He spins the wedding ring in his fingers, watching as Harry signals to Chas with a double thumbs up and an infectious grin that has him wanting to make good on his reaction to seeing the gold band shining at him from its place on her finger. In the week since he was originally meant to step up as best man for his friend and colleague, he's gone on the run, put his career and Harry's in jeopardy, broken into a bank, and not for the first time had his ass saved just in time by his partner. If ever he needed a wedding reception to be overflowing with champagne it's today.
"Come on." He's yanked hard out of his thoughts by Harry, her tone decisive, her hand grabbing his as she starts back towards her car. "I have your suit, we're going to my place to get changed. We're cutting it fine but we'll make it. There's no way you're showing up as the best man looking like that."
"Don't worry about it, Harry." If he's honest he'd forgotten the wedding was today. If he's really honest he didn't even know today was Saturday. He knows he's missed her though, knows that the snatched moments with her this week haven't been enough, could never be enough. If it weren't for the wedding today he'd gladly spend the rest of the weekend in her bed showing her just how much he's missed her. "Quick shower and a shave and I'll be back to my usual dashing self."
"Oh, I don't doubt it." Her hand rests on his thigh and when she moves it to start the car he misses her touch instantly.
At her house she ushers him upstairs and hangs his suit on the back of her bedroom door before she starts to undress, gesturing to him to do the same, her eyes roaming hungrily down his body as he does.
"Are you ogling me, Sergeant Makepeace?" He smirks at her and she steps closer, scooping up his shirt and dropping it into the laundry basket.
"As a matter of fact, Lieutenant Dempsey, I am, yes." She pulls her jumper over her head and throws it into the basket with his shirt, an action so simple yet so domestic that he feels his heart unexpectedly skip a beat at how much he likes the idea. "We're pushed for time so we're going to need to shower together, it's the only way."
She smirks and steps out of her trousers, throwing her underwear at the laundry basket, and grabbing his hand to pull him towards the bathroom. He can't take his eyes off her as she turns the shower on and follows him as he steps under it, her arms wrapping around him, her hands resting on his back.
"I missed you this week, Harry." He feels her hold on him tighten slightly and he pulls her against his chest, cradling her shoulder blades in his hands. "I really missed you."
"You know I would have let you stay here if I could, don't you?" She pulls back and looks up at him, reaching past him for the shampoo. "If it hadn't been the absolute first place I know they would have looked for you, I mean, I-"
"And you know I would never have put you in the firing line like that." He tilts her chin up towards him and kisses her, pulling back reluctantly, knowing they don't have time right now to do what he'd really like to.
"I know." She turns around and if he wasn't responsible for making sure the wedding rings reach the church today then the sight of her bare back, her perfect skin with its light smattering of freckles, even in January, would be enough to make him suggest they skip this wedding altogether. "Wash my hair, Dempsey."
She leaves him shaving and disappears back to the bedroom to dry her hair. In the mirror he sees a tired, roughened version of himself, the end product of a long and trying few days, days when in his darkest moments he feared he might never make it back to her. He would give anything to crawl into bed with her now, to reacquaint himself with her gentle curves as they fit so perfectly against him, and sleep until dinner, but he knows there's a wedding and a reception to get through before they can do that. The shave helps him to look more human again, the shower already helped him to feel it, and as he walks back into the bedroom, the sight of her is the cherry on the top. She's wearing a blue dress, probably in a shade that has a name, but all he knows is it matches her eyes. He thinks that should probably be a shade all of its own; Harry's Eyes. Her hair is pinned up, drawing his gaze straight to her neck, to the soft skin that he loves to touch, to taste.
"Ah, that's much better. You look like my Dempsey again rather than the 'bordering on homeless' Dempsey you've been leaning towards this week." She walks over to him and her hands move to his face, stroking softly across his freshly shaved skin as she smiles. He likes the determination in her eyes as she claims him as her Dempsey. "Come on, we need to get moving or we're going to be late, and I'm not sure poor Chas could handle yet another disastrous wedding attempt."
"Harry..." He drags her name slowly across his tongue, liking how it tastes, and he catches her wrist as she steps away, pulling her to him, an almost magnetic charge making it impossible to stop touching her.
"Here's what we're going to do. We're going to go to this wedding, you're going to be the sexy best man as I look on admiringly, then we're going to eat something at the reception, we're going to drink some champagne, and then..." She grins a little wider and squeezes his hand. "Then we're going to come back here and we're going to stay in bed for hours. How does that sound?"
"Like the best thing I've heard all week." He feels her hand slip from his and hears himself sigh as he finds himself wondering when he started to crave her touch the way he does almost constantly now.
He's not really a wedding kind of a guy, there are so many more enjoyable ways he can think of to spend an afternoon, but even he has to admit it's good to see Chas so happy, especially after the false start just a week ago. There's also a feeling he can't quite name that comes from seeing Harry looking suspiciously misty-eyed as the bride and groom exchange vows. He might not be able to name it but he doesn't want to run from it, and that alone feels pretty huge to him. Her hand slides into his as they sit together in the church and he can't hide his smile, the smile that only gets wider when she nudges his shoulder, presumably to let him know just how much he's smiling.
"You look beautiful today." He tells her as they sit down to eat because he can't remember if he did before they left her house even though he knows he thought it. "That colour looks good on you."
"Thank you." She arches an eyebrow but her pleasure at the compliment is clear in the faint flush of her cheeks. "So...do you have plans for tomorrow?"
"Well, I was hoping to spend it with you." He leans in, his shoulder brushing against her, his eyes drawn to the sparkle in hers. "I thought we could make up for this past week. Stay in bed, eat breakfast, stay in bed some more…"
"Are you going to make pancakes for me?" He knows she'd deny it if asked but he's pretty damn sure she's fluttering her lashes at him right now. "That was a hidden skill of yours that came as a really nice surprise."
"Oh, I have a lot more hidden skills where that one came from, Harry." He grins at her and reaches under the table, tangling his fingers in hers, watching as a hint of a smile threatens her lips. "You just wait and see."
"It's nice, isn't it? To see Chas so happy." She looks over at where Chas is chatting to one of the guests, his arms tightly around his new wife, big, happy smiles on both of their faces. "I know you're a wedding cynic, Dempsey, but even you must be able to see that."
"Yeah, I see it. Chas is a good guy, I'm glad it worked out for them." He squeezes her fingers, dragging their joined hands into his lap and smiling when she looks at him. "I'm not a total wedding cynic. I can see why someone might want to keep hold of their perfect person when they find them."
"Me too." She says nothing more but she holds his gaze for a long few seconds before eventually looking away. "I need to run to the bathroom."
"I'll get some drinks." He stands up, keeping close to her even though her hand is no longer in his, and he heads for the bar, watching her as she crosses the room.
"Hi." He's leaning on the bar when the brunette comes to stand next to him, and she isn't familiar so he guesses she's a friend of the bride. "You work with Chas, don't you?"
"Yep, sure do." He nods, smiling politely at her, thinking he probably would have thought she was pretty cute before Harry started filling his every thought, in the days before she somehow became the only one that matters.
"Ah, you're the American!" She smiles and edges closer to him, pushing her long dark hair back over her shoulder.
"Guilty as charged." He doesn't want to seem rude but he also doesn't want to give her the impression he's interested in anything more than getting something to drink for him and his...well, for him and Harry. "Been over here a couple of years now though...a beer and a white wine, please. Can I get you a drink?"
"Red wine would be lovely, thanks." She rests her hand on his arm and smiles, her smile fading slightly as he moves his arm out from under her touch. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Harry walking towards the bar and he smiles as she sidles up next to him.
"White wine okay, princess?" He tries to hide his surprise when her hand slides onto the bar to take hold of his, and he has to bite back a smile when she fixes her stare firmly on the woman next to him.
"Perfect." She holds the other woman's gaze for another few seconds, enough for her to realise she may as well take her leave.
"Thanks for the drink." Holding up her red wine, the brunette nods and turns away.
"Everything okay?" He raises an eyebrow, close to mentioning the way he can feel her bristling beside him but opting to wait for her response.
"Fine." She nods but won't look at him, instead taking a sip of her wine followed by a long sigh. Her hand is still resting on his and he takes some hope from that. "I'm sorry if I interrupted something. I didn't quite realise my leaving the room for a whole three minutes would leave you so bored you'd have to start buying drinks for other women."
"Then maybe you shouldn't leave again." He leans closer and her faint scowl is betrayed by the way her eyes flicker down to his lips before she drags her gaze higher. "I like it when you get territorial, Harry. It's sexy."
"No, it's not, it's…" She bites her lip and if they were somewhere else, somewhere without their boss and most of their colleagues, he would slide his thumb across her mouth to gently free it from the hold her teeth have on it. "I hate myself for doing that, I don't want to be one of those women, I don't want you to think you can't talk to anyone else, or-"
"Or what?" Maybe he's not clear enough about what she is to him, or maybe he is and she's just not listening; either way, he's going to head this off right now. "She said hi to me at the bar, I ordered drinks for you and me, and she was waiting too so I was being polite, that's all."
"I'm not blind, Dempsey, she was looking at you like she already knew which flavour jam she was planning to spread on you for breakfast." He wonders if she's aware of tightening her grip on his hand as she talks.
"Hey, I can't help it if I look good in a suit, babe. I'm not blind either, Harry, I know when a woman is coming onto me but it doesn't mean I'm interested." She's the only one he wants, has been for what feels like half his damn life, and he thought she knew that. "Nobody gets me for breakfast except the beautiful blonde in the dress that matches her eyes, and if the chick at the bar had put the moves on me I would have told her that."
"You do look very sexy in a suit." She leans closer and smiles, but he sees something behind it, something uncertain in her eyes. "I don't know if you know this, maybe not...sometimes I'm too direct, sometimes not direct enough and maybe I don't say what I want enough, maybe I pretend that I don't want what I really do want..."
"So tell me now." He gives into the urge this time and runs his thumb across her bottom lip as her teeth take it in their hold again. "What do you want?"
"I want to be more than a fling, Dempsey."
"Whoa, Harry. You and me have been a different kind of you and me now for three months, two weeks, and...four days. You, honey, could never be a fling. Okay...come on." He takes her hand and he doesn't care who sees, all he cares about in this moment is her, is finding somewhere away from the noisy bar, away from the possibly prying eyes of their colleagues. "I need to tell you something."
She lets him lead her from the bar, their barely touched drinks abandoned in his need to talk to her and her apparent desire to hear what he has to say. He heads towards a quiet corner of the room, her hand staying firmly in his as they weave through the other wedding guests, and he smiles at the people they know but refuses to let himself be derailed by them.
"Three months, two weeks, and four days? Have you been keeping a tally, Dempsey?" Her tone is teasing as she leans against the wall but there's a look in her eyes that tells him it wasn't what she expected to hear, and he likes that. He likes that he's comfortable revealing his feelings to her a little more with each day and he loves being able to surprise her.
"Well, you're making it sound like I have a chart on the wall." He grins at her and she steps closer to him, her eyes big and blue and threatening to knock him off his damn feet. "I just... I don't forget the good stuff, princess."
"Is that me, the good stuff?" There's no teasing in her voice now, it's an honest question that he thinks she already knows the answer to, but that he's happy to confirm.
"Yeah, that's you." Her hand is still in his and he squeezes it a little tighter and smiles at her. "Do you remember there was one night last week when I went back to my place? I thought maybe I should give you some space so you didn't get tired of me, but here's the thing, Harry...I hated it. From the minute I walked through the door I wished I was back with you. I have a toothbrush in your bathroom, you have shampoo in mine. Does any of that sound like a fling to you?"
"Fling was the wrong word, I'm sorry. I just meant...you know, I don't actually know what I meant." She sighs and he finds himself reaching for a piece of hair making a bid for freedom from its many pins, and he curls it slowly around his finger, waiting for her to go on, watching as a trace of a smirk tickles her lips. "I hated it too, and I didn't need space that night. I don't need space, not from you. Not when we're away from work anyway."
"I still drive you crazy at work?" He knows he does sometimes. His methods are never going to be hers but their ability to agree to disagree has definitely improved. "Good to know I haven't totally lost my touch."
"No, believe me, your touch is just fine." The smirk reaches full bloom and he grins at her.
"So...the other day you said something about me eventually going back to New York and leaving you behind with all my crap, and I was going to tell you something but then everything went to hell with Lacey and I didn't get a chance." She smiles as his finger slides from her hair and drifts across her cheekbone. "After we got Coltrane, I knew there was a chance the NYPD might think it was time they called me back in."
"Dempsey…" She looks suddenly worried and he steps closer, wanting to wrap his arms around her in reassurance but knowing they're in a room with their colleagues and really not knowing if she would welcome a display quite so obvious.
"It's nothing bad. Well, I don't think it's bad. I filed an application last week with the Home Office to make this transfer permanent, I even managed to get Spikings to write me a character reference. Caught him on a good day, I guess." He smiles as her worried expression lifts and what he's telling her starts to sink in. "I want to stay, Harry."
"You know, for one horrible moment I thought you were about to tell me you were going back." She gives him a smile filled with relief, one that makes him feel brave and hopeful, and all the things that come naturally to him when she smiles at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to but then the week sort of spiralled out of control." He can't resist touching her any longer, his hand reaches for her almost unconsciously, his fingers trailing tenderly down the side of her neck. "You know, most of SI10 is here tonight, the boss too."
"I know." She leans into his touch, her skin warm and soft under his fingertips, and the sigh she lets out sends a bolt of electricity to his core. It hits him then like a hammer, an epiphany, really; he loves her, he just...loves her. "So?"
"So it probably wouldn't be a smart idea to kiss you right now, would it?" He moves his hand from her neck to her waist, his fingers curling into the blue satin of her dress.
"It would probably be a terrible idea. Unprofessional, risky...we run the risk of smashing this little secret of ours to smithereens." She shoots a glance quickly over his shoulder before sliding her hands up to rest on his chest and lowering her voice. "But lately I've been thinking we might not be quite as good at hiding things as we think."
"You don't think that's kind of worrying for two undercover detectives, Harry?" He's joking but he thinks she's probably right, she usually is when it comes to this kind of stuff.
"I'm not worried, Dempsey. I'm the best detective Spikings has and on a good day you're almost certainly his second best, so…" There's a glint in her eyes that he loves, it's the one that screams reckless abandon to him, and it's as sexy as hell. "So to hell with it, I think you should kiss me."
"You do?" There she goes, always able to take him by surprise, always reminding him to expect the unexpected.
"Well, I'm almost certain you haven't applied to stay in this country because you've suddenly decided you enjoy the weather, or realised you've been saying aluminium wrong your entire life…" She grins and he lets that one go, purely because he can feel her fingertips slipping just inside his shirt and it's stealing his ability to think. "So if I'm the reason you want to stay, then pennies will start dropping all over the department that we're...more than partners, so yes, I think you should kiss me."
He's never the sensible one but for just a second he considers not kissing her, he contemplates telling her she doesn't have to do this here, with the people they work with, just to prove a point.
"Harry, if you don't want people to know, we can wait and do a whole bunch of kissing when we get out of here." He wants nothing more than to kiss her, for her to know how he feels, to put the rumours to rest in the best possible way. "Look, I'm happy to wear a t-shirt telling everyone we're together, but if you're not then that's okay."
"I do think a t-shirt might be a step too far." She smiles at him and there isn't a hint of doubt in her eyes as she leans in. "Perhaps we could start with a baseball cap, something a little more subtle."
"That could work." He's so close to her now that he can feel her breath, the warmth of her lips about to touch his, and decides this call is hers. "Kiss me, beautiful."