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The froth had stopped being funny and had started taunting him. There was just something about that smear of white on Hathaway's face that was... distracting. And a unnecessary reminder that it had just been too damn long. He just wants to drink his coffee and discuss astrophysics, or not discuss astrophysics because - really? He is a policemen not a academic and if even Hathaway isn't interested then there isn't much hope for the rest of them. But he can't do that because the foam is just sitting there like the cream on a sundae and he wants to reach over and wipe it off, suck it from his fingers and... and if he thinks about it much more then he is going to be walking funny when he stands up.
It was different when he was married. Wouldn't have cheated so didn't look. But he is on his own now, except for James who's... who's piss and vinegar but a stream of gold in the night for all that. And he never had got an answer from the facetious sod as to whether he punted from the Oxford or Cambridge end. It was no good Lewis thought, he wasn't going to last the afternoon at that rate.
"Back in a moment," he muttered. The cafe had to have a bathroom somewhere and all he needed was five minutes to himself. Not too much to ask surely.
The cafe wasn't big enough to have much more than two cubicles - one male, one female. Lewis let himself in lent against the door with something close to a sigh of relief. He really was too old for this ridiculousness. He supposed it was what they called a mid-life crisis and he'd seen enough cases to know where that led and he had better things to do with his time. He still flicked the lock on the door to closed and pushed down his fly. He was half-hard, had been since Hathaway had wiped the creamy residue from his lip. The memory got him the rest of the way and he stroked himself quickly. Close, so close...
"Sir?"
His cock jumped at the familiar voice and he swore mentally.
"This had better be an emergency," he growled - loud enough to be heard but hopefully not so loud as to have the whole cafe wondering what the hell was going on.
"Difficult to say, Sir," was the unhelpful reply.
Hard, frustrated and knowing there was no help for it Lewis shoved himself back in his trousers and did them up.
"Go on then," he demanded, opening the door.
He was expecting Hathaway to hand him a phone - probably with an irate Superintendent on the other end. Or Hooper with another body. At least it would have alleviated his condition. He was therefore surprised enough to just back up when Hathaway stepped forward and suddenly they were both in the cramped cafe gents with the door shut behind them.
There was, he presumed, a good explanation. But for the life of him he couldn't think what it could be.
"What do you call this?" Lewis demanded.
Hathaway contemplated that for a moment. "I'd have to say indecent exposure." Without meaning to Lewis looked down, his fly thankfully was done up even if the incriminating bulge was distressingly visible to his eye. Ignoring him Hathaway continued, "specifically 'engaging in sexual activity in a public lavatory' as prohibited in the Sexual Offences Act 2003."
It would almost be funny if it wasn't him. "You are a smug bastard, aren't you?"
Hathaway did not deny the charge. "Although you might want to add assaulting a senior officer and sexual harassment if I am wrong."
Lewis gave a huff of laughter. "Are you ever wrong?"
Hathaway's smile was tight but his hands were on Lewis' belt as he said "All too often." Then he was on his knees and in no position to say anything at all.