"Boy oh boy oh boy, if I'd known that making you sleep in an extra hour would get you wound up like that, I would have thrown you off the couch at 6am sharp."

Mike knew his partner was livid, when he never acknowledged the facetious remark, not even to turn around and glare at him. Surprised by Steve's usual cheery disposition having gone sour that fast, he grasped his partner's shoulders from behind and carefully massaged the tense muscles hiding underneath the expensive black suit, causing Steve to slow down, then stop altogether along a nearby wall.

"Just take a deep breath, will you? What is it that has you all worked up about Thompson? That's not like you at all."

Glaring straight ahead, he witnessed Steve fighting an inner battle between lashing out, or containing his anger out of deep respect and admiration for his best friend. In the end, the young Inspector exhaled slowly and shook his head.

"Let's just forget about it, okay?"

Unwilling to swipe the issue under the rug, Mike held on to Steve's shoulders and peeked around them to face his young partner.

"Do you want to know what I think, Buddyboy?", he nudged and smiled broadly, "I think, he reminds you of some of the people from your…your rebellious years at Berkeley. You know, here you are, protesting the war, getting beat to an inch of your life representing what you believe in, and over in the other corner is the feel-good crowd, the people taking the easy road, the ones who just like to sit around and talk, smoke grass all day and have a good time, but won't actually do anything to support their cause. You may be wearing a suit and a badge now, but I bet that still has you fired up after all these years."

He could hear Steve grind his teeth and draw in a deep breath, before finally glancing over at him. The set of warm green eyes meeting his told Mike he was right on track before anything was ever said.

"I can't stand it when people use drugs to hide from reality…and responsibility. They make it sound like it's some cultural pursuit, some superior agenda, when it's nothing but cowardice."

"You are really hot under the collar, aren't you?", Mike teased and wrapped an arm around his partner's shoulders, before gently steering him toward the exit, "Let me ask you this then. Surely, this isn't the first time we've come across recreational users. And maybe…during your…more colorful days at Berkeley, there had to have been opportunities to indulge in some of those vices…so why get all worked up now?"

"Yeah, I've smoked grass before.", Steve mumbled woefully, as both detectives reached the long hallway toward the main floor once again, "But I wouldn't make a habit out of it. And I certainly didn't use it to hide from my…my responsibilities. And when it was time to grow up, I stopped using."

"Boy, I sure am glad that I'm partnered with a sixty-year old man inside the body of a 30-year-old one. All that talk about responsibility, being diligent and mature, keeping your nose to the grindstone…you're starting to sound like my father."

His words made Steve spin around, confusion clouding his otherwise stern features.

"What are you talking about? You say it's ok what Thompson is doing?"

"No, I am not saying it's ok. Easy now, just…just take it easy for a moment.", Mike chuckled, knowing that his partner couldn't stay angry forever when faced with that cheery smile, "I am saying that part of you is jealous of Thompson. That's what has you all fired up. You've spent so much time proving to everybody how mature and responsible you are compared to other guys your age; putting enormous pressure onto yourself to show that you are the epitome of law enforcement professionalism, trying to be on top of every derailed situation thrown in your lap and having all the answers to questions you've never even been asked before. But I think that a tiny part inside you misses those old days of foolishness. And you're jealous that this guy back in here can live them out to the fullest, regardless of the consequences, while you're stuck in custom-tailored suits putting in 60-80 hours a week."

Glaring at his best friend for a moment, Steve eventually lost the battle of wills and shook his head with a faint smile.

"I think you've been hanging around Murchison too much lately. You're beginning to read things into situations that aren't even there."

"Maybe so…", Mike countered warmly and reached forward to squeeze his partner's shoulder one more time, his eyes a reflection of the deep affection he felt for the young man standing across from him. A man who somehow, over the course of the past three years, had managed to become one of the most important people in his life.

"And I am not advocating for you to behave like Thompson whatsoever. I am just saying that you shouldn't silence that…that kid inside you too much, trying to be a responsible adult all the time. Because that kid inside you, he's not a bad kid at all. And I'd hate to see him hidden away in some folder full of regrets inside that incredibly bright mind of yours, Buddyboy."