Mike leaned back and patted his stomach. "Well, I think that hit the spot." He sighed happily.

Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, Steve dropped a piece of crust onto his plate and chuckled. "It sure did with me." He tossed the napkin on the plate and sat back in the chair, chuckling. "Thank you again."

Mike winked. "And again, you're welcome." He stared at the empty, greasy box on the table between them. "Do you think we eat too much pizza?" he mused after a beat.

The younger man snorted. "Well, if you listen to your daughter, yes, we do. But I think she assumes we eat it a lot more than we actually do."

"Do you think so?" Mike was looking at him through wishful eyes.

"What, that she thinks that, or that we don't eat it as often as we actually do?"

The older man frowned. "Both, I guess…"

Steve grinned. "I think both things are right - that she thinks we eat it more than we do."

Mike's frown grew deeper then he slowly shook his head in confusion. "Well, I'm not giving it up… I like it too much."

"Me too." They shared a good laugh, then Steve gestured at Mike's still elevated forearm with his chin. "How does it feel?"

Glancing down, Mike shrugged. "I don't feel a thing, other than it's still a little swollen. I'll be glad to get it out of this sling, though. It's very uncomfortable." He wriggled slightly as if to emphasize his point. "How's your head feel?"

Steve had picked up his can of Coke and taken a sip. "I still have a dull headache and the stitches still hurt a bit but it could've been worse."

Mike nodded, making a face. "Yeah, to think we both could've been wiped out because of a dog…"

Steve nodded noncommittally, looking down at the table and absent-mindedly pushing his plate a little further away. "Do, ah, do you know if they're going to press charges?"

"You mean like 'dangerous driving' or something like that?"

"Yeah, something like that…"

The older man pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't think so. Charlie didn't say they were, and you or me would have to lodge a complaint or something for them to do that, and I don't particularly want to… do you?"

Steve shook his head sharply. He glanced across the table. "You want another ginger ale?" he asked quickly, a little too quickly Mike suspected. He watched as Steve picked up the empty soda cans and turned to the counter.

"Sure," he said softly, frowning. When the young man returned with two fresh cans and started to sit, he asked, "So is there something you think you should tell me?"

Looking up from the table, Steve met the inquisitive blue eyes sheepishly. He cleared his throat. "She, ah, she came to see me last night in the hospital."

Mike's expression didn't change as he froze. "What?"

Clearing his throat again a little louder, Steve looked down at his hand on the table. "She came to see me before I was sent up to the room last night. They'd just put stitches in her forehead and she was going home…. and she came in to apologize…"

The older man was staring at him without moving and Steve wasn't sure how he was taking the news. He swallowed heavily, suddenly unwilling to disclose anything else until he had some idea how his partner was going to respond.

"So what did you say?" Mike asked finally, his tone frustratingly even.

Still not sure what was racing through the older man's mind, he pursed his lips and smiled self-consciously. "She, ah, she was so full of guilt, and so remorseful…" He paused, but when Mike didn't fill the uncomfortable silence, he pressed on. "After all, everyone's said it WAS an accident…" He took a deep breath. "She's really sweet and sorry and… and -"

"Pretty," Mike said flatly, his expression not changing.

Steve froze, a look of guilt flashing across his face, and he squirmed slightly. "She's DDG, like we used to say back at Berkeley…" he chuckled.

"DDG?" Mike asked, his eyebrows rising slightly, willfully taking the bait.

The younger man grinned. "Drop Dead Gorgeous."

"I see." Mike pursed his lips again and looked down at the table, pushing his own plate further away from the edge and taking a deep breath, stalling for time. It was a tactic he used to great effect during interrogations and it almost never failed to rattle whoever was on the other side of the table. It didn't fail this time either.

Steve chuckled self-consciously, staring at his partner's downturned head, trying to wait him out. Eventually the blue eyes drifted up from under the still lowered head to meet his own.

"Am I to take it from your… discomfort that you persuaded her to give you her phone number?"

Closing his eyes and sighing, not completely surprised that Mike knew him so well, Steve exhaled loudly, nodding, lips pressed together in a tight line.

"Have you called her?"

Another nod, another swallow. "Ah, yeah, this morning, just after I talked to you."

"And…?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Ah, she wasn't home. I left her a message… and my phone number. So… the ball's in her court now, so to speak."

Mike finally lifted his head. "She's a real looker, is she?" There was a lightness in his tone that was totally unexpected and Steve grinned.

"Oh yeah…"

The older man chuckled and shook his head slightly. "You just be careful, you don't have the greatest track record when it comes to women, you know."

With a chastened smile, Steve wrapped both hands around his Coke can on the table and bobbed his head. "Oh, I know. I'll take it slow and keep my wits about me," he chuckled, quickly raising his right hand in a modified Scout's Honor salute, mimicking the gesture his partner liked to use.

Mike made a face at him, shaking his head in mock exasperation. His eyes automatically shot down towards his left wrist, which was still held diagonally against his chest in the sling, and growled in frustration. "I haven't gotten used to not having a watch yet," he mumbled by way of explanation as he looked at the wall clock. "Well, I better get out of here, let you get some more sleep. It takes me a lot longer to do things at the moment." He put his right hand on the table and pushed himself up. As he started to the front door, he turned back and there was definitely a twinkle in his eyes. "You didn't tell me her name."

Steve frowned for a beat then smiled. "Oh, ah, Linda."

"Linda…"

The younger man shrugged. "That's her 'American name' she said."

"Oh, I see. Well, ah, tell her I said hi," he chuckled as he continued to the front door.

# # # # #

"Hello."

"Um, ah, is this Steve?"

A surprised and happy smile exploded on his face; he fought valiantly to keep it out of his voice. "Yes, it is… is this Linda?"

"Yes, it is," she said shyly. "You, ah, you left a message on my machine…"

"Yes, I did," he bailed her out quickly, sensing her hesitation. "I, ah… so how are you feeling? How's your forehead?"

"Oh, it's, ah, it's pretty good. Still a little sore and my back and shoulders are stiff, but I feel okay. How about you?"

"Same. I'm stiff and sore and my head still hurts but, all in all, pretty good too."

"That's good. How is your partner?"

"Mike?" He wanted to give her the name without her asking. "He's doing great. As a matter of fact, he came over here earlier and we had a pizza. He, ah, he told me to say hi."

"He did?" She sounded incredulous.

"Yep."

"You told him about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? Didn't you want me to?"

"No, no… um, I guess I need to apologize to him too, hunh?"

"Well, I'm sure he'd like to meet you."

There was a slight tense pause. "That would be great…"

He chuckled. "Look, ah, why don't we do this face to face. Now I'm not supposed to leave my apartment for the next several days, and I promised everybody I wouldn't," he rolled his eyes to himself, "but I'd like to see you. Now I know you don't have a car right now," he laughed gently, trying to keep the sting out of his words, "but I live on Union just off Montgomery, towards the Bay. Where are you?"

"North Beach."

"Oh, then you're not far. Is there any way you can make your way over here sometime tomorrow?"

"Well, I'm going to go to work tomorrow… I don't have much of a choice," he could hear her shrug over the line. "But I work just down on Montgomery near Sacramento, in a bank. I finish at four. Why don't I pick us up something for dinner, grab a cab and come over…?"

"I'd like that," Steve said warmly. He settled back on the sofa; this was going better than expected. "So, have you got a pen and paper handy? I live on Union…"

# # # # #

"Hello."

The voice on the other end of the line sounded impatient and Mike almost took the phone away from his ear to stare at it. "Why are you so grumpy? Did I wake you up?"

"Oh, sorry, no… no, ah, sorry, ah, what's up?"

"Well, I was just calling to see how you are, but I guess I really don't need to ask, do I…? Having a rough day?"

Steve snorted, sort of in apology. "Ah, no, as a matter of fact, it's turning out to be a very good day. How about you?"

Intrigued, Mike almost didn't hear the question. "What? Oh, ah, I went in to the office. Got some paperwork done and brought Dan and Norm up to speed on the Wharf murder… what do you mean you're having a very good day?" When there was a beat of what could only be interpreted as an embarrassed silence, he ventured. "Did you talk to Linda today?"

Steve sighed. "Oh yeah…"

"Is she there by any chance?" Mike ventured after a silent beat.

"Oh yeah…"

"I see. Well, ah, I'll let you go. En-, ah, enjoy your evening. Say hi for me and I'll talk to you tomorrow. And remember, you're under doctor's orders not to… exert yourself, right?"

"Right. Talk to you tomorrow." Steve hung up and stared at the phone with a warm smile for a long beat. He pushed himself up from the sofa and walked back into the kitchen.

Linda was putting open cardboard containers of Chinese food on the small table and she glanced up with a wide grin as he stepped through the doorway. "Was that your partner?" she asked brightly, and he knew she would have heard his side of the conversation in the small apartment.

"Ah, yeah, he says to say hi again."

She chuckled as she stuck spoons in the open containers. "Mike, right?"

"Right."

"I really do want to meet him."

"He really does want to meet you too."

She laughed then gestured at the table with her chin. "Dinner's ready. Dig in while it's still hot."

He pulled out a chair and sat, inhaling deeply. "That smells amazing."

She unfolded a cloth napkin as she sat. "Well, like I told you, these are dishes that the normal American doesn't eat… authentic Chinese food. I guarantee you'll love it."

"And this is from your parents' restaurant?"

"My grandmother's actually. My parents run it now but she still does what she can. I am the only one in my family who didn't go into the restaurant business."

As Steve started to spoon some of the noodles onto his plate, he glanced at her with a frown. "How do they feel about that?"

She had picked up a dumpling with her chopsticks and dropped it on her plate. "How did your parents feel about you becoming a cop?"