We all go out to dinner on the last night before Mac gets back. Danny and Adam are still on leave, but they meet us there. I hadn't even realized how much I missed them both. It's so good to have everyone back together—except for one, of course.
I look around at the others as they're laughing about some story of Danny's, feeling a little like a mother hen. It makes me think about if Mac really left, if he retired or got promoted, if this is how it would be. Who would take over his place, I wonder—would they offer it to me, or maybe bring in someone else?
Mac and I have talked about this before, and I've told him I'm just not sure I want his job—too much red tape and bureaucracy and politics, and not enough investigating. He certainly agrees with me there, but he's said I would be great at his job. Maybe so, I told him, but I might also hate it.
Somehow, I don't see either Danny or Lindsay in that position. But Sheldon could do it, I think suddenly, and the idea surprises me, but then I start picturing him as lab director and the more I do, the more I convince myself. He's as good at being a boss as Mac is, and he's had that kind of experience in the ME's office. He's also frighteningly smart, just like Mac.
I have to laugh at myself. Mac and Sheldon both will be glad to know I have everything figured out for them. I bring myself back to the present since Adam is saying good night, and then Danny and Lindsay leave together. It's just Don and Sheldon and me left in the large booth, and I'm not about to budge.
I used to do this with Mac—hanging back while the others left, hoping for just a few minutes alone with him. If that makes me pathetic, then I'm pretty pathetic. Now I'm doing the same thing, and I'm unduly glad when Don gets up to leave. Nothing personal, Don, really.
I turn back and meet Sheldon's waiting eyes. "You okay?" he asks. "You're awful quiet tonight."
"Yeah…I was thinking."
"Thinking what?"
"About if Mac left. I think you should take his place."
"What?" He seems astonished. "Why me?"
"Because you'd be good at it."
He sips his drink. "I always thought you were next in line. And you'd be good at it."
I sigh. "I've never quite persuaded myself that I want that position. And this week hasn't done much to convince me, either."
He smiles sympathetically. "I know. Maybe it's just that we're short-handed."
"Yeah."
He reaches over and brushes my hand, in what's becoming a customary gesture between us. "You've done a beautiful job," he says. "I don't think anyone could have done it better."
"Thanks." He has nice hands, I notice…graceful and relaxed, with long, strong fingers. I have a sudden thought—like a vision, except it's feeling instead of seeing—of those hands on me, his voice just a low rumble against my skin. I actually shiver a little, and fidget in my seat as a pang settles low in my stomach.
"Do you think he's going to leave?" he asks, and I blink and have to ask him to repeat the question before I comprehend it.
"No…he says he's happy where he is. But he might want to retire sometime."
"I don't know…I can see him working until he's ninety-five."
I laugh. "You never know. Maybe he'll retire to be a full-time daddy."
"Wow." His grin is lopsided. "I can't say I've ever pictured that."
"I can see it," I murmur, mostly to myself.
"Really?" Now his hand wraps around mine, and I nod. "You think they'll have children?" he asks after a moment.
"Oh, I hope so…Mac wants kids. He always has."
He squeezes my hand and I look up at him. "You know…I think you're making progress."
"I told you."
He smiles, looking down at our hands. "So…Danny's next in line for Mac's office, anyway."
"What?"
"Yeah, when Mac set his arm on fire, Danny made him promise he could have the office if Mac died."
I'm shaken by sudden laughter because that's one of the strangest sentences I've heard all day. "All right, tell the truth. That didn't prove anything, Mac just did it because he wanted to play with the stunt gel, didn't he?"
"Absolutely. Don't tell me you're on to the secret workings of the minds of men."
"I think I've cracked the code." I stand up and go to his side of the table, where he just sits, looking up at me in surprise. "Scoot over," I tell him, which he does promptly, and I slide in beside him.
I just wanted to sit with him, I wasn't even going to touch him, but he sets his arm around my shoulders so I lean against him a little. We sit together in silence for a long time and eventually my head finds its way to the curve of his shoulder. I can feel his breath stirring my hair.
Finally I turn my face against his neck and murmur, "We should go."
"Yeah," he says, and doesn't move. I grin and shift against him, and he kisses the top of my head before he lets me go.
I'm running prints in the lab the next morning when I look up to see Mac leaning in the doorway. "Hi," he says, smiling.
I jump up and go to hug him, and he catches me to him hard, just for a second. He looks rested and happy—younger, even. I'm guessing the trip went well. "So how was London?"
"It was good. Really good," he says, with the shy smile I love. He looks past me. "What are you working on?"
"Oh, no, you don't. I want to hear all about it."
He laughs. "That might take a while. Meet me for lunch?"
"Okay." I fill him in on the case, and go back to his office with him to bring him up to date on everything else.
Later we go across the street to the coffee shop for lunch. He shows me pictures on his phone and tells me about where they went and what they saw. I listen, fascinated, but with a corner of my brain I note with pleasure that I'm genuinely happy for him. He's adorably shy when he shows me a picture of the two of them in front of a fountain, arms around each other, and my first thought is she's so pretty.
"You make such a cute couple," I say lightly, handing the phone back, but I really do mean it.
He gives a little embarrassed sort of laugh—I doubt he gets called "cute" very often—and says, "Thanks."
We're still talking when we both get called out, and it doesn't occur to me until later that I went a whole lunch without wanting to kiss his chin.
I make myself wait a while longer, just to make sure. I grow more and more impatient, but I keep reminding myself of what I told Sheldon: I want to do things right this time.
But finally one morning I catch him alone in the locker room just as he's coming in, look around carefully, and ask, "Do you have plans tonight?"
"No, why? Do you want to do something?"
"Could we go out?"
"Sure," he agrees readily.
"On a date?" I clarify, feeling a little foolish that my heart is pounding like it is.
He glances around too, and steps closer to me, his eyes shining. "You sure?"
"Yes."
His gaze holds mine as he takes my hand and lifts it slowly to his lips, brushing a kiss across my fingers. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," he whispers.
And it was just that simple, I keep thinking all day. In retrospect, I probably should have given him a little notice, but he didn't seem to care. All I had to do was ask.
So simple. And so refreshing, because I'm tired of everything being complicated. This is how it should be…
"You seem awful happy today," observes Danny.
"I am."
"Why? Did something happen?"
"Yes."
"Something good?"
"Yes," I answer, and go on dusting for prints.
"Fine, then. Don't tell me," he grumbles, and I laugh at him.
"I won't," I promise.
Of course we end up working late, so we just go together for dinner when we finally get off. I had wanted to go home and change, and go someplace nice, just to make it special. But I realize, as we sit grinning at each other in the little Italian place Sheldon suggested, that none of that even matters.
"You know," he murmurs, looking down at his plate, "I've always dreamed of this."
"Always?" I ask lightly, because I don't really know what to say to that.
He looks up at me, his eyes dark, and then back down. He doesn't answer for a long time, but finally he begins softly, "When I was in the ME's office, I used to watch you and be amazed how you could even light up a morgue, just by walking in. No one else I knew could do that."
A sweet ache settles in my throat as I stare at him. Just like that, I'm close to tears. "Sheldon…why didn't you ever say anything?"
He's not eating, but he keeps his eyes on his food. "When I first knew you, I thought you and Mac were a couple."
"You did?"
"Yeah. I used to think what a good job you did keeping it professional at work."
I smile. "You were right. That's something we always were good at." He gives a tiny laugh. "So when did you know we weren't?"
"I just gradually found out, I guess. But after that, I sort of figured out how you felt."
"And I…" Helpfully told you all about it. And he was right, anyway—if he had tried, I would have gently turned him down, and maybe lost him forever. "I'm sorry, Sheldon…"
"Don't." He cuts me off as his hand covers mine, warm and firm. "It doesn't matter. We're here now."
We leave the restaurant hand-in-hand. "Want to see a movie?" he suggests.
Why yes, I would like to sit next to you in a darkened room. "Sure."
He twines our fingers together again as soon as we sit down, and I can feel his shoulder brushing against mine and my heart starts to beat too fast again, just from being near him. After a while he shifts my hand to his other one so he can lay his arm across the back of my seat, and by the end of the movie my head is on his shoulder and his arm is surrounding me. We sit all the way through the credits, even though they go on forever, until we're the very last ones left.
Then I suggest we go for coffee, even though it's late, because I don't want the evening to end. But finally we find ourselves outside my building, and now it's even later, and we have to be at work all too soon.
"Well…" he begins.
"Come up for a minute?" People are in and out of my building at all hours, and I'm not going to kiss him standing out here. And after gazing at that mouth all evening, I'm going to kiss him.
"Just for a minute," he agrees, and I lead him in.
By the time we get to my floor, I have butterflies in my stomach and my heart is pounding once again, which is silly, because it's just Sheldon. Except that's the reason: it's Sheldon.
I close my door and turn to face him a little uncertainly, not sure what he's expecting. He steps a little closer and I picture him kissing me up against the door and my knees feel weak.
"Just a second," I murmur, and step out of my heels and nudge them aside. "There, that's better."
He laughs. His sudden, broad grin—so beautiful—shines in the soft lightfrom the lamp I always leave on. "You got something to say, Bonasera?"
I laugh too, feeling myself start to relax. "Just making an observation."
He takes another step toward me, so close now that I can feel his warmth. My back brushes against the door. "Can I take your hair down?" he asks softly.
I'd put it back in a ponytail earlier at work. I would have taken it down for him already, if I had known. "Sure."
He reaches both hands behind my head and his fingers find the elastic band, disentangling it gently and pulling it free. He doesn't even snag it as much as I would have myself. Then he pulls back just a little, caressing the strands that fall around my face. "I was thinking," he murmurs, "about what kinky-headed kids we would have."
I grin. "Yes, they'll be doomed, won't they?"
He laughs suddenly and leans his forehead against mine. "It also occurs to me that I might be jumping the gun a little."
"That's okay."
He draws back so he can see me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He leaves it at that, and I don't care; he can take it however he wants. And I can't think very clearly anyway, because when he sets his hand along my face a sweet, sharp pang flashes through me, and then I'm tingling all over. My eyes close as his thumb strokes my cheekbone, whisper-light. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and his fingers slide down the side of my neck, so slowly, and across to the hollow between my collarbones.
He seems almost in a daze, staring at the spot as he traces tiny circles with his fingertips. "May I kiss you?" he murmurs, barely above a whisper.
"Yes." Please please please.
To my surprise, he lowers his fingers a little and leans his head down and kisses me there. And it's not exactly a kiss, either, because he sets his parted lips against my skin and closes them slowly, and my head bumps back against the door and I whimper out loud.
His face is still against my neck and I can feel his lips moving on my skin as he says, "You okay?"
"Mmm." I hope he takes that as an affirmative because it's all I can get out, and it still sounds like a whimper.
"Your pulse is racing."
Nerd. I bring my hand to the back of his head and raise it so I can see his eyes. "That's what you do to me."
He does kiss me then. It's slow and sweet, but I can feel the intensity hovering just below the surface, like I observed that day in the lab. I wonder what it would take to get him to let go, to stop holding back, but judging from what happened earlier that's probably not something to pursue this late on a weeknight. So I just pull him in, feeling his closely-cropped hair rough beneath my palm, and kiss him back like I've wanted to do so often.
Then his lips move across my cheek as he leaves little kisses all the way to my ear and down along my jaw line, while with my other hand I clutch his shoulder because I'm trembling. I think about lonely nights and poor substitutes (Frankie) and about wanting the wrong thing, when what I really wanted was right under my nose. And then I think this is Sheldon, and I love you, and everything's going to be all right, and the sense of release is so strong that tears sting my eyes and slide down my face.
He pulls back in alarm. His face is wet with my tears. "Stella…"
"No, it's good…" I can't find the words to explain so I just pull him back to me, almost desperately. "Please, Sheldon…"
And he lets go. It's not slow or soft this time, it's hard and fierce as his lips find mine again and he crushes me against the door. His hands are on my shoulders and arms and sides and he's kissing me again and again and I can't get my breath and if he thought my pulse was racing before…
His hand goes behind my head and holds it fast as he moves to my chin and then he tips my head back as he travels down my neck again, almost roughly, so that I worry he might leave marks, and I don't care. Then his mouth slides back up, hot against my skin, and back to my mouth and his teeth graze my lower lip and I cry out, my fingers digging sharply into his arms.
When I can breathe again, he's standing with his cheek against mine, motionless except for his own labored breathing. "I think my minute is up," he murmurs.
You're not getting away that easily. I fold my arms tight around his waist and turn my face toward him, kissing him just below his ear. "You're pretty good at this, you know."
"Thanks. It's another one of the talents."
"Okay, that's it. I want to see a complete list of these talents."
"Sorry." He's kissing me now where my neck meets my shoulder. "You just have to discover them…one by one…"
I can't seem to formulate any reply to that, or think about anything at all but the little shocks and tingles that are starting over again. But he stops, all too soon, and straightens so I can see him and grins at me, his eyes drowsy. "Hi," he says.
I laugh. "Hi."
"I really do need to get going."
"Yeah."
"Sounds kind of stupid, but…I had a good time tonight."
I smile, struggling even to remember the rest of the night, before we came in and shut the door. "Yeah. Me too."
"So, see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah." I stroke his back, my cheek on his shoulder. He's never going to get out the door at the rate—not that I care. At last he pulls away from me gently. "I need to go."
"You've only said that seven times."
"I'm actually going this time." He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and kisses me softly. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
It's probably two months later when Mac and I are together in his office, chatting about the case, sliding into our comfortable patterns of conversation. More comfortable than ever now, I think, because I'm not distracted or trying not to daydream the whole time, because now I have Sheldon and I have my best friend. Things have a way of working out…
Sheldon taps on the door and comes in. "Prints came back," he says, handing the sheets to Mac.
"Thanks." Mac's eyes follow him as he leaves, and then he turns back to me. "So…" he begins slowly. "How are you?"
I look at him for a moment, wondering why he's asking now, but then I start to grin and I can't help it. "I'm great, Mac. Really great."
He smiles, looking down. "I'm glad," he says simply.
"How are you?"
"I'm…" He looks back up at me. "I haven't been this good in a long time."
We smile at each other for a moment. I can't think of exactly what to say but it doesn't matter, because we've always been able to converse with our eyes. I get up and go around to his side of the desk. "Come here," I say, and when he stands up I wrap my arms around him.
He hugs me back, and I lean against him and wonder how he even knew, because we haven't told anyone yet…but, of course, I knew about Peyton long before he thought I did. "I love you, Mac," I murmur.
"I love you, too," he says, and kisses my cheek as he pulls away.
I go to find Sheldon, and discover that he's seen the whole thing through the glass and now he's grinning from ear to ear. "What was that?" he asks. "A relapse?"
"No." I squeeze his arm as we head for the locker room. "It was…well, everything's okay now."
His arm is around me suddenly, tight enough that I can hardly breathe. "I'm glad," he whispers. I laugh—to his bewilderment—and kiss him, and let him go in case someone walks in on us.
As we approach the elevator, I bring up the idea that's had me in its grip all day. "So I've been thinking…I think we should go on a trip."
"What, to London?"
I laugh again as he presses the button for the ground floor. "Maybe not London." I feel shy, for some reason, but I'm going to ask him. "Would you maybe like to go to Greece, sometime?"
"I would love that."
"Really?"
"Really. Of course, I'd go to…Death Valley, with you."
"Wow. Death Valley or Greece. I don't know how to decide."
He grins. "I've heard that Greece is beautiful."
"Yeah."
"We could go there for our honeymoon," he suggests. Just like that.
"Are we going on a honeymoon?" I ask in surprise, hiding my smile.
He suddenly seems to realize what he said. "Well, I mean—if we…"
I start to laugh and kiss his earlobe, murmuring, "I would be glad to go on a honeymoon with you."
He buries his face against my neck just for a second before the elevator stops. We step out still holding hands, and don't even stop when we run into Danny. He twitches in confusion and grumbles, "Am I the last to hear about this, too?"
"Not quite," I tell him, and Sheldon slaps him on the back, and we leave him standing there as we walk out together.
