March 18th Contd…

11:37pm

Not quite sure that cheerleading uniform is the best outfit to go to the pub in, especially not around increasingly intoxicated colleagues who bet each other the next round who can get an eyeful up my skirt.

Though, problem solved by sitting on a particular Sergeants lap for a lot of the evening. Yes dear diary, you heard…read…whatever correctly, I spent the majority of the night in the lap of Sergeant Dale Smith! Furthermore, it wasn't actually my choice (not that I'd have said no…)

It started with Mickey attempting to lift the back of the skirt, resulting in him receiving a slap, closely followed by Rob who tried his luck where Mickey had failed. In my defence, I hadn't actually slapped Rob that hard, if he hadn't leant forward, it wouldn't have stung so much, so he deserved it…

Still, it was my turn to by the man of the match a drink, I duly stepped up to the bar and carried his pint over, Dan reaching out to my skirt as I stood beside Smithy. Smithy glared at him, probably because it obstructed his reach to the glass and slapped his hand down, one arm curling around my waist as it guided me to his lap, stopping any more skirt mishaps. I giggled like my inner school girl and draped an arm around his neck, glad I'd brought my own drink over too, a perfect prop to give vital thinking time should any uncomfortable silences arise.

"Get the bloody hint." Smithy growled at Mickey as he passed the table. Mickey scowled down at Smithy, obviously suppressing some comment, probably about 'seeing it all before' knowing the pervert he is. Smithy really didn't have to take defending my skirts honour that seriously, but still, it was sweet he did.

The night was surprisingly easy, conversation flowed around the group, the CID team begrudgingly joining the Uniform one as the night progressed, Mickey accusing me of fraternising with the enemy when he followed me to the bar.

"You don't have to worry." I sighed, "I'm just-"

"He's only doing it so he can see down your top!"

"Like you?" I scowled, tilting Mickey's chin up so he wasn't talking to my breasts. "So what if he is? He can discuss the whole of war and peace with my tits if he likes, for the first time he's talking to me, not some bint who's hanging off his arm!" I frowned, "I thought you'd be pleased for me!"

"I am!" Mickey insisted, "I just…he's not right for you!"

"Let me find that out!" I turned, carrying the drinks back over to Smithy, unable to hide my grin as he lifted his hand from his knee and looked up from his conversation with Dan and Terry, automatically assuming that I was going to sit on his knee again. Well…it'd be rude to refuse wouldn't it…

19th March 2005

Weigh: 8st 11lb, Cigarettes: 3 (haven't really been able to stop grinning long enough to light one), grins from Super!Sarge: 6, including one with an eyebrow wriggle, times caught self grinning dopily: Too many to count.

Today's been slightly…odd. It appears that after leaving the pub with Smithy last night and going for a kebab, most of the station think we spent the night together.

Whilst the idea isn't in the slightest horrifying, in fact, it's more than a little intriguing and one I'd happily investigate further, it isn't true.

We left the pub as the others continued drinking, both of us having to be at work the next day. "You going straight home?" Smithy asked quietly as we walked along the high street. I shrugged, not about to pass up on the opportunity to spend quality time with Super!Sarge.

"Nothing planned…" I smiled.

"Fancy something to eat?" He smiled and lifted his jacket from his arm, draping it around my shoulders.

"…Sure."

We turned the corner, heading up to the classiest kebab joint in Sun Hill: Abra-kebab-ra. When a man can make eating animal eyebrows look sexy, that's when you know its love. We talked and drifted in the direction of my house, pausing outside the door with half eaten kebabs. "Drink?"

"You twisted my arm." He grinned and nodded, holding my kebab as I opened the door, letting us both in. "Nice place…"

"Have you not been in yet?" I grinned and shrugged, grateful for the fact Mickey was still at the pub and wasn't due back for a while yet.

Smithy shook his head and shrugged, following me into the kitchen. "Chaz-." He trailed off and shook his head. "Don't matter."

I turned and smiled up at him, passing him a can of lager. "Something up?"

"Nah, I just…" He cleared his throat and opened the can. "What time you in tomorrow?"

"6…" I cringed, looking at the time.

"Same." He frowned at the clock, "Will have to get off soon…"

"Why don't you stay here?"

...Even I was taken aback by my forwardness.

"I mean, we could share a taxi in the morning, it'd be stupid you going home for just a couple of hours…there's a bedroom upstairs…a spare one I mean…" I rambled, kicking myself.

"You sure Mickey-"

"He won't even know." I shook my head. "He'll come in, crawl upstairs and slump over his bed."

"If you're sure…?"

"Course." I smiled and nodded, finishing the kebab as I bundled the rest into the bin, "I'll just go sort out the spare room…"

Once I'd left the room, I fought to keep my grin under control, checking the duvet and sheets in the room, oblivious to Smithy standing in the doorway as I turned. "All done."

"Thanks." He smiled a little. "I really appreciate it…"

"Any time.

So the next morning, after Mickey's panic about "There's a Sergeant in the kitchen!", we shared the taxi and set about work. …After he kissed my cheek.