This fic is inspired by the scene in MC 1x06 when Flynn says he knows a woman who works at DCFS and says, "I've been looking for an excuse to call her anyway." First chapter is a teaser, and the following ones will be longer. Enjoy! - kathleen
"You shouldn't flop your elbows on the table like that."
"God, Sharon—it's bad enough living with normal police. Can you please not be the manners police on top of that?" Rusty burrowed his elbows further into the tablecloth, ignoring her disapproving stare as his eyes skimmed over the menu. "I can't even read half of these words. Can we go home and order pizza?"
She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her voice even. "Did it occur to you that I might have not had the greatest day either?" Her fingers tugged at the tablecloth, straightening the wrinkles.
"Yeah well they have therapists for that. I don't see how French food is a solution."
"Yeah well neither is whining, so deal with it."
She watched his mouth flop open for a short second to counter her reply, then shift into a grin. A signal he was out of excuses and willing to play nice.
"I'm sorry, Sharon. Would you like to tell me about your horrible day?" he ventured, his voice turning saccharine. His arms retreated graciously off the table, and his hands folded neatly into his lap.
"Okay stop," she laughed. "I like you better grumpy-this is just scary."
"No seriously, I'm sorry. Places like this just make me feel like uncomfortable."
"Being uncomfortable is a part of trying new things."
"Yeah I guess," By now his fingers had escaped back to the table, twirling the small glass candleholder as she imagined him accidently setting the entire restaurant on fire. "But this seems more like a date place to me."
Sharon frowned, her eyes combing the room for evidence. "No, I see families here all the time. Look, over there, that man's with his daughter."
Rusty turned in his seat, his face flashing back towards her in disgust. "Yeah well his hand's on his daughter's leg so I really hope they're not related."
"Hmm. Maybe you're right. Pizza tomorrow?"
"I'm going over to Michael's house tomorrow night." His tongue flopped out in revulsion as the couple across the room began to kiss.
"Stop staring."
His eyes shifted back to the tablecloth. "Look, Sharon. I know that your personal life is none of my business. And believe me, I prefer it that way. But I feel like you'd have a better time if you went out to eat with someone who's better at ordering and better at listening than a teenager."
"I have friends," she protested, feeling slightly cornered by his insight.
He leaned forward. "No. I mean like. a. date," he whispered, his face contorting as spit out the last word.
Her shoulders instinctively hunched in defense as she snapped her menu shut. "We are not having this conversation."
"Being uncomfortable is a part of trying new things, Sharon."
"My personal life is not escargot, Rusty."
"Yeah well, I have no idea what that means. All I'm saying is that I am perfectly fine being left at home on a Friday night. You'll save some money and I won't be forced to eat something scraped off the bottom of the ocean."
She smiled, feeling her anxieties ease slightly at his obvious concern. "Rusty." She didn't know where to start. "I appreciate that you—"
"Hey!" his chin jerked up as he pointed behind her. "Isn't that Lieutenant Flynn?"
Sharon's head swiveled around, her eyes jetting in the direction of Rusty's motions.
He was right. It was Andy. And someone else too.
"Who's that hot woman? Wow, go Flynn."
Her head swung back around as her body sank lower in her chair. "Rusty, please lower your voice and—"
"Yeahhh, definitely not his daughter. We should say hi."
Her stomach dropped to the floor. "Rusty, no. Please st—
"FLYYNNNN!" he yelled, waving his hands above his head as they caught the attention of the entire restaurant.
