Short and a little cracky, but the idea has been bouncing around my head all season. I apologise. Thanks to PenguinOfTroy for encouraging me to post.
.
Mum's The Word.
.
Rick settles into the armchair as Kate's long legs carry her across the room and back (again).
"This is a nightmare."
"It's not a nightmare," he counters.
Kate pauses in her pacing to cast him a look. The frown melts from her face and for a brief moment she smiles softly at him. "No, not a nightmare."
"Not ideal," he concedes and she nods.
It's a conversation they've had several times a week for the past few months. "They can't actually fire you, can they?"
Kate shrugs. "Maybe."
"We'll fight it if they do. You're the best detective in the city."
Kate's smile widens. "Thanks, but that won't matter – we are talking about Gates."
"I think she knows."
"She doesn't know."
Rick shrugs. "She must suspect."
Rick can count on one hand (and one finger) how many people they've told about their relationship; his mother, her father, his daughter, Lanie, Ryan and Espo (assuming "told" is being used in the loosest sense of the word, of course).
The amount of people who know is an altogether different story – his doorman, her super, the sweet old lady in 9B, the guy at their local coffee shop, the coat clerk from Black Pawn's last Christmas party, half of the Hamptons PD, his publisher, her lady doctor, the one tabloid reporter he'd had to bribe, that cab driver who saw her with her hand – but that isn't really his point, is it?
His point is that they've done a pretty decent job of keeping it all under wraps before (for a high profile detective and a sort-of-pseudo-semi-celebrity, that is).
But it's not like they were married and no, officially, they weren't living together either (even if the last time it was Kate's turn to host a poker game they'd had to send over a team of cleaners to clear the cobwebs) but she has been living with him (to his great pleasure) and they have been more or less kind of acting like an old married couple of late (even greater).
They'd been doing such an excellent job of keeping it off anyone's radar that the precinct had even, as far as Rick knows, officially closed the pool on them.
But Kate's due back in a few weeks and they still haven't come up with anything resembling a story or a decent plan of attack.
And now?
Now they really need one.
Because now?
Now the carefully planned strategies, the intricately woven webs and delicately spun tales just aren't going to work.
And he's okay with that (mostly) but he can see the panic etched into Kate's (beautiful) features.
(He considers telling her she's beautiful, but decides he might need to hold on to that card for a little longer.)
Kate perches on the arm of his chair. "What are we going to do?"
Rick shrugs, his leg bouncing. He's no closer to an answer than he was at the start of the conversation (or any of the previous ones). "You're beautiful?"
Kate laughs as her hand settles over his knee. "Don't do that," she says. "You'll make him sick."
"I won't."
"Rick." She says his name as a warning and he forces his leg to settle.
"Don't want him spilling his guts early, eh?"
Kate snorts at his bad pun and plucks the sleeping child from his lap. She cradles the small boy to her chest and Rick's heart all but melts (all over again). He can't (at all) bring himself to regret the mess they're in.
"Don't worry about it, Kate," he says, fingertips stroking the willowy hair atop his son's head. "We'll figure something out."
"How?"
Rick shrugs. "No idea, but we still have a while before he learns to talk."