Hi, all! This was originally posted over on AO3 for the Forever Holiday Exchange. Many thanks to my recipient, htbthomas, for the prompts, which included: "Henry/Jo first date" and/or "Mike's take on Henry/Jo." Two of my favorite things. :)

I am not the kind of guy who eavesdrops on his co-workers. Ask anyone; that's not me. Between solving murders at work and the nightly bedtime battles at home, I've got plenty of my own drama. I don't need to creep around finding more.

Why, then, am I hiding behind an air conditioner on the roof of the precinct on Christmas night?

That's a great question. I wish I knew the answer. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the kind of guy I actually am. There might also be a touch of lunacy involved—as in actual insanity caused by the moon. I guess it doesn't really matter how I ended up here. No doubt Henry would work up some ridiculous but brilliant theory to explain it all, but I'm not asking him. Not when he's half the reason I'm currently squatting on tar paper and freezing my ass off for Christmas.

Ho, ho, ho.

I had just been finishing off my third Christmas cookie after dinner with the family when I got called into work. I wasn't that surprised; it's my year to be on call, and the holidays always seem to bring out the crazy in people. It makes a lot of sense, when you think about it. After a full evening of my brother-in-law talking politics, I was feeling a little crazy myself.

Jo and Henry were on call too, and we all wished each other a merry Christmas over a dead body in an alley. That's when the first Christmas miracle of the night happened. Henry did that thing where he looks at the crime scene for about half a second before he declares how the victim was murdered, only this time he didn't do that. Instead, he said he needed to run a test, but that he believed the victim had suffered an accidental death by his own hand (Henry's words, not mine. I'm not the one who learned to speak English in the Middle Ages or whatever).

If Henry's theory was right—and let's be honest, his theories usually are—I would be on my way home in no time. With any luck, my in-laws would be gone, the boys would be in bed, and Karen and I could make our own Christmas cheer, if you know what I mean.

Back at the precinct, Henry took a sample and submitted it to the lab, and Jo and I ran a few checks on our victim, none of which turned up anything even remotely suspicious. All we could do was cool our heels and wait for the test results to come back. Someone had flipped the TV station to a movie marathon on cable: twenty-four straight hours of A Christmas Story. I was happy to sit back and watch Ralphie shoot his eye out while we waited, but Jo and Henry got other ideas. Henry said something about a rare full moon, and Jo said she thought the clouds had cleared off, and off they went toward the stairwell. They invited me to join them on the roof, but standing outside and staring at the sky in December is not my idea of fun. Besides, I wasn't eager to add another spoke to my third-wheel status. It's getting worse every day as it is.

It's been over seven months since Henry told Jo his secret, and I've had a front row seat to every stage of the process. First there was shock and disbelief, then anger, then acceptance. Up to that point I could identify with her from my own Big Reveal experience. Now it looks like they've caught up to where they were before: best buddies who have the hots for each other but don't act on it. Yeah, that's where she and I part ways.

I don't know if they've admitted any of this to each other yet. Maybe they have and this is their awkward early dating stage, but I don't think so. Either way, I am not getting in the middle if I can avoid it. They can figure it out for themselves, and I'm not saying a word unless it starts affecting their work—or starts affecting my work with all the unresolved sexual tension clogging the air.

About fifteen minutes after they left, the lab called up with the results. Big surprise, Henry was right. Our victim had managed to stab himself in the thigh with rusty hedge clippers he had fished out of a dumpster. Don't ask me what kind of test proves that. It meant getting the rest of my holiday back, so I didn't ask either.

I texted Jo to let her know we were off the hook—no homicide means no homicide detectives—but her phone beeped in response from the top of her desk, where it was plugged in and charging. Henry was obviously useless in the cell phone department, so that left it to me to go find them. I sighed and headed for the stairs. In retrospect, I should have grabbed my coat, but I hadn't been planning to stay outside very long. I hadn't been planning to play hide-and-seek with an Extremely Awkward Moment either, but shit happens.

I found the access door to the roof propped open just a crack with an old flip flop. I pushed the door, and it swung open silently. The roof was a favorite spot for clandestine smoke breaks, especially for the maintenance guys, and they kept the hinges discreetly oiled. I was careful that the door stayed propped behind me; no one likes making the Call of Shame to a colleague or, worse yet, the desk sergeant when they get locked out on the roof. There's even a sarcastic desk trophy involved.

The night was clear and still, and the sounds of the city were muted by the distance to the pavement. I couldn't see them, but I could hear Jo and Henry talking from beyond the other side of the stairwell access, and I started making my way around the structure. It sounded like I had caught them in the middle of a conversation.

"No, I couldn't. I mean, thank you for asking, but I don't want to intrude on you and Abe's Christmas."

"It's no intrusion. I wouldn't invite you if it were."

"You're only asking because you know I'm alone tonight. Don't worry, Henry. I'll be fine."

There was a pause. "That's not the reason I'm asking."

"No? Then what is the reason?" He didn't answer immediately, and even from around the corner I could hear her sigh. "Do you even know? Henry, what am I to you?"

I froze just out of view. She had finally worked up the guts to break their stalemate and ask the question, and there was no way I was interrupting his answer.

"You know I care for you." He said it carefully, in a trying-to-repress-my-English-feelings kind of way.

"Yeah, I know. As a friend, right? And a partner? Maybe as your latest secret keeper too. I really am flattered, in a way. I know you haven't told that many—"

"No."

I waited for him to go on, but he didn't. She didn't say a word either.

My partner is not someone who opens up easily. If "no" was the best answer Henry could manage, maybe a little interruption would be welcome after all. I took the last few steps around the corner, but then I froze again.

Oh. He was answering her question. His hands were framing her face, and he was kissing her. Nothing deep and steamy, but I sure as hell never kissed my partners or "just-a-friends" that way. I'm pretty sure that was Henry's point as well, loud and clear.

Jo looked a little caught off guard, but she didn't pull away. After a moment, he leaned back just enough to make eye contact with her. I was subjected to some intense secondhand gazing into each other's eyes while they continued their silent conversation. Pretty soon she leaned in and picked up the kiss where they had left off, only a lot more enthusiastically than before. There were two sets of arms snaking and wrapping and holding, and he murmured her name, and she sort of hummed in response, and I suddenly realized I had witnessed their first kiss. In fact, I was accidentally still witnessing it, and that was officially creepy.

The closest cover I could find was a big air conditioning unit, and I ducked behind it. On the bright side, I moved before they noticed me, and before I saw any flashes of tongue. On the down side, I was cut off from the door by several feet of exposed space, I could still hear them, and I have a healthy imagination.

So here I am, still crouching behind a big metal thing, waiting for my moment to escape unnoticed.

Thankfully for my sanity, they seem to be wrapping up, but that's bad news for my freedom. If they were still locking lips I might be able to make a break for it. Now they're sure to notice if I stand up. At least the slurpy noises have stopped, thank God. I hear a contented sigh from one of them. Maybe from both.

"You know, there hasn't been a Christmas full moon in 38 years; not since 1977." Despite the tight shivering in the rest of my body, my eyes unconsciously roll when I hear that. He and Jo just made a life-altering change to their relationship, and he's still playing trivia with himself.

"Seventy-seven, huh?" She sounds amused that that's his choice of follow-up to their first kiss. She always has been the only one at the precinct who can handle the nutty way his brain works. "So the last time this happened, I wasn't born yet, and you were already an old man."

"I'm not sure I like the implication when you put it that way."

At least neither of them mention his actual age. After all, I could be any old schmuck from downstairs who came up for a smoke and hid behind an air conditioner. It's just their good luck that I'm the one person who already knows that "old man" means really, really, old.

"It's okay, Henry," she says in a breezy voice. "I'm usually creeped out by men who go for much younger women, but for you I'll make an exception."

"I appreciate that." I can hear the smile in his voice. "What I'm trying to say is that this is a rare night, but a woman like you is even more rare."

Henry Morgan, you are one smooth bastard.

Jo agrees with me. "You take your time, Doctor, but you get there in style." I hear coats rustling but no slurpy noises, so I think they're just hugging.

Jo seems happier right now than I've seen her since Sean died, and I feel a surge of goodwill toward Henry for that. I might feel even more thankful for this little Christmas miracle if I weren't distracted by the creeping numbness in my toes. The Abominable Snow Monster socks the boys gave me this morning are not very warm.

"We should probably get back downstairs," Jo says. "The test results might be back by now." The sound of her footsteps moving toward the door sends a jolt of panic up my spine. They are going to walk right past me in about four seconds. I am frantically thinking up lame excuses to explain why I'm here when Henry catches up with her.

"Jo, wait." I keep my sigh of relief silent when they stop just out of sight.

"What is it?"

"Hanson will find us if we're needed. Stay with me a little longer—please." His voice sounds more vulnerable than I've ever heard it, and I would bet my vinyl collection that he's looking at her with those big soulful eyes turned up to full power. Jo doesn't stand a chance.

"I suppose we have time."

"I hope so."

I try to ignore the sound of more kissing.

The footsteps pick up again, but now there are two sets, and they're moving away at a casual pace.

"So tell me more about this moon."

"Well, the December full moon is also called the Frosty Moon, or the Cold Moon."

"Imagine that."

"Why, are you cold?"

"Not anymore, I'm not."

Their voices start to sound further away and less distinct, and I risk a peek around the corner. Sure enough, they are strolling arm-in-arm toward the ledge facing their full cold moon, which, lucky for me, puts their backs to the door.

Now or never. I hustle back around the corner as quietly as possible, and I make sure the flip flop stays in place after I step through the door.

I can faintly hear them laughing as I tiptoe down the stairs, but I don't stop to listen. Like I said, I'm no eavesdropper.

Circling back to an earlier question, what kind of guy am I?

I'll tell you. I'm the kind of guy who is currently sitting alone at his desk watching a movie on cable so he can give his partner the gift of twenty more minutes before he interrupts her magical Christmas moment. You better believe that when the credits roll and I go back up to the roof, I'll be making a lot more noise. I might even bring those jingle bells I saw in the break room. Just call me Saint Mike.

Ho, ho, ho.