A/N Little drabble / scene. I don't know where this came from, it just kinda popped out (okay, it may have been a combination of a lack of sleep, a caffeine high (why do all cold/flu remedies put caffeine in them?) and an all day Ashes To Ashes marathon).

Snapshot

"What's up with you, sulkyknickers?" he shouted, shutting the door behind him, "You got the decorators in or something?" There'd been a voice, somewhere, at the back of his mind, that reasoned this conversation would not go well. It had begged him, all the way, on his journey up the stairs and into Alex's flat, to tread very carefully. He'd ignored it, of course. She should have been downstairs with him, with the team. They had just closed a big case that very afternoon and, quite frankly, it had all been down to her - not that he was going to admit as much out loud. And she should be there, celebrating with the rest of them and then afterwards, if he was lucky, they could come upstairs and have their own private celebration. But as he wound his way around her sofa to face her he realised he should have listened to that voice or at least have come up with a better greeting.

It'd been Shaz who had pushed him to come up and talk to Alex, whilst the others, Ray especially, had bemoaned that her presence would mar the atmosphere. Though it was common knowledge amongst CID that he and DI Drake had 'something' going on, they tried to be discrete about it, working hard not to let it affect their working relationship (as Alex had put it); he probably over compensated in that last matter, though to be fair, he had beforehand too. He assumed it was this behaviour on his part that had caused her to hide away upstairs; it'd been a particularly trying case, lots of pressure from above and he'd been hard on her, on all of them really, but he and Alex had been at loggerheads from the start of the case.

As Alex looked up to him from her position on the sofa, knees up to her chest and arms wrapped around her legs, he realised Shaz had been right: there was something else bothering her, for once it wasn't him. But he hadn't noticed. It was like a sucker punch to the guts. He was shit at relationships, always had been. He had no idea how they'd made it this far, presumably she was a lot more forgiving than he deserved. Or she was even nuttier than he thought she was.

"Gene..." she began with a sigh but went no further than that, choosing instead to avoid his gaze.

He was suddenly very grateful for Shaz's intervention; he'd been torn between going to Alex and staying with the team, between being her lover and being their Guv, and the situation had been new to him. Usually, when she was pissed at him, then he knew about it - she had no qualms in telling him what an idiot he was. He would defend himself, they'd argue further, have a few drinks and then slope off when everyone else was too drunk to either notice or care. If it wasn't for the WPC he'd still be downstairs obstinately standing his ground and getting steadily drunk. "What's wrong, Alex?"

At his soft utterance of her name she raised her gaze back to his, wondering how to answer that, wondering how to tell him. Even after all this time she still found him hard to read, especially when his face defaulted to that stoney pout, but his eyes, those clear blue orbs that were currently studying her very closely, were becoming her way in. And even though he stood a metre away from her, his eyes told her he was right there with her. "They're late."

He stared at her for a beat, completely lost. She did this to him quite a lot, spouting nonsense and expecting him to keep up. He was sure she did it deliberately half the time, using big fancy words when plain and simple would do or just going all cryptic on him. He did a quick mental sweep of their last few conversations but, sadly, could not remember anything helpful. He was just going to have to bite the bullet. "Who are?"

The look of exasperation on her face was one he was becoming familiar with. He briefly wondered if he looked like that at times, because she certainly provoked the same reaction in him.

"The decorators!" She said this sternly, but somehow managed to keep her tone low. It wasn't his fault, she couldn't take this out on him. She'd had more time to think about this and had deliberately not told him anything - it was a bit much to expect him to keep up with her now. If the situation hadn't been quite so serious the change to his features - from utter confusion to complete understanding - would have been comical.

"How...late are they?"

She couldn't read his reaction, his eyes suddenly unable, or unwilling, to meet hers, his face now reverting to that stoney pout - the shutters had gone down. She wasn't sure what she wanted to see there or even what she herself wanted, for that matter. Three months ago it would have been so much easier. But three months ago there was no chance that this could have happened. Everything was different now, everything had changed whether she'd wanted it to or not. She willed his gaze to look back at her and was disappointed when it didn't. She knew then that she wanted this and that she wanted him to want it too. "A week," she answered finally.

He stared intently at his feet, unsure of what he'd find if he looked up. Unsure of what he wanted to see when he looked up. She was obviously upset about this; was it just that she might be pregnant or that she might be pregnant with his child? He struggled for the right words, just as he struggled with his own reaction to her surprise news. But he swiftly came to the conclusion that those magic words did not exist - whatever he said it would be the wrong thing.

"They never let me down," Alex said into the thickening silence, the words an attempt to convince herself as much as to get a response from him. And it seemed to do the trick as he finally met her gaze.

There'd been a response on his lips but it disappeared as soon as his eyes met hers. Instead, he took the few steps necessary to reach her and sat down by her side, his arm reaching out around her. He felt a little easier as she leaned her upper body into him, her arm snaking across his chest and holding on tightly. Deciding that this was a good sign he reciprocated, using both arms to embrace her and the - this time - comfortable silence to think about all of this.

She could feel his steady breaths, hear his heart pumping strongly, feel his hands caress her gently, but she never heard his voice. She needed to know, one way or another, but Gene wasn't a man who spoke of his emotions at the drop of a hat. Right then she was content enough to stay in his arms because actions spoke louder than words and he was still here, still with her. She had to give him time to process the information, then they could talk.