-1Title:The Policeman's Ball
Pairing:Grace/Boyd
Rating:PG
Summary:His little black book had effectively dried up
Spoilers:Nothing specific but up to and including Series six to be Notes:Spending all day blistering medication your mind wanders and this is what you get. Something a little lighter than Clarity and Salvation.
The Policeman's Ball
Chapter One
Peter Boyd hated formal functions, actually parties in general, and anywhere where he had to dress up. When he actually escaped from work for an evening he preferred to throw on a pair of jeans and watch the Discovery Channel, but in this instance he had no choice but to attend. The Chief Constable had basically told him so.
That left him with one dilemma. The invitation had said 'And guest' so instead of heading home he was sitting in his office pondering who to take. His little black book, and he wondered what Grace would make of his referring to the few women he had dated as that, had effectively dried up, most of them now married to someone else, his job putting pay to any social life.
He had to take someone. The last thing he really wanted was to spend the evening stuck talking to former colleagues he disliked or hiding in a corner getting drunk on over priced scotch. The one person he had considered inviting was Grace, she was the practically the only female friend he hadn't driven away and he actually enjoyed spending time with her outside of work. He just wasn't sure how to ask her.
A knock at the door disrupted his thoughts and he looked up at she entered and casually dropped on to his couch.
"Penny for them!"
"Policeman's Ball," he offered by way of explanation, waving the invitation in the air.
"Trying to come up with an excuse not to go again?" They had worked together for nearly eight years and every year he had declined to go, every year he had been creative enough to come up with a different excuse.
"Apparently it's not optional," Boyd sighed.
Grace grinned. "Well that's just asking for trouble."
"What? You think I can't behave myself for a few hours?"
She pretended to ponder it for a few moments. "Can you?"
"I'm going to look a bit stupid reciting the Tempest all night."
"Preferable to you shouting at the chief Constable," Grace stated matter-of-factly.
"You could come and save me from myself," he said candidly.
"I'm washing my hair that night."
"We both know you do that in the morning." It amused him that he knew that little detail about her.
Grace rolled her eyes. "You're asking me to be your date?"
"Technically it won't be a date. I mean there won't be se. . . Yeah, I guess I am."
She stared at him, debating whether or not to call his bluff. "Ok, but it takes more than a few drinks to get me back for a nightcap."
"Damn and I thought all it took was a decent bottle of Merlot."
Grace picked up the nearest thing to hand, his Evening Standard, and threw it at him. It sailed past his head, landing fragmented on the floor.
"Two bottles?" he asked cheekily, swiftly positioning his chair closer to the window as she rose to her feet.
"Night, Boyd," she said, shaking her head at him.
"Goodnight, Grace." He watched her return to her office, suddenly feeling less stressed than he had in weeks.