sbpd_papabear | OOM: After Stumbling On Milliways

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OOM: After Stumbling On Milliways

It's been a couple days since they stumbled into some sort of shared hallucination (which is really the best thing he can think to call it) and neither one has broached the topic. For Henry's part, he's decided it's either too weird to talk about or never happened at all.

Instead, he's working late on Thursday night fixing paperwork that tried to claim Gus' car insurance as a state billable work expense. Nice try.

Just after seven, the station had gone more or less quiet - the steady din of the workday tapering off to the solemn click of a few keyboards punctuating the otherwise still environment. It was kind of nice... perfect time to grab a coffee and check out the snack machine for options to stave off dinner until he went home.

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Which is a far better compliment than anything anyone could ever tell him.

"We will." He nods reassuringly, his eyes softening with a somewhat tentative smile.

"Even if we are in over our heads."

That brings out a little laugh.

"Not the first time we've been there. Hopefully won't be the last either. We usually make it out all right."

He does enjoy the challenge - and the knowledge that they won't be investigating alone.

He raises what's left in his glass and mutters; "To partnerships?"

With a sigh, she clinks her half-empty glass against his.

"Partnerships. And solving this mystery."

She hopes and prays that they can, and then maybe she can regain some semblance of her sanity.

Hopefully, if there is a solution.

"Tonight..." he chuckles dryly, taking another large bite; "well, tonight I'm trying to eat slowly so we don't have to leave."

"Careful, Henry." Her smile returns. "I might start thinking you enjoy my company or something."

She shouldn't tease. She shouldn't even inch down that path, but shouldn't seems an incomprehensible concept lately. Or maybe it's just the wine, loosening her tongue.

Henry appreciates that about wine, except when it's on him.

"Well, it wouldn't be a far stretch by any means." He doesn't mean to smile, or flash the innocent puppy eyes, but somehow they always seem to happen when he can't pull a poker face.

"Not for me, either," she admits.

And his smile calls out her own, she can't resist it when he gives her the big eyes. The big eyes threaten to destroy her better judgement a little more every time she sees them.

He can't help the guilty twinge that catches him in the gut when smiles and lowers his eyes a long moment to force it back. There's nothing wrong with thinking, until thinking becomes action. No matter what people want to say otherwise.

"Hey now, I'm just a cranky old man and you know it." He stabs at his noodles as though that would prove his point; "You've got feminine charm and good looks on your side."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Henry, but I'm pretty sure that you were cranky young man."

She eats a mouthful of noodles, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"But that's your charm."

Well, he sort of has to give her that point... to be fair, he's probably less cranky than twenty years ago, and that's saying quite a bit.

"Careful there, I almost took that as a compliment." One eyebrow remains half-quirked and he twists another large bite - somewhat gracelessly managing it to his mouth.

Leaning in conspiratorially, she looks around as if she's about to impart a huge secret.

"It almost was one."

And the change of proximity alone is enough to draw up another warm flush across his head and an awkward laugh that he hopes he won't have to explain.

"Well... when you put it that way..." he mumbles into his water, taking an entirely too long sip to simply break the moment.

It's hard not to flirt when she's playing along, guilt or no he's not one to stop himself when he's on a roll.

"Good thing it wasn't, I might have had to be a little embarrassed about it."

That pulls her up a little short. Their banter has always left her feeling light inside, taking off a bit of the burden of work and responsibility. But the last thing she'd ever want to do is make him feel bad.

"I'm sorry, Henry. I was inappropriate."

"Not at all," he replies easily, looking her straight in the eyes. "If anything, I started on a train of thought I shouldn't be having about someone off the market."

The admission leaves him awkwardly looking down at his mostly empty plate, running his fingers absently over the stem of his glass.

"I know better."

"Oh." That's all she can say, overlapping thoughts trying to start a war in her head, and each getting tamped down because she can't sit and process that while he watches her.

"I encouraged it," she points out, quietly, over the rim of her wine glass. She knows she's that close to crossing the line.

Again.

She isn't just sounding crazy tonight. She really is. She's lost her mind.

The easy thing to do would be to escape, pay the bill and leave them both to their respective somewhat awkward thoughts, but Henry's never been a man to take the easy road when it comes to sensitive situations.

"It happens;" he forces himself to look up at her, a hint of his smile creasing the corners of his mouth; "Sometimes I just need to remember when to keep my mouth shut."

Now would probably be a good time, if not five minutes ago.

"Especially around people I might be inclined to say things I shouldn't around."

She thinks about that as she finishes her noodles and makes the executive decision to leave the second half of that second glass of wine right where it is, draining her water instead.

"You know, I've always felt like honesty is the best policy between friends."

His brain jumps on the thought, and he's pretty sure he's seconds away from being put in his place and told to back off - which his brain keeps telling him despite what his mouth may be saying.

"Yeah," he nods slowly, finishing the bottom of his glass of wine in preparation for the dressing down. "And you're right."

"So, honestly, I... well, I encouraged you on that train of thought. So, you know..."

She shrugs, but looks at him, doesn't break her gaze this time.

"Don't feel badly about it, is all I mean."

It takes a moment for the obvious to settle in, partially because he doesn't want to think about it, and partially because he's sure that he must be reading her wrong.

Not breaking the steady gaze, he swallows a sudden lump in his throat and says; "And by that you mean it wouldn't be unwelcome if I was being serious?"

It's an open enough statement, giving them both plenty of room to back out quickly.

"I know it should be, but," she shrugs, lips twisted in a half-smile, half-grimace. She squeezes her eyes closed for a long moment, but then meets his gaze once more.

"It's not wise and everything is very complicated, but it wouldn't be unwelcome at all."

The pieces fall as neatly into place as one can expect and Henry nods slowly, offering an honest but somewhat confused half-smile.

"I, uh..." he nods again, looking down into his empty wine glass; "I understand."

The awkward sinking in his stomach tells him it's probably a good time to not ask what he wants to ask... that he should just let things lie for the moment. "I know you've got an early morning... and I should probably be getting home."

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OOM: After Stumbling On Milliways

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