Honest to God, this started out just as an angsty piece. I don't know what the hell happened but it went in a direction I didn't intend. Since I'm taking my time getting to Ichabbie in my other story, I figured why not share a little tension with you all? So, um, enjoy?

"What's this?"

Abbie stooped down to pick up the small white square. It had fallen out of Crane's coat pocket when he'd hastily shrugged it on as they made their way out of the archives.

"Oh that's…," he said quickly, attempting to reclaim it but she turned her back and held it out of his reach.

She flicked it over between her fingers. It was a picture of her. A worn wallet-sized photo of the portrait she'd taken after she'd graduated from the academy. They'd given everyone free photo packages just like the portraits kids used to get in grade school. She vaguely remembered throwing the untouched packet into a drawer, disinterested in hanging pictures of herself around her house or handing them out like some overenthusiastic schoolgirl.

She looked over her shoulder at Crane questioningly. He stood tensely, flexing his hands at his sides, unwilling to look at her in the eye.

"It's me."

He nodded his head curtly, daring to glance up at her. She slowly turned toward him and raised her eyebrows, studying the dog-eared picture. She looked up at him again.

"You had it in your pocket?"

Taking a deep breath, he looked at her warily before carefully responding. "Yes."

She blinked in surprise. Ever since she'd returned, things between her and Crane were strained at best. Their flow, their ability to stay in sync, was off.

At first, she thought it was just her trying to adjust to the real-world again but the more time passed, the more she realized it was him who was holding back. She'd noticed it but didn't want to make it an issue. Now, staring at the tattered photo of herself, she realized maybe it was just her not wanting to face the truth.

Every time they were in the same room, she could feel him watch her every move, hear his breath hitch whenever she got close to him. She dismissed it as him being overprotective and jumpier than usual but then she'd catch him staring at her out of the corner of her eye. He looked at her so tenderly, yearning to say something yet refraining from sharing it with her.

She nodded thoughtfully, sucking her cheeks in. Maybe today was the day he'd decide to share his deep dark secret. She swallowed thickly and cleared her throat. She held out the photo to him, staring at the front of his shirt. Or maybe she just wasn't ready to hear him out. He looked at her outstretched hand and then at her.

She shrugged. "Not my best angle," she said dismissively, doing her best to avoid his gaze.

He took a few steps toward her, the sound of his boots echoing throughout the ancient structure. She moved her hand nearer to her chest as she realized how close he was getting. She stepped back bumping into the table behind her. There was no way she could escape this without making it awkward so she froze.

Her eyelids flickered as he stopped, his lean frame invading her personal space. She could feel the heat of his body as she studied the rise and fall of his virile chest. She tensed up as he slowly reached toward her hand, her trembling fingers pinching the photo against her chest. His long fingers delicately caressed her hand, his fingertips hovering dangerously close to her left breast. He lowered his head, puffs of his breath warming the top of her head.

He murmured into her soft hair near her ear, "And what, pray tell, is your best angle, Lieutenant?"

P.S. I've never written smut before and wouldn't know where to start. So I think I'll just leave this here and hopefully it inspires somebody to gift us with some smutty Ichabbie. :)

Your teasing wimp of a writer,

semul