Chapter 12: Flexing Testosterone

January 26, 1991

"I wanna see! I wanna see, Da!" Olivia demanded excitedly, grasping the edge of the kitchen island and hopping up and down, trying to see over the edge. Remington smiled down at the exuberant three-year old and easily lifted her up to perch on the counter, much as her mother still often did during meal preparations.

"There you are, Livvie Bee." He gave her the once over, then tapped her on her nose, evoking a giggle from the little girl. "Now, if I recall, weren't you to be getting ready for Mommy's party, weren't you?" Olivia crossed her arms, lifted her chin and scowled – an affectation much like her mother's.

"Thea Lina's mean!" she declared, drawing out the last word to emphasize the fact. He smiled indulgently, his hands never missing a beat as he continued to slice the tomato before him. These days, anytime an adult didn't cede immediately to his young daughter's strong will, they were deemed to be 'mean.'

"Oh? And what is it that Thea Lina's done this time, hmmm?" he inquired.

"I won't allow her to wear her bikini to the party," Melina supplied the answer, as she entered the kitchen in search of her runaway niece. She ignored the tongue the little girl stuck out at her, and snitched a slice of tomato, taking a bite. He playfully smacked at her hand.

"Between you and Laura, it's a wonder I ever get enough food prepped to make a meal," he groused lightly, before turning his attention to his daughter. "It's far too cool out to be wearing your swimsuit, mo stór." He lifted a brow at her. "Mommy would be terribly upset if you were to catch a cold on account of her birthday. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" Olivia's eyes widened.

"That would make Mommy sad," she accessed, accurately. He nodded his agreement as he reached for the next tomato.

"That it would," he agreed, solemnly. "So how 'bout you go back up to your room with Thea Lina and let her help you put on the dress and tights you and I picked out, just for Mommy's birthday, eh?" She nodded eagerly, then waited as he wiped his hands on his apron, before picking her up and setting her back down on her feet.

"C'mon, Thea Lina," she called behind her, as she skipped across the dining room towards the living room.

"Quietly," he admonished. "Mommy's asleep and we don't want to wake her. She needs her rest!" With a smile at her big brother, Melina left to give chase to the little whirlwind, while he returned to the task at hand.

Laura would turn thirty-five on Monday, and in honor of that milestone, they were hosting a barbeque, an occasion she wasn't particularly looking forward to.

"I don't want a party," she'd retorted peevishly, crossing her arms and tipping up her chin. "I just want a quiet night at home with my family, is that too much to ask?"

"Well, yes. Yes, it is," he'd answered. "There's been far too much whispering going on between Mildred and Bernice, too many sudden silences when one or the other of us walk into a room when they're left alone together. The simple fact is, either we make an announcement, and quickly, that we're hosting a birthday affair of our own, or you can reconcile yourself to the fact there is a surprise party awaiting you in the near future."

Well, with those as the only choices at her disposal, she'd opted for the former, with the codicil that their celebration be a barbeque – a good, old fashioned, American, barbeque. In January. No small amount of punishing the messenger in that, for certain, as barbeques on fine summer days were all good and well, but in the middle of the winter? Thankfully, today the high was near eighty, which meant it wouldn't dip too far down into the sixties before the end of the gathering. Not warm enough to swim, certainly, but not so cold as to bring back memories of the winter nights of his youth, either.

Finished slicing the tomatoes, he set the platter in the refrigerator, then cleaned knife and counters, before journeying upstairs to wake his bride. The soft murmuring coming from Olivia's room, served as a reminder of all the changes they'd faced the last six months, with yet more to come.

Melina had arrived two days after Christmas, quite unexpectedly, having run away from home as it were… well, if a woman approaching thirty could do such a thing. Nevertheless, there she had stood on their front doorstep, bags in hand, asking if she might stay a spell… then had hidden away in the guest bedroom for two full days, before Laura had managed to pry her out of the room then finesse from her the story of what had brought her there. After nearly three years of dating Giorgos Demetriou and six months speaking of marriage and a future together, she'd been expecting to announce an engagement over Christmas. Instead, she found herself firmly dumped.

"He… he… he said," she stumbled around her tears, "Maybe our age difference was just too much. That.. that… he was ready to settle down. That he'd grown weary of travel. That… that… I wasn't prepared to be wi… wife and mother. I'm… I'm… too loud, too outspoken, too… too free… free-spirited, too… flighty, not… not serious enough. He… he needs someone more sen… sensible, dependable, who… who he wouldn't have to worry might em… em… embarrass him," she wailed the last.

He'd heard the whole of it from the kitchen, having kept his ear peeled, so to speak, and saw red. It was Wilson and Laura all over again. The time invested. The belief she'd been loved. The expectations of a future. Only to see it all end, while the one walking away made it clear, 'it's not me, but you.' He once again thanked the stars above for the Androkus family, for at least Lina came from a firm foundation, had not been already left injured by the very person that should have protected her absolutely.

So, a month later, here she remained, uncertain of where her future lay, but needing time and distance to figure things out.

An additional person in the household wasn't the only change, for the Agency was undergoing a transformation once again. Brandon, Zack and Marvin had completed their licensure requirements over the summer, and were now fully-fledged investigators. While licensing had opened a door of opportunity for them to work anywhere they wished, even to start their own Agency, all three men were uninterested in moving on, enjoying their job, their bosses and the family like atmosphere. With a salary adjustment to reflect their new positions in the Agency, Marvin and Zack moved out of the Agency owned condos and into a place of their own. The situation was far more complicated for Brandon. His mother had succumbed to pneumonia, an offshoot of the AIDS she'd contracted years prior, leaving him to finish raising his baby sister, Kaya. He was loathe to uproot her in the same year span when she'd lost her mother, and had negotiated a long-term lease with Remington, paying fair market value in rent.

Demand for the Agency's services had only increased across the years and the workload had once again moved from manageable to weighty, with the entire staff, including the owners, working well past closing time most evenings. This meant on several evenings a week, Olivia would be there from the time she woke until the time she went to bed, a simply unacceptable situation in both her parents' eyes. She needed quality time with them, her routine. While there was much they were willing to sacrifice for the Agency they'd painstakingly built, what was best for their daughter was not amongst those things.

Thus, this past August they'd hired three new apprentices, and much to Laura's delight, two of those investigators-in-training were women.

Kiara Warmack had graduated from UCLA two years prior with a degree in criminal justice, much like Zack, and had considered, for a time, joining the LAPD. But growing up in East Compton as she had, there was an innate distrust with law enforcement, yet she still wished to serve the greater good, in honor of her brother Rudy – the young man killed in Remington's hallway during the Shane case. She had come to the Agency by way of recommendation from Monroe and the Steele's had been instantly impressed by her forthrightness, resiliency and icy calm demeanor. She'd been assigned to partner with Zack, initially, working primarily on the investigative side.

Of course, the fact Kiara was a UCLA alum had left Laura mumbling about damned Bruins outnumbering Cardinals in her own Agency.

Briana "BB" Bishop was a tall, blonde, voluptuous, sloe-eyed blonde, whom at one time would have left Laura feeling simultaneously insecure and threatened, as the woman was the epitome of what was formerly Remington's 'type'... well, except for the fact she wasn't vacuous, as many of the women who'd come through the office those first weeks had been. Remarkably secure in her husband's devotion, she'd never batted an eye, although she had allowed herself a moment of revelry when the woman's resume announced she'd graduated from Stanford where she'd majored in Mathematics… and then had stopped to groan when she'd read the woman's minor: Film and media studies. Damn, damn and double damn. Another film buff in the Agency? One is too many most days, she'd silently lamented to herself. During her interview, BB had reluctantly confessed to being a single parent to a six-year-old boy named Nathan, whom she'd had right after her Freshman year. Too often in the past she'd found that if she managed to overcome the strikes of being a woman, and a beautiful one that most wives wouldn't want working with their husband morning and night, then the news she was a single mother was the death knell. The only altering of the Steele's perspective was a note scribbled on a pad which stated: Minimum two bedrooms. School district? He'd be house hunting again as their only associate dedicated property which was suitable for a family was being retained by Brandon. BB's assignment was a natural outcome of her education: she would work with Marvin and Mildred in the white-collar crimes leg of the Agency.

Finally, there was Thomas Celek. Thirty years old, much like Remington himself was when he'd arrived at the Agency, Celek stood at six-four and while slim, there was a definition to his muscles that was undeniable. With wavy brown hair, brown eyes, deeply tanned skin and sporting a mustache, as he'd entered Remington's office, Laura and Bernice had shared a glance of unhidden appreciation, much as they had when Ben Pierson arrived at the Agency nearly nine years before and faux-fanned themselves after his departure.

"Tom Celek, indeed," Laura mused, when the man was no longer in sight in the hallway.

"Oh, yeah," her friend and secretary all but purred. "All that's missing is the Ferrari and house on Oahu. If I weren't married…"

"Don't you know it," Laura agreed.

Remington, having observed the look shared between his wife and Mrs. Wolf at Celek's arrival, was instantly on guard. A fact Laura had found amusing until…

"I'd like you to meet my wife, Laura Steele." At that, the icy calm mask was put firmly in place as her temper soared.

Celek, in part due to his age, arrived with a much more diverse resume than their other two new hires. He'd attended Penn State on a full football scholarship, where he was part of the 1982 national championship team. He'd left college after his junior year, having declared for the NFL draft, and was selected second round by the Miami Dolphins. After three seasons, ending his career with the San Francisco 49'ers, he'd parted ways with football once and for all. He returned to college, earning a Bachelor's Degree in Rehabilitation and Human Services, then followed that with a three year stint as a Social Worker, a job in which he often saw the worst of humanity and was left feeling helpless, as the law so often bound his hands preventing him from truly affecting change. So, he changed what he could, instead: his career. To him, becoming a P.I. would allow him to stop the injury to another person before it happened, or would permit him to give justice a helping hand after it had.

Laura had hired him on the spot, for which she received a scathing look from her partner that she easily interpreted as 'what happened to us deciding these matters together?'

After seeing Celek out and exchanging those brief words with Bernice, she winced but otherwise ignored the resounding slam of Remington's door, as she stepped into Mildred's office where Olivia was sitting in a chair across from her 'Auntie', elevated by a stack of phone books beneath her, coloring on the paper she'd been provided. Seeing her mother enter the office, she waved her hand then returned to her coloring.

"Mildred, would you mind keeping her with you for a bit longer? Mr. Steele and I need to have a word… alone." The older woman gave her a knowing look, quickly picking up on the way she'd said the Boss's name, that it would be far more than 'just a word.'

"Sure, honey. I don't think she's quite finished with my picture yet anyway." Nodding, Laura stooped down next to Olivia chair so she was on eye level with her little girl.

"Livvie, Mommy has just a couple more things to take care of, then I was thinking maybe you and I would take our lunch outside and eat it by the fountain. What do you think?"

"Will you bring pennies?" Laura laughed softly at the question.

"A whole handful, I promise," she vowed.

"Okay, Mommy." Pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead, she stood and left the office, closing the door behind her, lest she hear what was to come.

She dropped all pretense of a sunny demeanor behind as she stomped across the reception area and into Remington's office and slammed the door behind her. He visibly jumped from where he was sitting at his desk, cheek resting against a fisted hand, clearly pouting.

"Would you mind telling me what that was about!?" she demanded to know.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. I thought we were part—" She waved her hand dismissively and cut him off.

"I mean the way you introduced me to Celek!" He gave thought to pretending to have no idea what she was speaking about, but dismissed the idea. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach.

"You're Laura Steele, are you not? Or have you suddenly been inspired to revert back to Laura Holt?" Her lips part in shock at that. "And, the last time I checked, you are my wife. Is there a particular reason we shouldn't disclose that?" Her jaw slackened and her mouth fell open. Thoroughly stupefied, it took her a long second to gather her wits.

"You've lost your mind," she surmised incredulously, shaking her head and flicking a hand in his general direction. Standing, he rounded the desk and leaned his backside against it, crossing his arms and assessing her at length.

"Have I?" he challenged.

"Yes!" she answered without hesitation.

"I would disagree. I'd say my sanity is as sound as my eyesight is sharp and my hearing is keen." She lifted her face to the ceiling and forced herself to count to ten. One…Two…

"Oh, for God's—" she left the last unspoken, her voice rising with the next. "I admired an attractive man. So, what!?" She flung out her arms for emphasis. "How often do you admire a woman's breasts, her figure, her backside, when you're with me? How often do you flirt with other women when I'm standing right there? When you do, do you see me acting like an adolescent about it?! No! You don't. Look, don't touch, isn't that the general rule of thumb in an adult relationship?"

"I see. So the fact my wife is attracted to another man should be of no concern to me at all then?" he challenged. "Good to know. Then I shan't have to worry you'll be put out over my attraction to Miss Bishop." He gesticulated with his hand. "Goose, gander and all that, hmmm?" He knew when he saw the flash of hurt cross her face to be replaced by the implacable mask she wore to protect herself that he'd gone too far.

Without a word, Laura crossed his office and opened the door to their adjoining break room and the nursery. Fishing through the small fridge kept there, she removed Olivia's lunch, then retrieved her purse from her own office. His brows drew together questioningly. When she disappeared from view and he heard the soft click of her door as it shut, he drew a hand through his hair.

She'd arrived home with Olivia that evening in time for supper. She was cordial for their daughter's sake, almost excessively so, and they'd carried out Olivia's bedtime ritual together, as they always did. But when they shut her door until it only remained a crack, Laura turned towards their bedroom, instead of towards the staircase as was their habit.

"Laura—" he began only for her to shake her head without turning around and cutting him off.

"I can't talk to you right now. I'm going to take a bath."

"Would you like some company?" The response had been automatic, after many years of such an exchange and their mutual enjoyment of relaxing together in a hot tub as the water roiled around them.

"Love some," she replied still not looking at him. Nonetheless his lips lifted in a smile, believing he'd been forgiven, until she added, "But I doubt Celek could be here before the bathwater cools." He winced and stumbled to a stop. Clearly, forgiveness was not yet in the offing, confirmed when she came downstairs an hour later into his screening room, wordlessly dropping pillow and blanket on the couch next to him, then retreating back upstairs. He spent two nights on that couch and two days not hearing her lovely voice unless it was in the course of work or to continue the farce of marital harmony in front of their little girl. By the time the sun had sank on the horizon of the third night, he'd accepted only genuine repentance would heal the rift between them.

"Laura, I'm sorry," he told her quietly, hovering in the doorway to their room. She stilled, back to him, from where she was putting away laundry in her dresser.

"Oh, and what exactly are you sorry for?" she asked, voice as unemotional as if she were asking about the weather.

"Laura." Just her name, uttered with considerable difficulty. She turned around, crossed her arms.

"You were jealous." Despite the accusation, her tone remained unchanged. Now he did face her, to give her a pained looked. "Do you know what the problem is with jealousy, Remington? It indicates a lack of trust—" Alarmed blue eyes flew to her.

"Laura, I—" She held up a hand and cut him off.

"No! I think you've said enough, don't you?" She lost the icy calm rein over her emotions, her voice crackling with anger. "The only reason Celek could possibly be a threat to you is because on some level you believe I might respond to any advances that he might be foolish enough to make, and that's assuming he's even remotely attracted to me!"

"That has nothing, whatsoever, to do with it!" he denied.

"Doesn't it? You said as much in your office! Then to bring BB into it?" she continued as though he'd never spoken. "How am I supposed to work with the woman after my husband has openly admitted he's lusting after her?" He visibly flinched at the question. "I accepted long ago that you're an insatiable flirt, and have even accepted you probably don't realize exactly how much so you are," she barreled on with a shake of her head and a wave of her arm. "'Laura,' I'd say to myself, 'You're an adult. It's you he's leaving with, that's all that matters.' But I've never had to work with one of those women day-in-and-day-out, wondering if you were admiring the particular cut of a certain blouse, fantasizing about…" She lifted her head to the ceiling and rubbed at her brow. He took several steps towards her, held out a beseeching hand towards her.

"Laura, I lied about the woman,'" he confessed. "I'm no more attracted to her than I am Mildred." She shook her head, never lowering it.

"Did you?' she asked wearily. That day in the office, he'd managed to revive all the insecurities she'd believed had been banished once and for all. She he wasn't his type. Eventually he'd grow bored with her. With their life. He'd seek new amusements. Eventually that old wanderlust would grip him. Then one day she'd come home and find him gone, his closets empty. "She's your type. Far more than I ever was," she said, giving those fears voice. "I can't help wondering…." She shook her head, and finally looked at him. His knees nearly buckled at seeing her eyes filled with the doubts, the fears, that he hadn't seen there in years now. Then, in a flash, she sealed herself off from him, her eyes sparking with anger again. "Do I need to be worried here, Remington? Just tell me that! Are you having second thoughts about us, this life, even as we're planning a second child?! Because I don't have it in me to explain to one child why her father disappeared, let alone two!"

He could only stare at her, as his own emotions tumbled about, collided, having no idea which matter to address first. His throat tightened, then it began. A chuckle at first – perhaps an innate attempt to relieve the tension within him. But a scant second later, he was laughing deeply, and pulling her into his arms. She struggled against him briefly, not understanding what was going on.

"Laura, only your magnificent mind could go from my being insanely jealous over your admiration for another man, to me leaving you." She managed to get her hands between them and shove him away.

"It's not funny," she retorted, dropping her hands onto her hips and holding elbows akimbo.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He held up a hand, forcing himself to be serious. "It bears repeating; I'm not attracted to Ms. Bishop, even a little bit. What I said was no more than a bit of perverted tit-for-tat," he explained. She crossed her arms, and with a shake of her head, averted her face, unconvinced. 'The only woman that is the star of my fantasies, and has been for eight years now, is a petite brunette, with a fiery temper and wild imagination. Further, I'm not in the least concerned that you'll be unfaithful. I do not care, however, to spend the next however many years watching you admire him, or he you. As you so aptly put it, I don't wish to wonder if you are admiring a particular cut of a jacket, if you are fantasizing—"

"It was an observation, a bit of womanly bonding between Bernice and I," she informed him. "Nothing more than we did when you first—" She stopped speaking mid-sentence, understanding dawning. He nodded at her.

"Precisely." He took several steps away, tugging at his ear. "I haven't had to compete for your admiration for going on eight years now, at least within the walls of the Agency." She winced, his comment inadvertently bringing up memories of those days after the INS. "And I don't wish to now. No more than I would want to here at home. So, yes, I broke our agreement on how you'd be viewed at the Agency, but there are simply times you need to allow me to be a man." Understanding dawned, and her lips twitched with amusement.

"Flex your testosterone. Mark your territory, so to speak?" she offered.

"Well, yes," he drew out to the second word for emphasis. "The man certainly knows where matters stand, as I've made it clear." He lifted a brow towards her. "Much the same as you would've made it known to Ms. Bishop had I expressed the slightest bit of interest, or her me."

"I understand," she informed him quietly, this time approaching him and willingly going into the embrace he offered. He wrapped his arms around her, and nuzzled his cheek against her hair.

"Are we alright, then?" he wondered, seeking assurance. She tipped back her head, allowed him to see a pair of brown eyes in which the doubt, the fear, had been replaced by the confidence which had warmed his heart these last years.

"We're are, Mr. Steele." She pressed up on her toes, brushing her lips against his, then teasing his lips, until she felt those lips beneath hers lift in a smile, and a hand bury itself in her hair, pressing her closer, as he recognized her desire to mark some territory of her own.