This... date-thing
Horrible Histories (BBC) | Mike Peabody/D.I. Bones | PG | slashy | 2023 words | 18.10.11 | written for this promt at hhanon: They banter, they flirt, they get on ridiculously well... but when it comes to actually going any further, they just don't know how to approach each other about it.
It was a good feeling to return to the snake-free saneness of HHTV studios. - Well, as sane as anything in proximity of Bob Hale could be. Bones took a quick glance around pretending not to look for something special. He was sitting behind Sam's desk, carefully readjusting the duct tape 'press' badge on the bullet-proof vest. Bones scowled when he cought himself straightening his coat and taking a deep breath.
“Bones, you're back! And you - Is that blood? - You've got blood on your coat.“
So much for impressing the journalist with the perfect state of his clothes. Smooth.
“Yes, it appears beating a child to death is a quite messy affair.” He tried to sound a lot more at ease than he actually felt, because they'd both seen worse - although at the moment he really couldn't remember what.
Mike swallowed. “Aztecs?” Oh, right, the Aztecs had been worse.
“Inca, actually. Called me originally because someone stole a llama...”
The journalist got up and placed a comforting hand on Bones' shoulder. “That sucks.”
“It's what I do.” Retrieving llamas and watching homicides. Because that's why he became a police officer in the first place. Right. “Judging by the look of your vest your day wasn't fun either?”
Mike smiled sticking a finger through one of the arrow holes. “Battle of the Teutoburg Forest.”
Bones shook his head. “Really, you should reconsider the vest.”
“Why? It's bullet-proof. Might one day save my life.” His smile was wide and playful and of course they'd had this argument about a billion times before. It was tradition by now.
“Exactly. It's bullet-proof. Doesn't help against arrows or swords or knifes or daggers or anything you usually encounter.”
Mike's grin became unsettingly cocky. “Be that as it will, it suits me.”
And really that was just cheating. How could he possibly argue with that? “According to your underage fangirls?”
“Jealous?”
“Would you mind getting out of the way? Some of us have work to do.” Sam shot them a disapproving look and made a 'shoo'-ing motion with her laptop. Not even one of Mike's most dazzling smiles seemed to work on her so they made way, trotting off in direction of the dressing rooms.
“Actually, I should probably get to the paper work. And take the coat to the dry cleaner's.”
“I could take it, have to go to the tailor anyway.”
Bones raised an eyebrow. “Well, thanks, that'd be great.”
Mike smiled and how was it this tentative, friendly smile of all things that made Bones fear he would melt on the spot? It was part of Mike's job to be charming, it really shouldn't work on him. Not that well, anyway.
“So...”
“Oh, yes, right.” He got the dictaphone out of the pocket and then slipped out of the coat, convolving it before he handed it over.
Mike gave him a once-over and Bones tried not to shift uncomfortably. “What?”
“I think I've never seen you without your coat”, Mike said sounding oddly lost in thought. Then he shrugged out of it. “Your hair style doesn't work without it though.”
Bones raised an eyebrow. “Really? Discussing hair styles?”
“You need it.”
“And you're just jealous you can't pull it off.”
The other man seemed to consider that for a moment. “It does look good on you. In a very odd way.”
“Are you flirting with me?” Bones didn't just turn bright red. No. But the nonplussed look on Mike's face was totally worth it.
“You wish.”
“Probably.” Wow. Where did that one just come from?
For a few seconds they just stared at each other. It was Bones who turned away. “Work. I've got to work.” But he couldn't quite bring himself to walk away.
“Yeah... and I should... - So, what do I get for dropping off your coat at the dry cleaner's?” Mike sounded decidedly not-cocky. Almost... shy.
Bones shot him a quick glance. “What do you want?”
“Dinner. Or lunch. You could buy me lunch tomorrow.” And he smiled this smile...
“Sounds reasonable.”
The smile grew into something more confident. “See you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah...” Bones watched when Mike left for the dressing rooms. Minutes after the other man had left, he switched on the dictaphone. “I may or may not have a very strange date with Mike Peabody. Also, there is evidence that suggests I'm going mad. Not sure if I care.”
“A date?“
“Or something.“
“So it's not a date?“
“Probably not, it's just strange...”
“You two would make the most adorable couple in the history of, like, ever. - And I know, I've reported from practically any royal wedding there ever was.”
Bones stared at her disbelievingly. “I don't think I want to reenact any kind of royal wedding with Mike.”
“That's a pity.” Jessica seemed genuinely disappointed and Bones tried to remember why he'd told her about this whole mess. Oh, right, he hadn't, she'd just overheard him recording his thoughts. He really should stop doing that, had the Caligula incident taught him nothing?
“But you want to have a date, don't you?”
He could feel his face turning bright red. “I don't know?”
She shook her head, ever so knowingly. “Yes, you do.”
“...Yes, I do.”
“So...” Her smile was unsettingly wide. “Want help with that?”
“No.”
“Need help?”
Bones spluttered and then just shrugged. So maybe he needed help. His last date had been ages ago (literally, it had been with the son of a Roman senator and it had ended... badly) and he'd fantasised about taking Mike over the news desk for months, so a little help couldn't hurt, right?
“First of all, lunch in the studio's canteen isn't a date.”
That sounded quite... true. “But that's the deal.”
Jessica crossed her arms. “So tell him, no, you'll take him to a proper restaurant.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes. And wear something nice. Not your coat.”
“What's wrong with my coat?”
She just rolled her eyes. “Oh dear...”
Mike Peabody had reported live from the Battle of Thermopylae, various Viking invasions and plague-ridden England. He'd been nearly sacrificed to some Aztec god and had stayed a week in a Norman dungeon but nothing of that had been as terrifying as this... date-thing. Bloody Bones suggesting 'proper dinner in a proper restaurant' instead of perfectly innocent lunch in the canteen.
But Mike Peabody didn't run away. - He just really wished he was somewhere else. The middle of the Great Fire of London, for example.
Taking a deep breath he pushed open the little Italian restaurant's door. It was dimmly lit, somewhere between cozy and romantic. So Bones had good taste. That was reassuring.
And he was already there, sitting at a table in a corner talking to his dictaphone. Of course. It was strangely endearing.
“Afraid I'll murder you tonight?”
Bones hurriedly shoved the dictaphone into one of the jacket pockets and managed the most adorable awkward half-smile. “You can't be too careful these days.”
“Charming, inspector. Charming.”
“I'm paying for your food, don't complain.”
Mike sat down on the chair opposing Bones'. He wasn't going to complain. “Where's your surrogate coat?”
He was surprised to see Bones blush. “Well I was informed it's 'a ratty old thing, ridiculous and quite frankly horribly ugly'.”
“Sounds a lot like Miss Harvey-Smythe. - I kind of like the ratty old thing.”
Bones' face turned a rather alarming shade of red. “That's... that's good.”
Awkward silence spread between them and Mike stared at the menu without reading anything. This was possibly the worst date ever. And maybe it wasn't even a date because Bones' probably just was being nice and didn't know Mike wanted to press him against the next wall and kiss him senseless and ruffle up that ridiculous hair style... For a moment he thought about doing just that but figured it was logistically tricky because he would have to drag Bones from his chair and a few meters to the next wall. Also it really wouldn't make things less awkward if Bones wasn't interested.
So he just stared.
“Found something? Or are you still searching for the most expensive meal?”
“Hu?” He looked up and was greeted by a mocking grin and the friendly smile of the waiter standing next to Bones. “Oh, yes, no... spaghetti Bolognese?” Because that was always a safe guess.
“Very well.” The waiter turned and Mike felt the need to slap himself. It was just a maybe-date. Nothing he couldn't handle. He was good with friends and really good with dates, so...
“I ordered some red wine, hope that's okay with you?”
He smiled thankfully and felt delighted when Bones replied and his gorgeous eyes practically sparkled. And then his mind had to turn back to the coat-conversation and really, why was Jessica so concerned about this coat? If not... “So you and Jess, are you two...?”
“Oh? - Hell no! ...I mean, she's nice and all but no, not quite my area.” Bones answered, obviously flustered. “We just talked and...”
“Not your area? So what's your area?” Mike asked against better judgement. Bones was hardly going to say 'You.' and grab him.
Bones quirked a brow. “Well, apparently not women. Or it's just not reporters.” He smiled cheekily and Mike laughed although he wasn't sure he ought to and suddenly this whole thing felt a whole lot less awkward.
“How was your date?”
Bones jumped, almost knocking into Mike. “What?”
“How do you know?”, Mike asked alarmed and suspiciously not-denyingly and Bones couldn't help but smile foolishly. So it had been a date.
“Oh, good old Bobsy has his ways. So, how was it? Laughter and happiness and kisses?” He looked at them and when they blushed he started to grin. “Only not the latter, I assume?”
“Pretty much”, croaked Mike and Bones tried to will himself to stop blushing. But Bob just grinned.
“That's good. Or not that good for you two, probably, but good enough. So, do you think you could delay the whole kissing part for about... a week?” He checked his wrist watch. “Yes a week's delay would be great, don't you think so? You wouldn't want to rush things.”
“Bob...” Bones didn't know where to start first. “What...?”
He leaned in to them, smiling conspiratorially. “If you could postpone the snogging I could make a small fortune and then take out Sam for a date or buy a helicopter or something”, he explained as though that was perfectly logical.
“What?” Mike raised a brow and glanced at Bones but he shook his head, confused.
“Let's just say the sports guys have a bidding pool on you two and if you start kissing immediately Jessica might win. But next weekend... Thank you guys, I knew I could count on you.” And with that he skipped off humming the Macarena leaving Mike and Bones standing in the hallway, dumbstruck.
“So... we really had a date?”, Bones finally asked.
Mike smiled. “You're kind of slow. Being an inspector and everything...”
“Well, it's your job to know of the latest news, not mine.”
They smiled at each other and it was a very perfect, very girly moment.
“Maybe we should get back to work...”
“Right. Good idea.” Bones shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Well, then... I'll see you around.”
“Yes. ...And dinner? Next friday?”
“We owe it to Bob, don't we?” He tried really hard not to jump the reporter right then and there.
“I suppose...”
“Can't wait for it.”
“Me neither.”
It was a good feeling to return to the snake-free saneness of HHTV studios. - Well, as sane as anything in proximity of Bob Hale could be. Bones took a quick glance around pretending not to look for something special. He was sitting behind Sam's desk, carefully readjusting the duct tape 'press' badge on the bullet-proof vest. Bones scowled when he cought himself straightening his coat and taking a deep breath.
“Bones, you're back! And you - Is that blood? - You've got blood on your coat.“
So much for impressing the journalist with the perfect state of his clothes. Smooth.
“Yes, it appears beating a child to death is a quite messy affair.” He tried to sound a lot more at ease than he actually felt, because they'd both seen worse - although at the moment he really couldn't remember what.
Mike swallowed. “Aztecs?” Oh, right, the Aztecs had been worse.
“Inca, actually. Called me originally because someone stole a llama...”
The journalist got up and placed a comforting hand on Bones' shoulder. “That sucks.”
“It's what I do.” Retrieving llamas and watching homicides. Because that's why he became a police officer in the first place. Right. “Judging by the look of your vest your day wasn't fun either?”
Mike smiled sticking a finger through one of the arrow holes. “Battle of the Teutoburg Forest.”
Bones shook his head. “Really, you should reconsider the vest.”
“Why? It's bullet-proof. Might one day save my life.” His smile was wide and playful and of course they'd had this argument about a billion times before. It was tradition by now.
“Exactly. It's bullet-proof. Doesn't help against arrows or swords or knifes or daggers or anything you usually encounter.”
Mike's grin became unsettingly cocky. “Be that as it will, it suits me.”
And really that was just cheating. How could he possibly argue with that? “According to your underage fangirls?”
“Jealous?”
“Would you mind getting out of the way? Some of us have work to do.” Sam shot them a disapproving look and made a 'shoo'-ing motion with her laptop. Not even one of Mike's most dazzling smiles seemed to work on her so they made way, trotting off in direction of the dressing rooms.
“Actually, I should probably get to the paper work. And take the coat to the dry cleaner's.”
“I could take it, have to go to the tailor anyway.”
Bones raised an eyebrow. “Well, thanks, that'd be great.”
Mike smiled and how was it this tentative, friendly smile of all things that made Bones fear he would melt on the spot? It was part of Mike's job to be charming, it really shouldn't work on him. Not that well, anyway.
“So...”
“Oh, yes, right.” He got the dictaphone out of the pocket and then slipped out of the coat, convolving it before he handed it over.
Mike gave him a once-over and Bones tried not to shift uncomfortably. “What?”
“I think I've never seen you without your coat”, Mike said sounding oddly lost in thought. Then he shrugged out of it. “Your hair style doesn't work without it though.”
Bones raised an eyebrow. “Really? Discussing hair styles?”
“You need it.”
“And you're just jealous you can't pull it off.”
The other man seemed to consider that for a moment. “It does look good on you. In a very odd way.”
“Are you flirting with me?” Bones didn't just turn bright red. No. But the nonplussed look on Mike's face was totally worth it.
“You wish.”
“Probably.” Wow. Where did that one just come from?
For a few seconds they just stared at each other. It was Bones who turned away. “Work. I've got to work.” But he couldn't quite bring himself to walk away.
“Yeah... and I should... - So, what do I get for dropping off your coat at the dry cleaner's?” Mike sounded decidedly not-cocky. Almost... shy.
Bones shot him a quick glance. “What do you want?”
“Dinner. Or lunch. You could buy me lunch tomorrow.” And he smiled this smile...
“Sounds reasonable.”
The smile grew into something more confident. “See you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah...” Bones watched when Mike left for the dressing rooms. Minutes after the other man had left, he switched on the dictaphone. “I may or may not have a very strange date with Mike Peabody. Also, there is evidence that suggests I'm going mad. Not sure if I care.”
“A date?“
“Or something.“
“So it's not a date?“
“Probably not, it's just strange...”
“You two would make the most adorable couple in the history of, like, ever. - And I know, I've reported from practically any royal wedding there ever was.”
Bones stared at her disbelievingly. “I don't think I want to reenact any kind of royal wedding with Mike.”
“That's a pity.” Jessica seemed genuinely disappointed and Bones tried to remember why he'd told her about this whole mess. Oh, right, he hadn't, she'd just overheard him recording his thoughts. He really should stop doing that, had the Caligula incident taught him nothing?
“But you want to have a date, don't you?”
He could feel his face turning bright red. “I don't know?”
She shook her head, ever so knowingly. “Yes, you do.”
“...Yes, I do.”
“So...” Her smile was unsettingly wide. “Want help with that?”
“No.”
“Need help?”
Bones spluttered and then just shrugged. So maybe he needed help. His last date had been ages ago (literally, it had been with the son of a Roman senator and it had ended... badly) and he'd fantasised about taking Mike over the news desk for months, so a little help couldn't hurt, right?
“First of all, lunch in the studio's canteen isn't a date.”
That sounded quite... true. “But that's the deal.”
Jessica crossed her arms. “So tell him, no, you'll take him to a proper restaurant.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes. And wear something nice. Not your coat.”
“What's wrong with my coat?”
She just rolled her eyes. “Oh dear...”
Mike Peabody had reported live from the Battle of Thermopylae, various Viking invasions and plague-ridden England. He'd been nearly sacrificed to some Aztec god and had stayed a week in a Norman dungeon but nothing of that had been as terrifying as this... date-thing. Bloody Bones suggesting 'proper dinner in a proper restaurant' instead of perfectly innocent lunch in the canteen.
But Mike Peabody didn't run away. - He just really wished he was somewhere else. The middle of the Great Fire of London, for example.
Taking a deep breath he pushed open the little Italian restaurant's door. It was dimmly lit, somewhere between cozy and romantic. So Bones had good taste. That was reassuring.
And he was already there, sitting at a table in a corner talking to his dictaphone. Of course. It was strangely endearing.
“Afraid I'll murder you tonight?”
Bones hurriedly shoved the dictaphone into one of the jacket pockets and managed the most adorable awkward half-smile. “You can't be too careful these days.”
“Charming, inspector. Charming.”
“I'm paying for your food, don't complain.”
Mike sat down on the chair opposing Bones'. He wasn't going to complain. “Where's your surrogate coat?”
He was surprised to see Bones blush. “Well I was informed it's 'a ratty old thing, ridiculous and quite frankly horribly ugly'.”
“Sounds a lot like Miss Harvey-Smythe. - I kind of like the ratty old thing.”
Bones' face turned a rather alarming shade of red. “That's... that's good.”
Awkward silence spread between them and Mike stared at the menu without reading anything. This was possibly the worst date ever. And maybe it wasn't even a date because Bones' probably just was being nice and didn't know Mike wanted to press him against the next wall and kiss him senseless and ruffle up that ridiculous hair style... For a moment he thought about doing just that but figured it was logistically tricky because he would have to drag Bones from his chair and a few meters to the next wall. Also it really wouldn't make things less awkward if Bones wasn't interested.
So he just stared.
“Found something? Or are you still searching for the most expensive meal?”
“Hu?” He looked up and was greeted by a mocking grin and the friendly smile of the waiter standing next to Bones. “Oh, yes, no... spaghetti Bolognese?” Because that was always a safe guess.
“Very well.” The waiter turned and Mike felt the need to slap himself. It was just a maybe-date. Nothing he couldn't handle. He was good with friends and really good with dates, so...
“I ordered some red wine, hope that's okay with you?”
He smiled thankfully and felt delighted when Bones replied and his gorgeous eyes practically sparkled. And then his mind had to turn back to the coat-conversation and really, why was Jessica so concerned about this coat? If not... “So you and Jess, are you two...?”
“Oh? - Hell no! ...I mean, she's nice and all but no, not quite my area.” Bones answered, obviously flustered. “We just talked and...”
“Not your area? So what's your area?” Mike asked against better judgement. Bones was hardly going to say 'You.' and grab him.
Bones quirked a brow. “Well, apparently not women. Or it's just not reporters.” He smiled cheekily and Mike laughed although he wasn't sure he ought to and suddenly this whole thing felt a whole lot less awkward.
“How was your date?”
Bones jumped, almost knocking into Mike. “What?”
“How do you know?”, Mike asked alarmed and suspiciously not-denyingly and Bones couldn't help but smile foolishly. So it had been a date.
“Oh, good old Bobsy has his ways. So, how was it? Laughter and happiness and kisses?” He looked at them and when they blushed he started to grin. “Only not the latter, I assume?”
“Pretty much”, croaked Mike and Bones tried to will himself to stop blushing. But Bob just grinned.
“That's good. Or not that good for you two, probably, but good enough. So, do you think you could delay the whole kissing part for about... a week?” He checked his wrist watch. “Yes a week's delay would be great, don't you think so? You wouldn't want to rush things.”
“Bob...” Bones didn't know where to start first. “What...?”
He leaned in to them, smiling conspiratorially. “If you could postpone the snogging I could make a small fortune and then take out Sam for a date or buy a helicopter or something”, he explained as though that was perfectly logical.
“What?” Mike raised a brow and glanced at Bones but he shook his head, confused.
“Let's just say the sports guys have a bidding pool on you two and if you start kissing immediately Jessica might win. But next weekend... Thank you guys, I knew I could count on you.” And with that he skipped off humming the Macarena leaving Mike and Bones standing in the hallway, dumbstruck.
“So... we really had a date?”, Bones finally asked.
Mike smiled. “You're kind of slow. Being an inspector and everything...”
“Well, it's your job to know of the latest news, not mine.”
They smiled at each other and it was a very perfect, very girly moment.
“Maybe we should get back to work...”
“Right. Good idea.” Bones shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Well, then... I'll see you around.”
“Yes. ...And dinner? Next friday?”
“We owe it to Bob, don't we?” He tried really hard not to jump the reporter right then and there.
“I suppose...”
“Can't wait for it.”
“Me neither.”