Chapter 1: Would You Say Yes?

A/N: Starts during 3.1. Sandra/Gerry

"Yeah, well, I've asked so many women to marry me that it just popped out."

"You've never asked me," Sandra pointed out.

"Would you say yes?" Gerry asked, a bit of a challenge in his voice.

"No," she laughed.

"There ya go then." He held onto his smile as he took a drink of wine, but something in his heart had fallen when she said no. Gerry quickly put the exchange out of his mind. He knew it was something he would have to come back to when his friends were gone, but for now, he wouldn't think about it.

Gerry lay in bed at three in the morning, unable to fall asleep. He kept thinking of Sandra and the pangs of regret he felt over the conversation at dinner. Why had he even asked if she would say yes? To begin with, he had never even considered marrying Sandra – hell, he hadn't considered a relationship with her! Yeah, he flirted with her at work, mostly because she didn't like it. The rest of the time he considered her a ball-breaker; if asked, he would have expressed horror about the very idea of having a romantic relationship with her. Not because he didn't think the sex would be good – he was actually convinced that it would be mind blowing. However, he strongly believed that being married to her would be a constant struggle for control that he frankly wasn't up to facing. Not at his age.

The door buzzed, and Gerry sat up in bed. Should he answer it? When it buzzed a second and then a third time, he resignedly put on his dressing gown and went to the door.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised that it was Sandra, and she was clearly not sober. When she walked in, still dressed in her clothes from dinner, she was wobbling just a bit. "Hi, Gerry," she said with a little giggle.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough. Got some more wine?" Walking down the hall she stumbled, and he caught her in his arms, leading her into the sitting room and placing her carefully on the sofa.

"I don't think you need any more wine, Sandra." He sat down beside her, waiting. He knew what she was going to ask.

It didn't take long. "Why not, Gerry?"

"Why not what?" He wondered if she would come right out and admit what she wanted to know.

She gazed at him for several minutes. Her eyes grew moist. "You know what."

"I want you to say it, Sandra."

Several more minutes went by, and he actually saw a tear roll down her cheek. Finally, she whispered, "All right, damn you. Why haven't you asked me to marry you?"

He took her hand. "We've never even been on a date, Sandra."

She jumped up, pulling her hand away from his, but she couldn't stand, and he caught her again as she fell back onto the sofa, landing half in his lap. "That's another thing, Gerry. Why haven't you ever asked me out?"

He kept holding her, telling himself he had to, or she would stand up again and hurt herself. "You're my guvnor. It wouldn't be right." He knew the minute he said it that it sounded lame coming from him.

"Wouldn't stop you if it were anyone else," she muttered. Then she pulled away from him, but at least she stayed sitting down. "Gerry, what do you have against me?"

His temper suddenly flared up. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? From the time we first met, you made it clear you didn't like me. I know you think I'm old-fashioned, chauvinistic, irresponsible, immature, and a complete tosser, but isn't there anything you like about me?"

To his dismay, she began to cry. He knew it was the alcohol, but he still felt guilty.

"How can you say that, Gerry? It's true, sometimes I get mad at you, but if I didn't like you I would have kicked you off the team a long time ago. You're a fantastic detective, you're clever, funny, caring, an incredible cook, and amazingly sexy." She laughed through the tears. "In fact, sometimes I have trouble keeping my mind on work instead of thinking about what you would be like in bed."

This was news to Gerry, and he had a feeling it was not something Sandra would want him to know! If she remembered this tomorrow, she would probably regret it.

He tenderly wiped away her tears. "I feel the same way about you, Sandra. Everything except the cooking, of course." She laughed, this time without crying, and he felt a jolt of happiness. "Feel better now?"

"Yes." She leaned against him and he put an arm around her. It was a comfortable position, and he found himself not wanting her to go home.

"How did you get here?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" she asked sleepily.

"You didn't drive, did you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you're definitely not driving home. You can either take a taxi or you can stay here."

"Stay," she mumbled.

"All right. Do you want to sleep on the sofa or take my bed?"

"The sofa's fine," she said.

By the time her head hit the cushion, she was asleep. He carefully covered her with a blanket, then went back to bed. He wasn't sure how well he could sleep after her revelation, but to his surprise, he fell asleep quickly.

Sandra woke with a throbbing headache, wondering where she was. It took her a few minutes to work out that she was lying on Gerry's sofa. How did she get there? She remembered being at his place for pasta night. She remembered going home afterward and drinking way too much - at least one full bottle of wine, after all the wine she had at dinner. At some point she must have come back to his, but she didn't remember anything about it.

She felt grateful that she was at least sleeping on the sofa and not in the bed with Gerry; therefore, she probably she hadn't done anything regrettable whilst she was drunk.

She stood up carefully and went to the loo. While she was in there, Gerry's alarm went off, and when she came out, he was in the living room. "Oh, there you are," he said. "Fancy some breakfast?"

The very idea of food made her stomach turn. "No, thanks. I'd better go home and change."

"Well, if you must." He walked slowly towards her, intruding in her personal space, and she wondered what he was going to do. But she didn't move, she felt glued to the floor. She had to know.

He put his arms around her and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. "See you at work, Sandra."

As he drove to work, Gerry was still wondering what – if anything – he should do about what he'd learned the night before. He didn't think Sandra remembered confessing her feelings. If she had, she would have reacted when he kissed her. Or more likely, she wouldn't have let him kiss her at all. She had warned him once, when they were undercover with the red diamond, and that was just a kiss on the cheek.

So why did she let him kiss her this morning? It wasn't as if it were a full-on passionate snog, but still, it was unlike her. The whole thing intrigued him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to leave it alone. He had to explore this new concept. But how?

Ah, he had an idea – juvenile, admittedly, but potentially enlightening and definitely worth it. A secret admirer, that was the ticket. The first step was to think carefully about what he could do that might please her – gifts, treats, sweet words in a nice card, but not too sappy. Then he would find ways to give them to her without letting on that it was him. He would even tease her about them, making it look as though he knew nothing.

He laughed out loud as he pulled into the car park. This was going to be fun!

Sandra found herself eyeing Gerry speculatively as the day went on. She still worried that she might have said or done something to let him guess that she was attracted to him. But his behavior was so normal as to be monotonous, so she finally sighed with relief and stopped thinking about it.