-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 Four
Grace opened her eyes, instantly regretting the motion as sunlight flooded her room through the open curtains. She inwardly groaned, rolling over onto her side and pulling the duvet up around her. It was then that she saw him and her stomach did the weird little flipping thing it always did when he looked vulnerable. Her brain instantly went into overdrive, flashes from the night before coming back to her then a sudden realisation. Slowly, silently, she lifted the covers, half relieved, half bemused when she saw she still had her lingerie on but somehow had lost her dress.
Boyd stirred beside her, mumbling incoherently as he tried to adjust his pillow, vulnerability replaced momentarily with annoyance then with contentment.
It made her smile to watch him sleep, his body as in consciousness constantly processing everything, the softening of his features as he gently awoke. Propping herself up on her elbow she continued to study him. As he shifted position again the duvet slipped slightly, revealing a little more of his chest and she noticed with satisfaction that his shirt had been discarded, his dress trousers folded over the back of the chair. There was some pleasure in the fact he had been coherent enough to undress them and had chosen to sleep beside her rather than roam her house in search of her spare bed. Fleetingly, she pondered missed opportunities, acknowledging that they had been given the chance to sleep together, to do what she had wanted for as long as she had known him but even inebriated and sharing a bed they had stopped at the waters edge. He would never let them get in that position again, and she would never know what she was missing.
Boyd rolled over again, his arm reaching out to slap the pillow that was crowding his face.
Grace glanced down, mentally calculating the last time she had felt a man's face in her cleavage. She concluded it was long ago enough to want to savour the moment. His breath tickled her skin and she suppressed the urge to run her fingers through his hair.
His hand collided with something that clearly wasn't a pillow, his fingertips teasing the soft strands of hair. He stiffened as the previous nights events came flooding back and realisation hit. Opening his eyes she came into focus, the smile he loved so much teasing at her lips, her hair tousled from sleep. Gamely, he allowed his eyes to wander momentarily, blaming an impending headache for his lapse in professionalism.
"Good morning, Boyd," she said, her tone light, almost relaxed.
He growled something in response, as his eyelids fluttered shut. A thousand thoughts flittered through his mind, as he chided himself for being stupid enough to allow himself to awake in this situation, berating his career for putting the imaginary line between them, his fingers toying with her hair as he imagined what it would be like to continue his exploration, knowing that it was far too whimsical for someone usually so grounded.
"Would you like coffee?" she asked, unconsciously leaning into his touch.
He pulled his hand away and she instantly missed his touch. The longer his eyes remained shut the more she contemplated how embarrassed he was, how silly she was for even thinking he would want to be with her. "I'll make a pot."
"Great."
Climbing out of bed, she retrieved her robe from the floor by the dresser and padded downstairs, trying and failing to smooth her errant hair. As she routed around in a drawer for some painkillers she was glad to have some distance between them. Somehow or another they had to work together, to move beyond what she knew would be, to everyone, awkwardness.
Boyd appeared in the kitchen doorway five minutes later, in his tuxedo, his top buttons open, his tie trailing out of his pocket and she could barely stop herself staring.
The minute she had left the bedroom he had rushed to get dressed, thankful that his clothes were neatly folded and not tossed around the room. Taking a deep breath he had contemplated just where he had allowed their friendship to step over the imaginary line, acknowledging finally that it had been inevitable. Unfortunately he knew that time and circumstances would never be in alignment. So when he caught her staring, he misinterpreted her action for embarrassment and he hated that their friendship had to be tested by something so silly. "I'm going to call a taxi."
"Ok."
He retrieved his mobile from his pocket. "I'm going to need the address."
"Yeah." She nodded, scribbling on a piece of paper, seconds from adding her phone number and making a comment about the bane of singleton life and men never calling. Turning away from him she half listened to his call as she poured two cups of coffee, adding just enough milk to make it the way he liked it. She shook two pills from the ibuprofen bottle and held out both for him to take.
"Thanks," he said, ending the call and swallowing the two pills. "He'll be here in five or so."
"Ok." She hated that she couldn't string a sentence together but he looked so out of place she really wasn't sure how to make him feel comfortable. Of course the fact he had seen her half-naked was probably not helping matters. She wasn't twenty-five anymore after all.
"Thanks for the coffee. I'll wait outside."
"I'll see you at work."
He smiled and she actually thought it might be alright. Instantly he looked away and Grace knew the road ahead would be bumpy.