Mickey raised his glass. "To Smithy!" he cheered, managing to spill a portion of his drink on the table, earning him a shove to the shoulder and teasing remarks from the Sun Hill officers around him.
But the cry was picked up, and glasses raised, voices calling support and contraulations for Inspector Dale Smith. The promotion had been a popular one, well deserved in the eyes of everyone gathered at the table celebreating Smithy's victory over the Devlins. Noticably absent was Callum. Either jellousy over his former fellow Seargent's promotion or in the knowledge he knew the truth about Smithy beating up Devlin, Smithy wasn't too bothered. All he knew was that here and now, there were friends around him, people he trusted, slapping him on the back and supporting him. The faces, over the years, had changed - though some familiar ones did remain. There was Mickey, boyish and clumsy as ever. Smithy owed a lot to him, a debt of friendship he would never forget. Tony, who's attitude and laugh never changed, merely the amunt of grey in his hair. And new faces, some he'd only known a year or to, but were all a dedicated part of his team.
Then there was Stevie.
"Cheers!" Hollered the voices, some at various stages of being slightly to severaly tipsy. He drank deeply, with a nod and a quick grin. "Appreciate it, everyone." He nodded, never having been the best with words. But he had large shoes to fill now - not so much Rachel's, before him, but Gina's, before her. He ould do everything he could to make sure the job, the station, she loved, kept going.
"So, Inspector Smith, how long are you planning on keeping old-timers like me and Roger around?" Tony, who had had two or perhaps three too many, asked from the other side of the table. Roger, who had drank twice as much as Tony but looked twice as sobor, rapped the table indignantly. "Oi, less of that, old-timer yourself!"
Smithy waved them off. "Nah, I like having the two of ya around - makes me look younger in the group photos, yeah?" His comment was greeted with general laughter from the table as a whole.
It was a good night, filled with light banter and joking exchanges. Smithy hadn't allowed himself to lighten up that much for a long time, but it as hard to resist - a celebratiion in his name, the name cleared after the Devlin court case, the refugees safe... Stevie laughing beside him.
One by one the releif headed for home. Mickey begged off with a mountain of paperork waiting for him the next morning, amid Banky's claims the pile on Mickey's desk was a permanent one that had been standing since his arrival to Sun Hill, never seeming to grow any smaller. Sally, any drink more than one generally too much for her, was taken home in a taxi by Ben, ever looking out for her. When Stevie was the next to make her farewells Smithy rose with her. she lived nearby, close enough to walk, but not close enough he'd have her go alone.
Goodbyes, many slurred, followed them as they made their exit. The cool evening air refreshed Smithy, and he lifted his head a little, closing his eyes for one moment as he drank in the freshness. Stevie looked up at him, outlined against the street lights, tall and reassuring. Another woman had once called him a knight in shining armour. Stevie knew she was right. She was sorry she hadn't been the one to meet him first, but knew his past was a part of who he was, that accepting him meant accepting that. As they strolled together his hand found hers, and they made most of the joruney in completely comfortable silence.
"Stevie, can I ask you something?" His voice was so serious she turned to him immedately, half apprenhsive at what he felt the need to declare to her.
"Course."
"What's 'Stevie' short for?" She nearly laughed out loud.
"Stephanie. And if you ever, ever call me that, I will have to kill you."
He grinned, letting her hand go only to throw his arm around her shoulder. The walk to her front door was over too quickly.
They hovered, Steevie on the single step, caught in the ineviatble awkward moment. Eventually she laughed softly - she still had to reach up, even with the step, to plant a quick goodnight kiss on his cheek.
Before she could pull back a firm arm went around her waist, a hand guiding her cheek so he could kiss her properly, with a sudden fire neither of them expected. She pressed closer, locking an arm under his shoulder to pull them even closer, her other hand sliding behind his head and carrassing his hair. She was panting when they finally broke apart, and he looked equally shellshocked.
"No apologies." She said softly before he could speak. "Not between us. Not anymore."
He smiled, the warm, wide smile that very few people ever saw anymore. "You're an amazing woman, Stevie Moss."
She kissed him again, trying not to let it feel like a question. His response was shorter, but sweet, dedicated, promising.
"Not tonight, then." she smiled, resting her forehead against his. She felt the sublte shake of his head. "When we do-"
"I know." She couldn't resist pressing a last kiss to his lips, letting him know she understood completely, that he could take the time - and that when he was ready, she'd still be there.
"Sleep well, Stevie." He reluctantly dropped her hand, and she smiled at him once last time before he slipped inside.
Conviction - Smithy had it in spades.
So, there you have it - I know, no plot, just past mistakes, and future hopes. Tried to keep it to the series... because someday, you can tell, they'll be together.