A/N: bjp, I can't believe you think there is more chaos in store for Steve! (I guess you must have read me before!)

7. A Friend Indeed

Steve pulled the truck into the driveway and turned off the engine, glancing in the rearview mirror. CJ had been quiet for the last mile and the reflection in the mirror showed him fast asleep, his head bobbing on his chest. Steve slipped quietly out of the truck, delicately closing the door behind him and opening the rear passenger door.

He had decided that CJ's interrogation work deserved a reward, and so now CJ still held the melted remains of a chocolate ice cream cone against his top, his face anointed from nose to chin with more of the chocolate goo.

Steve shook his head as he released the seatbelt and carefully lifted him out, managing to avoid hitting his head this time as he propped CJ against his shoulder, prying the sticky remains of the cone out of the tiny grip with his other hand. Yuck.

He hadn't been sure enough of the state of his own stomach to try one himself and now he was glad. He shot it deftly into the nearest garbage can, wiping his hand on his jeans and then pulling the car seat free before pushing the door closed. CJ never even stirred.

He glanced around. No sign of Dad, no sign of Amanda. Seemed like somebody should be here by now. He walked around the beach house to his patio, shooting a quick look at his watch as he did so. "Well, no wonder you're out - it's your nap time. I wonder where Mommy is - she expected to be back before now."

He paused by the playpen, intending to settle CJ into it, squirmed a little. It still looked too much like waiting-in-the-lockup-for-bail to him, so after a minute he lowered himself into a beach chair instead, with CJ stretched out on his chest. CJ didn't even budge, so Steve made himself comfortable. Well, this should work all right. And Amanda should be back any time now.

Carefully, he reached for his magazine, lying abandoned on the patio by his chair, and, propping it up behind CJ's little head, settled in to read.

0000

Steve.

He was dreaming: a pleasant dream, evidently, if the soft, feminine voice in his ear was any indication.

"Steve."

It grew more emphatic and he stirred a little, trying to shift a weight on his chest. This was more like it. Now something was tugging at the weight on his chest and he clutched at it instinctively.

"Steve, it's just me - I've come to pick up CJ."

He pried his eyes half apart. Amanda's face filled his horizon, softened by a half-tender, half-amused expression he couldn't quite remember seeing before. Suddenly, it all came back to him.

"Oh - " he let go of his grip on CJ and tried to sit up as Amanda lifted the weight away. "Oh. Hi. You're back."

"I'm sorry I was so long." Amanda perched on the end of the lawn chair as CJ, without waking, cuddled into her neck. "Where's Mark?"

"Hm?" Steve stopped rubbing his eyes to glance around. "He's not back yet? Must still be at the hospital."

"You've been alone all this time? Oh, Steve - " Amanda looked contrite. "If I had known you were alone I never would have - but Ron managed to get his flight changed and we thought - " she broke off abruptly, the color rising in her cheeks.

A look at her face and Steve figured he had a pretty good idea what they'd been doing. He sighed inwardly, his mind slipping with brief regret to Sandy and her lavender bikini. Oh, well. At least somebody was getting a little action. Even if it was Wagner. "So," he gave her a shrewd smile. "Everything worked our with Ron?"

Amanda nodded, her color deepening. "Oh, yes. I can't thank you enough, Steve. It was all a silly misunderstanding. But I'm so sorry you were left alone for so long - was he much trouble?" The look she gave the little dark head in the crook of her neck suggested that she couldn't imagine anyone finding him anything of the kind.

"Naw, he was good." Steve banished the last of the sleep from his eyes and covered a yawn. "We went for ice cream."

"Yes, so I see." Amanda tapped a wide chocolate and drool spot on the right shoulder of his t-shirt with one slender finger. "Why don't you let me take that with me to launder?"

Steve made a face at the spot, brushing uselessly at it. "No, it's okay. I have quite a stack of laundry growing. Might as well just put it in with the rest."

"Well, if you're sure…" Amanda rose, dropping a quick kiss on top of his head. "I can't thank you enough, Steve…"

Steve moved to get up. "I'll help you pack up the car - "

"No, it's all right." Amanda patted his shoulder to keep him seated. "I already took care of it while you boys had your nap. I've learned to really take advantage of his downtimes. You just take it easy. Enjoy your day. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah." Steve lifted a hand in farewell, surprised by a twinge of disappointment that CJ was too deeply asleep to say good-bye. He leaned back into his lawn chair, yawning again, picked up his magazine from where it had fallen when he'd dropped off and smoothed the crumpled pages. His stomach gave an unexpected growl and he smiled. Well, whattya know. Looked like he was back in business. He should call Dad and see if they were still on for dinner.

He picked up his cell phone from the little table next to his chair and hit one of the speed dial buttons. This time his father picked up almost immediately. "Hey, Dad."

"Steve!" Mark sounded pleased, if harried. "How's your day off?"

Steve massaged the lump at his hairline. "Well, it's…different. How about you? We still on for dinner?" But he knew that distracted tone well and was pretty sure of what it boded, even as he asked.

"Oh, let's see - what time is it now?" He waited patiently, picturing his father checking his watch and the inevitable start of surprise when he saw the time. "Oh, my - is it really that late…?" Steve mouthed the words along with him. "I don't know, Steve - we're pretty busy here. If you can hold off until eight or so…?"

Steve shook his head, even though he knew his father couldn't see it. Experience had taught him that "eight or so" meant closer to nine, at best. "Dad, I never finished breakfast and I lost my lunch. I'll starve if I have to hold off until eight."

"Good point. How is the stomach, by the way?"

"Better. Empty."

Mark chuckled. "You go ahead, then. Can I have a rain check?"

"For a free meal? You know it."

"All right, son. I'll be home as soon as I can. Maybe we can still get that walk in."

"Okay, Dad - don't work too hard."

"I won't. Oh - and Steve - " Steve waited. "Take it a little easy on the takeout food, all right? Your stomach probably isn't quite ready for a lot of things. Stick to - "

"I'll be fine, Dad - " Steve broke in firmly. "Talk to you later."

He hit the button to break the connection and got up to check out his collection of take out menus. He had only gone a few steps when the cell phone trilled, and he grabbed it again and continued walking. "Change your mind?" he asked into the small mouthpiece.

"About calling you? That depends. How's the day off going?"

Steve grinned, abashed. "Oh, hi, Jess. Sorry, I thought you were Dad. What's up?"

"Nothing's up. Just thought I'd call to see how you were doing with twenty-four whole hours to yourself. Sick of the life of leisure yet? Dying for something to do?"

Steve paused at the French doors that led into his living room. "Well, it hasn't turned out exactly as I planned…" Something in Jesse's tone registered with him and he added, more cautiously, "Why?"

"Oh, just wondering." The joviality in Jesse's voice sounded suspiciously forced. "Just thought you might be bored by now and looking for something to fill the long, empty hours."

Steve's voice gathered a suspicious edge. "…Like…?"

"Oh, you know," Jesse was breezy. "Like…nothing special. Just maybe…oh, you know…something like…covering my shift at Bob's…"

"Jesse, no!" Steve's protest sprangfrom him unbidden. "Jess, I've been at Bob's every single night that I haven't been on call or on stake-out lately. I don't even want to see the place, or the station. I want to be Steve Sloan, off-duty-of-all-kinds slob. I want to eat a meal that isn't ribs. I want to eat a meal sitting down."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I know."

"And in my home - if I can remember what it looks like!"

"Yeah, I get it - "

"I just want a chance to get the barbecue sauce smell out of my pores, Jess. I smell like a walking advertisement. It's probably the main reason I don't have a social life. Not that I have time for one…"

"Okay, buddy, I hear you - I understand. Hey, who's the guy who peeled you off the wall last night when you fell asleep standing up? I know you need a break. You have a good evening. Get in some downtime. I'll talk to you later."

"Look, I'm sorry, Jess. Another time?"

"Sure thing."

Steve knew that he should stop right there and break the connection, but there was something in Jesse's voice that made him say, almost against his will, "So, what's the big emergency? Hot date?"

Had he really asked that? He hadn't meant to ask that.

"Oh, you know - " Jesse sounded offhand. "My Dad breezed into town and wondered if I was free for dinner - you know how he is. I thought maybe - but, hey, it will teach him to call ahead occasionally, huh? You take it easy. Get some rest."

Steve felt his stomach drop with a clang. His dad…? "Oh." There was a pause. "He's just in town for the one night…?"

"Yeah - " Jesse gave another ungenuine sounding laugh. "You know how he is. Has to squeeze fatherhood in between spy engagements - time is at a premium. But, hey - don't worry about it - there'll be other dinners. You take a break. You've earned it."

Steve closed his eyes. He knew and Jesse knew that there was absolutely no way to predict when Dane Travis would fly through town again. And you see YOUR Dad every day. Every DAY, a little voice in his head rebuked him.

Steve took a deep breath. "You know, it's a funny coincidence, but my dad canceled a dinner date with me. Maybe you should go, Jess. I could do Bob's."

"No - Steve - I shouldn't have asked. It's just - but don't worry about it. You relax."

"No," Steve felt a little more conviction as he spoke. "It's fine, Jess - you go ahead. It'll work out fine - save me having to cook dinner."

Jesse sounded skeptical. "You were going to cook?"

"Okay, thaw - order in - what difference does it make? It will save me from doing it."

Some of the animation returned to Jesse's voice. "Look, Steve - are you sure about this…?"

Sure?Maybe not quite, but the longer he spoke, the more he felt it was the right thing to do. "It'll be fine."

"Well, it is Wednesday. " Jesse was bouncing back. "Should be a really small crowd. Just a few regulars. Almost dead."

"Perfect place for a homicide cop then," Steve joked. "You go ahead. Give my best to Dane."

"Thanks, buddy. Say, if I can ever return the favor - "

"Believe me. You will. Talk to you later, Jess."

Steve stood looking at the phone after he hung up, wondering what the heck he had just done to himself. He really needed to stop answering that phone, that was the problem. Then he shrugged it off.

Well, at least he didn't have to make any decisions about dinner. And Jesse was right - Wednesday nights were slow. He'd bring along his magazine. Maybe he'd even get a chance to finish his article. He glanced at the time. He'd better get moving.

But first he had to find a clean t-shirt.

TBC