-1Title:The Policeman's Ball

Pairing:Grace/Boyd

Rating:PG

Summary:His little black book had effectively dried up

Spoilers:Nothing specific but up to and including Series six to be Notes:Spending all day blistering medication your mind wanders and this is what you get. Something a little lighter than Clarity and Salvation.

Chapter Three

The taxi came to a standstill outside Grace's semi-detached house and she clambered out of the door, practically falling on the pavement. How they had gotten there was a haze, the last thing she remembered was sitting down at the table for dinner and vaguely disjointed fragments of conversation thereafter. Her main focus now was on her purse and trying to find the key amongst the plethora of things she carried around with her.

Climbing out after her, Boyd paid the driver, and watched somewhat curiously as the taxi drove away, disappearing around the corner. Glancing up and down the quiet street he wondered fleetingly how he was going to get home before he shrugged, deciding it was a problem for another time, and followed her up the path.

Grace tried to slip the key in the lock, watching as it circled and missed. However hard she tried to focus the silver key slipped, scratching the door.

Boyd stepped up beside her, watching with amusement at her attempts before he smugly covered her hand with his own and unlocked the door on the first try.

She playfully slapped his arm and stepped inside.

"Aren't you going to invite me in for coffee?" he asked playfully, wondering why he suddenly felt like a teenager again.

"Boyd, would you like a coffee?" Grace asked, staring at him as she tried to focus.

"Well my ride left." He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she opened the cupboard and lifted out two mugs. "Should I do that?" he asked as she almost knocked one of them onto the floor.

"Sure, why not." She waved her hand dangerously close to the boiling kettle and he edged her aside as he made coffee, feeling strangely at home in her kitchen.

Ten minutes later they sat drinking coffee in her small sitting room, the lights turned low to stay her ensuing headache, neither actually talking for once.

Grace was drunk, that she was certain off. She blamed it on the bottle of table wine with dinner, which was cheap and definitely of mixed grapes but drinkable or at least she assumed so considering how much she had consumed. It was unusual for her to let herself get into quite such a state, to reach the point of losing rationality, especially in her present company, but she'd reached a point in her life of no regrets. They were for the young. Scrupulously, she glanced at Boyd, wondering whether he felt quite as bad as she did, quite as disorientated. He was leaning back against her chair, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Strangely she felt safe having him there, settled in the familiarity. With a deep sigh she rose to her feet, fully intent on fetching him a blanket. It was clear he wasn't going to make it home and intending to leave him to sleep it off, she took a step. Her head spun and she reached out for the arm of the chair.

Boyd decided he had drunk too much when he opened his eyes and the artex on the ceiling made him queasy. He closed them again immediately and lowered his head onto the back of her sofa. A few hours sleep and a pot of coffee would make him feel himself again, that was if he could ever get home. He heard Grace stir beside him and he chanced opening his eyes again. It wasn't his wisest decision he quickly determined. As if in slow motion he watched her body sway.

Within seconds she felt his arms around her waist, his breath against her ear as he stopped her tripping into the couch. "Grace."

The sound of her name on his lips, his body pressing against hers sent shivers through her body. Fleetingly she wondered what would happen if she turned in his arms, if their lips met, whether they would be drunk enough, crazy enough to actually forget who they were. She banished it to the dark recesses of her mind where it belonged and righted herself, instantly missing the warmth of his body. "I need to sleep."

"Ok," he whispered.

"And I'm going to have a headache in the morning."

"You and me both."

"I'm going to go upstairs now."

He nodded, waiting for her to move, not fully sure what was happening. "Want me to help you upstairs?"

Grace gave him a small smile. "I think that would be a wise decision."