I have a feeling I'm going to have a distinct lack of reviews for this, on account of the fact that I don't think any of my usual readers will have seen Dempsey and Makepeace xD Though if you've got this far, I'd like to reassure you that you don't really have to have seen it to understand this. (though it may make more sense…)

(By the way, if you haven't seen it, there's not 4 people in this, just the 2. It's Harry Makepeace and James Dempsey. Oh, and they're both cops.)

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Makepeace glared at Dempsey over the top of the cup of coffee he had just brought her (meant to placate her, she suspected), as she prepared to repeat yet again their most frequent argument.

"Dempsey, when are you going to get it into your head that half the work of a case is behind a desk?"

"Alright, alright, so you do the half in here and I'll do the half out there."

This only served to frustrate her further and she stood up, putting the coffee cup down, forgotten, on the desk. "In the whole time you've been here, you've not finished a single bit of paperwork! You always leave it to me. And you know the worst bit - I always let you!"

"Hey, Harry, calm down," he soothed her.

"Oh, 'calm down', you say, you have no intention of helping me though, do you? You're just going to swan off to some pub, pick up some girl and - and -" She broke off, too incensed to think of any words. She knew she was angry about something else too, but there was no way she was admitting it - especially to him. The fact was that the only reason she was here having this argument with him instead of settling down at home for a relaxing night of museum work with a glass of wine was the memory of him at that very museum - actually begging her to come back. The sight of him leaving himself so vulnerable to her had prompted her to wonder if maybe he did feel more than he showed for her. 'I need you', he had said. Needed her to do his paperwork, maybe.

She blinked and remembered that he was stood in front of her looking slightly expectant to hear the end of her sentence. Dempsey, actually waiting for her to finish her argument? Unprecedented, she decided. Realising that sometime down the line she had forgotten to be angry with him, she redoubled her scowl. "While I'm here doing your work," she finished.

Dempsey struggled for a moment against his instinctual response before it slipped out of him. "Sounds like a good night to me." He knew before the words left his mouth - hell, he knew before they had even formed in his brain - that it was the wrong thing to say, but it could not be unsaid now. All he could do was stand and listen to Harry hurl insults and curses at him. He couldn't really be bothered to argue: he knew that eventually she would cave and he would be off the hook. He felt a little bit guilty for leaving her to it every time, but, God, he hated deskwork.

Dimly he registered that she was ranting something about going back to the museum after all and suddenly realised that this was a lot more serious - and deeper - than he had thought. He found himself suddenly grateful that it was late and the office was empty; he had a feeling that this conversation was headed somewhere uncomfortable and he didn't much want spectators.

"Are you even listening, Dempsey?" Harry's frustrated tone cut through his thoughts.

"Sure, you think I'm an immature and irresponsible American and I should go find a really interesting way to kill myself," he repeated.

"Well make sure it's a very pain -" Her words were stopped by his lips on hers for just a second. Her words switched from monsoon to drought in an instant as she froze, her mouth still forming 'painful'.

"What was that?" she asked, and Dempsey saw genuine confusion in her frown. It had confused him - he hadn't realised he was going to do it.

"That, Harry, was a kiss, you ever heard of one?" He hoped the quip covered his concern.

Apparently it did, all too well, because her frown slipped into a scowl as she grabbed her bag, intending to leave. She was sick of his jokes, sick of the situation. "Damn you, Dempsey," she spat. "Go and crawl back under your rock." She was about to storm out when she felt a hand on her wrist - not restraining her, barely even touching her; nevertheless, the contact was there and she wasn't sure what to make of it. Her anger faded, dissipating further with his next words.

"Don't go, Harry," he said quietly.

He looked so open in that moment that she had to remind herself she was supposed to be angry with him, injecting a half-hearted sting into the words, "Why-ever not?"

"Because I wasn't kiddin' or jokin' around in that museum. I need you." The words tasted good after such a long time hidden away inside, so he said them again, unconsciously moving closer to her. "I need you."

Harry looked down at their interlocked fingers and wondered whether she had taken his hand or he had taken hers. James misinterpreted it as her avoiding his eyes and let go of her hand.

"Ya know, rejection is much easier to take when you're drunk out of your skull," he observed, sitting down behind the desk. He pulled a pile of paper towards him at random. He didn't want to work but leaving now would look like he was running away. Plus, they were going to have to find a way to work together now that - unless she went back to the museum. He went cold and looked up at her in alarm, only to find her standing directly beside him. He watched her perch on the arm of the chair and put her arm around him.

"You're an idiot, James," she said fondly.

"Oh, yeah? How d'you work that out?" he asked defensively.

Harry smiled down at him, looking amused. "At no point did I reject you. And yet you were jumping to conclusions. You are always lecturing people about it and here you are, doing it yourself." She leaned down and kissed him gently.

James smiled. "I'll have to sack myself," he replied, admitting in a round-about way that she was right.

Harry yawned and looked at her watch. "It's 11 o'clock. We should go to bed."

He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Harry rolled her eyes. "You in your bed and me in mine," she clarified firmly.

James pulled her into a slow kiss. "I'll soon change your mind," he promised.

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Hurrah!

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