For she who provides words, comfort and friendship, and whose birthday comes ever increasingly closer!

Disclaimer: i own nothing...if im honest im not entirely sure where this came from, but come it did! (ok that sounded dirtier than i meant it to)

It was the inevitability of it all that took her by surprise. The total lack of shock she felt when the moment finally came and she was the one who, striding across the room, caught hold of his hand and made him follow her.

Meeting him had been a complete fluke, becoming his friend had been a slow and tediously annoying process, and she had loved every minute of it.

Falling for him had nearly broken her.

Him saying the words out loud had started to heal her.

Her finally admitting to herself she loved him back had opened a part of her heart she had closed off for years.

And though the journey had been crazy, here she stood, fingers interlaced with his, his large, warm, palm pressed into her hand, pulse throbbing steadily.

Here she stood and it was completely inevitable.

She pulls him, ignoring the stares of those around them, the voice of her boss and her boys in the back of her head, they mean nothing now, just him, only him.

Hand in hand she pulls him, in the hall, into the elevator, the doors closing.

He looks at her, questions burning behind his eyes, but she's quiet, so he follows her lead and lets her hold his hand and stays locked by her side.

She drums her fingers against his skin, impatient. She's made the decision and now she doesn't want to wait.

She drums her fingers a lot.

She pulls him from the elevator, to her car, then she stops. She makes a decision he misses and suddenly she is hailing a cab, keys back in her pocket as she turns from him and using one hand she wolf whistles.

His eyes widen in surprise as she turns back, a small flirty smile on her face, it was hot, she knows, he knows, but neither say it.

She can tell that whistle will be something he asks her to do again, and probably not in the street. A fire starts to smoulder in the pit of her stomach.

She squeezes his hand, and he realises, as the cab pulls up, why she didn't want to drive.

She didn't want to let go. His heart beats faster at that.

She speaks then finally, but not to him, she mutters an address to the driver, before she sits back and leans into his shoulder, she links her left hand to his right, across his lap, before she releases his left hand and pulls it around her shoulder.

She wont let go.

He doesn't want her to.

Her head rests just over his heart and she closes her eyes as she listens to its steady beat, her hand and his, entwined, lay across his left thigh and she moves her thumb, brushing his skin.

She hears the beat of his heart speed up, just the tiniest amount, and she cant help the smile that bursts through her chest and swells her lips.

She tucks her head further into him and lets out a long steady breath. So unlike him, he hasn't spoken, he wont dispel the magic. She loves him even more because of that.

The traffic is slow, but not slow enough and, though he is fairly certain more lays beyond this moment, he would happily spend an eternity in that cab with her holding him.

The driver leans over his shoulder mutters something about love birds and she when looks up he's smiling, he says something back, she isn't listening though she's watching the way the muscles in his cheek move.

He smiles a lot, she should know these movements off by heart, she grins into his chest, cheeks growing pleasantly warm as she realises she does, she knows on some level she has become as aware of him as he is of her.

He turns and finds her watching him, pink cheeked and smiling back. There is something in her eyes, something new and exciting, something he cant quite read yet. Hope burns through his chest that today will be the day he learns what that look means.

She wants to take him somewhere special, she wants to do something that will express what he means to her. She does the only thing she can do. She takes him home.

They pull up outside a house he has never seen before, waiting as she removes herself from his arms, he hesitates, as does she, for a second, before she re-links their hands.

She leans over and he hears her ask the driver to wait. They wont be long.

She steps onto the curb, pulling him with her, another light smile as her exit is a graceful beauty, an artistry in moving whilst connected to another, and his is a stumbling lummox.

She pulls him, hands together and standing in front of the tiny, perfect, two storey house, she lets out a long sigh.

He expects her to talk then, which of course means she doesn't, when has she ever done what he expected? And instead she pulls a picture from her pocket and holds it out for him.

It's old, curled edges, dog-eared, loved.

The colour faded and he imagines her running her fingers over it through the years.

He takes it from her, watching her face as he does, waiting for pain, but instead there is just a need to share. She holds onto the picture briefly as he takes it, joint by this now as well, then she drops her hand and lets him read the message in her gesture.

He looks at the picture, and then back to the house. it's the same, except in the photo, the old and time worn photo, there is a family.

A little girl running, her long dark hair free and loose and flaring behind her, her arms are wide as she heads for a woman, a woman who looks remarkably like the one holding his hand.

The woman stands, tilted forward, her arms mirroring the childs, preparing to catch the energetic buoyant little human being that is bounding towards her. There is a visible and undeniable bond of love, snapped for eternity, between the two, his chest aches as he smiles.

He spots then, in the background, the shadow of a man.

He stands protective over his family, but his stance is relaxed, leaning onto the porch, watching the play between those he loves, his head hangs forward and there is a smile on his face.

It hits him then, she brought him home.

He lifts his face, with difficulty, from the photo in his hand and turns to her.

Her eyes are soft, smile small, but warm, she wants him to understand the importance of what she has done, what she has shared, and he does, she knows that. Its written across his face.

He doesn't give her the photo back, she loves that he doesn't, and instead it's tucked into his inside jacket pocket, over his heart.

It could be them in that picture, she thinks, she can see he thinks the same thing, it's a snapshot of the past showing them their future.

She cant help the smile then, a new smile.

She chose well.

The words echo loudly in her head, taking her by surprise, something her mother said floods back to her.

Choose the man wisely who gets your heart, choose once, and choose well.

Oh! And there is that inevitable feeling again, rushing through her body.

She lays her hand over his chest where he has stashed away her photo.

They lean towards each other, eyes wide, she tips up a little onto her toes to reach him and there is a voice behind them.

She laughs again, always interrupted.

She turns back to the cab pulling him with her as he moans, a long groan of frustration that he has, again, been denied a kiss.

She leans into the driver and starts talking. This time when she gives the address he knows where they are going, now she really is taking him home.

She still hasn't let his hand go as they climb into the cab again.

They pull out through the streets and she feels his eyes dart to her repeatedly, she dithers just a little bit before she gives him what he wants.

She leans back into him, facing him this time, her chin resting on his shoulder as he turns. Almost nose to nose they sit and stare at each other.

The driver makes another crack about young love, and they both smile, though she raises her eyebrows at him and he pouts.

A whole conversation in a matter of seconds and facial expressions that go completely over the head of the driver.

The smiles linger and the heated gaze intensifies.

They sit inhaling each other, and neither will pull back.

Then they are stopping and the driver is telling them the price of the fare and calling them kids.

Have a good night kids.

They break apart.

She exits again, this time a little giddy because she's here and she's taking that step.

Her foot catches on the door as she gets out but he has her back, literally. He yanks free of her grasp to catch her.

His hands palmed against her lower back, link her waist and set her steady on her feet, she looks over her shoulder at him because she could have very easily landed in his lap.

This time he raises an eyebrow and she laughs, ok dirty minded Kate was caught out. He smiles up at her, he likes this playful, teasing, naughty side of her.

She breaks from his expression, and the hold he has on her waist, grinning widely.

She turns to pay and realises she doesn't have any money, she doesn't have her bag, all she took was her denim zip jacket and car keys.

Turning back to him she feels the heat flooding her face again at her own stupidity. He catches the look.

An idea forms in her head and she moves almost against her will, her hand slips into his pocket, she feels him jump, she laughs again, her hands in intimate places as he watches her face, his eyes darkening.

She pulls his wallet free from his back pocket, patting him lightly on the backside as she does, grinning at him again.

She holds the wallet out, she invaded this far but, as much as she's changed, she isn't a completely different person.

She reclaims his hand.

He pays. Slipping the wallet back in his pocket. All actions one handed because once again she refuses to release his fingers.

She pulls him again now. Through the lobby, into another elevator and up.

Her fingers are drumming. Impatient, he recognises it now, she's anxious, she's in a hurry.

They reach her door and she pulls a key from her pocket pushing it into the lock, but before she opens it she turns to him.

It's the inevitability of it that swoops through her stomach, the rightness and the serene beauty of everything she feels in the moment.

She leans up onto her toes.

She releases his fingers, but only so she can hold his face, her fingertips dip into his hair, skirt his ears and his jaw.

She kisses him, lips light and tender over his, as her mouth gives up a promise.

She will always take him home.

It was inevitable.