Complete/1 shot/set in later seasons (7/8)

It was getting late. Most of the Major Case employees had gone home, but Detectives Goren and Eames were at their desks as usual. They were tying up loose ends and nutting out the boring bits in order to wrap up their latest case - at least Alex was. Bobby didn't seem to be working at all. He was pretending to fill in forms from time to time, but his main objective seemed to be his sudden need to assess his partner with a critical eye.

It was bad-mannered and unnerving. The case had been tough; it was late. But they'd had many late nights and myriad tough cases. She knew something was up with him. Something must have disturbed him in his pysch session. Fortunately, he made up for his impolite staring by bringing her a large mug of steaming black coffee -strong and sweet - and a packet of skittles. She knew that the vending machine was all out, so he must have prowled around on other floors hunting for her favorite candy. It wasn't the first time he'd done it. It was usually when he was worried about her, or wanted to apologize. The skittles were an ice-breaker.

"How'd it go with Olivet this morning?" She asked, shattering the ice a little too brutally. Seeing Elizabeth Olivet was something they had in common, as Alex saw her for months after her abduction. Bobby would allow her to mention it on occasion for that one reason only.

"OK, I guess."

"She's a good shrink – smart."

He nodded shyly in acknowledgment and left a drawn-out pause. "Yeah. But she says some strange stuff sometimes, don't you think?"

"Strange like what?" asked Alex, not hiding her curiosity.

He chuckled nervously and scratched at his scalp. He looked down at his own coffee mug and stumbled over his words. "She said I uh…should find healthier outlets for stress - to relieve stress."

Eames nodded."You mean instead of scotch and self-hatred, you could work out or get a massage." She sounded unkind, but it was just Eames being Eames. She showed that she cared by sounding uncaring.

He gave a half smile at her insight. ."Well you could say that – yeah - I mean maybe not that exactly, but she suggested something like that."

"Something like what, a massage?" Alex was intrigued, and quickly pushed aside a mental flash of his oiled bare back on a massage table with a white towel draped just below his hips.

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate.

Her ire was raised. It was either way too much trivial information with him or a complete vacuum. His refusal to be forthcoming frustrated the hell out of her, and always had. She looked around the bullpen for a heavy object to throw at his head. Unconsciousness would certainly relieve his anxiety. Not spying anything of the right dimensions or weight for a projectile (besides her half-full and delicious mug of coffee), she decided to continue with her line of questioning instead. "So what did she suggest then? Casual exercise? A walk in the park?" Her exasperation was evident.

He must have sensed the potential threat her tone represented, because he decided to get specific. "Well not exactly a walk in the park. Um more like uh.. a roll in the hay." He directed his eyes at her now, rather than at his coffee mug - he wanted to see her reaction.

Alex put down her mug in haste. "Olivet propositioned you?" She raised her eyebrows in disbelief – her eyes as big as saucers.

Bobby stumbled. "What? No? Wait..at least I don't think so. No! She definitely didn't." Bobby was only flustered because a drunken Logan had recently hinted at having had some sort of relationship with Olivet, even though he was her patient at the time. Bobby hadn't pressed him for details of the long-ago liaison, but he often wondered just how far the doctor/patient boundaries had been stretched between the two of them. Nevertheless, Elizabeth Olivet had demonstrated nothing but consummate professionalism throughout Bobby's sessions.

"OK, OK, so she didn't hit on you…" clarified Alex, "But she advised you to get laid, am I right?"

He was relieved that she'd figured it out before he had to come up with another lame euphemism. He and Eames' mutual lack of a personal life was not something they discussed often, but he was quietly determined to bring it up with her on this occasion. "Basically that's what she meant – but she didn't exactly prescribe it. You know what shrinks are like," he muttered.

Alex nodded. She knew Olivet's repertoire - the indirect method. "So, are you gonna?"

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. He knew what. "Follow her advice - go for a walk in the park." It was her turn for lame euphemisms.

He twitched and glanced around the bullpen to check if anyone was listening, and saw that they were still alone. He shrugged and picked up a pen and tapped it on the surface of his desk. He did not notice that the tap-tap-tapping resembled the physical act they were trying to discuss. "I don't know Eames. It's been a while," he finally answered, looking over at her with those dark brown eyes.

"Yeah, but it's like riding a bike right?" Her eyes shined back at his.

Goren tried to conceal a grin at the visual. "It can be."

She thought how good it was to see him smile and make an attempt at humor. His lips were soft and full. Where did that thought come from? "So you gonna hit the bars, or do you have a little black book?" she asked.

Goren looked bashful and shrugged. "I probably have a few numbers I could call, but they're… that's not what I want."

He had list of women who would probably agree to have sex with him in a heartbeat, but he'd always made it a mind-blowing experience for them. The list was getting dusty from under-use, and he was too exhausted to bother keeping up with that level of performance. When he had been a touch younger, and a lot more physically and mentally together, he'd screwed around a lot. Now, he just could not muster the energy to put on the whole shebang. His sexual desires had altered somehow. He understood that it was comfort and kindness that he now sought. Maybe some simple, plain human contact could bring him a temporary release from all his inner-chaos. He needed a friend, not a high-maintenance nightmare.

"It's not what you want? So you don't want sex?" asked the friend he had in mind.

He shook his head. She wasn't getting it. "Not with them – I don't want to go backwards. As for picking up in bars – it's just not for me anymore."

"Why not?" She was curious. If he wanted sex, how did he propose on getting it?

"I just…Olivet wants me to reduce stress and I don't think that would do it."

"Sex?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Why not?" she asked.

"It's not the sex part exactly. I like that part. It's the acting: the dates, the buying of fruity cocktails with dumb names, pretending to be 'on' when I've interviewed murder suspects all day, promising to call, hurt feelings when I don't, listening to stories I' m not interested in, telling stories they don't wanna hear, all the mental and bedroom gymnastics, analyzing what flowers really mean, deciding whether to stay until breakfast or run. I just can't do it anymore Eames. I'm tired of sexual politics. It's just too much effort."

Her tone turned mocking, with not a little disgust. "Too much effort? Well, that's probably why I can't find a guy in this city. They're all just too tired to take me on a date and listen to anything I have to say. It would take too much exertion to call. That's a great attitude Bobby."

He looked down at the desk in front of him. "I know," he acknowledged. "That's why I'm alone."

She softened at his honesty. "You feel alone?" she asked.

"I am alone Eames." He looked across at her and their eyes met. He wasn't embarrassed, but he looked slightly pained at that truth.

She nodded. "Yeah - me too Bobby. It's not so bad you know," she lied.

He allowed her lie to sneak by without challenge. "I can't understand why you are alone Eames. Those guys were morons if they didn't realize what a gem they'd mined.. I mean… it would be so easy with you."

She almost perked up at being called a gem until he'd added that last part. "Easy?"

"Yeah easy. All I mean is," he added quickly. "You're not like other women."

"I'm not? I'm like a sister you mean." This sounded all-too-familiar.

"No. I don't see you as a sister at all. What I mean is you don't play games like other women. I wouldn't have to put on an act with you." His words flowed out eagerly.

She noticed he wasn't talking about 'those guys' all of a sudden. "You wouldn't?"

"No – you already know me Eames - the good, the bad, and the ugly."

"Yeah I do. And you know me too." She looked up briefly, and he cast his eyes down just before anything significant could pass between them.

Giving his pen a rest, he picked up his mechanical pencil, and nervously clicked the eraser tip a little too quickly. At least five clicks went by before he resumed talking. "Yeah – I know you Eames. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Well I don't possess every possible type of knowledge about you." His words were loaded, but his voice was deceptively neutral.

She analyzed his utterance. Her brow wrinkled in confusion at the conclusion she came up with, and she sought clarification. "Bobby – are you asking me for sex?" Her intonation rose on the last word.

"No," he responded quickly, but quietly. He lay down the pencil and scanned his eyes around the office for eavesdroppers. They were still alone.

She lowered her voice anyway. "No? I got that wrong then. You didn't mean carnal knowledge? " She gave him a look which demanded the truth.

He looked back at her with resignation and sighed, "You didn't exactly get it wrong," he admitted.

"So you are asking me for sex?" she kept her voice soft - not wanting to scare him off back into his mouse-hole.

"I wasn't asking you precisely. I was just…. hinting."

"Hinting?"

He palmed his forehead in humiliation. "It's pathetic I know. I didn't want you to think I was harassing you Eames."

"Harassing me?" She sounded shocked.

"I'm gonna need to apologize tomorrow aren't I?" He had a hangdog expression.

"Well…that depends Goren."

"On what?"

"On how good the sex is."

He coughed to give himself time to figure out if she was joking or not. It was hard to tell with Eames. He decided to just keep his fool mouth shut and listened. Was she really entertaining this seriously?

She was. And she was being very matter-of-fact. "I mean, if I agree to this Goren, what then? I'd be your stress relief on occasion: no strings attached, no nagging calls, no boring stories, no drama. But what's in it for me?"

"You deserve better, I know," was his odd way of confirming that she'd outlined pretty much precisely what he had in mind.

"I know I deserve better Goren, and so do you believe it or not. It's only that..,"

"What?"

"Sometimes, I need an outlet for my stress too," she confessed.

"For the stress I cause you, you mean," he said with a guilty conscience.

She threw her head back and huffed. "Yeah, that exactly what I meant Goren, especially when you make comments like that." The sarcasm (if it had ever left) reared back up to protect her vulnerability. "It's not like I have a tough job or an insensitive partner or anything." She shot out her barbs and they hit their mark squarely.

He wasn't wounded. "Point taken Eames. It's only fair then, that I try to alleviate some of your stress too, in any way you wanted me to."

That last part intrigued her. "So it wouldn't be just you calling the shots?"

He looked at her sincerely. "No. If you needed me, I'd be there Eames."

She nodded and stewed over his words. She looked across at him with his messy, curly graying hair and three day growth. He was wearing an un-ironed blue button up shirt over a black undershirt. He wore no tie. He almost never did these days. He was so twitchy, and his eyes were so damn eager. She resented the fact that he looked so adorably Bobby. Damn him!

"Would there be kissing?" she piped up suddenly, her eyes drifting to his lips.

He cleared his throat and maintained his gaze albeit unsteadily. "Well, I hope there would be. It's kind of hard for me to do without kissing. I mean if you really don't want to, there are many sexual positions where face-to-face contact is not imperative." He felt disappointed as he looked at her lips. The lip gloss had left long ago, and they looked thin and dry and starved. They needed to be wet and plump full of blood in the way that only thorough kissing can do.

She held up one hand towards him. "OK, OK, Goren I get it. Kissing would be fine with me." From her time in vice, she knew that kisses were often not on the menu for sexual encounters. She couldn't take it if Bobby were so cold. With his mention of sexual positions, she had a another brief mental flash of him lined up behind her, his hard heat ready to...

"OK, well I'd like kissing to be a part of it too," he agreed. We are negotiating!

She nodded as though the whole conversation made sense. The sarcasm dissipated and her face fell. "If we do this, it could never, ever seep into the office or affect our work," she warned. Her eyes even more serious than her words.

"Of course - the partnership comes first," he agreed.

She nodded in approval. "We'd need a trial run first, and if one of us wants to put a stop to it, the other has to agree - no questions, no retributions," she added.

"That's fair Eames. I promise I'd back off if you asked me to, even if you asked right now." He found he didn't like discussing putting a stop to it before it had begun.

She mulled over his words and took a sip of her now cold coffee. She looked at the liquid in distaste, and then looked up at her partner with apprehension. "We could totally screw things up Bobby. You know that." she stated.

He was ready for that one. "OK maybe. Or maybe we could just…"

"Screw?" she interjected

He wasn't ready for that one. It's not what he meant, and he wanted to clarify. "Things have already been kind of screwed up between us lately. But I've been thinking, this might help; it could help…our relationship." His eyes were sincere.

"I thought you said no strings Bobby!"

"Our partnership then. There are just so many residual issues that we never deal with. Things have been frosty between us for a long time Eames. This could be a way to thaw a little, 'cos whatever we've been doing – well it's not working anymore. We've gotta try something different," he blurted out.

She nodded and to his surprise, she didn't challenge the veracity of his words. But she didn't comment either. Her thoughts were off somewhere else. He didn't know just where she was or what was on her mind. He didn't know that she wanted him.

He revved up his pro-intercourse campaign. "Sex Eames – it's a normal and healthy part of being a human being. And I know you probably don't want to hear it, but I do find you...sexually appealing – very much so." Even in that plain white blouse and tousled hair, she was appealing - very much so.

She eyed him dubiously.

He didn't push it. He knew she couldn't take a compliment. He changed tack, but his goal was still to get her consider going to bed with him. "Don't you miss it Eames – the physical side?" He looked at her questioningly. He knew it had been a long time between drinks for her too.

"Yeah I miss it," she said quietly, hiding behind her long bangs. "A lot."

"But you've just never thought about it…with me?" He was scared of her answer.

"Yeah I've thought about it." Her statement was factual. Her face and voice betrayed nothing.

"OK? And?" he prodded. Does she see me as a brother?

She took a breath. "I don't know. I guess… it's not a…wholly unpleasant notion," she admitted, looking over his shoulder at the lockers.

"How gratifying." he commented dryly, sounding a little like her. His belief in his own sex appeal was waning of late, and her turn of phrase did not help matters.

She shook her head in frustration, pinching her nose. He had to know how attractive he was, surely?

He maintained control of their discourse thinking that the more words he threw out, the more likely he was to persuade her. It wasn't his best tactic ever. "Look Eames, like I said - I am aware that you deserve the full package and not some… pitiable guy you work with. You should be able to have to have it all, and then some. And if that perfect man came along, I'd step away to see you happy. But I'm not that man, and I think you know that better than anyone. I don't want to pretend here."

She looked at him with pity at his use of the word 'pitiable'. Where was all his confidence and zest hiding away? He used to be brimming with it. No wonder he hadn't gotten any lately! He had developed the bad habit of diminishing his own value, and it pained her to see it. He once had a reputation as the Don Juan of the NYPD, and now he acted like he wasn't even worthy of a pity fuck. Eames didn't respond or try to defend him. How could she protect him from his own words and thoughts? Even if she tried to, he wouldn't believe her.

Worried by her silence, he sought to explain further; his words may have been frank, but his lack of confidence really wasn't helping him to attain his sexual objective. "Look Eames, it's honestly not in me to do it anymore: romance, dancing, flowers, dating, three month anniversaries. I'm on hiatus. It has to be this way for now, till I can find my way back to…wherever it is everyone else seems to live."

She nodded. It really wasn't in her anymore either; she was tired of it too. "I understand Bobby, you know I do," she said tenderly. Their eyes met, and they connected on some deeper plane. There was a reason why neither of them had a significant other, and that reason was fear of loss, and the unbearable pain that accompanied it.

Despite the intimacy, he didn't look around the bullpen again to check if they were safe. Even if they hadn't been the only two in the room, they would still be alone. He reached over pushed two fingertips towards her with the intention of touching her arm. He couldn't quite make it unless she reached to meet him half way. But she didn't, and he withdrew his hand. But it wasn't enough discouragement to abandon his plan when he had come so far.

"Eames, I just want, I need some solace; somewhere safe I can fall sometimes – Olivet's words," he added. He hated plagiarism almost as much as he hated being this honest. He gave her an unguarded look, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't ridicule him for this one.

She caught his look and exhaled, rubbing her forehead. She seemed lost and confused, but her eyes were not unsympathetic. What else could he say to reassure her?

"I just want you to assure you that… I respect you. I'd respect us," he tried.

"How gratifying!" She echoed his earlier words.

Surprisingly, her sarcasm lifted his spirits. "So respect is a turn-off?" he challenged.

"No, it's good Bobby. It just doesn't sound very...fun."

There was her problem; he was being too serious. "We could have fun too. Sex can be great fun," he declared.

"What, you mean you'll bring whipped cream," she asked dryly.

"I don't know about that Eames. I'm supposed to be watching my cholesterol." He gave her a cheeky smile. She hadn't seen that particular brand of happiness in quite a long time, and she really really wanted more of it.

She responded with a smile of her own, but it soon faded and she shook her head. "I just don't know about all of this Bobby."

He sighed in acquiescence. "Well it was just an idea Eames. Tell me honestly if it's too risky or unappealing, and I won't ever breathe another world about it; I trust your judgment on this." His chocolate eyes were sincere, but resigned.

She dodged his attractive long-lashed eyes, and his request. "Goren…you know this is the longest we've talked in months - years maybe."

"I know. I've been practicing the whole verbal communication thing – with Olivet." He said self-consciously.

"Yeah, well I think you've practiced enough for today."

He nodded, chastised. She'd had her fill of this conversation, and he understood he'd been lucky that it had gotten this far. She might consider his proposal down the track at least. He found himself (and his body) crestfallen as she stood and reached for her jacket and handbag, but at least he'd planted a seed. "You're going home. I've upset you," he stated. It wasn't a question; it was an observation.

"No you haven't upset me, but I think I might go for a walk in the park."

"What?" He took her literally for a moment, thinking of how dark and cold it would be outside.

And then she heard the penny drop.

"You coming Bobby?" She asked as she walked away. Who was she to argue with Olivet? The woman was a professional psychologist after all.

She heard him fumbling with his pens and binder as he grabbed his coat and shuffled quickly on her trail to the elevator.

Eames smiled inwardly at the lack of coordination caused by his enthusiasm. It was another Bobby trait she had come to adore.

The elevator doors closed behind them, and they were alone. His hands didn't hesitate to grasp her hips as he bent down and pressed those warm soft lips and that hot strong body against her for the first time. She swiftly realized that kissing was even better than skittles as an ice-breaker.

As he deepened the kiss (mmm coffee!) with a strange groan, it became apparent that all his confidence had not been obliterated after all – far from it in fact. She wanted to remind him of their agreement to keep 'this' out of the office, but she supposed that they were technically in the elevator - so it didn't count.

As his heat and passion propelled her into a state of oblivion, the last vague notion she had was to send Elizabeth Olivet a 'Thank You' card.

Then she stopped thinking altogether and kissed him back, taking what was rightfully hers.