Figuring It Out

Disclaimer: I do not own Stephanie Plum or Joe Morelli. They are the property of Janet Evanovich. These characters are being used without her permission, without any profit whatsoever. Please do not sue me—I am a poor librarian, still living at home with my parents.

A huge thank you to my awesome beta reader, Julie, for reading this fic and offering great suggestions, as always.

"I'll take the Ducati today and leave you the truck. And when I get off work we should talk."

"Oh boy. More talk. That never gets us anywhere."

"Okay, maybe we shouldn't talk. Maybe we should just have sweaty sex."

Finally, a sport I could enjoy.

(Stephanie and Joe Morelli, taken from "Hard Eight")

I lay back down in Morelli's bed, replaying the conversation in my mind, and thinking that it was too early to be up. Morelli always got up before 6AM, and it was just after six right now. Practically the middle of the night. After what Val and I had gone through yesterday, I decided that I deserved a few extra hours of sleep.

I pulled the covers over me, up to my chin, and thought about the events that had occurred over the past couple of weeks with me and Morelli. We'd broken up because I'd refused to give up my job as a bounty hunter. It wasn't like it was a particularly good job. Or even that I was that great at it. Or that I enjoyed it, the way you're supposed to look forward to going to work in the morning if you're doing something you know you're meant to do. My refusing to quit had mostly been stubbornness on my part, and I knew that this would keep me from quitting anytime soon.

Problem was, I suspected that my job would prevent me and Morelli from being completely happy together. Except, what he failed to consider was the fact that I wasn't all that pleased with his profession. His being a cop meant he worked long, irregular hours, and he could get shot at any moment. Morelli might be working with people who were competent and had his back, but he would be the first to admit that being a cop was a lot more dangerous than working as a manager at a bank or the button factory.

Given all of this, it seemed pretty pompous and chauvinistic of him to expect that the woman he might eventually marry would just quit her job and be a Burg housewife, but he'd continue to risk his life on a daily basis.

Not that Morelli expected that, exactly, but I figured that his demanding that I quit my job would just be the first step in the path descending to stay at home motherhood. I wasn't ready for that now, nor was I altogether certain that I ever wanted kids. My opinions on having kids changed periodically, practically day to day. It seemed like both of our families took it for granted that Morelli and I would have at least a few offspring, but I was never one to do something just because it was expected of me.

Moreover, Morelli and I had never really talked about what we wanted as far as kids went. Or who would be responsible for what. I could see it in my mind's eye—against my wishes, him staying a cop and landing me with five wild boys who adored their father but flat out ignored me in his absence.

What I knew was that I didn't want marriage anytime soon. I wasn't sure how Morelli felt about this. He hadn't been all that happy when my mom and grandmother had pushed me into planning the wedding but, then again, we hadn't really talked about wedding plans among ourselves before my family got involved. His mom and grandmother had pushed him into agreeing to marry me—without me necessarily wanting to be his wife—and mine had pushed him into getting the thing planned and over with before either one of us could back out.

I'd expected us to break up, or at least take a temporary break, in the midst of all of the planning. We hadn't been communicating with each other for weeks, but communication wasn't really one of our strong points. Morelli and I cared about each other, loved each other, but serious talks tended to end in arguments. The only good thing about these arguments was that they resulted in make up sex.

I'd expected Morelli to come over to my apartment a few days after we'd "broken up" because I had refused to quit my job. I'd figured that we'd agree that marriage wasn't right for us at this point, but that we both wanted to be together as a couple. Morelli would apologize for yelling at me and demanding I quit my job. Then, lots of makeup sex would follow, and Morelli and I would be a couple once more.

It hadn't worked out like that.

We'd gone weeks without speaking, and I hadn't called because I'd figured that he'd gotten busy and maybe gone undercover or something like that. I assumed that once we caught up with each other, the makeup sex would occur and everything would go back to normal. What I hadn't realized was that my refusing to quit being a bounty hunter meant, to Morelli, that I'd said no to him. I guessed that it had, but I should have been a little more clear about my still wanting to be with him but not being ready for marriage. Wasn't that the whole point of our argument?

I honestly didn't remember. It had been weeks ago.

Morelli's absence made Ranger's ever present appearance seem enticing and scary. Sure, I'd entertained the notion of having sex with Ranger, even fantasized about it—but never when I was doing the deed with Morelli—but after Morelli and I had broken up, the possibility of a hookup with Ranger seemed more appealing. After it did happen, I missed Morelli more than I had before, and even Ranger told me to make things right with him.

Well, now disaster had brought Morelli and I back together, and even though we hadn't actually had sex the previous night, we had slept together and done some heavy duty kissing. The fact that Morelli wanted us to talk after he got back from work was encouraging. Okay, so the feminist in me might have been a tad ticked off that Morelli expected me to be at his house when he returned, but I reminded myself that he'd also left me the truck, so it wasn't like he expected me to stay at his house the entire day, just waiting around for him.

I blew out a sigh and stared at Bob, who was sleeping on Morelli's pillow. I wondered if he slept on my pillow when I wasn't there. The thought was not appealing. Maybe I should do the laundry while I was there…or at least turn the sheet on my pillowcase inside out.

An hour later, I was still awake and thinking about the past twelve hours with Morelli. My stomach was starting to growl, so I decided to forgo trying to sleep and get some breakfast. I rummaged through Morelli's closet and found a pair of gray sweatpants and a red t-shirt, both way too big on me to wear outside of the house. I brought them to my face to make sure they smelled fresh. Convinced that they were clean, I put them on, and headed downstairs. I couldn't keep the smile off my face. It felt so good to be wearing Morelli's clothes. They felt soft against my skin and so familiar. Sort of like Morelli was standing next to me, holding me. The experience was very sensual and made me feel warm and tingly.

Bob followed me to the kitchen, and I poured some dog crunchies into his bowl before looking through the cabinets for cereal.

I'd missed Bob, too.

Searching through the cabinets felt familiar, not at all intrusive. I'd spent enough time at Morelli's house to know where he kept his cereal. I wondered if "my" box of frosted flakes was still there. I checked the cabinet where I'd last put it, and there it was. Jackpot. It was almost empty, and I wondered if Morelli had been eating it in my absence, or if it had been that low before we'd broken up. There was still enough inside for a decent sized bowl. Morelli had left out the pot of coffee, and I poured myself a cup, adding plenty of milk and sugar.

Feeling content, I sat down and devoured my breakfast, watching Bob as he inhaled his food. He was finished eating way before I was, and gave me a hopeful look in case I'd take pity on him and give him seconds.

"Not this time, Bob," I told him, and he barked before lying down to take a nap at the table.

I finished the cereal and coffee, then rinsed out my mug and bowl in the sink. Housework finished, I debated between going back to bed or looking for clothes I'd left at Morelli's house from the last time I'd spent the night. Opting for the latter—I'd have to head to Vinnie's office within an hour anyway, to see if any more FTAs came in—I made my way upstairs.

I reluctantly exchanged the sweatshirt and sweatpants for the one set of clothes I'd accidentally left at Morelli's house before our breakout. The clothing consisted of a pair of jeans, green underwear, and a matching green t-shirt. Not that anyone would notice. Except Morelli, if he kept his promise about us having sex later today. Something to look forward to.

The only new FTA to come in was a computer hacker who'd been stealing money from major credit card companies. He came with a three thousand dollar bond. That meant three hundred for me, or enough for groceries for two weeks. Maybe three if I cut down on the tasty cakes. Lula told me that I tend to overcompensate when I don't have sex, so if things went well with Morelli, I wouldn't have to buy nearly as much candy and donuts.

Since I had nothing pressing to do, I decided to see where I could get with the FTA. His name was Mervin Spittle and he'd had no prior charges. I examined his picture and description, and saw that he was only a few inches taller than me and not overweight. If I involved Lula, I'd have to pay her part of the fee, and I really needed all of it. I headed to my apartment to collect my stun gun, handcuffs, and pepper spray before driving Morelli's truck to Spittle's neighborhood. Like everything else in his house, the truck felt comfortable and familiar.

Fate was smiling on me that day, or maybe it figured I'd dealt with more than my fair share of pain with Abruzzi, and I managed to apprehend Spittle with the promise of rescheduling his court date. He shot me a nasty look when I dropped him off at the police station, but Connie arrived before too long and we got Spittle bonded out within an hour. I figured that he probably wouldn't miss his court date the second time.

I got my body receipt and decided against returning to Vinnie's office for a second time that day. I'd wait a day or so to collect the check when I checked to see if anyone else had come in. Since it was just after 12, I picked up a meatball sub at Pinos and wondered how I should spend the rest of the day. I tried calling Mary Lou, but only got her voicemail. I left a short message suggesting that we get together and then headed back to Morelli's house. My arm was still hurting, so I looked for some painkillers in the medicine cabinet. Ten minutes after they started kicking in, so did exhaustion, and I decided to take a nap.

Morelli returned around 4, which was extremely early for him. I'd just gotten up from a nap on his couch, and was still groggy from sleep. I moved the blanket I'd borrowed away on top of the couch and stood up to say hello. Practically as soon as Morelli saw me, he scooped me up into his arms and pulled me into a long hug and kiss on the forehead. His stubble tickled my face, but the kiss felt good. Familiar. Not at all like Ranger's kisses.

"Missed you," he murmured into my ear.

His scent wafted over me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. "Same here."

We were quiet for a few minutes, just holding each other. Morelli picked me up, almost effortlessly, and sat down on the couch, me in his lap. He kept an arm around my back and ran his free hand through my hair. I rested my head against his chest, snuggling against his flannel shirt. It was almost as soft as the blanket I'd tucked myself into.

"I really missed you," he told me, voice cracking slightly.

I swallowed hard, and looked up at him. "Me too."

We cuddled for a little while, and I was almost asleep when Morelli said, "Should we have that talk now?"

I tilted my head back to see his face better. "I don't want us to be broken up," I said simply.

His arms, already wrapped around me securely, pulled me into a tighter hug. "Me neither, Cupcake."

I sighed. I didn't want to have a serious discussion at that moment. Or ever. I wanted to stay in Morelli's arms for awhile, feel safe, and then maybe head to his bedroom and have sex. Lots of sex.

He must have gotten the meaning behind my sigh. He smiled at me—a tired smile, but still a smile.

"Sex first?" he asked, grinning. "Or we could have an early dinner…"

He said the last part like he didn't really mean it, and didn't expect me to take it seriously.

"Definitely sex first," I agreed.

He carried me upstairs and a half an hour later, with Morelli's arms wrapped around me, I was remembering why the last several weeks had been so horrible. I was also a contented and completely relaxed ball of mush. Morelli watched me affectionately as I nestled closer against him. It might have been August, but the air conditioning was on pretty high, and I didn't have any clothes on, and Morelli was nice and warm. How he always managed to be warm I had no idea, but I'd heard somewhere that men have more body heat than women.

"Cupcake?" Morelli asked me, one hand tracing the hairs on my right hand, and I nodded sleepily. "Ready for round two?"

I smiled up at him. "Give me ten more minutes to recover from round one."

He laughed at this, and I snuggled even closer to Morelli. He moved the covers over my chest, and I sighed contentedly.

Another half hour after later, and I was half asleep from what had followed. I imagined that Morelli would still be up for more, but I would need at least a three hour nap before I was ready for anything else. Also, I was getting hungry. It was nearly 6, the usual time that I ate dinner.

Morelli hadn't brought anything home, and I was seriously craving peanut butter, so we ended up eating peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches for dinner. To balance out the salt from the potato chips, we ate mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert. The food had revived me, and after a third round with Morelli, I was thinking that I'd need to take off from work the next day. There was no doubt about it…being back with Morelli was magical. He was perfect, period.

I dozed off for awhile while he watched TV—he'd recently moved the TV from the living room to the bedroom—and woke up a little after 10 that night. I figured that I'd better brush my teeth if I wanted to avoid cavities. Good thing I was right handed, because my left one was still throbbing. Morelli followed me into the bathroom, and I assumed that he was waiting for his turn at the sink.

"You going to shower?"

I shrugged, not getting the meaning at first. "I'm pretty tired."

He looked crestfallen. "Oh."

Then it hit me, and I grinned. "OH!"

Morelli laughed. "You've changed your mind?"

"You'd have to help with the shampoo part. My left arm's still kind of sore."

He pretended to consider this. "I think I could manage that. Maybe even throw in a back rub."

There was no question, really. Morelli gave amazing back rubs.

Nearly an hour later, contented and completely exhausted, Morelli sheepishly handed me a flannel nightgown from his closet.

"I thought I was out of clean pajamas," I said, pulling it over my head.

Morelli grinned at me as he helped button me in. "You were. Nightgowns aren't PJs."

I rolled my eyes and headed towards the bedroom.

"So, Steph," he began, and I knew what was coming next.

I gave him a mock glare. "No more sex. You've worn me out," I told him, adding a finger shake for emphasis.

"How about talking?"

I wanted to put this off as well, but it had to happen sooner or later. Maybe it was better now, after we'd been intimate. That had to count for makeup sex, right?

I jumped into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, sighing. "Do we have to?"

Morelli followed suit, holding me against him with one arm. "We don't have to talk tonight, but the longer we wait, the harder it will be."

That was Morelli, the voice of reason. I pouted, but agreed.

"Do you want to go first?" I asked, more out of a desire not to go first than anything else. The relaxation I felt from the shower and sex began evaporating from my body, and all that remained was dread and exhaustion.

"Okay." He pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around my chest, holding me upright but in a comfortable position, which I took to be a good sign. "I don't think either of us is ready for marriage."

Well, that was the understatement of the year. I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. Almost without being aware of it, Morelli began rubbing my shoulders.

"I never really wanted to get married," I pointed out. "First it was your family, and then it was mine."

I could see Morelli nod from the corner of my eye. "There was definitely a lot of family pressure."

I turned to face him. He deserved that. "I had a bad marriage with Dickie, Joe. I l-like you…" Damn it. I tried again. "You mean a lot to me." Better. "But I'm just not ready to try it again. Not now."

Another nod. "I get that, Steph. I know that he hurt you. I don't want to rush you."

A wave of gratitude swept over me. "I think it could happen eventually," I offered. "But not now."

"What about us living together?" Morelli pressed. When I was quiet for a second longer than it took to process the question, he added, "You wouldn't have to give up your apartment."

Keeping the apartment would make things easier if living together didn't work out. I hated the idea of being homeless, however temporarily. Besides, even if everything did work out, I liked having my own space, and even though I'd spent nights at Morelli's house, it wasn't the same thing as thinking of it as my home address. What would happen when we got into fights?

I knew there'd be more of those.

Besides, his house only had one complete bathroom.

"Maybe," I conceded. "We could try it out."

Morelli's eyebrows twitched, and I knew he was hiding a grin. I tried to swallow a yawn as he held me, his arms around me the only thing keeping me from wanting to fall asleep. Also, feeling that I might as well get it out of the way, I added, "I'm not giving up my job."

Morelli sighed. "I saw that one coming. Couldn't you consider doing something safer, like being a stunt devil or becoming a terrorist? Not that being a terrorist wouldn't present a new set of problems…"

I rolled my eyes at him. "No."

"Okay," he sighed again, and I knew this meant that he wasn't happy about my decision, but he hoped that I'd change my mind sooner rather than later. "But would you promise to be extra careful and keep me informed? I don't want to get a call saying I have to bail you out of jail. Or that I have to arrest you. You know I'll bend the rules for you, Cupcake, but I have to know about it beforehand."

"How can I know if I'm going to break and enter an FTA's house beforehand?" I argued. "Besides, it's usually Lula's idea."

"Okay, not beforehand," he amended. "Just, would you give me the heads up before I hear about it from one of my men?"

That was fair. Mostly.

"Agreed."

Morelli kissed me on the forehead and held me close to him. "I'll ask my mom to have my grandmother cool it with the marriage and 'living in sin' stuff."

"I'll get my mom to butt out, too," I promised, knowing that my family had contributed a lot which led up to our breakup.

At this point, she'd probably just be happy that we were back together.

"Anything else?" Morelli queried.

There was the Ranger issue, but I didn't want to deal with that tonight. Or at all. I was fairly certain that his code of honor would keep him from attempting to poach me from Morelli, now that we were back together.

Better to let sleeping dogs lie. At least for now.

I shook my head. "We're good?" I confirmed.

He kissed me on the forehead once more. "Yeah, Cupcake. We're good."

We were quiet for awhile, Morelli holding me against him and me trying to stay awake so I could enjoy being near him. Eventually, though, a yawn escaped from my lips.

"Time for bed," Morelli told me, curling up around me and putting his arms around my chest.

"Not tired," I half protested.

He laughed. "Cupcake, you can't even keep your eyes open."

"Mmph," I grumbled.

"Want me to tell you a story?" Morelli offered. I half nodded through my barely opened eyelids. "Okay, so, once upon a time, there was an extremely handsome little boy, and an adorable but slightly crazy little girl who lived on his street."

"Crazy little girl?" I echoed.

"We both know you're crazy, Cupcake. That's one of the reasons I love you."

Well, all right, when Morelli put it that way, I guessed that I couldn't argue with him.

The End