Inform me of any mistakes. So this is the first 'Endeavour' fanfic?- and with a Endeavour and Joan shipping?

Steam pressed trousers drew Fred Thursday's attention away from the usual centrepiece of the lounge. The television which held prominence in the dimly lit room was no match for the lanky detective constable lounging on the sofa. The DI's coat accompanied him on the sofa, he draped it over the younger gent to hopefully remove the chill brought on by blood loss. The boy needed to learn how to take care of himself, basic life skills on top of learning how to be a good detective. But for now Inspector Thursday took it upon himself to nurture the fool…

The sleepy detective smacked his lips from above the collar of the coat, and frowned. Jesus, the boy was still trying to crack a case even comatose. It was Thursdays' turn to frown. What was he kidding? - The young detective wasn't a fool, he was brilliant, a brilliant mind never really switches off. He hoped he would remain that way, along with his innocence, perhaps even become faster at solving the latest escapades. Faster than he already was? - Now that's pretty damn fast. Crime prevention would be the next step.

The boy- ha…the boy? Endeavour's attention to detail was commendable, he deserved awards for things that he himself hadn't even accomplished yet in his long career on the force. The DI was proud to say, he was the one who had given him the chance, to extend a hand to the policeman who whittled away his free time at his desk staring at pictures and hieroglyphics, when his colleagues had long gone to the pub.

His wife called from the kitchen- "He isn't one of those new fangled vegetarians is he?"

"Not to my knowledge." He responded, carrying his loud voice out of the room. "Though he looks it."

"Suppose he doesn't like my cooking?"

He began to sip at the beverage he had poured for his colleague. "Nonsense, everybody loves your cooking." He consciously settled the glass back down on the table- before his wife could catch him stealing.

Fred's eyes fell upon the fair face of the slumbering man as he straightened. Fair indeed; light brown eyelashes on pale cheeks, delicate cheekbones, and his permanently perplexed mouth- he could imagine this would appeal to the fairer sex, because even a man of his stature would look twice. He hadn't failed to notice the many pairs of eyes that trail on them walking down the street. DC Ian McLeash's pair of eyes are frequently in Morse's shadow, leering with distaste…or was it disgruntled admiration? It couldn't be anything else- anything legal that is.

Silence consumed the living room, that and the ticking clock on the mantel. There wasn't any reason to be here watching over his apprentice, it seemed to slip his mind that he could leave and dress for dinner, or read the paper. His fingers rapped on his trousers idly, eating up into his family time staring affectionately at the new addition in his home. Okay- this is a trifle odd now. He felt he was on the verge of bizarre perversion, he hadn't even stared at a woman this long - except his wife. Staring at a decent looking male colleague with such interest was beyond not normal. He stood abruptly to take his leave, and nearly walked smack bang into his wife holding his hot cup of tea. "Owh."

"Nearly." She smiled, the fright still in her eyes. The cup changed hands and she dithered in the doorway as if coming to conclusion her husband had spent the past 5 minutes hovering over their guest – after tucking him in. She detected paternal energies in the room, which was understandable; the man was young, and shy by what she gathered in their last meeting, and she expressed this opinion earlier in the kitchen. But by what her husband had told her, he was an impressionable man that was smart and bold. Such conflicting attributes; a bold and shy policeman? Perhaps she should use the word gentle instead?

Mr Thursday watched her over his mug- wondering what had her in a daze. "Something up?"

"He's very pale."

He nodded. "Anaemic, god knows what sort of lifestyle he lives outside of work." He passed her in the doorway to return his cup to the sink. "You know…he had never had a tipple in his life."

She huffed. "What- until he met you?" She knew her husband all too well, probably stopped off at a few pubs in between cases. "Please don't try to fit him into your mould."

"-Wouldn't hurt though…?"

"Promise me."

The inspector felt his knees quiver at the sound of his missus' voice, and the rewards given. "He'll be fine with me." His wife relaxed and jolted forward in merriment to smother him with kisses, he managed to control her and himself with a firm squeeze of her forearms. "I think I understand now what Morse needs." She retracted back to listen intently. "A good woman to take care of him."

She nudged him away affectionately. "Oh I see, you're not looking for a lodger are you?- Trying to give me another son to mother. He don't need nursing, you know?" She swaggered over to the sink to clean the dirties. Mrs Thursday sensed her husband eyeing her from the doorway. "I suppose this woman will cook and clean in his accommodation, and darn his socks while he's at work?" She felt his arms hug her waist, she straightened, her hair moving into the path of his warm breath. "Look at yourself, going all gooey just so you can get your way."

He rumbled in humour behind her. "I wouldn't get you to put more work upon yourself."

Then why was he trying? She smirked. "Then what?"

"Inquire at the women's institute." He said that like he meant it, as if it was as easy as baking a cake. The stiffness in her posture must have been felt, for he retracted from her steadily as if she were a spooked horse. "Sweetheart."

She turned on him shrewdly. "You expect me to advertise for a maid for your colleague." The bold inspector seemed to shrivel up before her. "Don't get me wrong, he is a very nice young man- but don't degrade the boy by putting him through that, and don't put me on the spot like that."

His hands were up to defend himself. "He's young and doesn't seem to have any life outside of work, perhaps he doesn't have a nice environment to go home to."

Damn, he had her. Mrs Thursday winced. "He is a nice young man…"

"-Yes, you know it makes sense."

"Maybe we could devise a routine?"

"-What a jolly good idea." He needed to put all the credit on her, he needed her on his side- she was a mother after all. "He could have dinner over here twice a week." He maintained his head of the house voice even though really in this day and age- it was his wife who was the commander and chief of the ship.

She nodded assertively, coming around to the idea.

Mr Thursday beamed. "Perhaps wash his clothes?" It left his mouth too soon.

His wife looked a little less pleased. "The boy does look clean enough for him to have done his own. He has clean finger nails after all."

Her husband shrugged, it hadn't occurred to him he was a modern man who did everything for himself. "He still could do with a housekeeper, or landlady."

"What about his own mother?" Soon as this left her mouth, she was blighted by thoughts of him being an orphan, till her husband could reassure her…

"He doesn't speak of his parents often, so I assume a broken home."

Mrs Thursday placed a hand to her heart. "Bless him." Silence deafened the room, through thoughtfulness and respect to those being spoken about. "Perhaps a maid wouldn't be out of the question?- You should talk to him really, discreetly."

"I don't think he will approve." He shot it down immediately.

"But he will listen to you?"

"Yes, but- he wouldn't feel like he accomplished anything if he knows I'm doing it for him- out of pity."

"Well if he is as gentle as you say he is- he wouldn't have that much pride." He couldn't believe she had said that. She noticed and corrected herself. "I mean he respects you enough to listen, he won't get defensive about the idea, will he?"

The inspector's stare was very informative. He might, he might not- he didn't know Morse that well, did he? "Let's just leave the boy alone, shall we?" She returned to washing her dishes. "You'd have thought we had just adopted him."

The inspector disappeared from the room, to quickly observe the person in question- still blissfully unaware of what was unfolding in the kitchen. He re-entered the kitchen quickly enough to startle his missus. "A maid would cost money." A dish plopped heavily back in the water. "A volunteer on the other hand…"

Mrs Thursday hovered over her plates in thought, suds floating before her. "A volunteer…"

The front door opened and slammed shut, removing the stillness from the house. For a split second the inspector believed it was Morse leaving after hearing the commotion- but the boy was too polite to dare leave without excusing himself properly. All was revealed when Joan Thursday emerged from the hall, removing her heels. "An appalling day, lost a pence on the bus and snagged my skirt on the dodgy seating- oh well nothing a needle and thread can't fix." She set her aching feet on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor sighing in relief. She rolled her head up to greet her family and blinked when she noticed her mother and father staring at her in a very peculiar way. "What?"