Her Light & Tender Heart [Completed]

At Last

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to the voters. It might just be a simple click for you, similar to hitting 'like' on Facebook, but it's utterly ridiculous to know how much joy vote notifications bring me. That little, tiny validation for all of the time, work, effort, (and of course fun) I put into writing the chapter, is so heartwarming. It's terrifying to hit that 'Publish' button, but votes do a wonderful job of saying that someone, somewhere liked the result.

A/N: I'm a sucker for the "Meeting Sang" stories, so wanted to take a shot at my own. :)

Dialogue from when Sean approaches Sang and McCoy to the end is taken word for word from Introductions. I just changed it to Sean's POV.

Six Years Later...

Sean's POV

"Who'd have ever thought we'd end up being best friends?" I mused aloud, eyeing the sphinx-like man sitting across the cozy office from me.

"I'm hoping this is a rhetorical question and not an invitation to travel down memory lane," he answered brusquely, eyes trained on the monitor in front of him.

I sighed, fiddling with the post-it in my hands until the seam folded how I wanted. The paper was rougher than what I was used to working with, but better than pretending I had something important to do like Miss Priss over there.

"Just an observation," I hummed, testing out the spin quality of my chair. There was a distinct creaking sound, but it was smooth enough to make a full circle with just the first push. "What are you even pretending to do over there?"

"I'm working," was his clipped response. Now some people might assume that Owen Blackbourne simply wasn't a morning person. But I knew better; he wasn't a morning, noon, or night person.

"Is that code for pinning?" I asked slyly, seeing how far my chair could lean back before creaking. About four inches; not bad. "Or tweeting?"

"You are aware that we're on the job, aren't you?" Owen asked evenly. "Two jobs, if we're being precise."

"You're always precise," I informed him with an eyeroll, pinching a corner of the pale yellow paper and going over the fold six times to make it as flat as possible. "It's part of your charm."

That finally got him to look away from the screen, but his unimpressed glance wasn't anything to feel triumphant over.

"Speaking of jobs, Dr. Green, shouldn't you be doing yours right now?"

"If you wanted to play doctor, Owen, all you had to do was ask." I playfully winked at him, earning an exasperated sigh as he turned back to that dumb monitor.

"Registration began hours ago," he continued, blatantly ignoring my invitation. "You know the boys wouldn't be anything but on time, yet I haven't seen you look at your computer again since you lost your tenth game of Minesweeper."

"I could've sworn I right-clicked the box!"

"I'm aware," he answered dryly, not sounding the least bit sympathetic. "In fact, you did swear it. Multiple times, and quite loudly."

Darn bombs.

"I hate being on surveillance duty," I sighed, letting my body sag bonelessly against the chair and barely refraining from stomping my foot at the injustice of the world. "It's so boring, and the boys won't be doing anything interesting today."

"Maybe you shouldn't have chosen rock, then," Owen suggested lightly, click-clacking along on his keyboard as if he were competing for the Fastest Typist of the Year award.

"You always choose scissors!" I shot back, kicking off my loafer and using my foot to jiggle the mouse around. The screensaver vanished, and I saw six lovely squares of black and white video footage pop up. The quality was abysmal, but it's not like I needed HD to watch Victor pick his nose.