A/N: Well, you know me, guys. I'm a bit of a tease. And I can't help feeling this chap might infuriate a few of you. Oh, well, all feedback welcome as usual.

By the following Tuesday the duo had fallen into a seemingly comfortable pattern. Though Sheelagh hadn't stepped foot out of the house (something which was starting to concern Sam) she appeared happy and normal, doing more than her fair share of cooking, cleaning and just generally being sociable. It was making such a difference to the house. Despite the improved mother-daughter relationship since Hugh Wallis Sam and Abi had still been giving each other a wide berth yet Sheelagh seemed to bridge the gap. And that wasn't the only effect she was having.

Sam was finding the experience of living with her both liberating and highly oppressive. On the one hand, she actually looked forward to coming home, something which she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. Sheelagh lit the house up, it was like having a powerful flashlight, only better. On the other hand, being in close proximity to her fellow officer every day was doing nothing for her burgeoning feelings towards her.

Every time she looked at her Sam found herself overwhelmed, partly with love but also the need to protect Sheelagh from everything, Gabriel especially. Then there was the strength of the feelings overwhelming her. Having not felt like that in a long while she was having trouble accepting it. Cue many embarrassments at work when she found herself lost in thoughts. Phil seemed concerned about it all but thankfully he was keeping his nose out. The last thing she wanted was to have to fend off more advances from him.

Sheelagh hadn't noticed anything though. To be fair, she had been a bit preoccupied. Every so often Sam would see her eyes mist over and she'd know, instinctively, that Sheelagh was revisiting that night and what Gabriel had done to her. At those times she felt the almost irresistible urge to just hold her friend but she also knew where that was likely to lead and Sheelagh didn't need that kind of complication. Not to mention the fact that Sam didn't want to face the rejection she surely would if she were to let herself go.

When she got home that Tuesday evening she mentally prepared herself for the wave of emotion she knew would hit her the moment she saw Sheelagh. Instead, she found herself greeted by a beautiful aroma when she entered the kitchen and double the emotion she'd expected. With her back to the doorway the Irish copper looked fantastic, dressed in some of Sam's own clothes; annoyingly, a short skirt that revealed the best of her legs. It was all Sam could accomplish to force her attention back up towards the blonde head. 'Hi.'

Sheelagh turned, wooden spoon in hand. 'Oh, hello.'

'What are you doing? You don't have to cook.'

'I want to. Besides, you said you weren't going to argue.'

'Well, then, I'd best not.' Sam put her bag by the door. 'What can I do?'

'Sit down,' Sheelagh instructed, turning back to her work. 'You do like spaghetti?'

'Of course. It smells delicious.' Sam fought the impulse to approach the figure, promptly lost and slowly crossed the kitchen. 'You really didn't have to do this.'

'I know.' Sheelagh stirred the sauce then turned with the spoon. 'Taste.'

Her heart somersaulted as she found herself leaning towards Sheelagh, aware of the scent of perfume mixing with the sauce. Trying to control her breathing, she flicked her tongue over the wood, cringing slightly at the sudden heat. 'That's gorgeous.'

'You're sure?'

'Oh, believe me, you could bribe witnesses with that.'

'I'm only trying to get you eating out of the palm of my hand.'

'You've succeeded.'

'Aren't you going to ask what I want?' Sheelagh questioned pouring the sauce into a bowl.

Sam shrugged, pulling a few plates from the cupboard. 'Is Abigail eating with us?'

'She said she getting a takeaway with a friend. Sam?'

'Did she say which friend?'

'Not that I recall. Sam, don't you want to ask me?'

Turning her back, she started laying the table. 'Not really.'

A moment later there was a hand on her shoulder. 'Sam...'

Sighing, she looked back. 'I know.'

'Then I thought you'd be happy.'

'Let's not talk about this tonight. I don't want anything to ruin this meal.'

'Tomorrow then,' Sheelagh replied, her fingers brushing the back of Sam's neck as she moved away. It was wishful thinking to imagine it could anything except inadvertently.

As predicted, the meal was beautiful, with Sheelagh cooking how could it be anything else? The conversation was a bit sparse, there was too much being left up in the air, from Sam's point of view anyway. After a little gentle persuasion Sheelagh had agreed to leave the washing-up for a little while so the pair found themselves silent on the sofa. It was fortunate Sam had just the remedy for such a situation. Alcohol. It always worked.

Too true, Sheelagh started to loosen up after her first glass. 'Any station gossip I should know about before I go back?'

'I think I've told you everything. Oh, apart from Gary blowing up today, calling Suzie Sim a bully.'

'And is she?'

'How would I know?'

'Oh, you're too senior to be bullied, is that it?'

'As a matter of fact, yes.'

'Plus people are scared of you. That helps.'

Sam laughed. 'Of me? Who?'

'Most of uniform. I was for a time.'

'No, you weren't.'

'Honestly,' Sheelagh answered. 'You were the big bad wolf of CID.'

'I didn't know I was that bad.'

'Your reputation preceded you, as they say.'

'I can't believe I never knew.' She glanced sideways. 'Am I still like that?'

'You're a pussycat really. You just have vicious claws when you need them.'

While she was working out whether that was a good thing, Sam refilled their glasses. 'I had to change.'

'Because of what happened with Abigail?' Sheelagh asked sympathetically.

'Mmm, among other things.'

'Such as what?'

It was best to make a joke really, wasn't it? 'Well, I attracted Phil Hunter, I must have been doing something wrong.'

'Can't argue with that,' Sheelagh smiled, clinking their glasses.

As she did so Sam found her grip on the sofa arm slipping, accidentally, of course. The movement brought her irresistibly close to her colleague. For a second she held something of an inner debate until she looked into Sheelagh's eyes and saw a questioning. A wondering. Throwing caution to the wind she leaned closer, touching the lips ever so slightly, just enough to make her intentions evident.

To her dismay Sheelagh jumped up as if she'd been bitten, sending red wine flying over the beige sofa.

Sam was instantly repentant. 'God, I'm sorry.'

Sheelagh didn't say a word, just shook her head and made for the door.

'Sheelagh! Sheelagh, please!'

Hearing the front door slam Sam fell back onto the sofa, sending her own wine glass crashing to the floor.