Sammy and Ilna thanks again for the love and friendship that brightens my life.

REALMcRollers and Readers, you're always making us smile and warming our hearts with your beautiful reviews and messages. So many of you share tidbits of your own lives with us and we love every word. Thank you.

Some of the memories in this story reflect Sammy's masterpieces, so thanks again, Sammy.

Without Being Told

Saturday 10:30 p.m.

Catherine rolled toward the doorway and opened her eyes to the sound of Steve's boots on the stairs followed by the soft tap tap tap of Cammie's nails on the hardwood floor.

She slid out of bed and met him two steps into the room. "Hey, you."

A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. "Cath, you didn't wait…"

"Up?" She finished his sentence as he gathered her into a hug and shook her head. "I woke up when Cammie got up to meet you."

"Hmm, good. You need to sleep after last night."

Angie had woken them several times with some new tooth fussing until they gave her Tylenol drops at one thirty. They'd just fallen asleep about two a.m. when Steve got called out, which was … he glanced at his watch. Twenty hours ago. He ran his hands through Catherine's hair before cupping her cheek to kiss her.

They stood for a full minute wrapped in each other's arms, swaying slightly until he hummed and broke the kiss. "Hmm, love you."

"Love you," she stated softly, running her thumb over a tiny scrape on his cheekbone. She could feel his exhaustion in the set of his shoulders and taste his mood in the quality of his kiss. "Long day."

He held her for a few more heartbeats, breathing in the scent of her hair before pulling back further to look in her eyes.

"It started off standing over a dead Supreme Court Justice from New Mexico and his wife and ended standing waist deep in a flooded-out mass grave." He placed his forehead against hers. "Definitely long."

She lifted her brow in question. "How many more victims?"

He ran a hand behind his neck. "None, actually. Max says our vics were inadvertently buried on an existing burial site, so it's just the two. The site's a couple hundred years old. All the rain lately unearthed a lot of the bones and when the killer dug to bury Justice and Mrs. Walpack, he weakened a small retaining wall that was half rotted and they just … spilled into a gully." He shook his head. "But actually, we wrapped. We tracked the guy to a room at the Hilton. He embezzled from Janet Walpack's company and knew the forensic accounts were closing in. He followed her here, surprised them both and shot them execution style."

Catherine shook her head in sympathy.

"Anyway, like I said, we wrapped. The historical society's dealing with restoring the original burial site as soon as Max's guys are done. I'm sure you're gonna hear about it Monday."

She reached up and pecked his lips. "I'm sure we will." She waved a hand indicating his clothes. They were damp, confirming her assumption he'd hosed off the mud from the gully hours before and when they called it a night, headed right home instead of stopping at HQ to clean up. "Grab a shower, there's pizza if you want." A little smile graced her lips. "Angie's idea."

His eyes sparked at the baby's name. "I'm good," he said with a grateful smile, knowing she'd ordered the pizza in case he arrived home starving. "But thanks. HPD set up a trailer to secure the site." He pulled off his shirt. "They ordered sandwiches from Jirou this morning, and you know him; since it looked like a long one, he brought another ton of food around …" the smile morphed to a grin. "Hour seventeen." He tossed the button down and t-shirt in the hamper. "So I ate twice."

Sitting on the corner of the mattress he unlaced his boots and toed them off. Cargoes and boxers were added to the hamper as he said, "be out in five," over his shoulder from the doorway.

True to his word, in just under five minutes, Steve exited the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips. He rubbed his hair vigorously with a second that was draped around his neck. Grabbing a pair of boxers, he donned them quickly.

Discarding the towels just as Cammie stood, stretched and walked to the bedroom door, he joined her, asking, "You need a trip outside or are you just making sure I'll be quiet enough?"

A tiny whine of agreement had Catherine saying, "She peed an hour ago. She's just escorting you, right sweetie?"

With a ruffle of dog's fur and pat to her shoulder, Steve padded to Angie's room as Catherine slid off the bed and listened to his voice over the monitor with a tiny grin. "I just wanna see her, I won't wake her up," his explanation to the dog came over the speaker before he fell silent. Five minutes later a whispered, "Love you, Angie. I'm sorry I missed bedtime, we'll do extra stories tomorrow," reaching her ears set a tiny flutter of butterflies off in her tummy as she retook her place under the light cover.

Cammie preceded him into the master bedroom and curled up on her bed with a sigh as Steve crawled in beside Catherine. He grinned as the sheet fell from her shoulder, revealing she'd removed her tank top, and the hand he slid down her back to her butt told him the sleep shorts had joined her top on the bedside chair.

Seeing his tired eyes darken even in the dim light, she shrugged with a grin of her own. "Figured you're pretty exhausted so … she moved into his arms and ran her fingers through the hair at his temple. "Expediency."

His retort, had his tired brain be able to form one, would have been swallowed up as he rolled her under his body.

As a wave of gratitude for every moment she'd been in his life washed through his mind, he felt her press up against him, their bodies in perfect sync. With a low moan, Steve erased every ugly nuance of the day with Catherine's touch and passionate kiss.

Shifting to his left as she sighed in her sleep and snuggled deeper into her pillow, Steve traced Catherine's cheek and pushed a stray lock of hair off her face. Intending to sleep himself - he was surprised when she drifted off before he did - he found himself running a finger over her shoulder, down her arm to her elbow and stopping when he reached her hip.

It was a gesture he used to repeat far more often.

Once, after they'd been settled together and she'd reserved her commission, she'd woken and asked him about it. In response to her barely awake, 'what cha doing'', he had coined the term 'memorizing Catherine' and admitted he was creating a tactile memory.

He'd done it many times but never wanted to sadden her with why, so if she'd woken he'd either distracted her with kisses that would lead to a firestorm of passion or changed the subject to a happier one.

Truth be told, it was because he needed her - not only emblazoned in his mind, but also on his fingertips - to sustain him during their duties apart. By the time he told her why, all those years later, it was because there was no sadness to distract her from. By that point he knew they wouldn't have to be apart.

Ever.

A smile graced his lips at the thought. Except for reserves duty or the occasional all-nighter on a case like last night, they hadn't slept apart more than a handful of times in ages.

Catherine beside him every day, and night, was exactly what he'd longed for but never dared voice all those years ago for fear of … 'what?' He thought. Having it ripped away, probably.

As close as he'd come to voicing it back then was his thinly veiled teasing her by saying if they could stay in one place they could spend endless hours in bed.

As usual, Catherine had smirked and played along. Quipping back, 'only if we arranged food delivery, Commander, 'cause you'd need to keep your … strength up,' as her eyes roamed over his naked body.

A tiny sigh brought his attention back to the present. He grinned and took a deep breath. When she looked so relaxed, it always made him better able to shake off the day and its stresses. Steve slid closer and she shifted to move against him. Snaking an arm across his torso and pressing her cheek to his shoulder as if on autopilot.

He bent slightly to kiss the top of her head and she murmured, "You 'kay?"

"I'm good." He whispered. "Because of you. Sleep, Cath. Sorry I woke you."

"N't 'wake," her reply was muffled against his skin and a memory surfaced.

Followed by another.

And another.

Catherine meeting him after a mission that went to hell in Bogotá; her beautiful face smiling up at him saying, 'not your fault, Steve,' after he felt like hell after her man-o-war sting in Bermuda; her comforting Angie who was screaming and afraid of the loud toilet in their bathroom. Catherine knowing exactly when he needed to talk after a situation versus simply offering the love and physical comfort he so desperately needed but couldn't summon the words to explain.

She knew. She'd always known. Including tonight when behind the saucy grin and 'expedient' comment was the most understanding person he'd ever encountered. She'd known he was so tired from twenty hours on a case, a long romp wasn't on the agenda, yet she knew how much he needed her just the same.

He shook his head slightly as he gazed down at her hair spilling across his torso, her hand resting over his heart and the curve of her cheek against his skin.

Catherine blinked at him sleepily and shifted. "Timeszit?"

"Midnight." He gently squeezed her shoulder. "And we can sleep in tomorrow."

"Hmmm good. How about if after Angie and Cammie eat breakfast, we come to bed til lunch." She yawned, more asleep than awake, and was out again in seconds.

Knowing she couldn't hear his response, he spoke aloud anyway. "Sounds perfect." With a final kiss to her temple, he moved lower on the pillow and sighed, "You always know."

And she did, he marveled for the thousandth time. Whether she was soothing his soul or suggesting an everyday adventure, Catherine always knew.

Without being told.

What to do, what to say, and exactly where they were always meant to be.

# End thanks for reading

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