Lewis ficlet project, part 2
A Halloween-themed episode, how appropriate! I didn't think I had a tag for this one, and then, at some absurd hour, I did. It's in omni, because I say so; also, no one has consumed above the legal driving limit, except possibly Hobson, who totally deserves it after the week she's had.
4.04 - "Falling Darkness"
The three of them stayed at the Trout through dinner and until last orders, talking idly about work gossip and the latest Sunday-night period drama; then Laura called herself a taxi, refusing their offers of a ride home.
“I’ll have to fend for myself eventually,” she said. “I’m a big girl; I know how to ask for help if I need it.” She kissed them both on the cheek and left, with something near her usual confident stride.
Lewis and Hathaway fell silent after she’d gone, nursing the remains of their last pints. “I like Dr. Hobson,” Hathaway said abruptly. “I’m sorry I thought-”
“Yeah,” Lewis said, “me, too.”
“And if the two of you ever,” he added, staring down into the depths of his glass, “I mean, that would be...”
“It isn’t like that,” Lewis interrupted. “We’re friends, old friends. And hold on a minute, are you giving us your blessing?”
“No. I’m not.” James looked up: his face was carefully blank, but his eyes were bright and focused. “I was going to say, if you did, I’d try and be happy for you, because I do think that you need someone. But I don't think it should be Dr. Hobson.”
Lewis snorted, to cover his confusion. “Laura can do better.”
“She could,” Hathaway agreed, turning the empty glass in his hands. “She was the one who first saw it, actually. After the Monkford case. She told me, you’re in love with him, aren’t you, and I couldn’t think of any way to deny it, so I knew it had to be true.”
He looked up to find Lewis watching him with that familiar look of puzzled fondness. “That was over a year ago.”
“Oh. Right.” The lights came on abruptly; beside them, the barman was turning chairs upside-down. “The pub’s closing, sir,” Hathaway said, a little desperately. “We came in separate cars.” Then Lewis touched his arm, just above the wrist where he'd rolled his sleeves up, and all the breath went out of him.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t drive them both over to mine,” Lewis said evenly. “To talk. If that’s what you want.”
“I, yes.” And then, rallying a little, “I mean, that isn’t exclusively...”
The fondness shaded from puzzled to exasperated, and that was familiar, too. “Get your coat. And, no, don’t say it.”
“If you promise not to use the phrase setting your cap at, sir,” Hathaway said, giddy, and followed him out into the night.
4.04 - "Falling Darkness"
The three of them stayed at the Trout through dinner and until last orders, talking idly about work gossip and the latest Sunday-night period drama; then Laura called herself a taxi, refusing their offers of a ride home.
“I’ll have to fend for myself eventually,” she said. “I’m a big girl; I know how to ask for help if I need it.” She kissed them both on the cheek and left, with something near her usual confident stride.
Lewis and Hathaway fell silent after she’d gone, nursing the remains of their last pints. “I like Dr. Hobson,” Hathaway said abruptly. “I’m sorry I thought-”
“Yeah,” Lewis said, “me, too.”
“And if the two of you ever,” he added, staring down into the depths of his glass, “I mean, that would be...”
“It isn’t like that,” Lewis interrupted. “We’re friends, old friends. And hold on a minute, are you giving us your blessing?”
“No. I’m not.” James looked up: his face was carefully blank, but his eyes were bright and focused. “I was going to say, if you did, I’d try and be happy for you, because I do think that you need someone. But I don't think it should be Dr. Hobson.”
Lewis snorted, to cover his confusion. “Laura can do better.”
“She could,” Hathaway agreed, turning the empty glass in his hands. “She was the one who first saw it, actually. After the Monkford case. She told me, you’re in love with him, aren’t you, and I couldn’t think of any way to deny it, so I knew it had to be true.”
He looked up to find Lewis watching him with that familiar look of puzzled fondness. “That was over a year ago.”
“Oh. Right.” The lights came on abruptly; beside them, the barman was turning chairs upside-down. “The pub’s closing, sir,” Hathaway said, a little desperately. “We came in separate cars.” Then Lewis touched his arm, just above the wrist where he'd rolled his sleeves up, and all the breath went out of him.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t drive them both over to mine,” Lewis said evenly. “To talk. If that’s what you want.”
“I, yes.” And then, rallying a little, “I mean, that isn’t exclusively...”
The fondness shaded from puzzled to exasperated, and that was familiar, too. “Get your coat. And, no, don’t say it.”
“If you promise not to use the phrase setting your cap at, sir,” Hathaway said, giddy, and followed him out into the night.