Lewis Challenge Fic: Intelligent Solutions 2/2
Title: Intelligent Solutions
Author: wendymr
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Laura Hobson, Jean Innocent; Robbie Lewis/Laura Hobson; Robbie Lewis/James Hathaway
Rated: PG
Spoilers: All the way to 7:04, Intelligent Design
Summary: “It’s not quite that simple.” James is resigning, Robbie is retiring - or are they?
With many thanks to lindenharp and uniquepov for patient and helpful BRing and listening to me whinge about this on IM, and to sasha1600 for being kind enough to read chunks pasted in IM and tell me she didn't hate it ;) Written for the Summer Challenge 2013 on lewis_challenge.
Part 1
James doesn’t say anything at work the following morning, but shortly before noon he pushes back his chair. “I’m taking you out for lunch. Pie and chips at the Perch?”
“It’s not pensioners’ special day,” Robbie points out dryly as he follows James out of the office.
James turns, a smirk hovering briefly on his lips. “I think I can stretch to full price. We might have to share a dessert, though.”
An image flashes into Robbie’s mind of James holding a forkful of some fancy gateau out to him, and he flushes and looks away. “Get on with you.”
At the pub, James waits until they’re sitting outside, and he’s lit a cigarette. Then, leaning across the table to Robbie, he asks, “How did things go with Laura?”
Robbie feels his mouth turn down at the corners. “Got the old heave-ho, didn’t I?”
“What?” James’s eyes widen and his jaw slackens. “She dumped you? What on earth for? That just - no, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Does to her. And, if I’m honest, to me as well.” He explains as best he can. It’s surprisingly easy to tell James, as well as a bit cathartic - though he doesn’t mention Laura’s suggestion about him and James. In the cold light of day, he’s concluded that she was imagining things that aren’t there, maybe out of guilt. It’s all nonsense anyway, and he’s not going to give it another thought.
“I am sorry,” James says when he’s got to the end of the tale. “You seemed so happy when the two of you finally got together. To be honest, I was expecting any day that you’d tell me you were getting married.”
Robbie goes still at that. What does it say about his relationship with Laura that the thought of marriage never even crossed his mind? Oh, she was right; they really had just fallen into it because it was comfortable, easy. Which might have been okay, but she did deserve more. Maybe so does he, except he’s really not looking for it.
“Ah, it’s fine,” he assures James. “Really. I’m sorry it’s over, of course, an’ I’ll miss having her around, but doesn’t it tell you something that I’m not devastated?” James nods once, slowly. “Mind, you might have to put up with me a bit more, at least while I get used to bein’ on me own again.”
James frowns at that. “I hope I’ve never given you the impression that spending time with you outside work is a chore. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Well, then.” Robbie picks up his glass and tilts it towards James, who raises his in return. “Dinner an’ crap telly at mine tonight?”
“Sure - no, I can’t. I’ve got band practice tonight. A drink afterwards instead?”
“Actually, can I come and listen? I can’t believe it’s been almost eight years an’ I’ve never heard your band play. Well, except on your ipod thingy, but that’s not the same.”
James’s smile is bashful but clearly pleased. “I’d like that very much.”
___________________________________________
The rehearsal is early, and it’s over by just after half eight. The music’s not really to Robbie’s taste, and he suspects he doesn’t actually understand it, but he can appreciate the quality of the performances - especially James’s. The bloke plays the guitar like a genius, all intensity and concentration mingled with flashes of awe and love on his face as his fingers move like lightning across the strings. Stroking them like a lo- Robbie stifles that thought at birth and makes himself go over to congratulate James, keeping his praise matter-of-fact. James still blushes endearingly and seems so pleased that Robbie mentally kicks himself for not having done this years ago.
As they leave the church together, Robbie suggests, “How about coming back to mine instead of going to the pub? I’ve got some salmon in the fridge that needs using.”
“Sounds good. I can stop at the off-licence on the way, if you like.”
“Nah, got plenty. Just bring yourself - and something to change into, if you’d like to get out of your suit.”
Dinner’s relaxed and casual in front of the telly, but after they’ve shared a bottle of wine it’s agreed that James should stay the night rather than drive. Robbie gets the pillow and blankets that now live in the hall cupboard for James’s use, but pauses as he’s carrying them back into the living room. Laura was right to point out what a good friend James is to him - and here he makes the bloke contort himself onto a sofa that’s too short for him and probably uncomfortable as well, after James has been kind enough to keep him company for the evening.
“Fancy helping me to find a new flat?” He drops the bedding on the couch and quirks an eyebrow in James’s direction.
“Moving again? How many times is that since we’ve met?” James asks, sounding amused.
Robbie ignores the dig. “I want somewhere with two bedrooms. You’re long past the stage when you should be expected to kip on someone’s couch.”
For a moment or two, James seems lost for words. Then he says, “I really don’t mind, Robbie. You don’t need to do this just for my benefit.”
“It’s for my benefit too. I won’t feel guilty about inviting you over if I know I’ve got a decent spare bed available when we’ve had a couple of drinks.”
“Well, thank you,” James says, touching Robbie’s arm briefly. “And my back thanks you as well.” He bends and moves the decorative cushions to the floor. “I’ll take a look at the letting agents’ websites tomorrow, yeah? Let me know what your price-range is and what areas you like, and I can get you a shortlist.”
“I was thinking more in terms of you coming to look at flats with me,” Robbie points out gently. “Not doin’ all the spadework.”
James smiles. “I’d be happy to. At least it’ll give me the chance to check out clearance.” He brushes the top of his head.
“Oh?”
“Did you know I had to duck every time I went upstairs at Laura’s, otherwise I risked getting my head clobbered on the ceiling halfway up the stairs?”
Robbie laughs. “Shouldn’t be so tall, then, should you?”
___________________________________________
For a few weeks, then, walking trips are replaced by viewings of flats, followed by animated discussions over a pint or two about the merits of the latest batch. At first, James defers to Robbie - “You’re the one who’s going to be living there” - but is easily persuaded to give an opinion when Robbie points out that he’s never shied away from airing his point of view in the past, and why stop now?
The eventual choice is the converted ground floor of a Georgian detached house - not in Summertown; Robbie couldn’t bring himself to live in that bastion of posh academic establishment - but on the way to Marston. Convenient for their favourite pub, James comments in its favour; good off-street parking and a back garden where he could plant some vegetables if he wants, and where James can smoke without looking like he’s loitering with intent, Robbie counters.
The move is accomplished over a weekend, with the aid of a Transit van and a couple of James’s band-mates, and by the Sunday evening Robbie is mostly set up, with the essentials unpacked and furniture in its allotted place, including the new bedroom furniture he ordered on the sly and had delivered the previous day. The flat’s got two bathrooms, which will save time when James sleeps there on a work-night, and the living area is mostly open-plan, with a large kitchen and eating area and a wide arch into the sitting-room.
“I haven’t had enough space to sprawl out on the floor in years!” James exclaims, throwing himself down in front of the sofa with his head back against the seat cushions.
“Not since you hit your growth spurt, I’d imagine,” Robbie comments. Without thinking, he reaches out and ruffles James’s hair. He’s about to apologise as he draws his hand back, but just as he opens his mouth to speak James glances around at him, a smile on his lips that Robbie can only describe as happy.
Well, if James likes Robbie feeling comfortable enough to touch him with that sort of affectionate teasing, Robbie’s fine with it.
“Should bring some of your clothes over, now you’ve got space for them,” he says after a bit. “Spare razor, toothbrush, that sort of thing, too.”
“Cafetiere, wok, coffee-grinder, teapot...” James adds with a smirk.
Robbie cuffs the back of his head lightly. “Cheeky sod.” With a grin, he reaches into his pocket for the spare key to the flat, and throws it in an underarm lob onto James’s lap. “Any time you want to come over while I’m not here an’ use any of that stuff to cook me dinner, I won’t complain.”
James picks up the key, gripping it tightly in his hand for a long moment before digging in his pocket for his keyring. “Tofu and bean curry with brown rice all right?”
___________________________________________
“Tell me I was never such a bloody stupid tosser as that,” Robbie exclaims with a disgusted look one rainy evening in late December as they run from his car to the front door.
James laughs as he follows Robbie inside, stamping his feet to shake off the worst of the wet. “You didn’t much like technology when we first worked together. Took me months to train you on how to read texts on your phone - and as for emails, there were times I thought you’d never manage it.”
“Well, if they’d only make phone keyboards for people without perfect eyesight or spindly fingers...” Robbie grumbles. “Still, at least I never refused to read me email. Is it any wonder Logan’s case reports are such a mess?”
“It’s his poor sergeant I feel sorry for,” James says with feeling, moving to put the kettle on. “She does her best, but when her governor gives her scrappy, hand-written notes to work from and won’t even read the criminal profiling reports because he doesn’t trust that mumbo-jumbo, it’s no wonder she’s frustrated. He’s not just a bad detective; he’s wrecking her career.”
“And putting forward cases CPS can’t prosecute,” Robbie adds. “Should have been put out to grass long ago.” He sets out mugs and the tea-caddy. “Gonna talk to Innocent about him tomorrow. And, yes, about Barnes too. She deserves a decent governor.”
“Someone who’ll encourage her and make her feel valued,” James adds, warming the pot. “Someone like you.”
“Thanks, but I’m not available.”
“No, you’re not.” And Robbie could swear that the look James gives him is pure possession. Then James jabs him with his elbow and demands the tea-caddy, and it’s gone - but not forgotten.
___________________________________________
“Glad you came?” Robbie aims a rueful grin in James’s direction.
“Absolutely! I’ve always wanted to get soaked to the skin in a Shropshire forest in February.” James shakes one foot. “I’m not sure my shoes will ever recover.”
“Ah, you’re too soft, lad. Call this rain? It’s nothing but a bit o’ drizzle,” Robbie retorts with a grin. A loud thunder-clap echoes overhead, and he groans, more in relief than at being proved wrong. “All right, best get back to the B&B, then.”
Even jogging, it takes more than half an hour to get back to where Robbie’s car is parked at the edge of Mortimer Forest, and they’re both shivering as they climb inside and Robbie turns the heat on full blast. “Not the best idea I’ve ever had,” he concedes wryly as he wrestles himself out of his anorak.
“What, a weekend in the Welsh Marches at this time of year? What could possibly have been wrong with that?” James replies, tone dry as a desert.
“Well, there is one good thing,” Robbie says as he starts the car.
“What’s that?”
“The B&B’s attached to a pub. We don’t have to go out in the rain to get a pint. Or dinner, if the menu’s any good.”
“Thank goodness for small mercies.” James is looking up the Church Inn in Ludlow on his phone, at first getting directions and then, as Robbie gets onto the right road, checking the menu. “Looks good to me. I should think it’ll even satisfy your preference for red meat and plenty of carbohydrates.”
“Good. No goin’ out again this evening, then.” Robbie smiles in grim satisfaction. “We should’ve done this sooner, y’know. October, before the weather changed. I meant to suggest it, but we were flat-hunting for me, and then Innocent wanted the training plan, an’ then it was Christmas.” Which he’d spent in Manchester; although it’d been great spending time with Lyn, Tim and the bairn, he’d kept wondering what James was doing and kicking himself for not asking the bloke to come with him - and then wondering why on earth he’d think that James would even want to.
“I’d like to do this again, actually,” James says as they turn into the car park. “Not this, precisely, of course - I’d like better weather, if nothing else - but getting away from Oxford for a couple of days. Maybe even further afield, if you’d like - a long weekend in Scotland or Ireland might be nice.”
“Val an’ me talked about going to Ireland,” Robbie comments, turning off the engine. It feels strange that he can talk about her now without the pang of loss that’s been there for so long - but good, because he can remember her the way she should be remembered, without the pain and anguish. “Never got around to it, though. We thought a week, ten days, just driving around the coast an’ staying in a different place every night.” He glances at James. “You fancy that?”
“Very much. If you’re sure you want to spend that much of your holiday allowance with me.”
Robbie shakes his head. “Ah, man, who else would I spend it with?” He reaches for the door-handle. “Come on, let’s make a run for it before the thunder starts again.”
___________________________________________
Fortunately, their room is ready - they opted to share a twin-bedded room rather than go for two singles - and so they take turns to have a hot shower and dress in dry clothes before heading down to the pub.
“Come on, own up - this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” James raises his pint with a grin. “Getting me to spend the afternoon in a pub with you?”
“If it had been, I’d have found a way that didn’t involve both of us risking pneumonia first!” He sneezes. “I still might end up with it. How’s your bedside manner?”
“Probably about as good as your database skills.” Putting down his pint, James leans across the table and lays his hand on Robbie’s. “But for you, I’d make an exception,” he murmurs in what Robbie recognises as his ‘phone sex’ voice. “I’d sit beside you and soothe your fevered brow.”
Christ, he’s feeling warm inside. “Give over, you.” He pulls his hand away, but misses the warmth immediately. “Go on, do something useful and get us the menus.”
After an excellent meal, and a shared dessert, followed by another couple of pints, they take a stroll outside so James can have a final couple of cigarettes. It’s not raining now, and the sky’s clear, with stars visible on the western horizon.
“Thank you - for suggesting this,” James says as they near the pub again. “I’d thought a couple of times about longer trips, but I wasn’t sure you’d consider an overnight stay.”
“You might be sorry in the morning,” Robbie quips. “After all, according to Laura, I snore. Kept her awake half the night.”
In the street-light, he sees James’s faint grin. “When you’ve slept in dormitories at a boys’ boarding school, nothing keeps you awake. I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Soon find out, won’t we?” He loops an arm around James’s shoulders. “Bed, James. An’ no waking me before the sun’s up, even if you are gasping for a smoke.”
“I will be the perfect sleeping partner, I promise,” James says, deadpan, and jogs inside and up the stairs.
___________________________________________
“Robbie, any chance you could meet me for a coffee?”
“What, now?” Laura’s phoned him at the office. They’ve stayed in touch, and as time’s gone by have met for drinks or coffee occasionally. He hasn’t met Franco, who is still very much in the picture, though Laura’s hinted at dinner a couple of times. His reluctance has been more out of consideration for Franco than his own feelings; he’s not sure how he’d feel about having a meal with an ex-partner of someone he was in love with.
“If you’re free.”
He glances at James. “Mind if I disappear for half an hour or so?” James, busy at his computer, makes a go on gesture. “Be there shortly,” he tells Laura.
They’re comfortable these days again, him and Laura; he kisses her cheek when he arrives, and they banter about incompetent forensics and SOCO staff and coppers and doctors who have no manners and expect miracles in no time at all. It’s nearly twenty minutes before she gets to the reason she asked him to meet her.
“I have some news, Robbie. I wanted to tell you myself, not have you hear...”
Her smile’s a bit awkward, and he nods reassuringly. “Go on, love.”
“Franco and I are getting married. Just a small ceremony, close friends and family. It’s next month at the Old Parsonage on the Banbury Road. We-”
She’s almost babbling in her agitation. Robbie reaches across and covers her wrist with his hand. “I’m very happy for you, love. I mean it - I’m glad you’ve found the right person for you. I wish you every happiness.”
Her smile lights up her face. “I’m glad. I’ve felt guilty - I treated you badly-”
“You didn’t,” he insists. “Told you at the time, you were right. Now, I hope I’m one of those close friends who’s getting an invitation to your wedding?”
“Of course you are. Actually,” she adds with an impish grin that’s more like the Laura he knows, “I wanted to ask you about that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. Should I invite James separately, or will you be bringing him as your plus-one?”
Robbie almost chokes on his coffee.
It only takes a few moments, though, to acknowledge that it’s not that ridiculous an idea. “Suppose it makes sense. I’d be going on me own otherwise, and if you’d be inviting James as well we’d end up going together anyway.”
He’s half-expecting an I told you so, and is relieved when she just smiles at him over the rim of her coffee-cup.
___________________________________________
Back at the office, James gives him an enquiring look as soon as he comes in. He can’t resist a smirk as he says, “Get your best party frock ironed. You’ve pulled.” (They’ve been watching Ashes to Ashes together lately. Robbie doesn’t quite fancy himself as Gene Hunt, bad policing methods aside, but couldn’t resist just now).
James blinks, apparently speechless. Robbie perches on the edge of his desk and explains. “Laura’s getting married. Told her I’d bring you as me date so she wouldn’t need to send you a separate invitation.”
James’s stunned look turns into a cheeky grin. “I’ll expect at least a couple of dances with you, then. On one condition: absolutely no Barry Manilow!”
Robbie snorts. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. “Long as you remember I lead.”
___________________________________________
The wedding’s on a beautiful, sunny day in early May, and James is playing the part of Robbie’s date with far too much enjoyment for Robbie’s peace of mind. He stayed at Robbie’s the night before, at Robbie’s suggestion, so that they could set off together with the minimum of fuss. While James hasn’t, obviously, gone so far as to wear a dress for the occasion, he’s just produced matching ties and buttonholes.
It feels ridiculous, but Robbie knows Laura will be amused, so he goes along with it - and with James sliding his hand through Robbie’s elbow as they walk into the hotel. Daft bugger.
The ceremony’s taking place in a small function room, with dinner afterwards in a private dining room. As they follow the signs for the Hobson-Lopez wedding, the first person Robbie recognises is Innocent. He also sees the exact moment she spots James’s hand on his arm. Bollocks. His first instinct is to pull away, but in that same moment he notices James’s face. The bloke knows that he’ll detach himself hurriedly and make some kind of embarrassed excuse to Innocent, and James is resigned to it.
Well, bollocks to that. James is his best mate, and if he can’t have a laugh with his best mate off-duty... So he draws himself to his full height, puts on his most polite smile, and advances towards his boss. “Very nice dress, if I can say so, ma’am.”
If it was anyone other than Innocent, he’d say she was close to blushing. “Well, thank you, Robbie. And I must say, you and James look very dapper.” She drops her gaze to their joined arms. “Is there something you two haven’t told me?”
“I couldn’t get a date for today,” James says, his tone full of exaggerated disappointment. “Chief Inspector Lewis very kindly took pity on me.”
Innocent gives them a look of exasperated disbelief, but fails to hide the smile that immediately follows.
The wedding’s short but moving, and Laura looks gorgeous. Franco can’t keep his eyes off her, and Robbie’s glad once again that Laura had the courage and initiative to end things between them. Looks like this bloke’s the right one for her - just like he was the right one for his Val. There’s a lump in his throat as Laura and Franco turn to the assembled guests, hand in hand as husband and wife.
A hand slides over his and presses gently before being removed. He glances sideways at James, who appears to have his entire focus on Laura and Franco; but Robbie catches the lightning flick of James’s eyes in his direction. Even now, the lad’s still supporting him when the memories hit.
The guest list is small enough that the reception dinner is friendly and informal, and Robbie’s able to study Laura enough to confirm once again that she’s very happy. She comes to sit with them for a bit, later on, and her gaze slides from Robbie to James and back again. “Nice ties. Buy one get one free?”
“Absolutely,” James replies with a completely straight face. “I only got the second buttonhole at half-price, though.”
“Carnations are so expensive these days.” Laura smothers a grin. “Hard to keep up standards.”
“Speakin’ of keeping up standards,” Robbie interjects, “I notice you went all non-traditional in there.” He jerks his head towards the function-room where the marriage ceremony took place. “Or did you just forget the obey bit?”
Laura glares and smacks his arm, and he grins. James tilts his chin. “Actually, there’s nothing traditional about the bride promising to obey. The earliest marriage ceremonies didn’t include any reference to obedience - it was all about the woman’s property passing to her husband. Even that bastion of tradition, the Church of England, offered couples a choice in the original Book of Common Prayer. Both spouses could promise to love and cherish rather than-”
“Yeah, thank you very much, Mr Know-it-all.” Robbie jogs James’s elbow. “For the record, Val was always the boss in our house.”
“Quite right, too.” James stands and offers his hand to Laura. “Might I have the honour of this dance?”
“Sorry, already promised to my husband.” Laura gets to her feet as well. “I’ll take you up on it later, though - and you’re not escaping, Robbie, so don’t try.”
“Well, if the loveliest woman in the room won’t dance with me, I’ll have to make do with the most handsome man.” Eyes dancing, James extends a hand to Robbie.
“You’re jok-”
“You can’t possibly renege on a promise, Robbie.” The hand’s still there. “Besides, I think I see Innocent bearing down in your direction...”
Robbie stands and takes James’s hand. “Christ almighty, I’ll never live this down. Just don’t bloody tread on me feet!”
___________________________________________
“I thought that assistant pathologist was going to have an apoplectic fit!” Robbie passes James a mug of coffee and they retreat to the sofa.
“His eyes were bulgingly a bit alarmingly, weren’t they?” James dissolves into laughter.
“You’d think he’d never seen two blokes dancin’ before.”
“If you call that dancing...” James shakes his head, a pitying expression on his face. “I thought you said you and Val took ballroom lessons?”
“Oi, I knew what I was doing. It was when you tried to dip me we had problems.” Robbie affects a long-suffering look. “Next time I’d appreciate a warning.”
“Oh, so there’s going to be a next time?” Oh, the smug bastard; he needs that smile wiped off his face. Robbie jabs his elbow into James’s side, but James retaliates by dropping his head to Robbie’s shoulder. “My Prince Charming.”
“Oh, give over.” But he lets his head rest against James’s. It should feel strange, but it’s nice, being close to someone again, even if it is his frequently-annoying, awkward sod of a best mate.
Much later, James stretches and starts to get up. “I should be on my way.”
“Ah, what for?” Robbie tugs him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Perfectly good bedroom just down the hall, as you well know. ‘Sides, I thought we could go out somewhere tomorrow. Weather’s supposed to be nice. Give us a chance to walk off all that food an’ alcohol.”
James’s lips curve upwards at the corners and he settles back against Robbie’s side, letting his head rest against Robbie’s again. “I’d like that.”
Robbie takes a deep breath; he’s been considering this for long enough and it’s about time. “Listen, why don’t you just move in, man? Plenty of room here, an’ what’s the point of paying rent on a flat you’re not in much more than half the time anyway?”
James jolts upwards, his eyes widening impossibly, and for a moment he seems lost for words. When he speaks, his tone is almost artificially calm. “What about work? Me staying the occasional night is nobody’s business, but if I move in... You are my boss, and you’re currently assessing me for promotion.”
Robbie shrugs. He has been considering this for a couple of months, after all. “Yeah, I know what people will think. But I can be up-front with Innocent - if she knows, we’re covered. Think we’ve proved over the years that we can separate our friendship from our work relationship. You’ve never taken advantage, an’ I’ve never been easier on you than I should. So if two coppers who are good mates an’ like each other’s company decide to share a flat, all above board, why should it be a problem?”
There’ll be gossip if it gets out, yes, but he’s been pretty adept at squashing gossip over the years - like the times when a couple of junior officers started spreading rumours and insinuations about Lewis's queer sergeant. Helped, of course, that that kind of nonsense is against the Force’s equality and anti-harassment policies.
James studies him silently for several moments; then he nods. “If you’re absolutely sure, then I would be delighted. Thank you. All expenses shared equally, of course.”
“Naturally. What d’you think I am? Your sugar daddy?”
___________________________________________
They’re slumped side by side on the sofa late one evening in July when Robbie reaches for the piece of folded paper he hid under a cushion earlier and passes it to James.
James unfolds it, takes one glance, then looks at Robbie with a slow smile. “Car ferry booking to Ireland?”
Robbie grins in return. “Thought it was about time we had a holiday, an’ you said you’d like to go. Couple of days in Dublin, then a week drivin’ around the coast, yeah?”
“I’ll look forward to it.” The words and tone are calm, but the pleasure in James’s eyes is definitely worth every penny of the ferry cost, and the trouble it took to make sure James had no idea what he was up to - one downside of both living and working with the bloke is that there isn’t a lot of time when they’re not together.
“It’s not till the end of August,” Robbie points out. “Thought it’d be a nice way to celebrate your full promotion. The assessment period ends the week before we go.”
“I had noticed.” James raises one eyebrow. “That does rather assume that I will pass.”
Robbie taps the side of his nose. “No comment.” Though James is well aware that the decision is mostly his - and, completely aside from their friendship, if he’d had any doubts about James’s performance at Inspector level he would have told the bloke long ago so that he could do what was necessary to improve. As it is, the lad’s sailing through, no doubt about it. “Anyway, you’ve got a month to do all that stuff you like with maps and checking out B&Bs online.”
James’s lips twitch. “I will have three options for you to choose from by the end of next week.”
“What, not till then? Your standards are slipping, man!”
___________________________________________
“Chief Inspector Lewis tells me you’ve passed the assessment with flying colours. Congratulations, Inspector Hathaway!”
Anyone not familiar with James would think he’s showing virtually no reaction - but Robbie knows that subtle stretch of his lips and the tic in the lad’s jaw. He’s made up, though his voice is completely serious as he responds. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“My own observations concur completely, by the way,” Innocent adds. “Not that I’m casting doubt on Robbie’s judgement, or his objectivity, but given the closeness of your off-duty friendship it’s as well to leave no doubt as to the impartiality of the assessment.”
She’s right, of course. There are officers at the station who wouldn’t hesitate to cast aspersions or, even worse, make a formal accusation. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Robbie glances at James again; he’s back to inscrutable. “I take it the promotion’s with immediate effect?”
“Indeed. I’ve already actioned it with HR and the County, and I’ll be sending out an email to the station immediately.” Innocent pauses, and Robbie knows very well that she’s going to wind them up about something. “I trust you two will be celebrating this evening? I do happen to have a couple of spare tickets for the Lord Lieutenant’s ball...”
Robbie grits his teeth - and then hears a faint snigger from beside him. “Very kind of you, ma’am, but it’s not quite Inspector Hathaway’s thing. He’s more into world music, mediaeval madrigals an’ the like.” He grips James’s arm, practically shoving him towards the door. “If that’s all, ma’am?”
“For now, yes.” Bloody woman’s trying her best not to laugh. Robbie shakes his head and follows James out of the room.
___________________________________________
“You said you would dance with me again.” Across the table in the well-rated but thankfully not too pretentious trattoria, James actually pouts.
“Yeah, well, sometimes I lie.” Robbie keeps a straight face as he tops up James’s glass.
“And sometimes,” James murmurs, his voice low-pitched, “you tease.” Amusement sparks in his eyes and he taps his index finger lightly against Robbie’s hand.
“Sometimes I do.” Robbie leans back in his seat and smirks at his companion. Christ, it really is easy - and fun - to have this kind of conversation with James, teasing the hell out of each other.
“You’re good at it.” James takes a bite of his sea-bass, but his gaze never leaves Robbie’s. “It’s no wonder we were tripping over women who fancied you in all our years of detecting.”
“There were a few who fancied you an’ all.” Robbie cocks his head on one side; he doesn’t want to push, but he’s curious.
“Wasn’t interested.” James raises his wine-glass to his lips, still watching Robbie. “I only ever had eyes for one person.” His smile’s sly, and his expression’s that combination of amused and enigmatic that’s become so familiar to Robbie over the time they’ve known each other.
“Don’t tell me; you’ve had a crush on Innocent all these years.” Robbie shakes his head with a wicked smirk. “Should’ve let you stand in for Mr Innocent at those bloody posh dos.”
“You’re joking. She’s far too scary. Can you imagine?” Wide-eyed, James pulls a face, then concentrates on finishing off his fish. Robbie turns his attention back to his steak, but he can’t help surreptitiously glancing at James to see if the bloke’s watching him again. It’s oddly flattering to be the object of his friend’s intense focus, even if James is just doing it to-
To what? Tease? Flirt? Nah, not flirt. Flirting implies... well, that there’s something there, doesn’t it? And they’re mates, that’s all. Best mates, true, and they are closer than he’s been with any bloke he’s known before. And even Laura thought...
No. He’s never been interested in-
Ah, what’s it matter? Robbie pushes the thought away. They like each other’s company and they’re having fun, and that’s all that matters. Why analyse it to death?
“Dessert? I fancy tiramisu.” Robbie waves the waiter over.
___________________________________________
“You have to try this.” Without thinking, Robbie takes a forkful of his dessert and holds it out to James.
Eyes widening, James leans forward and allows Robbie to feed him the tiramisu. He doesn’t shift his gaze from Robbie as he swallows. “It is good. Here, try this.” In a slow, deliberate gesture, he extends a forkful of chocolate torte to Robbie, and Robbie finds himself opening his mouth to accept it.
The hitch of breath after he swallows has nothing to do with the torte, and he knows it.
“What are we doing?” he asks, trusting - as he always has, all these years - that James will have the answer.
“Whatever it is-” James’s free hand inches across the table until his fingertips are brushing Robbie’s. “-maybe we should consider doing it at home rather than here?”
“Yeah.” Robbie blinks, forcing his gaze away from James, and signals the waiter for the bill. He had planned on coffee and liqueurs as well - today called for a proper celebration - but right now all he wants is to get back to their flat.
James’s fingers slide over Robbie’s. “I’ll phone for a taxi.”
___________________________________________
The journey in the taxi is silent and interminable.
Robbie’s not had this many butterflies in his stomach since his first date with Val, and his only reassurance is that, for all his bravado in the restaurant, James is equally tense, judging by the whiteness of his knuckles.
What’s he going to do when they get home? What will they do? All kinds of images are scrolling through his brain, none of which he can imagine himself doing with James. And yet... and yet he’s itching to touch the bloke. The way he’d felt when James touched his hand in the restaurant, even though only the pads of his fingers were resting on Robbie’s... Christ.
When they’re finally inside the flat, all they seem to be able to do is stare at each other without speaking. Robbie’s heart is beating so fast, so erratically, he’s sure James must be able to hear it. Whether he can or not, James is swallowing and fidgeting - and then he tears his gaze away and starts to move. “I’ll put the kettle on, then, shall I?”
He’s being given an out. They can just have a normal evening on the sofa watching crap telly or having a natter. Neither of them will refer to any of that stuff in the restaurant ever again.
And in that moment, Robbie knows that’s the last thing he wants. He reaches out to James, sliding a hand around the back of the bloke’s head to tug it downwards, and kisses him.
It’s not awkward. It’s not embarrassing or scratchy or weird or any of the things Robbie might have imagined - if he’d imagined kissing James, which he hadn’t, not really. It’s... Robbie grips James’s shoulders and shoves him back against the living-room wall, bringing their bodies into close, intimate contact. James’s hand is in his hair, holding him steady as he changes the angle of the kiss and slides his tongue forward to rasp against the inside of Robbie’s mouth. James tastes of wine, chocolate and garlic, and faintly of nicotine, and although Robbie never thought he’d be okay with kissing a smoker he couldn’t care less right now. Couldn’t want to keep kissing this smoker more.
Why hadn’t he known he wanted this?
They break apart, breathing heavily, and the way James is looking at him... “How long?”
James shrugs. “A while.”
Robbie stills. I only ever had eyes for one person. Christ. All that time? Though it’s as well, really. James was his bagman, and then he was assessing the lad for promotion. Yeah, he’s still James’s superior officer, but this isn’t as inappropriate as it would have been before today.
“Ah, you daft sod.” Robbie reaches up to kiss James again, this time lightly, affectionately. “Were you ever gonna say anything?”
James arches a brow. “Let’s see... I cooked for you, offered you a shoulder to cry on, bought you a tie and a carnation, asked you to dance, practically cuddled with you on the sofa. What did I have to do? Arrange myself naked on your bed?”
“Might’ve worked,” Robbie mutters, feeling himself flush at the mental image of James Hathaway, bare as the day he was born, sprawled across his bed. And, abruptly, he wants that more than he wants to breathe. It takes a moment before he’s able to speak. “Why don’t you try it and we’ll see?”
The sudden heat in James’s eyes sends a shiver through Robbie. “Yes. Yes, please.”
Robbie holds out a hand to his friend... his soon-to-be lover. “Go on, then.”
“With pleasure.” James entangles their fingers.
This is going to be a huge change in their relationship - and yet, as Robbie follows James into the bedroom, it strikes him that it won’t be very much change at all. They’ve been practically married for ages - years, maybe - and he never realised it. James did, though. Smartarse. But his smartarse.
Mind, there’s only one downside. Laura’s gonna bloody say I told you so.
___________________________________________
Author: wendymr
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Laura Hobson, Jean Innocent; Robbie Lewis/Laura Hobson; Robbie Lewis/James Hathaway
Rated: PG
Spoilers: All the way to 7:04, Intelligent Design
Summary: “It’s not quite that simple.” James is resigning, Robbie is retiring - or are they?
With many thanks to lindenharp and uniquepov for patient and helpful BRing and listening to me whinge about this on IM, and to sasha1600 for being kind enough to read chunks pasted in IM and tell me she didn't hate it ;) Written for the Summer Challenge 2013 on lewis_challenge.
Part 1
James doesn’t say anything at work the following morning, but shortly before noon he pushes back his chair. “I’m taking you out for lunch. Pie and chips at the Perch?”
“It’s not pensioners’ special day,” Robbie points out dryly as he follows James out of the office.
James turns, a smirk hovering briefly on his lips. “I think I can stretch to full price. We might have to share a dessert, though.”
An image flashes into Robbie’s mind of James holding a forkful of some fancy gateau out to him, and he flushes and looks away. “Get on with you.”
At the pub, James waits until they’re sitting outside, and he’s lit a cigarette. Then, leaning across the table to Robbie, he asks, “How did things go with Laura?”
Robbie feels his mouth turn down at the corners. “Got the old heave-ho, didn’t I?”
“What?” James’s eyes widen and his jaw slackens. “She dumped you? What on earth for? That just - no, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Does to her. And, if I’m honest, to me as well.” He explains as best he can. It’s surprisingly easy to tell James, as well as a bit cathartic - though he doesn’t mention Laura’s suggestion about him and James. In the cold light of day, he’s concluded that she was imagining things that aren’t there, maybe out of guilt. It’s all nonsense anyway, and he’s not going to give it another thought.
“I am sorry,” James says when he’s got to the end of the tale. “You seemed so happy when the two of you finally got together. To be honest, I was expecting any day that you’d tell me you were getting married.”
Robbie goes still at that. What does it say about his relationship with Laura that the thought of marriage never even crossed his mind? Oh, she was right; they really had just fallen into it because it was comfortable, easy. Which might have been okay, but she did deserve more. Maybe so does he, except he’s really not looking for it.
“Ah, it’s fine,” he assures James. “Really. I’m sorry it’s over, of course, an’ I’ll miss having her around, but doesn’t it tell you something that I’m not devastated?” James nods once, slowly. “Mind, you might have to put up with me a bit more, at least while I get used to bein’ on me own again.”
James frowns at that. “I hope I’ve never given you the impression that spending time with you outside work is a chore. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Well, then.” Robbie picks up his glass and tilts it towards James, who raises his in return. “Dinner an’ crap telly at mine tonight?”
“Sure - no, I can’t. I’ve got band practice tonight. A drink afterwards instead?”
“Actually, can I come and listen? I can’t believe it’s been almost eight years an’ I’ve never heard your band play. Well, except on your ipod thingy, but that’s not the same.”
James’s smile is bashful but clearly pleased. “I’d like that very much.”
___________________________________________
The rehearsal is early, and it’s over by just after half eight. The music’s not really to Robbie’s taste, and he suspects he doesn’t actually understand it, but he can appreciate the quality of the performances - especially James’s. The bloke plays the guitar like a genius, all intensity and concentration mingled with flashes of awe and love on his face as his fingers move like lightning across the strings. Stroking them like a lo- Robbie stifles that thought at birth and makes himself go over to congratulate James, keeping his praise matter-of-fact. James still blushes endearingly and seems so pleased that Robbie mentally kicks himself for not having done this years ago.
As they leave the church together, Robbie suggests, “How about coming back to mine instead of going to the pub? I’ve got some salmon in the fridge that needs using.”
“Sounds good. I can stop at the off-licence on the way, if you like.”
“Nah, got plenty. Just bring yourself - and something to change into, if you’d like to get out of your suit.”
Dinner’s relaxed and casual in front of the telly, but after they’ve shared a bottle of wine it’s agreed that James should stay the night rather than drive. Robbie gets the pillow and blankets that now live in the hall cupboard for James’s use, but pauses as he’s carrying them back into the living room. Laura was right to point out what a good friend James is to him - and here he makes the bloke contort himself onto a sofa that’s too short for him and probably uncomfortable as well, after James has been kind enough to keep him company for the evening.
“Fancy helping me to find a new flat?” He drops the bedding on the couch and quirks an eyebrow in James’s direction.
“Moving again? How many times is that since we’ve met?” James asks, sounding amused.
Robbie ignores the dig. “I want somewhere with two bedrooms. You’re long past the stage when you should be expected to kip on someone’s couch.”
For a moment or two, James seems lost for words. Then he says, “I really don’t mind, Robbie. You don’t need to do this just for my benefit.”
“It’s for my benefit too. I won’t feel guilty about inviting you over if I know I’ve got a decent spare bed available when we’ve had a couple of drinks.”
“Well, thank you,” James says, touching Robbie’s arm briefly. “And my back thanks you as well.” He bends and moves the decorative cushions to the floor. “I’ll take a look at the letting agents’ websites tomorrow, yeah? Let me know what your price-range is and what areas you like, and I can get you a shortlist.”
“I was thinking more in terms of you coming to look at flats with me,” Robbie points out gently. “Not doin’ all the spadework.”
James smiles. “I’d be happy to. At least it’ll give me the chance to check out clearance.” He brushes the top of his head.
“Oh?”
“Did you know I had to duck every time I went upstairs at Laura’s, otherwise I risked getting my head clobbered on the ceiling halfway up the stairs?”
Robbie laughs. “Shouldn’t be so tall, then, should you?”
___________________________________________
For a few weeks, then, walking trips are replaced by viewings of flats, followed by animated discussions over a pint or two about the merits of the latest batch. At first, James defers to Robbie - “You’re the one who’s going to be living there” - but is easily persuaded to give an opinion when Robbie points out that he’s never shied away from airing his point of view in the past, and why stop now?
The eventual choice is the converted ground floor of a Georgian detached house - not in Summertown; Robbie couldn’t bring himself to live in that bastion of posh academic establishment - but on the way to Marston. Convenient for their favourite pub, James comments in its favour; good off-street parking and a back garden where he could plant some vegetables if he wants, and where James can smoke without looking like he’s loitering with intent, Robbie counters.
The move is accomplished over a weekend, with the aid of a Transit van and a couple of James’s band-mates, and by the Sunday evening Robbie is mostly set up, with the essentials unpacked and furniture in its allotted place, including the new bedroom furniture he ordered on the sly and had delivered the previous day. The flat’s got two bathrooms, which will save time when James sleeps there on a work-night, and the living area is mostly open-plan, with a large kitchen and eating area and a wide arch into the sitting-room.
“I haven’t had enough space to sprawl out on the floor in years!” James exclaims, throwing himself down in front of the sofa with his head back against the seat cushions.
“Not since you hit your growth spurt, I’d imagine,” Robbie comments. Without thinking, he reaches out and ruffles James’s hair. He’s about to apologise as he draws his hand back, but just as he opens his mouth to speak James glances around at him, a smile on his lips that Robbie can only describe as happy.
Well, if James likes Robbie feeling comfortable enough to touch him with that sort of affectionate teasing, Robbie’s fine with it.
“Should bring some of your clothes over, now you’ve got space for them,” he says after a bit. “Spare razor, toothbrush, that sort of thing, too.”
“Cafetiere, wok, coffee-grinder, teapot...” James adds with a smirk.
Robbie cuffs the back of his head lightly. “Cheeky sod.” With a grin, he reaches into his pocket for the spare key to the flat, and throws it in an underarm lob onto James’s lap. “Any time you want to come over while I’m not here an’ use any of that stuff to cook me dinner, I won’t complain.”
James picks up the key, gripping it tightly in his hand for a long moment before digging in his pocket for his keyring. “Tofu and bean curry with brown rice all right?”
___________________________________________
“Tell me I was never such a bloody stupid tosser as that,” Robbie exclaims with a disgusted look one rainy evening in late December as they run from his car to the front door.
James laughs as he follows Robbie inside, stamping his feet to shake off the worst of the wet. “You didn’t much like technology when we first worked together. Took me months to train you on how to read texts on your phone - and as for emails, there were times I thought you’d never manage it.”
“Well, if they’d only make phone keyboards for people without perfect eyesight or spindly fingers...” Robbie grumbles. “Still, at least I never refused to read me email. Is it any wonder Logan’s case reports are such a mess?”
“It’s his poor sergeant I feel sorry for,” James says with feeling, moving to put the kettle on. “She does her best, but when her governor gives her scrappy, hand-written notes to work from and won’t even read the criminal profiling reports because he doesn’t trust that mumbo-jumbo, it’s no wonder she’s frustrated. He’s not just a bad detective; he’s wrecking her career.”
“And putting forward cases CPS can’t prosecute,” Robbie adds. “Should have been put out to grass long ago.” He sets out mugs and the tea-caddy. “Gonna talk to Innocent about him tomorrow. And, yes, about Barnes too. She deserves a decent governor.”
“Someone who’ll encourage her and make her feel valued,” James adds, warming the pot. “Someone like you.”
“Thanks, but I’m not available.”
“No, you’re not.” And Robbie could swear that the look James gives him is pure possession. Then James jabs him with his elbow and demands the tea-caddy, and it’s gone - but not forgotten.
___________________________________________
“Glad you came?” Robbie aims a rueful grin in James’s direction.
“Absolutely! I’ve always wanted to get soaked to the skin in a Shropshire forest in February.” James shakes one foot. “I’m not sure my shoes will ever recover.”
“Ah, you’re too soft, lad. Call this rain? It’s nothing but a bit o’ drizzle,” Robbie retorts with a grin. A loud thunder-clap echoes overhead, and he groans, more in relief than at being proved wrong. “All right, best get back to the B&B, then.”
Even jogging, it takes more than half an hour to get back to where Robbie’s car is parked at the edge of Mortimer Forest, and they’re both shivering as they climb inside and Robbie turns the heat on full blast. “Not the best idea I’ve ever had,” he concedes wryly as he wrestles himself out of his anorak.
“What, a weekend in the Welsh Marches at this time of year? What could possibly have been wrong with that?” James replies, tone dry as a desert.
“Well, there is one good thing,” Robbie says as he starts the car.
“What’s that?”
“The B&B’s attached to a pub. We don’t have to go out in the rain to get a pint. Or dinner, if the menu’s any good.”
“Thank goodness for small mercies.” James is looking up the Church Inn in Ludlow on his phone, at first getting directions and then, as Robbie gets onto the right road, checking the menu. “Looks good to me. I should think it’ll even satisfy your preference for red meat and plenty of carbohydrates.”
“Good. No goin’ out again this evening, then.” Robbie smiles in grim satisfaction. “We should’ve done this sooner, y’know. October, before the weather changed. I meant to suggest it, but we were flat-hunting for me, and then Innocent wanted the training plan, an’ then it was Christmas.” Which he’d spent in Manchester; although it’d been great spending time with Lyn, Tim and the bairn, he’d kept wondering what James was doing and kicking himself for not asking the bloke to come with him - and then wondering why on earth he’d think that James would even want to.
“I’d like to do this again, actually,” James says as they turn into the car park. “Not this, precisely, of course - I’d like better weather, if nothing else - but getting away from Oxford for a couple of days. Maybe even further afield, if you’d like - a long weekend in Scotland or Ireland might be nice.”
“Val an’ me talked about going to Ireland,” Robbie comments, turning off the engine. It feels strange that he can talk about her now without the pang of loss that’s been there for so long - but good, because he can remember her the way she should be remembered, without the pain and anguish. “Never got around to it, though. We thought a week, ten days, just driving around the coast an’ staying in a different place every night.” He glances at James. “You fancy that?”
“Very much. If you’re sure you want to spend that much of your holiday allowance with me.”
Robbie shakes his head. “Ah, man, who else would I spend it with?” He reaches for the door-handle. “Come on, let’s make a run for it before the thunder starts again.”
___________________________________________
Fortunately, their room is ready - they opted to share a twin-bedded room rather than go for two singles - and so they take turns to have a hot shower and dress in dry clothes before heading down to the pub.
“Come on, own up - this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” James raises his pint with a grin. “Getting me to spend the afternoon in a pub with you?”
“If it had been, I’d have found a way that didn’t involve both of us risking pneumonia first!” He sneezes. “I still might end up with it. How’s your bedside manner?”
“Probably about as good as your database skills.” Putting down his pint, James leans across the table and lays his hand on Robbie’s. “But for you, I’d make an exception,” he murmurs in what Robbie recognises as his ‘phone sex’ voice. “I’d sit beside you and soothe your fevered brow.”
Christ, he’s feeling warm inside. “Give over, you.” He pulls his hand away, but misses the warmth immediately. “Go on, do something useful and get us the menus.”
After an excellent meal, and a shared dessert, followed by another couple of pints, they take a stroll outside so James can have a final couple of cigarettes. It’s not raining now, and the sky’s clear, with stars visible on the western horizon.
“Thank you - for suggesting this,” James says as they near the pub again. “I’d thought a couple of times about longer trips, but I wasn’t sure you’d consider an overnight stay.”
“You might be sorry in the morning,” Robbie quips. “After all, according to Laura, I snore. Kept her awake half the night.”
In the street-light, he sees James’s faint grin. “When you’ve slept in dormitories at a boys’ boarding school, nothing keeps you awake. I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Soon find out, won’t we?” He loops an arm around James’s shoulders. “Bed, James. An’ no waking me before the sun’s up, even if you are gasping for a smoke.”
“I will be the perfect sleeping partner, I promise,” James says, deadpan, and jogs inside and up the stairs.
___________________________________________
“Robbie, any chance you could meet me for a coffee?”
“What, now?” Laura’s phoned him at the office. They’ve stayed in touch, and as time’s gone by have met for drinks or coffee occasionally. He hasn’t met Franco, who is still very much in the picture, though Laura’s hinted at dinner a couple of times. His reluctance has been more out of consideration for Franco than his own feelings; he’s not sure how he’d feel about having a meal with an ex-partner of someone he was in love with.
“If you’re free.”
He glances at James. “Mind if I disappear for half an hour or so?” James, busy at his computer, makes a go on gesture. “Be there shortly,” he tells Laura.
They’re comfortable these days again, him and Laura; he kisses her cheek when he arrives, and they banter about incompetent forensics and SOCO staff and coppers and doctors who have no manners and expect miracles in no time at all. It’s nearly twenty minutes before she gets to the reason she asked him to meet her.
“I have some news, Robbie. I wanted to tell you myself, not have you hear...”
Her smile’s a bit awkward, and he nods reassuringly. “Go on, love.”
“Franco and I are getting married. Just a small ceremony, close friends and family. It’s next month at the Old Parsonage on the Banbury Road. We-”
She’s almost babbling in her agitation. Robbie reaches across and covers her wrist with his hand. “I’m very happy for you, love. I mean it - I’m glad you’ve found the right person for you. I wish you every happiness.”
Her smile lights up her face. “I’m glad. I’ve felt guilty - I treated you badly-”
“You didn’t,” he insists. “Told you at the time, you were right. Now, I hope I’m one of those close friends who’s getting an invitation to your wedding?”
“Of course you are. Actually,” she adds with an impish grin that’s more like the Laura he knows, “I wanted to ask you about that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. Should I invite James separately, or will you be bringing him as your plus-one?”
Robbie almost chokes on his coffee.
It only takes a few moments, though, to acknowledge that it’s not that ridiculous an idea. “Suppose it makes sense. I’d be going on me own otherwise, and if you’d be inviting James as well we’d end up going together anyway.”
He’s half-expecting an I told you so, and is relieved when she just smiles at him over the rim of her coffee-cup.
___________________________________________
Back at the office, James gives him an enquiring look as soon as he comes in. He can’t resist a smirk as he says, “Get your best party frock ironed. You’ve pulled.” (They’ve been watching Ashes to Ashes together lately. Robbie doesn’t quite fancy himself as Gene Hunt, bad policing methods aside, but couldn’t resist just now).
James blinks, apparently speechless. Robbie perches on the edge of his desk and explains. “Laura’s getting married. Told her I’d bring you as me date so she wouldn’t need to send you a separate invitation.”
James’s stunned look turns into a cheeky grin. “I’ll expect at least a couple of dances with you, then. On one condition: absolutely no Barry Manilow!”
Robbie snorts. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. “Long as you remember I lead.”
___________________________________________
The wedding’s on a beautiful, sunny day in early May, and James is playing the part of Robbie’s date with far too much enjoyment for Robbie’s peace of mind. He stayed at Robbie’s the night before, at Robbie’s suggestion, so that they could set off together with the minimum of fuss. While James hasn’t, obviously, gone so far as to wear a dress for the occasion, he’s just produced matching ties and buttonholes.
It feels ridiculous, but Robbie knows Laura will be amused, so he goes along with it - and with James sliding his hand through Robbie’s elbow as they walk into the hotel. Daft bugger.
The ceremony’s taking place in a small function room, with dinner afterwards in a private dining room. As they follow the signs for the Hobson-Lopez wedding, the first person Robbie recognises is Innocent. He also sees the exact moment she spots James’s hand on his arm. Bollocks. His first instinct is to pull away, but in that same moment he notices James’s face. The bloke knows that he’ll detach himself hurriedly and make some kind of embarrassed excuse to Innocent, and James is resigned to it.
Well, bollocks to that. James is his best mate, and if he can’t have a laugh with his best mate off-duty... So he draws himself to his full height, puts on his most polite smile, and advances towards his boss. “Very nice dress, if I can say so, ma’am.”
If it was anyone other than Innocent, he’d say she was close to blushing. “Well, thank you, Robbie. And I must say, you and James look very dapper.” She drops her gaze to their joined arms. “Is there something you two haven’t told me?”
“I couldn’t get a date for today,” James says, his tone full of exaggerated disappointment. “Chief Inspector Lewis very kindly took pity on me.”
Innocent gives them a look of exasperated disbelief, but fails to hide the smile that immediately follows.
The wedding’s short but moving, and Laura looks gorgeous. Franco can’t keep his eyes off her, and Robbie’s glad once again that Laura had the courage and initiative to end things between them. Looks like this bloke’s the right one for her - just like he was the right one for his Val. There’s a lump in his throat as Laura and Franco turn to the assembled guests, hand in hand as husband and wife.
A hand slides over his and presses gently before being removed. He glances sideways at James, who appears to have his entire focus on Laura and Franco; but Robbie catches the lightning flick of James’s eyes in his direction. Even now, the lad’s still supporting him when the memories hit.
The guest list is small enough that the reception dinner is friendly and informal, and Robbie’s able to study Laura enough to confirm once again that she’s very happy. She comes to sit with them for a bit, later on, and her gaze slides from Robbie to James and back again. “Nice ties. Buy one get one free?”
“Absolutely,” James replies with a completely straight face. “I only got the second buttonhole at half-price, though.”
“Carnations are so expensive these days.” Laura smothers a grin. “Hard to keep up standards.”
“Speakin’ of keeping up standards,” Robbie interjects, “I notice you went all non-traditional in there.” He jerks his head towards the function-room where the marriage ceremony took place. “Or did you just forget the obey bit?”
Laura glares and smacks his arm, and he grins. James tilts his chin. “Actually, there’s nothing traditional about the bride promising to obey. The earliest marriage ceremonies didn’t include any reference to obedience - it was all about the woman’s property passing to her husband. Even that bastion of tradition, the Church of England, offered couples a choice in the original Book of Common Prayer. Both spouses could promise to love and cherish rather than-”
“Yeah, thank you very much, Mr Know-it-all.” Robbie jogs James’s elbow. “For the record, Val was always the boss in our house.”
“Quite right, too.” James stands and offers his hand to Laura. “Might I have the honour of this dance?”
“Sorry, already promised to my husband.” Laura gets to her feet as well. “I’ll take you up on it later, though - and you’re not escaping, Robbie, so don’t try.”
“Well, if the loveliest woman in the room won’t dance with me, I’ll have to make do with the most handsome man.” Eyes dancing, James extends a hand to Robbie.
“You’re jok-”
“You can’t possibly renege on a promise, Robbie.” The hand’s still there. “Besides, I think I see Innocent bearing down in your direction...”
Robbie stands and takes James’s hand. “Christ almighty, I’ll never live this down. Just don’t bloody tread on me feet!”
___________________________________________
“I thought that assistant pathologist was going to have an apoplectic fit!” Robbie passes James a mug of coffee and they retreat to the sofa.
“His eyes were bulgingly a bit alarmingly, weren’t they?” James dissolves into laughter.
“You’d think he’d never seen two blokes dancin’ before.”
“If you call that dancing...” James shakes his head, a pitying expression on his face. “I thought you said you and Val took ballroom lessons?”
“Oi, I knew what I was doing. It was when you tried to dip me we had problems.” Robbie affects a long-suffering look. “Next time I’d appreciate a warning.”
“Oh, so there’s going to be a next time?” Oh, the smug bastard; he needs that smile wiped off his face. Robbie jabs his elbow into James’s side, but James retaliates by dropping his head to Robbie’s shoulder. “My Prince Charming.”
“Oh, give over.” But he lets his head rest against James’s. It should feel strange, but it’s nice, being close to someone again, even if it is his frequently-annoying, awkward sod of a best mate.
Much later, James stretches and starts to get up. “I should be on my way.”
“Ah, what for?” Robbie tugs him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Perfectly good bedroom just down the hall, as you well know. ‘Sides, I thought we could go out somewhere tomorrow. Weather’s supposed to be nice. Give us a chance to walk off all that food an’ alcohol.”
James’s lips curve upwards at the corners and he settles back against Robbie’s side, letting his head rest against Robbie’s again. “I’d like that.”
Robbie takes a deep breath; he’s been considering this for long enough and it’s about time. “Listen, why don’t you just move in, man? Plenty of room here, an’ what’s the point of paying rent on a flat you’re not in much more than half the time anyway?”
James jolts upwards, his eyes widening impossibly, and for a moment he seems lost for words. When he speaks, his tone is almost artificially calm. “What about work? Me staying the occasional night is nobody’s business, but if I move in... You are my boss, and you’re currently assessing me for promotion.”
Robbie shrugs. He has been considering this for a couple of months, after all. “Yeah, I know what people will think. But I can be up-front with Innocent - if she knows, we’re covered. Think we’ve proved over the years that we can separate our friendship from our work relationship. You’ve never taken advantage, an’ I’ve never been easier on you than I should. So if two coppers who are good mates an’ like each other’s company decide to share a flat, all above board, why should it be a problem?”
There’ll be gossip if it gets out, yes, but he’s been pretty adept at squashing gossip over the years - like the times when a couple of junior officers started spreading rumours and insinuations about Lewis's queer sergeant. Helped, of course, that that kind of nonsense is against the Force’s equality and anti-harassment policies.
James studies him silently for several moments; then he nods. “If you’re absolutely sure, then I would be delighted. Thank you. All expenses shared equally, of course.”
“Naturally. What d’you think I am? Your sugar daddy?”
___________________________________________
They’re slumped side by side on the sofa late one evening in July when Robbie reaches for the piece of folded paper he hid under a cushion earlier and passes it to James.
James unfolds it, takes one glance, then looks at Robbie with a slow smile. “Car ferry booking to Ireland?”
Robbie grins in return. “Thought it was about time we had a holiday, an’ you said you’d like to go. Couple of days in Dublin, then a week drivin’ around the coast, yeah?”
“I’ll look forward to it.” The words and tone are calm, but the pleasure in James’s eyes is definitely worth every penny of the ferry cost, and the trouble it took to make sure James had no idea what he was up to - one downside of both living and working with the bloke is that there isn’t a lot of time when they’re not together.
“It’s not till the end of August,” Robbie points out. “Thought it’d be a nice way to celebrate your full promotion. The assessment period ends the week before we go.”
“I had noticed.” James raises one eyebrow. “That does rather assume that I will pass.”
Robbie taps the side of his nose. “No comment.” Though James is well aware that the decision is mostly his - and, completely aside from their friendship, if he’d had any doubts about James’s performance at Inspector level he would have told the bloke long ago so that he could do what was necessary to improve. As it is, the lad’s sailing through, no doubt about it. “Anyway, you’ve got a month to do all that stuff you like with maps and checking out B&Bs online.”
James’s lips twitch. “I will have three options for you to choose from by the end of next week.”
“What, not till then? Your standards are slipping, man!”
___________________________________________
“Chief Inspector Lewis tells me you’ve passed the assessment with flying colours. Congratulations, Inspector Hathaway!”
Anyone not familiar with James would think he’s showing virtually no reaction - but Robbie knows that subtle stretch of his lips and the tic in the lad’s jaw. He’s made up, though his voice is completely serious as he responds. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“My own observations concur completely, by the way,” Innocent adds. “Not that I’m casting doubt on Robbie’s judgement, or his objectivity, but given the closeness of your off-duty friendship it’s as well to leave no doubt as to the impartiality of the assessment.”
She’s right, of course. There are officers at the station who wouldn’t hesitate to cast aspersions or, even worse, make a formal accusation. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Robbie glances at James again; he’s back to inscrutable. “I take it the promotion’s with immediate effect?”
“Indeed. I’ve already actioned it with HR and the County, and I’ll be sending out an email to the station immediately.” Innocent pauses, and Robbie knows very well that she’s going to wind them up about something. “I trust you two will be celebrating this evening? I do happen to have a couple of spare tickets for the Lord Lieutenant’s ball...”
Robbie grits his teeth - and then hears a faint snigger from beside him. “Very kind of you, ma’am, but it’s not quite Inspector Hathaway’s thing. He’s more into world music, mediaeval madrigals an’ the like.” He grips James’s arm, practically shoving him towards the door. “If that’s all, ma’am?”
“For now, yes.” Bloody woman’s trying her best not to laugh. Robbie shakes his head and follows James out of the room.
___________________________________________
“You said you would dance with me again.” Across the table in the well-rated but thankfully not too pretentious trattoria, James actually pouts.
“Yeah, well, sometimes I lie.” Robbie keeps a straight face as he tops up James’s glass.
“And sometimes,” James murmurs, his voice low-pitched, “you tease.” Amusement sparks in his eyes and he taps his index finger lightly against Robbie’s hand.
“Sometimes I do.” Robbie leans back in his seat and smirks at his companion. Christ, it really is easy - and fun - to have this kind of conversation with James, teasing the hell out of each other.
“You’re good at it.” James takes a bite of his sea-bass, but his gaze never leaves Robbie’s. “It’s no wonder we were tripping over women who fancied you in all our years of detecting.”
“There were a few who fancied you an’ all.” Robbie cocks his head on one side; he doesn’t want to push, but he’s curious.
“Wasn’t interested.” James raises his wine-glass to his lips, still watching Robbie. “I only ever had eyes for one person.” His smile’s sly, and his expression’s that combination of amused and enigmatic that’s become so familiar to Robbie over the time they’ve known each other.
“Don’t tell me; you’ve had a crush on Innocent all these years.” Robbie shakes his head with a wicked smirk. “Should’ve let you stand in for Mr Innocent at those bloody posh dos.”
“You’re joking. She’s far too scary. Can you imagine?” Wide-eyed, James pulls a face, then concentrates on finishing off his fish. Robbie turns his attention back to his steak, but he can’t help surreptitiously glancing at James to see if the bloke’s watching him again. It’s oddly flattering to be the object of his friend’s intense focus, even if James is just doing it to-
To what? Tease? Flirt? Nah, not flirt. Flirting implies... well, that there’s something there, doesn’t it? And they’re mates, that’s all. Best mates, true, and they are closer than he’s been with any bloke he’s known before. And even Laura thought...
No. He’s never been interested in-
Ah, what’s it matter? Robbie pushes the thought away. They like each other’s company and they’re having fun, and that’s all that matters. Why analyse it to death?
“Dessert? I fancy tiramisu.” Robbie waves the waiter over.
___________________________________________
“You have to try this.” Without thinking, Robbie takes a forkful of his dessert and holds it out to James.
Eyes widening, James leans forward and allows Robbie to feed him the tiramisu. He doesn’t shift his gaze from Robbie as he swallows. “It is good. Here, try this.” In a slow, deliberate gesture, he extends a forkful of chocolate torte to Robbie, and Robbie finds himself opening his mouth to accept it.
The hitch of breath after he swallows has nothing to do with the torte, and he knows it.
“What are we doing?” he asks, trusting - as he always has, all these years - that James will have the answer.
“Whatever it is-” James’s free hand inches across the table until his fingertips are brushing Robbie’s. “-maybe we should consider doing it at home rather than here?”
“Yeah.” Robbie blinks, forcing his gaze away from James, and signals the waiter for the bill. He had planned on coffee and liqueurs as well - today called for a proper celebration - but right now all he wants is to get back to their flat.
James’s fingers slide over Robbie’s. “I’ll phone for a taxi.”
___________________________________________
The journey in the taxi is silent and interminable.
Robbie’s not had this many butterflies in his stomach since his first date with Val, and his only reassurance is that, for all his bravado in the restaurant, James is equally tense, judging by the whiteness of his knuckles.
What’s he going to do when they get home? What will they do? All kinds of images are scrolling through his brain, none of which he can imagine himself doing with James. And yet... and yet he’s itching to touch the bloke. The way he’d felt when James touched his hand in the restaurant, even though only the pads of his fingers were resting on Robbie’s... Christ.
When they’re finally inside the flat, all they seem to be able to do is stare at each other without speaking. Robbie’s heart is beating so fast, so erratically, he’s sure James must be able to hear it. Whether he can or not, James is swallowing and fidgeting - and then he tears his gaze away and starts to move. “I’ll put the kettle on, then, shall I?”
He’s being given an out. They can just have a normal evening on the sofa watching crap telly or having a natter. Neither of them will refer to any of that stuff in the restaurant ever again.
And in that moment, Robbie knows that’s the last thing he wants. He reaches out to James, sliding a hand around the back of the bloke’s head to tug it downwards, and kisses him.
It’s not awkward. It’s not embarrassing or scratchy or weird or any of the things Robbie might have imagined - if he’d imagined kissing James, which he hadn’t, not really. It’s... Robbie grips James’s shoulders and shoves him back against the living-room wall, bringing their bodies into close, intimate contact. James’s hand is in his hair, holding him steady as he changes the angle of the kiss and slides his tongue forward to rasp against the inside of Robbie’s mouth. James tastes of wine, chocolate and garlic, and faintly of nicotine, and although Robbie never thought he’d be okay with kissing a smoker he couldn’t care less right now. Couldn’t want to keep kissing this smoker more.
Why hadn’t he known he wanted this?
They break apart, breathing heavily, and the way James is looking at him... “How long?”
James shrugs. “A while.”
Robbie stills. I only ever had eyes for one person. Christ. All that time? Though it’s as well, really. James was his bagman, and then he was assessing the lad for promotion. Yeah, he’s still James’s superior officer, but this isn’t as inappropriate as it would have been before today.
“Ah, you daft sod.” Robbie reaches up to kiss James again, this time lightly, affectionately. “Were you ever gonna say anything?”
James arches a brow. “Let’s see... I cooked for you, offered you a shoulder to cry on, bought you a tie and a carnation, asked you to dance, practically cuddled with you on the sofa. What did I have to do? Arrange myself naked on your bed?”
“Might’ve worked,” Robbie mutters, feeling himself flush at the mental image of James Hathaway, bare as the day he was born, sprawled across his bed. And, abruptly, he wants that more than he wants to breathe. It takes a moment before he’s able to speak. “Why don’t you try it and we’ll see?”
The sudden heat in James’s eyes sends a shiver through Robbie. “Yes. Yes, please.”
Robbie holds out a hand to his friend... his soon-to-be lover. “Go on, then.”
“With pleasure.” James entangles their fingers.
This is going to be a huge change in their relationship - and yet, as Robbie follows James into the bedroom, it strikes him that it won’t be very much change at all. They’ve been practically married for ages - years, maybe - and he never realised it. James did, though. Smartarse. But his smartarse.
Mind, there’s only one downside. Laura’s gonna bloody say I told you so.
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