Steve opened the heavy front door and stepped over the threshold, waiting for Mike to enter before closing and locking the door. He turned off the porch light as the older man wandered a little deeper into the living room then stopped and turned back.
"I know it's almost four in the morning," Mike said with a soft chuckle, "and I'm beat as hell, but I don't think I can go to bed right now. Do you?"
Snorting a short laugh and smiling, Steve slipped the keys into his sports coat pocket then started to take it off. "Me neither," he confessed.
"Good," the older man nodded definitively and clapped his hands together before taking his windbreaker off and draping it over the newel post on the staircase. "I think we can agree that's it's probably not a good idea to make a pot of coffee, but how about a cold beer for you and I'll treat myself to a ginger ale." He started towards the kitchen. "I don't think we have much in the way of snacks, but I do think there's a bag of peanuts in here somewhere."
"Peanuts'll be just fine," Steve answered with a smile as he tossed his jacket over the arm of the sofa and headed to the kitchen. Mike was standing at the open door of the fridge, just reaching in. "Here, let me do that," Steve said as he approached, almost pushing his partner out of the way. "Why don't you go sit down in the other room."
Mike stared at him through narrowed eyes for a long beat then backed away from the fridge. Though he was loathe to admit it, he was more stiff and sore that he wanted to let on, and he also knew he was fooling himself to think that his best friend wouldn't've noticed. "I believe the peanuts are in the cupboard above the stove."
Steve nodded as he reached into the fridge. Mike was sitting in the recliner with the leg rest raised and his eyes closed when he approached with the ginger ale. "Here," he said, holding the can out and Mike opened his eyes then reached for it.
"Thanks." He popped the tab and took a sip as Steve sat on the couch and took a big gulp from the can of Budweiser. His face expressionless, he asked softly, "How are you feeling?"
Mike's eyes snapped to him almost angrily then softened. "I'm sore," he answered simply with a soft snort.
"I'm not surprised. I think you should really take it easy for the next couple of days, don't you?"
Taking another sip of the ginger ale, Mike nodded. "Yeah, I will… except if Gerry needs to see us."
Steve chuckled. "Your lips…."
The older man tilted his head, his expression suddenly serious. "You having second thoughts?"
"About the 'reasonable doubt' argument?"
Mike nodded once. "Umh-humh."
The younger man looked down, his gaze unfocusing. He shrugged. "I don't know. It kinda feels like pissing into the wind though, doesn't it?"
Mike snorted, making a pained face at the crude analogy, and cleared his throat sharply. "Well, for what it's worth, I don't think so. And I don't think Gerry will either. He knows you… he likes you… and he trusts you… and I don't think you should underestimate that. Don't forget, he's in the enemy camp in all this. And he's under a lot of pressure from above, just like we are. And this… this 'reasonable doubt' that we've uncovered…? I think it's solid." He smiled suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "I like our chances."
Steve stared at him for a long beat then mirrored the grin, his eyes brightening. He swallowed heavily. "I'm beginning to like our chances too."
Mike nodded once, sharply. "Good." He frowned and looked at the coffee table then at the younger man again. "So where are the peanuts?"
Steve's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, uh… I found them, in the cupboard like you said," he explained as he got to his feet, "just forgot 'em." He headed towards the kitchen.
Mike watched him go, a pensive expression softening his features as he stared into the middle distance. When the younger man returned with a large bag of peanuts in the shell and four soup bowls, he looked up and smiled. Steve handed him two bowls, setting the other two on the coffee table before ripping the plastic bag open and filling one bowl on the table and one in Mike's hand. "Thanks," he mumbled as he set the now full bowl on his lap and picked up a peanut, the crack of the shell punctuating his nod.
Steve leaned back on the sofa and put his feet on the coffee table, balancing the bowl of peanuts on his stomach, the empty one beside him on the couch cushion. They ate in silence for a bit before Mike took a deep breath.
"Listen, ah," he began softly, looking at the bowl on his lap, "there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about but… well, you know, the time just hasn't been right…"
Frowning, Steve looked over. He suddenly seemed very concerned.
Mike caught the looked and snorted sharply, waving his left hand dismissively. "Don't worry, it's not all that serious. It's just… I don't know, it's just something I want to make sure you're aware of…" The younger man's frown got even deeper. Perturbed, as if realizing he was only making things more confusing, Mike looked pointedly at the bowl in Steve's lap, waiting until his partner finally picked up a peanut and cracked the shell.
Mike stared down at his own bowl again. "Look, Steve, I think I've known you long enough now to know what you're thinking… sometimes." He glanced up and flashed a warm smile. "And I think I know what you've been going through lately with all this… well, this Nicole Sanderson business. And I know it's not over yet but…" He tilted his head with a facial shrug. "Well, let's just hope that what we presented Pollard with just now will go a long way in setting everything right… but that aside…" He paused and took a deep breath. "Look, what I'm trying to say is… well, I don't want this to… to color the way you live the rest of your life." He looked up to see Steve staring at him with a confused frown. Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly and loudly. He let his head drop back onto the recliner and opened his eyes. "I'm not being very… eloquent, as you would put it, am I?"
Steve snorted softly, smiling. "Go on," he said with an encouraging chuckle.
Mike laughed gently. "Look, all I'm trying to say is… don't let what Nicole Sanderson's doing to you - or trying to do to you… well, don't let her change who you are." He shrugged.
The younger man stared at him for a beat then smiled slightly. "You mean the lothario lifestyle that everybody seems to think I lead?"
Shooting a peeved look in the direction of the couch, Mike sighed loudly. "No, that's not what I meant." He paused, as if taking stock, then raised both hands. "Listen, I may not… feel comfortable sometimes with the… well, the number of different girls I see you with… but that doesn't mean I disapprove with how you're living your life. Hell, I never got the chance to… to play the field, so to speak. I went off to war when I was a kid and I came back a man ready to settle down, which is exactly what I did. Who knows what I would've done if I'd had those years to, you know, sow my wild oats, so to speak…?" he chuckled, beaming.
Steve laughed. "Umh-hunh…" he muttered dryly.
They shared a warm moment, Steve finally reaching for a peanut and snapping the shell open, popping the nut in his mouth with a chuckle.
Mike stared at him. "Look, all I'm saying is, I don't want this to make you gun-shy when it comes to women, that's all."
Steve stopped chewing and his smile disappeared. His eyes became soft and bright as he looked at the older man. "Don't worry," he said gently, "I won't let you down."
It seemed to take a second or two for what he said to sink it before Mike grinned. Laughing, he looked down at the bowl in his lap and picked up a shell, cracking it in one hand. "That's what I wanted to hear," he chuckled softly under his breath.
The sound of peanut shells cracking and aluminum cans hitting the tabletops were the only sounds for a couple of minutes as they enjoyed each others' company. It was Steve who finally broke the silence as he dropped the empty shell from a recent casualty into the bowl on the couch beside him. "So, ah, so what happens, do you think, if Gerry doesn't think Martin has a valid point?" he asked softly.
A quick hiccup in Mike's cracking of a shell was the only indication that the question had thrown him slightly. But he didn't look over as he separated the nut from the broken shell and popped it into his mouth. He chewed a couple of times before he swallowed then inhaled deeply. "Well… I don't think that's gonna happen but if it does… well, I'm not gonna give up. You didn't do it. I know it, you know it… hell, even Gerry knows it… and if clearing your name turns out to be the last thing I do in my career… well, so be it." He smiled and shrugged.
Steve tried to smile to but his lips were trembling too much and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Chuckling self-consciously, Mike made a show of looking at his watch. "Oh, jeez, look at that… the sun'll be coming up soon. " He looked up at the younger man who was still staring at him. "I think we should get some sleep just in case Martin calls to say Gerry needs to see us. We've gotta be at the top of our game, buddy boy… and I don't know about you, but I need more than just a long nap to make that happen." He picked the bowl up off his lap and put it on the side table then closed the recliner, getting to his feet.
Steve didn't move. "I, ah, I'll just finish these," he said quietly, lifting his own bowl slightly then reaching in for another peanut. "I'll be up shortly."
Mike stared at him for a long beat then he smiled. "Okay." He winked. "See you in a few hours," he chuckled and turned towards the stairs.
Steve watched as the older man disappeared onto the second floor then, if it was at all possible, slumped even deeper onto the couch. He absent-mindedly reached for another peanut and slowly tore it in half. He raised the nut to his mouth then stopped. The back of his throat was constricted and he was having trouble swallowing.
He stared into space, breathing softly and evenly through his nose. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift back over the past few years, marvelling once again at the direction his life had taken. Then, completely unaware that it was happening, warm tears began to slide gently and slowly down his cheeks.