Disaster
Summary:As first dates go this is not what she had imagined.
A/N: A little fic I found while browsing through my comp; apparently I have a habit of writing stuff and then forgetting about it. =)
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Curious, everything seemed to have gone wrong.
Wrong in the way that you plastered on a wide smile, teeth obviously too noticeable as you tried to hamper down on a creeping feeling of unease.
It was undoubtedly a disaster.
It had started out less than what Sharon had imagined and somehow it had only gone downhill from there, at a decidedly faster pace than she had imagined, as if some unknown force was behind the both of them and made sure they catapulted directly into trouble.
It was awkward in amidst the slight familiarity, remarkably forced and somewhat nerve-racking.
She sipped from her water, twirled her fork around the penne's on her plate.
Maybe if she figured where it had gone wrong she could fix it; or at the very least understand why it was turning into a disaster.
After years of lingering glances and shy approaches, a forgotten kiss in between, they had at last decided to try a tentative date. She still cringed when she remembered that conversation, stumbling through words and trying to keep just a tad of dignity to herself. She remembered the boyish look on his face, the way he had a tendency to scratch the back of his head when he became flustered.
There was too much at stake when you worked together, when one was the direct superior of the other – too much at stake when there was reputation and conduct to uphold.
They had up until now kept quiet about everything that had been inappropriate between them, had ignored when touches lingered – had ignored that disastrous kiss. That kiss had been buried along with everything else; sometimes it was better to pretend nothing had happened.
But she wanted him; there was no question about it. She usually got what she wanted, even if she went about it in a backwards fashion, even if she tried to ignore the obvious desire. In the end she became tired of suggestive flirting and looks that they both knew would go nowhere.
She threw everything off-board; took him aside and granted, he was as relived as her to finally be able to bring up the subject. Of course he had naturally waited for her to make the first move; uncharacteristic of him, he was usually aggressive. Bewildering really, why she had waited for him to make the first move.
Besides their hesitation, besides the obvious pains it took to get to this point, she had no visible qualms about the date. It had been liberating to finally set things into motion.
It had been a forecast of something meant to go wrong from the very beginning. They were, apparently, better equipped to handle subtlety and disguised emotions; dating was too blatant and direct. Dating was fragile – it was a nervous thing. It was something she had not accounted for.
Why, it confused her. Everything leading up to the night had been nothing but comfortable – it had been easy and without troubles. Giggling and flirting over phones, sneaking off to stand in the deserted staircase meant for exit emergencies only, whispering about when and where – flirting about what to wear.
Good intentions aside, it went wrong from the beginning.
Her lieutenant arrived late – he was her lieutenant and she had taken to this endearment in her head, feeling ridiculous at the notion of this dizzying feeling inside of her and yet she embraced it.
He rang her doorbell in a flurry, puffing with exertion – apparently his car had blown a tire and it had taken quite a lot of time to change it. Good excuse nonetheless, she had vehemently tried to ignore waiting for a good twenty minutes without a phone call whatsoever. She abhorred tardiness, it was something that crawled beneath her skin and itched.
Somehow she had managed to pile this little annoyance away, had instead graced him with a smile and they had gone down to his car, ready to drive to the restaurant.
Only Rusty called in the middle of the car ride. In the middle of them trying to find a jazz station, playfully trying to exchange smiles while still keeping eyes on the road and the interruption of her phone had been loud. Her boy was worked up about his own little romance and she had tried to calm him down – it had taken a half hour in all. It had taken the whole trip in the car to the restaurant, not that she minded. She knew how nervous Rusty had been but every now and then she noticed the pinched little narrowed look her lieutenant got to his eyes when she had yet to explain the same thing to Rusty.
It was just a miniscule annoyance, nothing major. Why, the healthy thing would have been to ignore it. But she zeroed in on it instead; why he was late and now he was upset she talked through the whole ride? Naturally she became slightly annoyed as well.
So, maybe that was the reason it went downhill; both of them entering the restaurant slightly irritated, nothing major but just like a little itch.
The restaurant was wonderful, the food delicious.
However, without second thought she had ordered wine – she was on edge and felt in need of just calming down. Then she had remembered and what followed was an awkward, shy ping pong of 'oh, I'm sorry. I can just get' – 'no, no, I don't mind' – 'I'll have water' 'no, no get the wine'.
She ended up with a glass of red wine she had yet to sip; somehow she could not get herself to drink it – it was like a big elephant in the middle of the table even if – she was positive in this – he did not mind one bit.
Then had followed delightful appetizers and a vegetarian main course, and a conversation that finally seemed somewhat fluid. Only it kept being interrupted by little things like one of them calling the other 'Capt'n' and 'Lieutenant'; their rank instantly stopping both of them, caught them looking decidedly more and more awkward.
It was peculiar, the sudden nervousness instead of excitement. Maybe it was the notion of being out in the open – maybe it was the notion of being pulled into a whirlpool of unease every time he slipped and called her Captain. He looked decidedly chastised every time lieutenant left her mouth, not that his expression became better when she quickly amended and called him Andy. If she had not been feeling edgy herself she might have found it funny, her calling him Lieutenant Andy.
It would have been salvageable; they could have chalked it down to nerves and had a laugh about it.
However, the night took another surprising turn. Somehow her ex-husband turned up; she nearly got a penne stuck in her throat when she saw the familiar figure approaching their table, that certain glint of annoying mischief in his eyes. Why, the bastard was not even supposed to be in LA.
She quickly swallowed water and prayed this would turn out to be a nightmare. She prayed she would wake up in her own bed any second now.
"Darling," her ex sweetly greeted, coming around and giving her a quick – but not quick enough – kiss on the cheek, "You look," he paused, his eyes roaming, "absolutely wonderful."
Then followed the certain little polite conversation about their shared kids and introducing Andy Flynn who looked like someone trapped between confusion and annoyance. It reminded her that her lieutenant was not known for his patience. Her stomach clenched and her fingers twitched the longer her ex stood at their table, a bastardly gracious smile at the both of them, eyes taking in her date. Her lieutenant had taken to a glower.
Thankfully her ex soon left but not without clapping Andy on the back and telling him to take good care of her; it was at this point she excused herself to go to the toilet, desperately in need of some space and room to breathe.
She practically half-ran to the back, slamming the toilet door with a more pronounced thud than necessary.
Maybe someone was trying to tell her this was out of bounds; maybe this was the reason you should not date co-workers. Maybe she was trying to visualize obstacles so she would not have to go through with this, another part of her defended – she was nervous. Why though, it confounded her.
Back at the table she tried to steer the conversation away from the obvious topic of her ex-husband who really was not her ex-husband but still her husband; Andy Flynn was adamant however, and had no qualms about pursuing this subject. It must fascinate him on some level, subtle questions left and right, all centered on what did not escape her notice; what kind of presence did her ex-husband have in her life and the whole little problematique of why they were not divorced.
It felt like an interrogation of some sort. Her answers were short and curt; under the best of circumstances she could joke about the matter but this was not the best of circumstance; she was gradually becoming more and more worked up herself. It led to counter-attack. If he was so interested in her past marriage, why then she was intent on firing back questions of her own.
It shut him up.
Then followed a silent little moment with the both of them chewing adamantly, sipping their respective waters and trying to flatten out the angry little tendrils under their skin.
It was hard; she could feel it inside. Warm aggravation that she really did not want to let go of but instead she felt ready to fan it; why she could use a good distraction now to alleviate the pressure of feeling uncomfortable.
He seemed to agree; dessert became a flurry of passive aggressive back and forth; hard, brusque words that one delivered to the other, derisive, sarcastic words that were sent back.
She could feel her cheeks warming up, her body tingling – her stomach in knots.
Goddamn but he was relentlessly annoying when he chose to be. A righteous, smug bastard when he chose to; it slipped underneath her skin and alighted her on fire. She felt ready to sink her teeth into his skin and bite.
If was like being transported back to those days where they had approached each other with nothing but antagonism and smug attitudes; only there was a definite layer of something else to it now.
His voice became just a tad more loud, just a tad more gruff – suddenly lacking all pretense of polite and shyness. Her own voice fell down to a low timbre; her mouth changing between small gleeful smiles and small belligerent smiles.
The couple sitting next to them began fidgeting in their seats, began looking at them with exasperation out of the corner of their eyes.
She arched an eyebrow back at them; no one was going to tell her off for having a somewhat heated conversation – why, it was perfectly restrained seeing as they had yet to raise their voices and stump off in anger.
It was a flurry of angry retorts, sarcastic replies and in the midst – to her surprise – there was a little snippet of flirting.
It was a battle of, 'why are you so impossible' – 'why are you so goddamn defensive' 'I should have known this would happen' 'shit you are a-' 'what, say it' – 'nothing' – 'well I'll say it then, I'm a bitch – but you know what' - ' no and I don't wanna know, but you're going to tell me anyway' – 'you're a complete bastard' – 'that's the worst you can do' – 'what, you want me to insult you, deliberately' – 'I get called worse things, why, bastard is practically a compliment' – 'Ug, I want to strangle you' – 'right back at ya, Capt'n' – 'oh, stop it' – 'you stop it'
Then silence and trying hard not to look at each other.
Then suddenly eye contact and snorts of laughter.
It did not help much; they were tense, wary and well if she had to admit it, hot and bothered.
Maybe they needed a little distraction; she slipped her shoe off, slowly settled her toes against his leg.
His eyes widened and a small smile came out to play on his lips, turned more and more rogue as her foot crept up.
It would maybe have saved the night – only both of their phones suddenly started ringing, a cacophony of loud ringing tunes.
They both straightened up, answered – both somewhat knowing it would work, knowing it would mean murder.
Then it became another little world of awkward, driving in the same car to a crime scene, trying deliberately to ignore each other and pretend they had not been on a date; it was hard when they were both dressed up.
She held her hand up, arched her eyebrow when Provenza looked on the verge of commenting.
Now if only it had been a regular murder scene but FID was on scene as well – it soon evolved into shouting matches and pointing accusatory fingers – another battle, only she was stuck in the middle, trying to calm down both sides and make both parties see the point. She only accomplished making herself the target, so she was stuck with a sour looking major crimes division who crossed arms and exuded anger at her and on the other side was old colleagues in FID who took to the exact same attitude, enraged she would not give way.
At this point she was tired and angry; so she lashed out at both divisions, her voice dangerously low and calm in its rage; her eyes narrowed as she took turns scolding every single one of them and demanding they put aside their trivial little begrudging's and work together as goddamn adults. It did not help one bit.
She crossed her own arms and decided to be as passive aggressive as everyone else.
The situation only worsened when Taylor turned up.
Twelve hours later, early morning and she was finally on her way home – even more exhausted now. It would have been bliss, the feeling of knowing the case was resolved and she had the opportunity to sleep but her lieutenant – her date – was driving her home and he was as exhausted as her and silently fuming about whatever had him worked up now.
She watched him open and close his mouth a number of times but never getting around to the point of actually articulating what was on his mind. It was for the better, anything said now would only deteriorate the thing between them, why they would end up in another battle – only she was sure this one would be in really loud voices and end in unresolved anger.
She could not restrain herself however, when he parked in front of her complex and was waiting for her to get out of the car.
"What, no kiss goodbye?"
She should have kept her mouth closed; or maybe it was just the right thing to say.
He practically leapt across the gear stick, hands roughly in her hair and before she knew it he was indeed kissing her goodnight – which turned out to be a good morning snog in their case.
She relented and kissed him back, hands coming into his hair, turning her body around – edging closer.
Why, it was the first time that something felt right.
"No more dating," he said in a breathless, gruff tone in between a kiss.
She nodded, "Just sex – and lots and lots of it."
He smiled in agreement and kissed her again.
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