It's getting harder and harder to not just- kiss her.
Not to walk up to her and greet her with a quick peck on her lips, or lean down when she is smiling or brush a hair out of her face when she is trying to puzzle out their latest case.
It's probably a little pathetic, that all his fantasies are so mundane and domestic, without any thought about what would come after if any, but he can't quite make himself to care.
In all his life he loved desperately and with a burning passion, and he still feels that, but this quiet, calm, sort of love is completely new to him.
He's confused by it, not quite knowing where to put it, how to spell it out, but every time he brings it up to Linda she is smiling at him proudly so he must be doing something right after all.
It occurs to him later, when they try to take away Lux. When she stands with him and listens to his stories about famous people who passed the nightclub's door. When she shows up with the legal work saying he is safe to stay.
(When she holds her mother's gaze tears streaming down on her face and refuses to call him a liar.)
She feels like home.