It's not often his first thoughts in the morning are of the Christmases of his childhood, but it's the first thing that pops into his mind today. He remembers the feeling of success if he was the first of the kids to wake up, the first one down the stairs, the one who got the first confirmation that Santa had shown up, the evidence right there in the shiny presents on the living room floor. He feels the same way when he wakes up before Harry and he gets to watch her, his own perfect gift, lying next to him and oblivious to him gazing at her like she's the Matchbox cars that an eight-year-old Dempsey had begged Santa for.

He loves to watch her when she's completely unguarded in sleep, her face free of makeup, her uncovered freckles making her look younger and more relaxed, and usually either the tiniest of frowns or the sweetest hint of a smile on her face. This morning it's the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth, there isn't a single sign of a frown. His thoughts drift back to the day before, a day that started with her dragging him to safety and ended with her kissing him at Chas's wedding, her resolve to keep their relationship secret crumbling in a heated crescendo of having spent a week apart. She said she suspected everyone knew about them anyway, he realised she was probably right. He told her he'd applied to stay in London, she realised she was the reason. He realised he was in love with her, he isn't sure if she knows that.

Something about the way it hit him like a truck makes him smile, a smile that widens when he feels none of the fear or the panic that he expected might come with a realisation that big. He's not a believer in fate, thinks it's mostly bullshit, but he feels a sense of complete and absolute inevitability about the two of them and if that's not fate then he's not sure what is. On paper they're a disaster, their differences the size of oceans, their similarities mere puddles, but it works, they work. He knew it would from the moment he heard 'I care about you, Dempsey' fall from her lips; her gun steady in her hands as she fixed her stare firmly on him, her eyes blazing, her words filled with an underlying promise of more. He didn't doubt for a second she meant it when she said she'd shoot him so he saw no reason to question that she cared either.

She sighs beside him, shifting slightly, and the sheet slips lower down her body. His eyes follow it and his gaze lands on her collarbone, the urge to lean in and run his tongue across it almost uncontrollable. He can't ever get enough of how she tastes, of how soft her skin feels under his touch, and the sounds she makes when his mouth is on her body are often the reason he makes it through the day in one piece. It's like she's his mantra, his affirmation, the phrase on repeat that guarantees his sanity, validates his purpose.

There's at least one moment of every work day that he wants to reach for her when he knows he shouldn't, at least one morning each week when he wants to suggest they call in sick and stay in bed. Lately he sees the temptation to agree with him dancing in her eyes as carefree Harry battles with sensible Harry, and he knows one of these mornings carefree Harry will win.

"What are you thinking about?" Her eyes are open and she's blinking slowly as the budding smile on her lips blooms fully, the only burst of sunshine he needs on this January morning.

"Matchbox cars, Christmas presents, the wedding yesterday, your smile, fate…" He returns her smile, notes the intrigued look in her eyes. "Running my tongue across your collarbone and listening to that sexy little giggle of yours."

"I really thought you were just going to say you were thinking about breakfast." She grins and he thinks he probably could have included that on his list too.

"Ah, I promised you pancakes, didn't I?" He has some recollection of her saying she wanted to do nothing more than bed, breakfast, and more bed today, and it still sounds like a good plan.

"Mm, yes you did." She reaches for him and her fingers move down the side of his face as she smiles. "Not just yet though, I don't want to move yet."

"Whatever you want, baby." He means it too. If she told him she wanted freshly caught salmon for breakfast he'd be halfway to Scotland as fast as his car could manage.

"Fate, Dempsey?" Ah, so she was listening to his random list of thoughts. "I would never have thought that was your sort of belief system."

"It's not. I think it's bullshit, mostly, but you and me, Harry...you don't think fate must have had a hand in this?" He realises he might sound insane as he hears his words aloud, but he still thinks there's something in it. He can't really find any other way to explain why she would be here with him. "You don't think we were inevitable?"

"I used to think it was inevitable that we'd end up sleeping together, Dempsey, yes, but I thought we'd get drunk one night and finally give in to it, or we'd have a really terrible day at work, and...well, you know." She dips her head, smiling shyly, and he runs the backs of his fingers across her cheeks, smiling at her blushes.

"Are you saying you thought we'd have a quick roll in the hay and that would be it?" He grins at her, thinking back to the night she got drunk and pressed herself against him in the red dress she'd procured simply because he said he liked it. "Lady Harriet, I am shocked."

"It can't be that much of a shock that I might have found the idea of sleeping with you appealing, surely? Even when I wasn't sure there was much else I liked about you, I most definitely liked the idea of that. And nowhere did I say it would be quick. I always knew it would be good. You had great in bed written all over you from day one, James Dempsey, and you know it." Well, well, through all of the months she rolled her eyes, brushed him off, acted like he was the last person she'd consider getting naked with, turns out she wanted him all along. "I just didn't imagine it would be...well, I'm not sure I expected something real, something that feels like this."

"You thought Lieutenant Casanova of the NYPD only did casual, right?" He thinks back to when he first arrived, about how much of an ass he was, and how much he's changed since then. She would have been great for him, he would have been the worst thing in the world for her.

"In my defence, when you first arrived here that is all you did." Last night he could feel the simmering waves of jealousy rolling off her when another woman talked to him at the bar, this morning she's blithely referencing the shortcomings of the newly arrived version of himself with barely a frown. She takes him by surprise when she leans in and kisses him, her lips warm and soft against his, and it's the slightly lazy kiss of two people not long awake but needing each other's touch. "Doesn't matter anymore though."

She snuggles closer and pushes herself against him, tucking her head under his chin, her hair tickling his neck. He never enjoyed this with anyone before, never felt the comfort that comes with knowing there's nowhere else he'd rather be, nobody else he wants to be with, in this moment or any other. He thinks about last night again, about the moment it hit him that he loved her, even though he should really have known it when he filed an application to stay because he knew without a doubt that he couldn't live without her in his life. Maybe she knows it too, recognises the significance of him saying goodbye to his family and his home town when there's nothing to stop him returning now. Nothing but her.

"You know something…" He rolls onto his back, pulling her with him until she's draped blanket-like across his chest. "I think yesterday was the first wedding I've ever really enjoyed."

"Is that because I threw caution to the wind and kissed you?" He feels her fingers on his chest, curling into him, her nails running lightly across his skin. "I kissed you in a room filled with so many of our colleagues that I may as well have just thrown you across my desk at work."

"Now that's an image I don't hate…" He lets himself imagine it, just for a second, watching her sweep a pile of reports off her desk so she can throw him down on it. He wouldn't protest. He wouldn't protest at all. "I don't think I even expected you to kiss me last night with everyone there. It's why I put the ball in your court."

"I thought as much." She tilts her face up to look at him, a smile nudging at the edges of her lips. "I wasn't sure I was going to do it either, but I do like to keep you on your toes."

"And you wanted to claim me as your own before any of the other guests tried to move in." He thinks again about how she wasted no time in making it very clear he wasn't available, and about how much he enjoyed it.

"That may not have been my classiest move." She bites her lip and shrugs faintly.

"Understandable though." He grins at her, strangely amused by how embarrassed she seems to be by it. "I'm a pretty good catch, babe."

"So modest too." She sighs and slides her arm around him. "Well, I may as well tell you now that I had completely sworn off attempting to be happy and you're ruining my efforts in quite some style."

"I make you happy, huh?" It's not a surprise, he sees the sparkle in her eyes, the contentment in her smile, but it's still good to hear.

"Believe me, Dempsey, nobody is more surprised by that than I am, but yes, you do. I've actually…" There's a pause, heavy with a trepidation he can almost feel, like he's inside her mind watching her thoughts wrestling with one another. "I've quite honestly never been this happy."

"Well, that's good." He wonders why that might be something hard for her, thinks again about how much he'd like to get hold of her ex-husband and beat the shit out of him for somehow managing to make happiness a foreign concept to her.

"I suppose it is." There's still a wariness in her voice and he wants to wipe away all traces of it.

"You suppose it is?" Perhaps he could track down Robert fucking Makepeace, quietly let him know he had no right to do this to her.

"No, it is. It's good." Something more confident creeps into her tone and he smiles. "I'm getting used to it, but it scares me a little too."

"You're scared of being happy?" He knows that's not what she means but he wants her to be able to say it, he wants to be able to tell her she's wrong, that she can be happy, that if anyone deserves happiness it's her.

"No, not…" He hears the smile in her voice, feels the curve of her lips against his neck. "The being happy part is actually really nice."

"Talk to me, Harry." His hand strokes slowly down her arm, his urge to reassure her almost overwhelming. "What are you afraid of?"

"It's stupid, I know that." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself but he doesn't want her to hide anything from him. If she's unsure he wants to know why. "It doesn't matter."

"If there's something on your mind, Harry, it does matter." He taps the side of her head gently and smiles at her. "What's going on in here, princess? What's my 'scared of absolutely nothing' partner afraid of?"

"It's not you, it's nothing you've done, if that's what you're thinking." She smiles but then lowers her head, snuggling into his neck again. "I'm just...I'm worried it's all going to go wrong because whenever I've been happy before, it's ended badly, and none of that happiness has even come close to how I feel now. I just...I don't want to get hurt again."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry." He's never meant anything the way he means this. She's the most important thing in the world to him and he has to make sure she knows that. "Your heart is the most important thing I've ever been trusted with and if I manage to even bruise it, let alone worse, you have full permission to take me outside and shoot me with my own gun so you can call it an accident."

"I'm going to need that in a written, signed statement." She laughs, her breath warm against his skin.

"Deal." He pauses, knowing he wants to go further, wants her to know the full extent of his feelings, that he'd rather the earth stop spinning than to lose her. "Do you think I'd be applying to stay here if I didn't have every intention of making you happy for as long as you'll let me? You said it yourself, it's sure as shit not the weather I've fallen in love with."

And there it is, as easy as that. If she's scared he's going to hurt her because she thinks he's not serious, or he's playing with her she knows now that's not it at all. He's never been as sure about anything as he is about her. When he looks at her he sees possibility, he sees a future that he never considered before, he sees houses, gardens, little girls with Harry's eyes, little boys with her spirit, and instead of fear he feels a tingle of anticipation creeping up his spine.

"You love me more than the British weather?" She smiles and something in her expression is lighter as she focuses on him, her eyes bright and wide awake.

"Doesn't sound all that great when you say it like that." His smile matches hers. "I mean, yeah, I love you more than the weather, but without the weather part, I just... I love you."

He thinks about last night, her dress ending up on the floor as he unzipped it on their way into the room, his tie in her hands as she flung it onto the bedside table, his suit tossed carelessly over the chair in the corner of the room. Tipsy Harry is the perfect combination of sweet, playful, daring, and affectionate, and last night she was all of those and more. The glint in her eyes as she lay down on the bed, the sweet sighs of satisfaction as he kissed her neck, the low but needy moans as he moved lower, telling her how he felt with his mouth, his lips, not yet managing to convert his realisation into words.

This morning the words were ready and eager, tripping off his tongue in an act of reassurance, hoping to soothe her fears, dispel her doubts. Once upon a time he thought he loved Simone, but he thinks now he confused familiarity, convenience, habit- and not necessarily a good one- with love, because the strength of what he feels for Harry seems like a completely different emotion to what he felt back then.

The sight of her steals his breath, her scent clouds his vision, and the sound of her voice in his ear makes him forget every shitty day he's ever had. He's never known that before, never thought this was what love could feel like, this all-consuming comfort that comes from knowing she matters more than anything, anyone.

She lifts her head up from his chest and rolls off him, resting on her elbow, her other arm reaching for him, her hand running slowly down his chest. Shuffling closer as she leans in to kiss him, he wonders if she's stalling, if she feels pressure to tell him she feels the same way, and he doesn't want her to say anything she isn't ready to. He's okay with knowing he's head over heels for her and that she will hopefully get there too, but she's admitted she's wary of opening her heart, afraid of it being broken again, and he's more than ready to keep showing her that he cares about her heart more than his own.

"You don't have to say anything." He kisses her, his fingers pushing into her hair, his hand cupping the back of her head. "You don't have to feel something you don't, just because-"

"Shut up." She stops him with a smirk and moves in for another kiss. He's pretty sure he could forego breakfast for life if he gets to taste her lips every morning.

"You definitely don't have to say anything if that's the best you can do." She giggles against his lips and his fingers weave through her hair.

"Say it again, Dempsey." Her smile is wide, bright, and it fuels him, fills him with a desire to repeat the words all day long.

"Say what again, baby?" He grins as he rolls her onto her back, sliding his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand.

"Changed your mind already?" She's still smiling and her eyes are fixed firmly on his. "Conveniently forgotten that little slip of the tongue?"

"Never heard you complaining about my tongue before." He can't imagine ever changing his mind, she's everything he never knew he needed, she's everything he wants to wake up next to for the rest of his days, and he'll repeat it over and over if she needs him to.

"And you never will." She's almost purring and he can only begin to imagine what else she could inspire in him with that voice. "It's a very impressive tongue...very talented."

"It helps that there's no ice cream in the world as tempting as you, Harry." It's true, she's delicious, she tastes like heaven, a slice of perfect paradise every time he has the good fortune to find his lips pressed to her skin. "You're lucky I've managed to resist running my tongue down the back of your neck while you're fighting with that crappy coffee machine at the office. Sometimes it takes all the strength I have to step away."

"I love that you manage it though. You know you'd end up with the coffee pot over your head if you didn't resist and I really love that you know me well enough to realise that." She sighs and her eyes are brimming with something...mischief, bravery, he's not sure which, maybe both. "Well...I love you too, Dempsey, so I think that makes us even."

"I guess it does." He can't contain the grin he feels creeping onto his lips, he doesn't even want to. "I'm glad I filed that transfer application now. Would have been a real kick in the teeth to want to stay if you didn't care either way."

"I care." Her smile falters slightly and he drags his thumb across her bottom lip as though he can put it back in place. "They will approve it, won't they?"

"Spikings seems to think I have a good shot, yeah." He nods, hoping he can reassure her, trying not to think about the possibility of not being able to stay. "He said even the commissioner is impressed with our arrest rates, thinks we're a damn good team."

"Did Spikings seem...surprised that you wanted to make things permanent?" She smiles and he thinks back to his conversation with their boss, realising that no, he didn't seem surprised at all.

"Nope, I got the impression he'd almost forgotten I wasn't here permanently already. I guess I've been driving him crazy for long enough that he's just gotten used to me, like a desk that's always in the same place but that you still keep walking into." He's not sure he drives Spikings quite as crazy as he once did but he still thinks best behaviour might be a good plan until he has his transfer confirmed. "Pretty sure he knows it's not the job keeping me here."

"Like I said last night, I'm not sure we've been as good at hiding it as we like to think." She sighs and he thinks of the evenings they've left together, the mornings they've arrived the same way, the days she's had to wear a shirt with a higher neck, the times he's found himself gazing at her for longer than he should before reluctantly dragging his eyes away. "He's quite possibly been onto us for a while."

"Yeah, he probably thought I'd ask to go back after we got Coltrane." He remembers thinking he might have no choice, that if the NYPD requested his return he could find himself on the next flight back without a chance to even lodge a protest. "Probably didn't take much to figure out why I didn't."

"Can't help it if I'm irresistible, Dempsey." She's smiling at him now like the cat that got the cream, and if she looked at him like that every day he would never get tired of it.

"Yeah, there's definitely something about you, princess…" He's the cat that got the cream, really, and he knows it.

"Just one thing?" Her eyebrows raise and the smile runs through her voice. "Maybe I should be trying a bit harder, if that's the case."

"Everything, Harry. I said something, I meant everything." She's beautiful, passionate, sexy, loyal, strong...yeah, she's everything.

"What happens if they turn your application down?" A frown threatens to wipe the smile from her face. "I know you said it seems like it will go through, but what if-"

"Hey, it'll be fine. If that happens we'll figure something out." He leans down and kisses her, cementing the promise. "I'm not going anywhere. Not without a hell of a fight first. I swear they'd have to cuff me and drag me onto a plane by my damn hair."

"Well, I'd just have to marry you and then they'd have to cuff both of us." Her eyes don't leave his but her smile slips a little further.

"I like the sound of that." He smiles and his hand moves to her face, his fingers stroking down the side of her face, the urge to touch her impossible to fight.

"The being cuffed together part?" Her eyes flutter shut just briefly and she leans into his touch.

"All of it." He means it, but he realises too that he doesn't want to marry her just so he can stay, she's more than that, more than just a signature on a Home Office form. "But it won't come to that, Harry, it'll be okay, I promise. When we get married I don't want it to be just so I can get a stamp in my passport."

"Hell, I'd marry you for your pancakes, not to mention for all the things you can do with that tongue of yours, you sexy man." Her smile is back, and it's the flirty one, the one that says she knows what she does to him and she intends to keep on doing it. It might be his favourite in her whole catalogue of smiles. "So I wouldn't blame you for considering it so you can stay in the country."

"Is that your way of telling me you're ready for pancakes?" He grins at her and realises he could totally go for some coffee, so if she wants breakfast he's all for it.

"I could absolutely eat pancakes." She yawns and covers her mouth, grinning when she emerges out the other side of it. "With coffee. I'd like lots of coffee."

"You want to sleep some more or come and supervise me to make sure I don't destroy your kitchen?" He likes it when she watches him make breakfast, sitting at the table or leaning sleepily against the counter, her eyes following him around the kitchen. It fills him with something warm, something comfortable, he realises he likes how it feels to spend the mornings with her, and he wants to do it more.

"I'll make the coffee..." She rolls away from him and climbs out of bed, and he's damn sure she knows he's watching her as she walks across the room and reaches for her robe. She scoops up his boxer shorts from the floor and throws them onto the bed, grinning at him. "You make the pancakes."

"You know, the commissioner has a point." He stands up, not missing the way her gaze drifts south and stays there as he steps into his shorts, and he smirks at her. "We do make a good team."