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Pas De Deux
The soft music can barely be heard over the mull of voices, and Provenza makes himself at home as he swaggers up to the bar and orders himself another drink. Dinner is over, and speeches have just finished, and the dancing will begin soon, so there’s time enough to just relax and enjoy. All things considered, it’s been a lovely night.
Standing against the bar, perusing the room, he can’t help but let his eyes fall on a certain couple standing across the way, talking to each other like nobody else exists. There’s nothing particularly obvious about them; they’re standing a reasonable distance apart, they aren’t touching, she isn’t laying her hand on his shoulder, and he isn’t whispering into her ear. They look as casual as can be. But he has watched these two dance around each other for over a year, and longer before that; watched them go from allies, to friends, to something more, and then a brief period where they couldn’t stand to be in the same room lest the tension get too much. He was there when truths finally came out, and has seen the easy way they’ve moved around each other since. He knows what has happened, even if they’ve been on their best behaviour; even if nobody else so much as suspects a kiss since Andy’s big rescue. But still, he knows.
So he watches them, standing across the room, their squad interrupting their conversation to form another, bigger group, and he can’t help but smile just a little. Just enough. He can’t say why they work, but it’s obvious that they do, and he’s happy for them, because they’ve managed to keep themselves professional despite the love between them, and he knows that’s no mean feat.
He’s knocked out of his reverie when he notices a figure lean on the bar next to him, and he casually draws his eyes away to look at a certain Assistant Chief.
“Something I can do for you?”
Taylor only smiles, though it could almost be a sneer, and gestures to the barman to come and refill his drink with the same. He turns and leans against the bar, eyeing the group of people across the room, and Provenza narrows his eyes and waits for the other shoe to drop.
"Tell me something" starts Taylor. "Is there anything... I should know..."
His hand waves a little as his eyes never leave them, and Provenza makes a big show out of being confused, though Taylor doesn’t buy for a minute that he doesn’t know who he’s talking about.
"I don't know what you mean" he says with a shrug.
"It's just, since his kidnapping they've been awfully cooperative with each other. FID are starting to get suspicious that he’s up to something"
"They're a good team, Chief. We all are, now that... certain grudges have been put away"
Provenza is being casual enough, and his words do ring true for their squad. But Taylor must be looking for a certain answer, because he squints suspiciously and looks from the group back to the man he's talking to; squares him up and assesses him.
"I'm going to be honest here, and I'd like for you to listen" he says, quietly so as to not arouse suspicion, turning and facing the bar for the pretence of privacy. "I don't much care about personal feelings and the relationships of my people. It's not my problem, and frankly I have better things to do with my time. What is my problem, among other things, is keeping the press happy, keeping the department running with our limited budget…” He pauses for effect. “…and insuring there are no scandals that would tip the very delicate balance we have struck. That's my job. And I'm going to say this only once, Lieutenant, so listen..."
Provenza looks up at him, serious and a little bit worried, because Taylor and he have rarely seen eye to eye, and the man rubs him the wrong way on the best of days, but the look on his face is serious, and his tone is almost sympathetic. Provenza doesn’t know what to make of that.
"If there is anything- and I mean anything- going on that would affect either your squad's ability to work together, or your ability to remain objective, it has to stop, and I mean today. Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear Chief" he says. He takes on those words and keeps them for another day. He’s not sure if Taylor has noticed the relationship specifically, or if he thinks he’s pre-empting one, but either way his warning feels dangerous, and a little bit ominous. "And if I see anything I'll be sure to let you know. Until then..."
He tips his head politely, dismissing himself as he collects his drink off the bar and saunters over to his people. He tries to look casual, and thinks he mainly succeeds, but there’s a warning bell in his head and he can’t quite figure out why, because he’s seen office romances come and go like the wind; he’s good at judging these things. This one seems as innocent as they come, as far as he can tell, and Taylor has been given no good reason to suspect something. It almost sounds like he’s preparing them for an oncoming storm, and that’s a little bit frightening, because the thought that Taylor is pulling them out of the fire before the spark has even flown is foreign; sits uncomfortably with Provenza. He wonders what could possibly happen.
“Provenza” calls Andy as he approaches. “I was just telling them about the time with the thermos and the cat collar, you remember?”
“Not that I want to, but yes” he grouses good-naturedly, and decides that their subtly can be rewarded tonight- he’ll take on Taylor’s warning and keep it to himself. He’ll only bring it up if he notices something is wrong, because he really has become fond of this little affair, and he doesn’t know why, but he’d like to protect it if he can.
The music suddenly changes, and the lights dim fractionally, and suddenly they hear a very loud speaker pumping Billy Jean as a whole slew of people cheer and fill the dance floor. Provenza, Tao, Andy and Sharon all groan and roll their eyes with a smile, having all been of a slightly older era; having watched this music come and go. But Sykes and Sanchez both just grin, before they’re swaggering over to the crowd in time to the music, laughing and dancing, and pulling out all the cheesy eighties moves. The crowd is a mix of ages, and Sharon barks out laughter when Sanchez tries the sprinkler, and then the shopping trolley, and it gets a laugh out of Amy, and he looks pleased with himself. Andy grins at them, and then at the woman by his side, enjoying seeing her in this light. It’s refreshing.
“You wanna dance?” he asks in her ear, only really loud enough for her to hear.
She smiles. “I’ll wait until it’s slowed down a little I think. Let the children have their fun”
Provenza hears her comment and just chuckles, nodding his head and taking a sip of drink, his other hand in his pocket, his eyes scanning the crowd.
“I should probably go home” says Tao a moment later, checking his watch. “I promised Kevin I wouldn’t be all night- we had plans”
“Are you sure?” asks Sharon, loath to let the group disperse so soon. Buzz left just after dinner, giving some vague reference to a date or a prior arrangement or something she couldn’t quite hear. The night is still young, and it’s a Friday night, and she’d love to see everyone just chill out and enjoy themselves. Of course, that could also be the champagne talking.
“Yeah, I better go. There’s still time to catch a movie” he says. She only nods with an understanding expression. Making time for her children is one reason why she spent so long being hated in her career; she can’t fault him for calling it an early night.
They bid their farewells, and then the three of them stand and watch the dancing. Andy notices Sharon’s hips swaying just slightly, unable to restrain herself, and he smirks but says nothing, sipping on his drink. Provenza has a little frown on his face, and looks like there’s something on his mind, but he doesn’t offer information and Andy isn’t in the mood to pry it out of him tonight, so he lets him be and ignores his mood.
"I haven't seen your favourite person here tonight" says Sharon to Andy, turning to him and grinning over her glass as she takes a sip.
"Yeah Flynn. Where is miss psycho tonight?" asks Provenza, shaking out of his reverie and joining the conversation, downing the last of his drink and putting it on a passing tray, nodding at the waiter.
"Maybe she was sick" says Sharon with a shrug.
"Or sharpening her knives" counters Provenza, practically cackling at both the idea and the look Andy gives him.
"Maybe she poisoned your soup" says Sharon, still grinning, half hiding her face behind her champagne flute to stop the giggles.
"Well then you're screwed too Miss Oh-That-Looks-Delicious-Can-I-Just-Have-A-Little-Taste" says Andy, giving her wide, sarcastic eyes and a shake of his head.
"It was worth it- that soup was delicious"
"So why didn't you get your own?" asks Provenza, offended at the very notion of having to share food, much less with the boss.
"Are you kidding? It was either fit in three courses, or fit in this dress. Can't have both"
Both men just snort, and shake their heads at her, and give each other looks that speak to how ridiculous they find her. She just shrugs, her head high, almost haughty except for the smirk at the corner of her mouth. Her dress is gorgeous, and she has no problem showing it off, but there is a limit to how much she is willing to shove in her mouth before she's too uncomfortable to walk, much less drink or dance. And she fully intendeds to have Andy take her around the dance floor later, once they stop playing ABBA so damn loud, and when the music allows them to sway close without comments from watchful eyes. She likes this floor-filler music just fine, and remembers countless living room boogies with her daughter, and with girlfriends in crowded dorms before that. But in her pretty dress and with a couple of flutes of bubbly in her stomach she wants her pas de deux with the dashing man beside her.
They talk for a while, conversation easy and relaxed, and she places her hand on their arms when she laughs, and neither of them feels put out, so they just laugh with her. Maybe it’s because of their respective ages- the fact that they are the seasoned officers of the group, and have a shared sensibility because of their years- or maybe it’s just a camaraderie developing between the three of them of its own volition. Maybe, she thinks, the two men just like her enough to accept her into their inner circle, and that thought sends a thrill running through her. Mostly, though she thinks this triplicate has been a product of a very emotional year, and so she doesn’t hold back in letting them both know that she’s thankful they are her allies.
Provenza excuses himself a few songs later to go to the bar with Sykes and Sanchez when they break their dancing. He gives Andy a warning look out of the corner of his eye, and Sharon notices it but says nothing, instead giving Andy a look of her own.
“Taylor- earlier” he says, downing the last of his drink and putting the glass on the nearest table to be collected later.
“What about Taylor?” she asks, turning to face him squarely, a small frown between her eyes and in the corner of her mouth.
“No, I just saw Provenza talking to his earlier at the bar. He looked all serious, and then gestured to our little group and then walked off. I just wouldn’t mind betting he said something”
“You think it’s serious?” she asks, walking at his direction closer to the back of the room where it’s quieter and slightly less crowded. His hand rests at the small of her back, and the gesture is so familiar she barely notices it, but she does, and she hopes Andy realises that he’s doing it. What else might they have missed?
“I think if we really had a problem we would have been told” he says, serious but seemingly unconcerned. “I also think it’s safe to assume the eyes are on us from upstairs, especially with all the media after our last case”
She nods thoughtfully, not overly worried, but cautious enough. He’s right of course- if Provenza had something to discuss, they would have soon heard about it. That he’s keeping quiet means the threat wasn’t serious, or perhaps wasn’t a threat at all. Taylor wouldn’t be one to cut off the nose to spite the face; he knows that Major Crimes is functioning well under the new system, and that their performance is reflecting well on him. She feels confident that he won’t jeopardise that unless it becomes clear that he has to, and so far she and Andy have been the pinnacle of professional restraint. Even so, her mind whirls.
“Talk to him?” she asks. “The next time you two scurry off for coffee?”
“First, I don’t scurry anywhere”
She grins, and he nudges her with his elbow.
“But I will, first chance I get. Just see what Taylor had to say and why he’s saying it now”
“You don’t think it has anything to do with running into us the other day do you?” she asks, frowning as she thinks over their conduct in front of him at the shops.
“I don’t think so. You’d have been called in for a meeting on Monday morning if it was that”
She only nods, sipping the last of her champagne. She nods her head in time to the beat, content to leave it be for the moment, Andy’s hand finding its way to the small of her back and resting there, warm and heavy. It feels grounding.
The song changes, and the lights dim further, and a soft eighties ballad floats out of the speakers as the various couples in the room partner up and make their way to the dance floor. The evening’s host makes a quick announcement that the slow dances have begun, and Sharon smiles as she watches Sykes deny Sanchez a dance at the bar, a grin on her face and a tease in her eye. The two of them have become good friends, she’s noticed, and she’s glad Amy has settled in and found a place, just as Sharon did before her.
She feels Andy’s hand flex against her back. She turns and places her glass on the table behind them, and then turns to face him, her eyes positively twinkling and matching the knowing smirk on his face.
“Care to dance?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
“I thought you’d never ask” he says, moving his hand and holding out his elbow to escort her to the dance floor.
“Just remember, waist not ass” she mocks, giving him a stern look, reminding them both of that night so long ago when they first danced in her living room. He only grins and shakes his head at her teasing. Anything else he wants to say is not appropriate for eavesdropping, but she knows he’ll get her back later, and that’s promise enough.
He takes her hand and spins her into him, the move familiar enough, though they haven’t made a habit out of dancing in her living room or anything so sentimental. There hasn’t been time, but she thinks it might be fun to make time, and so the only other occasions that they’ve found themselves like this was that first dance that night, and the evening they first kissed, undercover at a ball and disguised as spouses. She has missed this feeling, of swaying in his arms, and if they weren’t surrounded by half of the LAPD she would lean her head on his chest, wrap her arms around his neck and refuse to let him go. She has had a few drinks, but she’s sober enough to stay a respectable distance away, following his slow lead as he looks at her like she’s the only one in the room. It is so damn hard not to kiss him senseless, and for a moment she wonders just how shocked people would be if she did.
Looking around she spots Provenza at the bar, eyeing them with a look she can’t decipher, and she thinks it’s probably best if she just dances with Andy like their colleagues and nothing more.
In keeping with the style of the night, the music remains cheesy and nostalgic; a selection of songs from a bygone era, though the pace is slow and the mood fun. She allows Andy to lead her around for a few songs, and when he whispers in her ear how much he loves her dress but can’t wait to see her out of it, she lets him lead her off the dance floor again. The young ones will stay all night, drinking and laughing and eventually staggering home. Provenza, she thinks, will see out one more drink and then call it a night. She and Andy walk over and say their goodbyes, not caring that they’re seen leaving together, because it’s innocent enough and Provenza is the only one who gives them the eye. It’s fairly late, and she knows that Andy has a very specific activity in mind, and she’s thankful that tomorrow is Saturday.
“Just hope we don’t catch a murder” says Provenza in parting, a conspiratorial smirk on his face, and she could almost blush, but she’s just a little too tipsy to care.
“Good thing you’re on call tonight” she fires back with a smirk. He only laughs at her, and waves them away with a flick of his wrist and a shake of his head.
They walk side by side, not touching, and when they reach the front door he helps her into her jacket and she lets his hand linger on her back as he escorts her to his car. She sings along to the radio all the way back to her place, because he had picked her up and they don’t want to have to worry about cars, and Andy just watches her and smiles. She’s funny when she’s had a drink and allows herself to just loosen up. They laugh all the way up to her apartment, recalling the people they ran into over the course of the night and the new stories they have to tell. She drops her bag on the sideboard by the door as he closes the door behind him.
He spins her around suddenly, planting his lips on hers like he’s wanted to do all night, and she moans and slowly, careful of her heals, walks back towards her room, holding him firmly to her, her eyes closed. He sheds his jackets as he’s going, and helps her do the same, and even though Rusty isn’t home until later tomorrow, she kicks her door closed.
And then they spend the rest of the night moving together with their clothes off, and gosh, isn’t that just her favourite kind of dancing.