The best they hoped for was to get back to normal. Find steady, even ground. Strengthen their partnership. Rebuild their friendship.
This was something close to normal. Something they'd done before. Back in the good old days. Familiar. Safe.
Cracking a case while burning the midnight oil. His apartment or hers. It never mattered. This time it's his.
The pizza box is half empty. Two glasses of wine are barely touched. File folders are spread far and wide. His jacket is tossed over the back of a chair. Her shoes are off. His shirt sleeves are rolled up. One bare foot is tucked under her.
She stretches, taking a break. He yawns, taking a swallow of wine. She shares a raunchy joke her father told her. He tells a slightly off-color story about a night he spent in Paris while in the Army.
She watches his face closely as he acts out the drunken debauchery. He feels lightheaded and happy. The joy bubbles up and out her. Her laughter fills him with hope.
She's surprised when he makes the first move. He never expected to make the first move.
His fingers curl under her chin and her laughter trickles away. Their lips meet and she tastes of tomato sauce and merlot. His lips are softer than she expects, his beard a bit rougher.
The kiss is tentative. Then it isn't. At all.
A long finger crooks into a belt loop and he pulls her onto his lap. She makes quick work of the knot in his tie and it flutters over her shoulder. His hands are warm on her breasts. Her fingers feather through the curls at his nape. He sighs. She moans.
They barely make it to the bedroom. Bits and pieces of clothing are lost along the way. Long held passion fuels them past regrets. Past recriminations. Past inhibitions.
Everything changes. Everything remains the same.
They are lovers now. They are partners.
They would give their lives for each other. They already have.
The End and The Beginning