AN: Thanks eversomuch to the usual suspects for their discerning eyes!
Della set a hand gently on Perry's shoulder and leaned over the back of his chair. She slipped a scrap of paper into the book where he had it open on the desk and closed the large volume.
"I was reading that," he murmured.
"Yes, you were. Twenty minutes ago you were, and ever since then, you've been staring into space," she replied quietly, tucking the yellow pad into his top desk drawer. She also removed the fountain pen from his hand and screwed the cap on tight, setting the instrument in the holder at the far edge of the desk.
"I take it we're going home now?"
"We should have gone home hours ago," she responded. He moved like he'd been drugged.
Della had their coats by the time he was out of his chair. He tossed his over his arm and helped Della slip hers on. They were quiet on the ride down the elevator.
Della glanced left and right in her nightly half-hearted search for a cab.
"Any cabs to be had right now are dubious at best," Perry cautioned. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
It wasn't an uncommon scenario, and every time Della heard murmurings of what happened to women during the darkest hours of the night, she was more than willing to overlook the impropriety of spending those dark hours alone with Perry Mason.
He took her arm as they turned into the parking garage below the building. The silence was comfortable as Perry drove toward her apartment building.
It was only a short drive, and it passed quickly.
"Walk you up?" he asked. She nodded, as she did every late night like this. He eased the car into an empty space along the front of the building and extended a hand to help her out after him.
"Goodnight," he murmured quietly as she keyed herself into the building.
"Get some sleep," she insisted, turning around to face him before she closed the door behind her.
"Mhm," he answered noncommittally.
"Perry," she said with a bit more force. "Get some sleep."
He smiled and looked into her eyes. "Yes, Della."