By the time Remington arrived at the office, Laura had worked herself into a fine lather. As he'd entered the Agency doors, smiling and prepared to greet Mildred with his customary 'morning, morning, morning', he'd crossed the threshold just in time to hear the slam of Laura's office door. He raised a brow in Mildred's direction, who held her hands up while shaking her head.
"Don't look at me, Chief. She seemed fine when she came in about an hour ago, then whammo! Going on about you having finalized some cases and you should have told her before she wasted her time doing the same?" He chuckled and taking a couple steps back, leaned against the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"In the dog house then am I?" he asked, looking over his shoulder towards her door with amusement. "It seems our Miss Holt isn't taking well to the limitations that are about to be imposed on her."
"How do you come to that? It seems to me her issue is with you," Mildred commented ruefully. Taking the two paces to Mildred's desk, he knocked on it with his knuckles while leaning forward conspiratorially.
"Because when have I ever landed on her bad side from doing too much work, eh?" With a final chuckle he strode over to Laura's door and knocked. Silence greeted him. With a smile and a shake of his head, he dared to enter the lion's den. When nothing came flying at his head, he closed the door and walked over to her desk to brush his lips against her cheek.
"What's on the schedule today, love?" She sat back in her chair and gave him an icy glare.
"I had planned to put the remainder of the cases we closed to bed, but after wasting the last hour doing just that, I discover you had already done it…" She waved her arm towards the floor where files were scattered about "… and all of those as well." He struggled to keep his face straight.
"Just lending a hand so you'd have to time for all that footwork you enjoy," he attempted to mollify.
"What footwork, Mr. Steele?" she demanded to know while throwing her hands up in the air. "We have exactly two skip traces, which I might add will likely take me less than two hours to complete, one asset trace for a divorce which Mildred is handling and four security installations right now. Even worse, Thanksgiving is only a couple of weeks away, which means 'good will to all men' starts to prevail. So I ask again, what footwork?" He propped a hip up on the corner of her desk.
"Worried about business are you?" She rocketed out of her chair to pace the room.
"Not worried! Bored! With two more weeks of boredom waiting for me while I sit at home. Then what? When I'm finally released from my gilded prison by that… that… Dr. Frankenstein… it will be just in time for business to come to a shrieking halt," she growled.
"Or," he suggested, "Given the approaching holidays, as you pointed out, you can look at the time off as an opportunity to plan out how you wish to decorate our new home for the holidays." He knew he'd taken a misstep the minute her eyes narrowed at him. He held up his hands, palms facing her. "Now Laura, I only made the suggestion as you so thoroughly enjoy the holidays while I've not the first idea how to 'deck the halls,' so to speak." That line of reasoning gave her pause.
"It could be fun," she relented, steepling her fingers. "The living and dining room, the entryway, maybe even something out back. At the very least, it would keep me occupied." Her calm contemplation was short-lived and she threw her hands up in the air again. "And how am I supposed to do that? Doctor's order: At home, leg up."
"I'm sure you could prevail on Jocelyn to do any shopping needed. According to Monroe she's declining any assignments until after the new year, but she's already lamenting all the time she'll have on her hands." Her mood lightened considerably.
"It's not a nice, juicy murder," she noted, a corner of her mouth quirking upwards, "but it might help fill at least part of my days in captivity." Remington stood and crossed the room to her, drawing her to him by her hips.
"And I give you my solemn vow, that I'll find a way to… fill… your nights," he remarked suggestively with a waggle of his brows. Her arms slipped around his neck.
"I bet you will," she answered, bemused.
"Therapy, Mrs. Steele, therapy," he corrected, feigning shock at her inference even as a corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. "It's my understanding hot tubs and Jacuzzis have wonderfully restorative powers. Ah, and massages. Mustn't forget the massages. Really, I'm astounded that you'd think I meant anything else."
"Am I to understand then that you're presuming to assume what I meant?" she volleyed. His smiled grew wider.
"Ah, but aren't you assuming what it is that you are accusing me of presuming to assume?" Her eyes blinked hard at that convoluted retort, before she barked a quiet laugh and withdrew from the embrace. "Aren't you expected at the Camerote's Wilshire store in about five minutes to map out the security details?" she asked with a glance at her watch.
"I am," he agreed. "But as I'm already going to be a few minutes late, I might as well do this before leaving." He tugged her back into his arms and kissed her soundly, leaving her slightly breathless as their lips parted. Then, with a smile of satisfaction, he turned and left her office, closing the door behind him. As he passed Mildred's desk on the way out of the Agency, he gave her a wink. "Mrs. Steele's right as rain once more. Let's hope it lasts."
Mildred returned to the asset trace she was conducting a smile lighting her face. In the months since her two kids had stopped dancing around one another and allowed themselves to be caught, while they still bickered here and there, sexual frustration had been replaced with a commitment to taking care of one another that she'd only seen glimpses of in the past.
She whistled a happy little tune the remainder of the morning while behind her office door Laura hummed similarly.
(TBC)