Lewis fic: If At First You Don't Succeed...
Story: If At First You Don't Succeed...
Author: wendymr
Characters: James Hathaway, Robbie Lewis
Rated: G
Summary: Bet you never realised how difficult it is to buy a Valentine's Day present.
Written for the Valentine's Weekend Love Spectacular on lewis_challenge, and just squeaking in under the wire!
If At First You Don’t Succeed...
James hurries up the stairs and along the corridor to the office he shares with Lewis, taking care not to jostle the two cardboard cups he’s carrying. He’s late, and he hates being late. But the bloody coffee-shop was packed. They’re doing a Valentine’s special - heart-shaped strawberry brioches with pink icing on top; utterly clichéd and not something James would ever dream of buying, but apparently half of Oxford decided that they were the only possible breakfast item to purchase this morning.
It had taken him forty-five minutes just to get these two coffees. But it’s worth it; Lewis will appreciate his favourite cappuccino, but he’ll never realise the significance of James buying it for him today. And that’s just how James wants it.
He pushes the office door open with his hip. “Good morning, s-”
Lewis is already coming out from behind his desk, and he’s looking impatient. “At last. Put those down and get a move on. We have a callout.”
“Sir-” James holds out the cappuccino to Lewis, but his boss brushes past him. The cup falls to the floor with a splash.
Lewis gives him an impatient glower. “Get one of the DCs to have that cleaned up, and come on. Hobson’s already there and you know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
With one more regretful glance at his aborted attempt at a token Valentine gesture, James follows his boss out of the office.
They get back to the office shortly before lunch and immediately have to report to Innocent. As they come out of the Chief Super’s office afterwards, James touches Lewis’s arm to get his attention. “I can go for sandwiches, if you like?”
He has a plan, all worked out as they drove back to the nick. Lewis is very fond of the toasted chicken and bacon ciabatta from the new café near St Aldate's, and James has memorised his favourite additions and dressing. As long as the café’s not busy, it won’t take much more than twenty minutes to get there and back. Much better than cheese and pickle from the canteen, and again it’s subtle enough that Lewis will never realise his real intent.
“Yeah, you go on.” Lewis is still processing the evidence in his head and his tone is abstracted.
James sprints all the way there, and he’s lucky: the café is almost empty. Not much more than five minutes later, he has Lewis’s sandwich, and a chicken tikka panini for himself.
Back at the nick, he jogs up the stairs and hurries to the office - only to find it empty. His first assumption is that Lewis has gone to the loo and will be back in a minute but, as he sits down at his desk after placing the ciabatta on his governor’s desk, he notices a Post-It stuck to his monitor.
Gone to budget meeting. Back around 2.
Budget meeting - scheduled every two months, and about which Lewis knew well in advance. And at which lunch is provided.
James leans forward and thumps his head against his desk three times in rapid succession, then starts thinking again. There has to be something else he can do. Third time lucky?
Things start to look up in the late afternoon when Lewis sends him out to pick up some papers belonging to the victim. It’s not a job for a DS, ordinarily, but the papers are in the possession of a colleague of the victim they haven’t yet interviewed. The woman is coming in tomorrow morning, but Lewis wants James to drop a couple of casual questions into the conversation now and observe her reaction.
(James’s gut reaction, after speaking to the colleague, is that she didn’t do it, though of course they’ll still interview her in the morning.)
On his way back through Summertown, he stops at Gatineau on the Banbury Road. It’s the most expensive patisserie in Oxford, and definitely a special-occasion-only purchase, but he can justify it to Lewis on the basis that he was passing anyway and was seized with a sudden craving for their macaroons. Lewis is more of a chocolate éclair man.
The pastries boxed up individually, James makes his way back to the station. He pauses to look through the window into their shared office on his way through the squad-room. This time, Lewis is at his desk, jacket off and shirt-sleeves rolled up, seemingly engrossed in something on his computer screen. He’s clearly not going anywhere in the next few minutes. Excellent.
James pauses at his own desk only long enough to deposit his box, then proceeds to Lewis’s side, papers in one hand and the boxed éclair in the other. And that’s when he notices the Mars bar wrapper on his governor’s desk.
Shit.
Still, this is his third attempt, and he’s got no intention of giving up now. “The papers, sir. And my gut tells me Miranda Kenny’s not a suspect.” He sets the box carefully on Lewis’s desk, then turns back to his own.
“Good to know, though we’ll still question her in the morning.” Lewis taps the box. “What’s this?”
James shrugs and delivers his prepared excuse. Lewis’s face falls. “Nice thought, man, but I just had a Mars bar. Couldn’t manage it.” He brings the box over to James’s desk. “You have it. Your macaroons will keep, yeah?”
Finally, it’s time to go home, and James doesn’t even glance back once he’s said goodnight to Lewis. It was a stupid idea, anyway. What was he thinking of, buying his governor a Valentine’s Day present? What if Lewis had realised what he’d intended? What if he’d worked out why, and James ended up transferred to another inspector?
At home, James gets himself a beer and throws himself onto the sofa with the intention of trying to forget what an idiot he’s made of himself. He’s almost finished the first bottle when there’s a sharp knock at his door. He almost doesn’t answer - who’d be at his door that he’d want to see? - but good manners get the better of him.
“Sir!” It’s Lewis, changed out of his suit and carrying a white takeaway bag and a carrier bag from Victoria Wine.
“Took a chance that you might not be doing anything,” Lewis says as he comes inside.
“I know you’re familiar with the hectic state of my social life, sir,” James comments dryly as he takes the food from Lewis.
“No worse than mine.” Lewis manoeuvres past James so he can get glasses for what is apparently a decent bottle of red.
The food, James realises, isn’t their typical Indian or Chinese; it’s beautifully-prepared and packaged Thai from a restaurant that James remembers mentioning in passing a few weeks ago as one he’s particularly fond of, but doesn’t visit often because it’s expensive. This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment gesture. He turns sharply to look at Lewis. “Sir?”
Lewis shrugs. “Ordered it online soon as you’d gone. It’s not exactly expensive cappuccino or chocolate éclairs, or me favourite sandwich. Thought it might do, all the same.”
James feels heat rushing up his neck and spreading across his face. Lewis knows. Oh, Christ.
He occupies himself with serving the food onto plates, his eyes averted from his governor. So when Lewis’s lips brush his cheek, he’s completely taken by surprise - and lost for words. He can only stare at his boss, his mouth no doubt resembling a fish’s.
Lewis smirks, mirth in his eyes, as well as a warmth that suggests further kisses may be forthcoming later on. “Happy Valentine’s Day, James.”
Author: wendymr
Characters: James Hathaway, Robbie Lewis
Rated: G
Summary: Bet you never realised how difficult it is to buy a Valentine's Day present.
Written for the Valentine's Weekend Love Spectacular on lewis_challenge, and just squeaking in under the wire!
If At First You Don’t Succeed...
James hurries up the stairs and along the corridor to the office he shares with Lewis, taking care not to jostle the two cardboard cups he’s carrying. He’s late, and he hates being late. But the bloody coffee-shop was packed. They’re doing a Valentine’s special - heart-shaped strawberry brioches with pink icing on top; utterly clichéd and not something James would ever dream of buying, but apparently half of Oxford decided that they were the only possible breakfast item to purchase this morning.
It had taken him forty-five minutes just to get these two coffees. But it’s worth it; Lewis will appreciate his favourite cappuccino, but he’ll never realise the significance of James buying it for him today. And that’s just how James wants it.
He pushes the office door open with his hip. “Good morning, s-”
Lewis is already coming out from behind his desk, and he’s looking impatient. “At last. Put those down and get a move on. We have a callout.”
“Sir-” James holds out the cappuccino to Lewis, but his boss brushes past him. The cup falls to the floor with a splash.
Lewis gives him an impatient glower. “Get one of the DCs to have that cleaned up, and come on. Hobson’s already there and you know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
With one more regretful glance at his aborted attempt at a token Valentine gesture, James follows his boss out of the office.
They get back to the office shortly before lunch and immediately have to report to Innocent. As they come out of the Chief Super’s office afterwards, James touches Lewis’s arm to get his attention. “I can go for sandwiches, if you like?”
He has a plan, all worked out as they drove back to the nick. Lewis is very fond of the toasted chicken and bacon ciabatta from the new café near St Aldate's, and James has memorised his favourite additions and dressing. As long as the café’s not busy, it won’t take much more than twenty minutes to get there and back. Much better than cheese and pickle from the canteen, and again it’s subtle enough that Lewis will never realise his real intent.
“Yeah, you go on.” Lewis is still processing the evidence in his head and his tone is abstracted.
James sprints all the way there, and he’s lucky: the café is almost empty. Not much more than five minutes later, he has Lewis’s sandwich, and a chicken tikka panini for himself.
Back at the nick, he jogs up the stairs and hurries to the office - only to find it empty. His first assumption is that Lewis has gone to the loo and will be back in a minute but, as he sits down at his desk after placing the ciabatta on his governor’s desk, he notices a Post-It stuck to his monitor.
Gone to budget meeting. Back around 2.
Budget meeting - scheduled every two months, and about which Lewis knew well in advance. And at which lunch is provided.
James leans forward and thumps his head against his desk three times in rapid succession, then starts thinking again. There has to be something else he can do. Third time lucky?
Things start to look up in the late afternoon when Lewis sends him out to pick up some papers belonging to the victim. It’s not a job for a DS, ordinarily, but the papers are in the possession of a colleague of the victim they haven’t yet interviewed. The woman is coming in tomorrow morning, but Lewis wants James to drop a couple of casual questions into the conversation now and observe her reaction.
(James’s gut reaction, after speaking to the colleague, is that she didn’t do it, though of course they’ll still interview her in the morning.)
On his way back through Summertown, he stops at Gatineau on the Banbury Road. It’s the most expensive patisserie in Oxford, and definitely a special-occasion-only purchase, but he can justify it to Lewis on the basis that he was passing anyway and was seized with a sudden craving for their macaroons. Lewis is more of a chocolate éclair man.
The pastries boxed up individually, James makes his way back to the station. He pauses to look through the window into their shared office on his way through the squad-room. This time, Lewis is at his desk, jacket off and shirt-sleeves rolled up, seemingly engrossed in something on his computer screen. He’s clearly not going anywhere in the next few minutes. Excellent.
James pauses at his own desk only long enough to deposit his box, then proceeds to Lewis’s side, papers in one hand and the boxed éclair in the other. And that’s when he notices the Mars bar wrapper on his governor’s desk.
Shit.
Still, this is his third attempt, and he’s got no intention of giving up now. “The papers, sir. And my gut tells me Miranda Kenny’s not a suspect.” He sets the box carefully on Lewis’s desk, then turns back to his own.
“Good to know, though we’ll still question her in the morning.” Lewis taps the box. “What’s this?”
James shrugs and delivers his prepared excuse. Lewis’s face falls. “Nice thought, man, but I just had a Mars bar. Couldn’t manage it.” He brings the box over to James’s desk. “You have it. Your macaroons will keep, yeah?”
Finally, it’s time to go home, and James doesn’t even glance back once he’s said goodnight to Lewis. It was a stupid idea, anyway. What was he thinking of, buying his governor a Valentine’s Day present? What if Lewis had realised what he’d intended? What if he’d worked out why, and James ended up transferred to another inspector?
At home, James gets himself a beer and throws himself onto the sofa with the intention of trying to forget what an idiot he’s made of himself. He’s almost finished the first bottle when there’s a sharp knock at his door. He almost doesn’t answer - who’d be at his door that he’d want to see? - but good manners get the better of him.
“Sir!” It’s Lewis, changed out of his suit and carrying a white takeaway bag and a carrier bag from Victoria Wine.
“Took a chance that you might not be doing anything,” Lewis says as he comes inside.
“I know you’re familiar with the hectic state of my social life, sir,” James comments dryly as he takes the food from Lewis.
“No worse than mine.” Lewis manoeuvres past James so he can get glasses for what is apparently a decent bottle of red.
The food, James realises, isn’t their typical Indian or Chinese; it’s beautifully-prepared and packaged Thai from a restaurant that James remembers mentioning in passing a few weeks ago as one he’s particularly fond of, but doesn’t visit often because it’s expensive. This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment gesture. He turns sharply to look at Lewis. “Sir?”
Lewis shrugs. “Ordered it online soon as you’d gone. It’s not exactly expensive cappuccino or chocolate éclairs, or me favourite sandwich. Thought it might do, all the same.”
James feels heat rushing up his neck and spreading across his face. Lewis knows. Oh, Christ.
He occupies himself with serving the food onto plates, his eyes averted from his governor. So when Lewis’s lips brush his cheek, he’s completely taken by surprise - and lost for words. He can only stare at his boss, his mouth no doubt resembling a fish’s.
Lewis smirks, mirth in his eyes, as well as a warmth that suggests further kisses may be forthcoming later on. “Happy Valentine’s Day, James.”