Title: Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes

Author: TartanLioness

A/N: The title is taken from the poem by Ben Jonson, and while it is often associated with the Temperance Movement and the belief that men should be able to love and raise families without alcohol, the original poem is actually quite romantic. More about the poet's soul being more satisfied by a look or a kiss from his beloved (or her presence), than his thirst would be quenched by the most divine drink known to man. As always, many thanks to my wonderful beta dancesabove for her work beyond the call of duty.

Part of the poem:

Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss within the cup,

And I'll not ask for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup

I would not change for thine.

…

As Sam walked home through the darkened streets of Hastings, she pondered men. Not in any lascivious way; in fact, she was feeling rather maudlin as she contemplated her bad luck with men lately. Of course by 'men', she meant two in particular: Andrew, who had informed her by way of letter that he had met someone else, and Joe, with whom she had spent the evening.

If she were completely honest with herself, she would admit that the end of her decidedly chaste and unexciting relationship with Andrew had not saddened her as much as she thought it ought to have done. The few, brief kisses they had shared had not inspired any great longing in her, and the lack of time spent together had meant that her feelings for the young RAF pilot were rather lukewarm.

And Joe? Well, Joe had been a mistake from the beginning. She'd had an idea in her head about Hollywood and Clark Gable, and Joe had been so insistent… it wasn't that she didn't like Joe, just as she didn't dislike Andrew. It was just that they were so spectacularly mismatched; she wondered how she'd ever thought they might fit. Joe was everything she had always imagined a stereotypical American would be: brash, bold, handsome, and cheeky bordering on insolent. She was sure she might enjoy his company if it were for a few hours and only occasionally. But she couldn't imagine stepping out with him. He was too…

Immature, she thought with a sigh. Of course, it didn't help that dancing with Joe at the American ball the other night had meant that her boss had apparently thought that she was deceiving his son, which had led to an awkward (though mercifully brief) conversation by the Wolseley during which she explained the way Andrew had broken up with her. Foyle had looked at her sympathetically, though, and thanked her for telling him.

Of course, she remembered with a small smile, earlier tonight he had also apologised for the conclusions he had drawn about her, looking so utterly uncomfortable but also so sincerely remorseful that she'd had no difficulty in forgiving him.

Sam passed the dark form of St. Clement's Church and continued up Steep Lane; it just so happened that the most direct route from The Royal Oak to her digs went past Mr Foyle's house. It had nothing to do with her strange desire to be near him, even if he wouldn't know she was there and even if she would never presume to linger outside his home unless she had official business there. Absolutely nothing.

She was almost at Foyle's house when she saw a Jeep pull up next to it, and she barely had time to wonder what business an American vehicle had at Foyle's doorstep in the middle of the night before the passenger-side door opened and her boss stepped out of the car.

…

Foyle had been decidedly grateful when Captain Kieffer offered him a lift back. Of course neither man was in any condition to drive, but Kieffer had quickly summoned a young private and asked him to drive the Detective Chief Superintendent home.

The private, who remembered Foyle from the talk he had given, immediately brought a Jeep around, and Foyle settled into the passenger seat. At first he thought little of it, but as the car began to move he felt more and more uncomfortable, sitting as he was in the wrong side of the car. It was a curious feeling; it was as if he ought to be driving the car, only he wasn't. Well, it was all right, he supposed. At least somehow they managed to follow the road. The fact that the headlights were shuttered and Jeeps weren't what you'd call smooth rides at the best of times didn't exactly assuage his nausea.

He closed his eyes and fleetingly wondered how long it had been since he had overdone his whiskey quite so spectacularly. A long time, certainly.

It had been a good evening though; he'd enjoyed Captain Kieffer's company immensely and somehow they'd managed to drink nearly all the bottle of Jack Daniel's while sharing fishing stories and cataloguing the similarities and differences between their countries. Foyle was certain that, being somewhat smaller in stature than Kieffer, he had been far more affected by the alcohol than the American had.

The vehicle swerved and came to an abrupt halt, and Foyle briefly considered telling Sam off; then he realised that his driver was a burly-looking boy from Birmingham, Alabama and not rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed Samantha Stewart. He sighed, opening his eyes at last. The Jeep was haphazardly parked on the wrong side of the road, near his front step. With another sigh, Foyle thanked the young private and opened the door, stepping precariously onto the pavement.

Just as he walked up the steps to his front door, he heard her voice. For a moment he worried that he had drunk enough to be hallucinating, but then Sam stepped up to him and he decided that even after two years of working with her he couldn't hallucinate her in quite that much detail. Surely he wouldn't be able to so perfectly imagine the way she smelled and the way the small hairs at the nape of her neck caught what little light there was, nor the look of concern in her warm brown eyes and the feeling of her hand on his arm as she steadied him.

"Sir? Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, yes, absolutely," he replied, trying and failing to unlock his front door. Gently, Sam took the key from him and within seconds he was being ushered inside his dark hallway, the door closing softly behind them.

TBC