So, I have half of their first negotiation written, and suddenly couldn't finish it, so I wrote this instead. If I do figure out how to finish that, I'll post it where it belongs in the story (yes, that will be weird). In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this. Thanks for reading!
The breeze whipped his hair back, cooling him off, but not chilling him. It was a warm March, even by LA's standards, and Matt was enjoying it in style. Black leather jacket, t-shirt, jeans, sunglasses, all leaning against the softest leather seats he'd ever felt. The Rolling Stones blasted from the stereo, a satellite thing tuned to a classic rock station. All he needed was a beautiful woman in the passenger seat, and his strongest fantasies since he was ten would finally be realized.
He finally got it.
The Vista Blue, 2006 Mustang GT convertible.
His hands tightened around the leather covered steering wheel, feeling the power of the eight-cylinder transmission pulsating through him. No birthday could ever top this one. Well, losing his virginity for his sixteenth birthday might beat it, but it would be a hell of a battle.
Matt downshifted, slowing the car down as he approached Sloan's, noting with a certain amount of satisfaction, that everybody was just arriving and still in the parking lot. The looks on their faces would make this that much better.
He guided the Mustang smoothly into a parking space, his entrance earning the attention of his friends, and killed the engine.
"Flannery, where the hell did you get that?" Frank walked over, studying every royal blue curve and edge.
"Birthday gift to myself," he answered.
"I don't believe it, you actually bought one." Emily grinned, walking up to her partner.
"Told you, as soon as I paid down the credit cards..."
"Hey Matt, did you ever see the Muscle Car Babes 1982 calendar?" Duff asked, eyeing the Mustang with something akin to lust.
"You kidding? I think I still have that. Miss May, right?" Matt rested a hand on the bumper.
Duff nodded, smiling.
Cheryl's eyebrows rose. "Who was Miss May?"
"A beautiful twenty-two year-old brunette, who laid on the trunk of a blue 68' Shelby Mustang. My first experience in lust," Matt explained.
Cheryl nodded. "Yeah, I figured I didn't really want to know that."
"You two both have that calendar memorized?" Emily looked at them skeptically.
"I wouldn't say memorized," Duff tried. "But '82 was the second to last year the calendar was published, and Miss May on a classic Mustang? You don't forget that."
"What do you know, the porn industry practices alliteration," Cheryl cracked.
Emily chuckled.
"So," Frank turned to Matt grinning, "when do I get to take her for a spin?"
"Ha! You? Are you kidding? Trust my brand new, hard-earned, pride and joy to Mad Max? Not a chance." He shook his head and started toward Sloan's.
"Duff's just as bad."
"And who says Duff is touching her either?" Matt scowled at both men, holding the door open for his partner and boss, ever the gentleman.
Emily rolled her eyes. "How about you guys stop referring to the car like it actually has a sex?"
"Don't bother Emily, cars will always be shes to them," Cheryl said, sliding into the booth already occupied by several of their coworkers.
"Matt man, nice ride," Temple told him. This was followed similar murmurs of appreciation and awe by half the guys they worked with. Even Jake, the bartender came out to off his congratulations and slap Matt on the back.
Emily suddenly laughed. Her eyes were lit, and she nodded her head, as if she'd just made a discovery.
"What's so funny Lehman?" Frank looked at her skeptically.
"It's amazing," she said. "That car just earned him all your instant respect and admiration. He didn't have to do anything impressive, he just had a have an attractive car, and suddenly you all think he's a demigod. It's interesting, if we'd been doctors, or stockbrokers or even lawyers, it would be a Mercedes, or a Bentley or something like that. High school students, it would be anything will four wheels that runs, college students, whatever fits a keg of beer. The requirements for the object changes, but the group dynamic, the over-all reaction of the group remains static."
By the time she finished, she was chewing on her lip, her eyes focused on something far off in her mind. The rest of the group was silent, caught off guard by her sudden analysis. Then Frank broke the awkward silence.
"Stop psycho-analyzing us, Lehman, and have a beer."
She snapped out of it, and focused back on everyone, who were all laughing at Frank's comment. Duff handed her a beer, which she accepted gratefully.
Binder looked at her. "So you don't think that's a beautiful car?"
She grinned. "Well, I didn't say that. In fact..." She turned to Matt. "When do I get to drive it?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think you'll get to drive it?"
"I'm your partner."
"So? That doesn't mean you get to touch my baby."
Emily bit her lip, stifling a smile. She enjoyed bantering with him. "Well, then think of it as a reward."
Matt crossed his arms over his chest, the corners of his mouth turned up in an amused little grin. "A reward for what?"
"How about, for not touching a cigarette in a year as of today."
He started, dropping his arms. "Wait, what?"
"Consider that your birthday present this year, I forgot again." She shrugged self-deprecatingly.
"You haven't been smoking at home?" All traces of humor were gone from his face, he looked almost in disbelief.
"I figured if I was going to get down to one cigarette a day, I might as well just give them up altogether."
"Why didn't you mention that?"
"Less pressure on me to quit," she paused shifted nervously under his very intense gaze. She sighed. "Matt, would you please stop looking at me like I've grown a third eye?"
The previously silent group at the table chuckled at her plea, as Matt shook himself out of his shock. Then he did the last thing Emily, and really the entire group, was expecting, he moved closer to her and hugged her.
Emily's eyes went wide initially. She and Matt were pretty close for being partners only a few months, but they were not the touchy-feely type. Hell, they were all cops, none of them were touchy-feely. But now her rather attractive partner had his arms around her.
Not to offend him, she reciprocated, and found it was awkward and comfortable all at the same time.
"Congratulations," he said stepping back.
"Uh thanks." Emily slid onto a nearby stool, and took a long sip of beer.
She ignored Frank's raised eyebrows, Duff's amused grin, and Cheryl's questioning, slightly worried expression. One friendly hug, and their boss suspects they're involved?
"So," Frank drew the tables attention back, "how drunk are we getting the birthday boy this year?"
They didn't start packing it in until around midnight, when Matt was shot of whiskey away from not being able to walk a straight line (or maybe at all). Emily had had much less to drink, even though the guys bought her drinks for the night as a congratulations on quitting.
"Uh, is someone going to take Flannery's keys before he wreaks that beautiful car?" Temple looked skeptically at his intoxicated coworker.
Frank and Duff were grinning, pleased with a job well-done. Cheryl had already left for the night, tired and looking at an unfortunate Saturday morning work meeting. Being the boss had it's downsides.
"I've got him," Emily said, holding her hand out at her partner.
"What?" Matt's tone was snappish, though at least he didn't slur.
"Don't I get to drive?"
"My baby? My...my...my...oh shit, did the room just spin?"
Emily smirked. "Only in your head. Keys."
Held slowly lowered them to her palm, his moves overly deliberate. "Be gentle with her, she's brand new."
"Relax Matt, your precious hunk of metal is in good hands." Emily shook her head, and looked over at Frank and Duff. "You two are helping me get him into the car."
They chuckled, but didn't question her order, or bother trying to resist it. Even though she was getting to drive the beautiful car home. They were too drunk to anyway, they be going home in cabs.
With an arm under one shoulder, Frank escorted his friend through the parking lot to the shiny Mustang, and piled him in successfully, however clumsily. Emily was already sliding into the driver's seat, and inserting the key into the ignition. The Mustang started up with a throaty rumbling, and drunken Matt smiling and nodding his head in pride.
"Uh, you'll be okay getting this idiot home?" Frank eyed Matt skeptically, wondering if maybe they shouldn't have given him that last shot.
"We'll be fine," Emily assured him, pressing the button to fold the top down.
"You sure driving through LA at midnight with the top down is a good idea?"
"We're both armed, and I have a feeling after Matt sobers up, no one is ever getting in this driver's seat but him, so I'm going to enjoy this while I can."
"Alright, see you Monday then." He backed away and waved her off.
It had been a while since Emily drove stick, but it came back easily enough to her. She pushed the car up a gear, and drove through a green light. After two minutes driving though, she was glad for a red light, as it gave her a chance to thrown her hair up into a pony tail, and glance over at her companion.
The cool wind singing over his cheeks helped sober Matt up a little, enough that remembered his partner was driving. He recalled his earlier thought, and laughed to himself, though apparently loud enough for Emily to hear.
"What's funny?" She asked, glancing over.
"Eyes on the road at all times when you're driving my Mustang," he instructed her.
She rolled her eyes, but focused back on the road, still wondering what made her partner suddenly laugh.
It wasn't quite what he'd imaged, but Matt's longtime fantasy came to be on his thirty-third birthday. He was his dream car, classic rock on the stereo, the wind whistling through his hair, and a beautiful woman sitting beside him. That it was his partner was irrelevant. She didn't have to know she brought one of his fantasies to life, but while it was there, he was damn well going to enjoy it.
He leaned back into the soft leather seat, and enjoyed the rest of the ride to Emily's apartment. He enjoyed it so much, he drifted off to sleep.
"Matt…Matt," Emily nudged his shoulder.
"Huh?" He blinked awake and looked around.
"Past your bedtime?" She teased.
"Yeah, when you drank as much as I did." He noted that they were parked across the street of her apartment building.
"You're not sober enough to drive home, why don't you crash at my place tonight?"
"Are you coming on to me, Lehman?" He grinned.
"Sure, if you have the hots for my couch, cause that's where you're sleeping," she answered, pulling the keys from the ignition, and hoping out of the car.
"And here I thought I could get you to break a rule." Matt made his own attempt at getting out of the car, but had to hold onto the roof to steady himself.
"Alright, come on, lean on me," Emily instructed, leaning close to him.
Matt was going to protest and insist he was fine, but the minute he let go of the car, he stumbled. Rather than end up crawling across the street, he leaned on his partner, and together they made it across the road.
"Thank god my building has an elevator," Emily mumbled. She couldn't imagine struggling up stairs together, though maybe that would qualify as team building and save them from the Bureau's asinine seminars.
They made it into her apartment, and over to the couch, where Emily abruptly released her grip, and Matt fell into the sofa heavily.
"Mmm, comfy sofa," he said, burrowing into the cushions, oblivious that Emily had left the room. It was a good thing he hadn't tried to drive home, because he passed out in minutes.
Emily found him curled against the back of the couch, snoring softly. She smiled, and draped the blanket she'd collected over him. She had never seen Matt vulnerable, pissed, upset, hurt, but not vulnerable, like he was now. She stood and watched him for several minutes, before turning and heading off to her own bedroom.
After she'd changed, she had a second thought, and went into her kitchen. Two bottles of water from the fridge, and a handful of ibuprofen later, she set half her loot down on the coffee table, and put the other half on her nightstand. She'd wake up with a headache, but Matt would wake up feeling like a train drove over him.
She didn't let herself think too much about the fact that her partner and close friend was asleep in her living room. Those thoughts might take her to some scary places, so Emily simply shut off her bedside light, and burrowed into her own pillow, whispering one last little thought.
"Happy Birthday Matt."