"I really am sorry you're having to do this here." The baby is on a bench in the locker room, a towel the closest thing to a mat she was able to find, and the smell emanating from a person so small is really quite impressive in its own mildly unpleasant way. "I'm starting to realise how completely ill-equipped this place is for...well, for anyone who isn't male, frankly."
"Oh God, don't worry about it, I've changed him in far worse places than this." Cheryl looks up at her and shrugs. "The whole bloody world is designed for blokes. They're delighted with themselves for knocking us up but when it comes to wiping their kids' arses, they seem to think it happens by magic."
"God, that's depressing." She leans against a locker and sighs, wondering who she should talk to about the complete lack of provisions here. This can't possibly be the first time a mother has needed to change a baby in this building and it probably won't be the last. "I really should see what I can do to get at least a changing mat. This is ridiculous."
"Well, we wouldn't need to be here at all if the idiot I live with hadn't had a go at a smash and grab and taken Harry with him." Cheryl rolls her eyes before finishing up with the baby, snapping the button on his little jeans back in place and hoisting him back into her lap. "You got kids?"
"No." She finds her eyes settling once again on little Harry and she can't help smiling. "No kids."
"I bet when you do have them your fella won't do anything half as stupid as what my Robbie did today. Bloody idiot."
"Well, I found my husband in bed with my so-called best friend." She has no idea why she's sharing with a woman she just met and will likely never see again. What she does know is that something is telling her that Robbie is more gullible than criminal, and that if Cheryl sticks with him she's almost certain he can turn things around. She hopes so anyway, if only for little Harry's sake. "I'm not sure that's any less stupid than what yours did today."
"Christ on a bike, what a total bastard." Cheryl's eyes are wide as she looks over at her.
"That's essentially what I called him that day too." She shakes her head, waits for the memory to move along, and smiles. "Anyway, it goes without saying that when I do decide to have children, it won't be with him."
"Too bloody right. I bet you've got someone loads better now anyway." Cheryl kisses the top of the baby's head and smiles back at her. "Are they going to charge him? Robbie, not your husband."
"He's very lucky he didn't go in there armed or we wouldn't have a choice. As it is, it's Terry we want, Cheryl. It's Terry we've wanted for years but we've never quite managed to make anything stick. Robbie might just have given us something that could change that, so on that basis, no, he won't be charged. I can't promise the same if we see him again."
"I'll kill him if he even thinks about pulling another stunt like this, I swear to God." Cheryl sighs and stands up, handing the baby to her. "Take him for a sec, would you? Ta."
She bounces a much more fresh-smelling Harry in her arms as Cheryl drops the nappy into the bin and folds up the towel.
"Hold on…this isn't going to drop Robbie in the shit, is it?" Cheryl frowns and walks back over to her, taking the baby back and kissing him on the cheek. "Him giving you info on Terry? Don't get me wrong, I'd rather see Terry go down than Robbie, but Terry's got some right bastards working for him. The kind of blokes I don't want turning up on my doorstep, if you know what I mean."
"I do know, yes." She reaches out and squeezes the baby's hand, smiling at him before looking back up at his mother. "Robbie will be fine, Cheryl, really."
"Yeah, well, don't think I won't be back here letting you know if anything does happen." Cheryl pauses and sighs before going on. "You know, he's really not a bad bloke. Most of the time he's a right softie, he's just too bloody easily led."
"Then maybe you can try and lead him in the opposite direction, Cheryl, yeah?"
"Yeah." Cheryl grins and shifts her son onto her other hip. "Thanks...for keeping an eye on this one. I think he must like you, he usually does his bloody nut when he's with someone he doesn't know."
"It was fine, honestly. He really wasn't any bother, much less difficult than most of the men I have to work with here." She grins at Cheryl and feels strangely pleased with herself despite having done nothing more than keep a baby amused for a while. "Come on, I'll take you to find Robbie."
It's been grey outside all day, completely dismal, really, so she isn't surprised at just how early it seems to be heading towards darkness. Dempsey has been fighting valiantly against the jet lag for a while, perking himself up with coffee and at least two Mars Bars that she's aware of. Glancing up from the arrest reports she's busy checking, she can't help but smile at the sight of him dozing opposite her, his head falling further towards his chest with every noisy exhale.
She's tired too, she hasn't slept particularly well while he's been away, and when she reaches the end of the current report she decides enough is enough. Spikings left an hour ago and nobody else since Robbie has decided to attempt anything ridiculous today, so the paperwork can wait.
"Dempsey." She's met with a faint snore, the low, gentle rumble she's used to hearing when he falls asleep on the sofa. "Dempsey."
"Hmm? Yep, I'm awake." He blinks and looks about as far from awake as anyone with their eyes open can look. "What's up?"
"Grab your bag, we're going home." She slides the reports back into the folder they came from and into the top drawer of her desk. "You can nap in the car."
Unusually, he does as he's told and dozes the whole way home. There's something about a sleepy Dempsey that turns her insides to mush. It's the sweetness, the vulnerability, the way his guard is down, it makes her feel everything she never could have imagined when they first met. When she curls up against him every night they feel like different people to the ones they were back then, and she likes these versions so much more.
In the house she tells him to go and shower, unpack his bag, and whilst he does that she looks through the kitchen, searching the fridge for dinner inspiration. It doesn't take long for her to abandon her mission and decide instead to head upstairs. The silence as she does is ominous so she isn't surprised by the sight of him asleep on the bed as she walks into the bedroom, shoes off but otherwise fully clothed, clearly having failed to make it to the shower. She kicks off her own shoes and crawls onto the bed beside him.
"You know, if you were planning to go to bed…" She presses herself against him, feels him shift, clearly dozing rather than fully sleeping. "It's only fair that you ask me to join you."
"I mean, I wasn't really…" His voice is low as his arm slides around her and she smiles, realising again how much she missed him while he was gone. "I wasn't planning to go to bed. I was about to unpack my bag, and I just…you know, sat down for a minute, and boom, here we are."
"You can sleep for a while, if you need to. I can wake you up when I figure out what there is for dinner."
"Nah, I'm good." He makes no attempt to move and she's fine with that, perfectly comfortable to stay in his arms for now. "So, you know I called the first night I was gone and told you everything was done in New York? With the paperwork for the extension to my contract here."
"Yes." She nods against him, remembering the call well, the relief in his voice at things having gone smoothly. "Was that...not the case?"
"No, it was, it was fine, all good. But you know I told you I'd been doing some thinking too, right?" He doesn't wait for an answer but she feels his fingers stroking her arm as he goes on. "Well, I figured if I was there and filing an extension request, I may as well make it a request for a permanent transfer because I don't just want an extension, I don't want to have to jump through these damn hoops every couple of years, I want to stay, for real. And when I looked into what I needed to do, it wasn't actually a whole lot different from applying for the extension, so…
"Dempsey…" She appreciates his ability to tell a story, but not right now. "I can't believe you would think this is the time for a cliffhanger."
"Fair enough." He's smiling, she can hear it, and it relaxes her. "Long story short then, I guess…I got the sign-off I needed from the NYPD and left it with Spikings this morning to lodge with the Home Office here. So...if it doesn't screw up your five year plan, I figured I'd stay. For good, you know."
"As flattered as I am that you consider me organised enough to have a five year plan..." She lifts her head from his chest and props herself up so she can look at him properly. There's a fluttering low in her belly, anticipation and relief combining to make quite the formidable duo. "I really don't. But if you're here for good now, maybe I should make one."
"Yeah, you should. We should." He shifts too, onto his side to face her, his eyes tired but his words as clear as day.
"I always just thought I'd end up having to marry you to get you your permanent status." She reaches for his hand, craving his touch, the way his fingers fit perfectly with her own.
"Dammit, did I just blow my chances at marrying you?"
"Oh, I don't think anybody blew anything." Her free hand moves across his chest, slowly down to the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers stroke lower, her eyes darting briefly south before she settles her gaze back on his. "Yet."
"Harry…" She hears it, the same yearning in his tone that she feels running through her body. A need, a faint desperation borne of days away from him, nights alone, an itch only he can scratch.
"I was thinking I could start this five year plan by letting you show me how much you missed me, but if you're tired and need to catch up on sleep…" She rolls away from him and stands up, biting back a grin at just how fast he scrambles across the bed after her.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead, babe." He sits on the edge of the bed and she takes a step closer, moving between his knees, running a quick hand through his messy hair.
"I wasn't suggesting you wait quite that long." She unzips her skirt and lets it drop to her feet, stepping out of it, her eyes fixed firmly on him.
He reaches for her and pulls her closer, his warm breath tickling her skin, his eyes dark as he looks up at her before his lips settle on her thigh, peppering her with tiny kisses that make her squirm. Her breath catches in response and her hands move automatically to his head, her fingers weaving through the thick, dark hair she loves so much. She tugs hard enough to get his attention, smiling when he glances up at her again.
"Show me how much you missed me, Dempsey."
"You should have woken me." He wanders into the kitchen as she's pouring coffee, looking sexier than anyone really should in a t-shirt and shorts and sporting some serious morning hair. Leaning up to kiss him, she realises that yes, she really should have woken him.
"I was going to bring you coffee." She kisses him again, sliding her arms around him, smiling as he does the same, pulling her tighter against his chest. "You slept well last night."
"Back with my girl, that's why." He pushes her fringe aside and kisses her forehead. "I don't sleep for shit without you, Harry."
"Well…" She leans into his touch, her hands still pressed against his back, his lips ghosting gently across her skin. "Maybe you should remember that next time you consider haring off to New York without me."
"Oh, I'm never setting foot on a plane without you again." He pulls back and looks at her, his eyes smiling. "Not to mention, my mom would murder me if I showed up without you next time."
"I love your mother already." She grins and kisses him once more before sliding out of his hold and reaching for her coffee.
"So, princess, you all set for today?" She sits down and wraps her hands around her mug, savouring the warmth, looking across the table at him, confused by his question. "Christmas sweater, hat, all that jazz?"
"Did we...plan something for today?" She wonders if they planned something before he left for New York and she has since completely forgotten what it was.
"I'm not sure we made an actual plan, but it's exactly two weeks until Christmas, Harry, so there's something we have to do." He sighs, giving nothing away besides the fact he thinks she's an idiot for not knowing what he's talking about.
"You know, if you're expecting me to guess what it is, we're going to be sitting here all day, so..." She pauses, sliding her hand onto his arm, apparently unable to stop touching him this morning. "You're going to need to tell me what it is we're doing today, Dempsey."
"We're going to finish this coffee, we're going to eat some breakfast, and then we're going out to get a Christmas tree."
"A Christmas tree?" She's absolutely sure he hadn't mentioned that to her because she knows she would have heard it and told him she already has a perfectly adequate Christmas tree in the loft.
"Yes." He sighs at her, leans in to run a finger slowly down her nose, and goes on. "Tall, green, smells great, looks real good covered in lights and decorations. Sound familiar?"
"I believe I've seen a Christmas tree or two in my time, yes." She can't help smiling in the face of his irritatingly infectious enthusiasm. "I just...well, I have a tree in the loft. I usually just pay somebody to take it down and get it decorated. I get home from work and there it is. Like magic."
"That, Harriet Makepeace, is the absolute opposite of magic." He looks so horrified that she can't help the laugh that escapes her. "You just wait, angel, I'll show you magic."
"It's about fifteen feet high." She looks up at the tree, and so does he, that fact alone telling her it's too big.
"Don't exaggerate." He grins, glancing at the tree and then at her before he apparently concedes that if it's four feet taller than him then it's too big. "But yeah, this one probably is too big."
They move on, weaving through the rows of trees, dodging the many other people who have apparently also decided that today is the day they must buy a tree. The next one he leads her to, his hand in hers as he pulls her over to look at it, is not as tall but it is, she's pretty sure, the widest tree that's ever been grown.
"Can I remind you that they really do make good artificial trees now." She regrets her words almost instantly when a look of sheer disgust crosses his face. "They come in a box, all neatly packed, easy to assemble, easy to store. Like the one that is currently sitting in our loft."
"Wash your filthy mouth out." He shakes his head, looking like he can't quite believe she would even dare to make such an outlandish suggestion, then grabs her hand so they can continue their search. "I never want to hear the words 'artificial tree' come out of that beautiful mouth of yours again as long as we both live. Come on, we need to keep looking."
She knows when he's found the one he wants because he stops, squeezes her fingers and smiles at her. She smiles back and turns her attention to the tree, relieved that it's a good size but it won't put Trafalgar Square to shame, and that it isn't so wide they'll be breathing in for the next three weeks just to leave the living room.
"This is the one?" She asks, watching as he examines it like it's something he plans to own for three decades, not three weeks.
"This is the one." He nods and hands the cash over to the guy who's been patiently waiting for them to make their choice, waving away his attempt to give him change.
They're still a ten minute walk from home and she's lost count of how many times they have stopped so far, this time with the tree leaning against a wall as they build up enough energy to pick it up and make it the rest of the way.
"I know what you're thinking, Harry, but you heard the guy, the earliest they could get it to us was Wednesday." His tone suggests he had told them it would be four months before they could deliver, not four days.
"Yes, I heard him." She opts not to argue, instead picking up her end of the tree, grateful that they're close enough to home that they shouldn't need to stop again, grateful too that it's late enough in the day to make it entirely acceptable to start drinking while they decorate the damn thing.
They make it clumsily up the steps, into the house, and somehow down the hallway and into the living room, where he carefully leans the tree against the wall and flops down onto the couch. She watches as he nods, looking so pleased with himself, so genuinely happy, that she pulls off her hat and coat, climbs into his lap, takes his face in her hands and kisses him.
"Thank you." He murmurs against her lips as she pulls back slightly. "I know you didn't give a damn about getting a real tree."
"No, I really didn't." She kisses him again and smiles. "But I underestimated how much of a damn you did give, so it's fine."
One hour, fifty-three minutes, several rounds of bickering, and almost a full bottle of wine later they have a fully decorated tree which even she's willing to admit makes the place look suddenly festive. He loves it, she can tell. She could tell even when they were fighting over the tangled lights that he loved it; his bright eyes, focused on the job completely, his smile, and the way he kept squeezing her arm excitedly every time they hung something new on the tree made it quite clear.
She sits down, leaning back, resting her head on the back of the couch, pulling him down to sit beside her, her eyes never leaving the tree, her gaze fixed first on the sparkling lights, then moving up to focus on the shiny silver star at the top. They sit in appreciative silence before she eventually turns to him and smiles.
"See?" His smile is even wider and he slides his hand onto her knee, squeezing gently. "Do you even remember how this room looked without a gigantic Christmas tree?"
"I...no, I'm almost certain that tree has been here since the very day I moved in." She indulges him because she can, because she wants to, because she loves him, and they both know it.
"You can play Scrooge all you want. I know you love it as much as I do." There's a smile in his voice and a glance in his direction confirms it, there's a small, satisfied expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes as he stares at the tree.
"I'm fairly sure that's impossible." She has to admit there's something ridiculously endearing about how much joy the tree is giving him. "But yes, I'm willing to concede that it does make the place look festive. It makes the one at work look like a dead twig."
"The one at work does look like a dead twig." He raises an eyebrow and nudges her shoulder. "A dead, plastic twig."
"That's true. Although I don't suppose the Met should be seen to be spending valuable funds on decorating its police stations." She nods, knowing that it isn't a particularly impressive tree in its own right, but compared to this one, to say it's disappointing would be a huge understatement. "It was enough to keep little Harry amused yesterday though, so I can't complain too much."
"Right, so imagine how amused a kid would be with a tree as good as this one, huh?"
"Oh God, I've just committed to this experience every Christmas for the rest of my life, haven't I?" She attempts to roll her eyes but her effort is beaten by his seemingly indomitable Christmas spirit.
"Yep. Until we're too old to carry the damn thing anyway. And by then, we'll have a bunch of kids all grown up so we can make them carry it for us. Problem solved."
"You really are incredibly focused when it comes to Christmas. It's…unexpected." She doesn't know why his love of all things festive came as such a surprise to her but she knows it's going to be something else to add to her list of things she loves about him.
"And you love it." The sweet smile he gives her solidifies her thoughts and she returns it.
"I love you, so yes…" She kisses him and reaches for the wine bottle beside him, pouring the last of it into the glasses he holds out in front of her and grinning as they clink them together. "I'll get used to it."
They sit quietly for a few minutes, finishing the wine, slightly mesmerised by the soft glow of the lights, their shoulders touching, his hand on her thigh. She thinks about last Christmas when they drew the short straw and manned the office while everyone else had the day off, she thinks about next Christmas when they will no doubt repeat the hunt for a tree all over again, and it makes her smile.
"What are you thinking about?" His voice is soft and she smiles.
"I was just thinking that it's funny, really, how sometimes nothing changes in a year…" His hand is still resting on her thigh so she takes it and squeezes his fingers. "And sometimes everything does. I'm glad this was an 'everything changes' sort of a year."
"Me too, princess." He drops a kiss to the top of her head and she sighs as she keeps her gaze on the Christmas lights, dancing brightly in front of them. "Me too."