AN - Hi all. This fic is going to be a series of one-shots, grouped together for ease of posting. Each chapter is a stand alone fic, based on a scene or moment from an episode. Each one (in my mind) is linked to a song or lyric, which will appear in italics.
Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review or message, I love hearing from people :) A x


202

Come on, come on
Move a little closer,
Come on, come on
I want to hear you whisper,
Come on, come on
Settle down inside my love.

(Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows)

They stood face to face, illuminated in the soft yellow glow of old fashioned street lamps, cold night air brushing past them.
"What d'you want to say Clive?"
He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and in that moment his phone trilled, a sharp ring shattering the quiet.
"Fuck, sorry," he looked at the screen, the same name flashed up as it had not thirty seconds before when he had ignored it.
"You should probably get that," she said, and he nodded, stopped the ringing and held the phone to his ear.
"Hi, George," he turned away from her, taking a couple of paces out of their pool of light.
For a moment Martha looked the other way, then back to him, and with a wry twist of her lips and shake of her head she tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat and started to walk up the cobbled street alone.

A few paces in a circle and he realised she had walked away; could see her, all in black, barely silhouetted against the dark night. He could hear words coming out the phone but they weren't registering with him, the voice on the other end was asking him something but he couldn't formulate a reply. Briefly he closed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, his mind not at all on the phone-call he was supposed to be partaking in.
"I, uh, sorry, I can't. Not tonight, I've got to go. Yeah, bye," his words were mumbled, unsure, as he stuttered out something into the phone, hung up and then shoved the item in his pocket.
He was striding up the hill then, briefcase swinging at his side, "Marth, Martha!"
She stopped, her slow steps hadn't taken her across the street yet, turned slightly to see him following her but made no other movement. He caught up to her, a pace past her so they were mimicking their original positions. Her eyes questioned him silently, an unspoken repetition of her earlier words, her question still unanswered.
"I think..." Clive paused, struggling for words; he could speak easily, words flowing, when he was in court talking for other people, "I think, I wanted to say..." he let out a huff of air, "Oh, fuck it..."
One fluid movement and his hand was curled around the back of her neck, his fingers threaded through her hair and his lips were against hers. Surprised, Martha was motionless for a second but then his kiss was insistent and so consuming that all she could do, all she wanted to do, was kiss him back. He was warm, pressed against her in the cold air and her own hands moved to hold him closer as he deepened the kiss.
Briefly they pulled apart, eyes fluttering open and their breath puffing out into the cold night. Blue eyes met blue as Clive held her gaze; watched hers close again as he drew impossibly nearer, dipping his head for another kiss. Stood in the dark, wrapped around each other, their mouths danced and they drank each other in.

The obnoxious sound of a car horn startled them both and pulled them out of their bubble. The black car slowed as it passed them and the figure inside raised a hand before speeding up and disappearing into the night.
"Who was that?"
Clive shrugged, "No idea. Doesn't matter".
His arm was still around her and he slid it up to wrap around her shoulders, pressed a kiss to her temple and slowly they turned to continue their way up Shoe Lane.
They reached the top of the road and came to a halt; both slightly uncertain of whether they were turning left towards the pub or right towards the tube station, together or alone. Clive glanced at her, and under his gaze she bit her lip, "Me too," she spoke softly.
He frowned, unsure of her meaning, and she said "I think, I wanted...", smiling as she borrowed his earlier words.
The arm around her reflexively tightened as he understood what neither of them were saying aloud yet.
"I've got wine at home," he offered; an invitation, a veiled question and he was almost afraid to hear her answer.
Her nod was sharp, decisive, and if he was surprised at how readily she agreed it didn't show on his face. He kept glancing across at her as they continued walking, his arm still holding her against his side, and she caught his eyes, "What?"
He shook his head with a smile, looking as though he was keeping, or possibly sharing, a secret "Nothing".
Martha raised one eyebrow at Clive, lips quirking up to smile with him, "Yeah, ok".