Disclaimer: I don't own them, Dick Wolf does…but I can dream! I just borrow them for a while.
Title: All About Her.
Rating: T
Ch1. Best Laid Plans
Saturday night was going to be all about her. It had struck Bobby that no-one expected Eames to have a social life. And they damn well didn't expect him to do anything remotely sociable.
He imagined his colleagues believed they both lived to work. It was time to shift the balance and alter some perceptions. Mainly her perceptions.
The trick, he knew, was all in how he positioned his idea with her. Eames was smart…and dangerous when provoked. And a sure fire way to provoke a reaction you didn't want was to give even the slightest impression that you were doing her a favour or showing some empathy. God forbid you would go as far as sympathy…Tough cookies don't take kindly to sympathy and those who come from a family of tough cookie cops even less.
Yeah, a careful pitch was required. A unique proposition. And it couldn't sound like a pity date. Or a date at all, come to think of it. Otherwise Eames wouldn't be intrigued enough to take him up on the offer.
Bobby leaned back in his chair to think, assuming the position familiar to those around him in the bullpen. Detective Robert Goren in full thinking mode. Chair back parallel to the floor, eyes scrunched closed and chin pointing to the ceiling. One of these days, his chair's surely bound to give but, for today at least, it holds him securely and comfortably.
Thinking gives way to picturing and picturing becomes a full on fantasy…he could see them together, in his head, hear their conversation, watch their interaction…and it helped him formulate his plan.
Eames needed to believe she was rescuing him. Not the other way round. Supporting her partner was big on her agenda. Loyalty and friendship was very important to her. So long as he could convince her that an evening with her was what he needed, to get him out of some sort of difficult or embarrassing situation of course, Bobby was sure she'd agree.
He knew the common perception of him was of a slightly socially inept adolescent when it came to relationships with the opposite sex. He knew they all thought – Eames included – that he was too nice to say "No" when it came women – something he admitted he found hard to do. And he also knew they thought he was some kind of lothario, given the number of women from 1PP he'd dated. Bobby Goren was a bit of a contradiction in dating terms.
Eames knew he'd rather say "Yes" and suffer the consequences than let a date down. For that reason, she'd believe he needed rescuing.
It was a relatively simple ruse. He'd convince her that she needed to bail him out and be his 'date' for the evening, just so he could let some other poor female down gently, without having to say he really wasn't interested and possibly hurt the girl's feelings. He was sure she'd go for it.
Now to plan the 'date'. Eames needed to let go of the tough cookie image and enjoy being a woman for once. He wanted her to feel like the belle of the ball…just like Cinderella. A chance to show her feminine side.
What does every girl dream of for the perfect date?
That's it! Prom Night! He needed to recreate every teenage girl's fantasy. A girl never forgets the perfect prom night or her perfect date.
Bobby wasn't sure what her actual Prom had been like. Ever competitive and an high achiever from an early age, he recalled she once told him she'd been Prom Queen – just to prove to her brothers she could be a girl if she wanted, rather than the tomboy who competed with them at everything.
He started planning how to give Eames the full prom night experience. He wanted it all… just for her. He knew the perfect place to take her. The most exclusive in all of the five boroughs, elegant rather than schmaltzy – money was no object for this evening and he knew she would appreciate it. It had to be exquisite food of course and somewhere he hadn't taken any one else. He didn't want Eames to be making any comparisons between this and any of his other dates.
Reverting back to vertical, he scanned the bullpen. Good, the Captain was out of the office. Eames at the DA's office with Carver, giving a deposition on a recent case. The rest of the detectives busy with their own things… Looks like the coast would be clear for at least an hour.
Stretching across to Eames' desk, he snagged her laptop. Contrary to popular belief he could use a computer. He just didn't. Like driving, it was an Eames thing. Complimentary skills, they called it.
Googling he could cope with. Venue first, he thought. Typing quickly he tried 'Most romantic restaurants in New York'…scanning the options presented to him, Bobby clicked on different restaurant names, looking for the one which matched the picture he had in his head.
Soft lighting, table for two, discreet service, cuisine to die for and a tantalising wine list – ahh…there, a picture..clicking twice quickly on the image..it was perfect. And he had a few strings he could pull to get them the perfect table, at the perfect time with perfect service. Hard to do at 8.30 on a Saturday - date night! Sometimes it paid to be part of the Major Case Squad's Golden Couple. And for once, Bobby wasn't averse to taking advantage of the fact.
Now for the car. It had to be fantastic, vintage or classic of course, to show her how much he valued her, something a car buff like Eames would really appreciate. Of course – a Ferrari! He recalled the indulgent look she'd given him when he'd behaved like a little boy in that cherry red 1962 Ferrari GTO. What was it she said? Oh, yeah. "You have to come out now" – playful Eames, a side of her he hoped to see more of.
There probably wasn't a chance in hell of getting hold of one, since they're one of the most sought after Ferrari's ever. So few were made! Lewis, however, must know where he could beg, borrow or steal (not literally of course!) something sleek and sexy to pick her up in. Check item number two off the list! Bobby didn't even mind driving. It would give him the chance to chauffeur her for a change, without being challenged for the keys. Eames would just have to endure his driving for one evening.
Looking up at the clock on the wall, he judged he had around twenty minutes left to finish his planning. No prom night could be complete without the corsage, someone taking a photo portrait of the two of them, a knock 'em dead dress and slow dancing. He had work to do yet to give Eames the perfect night. And he still had to figure out how to invite her.
The corsage was easy. He remembered she liked roses and knew the name of the florists she used for family birthdays and other occasions. Traditional with a twist, he thought. Miniature tea roses, Autumn Sunblaze, a glorious deep orange with a delicate fragrance. The colour was a nice change from traditional red. Twisted into a wrist corsage with a little greenery… Bobby was sure to ask the florist to make sure all the thorns were removed. He didn't want anything marring her perfect skin. Another item checked on his mental list.
The photograph was a tricky one. It couldn't appear contrived or she wouldn't go for it. Maybe he could set something up with the restaurant so that it appeared they were offering instant portraits for couples wanting a permanent record of their special occasion? Yeah, that would work. A discreet offer by the restaurant, perhaps? With the photographer in a side room set up just for the purpose and able to produce the prints there and then. Bobby was happy to hire a photographer just for the evening, and to the benefit of other couples at the restaurant, if it would get him a picture of the two of them together.
A formal picture to replace the tiny Polaroid, the one he'd snapped at that restaurant where he and Eames had gone to question someone. He'd had it a while now and it was getting kind of dog-eared. He'd bet Eames had even forgotten he'd taken it. He kind of liked having a reminder of their partnership and friendship around, for those moments when he needs to remember who it is that keeps him grounded and sane. He thought she might like one too.
So where was he up to…oops, time's nearly up, he thought. Restaurant, Car, Corsage, Photograph – all arranged. He was down to the last two items on his list. The killer dress – with accessories of course! And somewhere to dance – you can't have a prom without dancing.
The dress was easy. Bobby could picture her in a cobalt blue – a colour he knew suited her. Something fitted, knee-length and sophisticated. Something very Eames-like to show off her perfect body, and set off her blond hair. He knew the perfect place to send her.
He'd arrange for a car to pick her up on Saturday afternoon and whisk her off to one of the fancy day spa's – manicure, pedicure – the works. He knew that she'd appreciate the pamper session. He'd tell her it was a reward for being a) a New York Cop covering all five boroughs and b) being the perfect partner for putting up with him. After the afternoon at the Spa, the car would pick her up again and whisk her off to Bloomingdale's. Where a personal shopper would help her find the perfect dress for the evening – with his careful instructions, of course, and his credit card!
Finally, the last item on his list. Dancing. Bobby loved to dance. His mother had taught him well. He'd quickly gotten over his initial embarrassment as a boy when he realised he loved it and he was good at it. And it got him attention from girls! Quite a revelation for a gangling youth. He'd always been tall and a little disjointed in his movements but somehow, he became graceful on the dance floor.
He needed an intimate dance club with just the right vibe. A venue where they knew the importance of the right music and the ritual of the slow dance – the highlight of any girls' Prom night. And a club which kept late hours – he didn't want to rush dinner or the dancing. He knew an old fashioned place, casually elegant, where he wouldn't feel out of place in the tuxedo he was planning to wear. He'd never danced there, but he knew Deakins had taken his wife there a few times, saying it was one of the last romantic dance haunts left in New York – a remnant of a bygone age.
Turning his head, he tilted to one side, listening carefully. He heard the distinctive sound of Eames' voice coming from the direction of the lift. Quickly, he cleared the evidence of his computer research from her laptop, sliding it across to her side of the desk again.
His mental tick list complete, Bobby sat back down, engrossing himself in the case file on his desk, trying hard to hide his air of anticipation and excitement at the thought of his plans. Didn't want to give the game away too early.
Besides, he still had to figure out how to invite her in a way she would accept.
Smiling innocently (he hoped!), he turned to Eames as she approached. "Coffee?" he asked, brightly, waving her favourite coffee mug gently at her.
Author Note: I'm new to this, so reviews are appreciated. Please be gentle with me! More chapters to follow...