "Goodnight, James."