A/N: This just...happened. The fluff just tends to build up when I'm bored, and it needed an outlet! Will there be more? I honestly don't know. Yet.
Drifty
Something Unexpected
Heaving a sigh, Lewis threw the file he had been reading down onto the collection of almost identical folders carpeting the top of his desk. "Right, I need a break. Lunch?"
Hathaway's gaze lifted from his own, decidedly tidier pile of files and papers, and he gave Lewis a nod of eager agreement. "Please."
Lewis knew his sergeant would have continued his study of the files had Lewis asked it of him, diligently absorbing the information they contained into that Cambridge-educated brain of his. The suggestion of the break had been made as much for his benefit as Lewis' own.
Straightening the file he had been pouring over back onto its neat stack, Hathaway rose with no further hesitation, snagging his jacket from the back of his chair with one finger as Lewis ushered him out of the door.
After a brief stop to purchase some sandwiches, the two men settled onto a bench to eat. The air was crisp, but the golden spring sunlight chased off the threat of any chill; it made a welcome change to the enclosed confines of the office. It was at times like these that Lewis felt most content, sat shoulder to shoulder with his sergeant in companionable silence, surrounded by the majestic beauty of Oxford.
Hearing the click of a lighter, Lewis looked across at Hathaway, not at all surprised to find him lighting a cigarette. He might not agree with the lad's habit, but he found himself almost hypnotized by Hathaway's easy, languid movements; they summoned to his mind the image of a satisfied, relaxed cat.
Lewis turned away, looking instead at the gently rustling trees and quiet street. A student cycled past. Being away from the desk, out in the fresh air, was a good way to let the information from the reports they had been trolling through settle and sink in, although Lewis was certain that the cogs in James' mind never stopped whirring.
There he goes again. It seemed like, whatever direction they were headed in, his thoughts always returned to his sergeant. And he hadn't allowed himself to consider what that might mean.
"Right," Lewis said, slapping his palms to his thighs, more as a distraction for himself than anything else. "We should head back, before Innocent notices we're missing." He made to rise but felt a pressure on his arm, holding him back. Sitting back down, he looked a question at Hathaway as the sergeant withdrew his hand.
"A few more minutes?" Hathaway asked. His grey eyes were expressionless, but the slight wistful note in his tone made Lewis nod automatically; he couldn't deny his sergeant his request, however much of a rollicking they might receive from Innocent.
Lewis only realized he was still looking at Hathaway when James stated, "You're staring, sir." Bloody hell, now he wasn't even aware he was doing it. He shifted awkwardly, seeking something else to look at. Anything else. He opted for a litter bin a short way along the street.
There had always been the rumours, knocking around the station, concerning Hathaway's sexuality, but the sly sod had never given anyone a straight answer whenever the question had been posed, appearing to take some kind of perverse pleasure in sustaining the Hathaway Mystery. Lewis had never before cared about the answer, beyond natural curiosity; that sort of thing didn't bother him. It wasn't something that would affect James' ability to do the job. Recently, however, he had caught himself wondering about it on more than one occasion.
"You can ask if you like, sir."
Startled, Lewis glanced back to Hathaway, but the man's expression remained unreadable.
"Ask what?" Lewis tried, and failed, to sound casually confused.
"What it is that's been bugging you so thoroughly recently."
The man's a bloody mind reader! Thrown, Lewis stayed silent for a moment to regain his composure. Hathaway hadn't exactly promised to answer the question, if that was even the question he assumed Lewis wanted to ask, but this was the least evasive Lewis had ever seen him.
"Have you ever been attracted to men?"
An eyebrow arched at that. Years of experience of questioning suspects and witnesses had taught Lewis that taking a slightly different approach could often yield results.
Regardless of his tactics, Lewis didn't think they had any chance of obtaining results. Hathaway's expression remained as infuriatingly closed and neutral as always. Lewis had to look away again, beginning to feel a fool for falling into the trap.
"Yes."
Lewis' stomach gave a flip, but he was momentarily stunned by the simple, straightforward, truthful response to think about what that meant. He guessed that perhaps Hathaway had merely appreciated a question that didn't require him to affix any sort of label to himself.
He realized he had been silent too long when he felt Hathaway's gaze on him, then made the mistake of meeting that stare. Those bright, intelligent eyes seemed to pierce right through him, into his soul, and yet he couldn't look away.
"Are you going to ask your other question?" Hathaway enquired. He could have been asking the time, or any number of other inconsequential queries, his tone was so innocent and matter-of-fact. But Lewis found himself unable to speak. His mouth had gone dry and his heart was pounding in his ears. He tried to swallow. "I don't think I can."
For once in his life, he was too much of a coward to ask; afraid of the answer he would receive. But which response was he most afraid of? Acceptance or rejection? Or did he just not want to voice his own feelings, admit to what it was that had been preoccupying his mind so much recently, force himself to face them.
He didn't get the luxury of some time to think it all through, however, because Hathaway was up to his maddening mind-reading trick again.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, sir. I don't bite." Deadpan. "Not too hard, anyway."
Lewis' jaw must have dropped then because a smirk tugged at the corner of James' mouth. The deep rumble of the sergeant's voice shot straight to his gut. The bastard was doing it on purpose. That he had already worked it out shouldn't have been surprising; the man was a brilliant detective, after all.
Recovering his senses a little, Lewis huffed a laugh that was more a groan than anything else. "I can't…This is…" He was having trouble articulating the jumble of words and thoughts that suddenly crowded in his mind.
"This is…What, sir?"
Hathaway sounded curious as to how Lewis' aborted sentence would have ended, and Lewis wondered whether it was just idle interest or if there was something deeper there, prompting him to encourage Lewis to complete his thought.
Scrubbing a hand hard over his face, Lewis shook his head. "This is crazy. I'm being a fool. I mean, look at us, man."
Feigning, or possibly not, confusion, Hathaway made a show of casting an objective gaze over the two of them. "What am I supposed to be seeing?" he asked.
"I'm a grouchy old bugger, nearing retirement, for God's sake, and you're…"
"A brooding, know-it-all, awkward sod?"
"That's not what I was going to say," Lewis protested.
"I know, but it's true. And it doesn't matter."
Lewis frowned, trying to ascertain if James was saying what he thought the lad was saying, and whether or not he should just nip it in the bud right now, before either of them said something they would undoubtedly regret.
Hathaway smiled fondly at his inspector's discomfort and when he spoke his voice was soft. "We fit," he said simply with a small shrug, as if that was all the reason they needed.
"You make us sound like pieces of a bloody jigsaw."
"Perhaps that's all we are, in the grand scheme of things."
"Eh, don't get all existential on me," Lewis groaned.
"I believe I was being metaphys-"
"James." Lewis cut him short. His brain couldn't cope with a discussion on philosophy on top of everything else.
"Sorry, sir." Hathaway was barely managing to suppress a smile.
Lewis had to fight the urge to grab ahold of James and kiss that exasperating smirk and he felt heat flushing his cheeks as the image rose in his mind. What had gotten into him lately? He needed some time to process everything. This hadn't been the relaxing break he had intended it to be when he suggested it.
"We really should…" He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the station. "Innocent's going to have our heads." This time he made it to his feet, although his legs didn't seem altogether capable of keeping him upright. As he was trying to regain his stability, he felt Hathaway rise beside him, then the brush of fingers against the back of his hand.
He had already forgotten how to breathe, so when James bent his head and he felt the soft whisper of his breath caress his ear, Lewis feared he was in danger of heart failure.
"As long as we can continue this conversation later. Sir."
"Aye, I think we better had," Lewis just about managed to choke out when he remembered how to form words.
Hathaway straightened back to his full height and when Lewis, against his better judgment, glanced across at him, the blank mask was back in place on his sergeant's face, but Lewis fancied he caught a playful glint in James' eye when their gazes briefly met.
Fighting the tremble in his knees, Lewis set off, James following faithfully at his heel as always.
