Crossing the Lines by rebelcat
He began to watch his partner closely. And what he quickly discovered was that Doyle sketched more frequently than he’d realized. He sketched during meetings and breaks, on napkins and in the corners of books. His pictures were always tiny, sometimes barely more than few lines, and they always ended up in the bin.
Bodie began discreetly rescuing them, tossing them in his desk at the end of the day, with the sketch Doyle had made of his mug. There was a boot crossed over a knee, a bit of chair with the faintest hint of a person sitting in it, a shoulder holster pulled tight across a back... And lots of hands, all of which Bodie suspected belonged to him.