"So, I have to admit, and no offence to you," Steve began enigmatically as he and Mike picked up their wine glasses and started towards the small, already set dinner table. The smell of the ragu sauce permeated the small but elegantly decorated North Beach apartment and both men paused briefly to sniff the air in anticipation before sitting. "It's… interesting to be with someone who generates as much attention from… certain people as I assume you think I do…"

Mike snorted. "What do you mean 'think'? Do you know how many times over the past few years I've had to stand there while women, no matter what their age, stare at you while answering my questions?"

"That's because they don't know you, Mike," Linda said emphatically as she entered from the kitchen with a plate of garlic bread and put it on the table.

The older man looked at her with gratitude, "Thank you," he nodded, shooting a sneer in the younger man's direction.

"That's not what I meant," Steve defended himself, leaning back in the chair and shaking his head in mock exasperation. The other two laughed; Mike glanced at Linda with a wink as she disappeared back into the kitchen. "I'm just saying that Ethan looks like the stereotype of a surfer dude and, hey, this case we're handling is in The Castro, after all…" He shrugged.

Chuckling softly, Mike raised his drink and took another sip of the expensive Chianti he had brought. "Do you want to be re-assigned?" he asked dryly, trying to hide his grin behind the glass.

Steve shot him an annoyed glance before continuing, raising his voice just enough so Linda could hear him in the other room. "So there we are trying to re-interview all the employees of the bar where the guy was drinking before he headed out into the street and down to the bodega… and there's me and poor Ethan trying to fend off all the… offers of drinks, cigarettes… joints… and… well, you get my drift. You name it, we were offered it. I swear to god, Mike, if I wasn't a cop…" He chuckled wickedly and leaned back in the chair.

Mike's broad smile turned serious for a brief moment. "You just remember that you are, all right?"

Steve laughed softly and threw his partner a half-hearted salute. "Don't worry about me."

"So did you get anywhere?"

The younger man shook his head. "Not really, but we're just getting started. The vic was a Tuesday night regular at the bar and the guys in Robbery were already thinking that he was followed from the bar to the bodega, and that maybe robbery wasn't the motive, although the guy's wallet and watch were stolen."

"And the watch hasn't popped up in a pawn shop yet?"

Steve took a sip of his wine and shook his head. "Not yet. Maybe too soon. We're not even sure if the vic had a credit card; we're still waiting on that."

"So what about the vic? Was he part of a couple? Did he live alone -?"

"Okay, enough shop talk!" Linda announced from the kitchen door as she entered, oven mitts holding the handles of a steaming lasagna pan, which she set on a large trivet in the centre of the table.

"Oh my god, that smells amazing," Mike whispered almost reverentially as he followed the journey of the pan from the doorway to the table.

Steve grinned. "Told ya." He shot a proud glance in her direction and she smiled shyly back at him.

"So," she sighed as she took her seat, "no pressure, right?" She looked at Mike and made a 'Yikes!' face and he smiled at her warmly.

"If it tastes even half as good as it smells, it's going to be wonderful, I'm absolutely positive. And I can't wait to dig in."

Smiling, she reached for the serving spoon. "Gentlemen, hold out your plates," she instructed as she cut through the layers of pasta.

As Mike watched her spoon the lasagna onto their plates, he hoped once again that it was a wild goose chase he was on, especially when it came to this extraordinary young lady. He set his plate down and reached for his knife and fork stealing a sideways glance at his partner. Steve was staring at Linda with what could easily be interpreted as deep infatuation, if not outright love, and Mike hoped that the road he was travelling would not destroy both their worlds.

# # # # #

"Are you sure you're not Italian?" Mike joked as he put his coat on, standing at the door of the small apartment.

Beaming at him, Linda patted his upper arm as he adjusted his collar and put the fedora on his head at a rakish angle. "Not even a little bit," she chuckled warmly.

Mike winked at her then looked at Steve, who was still sitting on the couch. "I'll see you on Monday… sometime. I'll be in and out of the office all day. There's talk going around they want to 'reorganize' the different divisions and I want to make sure they keep their hands off Homicide."

"If anybody can do it, it's you. I'll see you Monday." Steve raised his wine glass and nodded as Mike turned to Linda.

"Thank you once again, my dear," he said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. "That was one of the best meals I've had since, well, since my daughter was home. And that's the highest compliment I can bestow, believe me."

"Well, then I accept it with humility… and thanks. And thank you for that incredible wine."

"Hear hear," echoed Steve from the couch, picking up the empty bottle and holding it aloft.

"You two have a great… evening," Mike swallowed his grin as he stepped into the corridor and Linda closed the door behind him.

She turned to look at Steve, raising her eyebrows. He grinned. "You were a huge success, in case you missed it."

Laughing, she crossed to the couch and dropped onto his lap, throwing her arms around his neck.

# # # # #

It was starting to rain slightly as Mike drove south towards Potrero. His was gripping the steering wheel much harder than normal, transferring his internal struggle onto something that could silently take the abuse.

He hated lying to his partner; it went against everything he believed in. But he also knew that, in this instance at least, it was the right thing to do. If it turned out his gut instinct was actually wrong this time, then he would have spared his young friend needless heartache.

He stopped at a red light and let his hands slide off the wheel, flexing them slightly. He took a couple of deep breaths.

Never in his life had he wanted so much to be so wrong.

# # # # #

He looked up from the file he was studying and stared through the glass-paned office door at Ethan Collier crossing the bullpen towards Steve's desk. He chuckled softly to himself. Steve was right; Collier did look like an aging but still strikingly handsome surfer dude.

His attention returned to the file. He asked asked for the R&I reports on 'Chin' Han, and Bo and Judy Yudong. He wanted to make sure he was fully prepared when he confronted Judy about any possible connection with Linda and the mysterious woman with the little dog. The knot in his stomach tightened a little more.

He picked up the coffee cup near his right elbow and brought it to his lips, then pulled his head back in revulsion. It was stone cold. Not the tastiest coffee at the best of times, it was downright disgusting when it was cold.

He got up and left the office, crossing to the coffee station. Steve and Collier were still poring over something on in a report, neither bothering to look up.

Suddenly the main door banged open and a loud familiar voice filled the air. "Well, well, well, now that didn't take long!" Norm Haseejian bellowed as he led his partner through the anteroom into the bullpen. "That didn't take any time at all!" His laugh was deep and sardonic, and he glanced back at Healey with raised eyebrows.

The Irish sergeant was holding a sheaf of papers in his upraised hand and sporting an equally wide and almost lascivious grin. Both detectives turned their focus to Steve and Collier.

Frowning slightly, a curious smile curling his lips, Mike turned away from the table, absent-mindedly stirring his coffee, knowing whatever these two were going on about was usually worth the attention. Every eye in the room was now riveted on the pair of very animated sergeants.

Healey stepped closer to Steve's desk and slapped one of the pieces of paper down on it. From where Mike was standing, it looked like a flyer with a big picture on the top half and writing, mostly in bright pink, underneath.

Both Steve and Collier leaned forward to stare at the flyer, then Steve threw himself back in his chair with a loud, mortified sigh and Collier straightened up quickly, tugging at his jacket fronts and looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Healey, beaming widely, handed one of the flyers to his partner, who held it up as he turned to face the rest of the bullpen. Everyone, including Mike, took a step forward to get a better look. It was definitely a picture on the top half, a close-up photo of Steve and Collier which had obviously been taken during their visit to The Castro the previous Friday. Both of them were wind-blown and smiling slightly; it was a good shot of two handsome young men. Underneath, in shocking pink and circled with gold stars and red exclamation marks, were the words 'San Francisco's Finest?'. There was even a small Rolling Stones tongue logo on the bottom right corner and lipstick prints on the left.

The entire bullpen burst into laughter, Healey and Haseejian leading the way. Even Mike was having a good chuckle. Collier turned red, refusing to lift his head to meet anybody's eyes; Steve, still leaning back in his chair, fixed his partner with an accusing stare. "I told you…" he mouthed over the din, prompting Mike to continue to chuckle, shaking his head as he returned to his office, closing the door behind himself.

Steve turned his not-so-amused stare on Healey and Haseejian, who continued to laugh annoyingly. Healey took a step closer to the desk and tapped the flyer. "I'll, ah, I'll just leave this one with you," he chuckled evilly, holding up the other copies in his hand. "I have enough to paper the building with -"

Steve shot forward on the chair, reaching for the flyers but falling way short as Healey took a quick step back and raised his other forefinger. "Ah, ah, ah… these aren't yours," he taunted as he waved his finger and backed slowly to the centre of the bullpen. He started to hand out copies to eager hands.

"You wouldn't…?" Steve's tone was both threatening and beseeching.

Haseejian turned to him and grinned. "What? Paper the building?" He chuckled mockingly. "Really, after all these years and you ask me that…? Silly boy…" His head swivelled back to watch as Healey continued to hand out copies of the flyer. "Besides, they're all over The Castro already, so…?" He chuckled again.

Steve looked through the glass wall of his partner's office. Mike, once more behind his desk, his reading glasses on, glanced up as if he felt the stare boring a hole into the top of his head. The blue eyes snapped to Healey, instantly taking in what the grinning sergeant was doing, then back to the younger man. With a smirk that could only be interpreted as 'you're on your own', his eyes dropped back to the desk.

With a frustrated sigh, Steve sank back into his chair, glancing up at a thoroughly embarrassed Collier as they watched their colleagues inordinately enjoying themselves.