Nothing is Real
Word count: 761
Rating and warnings: T
Description: Bobby thinks about Alex and can’t center on his work. Bobby POV.
Oh dear, what a day. Alex and I had been out in the cold for half the day, looking for witnesses; in my eyes a few had not been quite so kosher.
Back at One Police Plaza, the very first thing we both did was lean against the big radiator in the Major Case office. We stood in silence for more than ten minutes, got defrosted again and thought about the evidence.
Alex shook so badly that I mustered up all my courage and body heat and wrapped her in a brief hug, rubbing her back. “I’ll start the paperwork, you should go home. Go to bed, wrap into your comforter and get warm again,” I suggested.
She looked up, directly into my eyes and nodded.
“First, I’ll take a shower here, maybe it’ll help to melt me out,” she said with chattering teeth.
“Okay, why don’t you try that,” I agreed, and sat behind my desk, while Alex locked her weapon away. I opened my leather folder and reread the collected evidence as Alex smiled a last time toward me before she left in direction of the locker rooms.
I was bent over the reports and found myself distracted by the thoughts of her, wet and naked, washing her indescribable body under the shower. Why was my brain turned to mush by those few words? It was not the first time she’d said something like that to me.
I read the curious words of Justin Meyer for the third time and still didn’t get what he said, so clear was the picture of my petite partner before my inner eyes.
The call of “Hey Goren, sleeping with your eyes open?” Brought me back again into the Major Case. Wheeler stood beside the desk and smiled down at me.
“Don’t let the Captain see that you’re day-dreaming while work,” she laughed, and followed Eames into the shower rooms.
I rubbed my eyes and attempted to concentrate again on the files. It didn’t work. I couldn’t centre on anything other than Alex. Jeez, it had been never so out of whack, so strong.
I resigned, stood up and went into the kitchen. I made a big hot chocolate for Alex, so she’d have something warm in her stomach before she left and then I made a hot tea for myself.
After a half hour, Alex came back to our desks. She’d changed her clothes. Now she was in blue jeans and a thick, woollen, gray jersey with a v-neck. She’d bound her damp hair in a chignon, so I could see her slim neck very well. Dear, she looked so beautiful. Even in a refuse sack she would look phenomenal.
“I made you a cocoa,” I said, trying to hide my trembling voice.
“Mhm, thanks Bobby,” she responded a bit shyly, and lowered her eyes. Did she blush around her sweet nose? She didn’t look at me again ‘till she drank every last gulp of the hot liquid and dressed for the trip home. I didn’t know why. Had I done something wrong? But I relaxed again as I heard, “Should I take you home on my way? It’s too cold. You shouldn’t take the subway.”
“Yes, that would be very kind of you.” I smiled and caught her eyes. She let me hold them for a few moments before she smiled back.
I got dressed, wrapped myself into my coat and knotted my scarf around my neck. I passed Alex my hat. “Here, take it. Your hair is still damp.” She had forgotten hers at home. This was one of the reasons she had felt so frosty the whole day.
“Thank you,” my partner said, and set it on her golden hair.
We both left the building and went to Alex’s Honda. It was cold in there, but not as cold as outside. We left our coats and gloves on until the heater made it comfortable.
Carefully Alex drove toward Brooklyn; the snow deadened the traffic noise but there were the same numbers of cars in the street as there was every rush hour.
As we passed the half way mark, I dared to ask, “Do you want to stop for a drink at O’Malley’s?” It was the little bar we visited sometimes after work for a drink or two.
“Good idea,” Alex agreed. She looked for a brief moment toward me, smiled, then looked back again at the traffic and indicated. She parked the car at Prospect Park. We left it and ran quickly through the cold to O’Malley’s.
That was written before they told us Bobby’s exact address in Brooklyn and that Alex’s changed her home from Rockaway.