Author's Note: I'm Baaack.
I don't own these characters, never will. Just having some good decent all-american fun with them.
Big Thanks to Scripted Scarlet - girl, you got me back in the game.
"I can't wait to take off these shoes," Alex says wearily as she climbs the steps to her new apartment.
"They hurt? You've been walking just fine," Bobby says as his eyes follow the artful curve of her calf that descends down to her delicately decorated feet. Sexy four-inch heels with an open toe revealing glittery blue polish.
"What can I say? Woman pay for the price that is beauty," Alex retorts as she swings her apartment door open. "Do you want to come in for coffee?"
"Ah…sure, that'd be nice," he says with a shrug.
"Make yourself at home. I'm still fixing this place up so don't mind the unpacked boxes," she says disappearing into the kitchen.
Lush. It's the first word that comes to mind when Bobby looks around Alex's new apartment. After so many sleepless nights, she finally shook off her stubborn pride and admitted that she didn't want to keep the house in Rockaway. Bobby remembers her steely resolve to stay in the house after her release from the hospital.
'I'm not going to let some psychopath run me out of my home, Bobby.'
It took guts to sleep alone in the house so soon after such a violation. It took more guts for Alex to admit that she couldn't bear going home at night, routinely searching the rooms and leaving lights on when she did finally sleep.
They scoured the newspapers and found a great walk-up just 10 blocks from Bobby's house. It was a fixer-upper but Alex managed to make it both homey and sensual in a short period of time. Bobby bit his tongue and refrained from yelling a hallelujah that she bought all new furniture. That plaid monstrosity she had was uncomfortable and downright ugly. Early in their partnership Bobby said as much and told Alex that it wasn't at all what he imagined she would buy. When the color drained from her cheeks, he realized he said the absolute wrong thing. Again.
Turns out it was Joe's and even after their wedding he refused to part with it.
'Every relationship has its compromising, Bobby.'
Needless to say, Bobby never asked why she kept it after so many years after Joe's death. He wasn't that much of an ignorant asshole.
But now, the couch is a calming sage color with soft fluffy decorative pillows accented with splashes of red and chocolate. A cashmere throw lies haphazardly on the arm, beckoning you to snuggle right in. This is what I imagined about you, Eames. The room smelled of caramel apples and a hint of the vanilla spiced perfume she had taken to wear lately. The room was best described as luxurious, practical and yet startlingly exciting.
Just like the woman.
"So what do you think?"
Bobby jumps at the sound of Alex's voice so near and knocks some coffee out of the mugs she is holding.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry, Eames," Bobby says looking at the liquid spreading across her hardwood floor.
"It's alright, Bobby," she says retreating into the kitchen and returning with a roll of paper towels. "Here," she says handing him a few sheets.
"You didn't get burned did you?" he asks bending down and trying to absorb the mess.
"No, I jumped back quick enough," she says, joining him in the clean up. "It's my fault anyway, I spooked you. You were in your head again, Bobby."
Bobby chokes back a laugh. He could always count on Eames to let him know when he was retreating into himself. If her words didn't bring him back to reality, she never had a problem with bopping him upside the head.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to," Bobby says wiping down the floor.
"I know. It's good to know some things never change," she says with a small smile.
When their eyes meet they both laugh at the situation. And then there is warmth.
Luscious tantalizing warmth as their wet hands tangle inadvertently with each other's.
Alex hears the ever so subtle hitch in Bobby's breath. When he slowly slides his index finger over hers she cannot stop her tongue from running over her now parched lips.
Bobby watches in fascination as Alex's tiny pink tongue skims the edges of her lips. When it disappears, he remembers how cunningly sharp that delicate muscle can be.
"Uh…here," he says, grabbing both wet towels and standing up quickly. "I'll throw these away and make us new cups."
TBC
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