Work Text:
Sotto Voce
She’s just tired enough to take her glasses off for a moment to check the time and rub her eyes. She hears a light knock on her door. Opening her eyes at the unexpected intrusion, she sees Andy standing there, two steaming mugs in his hand and a soft expression on his face, not quite a smile.
“You’re still here?” she asks lightly, putting her glasses back on.
“I could say the same to you, Captain. Burning the midnight oil?”
He takes her light tone as invitation enough to step into the room, and places one of the mugs in front of her on a discarded note of paper. It’s peppermint tea, she can smell, and she wonders when he first noticed that she drinks it when she’s working late at the office.
“Thank you” she says, her voice not entirely devoid of surprise. If he notices her tone he doesn’t say anything; merely shrugs and takes a seat opposite her, having a sip of his own drink, which she assumes is coffee.
This is not the first time they’ve both worked late together, the others slowly trickling out to commence their weekend plans. It is, however, the first time he’s brought her tea, and interrupted their paperwork to come and sit in her presence, content to smile at her over the desk between them.
“Rusty not home?” he asks, taking another sip.
She shakes her head. “He’s staying at a friend’s house. He tells me it’s for a school project, but I have a feeling it has something to do with video games and pizza”
He chuckles at her tone; at the way she seems completely unfazed by the boy’s harmless deception. He forgets sometimes that she’s done this gig twice now, and that somewhere out there are two products of Sharon Raydor, who- as far as he’s aware- are stable and successful in their own right. Having only witnessed her in her somewhat restrained role as Rusty’s guardian, he finds it hard to picture her as especially maternal. Still, he thinks she must have been great.
“Boys will be boys” he says.
She hums airily instead of laughing, and he finds the tone endearing.
“You’d know all about that” she teases, and he has to grin at the friendly dig she takes, because the mood is light and her face is open, and he knows she doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s quite telling that his first reaction is not anger or hostility. It speaks to how far their relationship has come since those early days, when he wouldn’t have trusted her to mean nothing by such a remark.
“You have no idea” he answers cryptically, and she hums again, her eyes shining.
They look at each other for a moment, holding eyes with eyes, and they’re both smiling. It should feel awkward, or uncomfortable, but instead it feels wonderful, like they’re two kindred spirits sitting on the same frequency under the yellow glow of her desk lamp. The air doesn’t feel charged, and she doesn’t feel the need to straighten her hair or fix her blouse. Instead she picks up her cup and takes a sip of tea, her eyes shining over the brim. If Andy is in a different head-space from her, he doesn’t show it. She thinks he must not be, with the easy way he’s slouched in the chair, tie discarded and shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow. It’s not his usual look, and she finds she likes it.
She considers him for a moment, her cup sitting just away from her mouth, her tongue resting thoughtfully against her teeth. When she’d checked the clock it had been ten thirty. It’s probably closer to eleven by now.
“You should finish up for the night, Andy. Whatever it is can keep for the morning. It’s late”
“And leave you here to mull over the Stewart case? Nah. I’ll stick around for a bit. If you can handle it, I can handle it”
She smiles at him again, wanting to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, because his boss just told him to stop clocking overtime and go home for the weekend, and instead he’s waiting around for her. She knows it shouldn’t, but that means something. Something deep. And she realises that he considers her a real friend. It’s not the first time the thought has occurred to her, she knows, as she absently rubs the place on her back that bruised all those weeks ago. Still, to have it confirmed in the safety of her office and not in the heat of the moment after saving her life is wonderful and unexpected.
He doesn’t squirm under her considering gaze, the way he might have when she first took the job, and that speaks a lot to their familiarity too, because she knows she can come across as intimidating and standoffish, and to be honest, she likes having that ability. He doesn’t look the least bit phased, his coffee resting on his knee with one hand, a lazy smirk on his face.
Putting her mug down on the piece of paper again, she makes a decision.
“Tell you what…” she starts, palming the table as she measures her words. “Why don’t we finish up the last of what we’re doing, I’ll finish this-” She gestures to her tea. “- and then we both get out of here? I was just thinking of packing it in anyway”
His smirk turns into a friendly grin.
“Don’t have to tell me twice, Captain” he says, and her rank sounds more like a friendly term of endearment than an acknowledgement of her position.
She’d never had much camaraderie at IA, beyond some of the guys she’d worked with for years, and it’s been almost two decades since she’s been part of a squad that riffed on each other and joked around and called each other stupid nicknames. This is the closest she’s come in long time to having some of that back, and he must be confused as to why she could suddenly giggle with joy, or maybe cry.
She doesn’t, of course, but she smiles back at him.
“Well, how about we give it twenty, then lights out, go home, it’s tomorrow’s problem?”
He gives her the sloppiest salute she’s ever seen and hauls himself out of her chair, his coffee in one hand, the other slipping into his pant pocket.
She smiles after him, noting the way he doesn’t close her door again on the way out. Turning back to her paperwork, she makes a quick calculation, summing up what she can get done in twenty minutes. It feels like barely a minute has passed when she hears a tap against the doorframe. She looks up, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, and sees Andy standing there, his suit jacket back on and his tie in his hand.
With wide eyes she looks between him and the clock, and he grins openly at her, not moving further in, but not stepping back from the door either.
“Alright” she says, throwing up her hands, looking down to her papers. “I’m on my way”
Quickly packing away the files, she stacks them together and places them neatly in her top draw, ready to be handled again in the morning. She takes her jacket off the back of her chair and swings her arms into it, flicking her hair out of the collar and haphazardly throwing her keys and phone into her handbag.
“Have you eaten?” asks Andy as she comes around her desk to flick the light switch, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, walking past his arm where he’s gesturing for her to go first. The dim lighting finally divests her of the last of her work mentality as they walk to the elevators, and she straightens her spine and loosens her gait, relaxed for the first time in hours. There is nobody else on their floor, a single fluorescent light on in the hall for the cleaner. It’s eerie, and somewhat intimate.
“I had a little something earlier, but honestly I’m starving”
She drags out the last word in her lower register, almost groaning with hunger, and he smirks at her again, because it’s not unusual to be reminded that she’s human like the rest of them, but it’s still nice.
“I know this great little diner, stays open real late- has the best veggie lasagne you’ve ever tasted… other than mine, of course”
He punctuates his words with hand gestures and a lick of his lips, and she smiles at his enthusiasm.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll follow you”
He had forgotten for a moment that they’re in two cars, and though he thinks to offer to take her, it’ll only create the issue of carpooling in the morning. It’s easier to not worry, and he doesn’t quite understand why that sends a feeling of disappointment running through him.
“Sure you can keep up?” he asks with a smirk, the elevator dinging.
She says nothing, just steps through the opening doors, giving him a sly look out of the corner of her eye, a smug look on her face, the corner of her mouth quirking and one eyebrow twitching just so. He understands his disappointment now.
They stand side by side in the elevator, each with one hand in a pocket, her other hand holding the handle of her bag.
“Tell me something” she starts, making him turn to her. “And be honest. How often do you stay this late on a Friday to finish paperwork?”
Her tone is light, almost teasing, though not quite. He shrugs, thinking to himself.
“Not often” he says.
She hums in response, turning to look at the numbers that have just reached the carpark level.
“Why?” he asks, the doors opening.
“No reason” she replies dismissively, walking in the direction of her car. “Try not to lose me at any lights”
She smiles at him as they part, and he smiles back, shaking his lingering questions away and moving to his own car. She’s a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, but he’s starting to see that actually she’s not that complex once she’s comfortable in her space. He now knows that she’s a lot tougher than she looks, or that he gave her credit for, but she’s still a fallible human being, with the same hang-ups and heartaches that anyone of her position or age is likely to have. He’d like to find a way to get to know more about her past- about where she came from and what made her the way she is- but he’s not sure how to ask. He’d like to know something about her kids, like what they studied or where they’re living. Just something to help him understand her better. In some ways he knows her very well, and in others not at all, and it’s starting to frustrate him for reasons he can’t understand, or perhaps doesn’t want to analyse.
Pulling out of the garage, her headlights reflecting in his rear vision mirror, he turns the car in the direction of his favourite all-nighter and sees her following behind the whole way.
They find car spaces right next to each other and just outside the front door and he waits for her to grab her handbag before moving to the door, opening it for her as she approaches. She gives him a thankful look, somewhat surprised, or perhaps confused, and he just smiles in response. For all his roguish ways, he was raised a gentleman, or at least tries to be. Plus it never hurts to make a good impression with the boss.
She slides gracefully into a booth and allows him to order for her, asking only for water with her meal. She grins at him as he chats with a waitress he’s clearly known for years, and he only shrugs when the young woman walks away.
“What can I say, I’m a regular”
“Evidently” she says with a smirk.
“No judging” he says, pointing his finger.
She holds her hands up, pursing her lips, raising her eyebrows. He smirks back at her and she rests her arms on the table, fingers curling in so she can rest her chin on one hand. He can’t help but admire her; how she can make such a simple gesture look so elegant. It’s something he’s always noticed; her ability to gracefully fill a room and bring all focus to her without ever raising her voice or demanding the attention. She’s not a tyrant, but she is the boss, and it’s a position she was clearly born for, in the way that he imagines royalty are born with the inherent knowledge of how to command a space. She can’t have always been that way, surely, he thinks. But then he remembers that she’d brought Provenza and his old partner up on a complaint all those years ago, and a mental image of a younger, haughty Sharon Raydor huffing her way into a superior’s office and demanding action fills his mind. He has to focus on not showing what he’s thinking, because no, he thinks, she was always like this, and that’s just downright funny.
“You know, I don’t think… if fact I’m certain- I haven’t had a midnight meal since I started at Major Crimes full time”
She sounds almost gleeful, like she’s staying out past curfew, and he remembers that Rusty has been with her since day one and this might just be her first Friday night off. She’s been nothing but attentive to the boy and for that he admires her, because her patience is something to be praised, and he knows he doesn’t have that in him.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything” he says with a grin.
The waitress drops their meals in front of them, effectively breaking their eye contact, and he hears her stomach grumble at the smell of food in front of them. He chuckles, and she laughs at herself, picking up her cutlery and cutting a huge piece of lasagne for herself. She moans in delight when she chews into it, rolling her eyes a little in pleasure, and he can’t help but find that a little bit erotic. He understands that she’s actually not an ice queen; that she’s been married, and has children, and may or may not have been single since her husband was off the scene all those years ago. Even so, the sound of her moaning in pure pleasure at the best lasagne in town (other than his own) is enough to shock his system, because it’s just so far removed from any other noise he hears her make, including her plethora of hums and grumbles.
He gives her a pointed look over his own forkful of food, and she jabs her knife in the direction of her plate.
“This is just so good” she says around a mouth full of food. “You were right”
“I told ya” he replies with a grin, continuing to look her over as he shovels a large morsel into his own mouth. She grins at him as she swallows her food and wastes no time in cutting herself another piece, and he’s bold enough- and perhaps stupid enough- to label this in his head as a date.
He doesn’t care that he’s out of line; it’s just past midnight and he’s eating the second-best lasagne in the world with a beautiful woman. He’ll call this what he likes.
They take their time finishing their meal, and end up ordering hot drinks as the conversation lingers, though she has tea so she won’t be awake all night. She makes a wise-crack about a cocky young man that flirts with the waitress and he snorts into his cup, spitting out his coffee, making her laugh along with him. He tells her a funny story about him and Provenza- one that’s innocent enough to not land him in trouble- and she laughs deep in her belly, and sometime after one in the morning they realise they have to get home at some point.
He lets her pay her share of the cheque, because it doesn’t yet feel appropriate to insist on such things, and he catches her humming along to an old rock classic on the radio as she’s putting her purse back in her handbag.
“Didn’t peg you for a Toto fan” he says with a sideways smirk. She only raises her eyebrow at him in a way that’s far too sly for his liking.
“I told you- there are many things you don’t know about me” she replies simply, swinging her bag onto her shoulder and leading them out. She pulls the door open and he grabs it to allow them both to step through.
“Oh yeah? Like what?” he challenges as she steps into the night air.
She hums airily. “Wouldn’t you like to know”
“I would, actually” he says lightly, without leer.
“I’m sure” she replies instantly.
She regards him without losing her teasing look, analysing him through her glasses, one hand on her handbag strap and the other in her pocket. He lets her look, feeling generous. The moment lasts barely a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime, and for a moment he thinks he’s overstepped, but she only calmly removes her eyes from him to look in her bag, pulling it open to look for her keys. Once they’re in her hand she stands straight in front of him, both of them in front of the space between their cars.
“I had a good time tonight, Lieutenant” she says earnestly. His rank sounds friendlier from her than it ever has before. He wonders if he has that same tone of familiarity when he addresses her by rank, and thinks he surely must.
“I’m glad. You’ll have to remember this place. Maybe bring the kid next time”
“Maybe. You did promise great food, and they didn’t disappoint”
“They never do” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
“Thank you” she says with sincerity, moving to go to her car after a moment of consideration.
“No worries”
She clicks the remote to unlock the doors and opens the driver’s side, tossing her bag onto the passenger seat.
“I’ll see you in the morning” he says, his sentence pitching at the end to sound half questioning.
“That you will. And not too early. It’s a Saturday. Taylor’s lucky we’re even coming in at all”
They smile over the roof of his car- light silly smiles that reflect the mood of the night.
“Sounds good” he says with a soft smile.
“I’ll see you then”
“Yep. Drive safe”
“I always do”
The parting exchange feels familiar in a way that it shouldn’t; comfortable and easy, which is both wonderful and completely confusing to her. They both get in their cars, and she notices him lurking to make sure she’s safely leaving, following out just behind her. She smiles to herself. She waves to him in her rearview mirror as she reaches the carpark exit, and he flicks his high-beams at her in acknowledgement, and then they’re driving in opposite directions to their respective sides of town.
She’s had too good of a night to consider just what it was, and so she plans to just get home and set her alarm for a couple of hours later than usual, and let herself fall into a dreamless sleep. She’s content to just allow this to be an enjoyable and relaxing meal with a colleague; she hasn’t had that much fun in a long while.
She smiles despite herself as she pulls up to a red light. She turns the radio volume up just a fraction and finds herself humming along to Dire Straits all the way home.