'Cause you remind me of you
When you shot through
And broke my window glass
It happened so fast
I have to confess
I was impressed
Yeah, I was impressed
Despite all the mess and the broken glass
I was impressed

—

Sharon's heart beats thick in her throat.

She holds a tube of lipstick in each hand.

She stares at them as if they might address the whirlpool swirling through her head.

At the center, spinning everything else downward, sits one concept:

What the hell am I doing?

To get here, she'd made it past the trip to Nordstrom for a dress, with the ever-practical reasoning that a visit to a trendy, romantic restaurant required a certain kind of frock...one that didn't already live in her closet.

She'd made it past explaining her evening plans to Rusty with nonchalant ease. He'd shrugged and grinned and said he'd grab In-N-Out for dinner.

She'd made it past brushing on a dinner-appropriate smoky eye and slipping in contacts and twisting her hair into an evening updo, with a few "effortless" tendrils left loose to frame her face.

She made it past sliding on sapphire teardrop earrings and a matching necklace. She made it past zipping up her new close-cut navy silk dress, with its intricate pattern of seams hugging her waist and its v-neck dipping just low enough to distinguish it from office attire. She even made it past spritzing on her special occasion Coco Noir and stepping into her wholly impractical burgundy peep toe stilettos.

No, she made it to the final of finishing touches, pulling several shades of lipstick from their organizer, weighing which choice was best. She was just fine until she narrowed to two options, held the contenders before her, and found herself wondering which one Andy would prefer.

Because she's going on a date. With him. To a romantic new restaurant. An undoubtedly pricy new restaurant. It's a gesture. It's a message.

Sharon sinks onto the bench at the foot of her bed, still gripping a plastic tube in each hand. Certainty hits her like a brick. She should've turned down his offer.

What the hell was I thinking?

Andy is her subordinate, for God's sake. It might not be against the rules, but picking up a relationship with him — a real, reservations-at-a-new-romantic-spot relationship — is a spectacularly illogical idea. It pulls the weight of their careers along with it, not to mention the attention of at least four other officers. Plus the attention of her boss. And probably her boss's boss.

All of them, bracing against the possibility that this... whatever could crash and burn.

No pressure.

She should've said 'no.' She should've told him, then and there, that it's a terrible idea. It's against all odds, against their past experiences, against common sense. They've navigated, somehow, into a friendship. A close, deep, understanding friendship. A friendship she hates to jeopardize.

Might it be greedy, pushing too far, to try for something more?

On now less steady feet, Sharon returns to her vanity. She replaces the lipsticks into their holder. Following a deep, cleansing breath, she stares into her own eyes. What she finds is a version of herself she hasn't seen in years — a narrow facet of her being, where self-indulgence and snappy impulses reign, where living for the moment outweighs most everything else. That's where she was when her life veered off course, decades ago. It's where she was when she told Andy 'Fine' last night.

She shakes her head. You should've said no, lady. You should've set him right, let him down easy, made an excuse or five, brought it to an end before it can come crashing to a halt.

Even if he was almost unbearably adorable, laughing at his own prison joke.

But…

Then again…

Should she have taken that route, even if his obvious nerves left her charmed beyond any recent comparison? The memory leaves the corners of her mouth lifting. He views the situation as seriously as she does. This wasn't a throwaway invitation. He knew the stakes.

And it isn't as if he doesn't know her past. She's told him more about her marriage than she's told anyone beyond her family. And that was without any prying on his part, no matter how much he may have been tempted. It all just kind of...came up, as they've grown closer.

It's all come up, in their hours and hours of conversations. Easy, flowing talks that cover the spectrum from punchy banter to near-buried history. With Andy, she's never felt the need to hold back. After all, he's described to her his addiction, his strained bonds with his kids, the neverending climb from the hole he believes he dug for himself. He's an open book. She's tried to be the same. It wasn't as hard as she'd expected.

From the bedroom, Sharon's phone buzzes. Once, then twice. A cut of panic follows the sound and sets off a different flow of worry.

What if we just caught a case?

What if he changed his mind?

Isn't that what I just wanted?

Won't he just change his mind eventually, anyway? Just like everyone else? Only, now, in front of our whole squad? The entire department?

It's this last that lingers, stubbornly, as she finds Andy's name on the screen. She swipes into the device, swallowing past a different kind of pressure in her throat as she taps to open his texts.

Hey, traffic on the 405 was a mess. Might not make it by 7. Didn't want you to worry.

Sharon finds herself grinning as she scrolls down.

I'm really looking forward to dinner and hate to be late. But I figured you'd be mad if I went Code 3 just to get there on time.

His joke, by itself, isn't all that funny. But its familiarity — he's forever threatening to go lights-and-sirens for any number of trivial reasons — combined with his easy reassurance and the internal argument she's just had over him leaves her doubled over, laughing. She laughs until her face aches and tears escape her eyes. She giggles through tapping out a response — Not a problem. Drive SAFELY. I'm not going anywhere. — and bursts into another round of full-throated laughter as soon as it's gone.

She's ridiculous. And maybe that's okay. Ridiculous is light. Ridiculous is unburdened. Maybe she can be in an overall ridiculous relationship with Andy and still end up okay, too.

Having wiped off half her makeup, Sharon returns to her vanity for a reapplication. She re-ups the smokiness and darkens her liner and adds an extra coat of mascara.

A knock sounds at her bedroom door just as she finishes repairing the damage wrought by her laughing fit.

"Oh Sharon," Rusty's voice curls on a goading note. "You have a visitor."

"I'll be right out," she calls.

She can't hold in her smile as she gives herself a final once-over in the mirror. This is where she was when she said "Fine." It's a good place. She could get used to it.

For the final touch, she reaches for a lipstick the shade of a candy apple.

It's always had a way of capturing Andy's attention.

A/N: This idea came to me, quite literally, as I was driving home from work the other day. I have no idea where it came from, but it was a quick, contained break from "Resilient," so I went for it.

There might be another chapter to this, coming from the other half of the equation...