Alex POV
I drove us to the scene.
Because we're working, and when we're working, I drive.
Bobby only drives when we're dating.
That's a sentence I never imagined myself saying, but I like the sound of it.
And even though I'd teased him about me suddenly being a passenger, I actually like it.
When we're dating, I mean.
Because being a passenger gave me ample opportunity to look at him, to study his features.
And of course, to put my hand on his leg and feel the firm muscles of his thigh.
I pretended not to notice that he drove well over the speed limit all the way from Canarsie to his apartment, but I did notice, and the car's speed was in direct correlation with the location and pressure applied by my hand on his leg.
That was a definite confidence booster.
So earlier, while he drove, I relaxed in my seat and kept my hand firmly in place and then did my best to conduct a casual conversation. I wanted things to be easy between us, like they normally were, instead of awkward and clumsy due to my insecurities.
Because I actually panicked when he asked if I wanted to get dinner before going back to his place.
How stupid is that?
I mean, it was dinner time, and the man was probably hungry, and just because he suggested food didn't mean that he didn't ultimately want to sleep with me.
Couldn't we do both?
Once we moved past that, I shared a story from my youth, one meant to put him at ease about his own brush with the law. Attempting to steal a runway light wasn't my proudest moment, but it was just an example of how kids have a completely different view of life.
To me at the time, it was harmless fun.
To me now, it would be a reckless felony.
Anyway, as I wrapped up my story, we somehow started talking about my ideal man.
I could've used a lot less words and just said Bobby, but I'm not that brave.
Instead, I described him as though I was talking about a fictional character.
Smart, funny, understanding…
"That's it?" he'd asked.
"That's not enough?"
And that's when I was reminded about his insecurities. I'd gotten so caught up in my own that I forgot about how he must be feeling through all of this.
But I couldn't exactly just come out and say it, could I?
No, but I came close.
About as close as he came to telling me that he loves me.
And see, I know he loves me.
That's not really in question.
We've been partners for far too long, and we've been through entirely too much together for us not to love each other.
But loving me and being in love with me are two different things.
We arrived at the crime scene and I double parked in front of the yellow tape.
"Your victim took two in the back," Dr. Rodgers was saying to Hannah as we approached the body.
I wasn't sure why our captain deemed it necessary to come to the scene, but I wasn't going to complain about more help.
Maybe Bobby and I could put this case in the books and get back to his place.
Just the thought of spending more quality alone-time with him sent a warm feeling rolling through me and I had to force those thoughts from my mind.
I couldn't think about the way his hands had felt against my bare skin, or how his lips had burned a path down my throat…
"Goren," Hannah greeted as he stood up and turned around, and then he stumbled as he took in the sight of me. "Um…Detective…Eames."
He blatantly looked me up and down, although not with any kind of interest, but more like a kid might look at a parent when he's told for the first time that there used to only be three channels on the TV and none of them were Nickelodeon.
Amazement.
Suspicion.
Disbelief.
I didn't have to guess whether or not he's ever noticed I'm a woman.
Big fat no.
"I guess I interrupted a date," he concluded at last, still furrowing his brow and making a third pass over me with his eyes.
Because yeah, I was still in my dress.
If we'd left right after Hannah called, I probably would've had time to swing by my place and change clothes, but we didn't leave right away.
After agreeing that we'd go back to Bobby's after our work was done tonight, we'd headed for the door.
But I was literally vibrating with want for him. I'd swear I could almost feel what it was going to be like to be with him and it was making me restless and dizzy.
I mean, we'd been minutes away from getting naked.
He had his hand on my bare ass, for the love of God.
It wasn't fair that we had to stop.
Not after all we've been through.
And while the forced intermission was making me bolder out of sexual frustration, it seemed to make him more resigned to the idea that it might never happen.
That maybe we were having to try too hard to make it work.
I could practically see him closing in on himself.
"I am coming back," I promised, reaching out to touch him on the arm as he clipped on his badge and gun. "This is just a temporary delay."
"I know," he agreed. "It's just…it almost seems like…"
"Like the fates are conspiring against us?" I supplied. He shrugged, but didn't answer, so I added, "It's not fate. If I hadn't been so…apprehensive when we first got here, we would've already been done by the time Hannah called. And then we would've considered it good timing, because the call would've come in afterwards."
He seemed to like my take on it, and after a moment's deliberation he said, "So it's basically your fault."
And then he flashed me a smile and pulled me into a hug and added, "Except your theory doesn't hold water."
"Why's that?" I asked as I reached under his shirt again, loving the feel of his hot skin beneath my hands.
"Even if we'd started right away, I still wouldn't be done with you."
The visual brought about by his statement served to amp up both my arousal and my anxiety, and then he nearly pushed me over the edge when he brought his mouth to mine for a crushing kiss.
And then another.
And another.
By the time we left his apartment, both of us flushed and breathless, we agreed that I'd have to nix the idea of going home before heading to the scene. My badge and gun were in the glove box, so it wasn't like it was a necessity.
And I've been to murder scenes in non-work clothes before.
Sometimes it just worked out that way, and our extended make-out session was well worth me having to stay in the dress.
But of all times for Hannah to show up…
Of course, it wasn't like he'd know I'd been on a date with Bobby.
"It happens," I said dismissively in response to his astute observation.
"Yeah, well, hopefully we can work this scene and get you back in the saddle in no time," he said, finally tearing his eyes away from me as he turned back towards the body.
I nearly choked in an effort not to laugh at his choice of wording and I purposely avoided looking at Bobby as I stepped closer to our victim.
"So…two to the back?" I asked, encouraging the recap.
"Who's the vic?" Bobby asked.
"You mean why the hell is the Major Case captain working a murder on a Sunday night?" Hannah replied.
Bobby shrugged and nodded as he knelt down next to Rodgers.
I watched Hannah for a moment as he sighed before continuing.
"On-the-job evaluation," he stated at last.
Bobby looked up quickly and then bounced his gaze from Hannah to me and then back to the captain again.
"Of me?" he questioned.
"Moran's orders. Gyson cleared you, but he wants one final assessment of how you handle yourself with the LEO's and the techs…the ME's…"
"I think he's great," Rodgers piped in.
"Duly noted," Hannah said as I smirked at her appreciatively.
But Bobby looked stressed.
"Is this ever going to be over? Or are you going to be babysitting me for the rest of my career?"
"One case," Hannah said firmly. "Me, you, and Eames. We're in, we're out, and then you're off your leash and it's back to just you and Eames, doing what you do best."
Again, I found myself holding back an inappropriate laugh. Every word out of the man's mouth seemed to take on new meaning, considering my pre-crime scene activities.
But despite my internal amusement, I knew Bobby wasn't crazy about this latest development, so I caught his eye and gave him a barely perceptible nod.
This wasn't going to be a big deal. It wasn't fair that Moran felt the need for this final test, but we'd get through it just fine. Bobby was in the home stretch with this, and then, like Hannah said, it'd just be me and him, like old times.
Only better.
"Okay," he agreed, still holding my gaze. "Then let's do this."
We spent two hours at the scene - scoping for evidence, trolling for witnesses, and role-playing possible scenarios.
Then we spent two more hours at 1PP - weeding through reports as they came in, pulling up the financial history of our victim, and tracking his final hours.
Oh, and eating Chinese food.
Hannah had it delivered into the conference room where the three of us were working.
One less thing for us to worry about later.
"I guess your date probably gave up on you, huh, Eames?" the captain asked me as he simultaneously shoveled in fried rice and read the preliminary coroner's report.
"I don't know," I answered vaguely, casting a sideways glance at Bobby.
Never, he mouthed.
I dropped my head and smiled as I pulled out yet another report.
"Well, if you're dating a guy who can't handle the job, then it's better to find out sooner rather than later," Hannah continued, oblivious to the fact that I was losing my focus on the case since those damn butterflies were once again fluttering around inside of me.
That one little word from him, combined with a pointed look…I was starting to wonder how long we were going to be stuck here, because it's not like we were going to solve this thing tonight.
"That's true," I agreed.
"Okay, so what have we got?" he said, mercifully getting back to the case. "Ballistics?"
"We'll have the report in the morning," Bobby answered.
"Tox screen?"
"Same," I said.
"What about the victim's wife?"
"She's on a plane as we speak. She was apparently at the summer home in Florence."
"So…morning," he said with an understanding nod. "Then what the hell are we still doing here? Go home, Bobby. Eames, go back to your date. We'll all start fresh tomorrow."
I can't remember the last time I left the squad room so fast.
Okay, maybe I can.
Maybe it was last Thursday night when I was heading out for my first date with Bobby.
Although I think tonight I was moving even faster.
Because we had unfinished business.
After too much time wasted on my relentless mental tug-of-war, I was ready to see my insecurity for what it was.
Prior men were underwhelmed?
Well, so was I.
I couldn't think of a single one who'd made the earth move for me, so why was I shouldering the weight of failure?
Maybe I just hadn't been with the right guy yet.
I mean, obviously Joe was the right guy for a brief period of time. And yes, our sex life was okay. Nothing to brag about, but okay.
But near the end, when things were deteriorating between us, he'd used that as ammunition. I guess once he realized it worked, casting aspersions on my femininity and sexuality, then it was something he repeated.
Continually.
Until he had me believing that his words were true.
"We need to hurry," Bobby said as he climbed in the SUV, nearly giving me a heart attack. I'd gone down first, so that Hannah wouldn't see us leave together, and so I'd been waiting in the car. "I accidentally closed the elevator doors on him, so he'll be on the next one down."
I started up the car and hightailed it out of the parking garage. We didn't talk until we were a few miles away from 1PP, and Bobby leaned back against the seat and let out a frustrated breath.
"Can you believe he's evaluating me? I mean, come on, Alex. How many cases have we worked together just since we've been back? And there haven't been any complaints against me."
"He's just doing his job. Moran's pulling the strings, you know that."
"Yeah, I know. It's just…I just want to…" he paused and looked over at me. "I just want to forget all about work for tonight."
"Are you sure? Because I can just go home and watch Harrison Ford," I teased, enjoying the fact that he was clearly putting me above everything else.
"I don't think so," he said, reaching out to put his hand on my knee.
"Wait a minute, are we on a date right now? Because if we are, you're supposed to be driving."
"I think I'd like to try out being the passenger," he countered as his fingers played with the hem of my dress.
"Uh uh," I argued lightly. "That wasn't the deal. You know, chivalry and all."
But then he moved the edge of my dress out of the way as his hand slowly climbed higher up my leg.
"Did you see the look Hannah gave you at the crime scene?" he asked.
I glanced at him, but his gaze was concentrated on the skin he was exposing as he continued to move my dress incrementally upwards. I stepped down on the gas pedal, and nearly laughed out loud thinking about how at the rate we were going, one or both of us was going to end up with a speeding ticket.
"You mean the one that said when did you turn into a girl?"
"I don't think that's what it said," he replied. "You honestly don't see how beautiful you are, do you?"
"I'm sure that's not what he was thinking," I said, avoiding the question.
He leaned over and pressed his lips against my cheek and then said, "I don't care what he was thinking. But I'll tell you what I'm thinking."
"What?" I asked carefully as excitement and anticipation rushed through me.
God, where is his apartment, and why is it taking us so long to get there?
"I'm thinking that we won't have any more interruptions tonight. And we can go back to my place and finish what we started. Option B, right?"
"Oh, is that what Option B was?" I asked teasingly as his close proximity and his gravely tone of voice combined to do a number on my system. "I don't know…I'm not sure you properly laid out the parameters."
I was ready to park the car in the nearest available space and just have at it.
Fortunately for me, I'd just turned onto his street and I saw an open spot only a block away from his building.
Because if his hand went any higher, I wasn't going to be responsible for my actions.
Why was I ever worried about this?
He and I did everything well together.
This wouldn't be any different.
"You know, when Hannah called tonight…I just knew we'd get caught up in the case and then days would pass…" he said, trailing off as he moved his hand away from me so that he could unbuckle his seatbelt.
"You didn't believe I'd come back?" I asked him as I cut off the engine.
"I just expected that circumstances would intervene."
"You're expecting this not to work. Because everything in your life, other than the job, doesn't usually work."
He narrowed his eyes at me in feigned suspicion.
"Have you been talking to Dr. Gyson?"
"No," I said on a laugh. "Why, is that what she tells you?"
He nodded and looked down at his lap for a minute.
"You know, I'm not going to be able to keep you from her for much longer. I mean, I think she knows already. I think she knew before I did. She's not pushing for me to say it out loud yet, but eventually..."
"Do you trust her?"
"Yes."
"Then do your therapy. Be honest. She won't be able to help you if you don't tell her the truth."
"So you're okay with us…talking about you?"
"I want you to talk about whatever's on your mind. If it's me, then talk about me."
"I think it's a pretty safe bet that it'll be you," he said, smiling that mischievous smile of his.
I reached for my door handle and said, "Well, let's go then. Let's give you something to talk about at your next session."
I climbed out of the car before he could respond, but he got out quickly and met me at the front of the SUV.
"I'm not going to talk about my sex life," he said as he took my hand in his.
"I'm sorry, do you have a sex life?" I asked coyly.
He tugged my hand as he hustled into his building, moving swiftly through the lobby and over to the elevator.
"No, but if you hurry up maybe I will."
The End