Author's note: Although I just published a ficlet to honor Barbara Hale's birthday, I haven't really been around for ages. And I missed this place, missed the fun I always had enjoying (and writing) some D/P romance. I'm not sure I can say I'm back, but I have found a way to make time for our favorite couple again. This is my first attempt at writing about them after a two year absence. I still feel a little rusty. I mean, I haven't really been writing fiction in all that time, but at least ideas are flowing again and that's a good thing. So please bare with me. "TCOT Comfortable Couch" is not one of my usual stories, but rather a collection of moments and impressions other characters have of Della and Perry. And then there's them, of course. Please also know that this story is finished. If I've learned one thing from my still unfinished "Without You", it's never to start posting a story that's not completely done. It will "haunt" you for years if there's no time to wrap it up. Which doesn't mean I'm giving up on it. Call me stubborn, but I have set my mind to finishing it somehow, someday. Until then, I hope you'll enjoy this one instead! :)
Disclaimer: TV show timeline. Completely Della-Perry, also through other characters' eyes. Character cameos: Paul Drake, Mae Kirby, Lieutenant Tragg, Hamilton Burger, Gertrude Lade, Carl Jackson, Holly Cosgrove and Frank Faulkner.
The Case of the Comfortable Couch
Holly Cosgrove unlocked the door to her favorite office: Perry Mason, attorney-at-law on the 9th floor of the Brent building. She liked the air of laid-back formality it oozed, the aroma of mental labor paired with joy, the odor of chocolate in the reception area, perfume in the walk-through office occupied by Miss Street and aftershave in Mr. Mason's adjoining room. She enjoyed the welcoming atmosphere, the flowers and artwork displayed in each room saying so much about the attorney and his head of office. Having met Mr. Mason on occasion, Holly Cosgrove had always enjoyed engaging in a friendly chat about his furnishings or talking to Miss Street about the latest rearrangements in her welcoming office. She also enjoyed their sense of order and cleanliness, their respect and decency towards her, the cleaning lady. No matter how late she had found them working behind their desks, they never left their coffee mugs unattended for her to swill them, nor did they ever expect her to clear up the mess they occasionally made while working on a particularly numbing case. Miss Street, with all her poise and expertise, never shied away from doing the dishes and always left the office neat enough for her to give it a proper cleaning. Holly Cosgrove appreciated that level of consideration, after all, most of the other occupants in the building didn't even bother to acknowledge her, say hello or care to know her name when she arrived to go about her job. Mr. Brent himself was a rare exception and so was Paul Drake, the dashing detective frequently employed by Mr. Perry Mason. Entering the reception area now was like a well-rehearsed episode of her radio favorites: a welcoming distraction from her pleasant but uneventful life.
"Mrs. Cosgrove, is that you," Della Street's voice chirped from inside Perry Mason's private office. Her hair looked tousled from a distance, her face pretty as usual but slightly crumpled.
"Now honestly, Miss Street,"Holly Cosgrove sighed as the legal secretary met her halfway in her own office with a hearty smile."What are you doing here at this hour? It's past midnight."
"You have every right to scold me, Mrs. Cosgrove." Della grabbed her purse and fetched a briefcase from behind her desk. "Mr. Mason told me to go home a long time ago, I just thought I would get our inventory done tonight. Turns out I forgot the time. But I'll be out of your hair now in a jiffy, don't you worry."
"Is Mr. Mason not in with you?" Holly Cosgrove narrowed her eyes out of concern for the young woman who so obviously needed some rest after a long day at work.
"Mr. Mason is running some errands. He would scold me, too, if he still found me here, so I better go." The secretary rushed back into her boss' office, briefcase in hand, to collect some files and take them with her.
"How are you going to get home now, Miss Street? It's no time for a lady to hail a taxi. Some shady characters are out there making their rounds at this time of night." Mrs. Cosgrove shook her head. "Just take your time collecting your things while I polish everything to perfection and then we'll go together. What do you think?" Her smile was gently persistent. "I couldn't look Mr. Mason in the eye if anything happened to you, if you didn't get home all right."
"This is not the first time I've gone home after hours," Della tried to argue. "There's really no need for you to drive me, Mrs. Cosgrove." As the back door clunked shut, the secretary jumped.
"Oh yes, there is," Perry Mason's voice growled, his face serious, his eyes gentle. "Mrs. Cosgrove doesn't have to inconvenience herself however. It's my job to take you home at this hour, Miss Street." The attorney did not tolerate any protest from the two women standing in front of him. "But your offer is much appreciated, Mrs. Cosgrove. When given the opportunity, please remind me to reciprocate."
Holly Cosgrove nodded and quietly excused herself, suddenly overcome by the feeling of being in the way. The way the broad-shouldered man looked at his employee, the way they talked without using words, the intimacy of their smile - Mrs. Cosgrove couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something in the air other than the expected familiarity between a lawyer and his confidential secretary.
As Mrs. Cosgrove turned to leave, she noticed a novelty in the attorneys office, a large couch perfectly fitting into the corner between the plant that hid the entrance to his private back-room and the door leading to the outer office. Lying on the couch was a coat neatly folded to a pillow. Underneath it – and hidden to a layman's eye – traces of red lipstick. Holly Cosgrove paused. The folded coat, Miss Street's tousled hair, the lines on her face – it all made sense. But how did lipstick get on the fabric of Mr. Mason's brand-new couch? Miss Street certainly wasn't the careless type. Given the delicate color of the piece of furniture, the young woman wouldn't just rest her head on it without protection. Then for the glimpse of a second an unseemly thought crossed Mrs. Cossgrove's mind. No, she shook her head. Not Mr. Mason and Miss Street. They would never engage in misconduct, of that Holly Cosgrove was convinced, especially not at the office. Or would they the respectable lawyer and his reputable secretary? No, Mrs. Cosgrove decided. Miss Street would not allow to be taken advantage of like this. She was a classy lady who demanded respect. Although, Holly Cosgrove quietly admitted to herself, Mr. Mason sure knew how to win his cases, so who could blame Miss Street for caving in?
"I am telling you, Della, getting that couch was a mistake," Perry Mason remarked from inside his office bathroom, frustrated from fighting with his bow tie. "You're making a habit out of sleeping on it. I think I will have to return it."
"You can't," Della Street's voice sounded casually sweet, matching the nonchalance of her posture as she leaned against the door frame, smiling dreamily to herself. "I marked it with my lipstick the first night you demonstrated it's amenities to me. I'm sorry to say it's yours for the keeping."
"Did Mrs. Cosgrove ever ask you how that happened," the attorney pricked his ears.
"No, not explicitly." Absentminded, Della drew lines on the door with her fingers, marking it with illegible thoughts and letters, then chuckled like a schoolgirl. "But she did ask me how I was coping with the frequency of your female encounters."
"She must've confused me with Paul." Perry grinned, then grumbled, releasing a dissatisfied moan, "Oh, for crying out loud, Della!"
"What's eating you," his secretary jumped and pushed the bathroom door open. Behind it, Perry Mason stood in front of the mirror, his eyes darkened but clearing up the moment they met hers. Wiggling herself between the sink and his tuxedo-clad body, Della gave him a sensuous smile. "Let me fix this," she offered and tied a perfect knot for him with elegant fingers. "There, satisfied," she almost whispered, her hand resting on his chest now, a kiss tingling in the air.
"Only if you finally show me the dress you've been hiding from me all day," he teased her, the volume of his voice as low as hers, vibrating against her hand still glued to his chest. "I'm sure you'll look radiant in it."
"Save your compliments, counselor. I haven't even started fixing myself up yet." Della blinked her eyes and forced herself to pull away, then gently shoved him out of the tiny bathroom. "Out you go or I'll never be done in time."
"Can I have a peek," Perry Mason begged with a smile tender around the lips but with an ardent gleam in his eyes.
"Don't you dare," Della Street admonished him from inside, playful yet determined. "But you could get the garment bag from your closet and hand it to me if you were so kind."
"Why so formal, Miss Street," Perry laughed as he opened the doors to his crammed office closet.
"I'm just trying to behave accordingly, we are going to attend quite a formal dinner tonight, aren't we?"
"That depends on how long it will take me to pick the right garment bag for you without peeking," the attorney gasped. "How many of your backup clothes did I agree to harbor in my closet anyway? I cannot find a thing!"
"I just picked up a suit or two from the cleaners," Della admitted quietly. "And two day dresses." Opening the bathroom door in time to stifle a follow-up question, she continued with an innocent smile Perry had often seen her practice with smartmouth policemen or clients, "With the hours we keep, I need to be prepared for anything you have up your sleeve. Only last week we dashed off to Nevada without having much time to pack, don't you remember? You can't always buy new clothes for me like you did then. Not that I didn't like the dresses you picked but I'm your secretary, not a kept woman, nor do I wish to be."
Perry sighed. "So what you're telling me is that you need your own closet space for emergencies."
"More closet space in general," the secretary agreed. "After all, we have a couch now. It would be useful to stash up on pillows and blankets." Della batted her eyelashes. "And on bathroom supplies, you know, soaps, shampoo, towels, hair dryer..."
"A second toothbrush," Perry added.
"That I already have," Della Street said proudly.
"Of course you do," Perry Mason shook his head and reached out his hand. Pulling her close to him, he tilted her chin up with his finger, then looked deep into her sparkling eyes. Standing still for endless seconds, he finally whispered, "You have the master keys to the office, spare keys to my apartment, decided on the couch, you are driving my car and occupy a drawer in my desk while I have none in yours, now you are taking over my hideaway bathroom and emergency closet. I really wonder, Miss Street, who's the boss?"