Special circumstances

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
A/N: Thanks to becoolbec for beta-reading.
"I like your hair up like that."

He wouldn't have said a thing if he hadn't caught a glimpse of red and green folded paper, hidden behind a pile of files on her desk. He doesn't dare to mention it yet, because he's not sure what it means, or why he even offered her the rose in the first place. Lately, it's been increasingly difficult to discern what is part of the plan, and what isn't.

She touches her hair self-consciously and seems to hesitate before clearing her throat. "Thanks."

She turns to face her desk a fraction of a second too late for him not to notice her cheeks tainting the slightest shade of pink.

"I would have thought a woman in your position wouldn't be embarrassed by a simple compliment."

"Actually, I'm more familiar with salacious remarks," she replies before thinking, and immediately regrets it.

His coy smile grows larger. "Well, in that case, I can think of a thing or two…"

"Your sleeve, please", she says forcing her tone neutral as she motions for him to pull up his sleeve. She knows she's now blushing furiously, but he's tactful enough not to mention it.

She's very careful not to look him in the eye. When he leaves without another word, she's not sure if she's disappointed or relieved.

-----------------

"I like your hair shorter. And, um, brown."

"Red seemed a little too distinctive," she states absently, her eyes never leaving the moving landscape through the train's window.

She knows he's only trying to deflate her evident tension, but she can't ignore Kellerman's closeness or the tight knots forming in her stomach.

This is not how she had imagined her next encounter with Michael Scofield.

"How did you cut it?" he insists, intent on making her keep this line of thoughts at bay.

"Razor. It's a little crooked, but my arm was killing me."

He winces before tracing the line of her jaw with soft fingers.

"You look pretty good for a woman on the run."

She can't help but smile and when their eyes lock, what she sees is exactly what she hoped for when she imagined her next encounter with Michael Scofield.

Later, when he joins her in the bathroom and she delivers her most awkward declaration of love to date, she's doesn't have time to reflect on the absurdity of skipping bail to enjoy the best kiss in her life in a train's toilets. Attempted murders and governmental conspiracies aside, this is precisely what she had hoped this reunion would be.

-----------------

"I like your hair all messy like that," he murmurs, letting his hand run up her arm to slide through tangled locks.

She laughs softly and he feels her head shake lightly against his chest. "I'm beginning to wonder if there anything else you like about me, Scofield."

"I thought I had just made that clear," he replies, his smile morphing into a sly grin.

"You know, when this is all over, you'll have to court me properly."

"Court you?"

"You know, take me on proper dates. Dinner, movie, the whole thing. Drive me back to my apartment. If you play your cards right, I might let you kiss me at the end of the night."

"What, I don't even get to kiss you during the film?"

"Absolutely not!" she exclaims, feigning outrage. "Hold my hand, maybe," she amends, absently tracing the patterns of his tattooed stomach.

"I kind of assumed we were passed that stage."

"Oh, no. These are special circumstances. When it's over, all bets are off."

"What, you'll become a nice girl again?"

"Well, I'll have a reputation to restore."

"I see."

They're silent for a moment, playing with each other's skin,

"You know, maybe we should make the best of these… special circumstances."

"I guess we should," she agrees, her fingers lowering to caress unstained flesh.

-----------------