Episode tag to 1.12 "The Leak," several weeks post-episode, in which Myles's near-death experience leads two pairs of our characters to a very particular kind of understanding and a third pair to come to a very different kind of understanding.
AN: longest of these one-shots yet! Don't worry, the rest will continue to vary wildly in length. ;) Never know what to expect with me! Meanwhile, as far as shooting pool in the den, assume casual rules, not tournament rules. And I counted about 12 times but am still convinced that I probably have it wrong, so if I had one ball too many or one ball too few sunk . . . um, mentally adjust accordingly, I guess? Or just don't count them yourself and assume that it's all correct. ;)
See the end for two more notes.
~0~
The team was gathered around the dining room table at the Gans' house, enjoying a dinner Dimitrius and Donna had invited them to while their kids were away at Donna's parents' for the weekend.
Toward the end of the meal, as there was a slight lull in the conversation, Myles said, "Well, um, I have something I'd like to say to everyone, if you don't mind."
Typically, an announcement like this from Myles would have been met with groans, but there was something particularly serious in his voice that told his colleagues now was not the time.
"Um, I want to thank you all for your, um, patience with me these past several weeks, as I learn to process the, uh, the trauma of having been shot. I, um . . . it's not my usual way to even be willing to call it that—uh, trauma, that is—but my, um . . . ." He cleared his throat, preparing to admit something only one other person present had known about until now. "My therapist has been . . . encouraging me . . . to make sure to call things what they are, and, uh, and to open up to the people I care about, and, well . . . most everyone I care most about is in this room right now. So, um, thank you."
Everyone was still looking at one another trying to decide the best way to respond when Myles cleared his throat once more and added, "And I want to offer my particular thanks to, um, to Agent Thomas, who, with her keen sense of observation, noticed when something was wrong and came to check on me when I was, um . . . uh, having a, uh, a panic attack at one point, after the reality of how close I came to losing my life really hit me." Sue smiled and nodded her acknowledgement. As a somewhat lighter-hearted but no less sincere afterthought he added, "And of course my thanks to Levi the Wonderdog, as well, who stayed with me even after Sue left, to give me some canine comfort and help me calm down."
"Wow," Bobby said after a moment. "Myles, that, uh . . . that took some real courage, mate. I'm proud of you."
"We're all proud of you," D added.
"You can tell because the last time I saw that look on D's face was the day our youngest learned to ride a bike without training wheels," Donna teased, causing laughter all around.
"It really does get you thinking, though," Tara put in. "I mean, Myles isn't the only one who's had to process. Uh, don't get me wrong, Myles, it was definitely a lot worse for you! No doubt. But still, it's gotten me thinking too . . . about how much you all mean to me." She scanned everyone at the table with her eyes, but when they landed on Bobby, she gave a subtle cough and quickly looked down at her plate, pushing her food around a bit as she continued. "How much each raid could be anyone's last. I mean, we always know that, but we never really think it will be, you know?"
"And we shouldn't," Jack added. "If we start thinking it will then we run the risk of that becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy."
"Sure," D countered, "but while that shouldn't change how we approach a raid, it can still change how we approach life."
Donna reached out to take D's hand. "A couple months ago, after the whole fiasco with that convict Dugan stalking our family for revenge on D, the two of us had a conversation about the importance of working at our relationship at least as hard as we work at our jobs and at parenting our children. It's something we've really been working on since and it's made our relationship a lot stronger. And while that's not the exact same for everyone, I think the overarching principle can carry over into anyone's life."
"A wise woman told me," Myles said, with an obvious reverse-nod toward Sue, "that even though I would never run through the door of a raid the same way as I did before that bullet lodged into my vest, I would also never look at a sunset the same way. And you know, she was absolutely right. I sit at this table with all of you—and I don't look at this time with you the same way that I would have seen it before. And that's for the better. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating everyone go out and get shot!" They all laughed. "But, um . . . I think that just having that perspective, thinking about how you survived everything you did today—not just as FBI agents, but traffic in the city, just living in a city like this, or even something as mundane as taking an elevator or the stairs that we don't even think about but we know people have died during—can really help you appreciate where you are and everything you've come through to get there so much more."
"Plan like you'll live forever, but live each day like it's your last," Lucy said.
"I like that," Sue responded. "Did you just make it up or did you hear it somewhere?"
"My dad used to say it. I'm not sure where it came from."
"It's a twist on something Ghandi said," D threw in. "'Live each day as if it were your last, learn as if you'll live forever.'"
"I like both versions," Jack said. Everyone agreed.
"Well," said Myles, raising his glass, "here's to planning, to learning, and most of all, to living."
~0~
After dinner, they all retired to the basement den that D jokingly called his "Man Cave" even though Donna would invariably argue that she was in there at least as often as he was. D and Donna were still upstairs cleaning up after dinner at this point, but had insisted that their guests were not allowed to help and were to go enjoy the den ("Man Cave." "Den." "It's my Man Cave." "Dimitrius, so help me—") while their hosts got everything cleaned up and put away.
Jack had almost immediately said, "Uh, Sue, can I talk to you for a minute? I just . . . want your opinion on something," and led her over to the furthest corner. Everyone else exchanged knowing glances, nobody buying his excuse.
Bobby and Myles struck up a game of pool, and Tara asked Lucy if she wanted to play next. As it was not Lucy's favorite game, she declined, so Tara called playing winner instead. As players and observers alike laughed and joked, Lucy tried to stay engaged in the conversation but was often distracted as her curiosity drew her eyes back to the two who had retreated to the corner.
~0~
"So, um, what'd you need my opinion on?"
"Well, um . . . ." Jack rubbed the back of his neck.
"You didn't really need my opinion at all, did you?" Sue asked, smirking.
"Well, I do . . . sort of. I just need to tell you something first. Um, about what we were all talking about upstairs."
"About appreciating life and everything?"
"Well, and particularly about . . . about how we never know what might happen, and should live each day like it was our last."
"But plan like we'll live forever," Sue replied.
"Right. Well, I think I've been doing a little too much of the planning part and not enough of the living part."
She tilted her head. "In what way?"
"Um . . . well, there's this . . . really great woman . . . and from the day I met her, I really wanted to ask her out . . . ."
Sue's face fell and Jack's heart broke at the sight even as it gave him hope. He sped up a bit to get to the part that would make his meaning clear.
"But I also knew she would be a really great addition to my team." Her disappointment morphed into slight confusion merged with—was that hope?
"I put my team first and she has been . . . amazing. Phenomenal. But while she's been an invaluable addition to the team for the past, uh, four months, one week, three days—" Now she smiled, clearly now certain that he meant her, but also looking pleased that he knew exactly how long she'd been on his team—"she's also been . . . working her way more and more into my heart. And, um, I don't . . . I don't think if something were to happen to me, that I would regret, um, being or not being on the same team, nearly as much as I would regret not giving . . . us . . . a chance. But the thing is, I looked into it and we wouldn't actually have to choose—I mean, there are ways that we could, um, maybe, date, and also stay on the same team. I-if that's something you also were interested in doing," he rushed to add. "That's, that's the part I need to know your, um, your opinion on."
For the two or three thundering heartbeats that he waited for her response, Jack wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't go into another heart attack. Then she broke into her million-kilowatt smile and said softly, "Took you long enough."
~0~
Bobby won the pool game, so Myles and Tara swapped places. As they were doing so, Lucy let out a little squeal and a, "Yessssss!"
Everyone followed her gaze to the opposite end of the room where Sue and Jack were engaged in . . . not exactly FBI-sanctioned activities for partners to engage in.
"Figures," Myles muttered, though he had a slight smile to see the two who had been dancing around each other for months finally admit their feelings. "I get shot and he gets the girl. How's that work out?"
"Because you cheated on the girl," Lucy said, then immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Myles, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
He stopped her. "Luce—don't. Don't apologize. You've got nothing to apologize for. In fact, um . . . can, can you come over here and talk to me for a minute? I just, I want to tell you something."
She eyed him cautiously. "You're not going to try to do that, are you?" she asked, indicating their lip-locked colleagues.
He smiled a little. "Not on your life. I just need to tell you something. Or—I think you need me to tell you this."
Curious more than anything, she rose to follow him.
Once they were far enough to speak softly and not be overheard by Bobby and Tara (nobody was worried about Jack or Sue so much as realizing anybody existed in the world besides them, much less the room) Myles said, "Look, um . . . I don't blame you for bringing that up again. I know I've apologized for, and I quote, 'everything,' but I never really specifically apologized for cheating on you. I apologized for not appreciating you, but that's not quite the same thing, and I just . . . you need to know that you never, ever deserved that. And I am so very, truly sorry.
"But, um . . . I can never make it right, I can't change it, and there's nothing that will excuse it. But if you're open to it, I can explain a little of why—not to try to make it okay, it wasn't okay or excusable no matter what. But only because I want to make sure you know that it was never, not for one second, because of you."
She contemplated for a moment, wary, but at this point she figured if she didn't hear what he had to say she would spend the rest of her life wondering if it would have been worth hearing. "Okay," she finally said slowly.
He sighed. "Luce . . . you know better than any of our teammates just what kind of . . . people . . . I grew up with."
"Slimy ones?"
He puffed out a small laugh of agreement. "To put it mildly. I always swore I'd never be like them, but you know, there are some things that are very hard to shake. I was a Leland, I grew up being told how I was better than everyone else just for that, but I watched my father cheat on my mother—well, actually both of them cheat on each other and use whomever they wished for their own gains—and . . . well, the reality is, I'm in the FBI because I care about people and I want my life to mean more than the gilded hell they live in, but to my family it's only a position of prestige and power, and they want me to move up in it for that purpose. The fact that I remain a field agent is almost a blight on my record to them. But I always swore I wouldn't be them. They said to be a Leland was to be proud, to be the best. I saw how they were not the best and I . . . I swore that I would be better than they were."
Lucy nodded her understanding, but it still didn't answer so many other questions. "Then why—?"
"Don't worry, I'm getting to it. I . . . when we started dating, I really truly was attracted to you. I mean, it'd be hard not to be, you're a very attractive lady! But unfortunately, that was not my sole motive, and I'm ashamed of my other motive. As you . . . I'm sorry to recall . . . found out rather the hard way, my parents can be . . . ."
"Racist jerks?"
He nodded. "You actually said that more politely than I would have, I'm impressed. But yes. And I . . . admittedly, I relished the idea of being able to shock them with you. So, when I started realizing that you and I were, um . . . less than compatible, as far as personal interests and life goals, and it was clear to me that you only wanted to stay with me because, well, you wanted to be wanted—" She opened her mouth to object, but he stopped her. "Which does not bother me, and is a place I've been many times in my own life—when I realized this, I did not do the honorable thing and break up with you kindly. Instead, I convinced myself that staying with you so you felt good was somehow more honorable, when the truth is . . . I still wanted to be able to use you to embarrass and shock my parents, and that is one of the worst reasons I have ever made a decision in my life. So for that, too, I am so very, very sorry."
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she didn't seem angry or upset, or really even surprised. Only sorrowful to have it spelled out so clearly.
"The trouble is—well, to quote Mr. Darcy, 'I was given good principles'—" he smiled at her wryly as he added, "—some of them—'but left to follow them in pride and conceit.' Or, more to my present point, I'd determined that I wished to have good principles, but was trying to decipher how to follow them having only known the bad ones under which I was raised. So rather than endure the discomfort of a difficult conversation to end our relationship, I did the very thing I'd sworn not to do—followed in my parents' footsteps and sought the company of another with whom I was not in a relationship—thereby only hurting you worse than if I'd simply ended our relationship when I realized that should happen. And worse, when the truth came out, I treated both you and Ms. Thomas badly rather than accept responsibility for what a bungling mess I'd made of it all."
He sighed once more. "Lucy, I need to tell you what I should have told you then—before seeking out another woman. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman. Your personal interests and mine do not overlap nearly enough and I fear if we were together for the long haul we would make one another miserable. But somewhere out there is a man who won't just be able to tell you the obvious facts of how beautiful and wonderful you are, he'll click with your soul in a way that neither you nor I have ever yet experienced." Pausing, he gestured to Sue and Jack, who were still busy with one another in the corner, and said, "Exhibit A."
Once they'd recovered from their laughter (much though they tried to suppress it) he ended with, "That man, whomever he is, will be the luckiest man alive to be able to be with you. And I only hope to one day find the woman with whom my own soul clicks as well, and to believe myself the luckiest man alive to be with her. Just because we didn't click with one another, doesn't make either of us any less, just not a match."
She sniffled back her tears that had long since been falling and managed to croak out, "Thank you, Myles." With a crooked smile she added, "You're right, none of that makes it acceptable." Then she pulled him into a hug and whispered, "But you are forgiven."
~0~
Bobby and Tara were shooting pool and trying not to look over at Sue and Jack all but making out in the corner. (Another glance over erased the all but from that. They were definitely making out.)
"Welp," Bobby said, racking up the balls. "Looks like a certain bloke and shiela took Myles's words about not wasting time to heart."
"Yup," Tara agreed. "They aren't wasting any time."
"Mmm. Winner breaks?"
"Lady breaks."
"Flip you for it?"
"You got it."
Bobby flipped a coin, Tara called tails, Bobby caught it and slapped it onto the back of his other hand.
"Tails," he confirmed.
While Tara was lining up her shot, she said, "Imagine working together so long, so obviously both liking each other, and neither of them said anything. I'm almost glad Myles got shot if it finally knocked some sense into those two." She smacked the cue ball into just the right place, sending balls scattering around the table and one rolling into a side pocket. "Solids," she called.
Bobby let out a low whistle. "Impressive."
She raised her eyebrows as she smirked at him, then sunk another ball before she missed her next shot, muttering a curse under her breath.
"Ooh," he teased, "you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"
She snorted as she stood back to watch him take his shot. "What boyfriend?"
"Oh, what happened to what's-his-name?"
"Marty?"
"I dunno, was he the latest? Or, um . . . who was that other one, real creeper?"
She rolled her eyes. "That could've been any of a long list. Honestly, Bobby, the selection out there is . . . slim. It's ridiculous."
He sunk two balls of his own with his first shot, then another with his second, before finding himself in a tricky spot and not quite managing the right angle.
"Eh, I never thought any of those guys were worthy of you anyway," he said. "I mean, you deserve better than some second-rate slob who relies on you to make the money while he lazes around all day." He watched as she sunk another ball.
"I don't mind being the breadwinner," she argued.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, luv, I'm all in favor of women bringing home the bacon and men keeping house if that's what works for them, but the men staying home have to actually do something for that to be the case. I dunno, I never got to know any of those guys well but I've always had the impression from how you talk about them that they've all being either lazy or rude or downright jerks."
She moved a ball closer to where she wanted it, nudging one of his out of the way at the same time, but not sinking hers. Then she shrugged as she stood up. "I mean, that's why I'm not with them anymore. Gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you get a prince, right?"
He studied the table rather than her face as he considered that statement. "I just never understood how a great sheila like you didn't have princes lining up around the block, frogs not included." Another shot, and a striped ball went into a pocket. Unforutnately, he'd accidentally sunk one of hers at the same time, and the cue ball followed them in, forfeiting the rest of his turn and leaving only 3 balls each and the 8-ball on the table.
"Anyway," he continued as she leaned down to line up her next shot, "of all these guys has there really been nobody that you've been interested in long-term?"
She sighed, leaning on the edge of the table instead of taking her shot, and looking up at him. "Well . . . there's this one guy I've kind of had a crush on for a long time, but . . . that's a no-go."
He furrowed his brow. "Why not?"
She shrugged. "He's . . . always thought of me as a little sister. At least, that's the impression I've always had from him. I mean, if he were interested I think he would've said something by now." She returned to aligning her stick, the cue ball, and her next target.
He regarded her for a moment, then said, "Have you said something to him?"
Now she fully stood up, shot still not taken. "Of course not!"
"Well . . . maybe he thinks you see him as a big brother."
She thought for a moment, but shook her head. "I don't—I don't think that's the case."
He had a thoughtful look of his own as he cast his glance back at the table, then back at her. "Well, Agent Williams, we seem fairly evenly matched. What do you say we make this game a little more interesting?"
She arched an eyebrow at him. "Depends, what are you thinking?"
"If I win . . . you have to go out with a guy that I pick out for you, no questions asked."
She groaned. "Ugh, I hate blind dates."
He shrugged. "It's up to you. You never know, though, maybe he'll turn out to be your prince after all."
She contemplated, then said, "Okay, but . . . if I win . . . I get to give you a dare. Any dare, no backing out of it."
He considered for a moment, and then shook her hand.
As the game continued, he said, "This, uh, this bloke you fancy, he, um, anybody I've met?"
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Maybe." Another ball went into a pocket. She circled the table, seeking her next shot.
"Would I, um . . . would I approve of him?"
"Hard to say. I guess it depends on . . . whether you thought he would be good for me. I . . . kind of doubt you would think so, though."
"Why not?"
She shrugged, shuffled some balls around the table but didn't sink another one, and stepped back for him to take his turn. "I don't know. Just a . . . feeling." She cleared her throat. "What, uh, what about you and that journalist lady? You still seeing here?"
He shrugged. "We went on a date or two. Never declared anything exclusive. She's, um, she's great and all but . . . there's this really great girl, I've known her a while now, real bonza, you know?" He sunk two more shots, then missed.
"Yeah?" Tara's next shot went down.
"Yeah, but, um, I never thought she'd be interested. Thought she didn't fancy me at all."
"Why not?" Another solid into a pocket and Tara was circling the table looking for the best way to attack the 8-ball.
"Well," he said carefully, "I've, uh . . . always tried to treat her with respect because, um, she's just an amazing woman in so many ways. About the best I've ever known, really. I've also always been a bit protective of her because, well, because I care about her and don't want anything to happen to her. But, um, it's recently come to my attention—"
"8-ball, side pocket," she said as she bent to aim. Not wanting to throw her shot off with his next words, he placed his hand on hers before she could shoot and she looked up at him. He had perched himself on the edge of the table, right next to her, and was gazing down at her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat.
"It's recently come to my attention," he said softly, "that in trying to be both respectful and protective, I may have accidentally come off as though I thought of her as a little sister, when the reality is, nothing could be further from the truth. The way I see her gorgeous, brilliant, funny, adorable self . . . is anything but familial."
She searched his eyes a moment, then allowed a small smile to break through as she grasped the truth of his words. Turning back to the game, she said through her smile, "8-ball, side pocket."
She jabbed her cue at the cue ball, sinking the 8-ball with no difficulties, and straightened to face her erstwhile opponent.
"Looks like you win, luv," he said softly. "What's the dare?"
She took his cue stick and her own and hung them back on the rack, feeling his eyes on her with every movement. When she returned, she stood much closer than she usually would, looking up at him as she said, "I dare you . . . to kiss me."
Her words were met with his full, heart-melting, deep-dimpled smile. "Oh, luv. That's not a dare . . . that's a dream come true."
He bent to kiss her lightly, but when he started to pull back, she caught the back of his head and pulled him back to her, seeking to shift the kiss to something longer and deeper. It wasn't long before he had turned her to lean back against the pool table, and then she'd bent back onto the table, lying back as he pressed against her.
Until a booming voice interrupted with, "What is going on here?!"
~0~
Dimitrius and Donna had finished cleaning up from dinner a while ago, but took a little extra time for just the two of them before returning to the small crowd.
"Remind me," Donna teased, as they sat on the couch with D kissing her neck, "why we invited the whole gang over when we have no kids here?"
"Mmmm, because it's easier to entertain without kids," he responded.
"Uh-huh," she agreed, "but it's easier to entertain each other without company." He laughed into the crook of her neck, then sat up and placed another kiss to her lips.
"Baby, I promise you, they'll all leave by 10 at the latest. I've got them pretty well convinced that we're just an exhausted old married couple that can't handle staying up late. What we do after they leave is none o' their business."
"Mmm, I like the sound of that," she whispered, leaning in for another lingering kiss.
"Maybe I should go kick 'em out right now," he suggested. She playfully swatted at him.
"Oh, let's go hang out with our friends for a little while longer. Then we'll kick them out."
They headed down the narrow stairs to the den, D in front of Donna with his hand reaching back to maintain his link with his wife.
He was not prepared for what he saw when he got there.
"What is going on here?" he cried out.
At one end of the room, Jack and Sue were making out like nobody's business—and from the way they looked just at that moment, it was nobody's business! Directly in front of the stairs, Bobby and Tara were making out on the pool table, and he could only hope that was all they'd intended to do on his pool table, but the way they were going at it he couldn't be quite sure of that either. And on the couch on the opposite wall, forming the third point to the most literal definition of a love triangle D had ever seen, sat Myles and Lucy, thankfully not kissing, but wrapped in an embrace all the same.
At his voice, each couple sprang apart with varying levels of embarrassment. "I was just thanking Myles for—" Lucy began, but then she saw Bobby and Tara disentangling themselves from each other and working to stand up off of the pool table at the same time, and cut herself off with, "What the—?"
Meanwhile, Jack was stuttering out nothing that sounded like words, Sue had no idea what actual question had been asked but knew that they'd been caught out (and only then realized that there had been other people in the room with them this whole time anyway who had probably seen them kissing for—how long had it been, anyway?) and Bobby and Tara looked like they were trying rather unsuccessfully not to laugh.
"I, uh, I won the pool game," Tara finally managed to snort out.
"Pretty sure I'm the winner here, luv," Bobby teased back, and they broke into peals of laughter, before Bobby said to D, "Hey, thanks so much for a great evening mate, we're, uh, we're gonna get going. Donna, food was fabulous, thank you. Have a great night, everybody!" Then, hand in hand in much the same way D and Donna had just come down, Bobby and Tara darted up the stairs to gather their things and relocate their own private party.
"If I may," Myles said, stepping forward, "in the interest of not having regrets, Lucy and I were merely patching up some hurts from how our relationship ended and wishing one another well in future relationships. Uh, nothing more, I assure you."
"Yeah, no, we—definitely not. No," Lucy hastily added. "Um, but, Myles, Donna, D, um, I think I'm gonna head home early, um, it's been an . . . unexpectedly emotional night and I'm pretty drained. Um, Jack, are you going to get Sue home or—?" At his hasty nod, she turned back to their stupefied hosts. "But uh, thanks for everything, and, yeah, have a great weekend! I'll catch you all at the office Monday! Um, well, except you, Donna, but I'll see you when I see you." She headed up the stairs as well.
Behind her, Myles hastily added his own farewells, then ran up the stairs to catch up, saying, "Luce, can I walk you out?"
That left Jack and Sue, who were particularly disheveled and some combination of chagrined and extremely happy. "Um, I'm, uh, I'm sorry, D, um, we were talking, and, uh, one thing led to another, and, um . . . ."
"I should say," D muttered.
Donna let out a little giggle, which earned her a reproachful look from her husband, but she just shrugged, then reached toward Jack, not quite touching him, and said, "That's, uh, not your shade of lipstick, Jack."
He quickly wiped at his mouth, but Sue whispered something in his ear and though his face turned very red, he stopped wiping and quickly said, "So, uh, yeah, thanks for dinner, we're gonna go, um, see you at the office Monday, have a great weekend, bye!" and all but dragged a laughing Sue up the stairs behind him as she tried to call her own thanks over her shoulder.
Alone in the room, D turned to Donna, baffled at all he had just witnessed. His first question, though, was, "What did she just say to him?"
Donna smirked. "Hard to say for sure, but, uh, if it were me, and I responded to you wiping my lipstick off in a way that made you drag me off that fast? Probably something about how there was no point trying to remove it when she was just going to get more on him as soon as they got somewhere more private."
He huffed. "Maybe we should go make sure they all at least made it out of the driveway. You didn't put an aphrodisiac in that dinner did you?"
She laughed again. "Not that I know of, but if there was one I'll be sure to figure out what and put it to good use."
He didn't even notice her suggestive tone or her wink, as he stared at the pool table muttering, "I will never be able to play pool without remembering them there. They have desecrated my sanctuary." Then, throwing his hands into the air, he added, "And what a mess this will be to sort out for the team on Monday! I do not envy Ted Garrett his job right now."
Donna laughed, wrapping her arms around her husband. "You're forgetting one very important detail."
He sighed. "I know, I know, they're all lucky to have found each other. Well, except Myles and Lucy who I guess are just lucky to have a better understanding or something. Not sure what's up there."
She kissed his neck and whispered. "Okay, two details."
Finally getting his head out of what they'd walked into and back to his wife, and catching her tone and the magic her lips were working against his skin, he spun in her arms with interest and said, "Oh yeah? What's that?"
Taking his hands and slowly starting backwards up the stairs as she led him toward her, she said, "It's only 8 o'clock, and we've got the house all to ourselves."
"Oooh," he said approvingly as he willingly followed her gentle tugs. "Remind me to thank them on Monday."
~0~
AN2: Okay a few additional thoughts that I didn't want to say before lest I spoil anything:
1. I know a lot of ST fic writers like to put Lucy and Myles back into a relationship. I do not. I am a big fan of second chances and redemption arcs, and Myles really does get redeemed quite a bit after the fiasco that he is in the first several episodes, but aside from my overall disinclination for having her get back with someone who cheated on her - something that would be fine as long as he truly has reformed and will not do it again - but frankly, I just don't think their personalities go well together. HOWEVER, I did get thinking about it, trying to decide who I would put Myles with, and after reviewing about every woman in the series, I came up with someone who surprised me and I'm hoping to slip in a fic of them somewhere in here. Not sure exactly where to put it though because it won't necessarily link with any given episode. It's still my new favorite headcanon though, so keep watch for that.
2. I know that near the end of the series when Bobby and Tara have that one kiss, he tells her that he had started noticing all these things about her, but I've never bought that. And every time I rewatch the series, it reminds me just how often Bobby and Tara are standing near each other. So yeah, I have several BT fics that come before their "official" indication of beginning a relationship, because I strongly hold to my headcanon that I used in this - that they both were low-key crushing on each other for a long time but kept trying to squash it down because they both assumed the other would never be into them.
3. I'm sorry, I swear I tried to cut Myles's explanation to Lucy down but he insisted on being verbose! He and I tend to have that much in common, at least . . . .