A/N

Here, have some Theresa/Bernard H/C fluff. ^^

"You know those things are gonna kill you," Bernard said as he lit Theresa's cigarette for her.

"Considering how much my head is aching at the moment, they'd better do it quick and put me out of my misery," she said. "One day or the other, I'm going to fucking lose it."

"Lee?" The question mark was almost straight. Of course it was Lee. Everyone in the building had heard the shouting match earlier today, or at least Lee's side of it. Theresa's part in the conversation had likely been twice as venomous, but half as loud.

"Mr Sizemore and I have certain creative disagreements. He's creative, I disagree." She shook her head and inhaled a lungful of smoke, slowly exhaling it through her nostrils. The effect of this made her look like she was about to start breathing fire. Bernard didn't doubt that she would if she could.

"He's still going on about that 'savage horde'. I still think twenty hosts are more than enough. He insists on fifty. Says the narrative won't be convincing enough otherwise. But if we retire those hosts, he's going to whine about the mayhem it will cause his other storylines instead."

She ran a hand through her hair.

"I might be a bit late to our 'meeting' tonight. I have to sort this fucking mess out with him."

"No rush. I'll have the wine poured and ready for you."

She smiled. It was her first smile today, and it made everything feel better. Bernard had that impact on her. However frustrated and exhausted she was right now, knowing that she'd spend the night in his bed made everything bearable.

"Good. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She put out the cigarette and walked past him. He knew they weren't supposed to show any attachment in public, but she looked like she needed some encouragement, so he gave her upper arm a light caress as she walked by. She didn't look at him, didn't respond to it, but as she kept walking, her own hand wandered to that very spot as if holding on to his touch.

I love you, Theresa, he thought. I don't know if I'll ever say those words out loud, but I do.

When she finally knocked on his door, it was close to midnight.

"Hello beautiful," he said.

"Liar," she replied, stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "If I only look half as awful as I feel, beautiful isn't…"

Bernard interrupted her with a soft, gentle kiss, and Theresa closed her eyes and focused her entire being into the warmth of his affection. When he slowly broke off the kiss, she felt dizzy and hot, and her cheeks flushed.

"Wow," she managed to say. "That was some kiss."

"You're still beautiful to me, Tess," he said earnestly. "I hope the kiss proved that."

"It was certainly convincing," she said and smiled. It was a weak smile, but honest enough.

"Good." He took the wine glasses from the counter and handed one to her. She took a sip, and he could almost see the tension falling off her. What was beneath was a very, very tired head of the QA, who would likely fall asleep before the wine was even finished. In fact, she already appeared to have problems keeping her eyes open.

He put an arm around her waist and began escorting her to the bedroom.

"I hope you're not expecting too much fireworks, Bernie…" she mumbled. "I might disappoint in that department tonight."

"No fireworks tonight at all," he promised her. "Go lie down. I'll be right back."

Theresa stepped out of her clothes and climbed into bed, and had just gotten comfortable when he returned, with a bottle of luxurious massage oil.

"You spoil me," she said, but the gratitude in her voice was so great it was nearly laced with tears.

"And I enjoy it," he replied, carefully sweeping her hair out of the way before rubbing some of the oil into his hands and placing them on her back. "Are my hands too cold?"

"No. It feels wonderful. Oh God..."

He chuckled.

"That 'oh God' sounded just like the one I usually hear in this bed. But I'm normally not massaging your back then."

"Mmm… you are a man of many talents, Bernie," she murmured, her voice turning more and more into a satisfied purr. She began saying something else, but trailed off, and he wasn't surprised when he heard a light snore. He kept kneading her back and neck, and she weaved in and out of a content slumber underneath his touch. It didn't matter if she was awake or asleep, she felt just as safe and loved in either place.

At some unknown point in time, he stopped, lay down next to her, and pulled her into his arms. Theresa wormed closer into the embrace, still asleep, and sighed, an uncharacteristically cute, almost kitten-like sound of total gratification.

The sheets would be stained with oil tomorrow, but who cared? At least he had gotten to show Theresa Cullen how much he loved her, even if he couldn't say it.