A/N: Written by Katrina. This is my first Baxley fic so hopefully it's alright!
This is useless, Molesley thinks as he trudges out of yet another pub. Their latest suspect claims that he was out drinking throughout the evening and night of the murder, so he definitely couldn't have done it. Molesley's inclined to believe him: Mr Bates doesn't seem the sort of person to be responsible for such a heinous act, but unfortunately, in order to prove the man's claim correct, Molesley has to traipse into every pub, bar, or other drinking establishment in York.
Not only that, but his DCI had deemed that this work was 'not vital' to the case, seemingly content to allow a potentially innocent man to be convicted, and leaving Molesley with a rather heroic amount of paperwork to fill his work days with. Therefore, Molesley has decided to follow up this lead on his weekends and days off. He can only hope that Mr Bates will appreciate this effort to clear his name.
He's so distracted by his thoughts that he doesn't notice the person right in front of him on the pavement as he steps out of the door and into the bitterly cold wind, bumping straight into the huddled figure. Molesley looks up, a litany of apologies ready to spring from his tongue.
"Sergeant Baxter!" he exclaims in surprise. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there." He wrings his hands nervously.
Baxter gives him a gentle smile. "That's quite alright DC Molesley," she says, putting a slight emphasis on the title, in gentle reprimand for his use of hers. After all, it is a weekend.
"What are you doing here?" Molesley asks, confused. In a flash he realises that he probably sounded impolite, but before he can stutter much of an apology, Baxter cuts him off, waving his apology away with yet another gentle smile. She smiles a lot more around Molesley than anyone else in their team, he's noticed - not that he spends all his time watching her, obviously, but she definitely draws his gaze more often than he feels comfortable admitting, even to himself.
She looks down shyly before answering his question, a habit that Molesley has learned to read as her steeling herself up to say something she isn't entirely comfortable with admitting, or if she's said something she perhaps didn't mean to reveal. As always, he doesn't push her, allowing her to speak when she's ready.
"I think you're right," she admits eventually. "About Mr Bates being innocent." Baxter is the only person Molesley has confessed his suspicions to, as far as she knows, and at first she had been reluctant to agree. But the more the team has uncovered about Bates's past, and the troubles he and his wife have endured, Baxter has to admit that perhaps Molesley has a point: he's a man who has fought bitterly for everything he has, and would be loathe to lose it all now.
She realises that this probably doesn't fully explain how she came to be standing in the freezing cold on a Saturday afternoon, outside the exact same pub that Molesley had been leaving. One glance at his face tells her he is wondering as much.
"I'd like to be helpful," she offers, shyly at first. "Do mind if I tag along with you? It's a long job, I could keep you company."
Molesley is shocked, and it shows on his face for a moment before a wide smile breaks out. His hands fiddle nervously with the buttons on his coat as he replies, though he never breaks eye contact. "Thank you, that would help a lot," he admits, not managing to hide the flattered note in his voice.
Baxter smiles openly, and Molesley is yet again struck by her beauty - it so happens that this particular realisation occurs every day, but is always as overcoming as if it were the first. She rarely smiles like this though, and Molesley wonders if he's imagining the look of adoration in her eyes as she holds his gaze.
After a moment, she reluctantly breaks eye contact and tilts her head slightly, indicating that she wishes to look at the list in his hand. He passes her the sheet of paper, and gives her a quick run-down. "So far, I've covered 13 places, out of a possible 71. Who knew York had so many drinking establishments?"
Baxter's eyes dance with mirth. "Never been one for the night-life then Molesley?" she asks teasingly.
"Never had much luck in that area, I'm afraid," he smiles, his words laced with meaning as hers were. A light blush covers Baxter's cheeks as she checks the next place on his list. Molesley is entranced.
She smiles sweetly. "Well maybe it's about time you did."
Molesley just manages to hold back his splutter at her words, but it's his turn to go red. Baxter turns to set off towards their next destination, leaving Molesley to stand stunned for a few moments, before regaining his composure and catching up with her.
They walk in companionable silence down the street towards The Crown & Anchor. Molesley is secretly thrilled that he gets to spend the whole afternoon with her, and rather selfishly hopes that they don't find the pub Mr Bates had been drinking in; at least not today. He savours every moment that he gets to spend in her company, and the fact that Baxter deliberately sought him out today indicates that perhaps she may feel the same way about him.
At the pub's entrance he turns to her and smiles, gesturing towards the door. "After you Baxter."
Smiling graciously, she steps in front of Molesley, but turns back to face him before she enters, hand resting on the door. "Do please call me Phyllis when we're not at work," she says coyly. "Baxter seems awfully formal."
Molesley's heart leaps, and it takes him a moment to stutter out, "O-Only if you call me Joseph... Phyllis."
Baxter nods in acquiescence, pushing the door open and stepping into the pub in order to cover her blush at the way his voice sounded curling around the syllables of her name.
As they approach the bar, she glances back at Molesley and is pleased to see that he looks as overcome as she feels; maybe she's not as alone in this as she thought.
Please review if you enjoyed! I'll try and update soon!