Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. This one was the product of insomnia and seemed stuck in my head, interrupting me, so I had to write it down.

"Fancy a drink?"

Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley looked up from his desk. His sergeant stood with just her hands gripping the doorframe of his office and her head poking around. A loose strand of reddish hair hung down and caught on her cotton blouse which was a size or two too small. She was as dishevelled as ever but also as beautiful. He smiled at her. She often made him smile in a lopsided, almost goofy way. No one else had ever made him smile like that. No one else had ever made him feel quite the way Barbara Havers did. He never minded looking foolish because when he smiled like that her eyes and face lit up in a way that convinced him that she returned his feelings.

"Sure. Give me five?"

"Five, not more. Not like last week." He nodded. Then he had taken nearly an hour to finish his report, but she had still waited. He would not abuse her patience twice.

"Five only," he reassured her.

Barbara smiled then disappeared. Tommy missed her already. The time was approaching when he would have to say something about his feelings for her, but he could never find the right words at the right time. His mind formed perfectly articulated arguments whenever it was inappropriate, such as sitting in Assistant Commissioner Hillier's office listening to him droning on about crime statistics, but never when they were alone.

Barbara was still grinning when she returned to her desk. Winston Nkata looked up. "So, you have your date for tonight set then?"

"Ugh. It's not a date, just a couple of pints with my boss."

"You two spend more time together than most married couples, and yet you go out after work too. I believe they call that a date."

"Whatever you need to believe Winston. I think a date is where there is some romantic interest between people. We're just friends."

Winston's eyebrows shot up before he laughed and shook his head. "You actually expect me to believe that?"

Barbara poked her tongue out. "The DI doesn't see me that way. It's just drinks."

"Then you are blind."

"Nonsense. Friends, just friends." Barbara was pleased to hear Tommy coming down the corridor. "Good night, Winston," she said as she gathered her bag and coat and headed for the door.

After their third pint, Tommy started to fiddle with his glass, spinning in his hand. "I was wondering..."

Barbara looked up and waited for him to continue. When he said nothing, she prompted him. "Wondering what?"

Tommy inhaled slowly. "Whether you'd do me the honour of accompanying me to a ball? It's for a charitable cause, to help children in Africa."

"A ball? With long gowns and dancing?"

"Yes, that's about the sum of it."

"Sir, I don't think... I'd be an appropriate partner for that sort of thing."

"Nonsense."

"Why?"

"Because you underestimate yourself."

"No, I mean why ask me? You could take anyone."

"I want to be with you."

Barbara felt her face flush with colour. "Why?"

"We enjoy each other's company. Do I need a better reason?"

She sighed. "No."

"So?"

"I meant no, I'm sorry, but no. Not a ball. If you enjoy my company, we could go to a movie or something. Not a ball."

Barbara could tell he was disappointed, but he tried to smile. "I understand."

"Good," she replied gruffly. She dared not look at him in case his eyes persuaded her to change her mind.

Barbara was not focussed on anything in particular as she walked from her flat to the tube station. In fact, she was trying too hard not to think about the evening before. It had been sweet of Tommy to invite her to the ball, but too much. She hoped he accepted her hint and, if he wanted to take her on a proper date, he could invite her to the movies. She intended to check the showings each week so that she could readily suggest a cinema and film.

"Oh my..."

Barbara looked up and saw it. She quickly glanced towards the heavens. "Is this supposed to be a sign?"

No lightning bolts or thunder answered her, so she was left to admire the gown proudly displayed in the centre of the op shop window. Emerald green and strapless with a beaded bodice and full skirt, it was far more daring than Barbara would dream of wearing. As she studied it, her objections faded. The colour was bold, but it suited her eyes and skin. It was a colour she could wear. The straplessness was not as bad as she first thought, as the tight bodice ensured her generous assets would stay in place. A thin lacy wrap in the same colour covered the dummy's shoulders and could be held in place by bringing it forward and clamping it under her arms. Magnetically drawn into the shop, she surprised herself by asking the lady its size and price.

"Fifty pounds. At that price, it's a steal."

Barbara nodded. That was manageable. "And the size?"

"Try it on. It was tailored, so it's size isn't exact."

Barbara glanced at her watch. "I should be on the train. I have to go to work."

"It might be gone by tonight. We only received it yesterday."

Against her better judgment, Barbara acquiesced. "I don't suppose trying it on will hurt."

Tommy's head ached. He had continued his acquaintance with whiskey once he had returned from the pub. It was hard not to feel rejected, but he knew it was the ball and his social standing she had spurned, not him. If Barbara wanted to start dating by going to the movies, that would have to do. No point rushing things.

He wandered into the squad room. He had expected Barbara to be in half an hour ago. "Anyone know where DS Havers is?"

Most people shook their heads or shrugged. Only Winston shuffled about trying to look busy.

"Nkata?"

Winston looked up but hesitated. "Er, she rang to say she missed her train."

Tommy looked at his watch. "And the next three it seems. Send her to my office when she arrives."

"Yes, Sir."

"The DI wants to see you. He noticed you were late."

"Thanks, Winston. He'll be fine. Don't look so worried."

"He looks... a bit unwell."

Barbara sighed. It was their code for his moody anger after he had been drinking. She imagined her refusal had played a significant part. She only hoped he understood she had not said no to moving their friendship forward, but to start with a ball? That had seemed too much. She took a deep breath then knocked on his door.

"Yes."

"Morning, Sir. Sorry I was late."

Tommy waved his hand dismissively as she walked towards his desk. He looked worried. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, it wasn't..."

Tommy cut her off. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't think it through. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."

Barbara stopped walking. "I shouldn't have been so rude. It was nice of you to invite me, and... if the invitation is still open, I'll go with you."

"Oh?"

Tommy's face drained of colour then flushed red. Barbara winced. She apparently had misread him, and now had wasted £50. "Sorry, I understand. You've invited someone else." She turned to leave.

"No. Wait. I haven't. You'll come? To the ball? Are you sure?"

Barbara turned back. "Yes. If you want me to go."

"I do."

Tommy smiled at her so fondly that her insides liquefied. Barbara put her hand on the back of his visitor's chair to steady herself. What have I done? "Good," she squeaked.

"Very good," he replied, his eyes never moving from hers.

"Yeah."

"Mmm."

Barbara knew her face was red. She could feel the blood under her skin boiling. "I should go... work..."

"Mmm..."

"Okay then... I'll see you later."

"Dinner?"

"Sorry?"

"Dinner. Tonight. There's a new Italian ristorante I'd like to try. I thought... if you're hungry..."

Barbara nodded. Was this a real date? "Er... Yeah. Sure. After work..."

Tommy grinned at her. This time it was one of his cheeky, teasing smiles. "That's when I usually eat dinner."

"Righto. See you later. I... work..."

"Yes, I should do some too."

Tommy was still grinning at her as she backed out of his office. She stood against his door and took a few moments to compose herself.

Tommy was unsure what to expect as he rubbed his hands down his trousers then knocked on her door.

"Hang on. I can't get into my dress."

"Can I help?" Tommy screwed up his face as he imagined how that had sounded to Barbara.

Instead of abuse the door flew open and green silk swirled in his face. "There's a hook, but it's too hard with my hands shaking."

Tommy pulled both edges of her dress together, trying hard not to stare at the unblemished alabaster of her back. It was like a fine sculpture, and he wanted to run his hands over it. He swallowed hard and tried not to let his fingers brush her skin as he hooked up her dress. "Done."

"Good. Come in." The swirling green disappeared down the hallway ahead of him. "Am I running late?"

"No, I'm early."

"Okay. I just need to find my shoes. I put them somewhere in here."

"Stop a second. I bought you this."

Barbara turned and frowned. "Me?"

Tommy could not help but laugh at her reaction. Then he looked at her. In her green gown, her hair looked redder, and her eyes were like emeralds. Momentarily, he stopped breathing. "You look stunning," he finally managed. He walked over to her and handed her a small gold-wrapped box. "I... I should have bought emeralds."

Barbara took the box and looked down. "Should I have bought you something?"

Tommy knew her well enough to know buying her a gift was tricky. "No! I... the man usually buys his guest something small as a token of thanks. I hope you like it."

"Thanks." Barbara removed the wrapping paper with unusual care. When she opened the box, her jaw flapped up and down, but no words came out.

She looked up at him, and he melted. With great restraint, he did not pull her to him and kiss her. "I thought you might like them."

"I do. Please tell me they're paste. I could never wear real diamonds."

Tommy reached out and touched her hand as it cradled the box. She was shaking. "Yes, you can. I think tonight is the perfect time."

"Okay."

Barbara turned and walked into her bedroom. Tommy stayed in her lounge. She was back within the minute, an awkward smile right across her face. "They're exquisite."

Tommy studied her carefully. The earrings were the perfect size for her ears. Her gown was a season or two behind the fashion, but it fitted her perfectly, hugging curves he never knew she had and yet being suitably modest. One day he would ask her about the dress, but not tonight; she was far too self-conscious and nervous. "They suit you. You look stunning, Barbara."

Barbara's neck and face blushed. "Thank you, Sir. You don't scrub up too bad yourself."

"Tommy. Please, tonight call me Tommy."

Barbara looked as if she was about to call the whole thing off then she smiled and looked down. "Tommy."

His name had a musical sound the way she said it. He wanted to hear her say it over and over. To whisper it. To cry it out. To say it while they did something as mundane as grocery shopping. He never wanted her to call him anything else again. "See. It's not that hard. Got your shoes?"

Lord Pakington was the most boring man Barbara had ever met. Ex-military of some sort and a widower, he had no conversation beyond strong opinions on the reintroduction of the death penalty and conscription. He had her wedged into a corner, and her desperate pleas to Tommy were met with a huge smile. She gave him one last piercing look. It worked.

"Hello, James. I see you have captured my partner. What's my penalty for her safe return?"

Pakington thumped Tommy on the back and chortled something close to his ear before bowing to Barbara and promising to dance with her later. "I'd rather have my eyeballs tattooed," she said emphatically as the man strode away in search of his next prey.

She was doing her best to feign interest in the dull men and women associated with the charity. The only ones she liked were the workers dealing directly with the children. They lived in the real world. She was glad Tommy had a job that showed him different sides of life. Most of his lot were too insular, and cloistered in a fantasyland that bore no resemblance to her experience.

Tommy took her hand. "Do you dance?"

"Sort of. I can waltz."

"Excellent. Join me?"

As she expected, Tommy was an excellent dancer. She followed him effortlessly and felt secure in his arms. They sat out the dances she was not familiar with, taking the opportunity to mingle or have a drink. Each waltz though, he took her hand and led her back into the polished floor of the Savoy's ballroom.

As the evening wound down to a close, the music slowed. Barbara expected Tommy to stop dancing. Instead, he moved closer until she could feel his body pressed against her. Their leading hands retreated to rest against their chests, and Tommy's other hand slipped from her back down to lie just above her tailbone. She was not immune to the sensations of closeness. Without thought, her head rested against the lapel of his jacket, where she could listen to the soothing rhythm of his heart. When he laid his cheek lightly on her head, she sighed. She felt connected, emotionally and physically. Everything about it seemed right.

Tommy had noticed how brilliant she had been dealing with people he knew she would dislike. He had seen glimpses of disdain in her eyes, but she had disguised it well. As his plus one, she had been so much more than he had ever hoped she would be. Her instincts for character had kept her away from trouble. He suspected a few of his contemporaries wanted details of Helen's death and his subsequent fall from grace. The Oborne's had followed the very British tradition of hinting at great scandal by denying it but cutting him entirely from their circle. Barbara had always been overtly loyal to him, and he imagined she had quickly shut down anyone who wanted to gossip about him.

She was also a quick learner. He had observed her scrutinising people with her copper's eye and then replicating the behaviour. He had been impressed that within an hour she had learnt how to sit in a ball gown, how to manage canapés gracefully, and was speaking more slowly to better hide her accent behind more generic BBC pronunciations. She had seen him studying her once or twice and had rolled her eyes. He hoped that she knew how much he appreciated her efforts.

As they danced, he took the opportunity to comment. "You handled Pakington wonderfully well."

"The old fart has roaming hands. I thought about arresting him."

"I'm glad you didn't, but are you alright?"

"Fine. He's not the first creep I've met."

"Here, or generally?"

"Both."

Barbara allowed him to twirl her around. She was a much better dancer than she had indicated. As the music slowed and the lights dimmed, he pulled her closer to him. Around them, couples stole kisses, both short and affectionate, and a few considerably racier. Tommy wished he could follow their lead. No social rule said he could not kiss her, but Tommy did not want to share that first kiss, a moment he expected to remember forever, with a roomful of strangers. Instead, he savoured the feeling of being so close, in every sense of the word.