He can't think...
Meanwhile, she's staring at him -- and not with her eyes, because they're busy examining her purse. Making sure that it's still... still a purse, he guesses. But he can feel her thinking about him, the way he's thinking about her and what she did and how fast his heart is beating. She kissed him, before brushing her teeth or using mouthwash or even wiping her lips, and he doesn't care. He must be losing his mind, it's the only possible explanation. He must be... be completely crazy.
And as she's busy examining her mysterious feminine belongings, he carefully slips the antibacterial cloth into his pocket.
There's no way on earth he'll ever be able to get rid of this feeling -- but before he can say a word to her, she stands and looks down at him. Shaking. She's shaking, she's horrified, she's humiliated and embarrassed and the look on her face is screaming how badly she feels about everything. He tries to think of what to do, but he can't. He's still in shock.
"I..." she begins, giving this little speech to the top of his head, "I... I'll see you later." and she heads towards the door, pulling the purse up over her shoulder as she vanishes into the front hallway.
What is she doing? She's not allowed to leave, not after this because they won't be able to face each other if it's not finished. If she leaves, he can't...
He stands. His mind no longer has any control over his body, and he's a lot quicker than usual. He needs to get there before she touches that door knob. He needs to stop her from leaving and his heart is beating strangely -- it's off by... by two -- and no matter how hard he tries to force himself to think of something that will make this whole situation go away, he can't... But when he stops her in the hallway, a single sentence manages to push its way through uproarious fear and love.
"Sharona... Y-you aren't leaving."
She stops in her tracks and he watches in terrified apprehension as she stretches out, gradually growing a little taller as she inhales. Not angrily, though, and he thanks God for it -- still frightened and shivering and unable to believe what's just happened.
"...This is really important," Impordant is how she pronounces it, and it makes him smile when he adds in the idea that she isn't protesting in the usual way. She isn't questioning his sudden decisiveness, or control or why he thinks she'll listen.
She's... she's adorable, in her guilt-ridden sort of way... the way that has nothing to do with Trudy and everything to do with him. And as he thinks this, he knows he's doing the right thing.
He takes a tentative step closer to her and places a hand on her shoulder... a hand that isn't protected by, by shirtsleeves or a wipe or even his handkerchief. Fingers resting lightly against a pink short-sleeved shirt, barely communicating anything by normal standards and... and yet, the world through his. One subtle gesture to blow Sharona Fleming away.
It's a gift.
They don't do anything like normal couples. They don't make out on the sofa while Benjy's at Drew's or Kenny's, they don't play mind games or flirt. He comes over on Friday nights and they watch a movie, with Benjy, after which the two of them debate over whether or not the lead was able to act. It's weird, especially to people from the outside looking in, but it doesn't bother her.
It makes her really damn happy.
They go to work together and, if they both hadn't been so at peace with everything, no one would have started talking. But neither of them mind, really. There's not much that can be done to hurt either of their reputations -- the most intimate they'll get for the next five years is hand-holding. Maybe hugging... but she doesn't care. She knows that when he's ready to let loose and super-kiss her, he'll do it.
Until then, she can wait. Brushing his fingers and resting her head on his shoulder and letting him fix things in her house, for a change. They still fight, they still shout at each other until their faces are blue. But it doesn't matter, because they would never hurt each other intentionally.
Tonight, they're going to watch What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and she's unecessarily rearranging loose curls, lightly spraying herself with airy perfume, putting on a typical Sharona-shirt: low-necked and a little tight. She's not really worried about how she looks, but she was raised to "date" (and that's the only existing word that comes close to describing this situation) this way. A girl expresses energy through the perfection of her appearance.
Benjy hollers after her a little while later, with the proclamation that Mr. Monk keeps calling and wonders when she's going to come and get him.
"He's getting a little annoying," he sighs, coming to stand in the doorway with a look of exasperation on his young face.
"Hey," she replies with an easy laugh, "You just remember whose idea this was, punk."
A/N: The end. Anyway, my deepest, deepest thanks for all of your reviews, people. What a way to build a girl's self esteem. For those of you interested, I'm currently developing an actual Monk mystery fanfiction which should be several chapters, and a short (5 chapters, at the most) parody-ish (but not really!) story.
Special Thanks to: Everybody. I love you all with severe amounts of review-needing adoration.