Tougher Than the Rest
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.
Well it ain't no secret I've been around a time or two
Well I don't know but maybe You've been around too
All you gotta do is say yes
And if you're looking for love Honey I'm tougher than the rest
"Tougher Than The Rest," as sung by Chris LeDoux
1. Dinner
Sitting outside on the patio at Java Jolt, ignoring his buzzing cell phone and typing away on his laptop's keyboard, muttering to himself. People left him alone, and he liked it that way. Made it easier to think, and besides, he was taking a little time for himself. An hour or two, Special Agent William Fowler promised, to take care of a few personal matters. Like the letter sitting beside his laptop, a photo included in the envelope propped up on the screen. Nothing like a little guilt to prompt him to try and to the right thing.
And then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and nearly jumped out of his chair. Twisting around in his seat, ready to rip the jackass a new one for disturbing him, he blushed, seeing it was June Darby. She smiled, invading his space, picking up the picture by his laptop.
"I didn't know you had a family," June said. "Good-looking boys. And she's pretty." She was pointing at the woman in the picture, and he took it back.
"That's my sister, Melodie, and her two boys, Easton and Thomas," he said.
"Oh, my mistake," June said.
"It's OK," Fowler said, at a loss for words as the woman sat down. At his table.
"I hope you don't mind," June said. "I just need a few minutes to sit down. I worked the day shift today. . .it was crazy. I spent most of my time in the ER, and what little time I spent on the floor I was running."
"I don't mind," Fowler said. "I bet your job is just as crazy as mine, and we both can't talk about it, federal regulations and all."
"No kidding," she said.
"Hey, where's Jack?" he asked.
"Camping with Raf and Miko and Bulkhead," June said. "They'll be back in the morning. What are you doing in town?"
"Had a meeting at the base," he said. "I'm driving back to Las Vegas later tonight, then a flight back to DC for even more meetings on Monday."
"Sounds fun," June said, standing.
"You have no idea," Fowler said. "Budget hearings are torture."
"Have a safe trip," June said, walking away.
He nodded, going back to his e-mail.
"Are you hungry? You could come to my place for dinner," she said.
"Sure," he said, surprising himself by saying yes.
"You can follow me over," June said.
Fifteen minutes later, he was in his car, following June's old Ford across Jasper and then into the driveway at Casa Darby. Then he was in the house, standing like an idiot in the middle of the living room while his host changed into something more comfortable.
William, you have got to get your mind out of the gutter, he thought. The woman had just worked a 12-hour shift in a hospital. In an ER. She asked him over for dinner. Just dinner. Sure he'd hugged her after the Unicron fiasco, but that was a moment of celebration. He would never in a million years admit he was attracted to her. Did he just admit that to himself? Hell yes.
And now she was walking by him, saying she was going to cook, or order takeout, but remembering her preference for health food, he volunteered to fix dinner.
"You don't have to," she said.
"I'll cook, and do the dishes after," he said. "It's the least I can do. You've been on your feet all day. I've been sitting on my backside in meetings. You sit. Find something to watch on TV, or read. Or you can talk while I cook. Whatever you like."
The smile she gave him was more than enough, he thought.
2. Trust
He couldn't pin down the moment things changed. Maybe it was the night she patched him up after a particularly nasty confrontation with MECH. He'd mixed it up one on one with Silas and Ratchet had his hands full with repairing the bots, the medic called the one person he could trust—June Darby.
Ratchet kept up a one-sided dialogue, berating Fowler and the rest of his injured cohorts for their stupidity, but the agent knew it was just bluster. Ratchet. June, on the other hand. . .he didn't want to face her. Jack, Miko and Raf were fine. Not a scratch on them. Silas had paid for trying to touch the children. He and Optimus had made sure of that. Silas' base was leveled, and the Army was still rounding up and detaining any MECH personnel unlucky enough to get left behind before base went up in flames. He didn't know that until after he was back at the Autobot base. He was going to have to clean up the mess Optimus made, but it was OK.
3. Damage
Fowler had a couple of days off. He was going to check up on Prime and the gang first, then go by the Darby residence. Just to see how June was getting on with the new addition to the household, maybe take the kids fishing or something. Gods, was he really thinking that? Yes. Well, maybe June could use a short break from having two teen boys in the house. Becoming Raf's foster mother hadn't been easy, but he'd helped. What was the good in being a government agent if you couldn't take advantage of the resources at hand?
Just pulling into town when he received the frantic phone call. From June. Her husband was back, and could he please come?
He raced across town, breaking more than a few laws, sprinting across the front yard, finding the front door open. Searching the house for June, finding her huddled in the bathroom, face bruised from where the bastard hit her. He got a neighbor to come over and stay with her until the police could come and take a statement. And he was going to go take care of the son of a bitch himself. He was bending the rules, but he didn't care. Perfectly justifiable, bringing an asshole to heel. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for—a broken down Dodge truck fitting the description June gave him, parked at a budget hotel on the edge of town. He'd called in a few favors to get the bastard's pertinent information.
It didn't take long, either. He'd lied to the police, telling them the rat hit him first, when it really was the other way around. The man would live, but he was beat to a bloody pulp, but he wouldn't bother June again.
4. Entanglement
In town again, checking up on the bots and June and the kids. He saw the three teens a few minutes before they headed off to the movies, leaving him and June alone. Things had changed since the incident with her husband. Ex-husband, Fowler corrected himself. That sad sack of trash didn't deserve to have been her husband, or to have a great kid like Jack. Jack was only five when the jerk left them.
Fowler admired her strength and courage. Putting herself through nursing school while raising a child alone was not easy. Then dealing with her son's new friends from another planet and everything going with it. The woman had gumption, and he was lucky she considered him among her friends.
Friends. Just friends. Enough? Maybe, especially after everything she'd been through lately. A lot of changes, mostly good. Getting custody of Raf, becoming a supervisor at the hospital, and a divorce.
He snapped back to reality when her voice finally filtered through his thoughts.
"I'm ordering Chinese," she said. "I'm ordering enough for two. You're staying for dinner. I could use the company."
Spending the evening with her—eating dinner and watching old movies. June moving closer and closer on the couch as the evening wore on, until he had his arm around her. The end of the movie and that was his cue to leave. He was not going to ruin a good thing by giving in to his own selfish desires. She wanted a friend, not something serious in her life, and if she did, it would not be with him.
Except she didn't kiss him on the cheek when he said good night, and he never made it out the door. She kissed him. Actually kissed him, on the lips, and meant it. He kissed her back, and suddenly her hands were pushing off his jacket and pulling his tie off and throwing it across the room and hands on his buttons and all coherent thought was gone.
Then it's 3:30 in the morning, and he's sitting on the side of her bed in his boxers, staring at the floor, fighting the urge to look back over his shoulder at her. She's wearing his shirt, curled on her side, dark hair fanned out under her cheek as she sleeps, and it's the most beautiful sight he's seen in a long time. This time, he's screwed up. He knows it. The situation and their friendship is FUBARed.
I'll leave, he thinks, just get dressed and go. Call her in the morning. Talk things over. But she's rolling over, feeling for him in her sleep, and she wakes up when she can't feel the warmth of him next to her.
"Bill, what's wrong?" June asks, sitting up.
"Nothing. Just thinking," he says, laying down next to her. He'll deal with the consequences later.