Title: Undercovers
Author: AnitaB
Author's Notes: Alex and Bobby are supposed to be together. I know it and you know it. But I don't think they know it yet. At least not consciously. A new case puts them undercover and the playacting involved is going to open some eyes. Bobby/Alex romantic smut ahead. I am the queen.
I own nothing and nothing I do own would be worth the lawyer's fees of suing me. No money is made and no infringement is intended.
Undercovers
By AnitaB
Chapter one: Clothes and Car Rides
/Wow…\\ You'd think seeing a guy in a suit five or more days a week for years would inure a woman to the line of his neck and shoulders. But… somehow a tux could make a whole hell of a lot of difference. /Damnit, Eames, get your head on straight.\\
Dragging her eyes off the broad lines of his shoulders, Alex noticed the tension in his arms in the instant before those hands tugged uncomfortably at the collar and lapels of the jacket. It was such a… little boy… thing to do. Not to mention incredibly cute.
And not helping her pulse slow back down in the slightest. Trying to peel her nails from her palms, she watched Bobby's hands move to fidget at the bowtie. Weird, considering he wore ties on a daily basis. And those ties had never made her eyes linger so … attentively on the lean, strong lines of his hands.
And then he spoke. "Remind me again, Eames, why we're doing this?" And Alex found herself looking at him more than listening. /Eames, stop it, now.\\
"You know why, Bobby. Three dead call girls with ties to New York's finest and charity balls."
Carver stepped through the far door with a 'sad but typical' shake of his head. "And every potential suspect on the list had lawyers even better connected than they are. We couldn't get an interview with their fingerprints on a murder weapon in victim blood." The DA nodded to Alex over Bobby's shoulder. "Hence the clothes, invites and limo."
"You mean monkey suit." /That's my Bobby…\\ "What guy did we confiscate this from… tight in the…" His hand tugged again at the collar of the shirt, but the words just stopped. Something inside Alex preened at the way his jaw dropped and his fingers hung limp from his tie. "Eames,"
"I think my slit beats your neckline for bad wardrobe." Splaying her hands in front of said slit where it ended mid-thigh, she knew she wanted to see that look on his face longer.
"No," He shook his head, eyes still wandering over her costume to stop in the middle of her chest. "But your neckline beats the hell out of mine for being dangerous to normal breathing."
In all those cold nights in fishnets and furs, Alex had never seen or reveled in the heat in a man's eyes like this. Feeling the extra sway in her walk, she moved closer to those broad shoulders and strong hands. His face seemed oddly close. Ah, the power of four inch stilettos. She'd nearly forgotten. "Didn't your parents ever teach you to tie one of these things?" Fingers brushed up his shirt buttons on the way to straighten and barely loosen the bow. "They're not supposed to be a ligature…" her eyes rose from her fingers as his hand moved to rest on the curve of her back. Two fingertips found the top hem of the back of the dress and skin. In a stilted frozen moment, their eyes met and something hung awkwardly in the air between them.
"So what's the holdup? Limo's waiting and paid by the hour." Captain Deakins tapped his watch on the way into the room and only then looked up. "In character already? Good, get going and get me a lead."
/This is insane.\\ "Uh, on it, Captain." Pulling back, Alex felt his hand slowly leave her side as her hands slowly left his chest. "We shouldn't hold up the ball."
Bobby gave her a weird smile then held out an arm. "Shall we, my lady?"
Her fingers trembled as they curved around the strong line of his arm. His hand covered hers and the trembling just stopped. "Of course, John."
His grin got wider and Alex just knew something was coming. "Whatever you say… Marsha."
She was fighting not to laugh as 'John' led 'Marsha' down to the car. The weird little twists in his mind were always so fascinating.
000
It was disconcerting at best. And distracting as hell at the other end. In all their years working together and all her undercover rigs, his partner had never looked like that. She'd never looked at him like that before. Or stood so close with her hands on his chest. He'd never laid a hand in the small of her back and felt skin under his fingers. And she'd never been within such easy reach of his lips.
/What are you doing to me, Alex?\\
Here he was, Detective Robert Goren, schizophrenic legend of the NYPD sitting in a limousine helplessly thinking about kissing his partner. Bobby was thinking about his hand flat against the skin above that hem, pulling her closer. /Down, Robert.\\ "So, Marsha, where in that getup did you hide your gun?" /That's right, Robert. Case, murder case.\\
"You're not the only one in a monkey suit, John. All I could manage was a hidden knife." Her fingers patted the fabric over her hip, three inches above the slit in her dress. /That's my Alex, armed and dangerous.\\ "Seems the high class girls don't plan to carry concealed."
He was smiling and he knew it as he reached for the button of his tux jacket. "Seems the high class boys do." Spreading open the fabric, Bobby loved the smile on her face when she saw the shoulder holster and belt clip. "I managed a spare. Smaller grip's on the belt." He tilted his head in an almost shrug-like motion. "If you end up needing one, Eames."
The idea of her reaching for it did weird things to his gut. Her fingers sliding along his belt, hands inside his jacket, her body standing so close to him in those high, high heels. Bobby had never thought he'd be almost hoping for trouble on an operation. But then that look on her face… made him almost hope for a lot of things he'd never thought about on the job. Like the way her skin might feel under his hands, warm and smooth. The strong, lean lines of her body in his arms. /Stop it, Goren, you know you can't have Alex like that. Be happy with how much of her you have already.\\ But when she looked at him like that… it was hard to rein in his thoughts. "Always know just what to give a girl, dontcha Bobby?"
"Yeah, I got a few ideas…" His thoughts on those ideas led to a fascinating picture of her legs around his waist and her nails in his back, only to be interrupted by the limo pulling to a stop. It was time. "Shall we, Marsha?"
Only when Alex took his hand did Bobby realize he'd held one out. "Of course, Johnny, we mustn't keep our high class bunch of potential suspects waiting." /Oh, yeah, murder case.\\ Twining his fingers through hers, he looked down at their joined hands for a second. He was going to owe Deakins and Carver for this. The only question was whether it would be a drink or a sucker punch.
And if Bobby would actually get to give it to them. "Come on, Eames."
In four inch heels, Alex hit the door an arm's length before him. The strength and force wrapped up in this short woman simply dazzled him sometimes. "So," she smiled over at him as they passed the greeters and moved toward the dance floor. "How should we go about… getting the right people's attention here?"
The trail of evidence flashed before his brain and he knew exactly what they should do. Flagrant, obvious, socially inappropriate displays. Pretty much anything and everything you could get kicked out of a restaurant for doing. "Offend their fragile, sexually repressed little minds out?" /Pretty much any picture I've thought of all night long…\\
Her smile faltered and she swallowed… twice. Alex slowly raised her eyes back to his and grinned widely. "Ever seen dirty dancing?"
She was trying to kill him, trying to make every blood cell in his body head south with the thought of her body moving against his. Her skin under his fingers… sometimes he loved his job. And hated it. Bobby found himself returning the grin and following the grip of her hand out onto the floor. "Come here… Baby." Alex stepped into his arms and the constant whirling of his brain just … slowed. Her arms curling around his neck seemed to be the cause. Or maybe it was the line of her hip under his hand, leading his fingers upward. Her skin burned his hands as he helplessly pulled her closer. It was… quiet inside his head and Alex was pressing closer against his chest. /Alex…\\
000