"Holy cow, this is the best tuna casserole I ever had, Mike. When do I get to marry Jeanie and eat this good for the rest of my life?"
Grinning at his partner teasingly, Steve finished his last bite and washed it down with a big gulp of beer. It may be well after midnight, but that didn't stop the two detectives from enjoying a delicious and long overdue dinner.
"Never.", the Lieutenant answered curtly and ate another forkful, "Not in your wildest dreams, Buddy Boy. My daughter will never marry a cop. Nope. Not going to happen."
"When's Jeanie coming back home again anyways? Isn't she due for her winter break?"
"Oh, another month I think. I can't believe I haven't seen my daughter in over six weeks as it is…"
Watching him glance down at his almost empty plate, Steve couldn't help but sense the sadness in his partner's words, as the Lieutenant slowly chewed away, his eyes glazing over in deep thought.
"Do you ever get lonely…? I mean, when the day is done and she isn't home…"
Steve didn't know why he'd even asked that question.
Maybe it resonated with everything that had been going around in his mind lately. In the end, turning older didn't bother him. It was the maturity slowly developing every day he spent with Mike, that was turning him into a deep thinker after all these years of rebellious youth. Before, the wild college life and his busy time in Vice had kept his mind occupied, but now that he was dealing with death every single day, it made him painfully aware of his own mortality.
And Steve wasn't sure if that was a thought he could easily shake off.
"Sometimes I do. I try to remind myself that distance is really just in my mind, but it still gets to me some days.", Mike admitted and looked back up, his bright blue eyes meeting his, "I could ask you the same thing, you know."
"Me? No. I…I don't get lonely.", Steve answered way too fast, almost stumbling over his own words. Glancing down and reading the label of the beer bottle with great interest, he swallowed the unease building in the back of his throat, before daring to raise his head again.
As expected, Mike still looked straight at him, exhibiting the usual knowing stare that meant he'd been caught in a lie. As the Lieutenant took a sip of beer, he leaned back against his kitchen chair, a warm fatherly smile playing on his lips.
"You never get lonely, eh? What about your family? Despite everything that went on, don't you miss your folks every once in a while?"
Steve hadn't been ready for the candid question and froze in place, his eyes searching the colorful squares of the table cloth ahead for answers. As his blood pressure quickly rose, he could feel the heat building up on the side of his neck. Cursing himself for bringing up the very subject he'd been trying so hard to avoid, Steve reached up and loosened his tie, before fidgeting with the buttons of his dress shirt to try and get some air. When his fingers were shaking too much to manipulate them, he surrendered and cleared his throat.
"You mean all the ill-tempered comments about my career choice? All the hypocritical arguments when it comes to the free speech movement? How some voices are worth being heard while others aren't? All that talk about having to forgive my dad for what he said and did? All these hilarious promises of conditional love if only I accept the past and come back home, just to allow my dad to ridicule me in front of everybody all over again? Is that what you mean, Mike? Is that what I am supposed to miss? Being treated like a failure?"
Steve didn't realize he'd raised his voice, until he could see his partner's empathetic blue eyes mirror his own heartache and pain, something nobody besides Mike had ever been able to do. Catching himself in an emotional outbreak that should have never made it to the surface to begin with; Steve forced a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to calm down, before grabbing his empty plate and walking it over to the sink.
During that time, Mike had stayed respectfully quiet, although he sensed the Lieutenant's eyes tracking his every move, trying to decipher his body language.
As he got done washing his dishes and rinsing out the beer bottle, Steve leaned against the kitchen counter, resting his elbows on the linoleum surface so that he could bury his face in his palms. Because that was where he wanted to be right about now; far, far away in some dark place where nobody could see him in this vulnerable state.
Mike had approached quietly, resting his strong hands on his tired shoulders, hoping to knead out the stress and tension like he always did. As Steve tried to breathe through the emotions he'd unwittingly unleashed, the deep embarrassment he felt about the whole situation nearly crippled his senses.
With his head buried in his palms, he bit the inside of his lip, hoping the pain would allow him to refocus and move on from the memories that otherwise threatened to spiral out of control. In the back of his mind, Steve saw the disappointment on his mother's face, when he told her about his choice to join the peace protests. He remembered the cold tone in his father's voice, when he told him what an embarrassment to the family he was and how he would never sum up to much. And the hilarity of his mom's phone call a few years back, begging him to come home for the holidays and how much they missed seeing his face; as if her pleading voice would somehow erase the hatred that had been bestowed upon him ever since Berkeley and the war protests happened.
On the other end was Mike. A man he learned to love more than life itself after just a few years of partnership. Somebody who not only respected his political views, but who always helped to gently steer him in the right direction when faced with too many choices. Mike's unconditional friendship and unwavering guidance and support had allowed him to flourish in the harsh homicide environment, turning his strengths into professional excellence and his weaknesses into stepping stones to learn and gain wisdom from.
And as such, Mike was the last one to deserve being on the receiving end of the raw anger this conversation had brought up.
Steve felt his partner and best friend shift to lean up against the kitchen counter, keeping one hand on his left shoulder like a much-needed lifeline. Ironically it was the warmth of that gesture that seemed to reach him tonight, dulling his fury with every breath he took.
"I am sorry, Buddy Boy.", came Mike's quiet apology, causing a sting in Steve's heart at the thought that his partner would actually blame himself for this fiasco.
"No, I am sorry…", he apologized instead and straightened back out, only to feel Mike's hand shift to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, "You asked a valid question and I…I overreacted. That was uncalled for."
The Lieutenant shook his head with a faint smile, before tapping a finger at his chest.
"You didn't overreact. You just reacted. That's what happens when you keep brooding over something you cannot change, no matter how hard you try. Eventually it turns into an emotional trigger."
Steve nodded quietly, feeling his anger slowly dissipate beneath the warmth of Mike's caring gesture.
"Now the question you gotta ask yourself is, will you let something you cannot change affect you for the rest of your life, Buddy Boy?"
He looked up at those words, only to see Mike smile at him warmly.
"Okay…what happened wasn't right. Do you think it's right that you keep getting yourself all worked up over the past? Let it define you like that? Because, see, holding a grudge won't allow you to enjoy the presence."
Clenching his jaw, Steve thought about the profound words for a moment. All that animosity built up after years and years of arguing wasn't going to disappear overnight. And quite possibly, no matter how much time passed, he'd still feel the familiar sting in his heart when seeing parents and their kids having a careless, fun time. Without the harsh words that burnt like fire. And the betrayal of having his mother stand up for his father when she knew well enough that he was wrong. Or the laughs when his father found out he had chosen the police academy over his alternative goal of becoming a psychologist. After all, how would he ever be qualified to dish out life advice if he couldn't get his own life under control?
But Mike had raised a very valid point. And considering that right now, at this moment, he was lucky enough to be paired with the best detective San Francisco had to offer, a man who had picked him over anybody else as his new partner, maybe, just maybe it was time to enjoy the presence for once.
Because, as he learned so many times before, nothing this amazing lasted forever.
Releasing a long-held breath, Steve reached up to grasp his partners wrist in unspoken gratitude. Meeting those caring blue eyes once again reminded him just how lucky he was to be partnered with his best friend every single day. Even if it meant staying awake all night and chasing mob hitmen, while having a deep conversation about life and life choices in Mike's kitchen like it was nothing.
Their quiet moment was interrupted when somebody knocked on the door.
Whether it was the time of the night or an accumulation of the events over the past few days, both detectives instantly unholstered their revolvers, before positioning themselves in front of the entrance door.
Mike reached for the deadbolt and opened the door, while Steve squeezed himself against the wall, staying undetected in case their company wasn't the welcome type.
Keeping a close eye on his partner's face, he quickly relaxed when Mike's frown turned into a smile.
"Nancy, what are you doing here?"
"I went up to your office to see if you guys were still around, but Tanner said you were out on the streets. I figured eventually you had to come home…now, are you going to lower that gun and let me in, Michael?"
Steve couldn't help but chuckle at the surprise washing over Mike's features, as the Lieutenant took a few steps back and secured his .38 back in its holster.
Stepping out from behind his hideout, he mimicked the gesture, before glancing up at Doctor Burkall. Dressed in a purple raincoat carrying two large plastic work cases under her arms, she looked almost comical.
He wanted to reach forward to help her with that load, but Mike was quicker.
"Here, let's set these down right here…", the Lieutenant mumbled with a surprising amount of nervousness in his voice. Although Steve couldn't put his finger on it, it seemed that something had changed between those two.
The young Inspector stepped aside, giving both some more room in the narrow entrance way to Mike's house, when Nancy called him back.
"I am actually here for you, Hoss. And you better sit down on the couch for that one."
Sharing a surprised glance with his partner, Steve raised his eyebrows, ready to ask what this was all about, when Nancy stripped out of her rain coat and smiled.
"Sorry, I love Westerns. Don't you guys ever watch TV?"
"Not as much as we'd like.", Mike interrupted and hung up the coat of his newest guest, before gently ushering the Doctor toward his living room, "So, I take it you have some news that could break our case?"
Steve was beginning to get slightly amused at the way Mike walked on eggshells around the doctor. Not that it would make any difference to him, but there sure seemed to be some serious rekindling going on.
"Not news but an idea.", Nancy explained and used the corner of her plaid shirt to wipe the raindrops off her glasses, "The autopsy on your latest victim came back as expected. The bullet to his head killed him. I didn't realize what all had happened until Bill told me an hour ago. Michael, you have a live walking piece of evidence right here, and we may be able to use Steve to narrow down your list of killers…"
Sharing a worried glance with his partner, Steve subconsciously retreated a couple more steps, before leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen.
"How's that? The hospital said they couldn't find anything.", Mike argued and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"That's because you're dealing with a hospital, not a lab expert, Lieutenant. They don't know the full story and it's not their job to help you in your investigation. Their job is to make sure that the patients they discharge have a pulse, that's about as far as that goes."
"So what are you planning on doing?"
"Thank you for offering me some hot coffee after I drove across town to help you two out…", Nancy answered pretentiously, a devious smile forming on her lips, "Give me some black goodness and I'll be happy to fill you in."