Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Looking back, Ellie was surprised that she lasted as long as she did before the house of cards she'd insisted on building for the two of them collapsed. If she'd been a betting woman, she would've given herself six months before she brought it all crashing down on them, but she left the betting to Lucy and it looked like they were both were equally bad at it. A year, a whole year of cases, conversations, car trips, and even one birthday dinner before it was all over.

She and Hardy were leaving a call out, driving out of East Bexington on a bright but cold and windy afternoon. It was faster to take the narrow coastal road back to Broadchurch rather than detour back to the main road. The gusts buffeted the car and the sea shone brilliantly to her right, the hills rolling and green to her left. It would've been a nice drive if she hadn't been so annoyed about it all.

It had all begun with an argument like any one of the many they'd had over the years. Hardy wanted to go visit their reluctant victim's family members to question them right away and she wanted to wait a day and to interview the victim again before proceeding. Something about the story regarding just how the items had gone missing that the victim claimed were stolen from her shed wasn’t adding up. The argument started in the house when he'd gone to snoop under the guise of making tea and had left her to talk to the victim. Just like they'd done before. Ellie had found him in the kitchen, staring at family photos taped to the kitchen cabinets and ignoring the kettle.

"Who are they?" He'd asked her, pointing at the photos.

She furrowed her brow and looked at the photos before shrugging and elbowing him out of the way so she could finish making the tea. "Family? Isn't that whose pictures you normally put up in the kitchen?"

"Is it?" he'd asked, distracted.

"Well, normal people, yeah," she'd tossed at him over her shoulder as she left the room with two mugs. She'd left one for him on the counter. He picked it up and then raised his phone to take a few pictures of the photos on the cabinets. Something was bothering him about them.

"Something's not adding up," she said to him as she negotiated backing the car away from the house and out onto the narrow drive that would lead to the road back to Broadchurch. "I want to run through the questions with the victim again, tomorrow, maybe in a different setting, see if the answers change."

"There's something about those pictures, Miller," he said.

She grunted in response, concentrating on making the turn onto the main road. "We can talk to the family after we interview her again," she said, finally, after a few minutes.

"No," he'd replied before he'd even really thought about it. It had devolved from there, not taking long before the discussion had grown strident and loud in the confined space.

"We need to talk to the family before she-" he insisted, gesturing emphatically.

"I know what you think we need to do, what I am telling you is that-" She thumped her hand on the steering wheel, tired of the fact that he wasn't listening to her.

"I don't want to lose valuable investigation time waiting for her to change-"

"I know that," she interrupted. "But I think we will get a better understanding of what happened-"

He was talking over her before she could complete her thought. "But is it worth the-"

"Would you just fucking listen to me and trust me for one bloody minute." She was fuming at him, the confined space tight and oppressive, the bright sun making her squint and giving her a headache, and the wind was strong enough to catch against the car and startle her.

"I won't have you going and getting too close to the victim again, DS Miller, just follow procedure."

That was the last thing she needed to hear from him. "You know what, sir? Go fuck yourself."

These days, he only brought up her friendliness when it could be weaponized against her and it pissed her off. She knew he used her and her ability to connect with the victims and suspects alike through her empathy as a way to soften his own brusque approach, but her empathy seemed to annoy him more than anything these days, and that made her angry. It made her question her abilities as a detective and resent her role on their team. She'd had enough.

She slammed both hands down on the steering wheel in frustration. "I'm good at my job as you so often remind me. I'm a good detective." There wasn't another soul out here to worry about, but still, she wasn't going to be interrupted with what she had to say to him. She pulled the car over and gripped the wheel tight, glaring out at the windshield at the grasses whipping on the hillsides.

Suddenly the car was too hot, too close, too tight. Throwing open her door, she practically fell out in her haste to get out of the car. It was satisfying to slam it shut with a shout of frustration. He'd exited the car too and was glaring at her over the top of it, fury darkening his features.

"You want to go there, Miller?" He shouted at her. "Yes, you're a bloody fantastic detective, but what you lack is distance, perspective, you're too close. You make yourself too close." He swept a hand out, encompassing her, the car, the empty road, and the whole wide sea beside them. "You lead with your heart, Miller." He paused and pressed his lips together. "You have since the beginning. Just trust me on this one."

"Just trust you on this one? What's so special about this one? Why are you fighting with me over this one?" Tears of fury stung her eyes.

He put his hands on his hips and pressing his lips together looked around at everything but her.

She scoffed at his lack of response. "Since the beginning? Since the fucking beginning?" She shouted. She shoved off from the car, stalking around the front towards him. "You mean our first case where my husband turned out to be a pedophile? That beginning? The one where an asshole stole my job while I was on holiday, my son's best friend was dead, and turns out I was married to the fucking monster that killed him?"

"Ellie…" He at least at the good sense to look horrified.

"Don't you call me Ellie!" She ground out, wrapping her arms tight around her body. She leaned over the bonnet of the car, swallowing down sobs. He faced her, close enough that his body blocked the wind, that she could see there was a loose thread hanging from one of his buttons, that the right side of his suit coat hung heavy with his phone in the pocket. His hands hung at his sides.

"Miller-" His voice was low and broken.

She had no patience for his pain.

"That was low, even for you," she bit out. She had a distinct feeling that hadn't been what he'd meant; that she was being unfair. She ached with a hurt that wasn't about their argument, or their sometimes acrimonious working relationship, or even their carefully managed friendship. She trusted his kindness, his intentions, and his heart. The anger felt good and she grasped at it even as she felt it slipping through her fingers. She hadn't had a chance yet to be angry at him. It didn't hurt as bad as regret, longing, or the bittersweet ache of need she still felt keenly despite her best efforts. The tears had spilled over and she swiped at them, frustrated.

"Please, love," he says. It just slipped out.

The both went still, eyes wide in shock.

He turned and put both hands on the bonnet of the car, hanging his head. "Aw, shit," he muttered under his breath.

The anger froze sharp and cold inside her. It'd been a year and it was him who broke first. It was Alec Hardy that brought her house of cards crashing down.

"What?" she choked out into the stunned silence. "Love? Did you just call me love?" She is unable to wrap her head around it or decide what was more stunning about it. The fact that the sentiment existed, still, or the fact that Detective Inspector Alec Hardy, who had never been anything but one hundred percent respectful and careful around her since they had agreed not to pursue anything, still thought of her in such a way that a 'love' could slip out in his speech.

"Please, Miller....just drop it." He said, stuttering over her name. He sounded defeated.

"And it's Miller again?" She crossed her arms. She wasn't done arguing this. "I've been nothing but Millah," she dropped the 'r' in a mockery of his accent. "For an entire fucking year and suddenly Ellie and please, love?"

He looked up at her. She was taken aback by the expression in his eyes. Regret, frustration, defeat.

She sighed and turned her face away from him, looking down the empty road in an effort to collect her thoughts. She crossed her arms tighter and turned to lean against the bonnet of the car, staring down the empty road in front of her. He took the two steps around from his side and turned to stand next to her, facing down the same empty road, stiff and careful.

She could get back in the car and not say another word and he would follow her lead. He'd apologize to her, eventually, she knew. But it would be in his own way, most likely, not tripping from his lips awkwardly, but in gentle gestures and skittering glances that would cut deeper. For now though, for now he'd wait and take cues from her. Just as he always did. Joe hadn't been like that.

Alec would ask her if she was all right in his careful, kind way. He'd look at her like she was broken and he'd make some gesture to pat her gently on the shoulder before he'd remember that he didn't touch her, that he had avoided touching her for a year, and he'd drop his hand awkwardly before it made contact. He'd buy her a cup of coffee, some chips, he'd leave her be, he'd create even more distance between them, any of that or all of it, if that's what he thought she wanted.

So he waited, standing there, still except for the whipping of his coat and hair in the wind, for her to tell him what she wanted.

She sniffed. What she wanted was a goddamned hug.

She tried to reach for that anger, to find it again, to feel the burn.

"You great big bloody wanker," she said, too tired to give it any real bite.

She was desperate to have him take it back, to take the whole discussion back, to go back and agree with him just to prevent this all from happening. Even if he was wrong. But she couldn't find it, the anger, the distance she'd spent a year clinging to, or even the will to back down from the argument. She curled her fists and poured a year of frustration, two years of anger, three of defeat, and what felt like a lifetime of grief into the feel of her nails biting into her palms.

It held the tears at bay, but it didn't work. She wasn't being fair, she knew. She wasn't angry at him, not really. She was angry at everything else. At Joe, at Tess, at everyone else for fucking this up for them. She'd wanted it, a year ago and perhaps even before then, but she hadn't been able to see a way through with him or with anyone. Life hadn't gotten any easier and she had hoped that time would dull her want. But it hadn't and with one word, one simple little word that had just slipped out, he had destroyed all the careful work she had done in order to pretend it would be ok. And it wasn't even his fault. He didn't even mean to.

He dropped his hands and set them on the bonnet, leaning back on them, elbow just brushing her suit coat.

She choked down sudden tears.

"Fuck, Ellie, I'm so sorry." He looked stricken and lost and she began crying in earnest.

"I don't know what to do." He turned towards her. The wind nearly stole the words from her ears. The raw truth of them were comforting, in a way.

"I think I'd like a hug," she choked out, through the tears.

He looked stunned, but reached, hesitant at first, but then more sure as he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest. His coat whipped around them both and he hung on to her tightly, arm around her shoulder and one snug around her waist.

"Do you really feel that way?" she asked him, both arms wrapped tight around his waist and holding on to him as if for dear life.

He sighed, and rubbed her back, gently, before answering. "If I tell you it's just a friendly Scottish affection, would you believe me?"

She snorted and she felt him chuckle. He was still giving her a chance to step back, to let the moment pass, to give them both a chance to take a deep breath and pretend like it had never happened. She knew if she did, he'd never slip again around her, that would be it. Alec Hardy didn't do vulnerable well. He was vulnerable now, and if she said no to him in this moment he'd never resent her for it, but the door would be closed forever.

"God, I hate you," she sighed, leaning back to look up at him. His arms loosened enough to let in a bit of space between them, but he didn't let her go.

He smiled at her sadly. She'd said it without malice, but she really did hate him for feeling that way about her this whole time and never once telling her. Ellie had drawn a line in the sand between them more than once and every time he'd respected it. While she'd always been the one to step over it, when she'd drawn it for the last time that morning after he returned to Broadchurch in his bedroom when the only furniture had been an air mattress on the floor, he had respected it once again.

"I once called my teacher mum," she said with a chuckle. "Still wince when I think about it."

He rolled his eyes at her at her then looked up and over her shoulder. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Not the same, Miller."

"No," she agreed, stepping out of his arms, reluctantly. Wrapping her arms around herself again, she looked up at him. He stood there, patiently waiting on what she would say next. She shook her head affectionately, but her expression was still tight and pinched.

The moment stretched thin. "I have no idea how this would work," she confessed, right before the moment would have snapped and been lost.

"Neither do I," he said.

"And I don't really trust myself, after Joe…" She wasn't sure how much her tumbling into bed with Hardy was part of that lack of trust in herself. "There's my boys and then there's me. I don't have anything to offer anyone."

He made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat, but a soft smile tugged at his lips all the same. Hardy had whispered what he thought of her into her mouth, neck, and belly, in both the dark of hotel rooms and the quiet stillness of his own bedroom. She'd heard him, even if she pretended she hadn't.

"But you want to try anyway? You think we can make this work? That it will be alright?" she finally asked. She needed him to say it, she realized, because while she didn't trust herself, she trusted him. He hadn't said it, hadn't argued with her when she'd told him she didn't think it was a good idea, and now she needed him to. She needed him to tell her he wanted this.

"But I want to try anyway," he confirmed, softly. It was a promise.

She nodded, tears threatening to fall again. His look softened and he reached out a hand to grasp her fingers, pulling her in for another hug. She clung to him and he held her fiercely, one hand buried in her hair, the other wrapped tightly around her waist.

They both stepped away from each other after a moment, as if by mutual agreement. He let her slide through his hands, but clung to her fingers before she slipped away entirely. He squeezed her fingers, and leaned forward. Twice since they had ended their affair over a year ago, he had ducked his head and brushed his lips against her cheek in a friendly gesture. But today he pressed his lips against hers in a soft kiss.

It lingered just long enough to not be chaste, but their mouths stayed soft and closed and the kiss merely rode the razor thin edge turning into something more.

They turned and walked back around to their respective sides of the car and got in.

"We'll do it your way, talk to the family now," she said, after she pulled back on the road back to Broadchurch, continuing the discussion that had been paused on the side of the road.

He sighed and shook his head. "No, you're right. Let's try it your way first. We don't have anything to lose by it and if it doesn't go well it won't risk the case like my idea would."

She smirked. She knew she'd been right all along.

He was quiet for many long minutes, staring out the window. He had something to say, she could tell, and time had taught her to be patient and just let him say it even if she only managed to do so half the time.

Finally, just when she was ready to snap him to just say it already, he sighed.

"Don't ever agree with me just because of this," he said softly, waving a hand vaguely between the two of them..

"I didn't," she replied, the anger flaring bright and hot. He turned his head a little too sharply and she realized he hadn't expected her answer. "I didn't," she insisted. "I thought perhaps I was missing something, the way you were so insistent. I was trusting you, not agreeing with you."

He nodded, and she could feel his eyes steady on her. She kept hers firmly on the road, aware that this conversation had broader implications for whether or not they'd be able to make this work than the argument on the road. He was no less broken by his past relationship than she was. His had nearly killed him, and it wasn't his cheating wife, but rather the way his wife's affair had nearly destroyed three people's careers, lost him years of his daughter's life, and broken a family when he couldn't provide answers to their daughter's death. She wouldn't do that to him, but she knew he had as much at stake as she did. When he agreed, a year ago, to not pursue this, it was a mutual decision for all the right reasons. Doing this now couldn't be for the wrong ones.

But he nodded and settled back in his seat, staring out at the road in front of him. He trusted her. Perhaps it was somehow capable of being alright.

Chapter Text

They had a very strict Not At Work policy regarding any sort of affection, publicly displayed or not. It wasn't something they had explicitly discussed, but years of interacting at work had created habits that were hard to break.

For her, it was her boss, her life, and the reminder of the threads of truth hidden deep within the accusation of a non-existent affair which tainted the case against Joe.

For him, it was the spectre of Tess and Dave. The conclusion of Sandbrook had fueled months of gossip and speculation, more virulent for the sake that he wasn't there to defend himself for two years. Everyone had an opinion on how they would have handled it. Only Ellie could understand how much he'd believed that he'd done the best he could for everyone involved. She hated that he'd nearly killed himself over it and then had the audacity to drag her into it during Joe's trial, but now, with years of distance and perspective, she understood.

She wasn't sure whether or not the whole Shitface thing would be improved or not by the news that they were sleeping together. Nor was she really interested in finding out. Not that they were sleeping together at the moment and that in itself was a large part of the overall problem. There'd been no more than that kiss on the windswept hill above the bright broad sea.

It was an auspicious beginning to something that felt so bloody fantastic. But, she supposed, that was probably for the best. She wouldn't have believed in it if it had started any other way. Didn't make it any less frustrating.

She was so consumed by trying to figure out when she could simply kiss him again without work, their children, or anything else interfering that she nearly missed the signs that things had changed.

There was a cup of coffee on her desk the morning after the fight in the car, placed there gently with a soft brush against her shoulder and she watched his back disappear into his office. She'd saved her smile until she'd lifted the mug to take a sip so that no one else would see it. He'd even remembered the milk and the cinnamon.

She made a mental note to thank him, quietly, meaningfully, but he'd assigned her to take their newest DC for training, so that during the morning roll call she'd found herself explaining procedure in a drizzle at the caravan park and then investigating a break-in for most of the morning.

He was in meetings most of the afternoon and wasn't able to do anything more than nod and give her a half-wave as she gathered up her things to leave for the day at five. She was charged extra for every minute she was late collecting Fred from his after school club, and she'd promised her dad she would do it this evening so that he could have an evening down at the pub.

She checked her phone after she'd pulled into the drive at the house.

How's New Katie?

Jessica will be fine. I'm surprised you didn't call her New New Marcus

who is Marcus?

wanker

She smiled and tucked it away, not able to ignore Fred's increasingly insistent demands from the back that he be released from his car seat and taken inside. He'd already undone the top clips and was working furiously on the bottom when she got to him.

She was able to check her phone again after she'd set a plate of reheated pad thai noodles in front of Fred. Hardy's response had come through only minutes ago.

Marcus Stewart, DC before we hired Katie

I know you looked that up, nice try

She tucked her phone away again.

It was just her and Fred tonight and she wanted to spend some quality time with him. After a stack of books, plenty of legos, some serious coloring, and a very long bath that left her almost as damp as he was, she finally tucked him in for the night and headed back downstairs to her phone. She was thinking about phoning down to the pub to see if her dad needed a lift home or he'd be all right to walk. But Tom was due home any minute and she'd have to wait until Tom was home anyway, she supposed. She settled in on the couch to wait.

She scrolled through her rather short Twitter feed, it only taking her a few minutes to reach the spot she'd read to in her timeline last night. She checked in on a few feeds she didn't follow - Olly's, Karen White, and that actor she really liked but was embarrassed to admit it - and then sighed. Television was a possibility, she supposed, or a book. She wasn't sure she had the energy.

A text notification interrupted her ennui.

Daisy just tried to explain something called a meme to me? Is this something kids are in to? Or is she just having a go at me?

Ellie laughed out loud. Bless him.

Before she could really think about it, she clicked through to his name in her contacts and hit send on his mobile number

"Hey," he answered after only two rings.

"What time did you actually leave?" She asked, smiling.

"In time for dinner," he answered, a bit defensively.

She laughed at him. "Which one did she show you?"

"What?" He seemed confused and slightly distracted.

"Which meme?" She clarified as she listened to him shuffle just enough that he must've been settling in on his own sofa .

"Now you're both having a go at me!" Ellie could hear Daisy's laughter in the background, bright and happy.

"You're being this way on purpose," she snickered. "You can't tell me you've never seen a meme before."

He described what Daisy had been trying to show him and Ellie enjoyed his increasingly strained attempt to describe both the picture and text and what Daisy had said it meant when finally she took pity on him and through her chuckles explained the Distracted Boyfriend meme to him.

"How do you know about this?" He asked, suspiciously.

"I have a teenage boy, Hardy, or have you forgotten? The question is, how do you not know about this?"

He grumbled, but offered no other response.

She put her feet up on the ottoman and wiggled her toes in her socks. She'd put leggings on earlier, just in case she had to go back out to get her dad, but she'd put on a loose top and a housecoat over that. The sofa was comfortable and she was settling in. It seemed like Hardy was interested in a chat and she had nothing better to do.

"You're lucky you got away with that one," she continued. "I had to look up 'right in front of my salad' after Tom went to bed the other night and that one was decidedly not safe for work."

"Not safe for work?" He sounded slightly suspicious, but also distracted. She imagined he was pulling out case files, or flipping through channels, relaxed enough to chat with her with only half his attention.

"Seriously?" She questioned, wondering if she should accuse him of having a go at her.

"What?"

"Oh my god. Just ask Daisy."

"Can't, love. She's doing her schoolwork and I mustn't interrupt or I'll be told off. Again."

Ellie's heart stuttered at the casual affection that had clearly slipped out without his notice. He was teasing her, his voice softer and easier and his vowels more rounded. She'd so rarely allowed herself moments like this with him in the past, the reminder of what she'd lost with Joe and was unable to have with Hardy despite their obvious connection made it too painful. But, the conversation flowed smoothly and easily, even with what had seemed like the insurmountable obstacle of her daily life with her dad, Tom, and Fred and the reality of being a single parent. But she had achieved this moment with him so easily and he remained Hardy through it all. She smiled, this was going to be alright.

"Just don't look it up at work," she admonished.

"I gathered that much, highly trained detective and all that." His response was dry and amused.

"Could've fooled me. I thought you were the worst cop in Britain?" She replied without heat.

"That too. Multi-faceted as they say." She could hear his smile in his voice.

She could hear him shuffling around again for a minute before he was back, but her text notification dinged before she could think of something else to say and she asked him to hang on. He grunted in response.

It was a picture, from him. He was on his own sofa. She could make out Daisy at the kitchen table behind him, there was a scowl on his face and it was a selfie taken from a low enough angle that she could also see his shirt. It was the one she'd gotten him for his birthday with the words emblazoned across her chest.

She put the phone back to her ear and laughed.

"I'm glad you like the shirt."

"Eh, it's a shirt. Need to do laundry."

"Mmmhmm."

She could hear the back door open and looked over the back of the sofa to smile as Tom came through.

"Hey sweet," she greeted him. "There's dinner in the fridge if you'd like. Put your kit in the machine and remember homework before video games."

He rolled his eyes at her as he shuffled past in his dirty football practice gear but softened it with a smile.

"Quiet, Fred's asleep," she called out softly as he climbed the stairs, bag slung over his shoulder.

"Tom have practice tonight?" Hardy asked after a beat of silence.

"Yeah," she replied with a warm feeling pooling in her belly. It was such a simple question, genuine, thoughtful, caring, domestic. It was different and something they'd never done before, but it felt so easy and natural that she realized they'd both been holding back from this too hard to the point where they'd felt awkward and stilted around each other simply because they wouldn't allow themselves to acknowledge and be at ease with what they both obviously wanted.

"Dad is down at the pub, I'll likely have to go pick him up in about half an hour," she offered.

He chuckled in response.

"Match on?" He tried to guess.

"Worse. Trivia night."

Hardy groaned and she grinned at the sound. He hated trivia night and although she enjoyed his distress at them she secretly shared his opinion. They'd both been called out multiple times this past summer to deal with damage stemming from fights that started from a trivia night disagreement. One had even turned into a brawl and Hardy had threatened the man's license before she'd dragged him away. Three DCs had been in the crowd that night and Hardy already had enough of a reputation for not being able to behave like a normal person that she didn't need him making things worse. Even if she'd like to shred the man's license herself.

"No special favors, Miller, if your dad starts a fight."

"Nah, he's not the type to start one." She paused, for effect. "Finish it, sure, but he'll let someone else throw the first punch." She added, casually.

"I see where you get it from," he replied wryly. She could hear the affection bleeding through.

"Yeah, my mum."

He laughed at that.

"Right then, best go collect him before you have to explain to New Katie in the morning how to fill out paperwork when it's your dad in for drunk and disorderly."

"Jessica," she replied.

"Don't care," he huffed.

"Yes you do."

"Yes, I do, but I can't have them thinking I've gone soft," he grudgingly replied. "I have a reputation now."

"My secret," she crowed.

"Yours," he affirmed quietly, but with warm affection.

There was a beat of silence then. But it felt easy, like a natural end.

"Bye, Miller," he said after taking a breath. She murmured goodbye in response and then hung up the phone.

It went on like that for the rest of the week and most of the next. There wasn't anything specific she could point to about the change in his behavior other than to say he was more attentive, closer, softer. When she got up to make a cup of tea after staring at paperwork or her computer screen for too long, he would appear at her side just as often as he didn't. Tea time was usually silent as the kitchen was far too open for a chat about anything other than work.

But his shoulder might brush hers as he leaned against the counter next to her, or his fingers would whisper softly against her own as he handed her milk, or her cup, or a spoon to stir the sugar in. And then he'd thank her in a quiet voice and disappear back into his office. She'd smile into her mug and return to her desk, energized for another hour or two of work at least.

By the end of the second week she was ready to chuck the entire Not At Work policy out the door and give him a proper snog on his office desk.

They texted or talked almost every night, sometimes about work, and sometimes simply minor complaints about driving teenagers around and whether toddlers or teenage girls were more dramatic. She maintained it was toddlers. He was pretty adamant it was teenage girls. But other than the frequency and topics of their chats even that pattern was largely unchanged. They still bickered and griped and teased, but they weren't hiding behind the facade of cases or schedules to talk about their lives to each other anymore.

The conviction that what they were doing was right only lasted until the end of the week, before she was fraying at the edges. She could see him wearying of it all too, hear it in his voice when they talked, and see it in the way she caught his aborted movements when they were alone and he would almost reach for her.

That day's drive was like any other they had taken together in the last year. They'd start off chatting about work, but before long would end up on personal topics - Fred, Tom, Daisy, her dad. It struck her, now, that it was all rather domestic and how thoroughly they had entwined themselves in each other's lives. She wasn't really sure, all of a sudden, what trying this even meant to either of them beyond the addition of sex to their lives. God, she missed sex. What were they even attempting to do? Nothing, now, for three weeks. No kissing, no hugs, and certainly not sex.

They just couldn't seem to fit it into anything else, but she wondered how hard either of them were actually trying. The fact that the shifts in their every day lives had been relatively minor was in its own way, monumental to her. He was already her best friend, but the distance she had insisted on had melted away so easily she was shocked at how artificial it had been all along, how easy it was to allow herself to be cared for by another person, to acknowledge it. What was left for them other than sex? But it seemed so monumental, so overwhelming, that perhaps that was the problem all along, she wondered. She thought back to that night in his apartment, the way he'd gripped her thigh and hitched it higher on his hip, the way she'd scratched her nails up his back and into his hair gasping into his mouth, the way he'd pressed his face into her neck and choked out, "fuck, fuck, fuck" as if it were a prayer and not a profanity, the way her orgasm had left her shattered in a way that could still curl her toes all this time later. Perhaps it was simply the fear that what she'd realized she was capable of feeling for him, for herself, that night that so terrorized her still lurked about, threatened, even now, to bring this all crashing down around her. The doubt tasted like dust in her mouth.

"Lunch, Miller?" Hardy's voice, cutting through her thoughts, startled her and she was jolted back to the reality of the steering wheel she was gripping hard enough with her hands it make her fingers hurt, the road in front of her, and the restless and silent man beside her.

They were driving back from a farm about ten miles down the coast that had reported vandalism in the back fields. Some equipment was missing, generators for water pumps and petrol to run them. It was a wet and miserable day and both of them were damp and uncomfortable.

She'd nodded and turned off the main road. If she drove north a bit, there was a village with a little pasta restaurant that she rarely had an excuse to eat at. She'd take it now.

They were strangers here. Two colleagues on a lunch break, a new couple grabbing a mid-day date in their busy lives, a married couple having a moment together outside of the routine of their work-home-kids-bed-repeat schedule. They could be anyone. They could be all of them, she realized.

An easy back and forth about the farmer kept them occupied until their food arrived and after they fell into an easy chatter about the kids. Tom would be home tonight and Fred too. She was looking forward to it. Her dad would be back from up north by dinner and she'd planned a roast. For him, it was to be a quiet night. Daisy had play practice until late and was planning on staying over at a friend's after.

He picked at his food as was his usual and so it took her an absurdly long amount of time to realize that he was carefully setting all the mushrooms aside. "You don't like mushrooms?" She asked.

He grunted in reply and applied himself a little more vigorously to separating them out and to one side.

"Why did you order a dish with mushrooms if you don't like them?" She was puzzled. He sighed, but didn't answer her. "I just think these are things we should know about each other," she said and reached over with her fork and snagged a stack of them, popping them in her mouth.

He watched her, perfectly aware he was being teased, but also as if he were unsure how he should proceed. "They taste like fungus," he finally replied, as he shoveled more pasta and sauce, albeit with significant fewer mushrooms in it, into his mouth.

"Because they are," she said.

He shrugged. "Like the rest of it and they don't ruin it so why not?"

She rested her chin on her hand and stared at him. He stopped chewing after a moment and looked back, confused.

"What?"

"You're ridiculous."

He snorted and his eyes skittered away from her, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips all the same. She shook her head and went back to eating as the moment faded away. The rain had paused by the time they had finished and the dash back to the car was significantly less mad and they took a minute to settle themselves. She desperately wanted a snog in that moment. If it had been Joe, she would've taken it.

"We should be heading back," she said, settling her hands on the wheel, but not starting the car. She sighed when he glanced over at her, she let a little of her sadness and frustration show on her face. His own face did something complicated in response and then he reached out and took her hand. His thumb stroked her palm, once, then twice, and her eyes dropped to watch the movement. She wondered if he too was as conflicted as she was. "This won't be easy. I wish it were easy," she finally said.

She'd hit him if he said something trite like that's how we know it's worth it. His thumb stroked over her palm again.

"Ellie, love." He paused. After a moment, he said in a rush, "I'm bloody awful at this. I don't know what to do."

Her breath caught at his affection, it wasn't as shocking to her as the first two times, but she still felt a churn of emotion. "From what I remember, you actually aren't awful at all," she said, desperate to break the tension.

He scoffed at her, but she grinned more broadly at him and his look softened as his eyes searched her face before landing on her lips. The want hit her like a wave crashing over a jetty in a spring storm, sudden, bright, and vigorous.

His thumb stroked again, heavy with meaning. "Please, I really don't know what I'm doing here, but I don't-" He stopped. He took a deep breath and she realized how hard this was for him. "But I don't want to bollocks it all up." She curled her fingers to hold his and squeezed them. He squeezed back.

"I don't know what I'm doing either," she said, softly. She wanted him to tell her it would be alright.

He leaned over and pressed a swift, hard kiss to her lips before pulling back just slightly. "Start the car, Miller," he said.

She faced forward herself and started the car before either of them could convince themselves to try anything more. They would be just fine.

Chapter Text

The next day she finished the report from the previous day's call out as her team pulled records relating to a request that had come in. Jessica, with a constable's help, had finished their research by mid-afternoon, but had asked that Ellie let Hardy know. Ellie sighed, but agreed. He'd snapped at two people that morning, loudly, and had ignored her when she glared at him from her desk after the second time.

"He's not any nicer to me than he is the rest of you lot," she protested, not for the first time. There were guffaws and scoffs all around her. She rolled her eyes. "Just because you're all too chicken shit to tell him he's a wanker, doesn't mean I always have to be the one to do it."

"He'll take it from you," Jessica said.

She picked up the stack of folders and walked over to Hardy's office, knocking on the door jamb to catch his attention.

"What?" he said, looking up. His glasses were perched on his nose. She'd convinced him to ditch the frameless ones last year and once again patted herself on the back for a job well done. He looked far better in the black plastic frames. His look softened a little when he saw it was her, before he glanced out the glass windows and schooled it into something a little more scowly.

"We finished the records review request from the Yorkshire police and found a few files to send them. Want to review them before?" She held up the pile of reports for him to see. Yorkshire had put a call out for anything related to a suspicious death. Hardy had asked Miller to choose a D.C. and to go through their files from the last few years.

He looked disgusted for a brief moment as he eyed them. "Did someone print those out? Then they'll have to rescan them to Yorkshire? We're not mailing them up there are we?"

"Don't be an idiot, they're more than ten years old and haven't been digitized," she said. He eyed her and then looked back down at his monitor, attention drifting back to his work.

"How close are they?"

She scrunched her nose. "Not very, but enough to be worth sending on."

"Do you think they're related?" he asked, still scanning his monitor and only half paying attention to her.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "But something's bothering me a bit about their case. Might ask Jessica to widen the search parameters a bit beyond their original request, see what pops up?"

"Trust your instincts, Miller." he replied, looking back at her. "If you find something else, we can look it over."

"Right, sir," she responded, turning to go.

"Oh, and Miller?" he called. She halted and turned back. He glanced out the windows again. She stepped a few steps in and pushed the door almost closed behind her. There was something else he wanted to say and he didn't want an audience.

"Yes?" she asked, unsure if it was work or something else.

"Daisy has play practice Friday night," he said, softly, eyeing the bullpen out his windows, as if searching for lipreaders hiding amongst them. Ellie grinned, but waited for him to go on. "Then she's going to a friend's. For the night. Won't be home until Saturday."

"Home alone, then, sir?" she chirped. "Best lock your doors, could have all manner of unsavories popping by for a chat or a drink if they knew."

He looked more amused than annoyed at her cheek. "Well, one in particular wouldn't be unwelcome after, say, nine?"

"Ooooh, better make it half-past, sir. No upstanding resident of Broadchurch would be out that late. Only the extra unsavory ones."

"I have no idea what that means."

She laughed at him. "It means Tom is to bed nine."

He nodded and looked back down at his paperwork. She stayed standing there and he looked back up at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Looking forward to it," she said, winking at him. She was rewarded with a slight flushing of his cheeks.

"Get out of my office, Miller," he responded, with no heat in his voice.

She laughed and let herself out. At least three sets of eyes were on her, including Jessica's and one of the DC's that had been snapped at earlier.

"Oh shut up and get back to work," she said, in too good of a mood to be annoyed at them all for being right. At least her ability to manage their boss was one she'd had since the Latimer case and wasn't a recent development, she thought.

The rest of the afternoon dragged on, but she left promptly at five with a wave in his direction.

"Night, sir," she called out to him, as was her habit.

He looked up and acknowledged her goodbye with a nod and a gruff, "Miller," and then went back to the analysis she knew he was reviewing for Jenkinson.

Don't stay too late. She texted him on her way to her parked car.

An hour later her phone pinged just as she was getting ready to sit down to eat. It was a picture of his coffee table with his laptop open and strewn with papers. It pinged again before she had a chance to turn off the screen and set it down. It was a second picture, a picture of a box on the counter, open and revealing a chocolate tart from her favorite patisserie.

Hoping to make it to second base? she responded before joining her family for dinner and leaving her phone in the kitchen.

She left Tom and her dad to the washing up while she put Fred to bed, reading to him, singing his allowed three songs, and then snuggles after lights out. Fred shifted and asked her sleepily what was beyond space and the universe, but fell asleep before she had a chance to figure out an age-appropriate answer. She snuck her phone out to see if he'd responded on her way back down stairs.

Whatever it takes, was the reply from an hour earlier

Lucky for you, I'm easy, she responded.

The dots appeared indicating he was replying, then disappeared, then reappeared before disappearing again. She grinned and tucked her phone away again. Tom and her dad were on the sofa watching telly; a match was on. Tom, she knew, would rather be playing FIFA and her dad watching The Bill reruns, but they both could tolerate a footie match. They both agreed that it was easier to not argue and watching something together than risk Ellie yelling at them and banning television for the evening in response to a fight. It was eight.

She sat for a bit with them both, carefully ignoring her phone before she gave up at half past and went back upstairs for a shower and to change into leggings and a soft shirt. Neither had moved when she headed back down at nine. It'd take about twenty minutes to walk up the hill to Hardy's house and would burn off some of her nervous energy.

"Tom, bed at nine-thirty sharp" she said. He grumbled and protested.

"I'll make sure he goes up as soon as the game is over," her dad called over his shoulder, eyes still on the telly.

Ellie sighed. "Lights out at ten, yeah?" She said, conceding before a fight could begin. "I catch you up later, I'm taking away your xBox for the weekend."

She texted Hardy.

I'll head over in a bit. We still good?

See you soon. Be safe.

She smiled at his admonition. Ever since the Trish Winterman case he worried a little when she walked over to his place at night.

"You going back out for work, Ellie?" her dad asked as she shrugged into her coat. She looked up, he was staring at her and the phone in her hand.

"Just out for a bit, but I'll be back before it gets too late. Don't wait up."

"That boss of yours, Ellie. Isn't fair asking you to work all hours."

It was a tired argument, for both of them, but he was the one that insisted on continuing to have it. "He's not asking me to," she responded before she could think about it. Luckily he was too distracted to really notice. Tom shot her a puzzled glance, but was distracted by a noise from the match. She slipped out the back door and out on the common. The night was dark, but the stars twinkled overhead and a waxing moon offered some light. The breeze was cool and crisp and Ellie breathed deep as she shet out.

She finished the final climb up the path to his house from the coastal trail at just before nine-thirty. He was sitting on the patio in one of the deck chairs.

"Hi," she breathed, only slightly winded from the walk.

"Figured you'd walk," he said as he rose. He opened the door for her and she stepped in past him. She shed her coat and he took it from her, folding it over the back of a kitchen chair.

They stood there, staring at each other. It wasn't unusual for her to visit him late, but this was different. Before there'd always been a case or something else work-related to give her a reason to make the hike up to his house. She wasn't sure if she should kiss him or not, and he looked just as unsure as she felt.

"I believe you were teasing me with chocolate?" she finally asked, tipping her head to the side.

He startled, as if he'd been lost in thought. "Right!" he exclaimed and turned towards the kitchen.

The chocolate tarte was already on a plate, two forks laying beside it. The thought of him going to the effort of stopping to buy it and then set it out before she got there made her smile. Such efforts from him weren't common, but they weren't unheard of either. Usually she just scowled at him and thanked him politely in order to avoid the feelings that came with the thoughtful little gestures. It felt nice to step up close to him, bumping his hip with her own and resting her head briefly against his shoulder before picking up a fork and digging in. He joined her, taking one bite to her two, but smiling and clearly enjoying the moment all the same.

"Thank you," she said when she'd taken the last bite that he'd nudged at her.

He nodded and swallowed, looking nervous again.

"Are you going to invite me to watch television or just take me straight to bed?" She asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter. The teasing was as much a cover for her own nervousness as it was a fun way to make him flustered. She enjoyed the way he looked when he was embarrassed.

His cheeks flushed red and she grinned at him.

"How long can you stay?" he asked, scratching the back of his head and putting one hand on his hip.

She reached up and traced a line down the buttons of his shirt with her finger, stopping when she reached his belt. "Mmm, few hours at least, but I should be getting back before too late, yeah?" They weren't ready for overnights and probably wouldn't be for awhile. She'd slept on his couch, both in the office and in his living room, more than once, but the last thing they needed was to be caught out by one of their children before they had a chance to even define it for themselves. But with Daisy gone and a few hours before she needed to be back home in order to catch some sleep they had the luxury of time.

"Have you seen the latest episode of Bake Off?" He asked. They hadn't watched any together, but both of them were keeping up with it and had spent more one than afternoon arguing about it in between their work discussions.

"No," she replied.

He inclined his head towards the sitting room, dropping a hand to the small of her back as he followed her out. They settled on the sofa together, him with his feet up on the coffee table that still held his papers and laptops from earlier, her curled up against his side. His arm dropped easily around her and his hand stroked over her hip once before settling comfortably and warmly against her thigh.

This was new, but felt as easy as if they'd been doing it all along, she realized. They'd spent hours in each other's company carefully avoiding physical contact, they'd even had sex before, but a cuddle on the couch was new. She had half expected it to be uncomfortable or difficult when she allowed herself to think about what a relationship with him meant these last two weeks. She wondered if that was their problem, the ability to find this with each other, if they were even capable of it. Joe had always liked her against him or in his lap during their time in the evenings alone. Kids and chores and the distraction of life had meant that it became something that was more of a special occasion than anything else. The ability to do this with Hardy would likely be even more infrequent, but she thought, as the theme music played for the episode, it felt nice, easy, comfortable. She fit - they fit together surprisingly well.

His thumb stroked her thigh gently, absentmindedly, and they gently teased each other and chatted through the signature challenge. She repositioned herself, curling legs up beside her and sitting up a bit more, but he left his arm around her as the technical began. The bakers had only begun when she started grumbling about techniques.

"Big words from someone who-" he started.

She cut him off. "Don't you dare finish that sentence." Her lack of baking ability was well and often discussed between them. He wasn't that much better, but he was a good cook and so managed to fake it better than she did.

He snorted and then chuckled. She sat up and glared at him, but then used the excuse to lean forward and kiss him. He responded enthusiastically and opened his mouth, sweeping his tongue into hers and tightening his hand on her hip. She took it as encouragement and turned, flinging a leg over his lap and straddling him.

It was a proper snog. The kind they hadn't shared in over a year, not since they'd kissed goodbye in the half-furnished front room of his house amidst the boxes and packing materials strewn about. This was a kiss hello, a start, a promise of something more to come, not the last desperate goodbye of them ending something they both had wanted but were unable to see a way through to. He kissed her like he'd been dying of thirst and she was a glass of water. She kissed him back with the same ferocity.

She gasped into his mouth as one of his hands tangled in her hair at the back of her head and the other stroked up her side to cup her breast, thumb stroking over a nipple. Her own hands cupped his face, fingers splayed and gripping the back of his neck, nails scraping the sensitive skin there.

She heard the lock on the front door scrape and then a thump as someone tried to open the door before it had disengaged. It was a tricky lock, which is why she often just came to the patio door that Hardy left unlocked with disturbing frequency even for a small town that had minimal breaking and enterings.

"Shit," she gasped tumbling off his lap and against the arm of the sofa.

"Fuck," he yelped. He looked over at the front hallway, panic all over his face. "She said she'd be out all night," he whispered.

"Well obviously not," Ellie hissed back.

"This isn't my fault," he said, leaning forward and frantically trying to wake his laptop up.

She grabbed a stack of papers off the table and tried to remember how she normally sat beside him when reviewing work files. "I didn't say it was," she said just as Daisy appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. Ellie glanced over Hardy and herself, both had managed to straighten their clothes although she suspected their hair was both a little mussed for a Friday evening work session. The laptop screen was on and Hardy had produced his glasses and shoved them on his face in their race to appear like they had been working instead of making out on the couch like teenagers.

Ellie's panic was arrested a second later when she realized Daisy's eyes were red and face puffy from crying.

"Daisy, darling," Hardy said, worry evident in his voice. Ellie made a sympathetic concerned noise and looked between father and daughter. Alec sat up and opened his arms.

"Oh dad," Daisy said, as she dropped her things and strode over to the couch. She flung herself down and gave her dad a hug before sniffing and sitting up, perched on the edge of the cushions. "Hi Ellie," she said, glancing her way with a watery smile. Ellie smiled back

"What's wrong?" Hardy murmured at Daisy as he rubbed her back.

"Robert broke up with me," she replied, tiredly, as if it wasn't the first time she'd had to say that.

Hardy glanced at Ellie over Daisy's head. "Robert?" he mouthed. Ellie shrugged.

"What an arsehole'," Hardy replied. "Do you need me to give him a good bollocking?"

"Don't be embarrassing, dad."

"Although if you want that done," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Ellie here is your best bet, I let her give them most of the time." Ellie nodded in agreement.

Daisy gave a half-hearted laugh. "I know you do, you're shit at them." Ellie smothered a laugh, but Daisy looked at her and smiled as if they were sharing a joke at her dad's expense. It would've felt easier, Ellie knew, if she hadn't just been snogging Daisy's father on the couch enthusiastically not minutes before.

"I'll make you a cup of tea," Ellie said, rising from the couch, wanting to give dad and daughter as well as herself a little space.

She stood in the kitchen and looked out at them while they murmured quietly to each other, waiting for the kettle to boil. When she had three mugs of tea ready she returned. Daisy had curled up against her dad and he could only look at Ellie over the top of her head and mouth, 'sorry.' Ellie smiled and shook her head. They both knew Daisy was more important. Both father and daughter reached out and took took their mugs. Ellie gingerly sat down next to Daisy, tucking a leg up underneath her and facing them both.

"I'm sorry," Daisy said to both of them. "You were trying to work and I interrupted." She gestured to the case detritus spread out on the table. Ellie and Alec had spent more than one evening working on case files later into the night than they should have, but Daisy rarely interrupted them.

"Oh darlin'," Hardy said, stroking his daughter's hair. "You're more important."

"Dad," Daisy protested.

"It's true," he replied with conviction. His actions didn't always reflect it, but Ellie knew that he really did mean it when he told her that. He'd confessed to her long ago that it was a regret of his that he'd put work ahead of his family all those years. For him, Daisy being here in Broadchurch with him was a chance to make sure he didn't keep repeating that mistake. Ellie nodded and smiled at them both.

"It's late anyway," Ellie said. "I'd best be getting home. You sure you don't need me to tell Robert off? I'd love to," she continued, with a soft look at Daisy.

Daisy smiled but shook her head. "I was going to break up with him anyway soon, I'm just mostly mad he did it first and in front of Claire."

"Well lovely, I'm sorry he's such a twat. You deserve better," Ellie said. She patted Daisy's leg and then stood, taking her own half-drunk tea with her into the kitchen. She turned in surprise when she heard Hardy follow her in.

"You alright, love?" He asked, low and quiet so as not to be overheard by his daughter.

She shivered. "Yeah," she whispered in response, and then glanced over at Daisy who was engrossed in her phone, she raised and hand and cupped Hardy's cheek, stroking it once with her thumb before she dropped it.

"This is not what I-"

"Me either," she interrupted. "We'll figure it out, yeah?" She patted him once on the chest and then stepped past him. "Walk me out," she offered, over her shoulder at him. He set his own barely touched mug down and followed her. She called goodbye to Daisy and collected her coat from the chair by the patio door, Alec trailing after her. Daisy waved without looking up from her phone.

Ellie paused by the front door to shrug into her coat.

"Stay safe," Alec whispered and he leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips.

"I'm a scary police officer," she responded in the same tone, kissing him back.

He snorted and rolled his eyes, holding the door open for her as she patted down her pockets to ensure she had everything she came with. "Text when you get home?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Text me who wins star baker?" she asked. He smiled and nodded, then kissed her again. She held his face to hers and responded, slow and sure.

"We'll figure it out," he said, echoing her words from before, before pressing one last kiss against her lips. It was a reassurance and a promise.

She nodded, not sure if she could trust her words at the moment. Then they both straightened and she turned to walk out. She smiled softly to herself as she set down the path home. It didn't matter that the closest thing they had to an actual date had been interrupted by Daisy, that was all part of what this was between them. And that was alright with her.

Her house was dark and quiet and she headed straight to her bedroom without turning on any lights and crawled into bed before she picked up her phone.

No murderers or fae folk encountered

The reply came minutes later.

The boy that swears he's 18 but looks 12 won

She sent him the wide-faced emoticon

ha he responded.

She smiled, then sent a heart.

A heart appeared in response almost immediately. They'd figure it out and until then, even just this made her happier than she'd felt in years.

Chapter Text

Monday morning she was standing in her kitchen drinking her morning cup of tea - she could stop and get coffee later, but her dad always complained when she brewed it at home - and eating her toast and eggs, when her dad walked into the kitchen and picked the car keys up off the hook by the door. Tom trailed in after him looking mostly asleep still.

"What are you doing?" she asked, annoyed, gesturing to the keys in his hand.

"Taking the car," he said.

"The hell you are, I've got to go to work," she protested, setting her cup down. Tom looked back and forth between the two of them.

Her dad shrugged collected his coat and wallet. "You can walk like you usually do and besides, it's Monday."

"Yeah? And?"

"And I'm going to go see your mum and spend the day with Lucy and Ollie." He looked at her, as if just realizing that she was actually cross. "We talked about this, Ellie."

It came back in a rush. He visited her mother's grave once a month and usually spent the rest of the day with Ollie and Lucy before coming back in time for dinner on these days. It'd be up to her to make sure Fred got picked up from the child-minder's in time and Tom made it to practice. This month, he was going a week earlier than he usually did, and they had talked about it. But as usual he had chosen the worst time possible to talk about it, and she'd agreed without thinking it through and mostly just trying to get him to stop talking. And now it was Monday morning and she had no way to get to work.

"Fuck."

"Language," he tsked at her.

She shot him a dirty look and caught Tom smirking into his cereal. She cuffed Tom gently on the back of his head.

"At least drop Fred at the child-minder's this morning, yeah? Tom can walk."

"Aww-" Tom started to protest.

She cut him off, pointing a finger at him and scowling. "Don't start-" Her dad looked disgruntled, but not like he was going to protest. Good, he'd regret it if he did. She headed back up the stairs to hurry Fred along. They'd both left him to his own devices that morning and it was probably a disaster.

That's when she remembered she was supposed to meet Hardy at crown court that morning.

"Fuck," she exclaimed in frustration, stopping on the stairs for a moment just to be angry.

"Ellie!" her dad said from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes, he was just as bad as her when it came to swearing. "Shut it, dad." She pulled out her phone and hit the number on her most recent calls list.

"Hey," Alec answered. She still smiled at the greeting - almost everyone else still got a "what".

"Hi, can you pick me up on your way?"

"What?" He seemed distracted, but she couldn't hear road noise, and he was kind of weird about answering his phone in the car so at least he hadn't left yet. Picking her up shouldn't add time to the drive.

She gritted her teeth, reminding herself that she was annoyed at her father and mad at herself for forgetting, not Hardy. "Can you pick me up on your way?" She added as she climbed the rest of the stairs to Fred's room, "My dad is taking my car for the day."

Fred was sitting on his floor attempting to get dressed and doing a halfway decent job with it. She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder encouraged him along quickly. He jumped up and down as she helped him pull on his trousers.

Hardy still sounded distracted. She could hear water running in the background and the sounds of Daisy talking to him. "Are you ready to go now?"

"Do I bloody sound ready now?" She ground out, dangerously close to losing her temper. "Do NOT answer that question if you value your life."

He chuckled. "I can be there in about ten minutes."

"Ta, see you then."

He grunted in reply and disconnected the line.

She shuffled Fred downstairs. Her dad was still impatiently waiting by the back door, flipping the keys around on his finger, but not doing anything to help.

She gathered up Fred's things, shoving his stuffed animal and blanket into a backpack along with a water bottle and an extra jumper. She pushed it all into her dad's arms. "Right, here's Fred, he'll eat breakfast at the child-minder's and be sure to tell them he hasn't eaten yet this morning. Tom, get a move on."

Her dad took Fred's hand and headed out the door.

"Dad?" she called when he was halfway down the walk. "Say hello to mum for me?" she asked. He nodded and they exchanged a small smile. She sighed and turned back to Tom. Hardy would be there in about five minutes.

"You, out," she said, gesturing to the door. "You're going to be late."

Tom tried to protest but she handed him his backpack and shoved him out the door as quickly as possible. Three minutes. She wasn't fully dressed yet, but they didn't need to leave her house for a full fifteen minutes even with traffic to make it in on time. Thank god Hardy liked to be early.

She saw his car pull up and she ignored it and turned back to her abandoned breakfast. Shoveling eggs on top of the now cold toast and taking as big of a bite as she could manage.

"Morning," she greeted around her mouth full of toast as he tapped at her back door and let himself in.

"Morning," he responded. He looked her up and down. "You're not dressed, love."

"Nearly," she said. She grinned at him and felt the warmth pool in her belly from his simple affection. He rolled his eyes at her and she took a sip of her barely warm tea to help wash down the mouth full of dry cold toast. "Give me a moment. Got to eat now because lord knows you won't stop no matter how starving I am. Cuppa?" She offered, raising her own cup and an eyebrow. He nodded. She clicked the kettle on while he looked around, distracted.

"Where are Tom and Fred?"

"Tom is walking, dad is dropping Fred." Hardy nodded, then settled a hip against the counter. She eyed him back, weighing the consequences of kissing him before she got dressed or after. They weren't officially at work yet and she had every intention of giving him a proper snog before they headed out. He looked back at her and she could see he had the very same thought.

"Go get dressed, Miller." He said half-amused half-exasperated.

She smirked and turned from the kitchen, glancing at the clock. They had at least ten minutes. It'd take her less than five to finish getting ready.

She made it back down in four. He was finishing up making their tea and had put a slice of bread in to toast.

He glanced up when she walked back in and she could feel his eyes travel over her. It was one of her usual suits, nothing special, but she still appreciated he made the effort and walked straight up to him.

"Hi, you," she whispered, lifting her chin in invitation and settling her hands on his waist.

"Hiya," he breathed out in response as he bent down to meet her, his own hands moving to cup her jaw.

He didn't bother with being cautious or careful, but held her firmly as his tongue swept over her lips and into her mouth and stepped forward, flush against her body. Her fingers gripped at his hips tight to avoid overbalancing and pulled them backwards into the counter. He made a choked off noise in the back of his throat and she responded in kind.

The toaster popped, startling them both. He glared at it, as if it had interrupted them on purpose. When he looked back at her, she grinned before pecking him on his lips and then stepping back.

"Go on and eat, I'll clean this up," she said with a smile. They had five minutes left before they had to leave. If the kitchen was cleaned up, they could spend what was left kissing. She shoved the jam and milk away and set the dishes in the sink. He crunched at the toast as he poured their tea into insulated travel cups. Then, he swept crumbs into her sink as she screwed the lids on both of their cups.

They both grabbed at each other, kisses hungry and just on the edge of desperate.

"How much time?" he asked, between kisses.

"Five minutes, maybe ten if we push it." God, she wanted to push it. She considered whether or not she was desperate enough for their first time in over a year to be a quick fuck in her kitchen. It'd be fantastic, she knew, but she couldn't promise herself she wouldn't regret it afterwards. If they were late, as they rushed to court, and didn't have time to talk or figure out when they'd next have time, then a quick fuck risked defining their whole attempt to try to make something between them work. This wasn't what she wanted from this, what she needed,and she knew he did not either. If this was going to work….it had to work.

He didn't respond except to duck his head and kiss her again. She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders as he slid his around her waist, holding her firmly against him as he backed her into the counter.

She grunted, but helped as he got a hand on her thigh to lift her up to sit on it. She opened her legs to him and he stepped between them, hands sliding up and over her thighs to her ass to pull her flush against him as they frantically kissed. She held his head, fingers curling into the short hair at the back of his neck. Maybe there'd be no traffic.

"Our first time is not going to be a quickie on my kitchen counter," she muttered, more for herself than for him, pulling back from him. His lips chased hers and found her neck instead. He sucked on it, gently, mindful of leaving a mark.

"It's not our first time," he responded, hands pulling her shirt from her trousers, fingers seeking the skin at her waist. "I could take less than ten minutes," he grumbled.

She laughed and pulled his head back from where he'd pressed it into her collar bone as his fingers worked on her buttons. "Normally, that wouldn't be something worth bragging about."

He kissed her, nipping her lips open, tongue invading her mouth, slow and dirty. There's no way they could possibly only fuck for ten minutes, not if his kiss was any indication.

"Hardy, I'm serious," she said pulling back just enough to get the words out and grinning at him despite her words.

He kissed her again, before replying. "You want it."

She kissed him back, hard and dirty, hand going to his lower back to pull him tight against her as she rocked her hips into him. He was hard and she felt her resolve crumbling. "Of course I fucking want it, you arsehole. It's not going to happen." She gasped, pulling back. They really should be leaving now and only had a few minutes to spare if traffic cooperated.

"Ellie," he said, low and dangerous, panting into her mouth as he gripped her hips tight and she knew that if she'd been in a skirt this would've all been over by now.

"Fuck," she muttered and kissed him again. Then she sat up and pushed him back, hand firmly on his chest. He looked disappointed, but stepped back and helped her down.

"You'll be crabby all day if you're late. I won't be held responsible even though you started it." She poked him in the chest to emphasize her point. "We have to figure something out," she murmured into his lips when he leaned down to kiss her one last time. He stepped back then and nodded before looking out the window and taking a deep breath.

"C'mon, then," he said. He leaned around her and picked up both of the travel mugs. She ushered them both out the door and locked up. They were both putting a little distance between them, creating that space to be Miller and Hardy, D.S. and D.I. with the Wessex Police. It had been luck they'd even gotten this much this morning and all it had done was frustrate her more. She could see from the stiff set of his shoulders, he likely felt the same. They got in the car and headed out.

They were both quiet as he pulled the car out onto the main road until he sighed and glanced out of the corner of his eye at her before rubbing a hand over his face.

"I may have gotten a bit carried away," he began. She cut him off with a snort. He shot her a sheepish grin. Then, reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. He lifted it and pressed a kiss to her palm before dropping their joined hands back down onto her thigh.

"Alec, I'm happy," she began. She squeezed his fingers before continuing, smiling as he answered back with a gentle squeeze of his own. "This has been maddening, but in a good way. You're technically my boss, we've got children, and then of course there's this town," she said, meaning the still lingering complicated feelings of the Latimer case, Joe's legacy, Hardy's own famously cranky nature well known throughout the town, and the entire complicated history they shared together. "But this," she continued, gesturing between them. "This, makes me happy and we're going to be alright."

He stroked a thumb over her knuckles in response.

"Ellie, I'm happy too," he said softly, with a smile. They sat there a moment more before untangling their hands, reaching for their tea, and beginning an argument about the case they were giving evidence in that morning at Crown Court.