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Author: Nightlight

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King is the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement of rights is intended. Dialogue used from the episode 'Ship of Spies' belongs to the writers, not to me.

Summary: Lee and Amanda each reflect on the marriage and subsequent kiss in San Angelo.

Timeline: Filler that takes place shortly after the tag or Ship of Spies.

Author's notes: All feedback is welcome. This story was written due to a challenge to use 'Black Socks and Bermuda Shorts' as a title and to include three items or phrases from a particular list. Thanks go to Racoon and Trampled Tulip for taking the time to beta for me.

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The late afternoon sunshine peeked through the drawn curtains of the quiet Georgetown apartment. A jingle of keys could be heard from the other side of the door as Lee Stetson returned from his debriefing following his latest case.

As he opened the door, and then closed it behind him, he dropped the mail on the table and surveyed the dim apartment. Deciding to open the shades, he swiftly crossed the room to the windows on the opposite wall.

He had hoped the sun would help lighten his mood, but even as the soft light of the setting sun washed across the room, the uneasy feeling he'd had before stayed with him.

As he turned from the window in disappointment, he saw the blinking red light of the answering machine in the corner of his eye, and he fixed his attention on the awaiting messages.

The fifth and final message sparked his interest considerably; the soft voice seemed to float out to him --

"Lee . . . it's Carrie. Listen, I'm in town for the week. I'd love to get together. Call me."

Carrie . . . he let his mind wander until he recalled one particular night he'd spent with Carrie in New York.

His dimples deepening, he grinned and decided if anything could improve his mood, it was an evening with Carrie. He called her back quickly and they made plans for dinner; she said she would come over around seven.

Placing the receiver snuggly back in its cradle, he went over a mental list of things he needed to do before she came over.

As he entered his bedroom, he realized that he still had not unpacked. That was definitely at the top of said list. He should've done it earlier, but he hadn't and he couldn't very well have suitcases lying about when Carrie came over.

Lee set his suitcase up on the bed and began the chore of unpacking, first gathering the clothes he would need to have washed. He matched a pair of black socks - socks he had worn at his wedding . . .*his* *wedding*. He never thought he would hear those words; what a strange trip that had been, but it was just a case, an assignment that was over now.

Lee had learned in the past to leave his work at the office, or in the field as it may be. It was the only way he knew to survive this job. So, taking his own advice, he tried to focus on his date that night.

He pictured her in his mind -- her long brown hair, what she might be wearing, but he still couldn't shake that feeling, the uneasy feeling he'd had earlier -- the one he'd had since he left the agency.

Shaking his head, he decided not to think about anything and finish packing. He picked up a pair of Bermuda shorts he'd brought for the cruise, in case he'd had some leisure time, and a tube of lip gloss fell out onto the bed.

He stared at it quizzically for a moment. When he picked it up, he froze. Amanda...it had to be Amanda's, and suddenly San Angelo, the wedding, the kiss, it all came rushing to the forefront of his consciousness and that uneasy feeling grew into something much worse. His breath became shallow and his heart sped up in his chest. Their kiss played like a video in his head, over and over again. From the second their eyes met to the first tentative touch of their lips, the endless moment that followed and after, when he had been unwilling to break their connection.

The feelings that had surged forth when he kissed her, in such an intimate moment, were much more than he had ever expected, much more than he could deal with. He was terrified Amanda had noticed his uncertainty, but even worse, that she had interpreted it as his having feelings for her. Amanda just wasn't his type, and he wasn't hers.

Had he made that clear to her at The Agency, really, made it crystal clear? Was he certain she understood, that she knew what he had meant? He replayed the words he'd said to her in the hallway because he had to be sure there was nothing between them . . .

~~*******************

"Whatever happened was . . .well, it was all part of the job."

"I know. It was all part of the job."

"Yeah . . .and we were just, you know, playing our covers -"

"No, we were playing our covers."

"Right. And nothing more to it."

"Nothing more to it."

*******************~~~

Those words, exchanged deep within the confines of The Agency, kept running through Amanda's head. Each time he told her they weren't involved, that whatever happened was just part of the case, part of their cover, she immediately had to wonder who he was trying to convince more, her or himself. Though it really didn't matter. She knew even if they did have some feelings for each other, they could never be together. She knew it wouldn't work.

Amanda pushed those thoughts of Lee from her head as she entered her house. She had a family to take care of, she could hardly be worrying about the feelings of a certain agent.

Upon opening her front door, though, she was greeted with the warm smell of dinner on the stove and she welcomed the comfort of normalcy. "Mother, I'm home," she called out from the hallway.

"I'm in the kitchen, Amanda," she answered.

"Mmm, Mother, that smells wonderful, what are you making?" Amanda asked as she came up next to her mother in the kitchen.

"Homemade Beef Stroganoff, and you can tell me all about your trip over dinner." Dotty's underlying meaning was unmistakable.

"Mo - ther," Amanda groaned. Dotty just laughed. Amanda shook her head, "Where are the boys?" she asked, effectively changing the subject.

"They just got home from school and they ran right up the stairs. You know, they've been awfully quiet up there."

Amanda nodded her head, "I'll go check on them. Fellas!" she yelled as she ran up the stairs. At first, there was no answer, but when she called again, she heard the muffled response from the bathroom.

"Fellas," she knocked on the door, "what are you doing in there?"

"Uh, nothing, Mom."

"Yeah, nothing, Mom."

"Nothing," she mumbled to herself. That most definitely meant something, most likely something bad.

"Let me in, boys," she knocked on the bathroom door again.

The door opened a crack and Jamie peeked out. "Hi, Mom . . . how was your trip?"

"My trip was just fine, Sweetheart. What are you guys doing in there?" Amanda pushed a little on the door, indicating she was going to come in, and Jamie reluctantly took a step back so she could enter.

When she saw Phillip, or rather, Phillip's hair, she gasped. Half of the sandy blonde hair on his head was tinged with green. "Phillip! What are you doing?!?" she exclaimed.

"I'm dying my hair green, Mom," he stated the obvious, trying to stand his ground, though he knew he wouldn't get away with it.

Jamie had a bottle of green dye in his hand and she took it from him. "Where did you get this?" she looked at the bottle then pinned her oldest son with a no-nonsense look.

"I got it from Jordan, it was his older brother's. He said we could use it."

"Why, in heaven's name, would you want to do something like dye your hair green?"

"Britney said she thought it would look rad, so a bunch of us are gonna do it."

"You are absolutely *not* dying your hair green. You get in the bath and wash that out immediately," she commanded.

"Ahhh, but Mo -om, I have to. Everyone else is doing it," Phillip whined.

"'Everyone else' doesn't live in my house. Now, Jamie, go do your homework and you," Amanda pointed her gaze at Phillip, "wash that dye out right now, young man. I don't want to hear anymore about it."

"Yes, Mom," Philip and Jamie chorused, their heads hung in disappointment.

Amanda sighed, taking the green dye and hiding it somewhere safe until she could decide what needed to be done with it. She only hoped all the dye would come out of his hair tonight.

As she came out of her room, she ran into her mother in the hallway.

"What were the boys doing?" she asked. At Amanda's exasperated look, she laughed. "Nevermind, I don't think I want to know."

Amanda looked down at the floor, her shoulder's sagged, she was just completely exhausted.

"Darling, you seem a little frazzled."

"Oh, I guess I am a little tired, with work and the trip and all . . ."

"Dinner's not for a half an hour, why don't you go lay down and rest until then, okay?"

"Oh, thanks. That would be great. I'll just go lay down for a bit."

"Good idea," Dotty patted Amanda's shoulder. It was obvious how worn out she was.

Amanda went in to her room, closing the door behind her and laid down on the bed. She shut her eyes and tried to relax, but before long her mind naturally drifted to her wedding.

Her and Lee's wedding.

Wedding . . .

Though she knew it was just a case and that she should forget about it, she could hardly believe things had happened the way they did. The last thing she needed was another failed marriage on her record; except it wasn't really a real marriage, becuase her and Lee weren't really getting married; they were just pretending, because of the case . . . because they were trying to stop the bad guys. The only problem was, that was a real minister, and a real wedding dress, and real wedding rings, and real vows . . .

But it wasn't real, thank goodness. Or, at least, it wasn't valid. Lee had spelled his name wrong and put down a wrong address and a wrong birthdate. Amanda paused for a moment, thinking, 'Did he really need to do all that? Was the idea of being married to her that repulsive?' Certainly, the idea didn't repulse her.

She could almost picture them together if things were only a little different . . .

Sighing a deep sigh, she rolled over and tried to keep herself from imagining what it would be like to *really* marry Lee Stetson, to love him, have him love her.

Afterall, it would never work; they were too different. It would be like . . . like . . . well, like two things that would just never ever go together.

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