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Owen was working his way through a stack of reports he had been ignoring when the sound of footsteps in his doorway made him lookup. He glanced at his door to find Captain Blake standing in his door, looking uncertain. That alone was enough to make this an odd interaction: Michelle Blake never looked uncertain.
“Captain?” he asked by way of greeting.
“Captain,” she responded.
The silence stretched for several long moments before Owen spoke again, “Can I help you with something?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Actually, you can, Or at least, I hope you can.”
Owen gestured for her to take the seat opposite his desk and she did, finally crossing the threshold into his office and settling into the chair. He watched her fidget for a moment before he spoke again, brow furrowed in concern, “Is everything okay Michelle? Is it about your sister?”
“Oh, Iris is fine, that’s not it,” she replied quickly.
“What is it then,” Owen asked pointedly when she showed no signs of continuing.
Michelle sighed before leaning forward in her chair, “I need a favor. I don’t even know if it’s fully appropriate to ask; if this is crossing some boundary or something and I completely understand if you say no…”
“Michelle,” he said, cutting off her rambling. She looked up at him and he gave her a smile, “Just say what you need to say.”
She took a deep breath before finally spitting out the words; “I need a date for this wedding.”
Oh. Oh .
“Oh,” he said, not sure what else there was to say.
“I know this is weird and I am so sorry, but it’s my cousin’s wedding and my mother has threatened to disown me if I show up alone again and she has to spend all night listen to all her sisters lament about how tragic it is I am so single and I really don’t have many friends outside of work - except Carlos but I’m pretty sure your son would have strong feelings about that and also I’ve already brought him as a date to at least two other family events and I think they might catch on soon and…”
“You’re rambling again Michelle,” Owen informed her.
“Am I? I’m sorry.”
Owen chuckled, “Don’t be. I know how family can be.”
“You too, huh?”
“Let’s just say being divorced twice is not what the busy body aunts like to gush about.”
She nodded, glancing back down to her hands folded in her lap, “I completely understand if you don’t want to go. It’d be weird and like I said I’m not even fully sure it’s appropriate. Actually you can just forget that…”
“Michelle,” he interrupted again. When she looked up he continued, “When’s the wedding?”
Two weekends later found Owen surrounded by three of Michelle’s aunts at the bar. He was smiling politely as aunt on the right (Sharon?) went on about the bride while aunt between him and the bar (Susan? He was probably making that up.) interrupted with whatever additions or corrections she thought necessary. Aunt on the left (Julia, he was almost certain about that one.) listened silently, studying him intently. Owen Strand was a man of many talents - one of which may very well be charming people - but even he was no match for this trifecta of aunts. He kept his polite smile pasted on as he scanned the room with his eyes, looking for any sign of Michelle. He had offered to go get drinks, but that had been at least an hour ago. Surely she had noticed he was missing by now.
“Well you know,” aunt on the right was saying, “the poor dear had an overbite until she was 8, bless her heart.”
“No Sharon,” aunt between him and the bar corrected, “she was 9 when they got that sorted out.”
Owen was going to drown himself in his own drink.
A hand on his arm and a familiar voice interrupted his plotting, “Excuse me ladies, would you mind if I stole him back from you?”
Michelle. Owen could have kissed her right there and then. “Sorry ladies,” he said with a beaming smile, “can’t keep my lovely date waiting!” Then he grabbed the drinks and allowed himself to be led away.
“Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?” he asked Michelle as they made their way back to their table.
She hummed, “probably, but it never hurts to hear it again.”
“Well, Michelle Blake, you are a savior. An hour with your aunts is more than one person can be expected to tolerate.”
She huffed out a laugh, “An hour? Owen, you were only there for about 5 minutes, maybe 6.”
He shook his head, “Not possible.”
“Hate to break it to you Captain, but it’s the truth.”
He shook his head in amazement, “Your aunts must have power over time itself then, because that felt like a lifetime.”
Michelle chuckled as they reached their table, “You just got caught up in a bad combination. Sharon and Suzanne are more than one person can handle. Julia is fine, but she likes to watch the fireworks too much to actually try to stop the other two. Just be glad it wasn’t Margret and Sharon - we’d both be stuck over there now.”
Owen gaped at her, “These are all your aunts? How many sisters does your mother have?”
“Five, and one brother.”
Owen shook his head in disbelief, “I see what Carlos meant now.”
Michelle looked at him sharply, “What do you mean?”
“Carlos tried to warn me about the aunts, I didn’t fully believe him.”
That wasn’t quite true. Carlos had in fact sat Owen down with charts to run through the lists of relatives and cover which ones were fine and which ones were to be avoided at all costs in a very serious tone while an amused TK looked on. But he wasn’t about to blow him in. Plus, he had apparently forgotten all of it - a fact he was going to conveniently neglect to mention when they spoke next.
Michelle shook her head, “The traitor!” she exclaimed with a laugh.
Owen waved her words away, “Don’t blame Carlos - he’s dating my only child, he’s just trying to stay on my good side.”
Michelle rolled her eyes, but Owen could tell that she was fighting off a smile. He grinned at her, “Since I’ve already had the Carlos Reyes run down of the Blake family, do you want to give me the official version?”
Michelle rolled her eyes and took her drink from him before launching into the story of her mom and her five sisters (and one brother). She told him about all the aunts and the embarrassing stories. She talked about her cousins and the trouble they used to get into when they were younger. She talked about her sister, about her dad, about how things were before.
At some point, they left the table and found their way to the dance floor. Somewhere in dancing and swaying and wine and hazy lights, Owen realized that maybe he was starting to see the paramedic Captian in a different light. He admired Captian Blake; she was talented, commanding, compassionate, and confident. But tonight he was starting to realize just how much he liked Michelle Blake too. She was softer, funnier, more open. She made him laugh and he enjoyed the sparkle in her eye when they bantered.
Somewhere in between the nights spent at the bar and the late-night chats in the kitchen, something had started. Something that he was just now starting to realize. Something that before this moment here on the dance floor, he had never fully put into context. Something that may be worth exploring further, just to see.
For tonight though, they would just dance.