A/N: I really wanted to get this one started and up and out there... With all the angst out and about, I offered fluff and my offer was accepted. So here is my perhaps vain attempt at fluff, laced with humor and sexual tension. This one's for you, E. Helena. Hope you enjoy it.

Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative.
--H.G. Wells

Jimmy Deakins looked out across the squad room. It had been almost six months, and he still thought about how good it was to have Eames back. He'd begun to worry about her partner toward the end of her leave. Bishop had tried to fill her shoes, but she fell far short of the mark. He wasn't surprised. Without Eames, Goren floundered, flirting with the edge of an abyss she kept him from falling into. Bishop simply could not live up to that role. And she had no tolerance for his sometimes erratic behavior. Where Eames would laugh and draw him back to reality, Bishop was the one to draw away, uncertain and uncomfortable. With Eames he felt accepted and appreciated. With Bishop, he felt alienated, a freak in a world of normal men. Bishop had treated him like the others who did not understand him, something Eames never did. What he didn't understand, though, was why Goren still seemed edgy. He was uncertain, unable to find his way with her any more. It was like something had changed and he had no idea how to handle it, and Deakins wasn't sure there was anything he could do to help them. Initially, Bobby had been thrilled she was back. He remembered the pure joy on the man's face when she returned to the squad room. But that happiness had soon given way to uncertainty, and he had no idea what had happened. He felt certain they would work it out; they always did. But sooner was better than later. Edginess made Goren even more unpredictable than usual, and that made him unsettled. And Jimmy Deakins hated feeling unsettled.

When the phone rang, he turned back toward his desk and grabbed it. "Deakins." He listened carefully to the man on the other end of the line, jotting something on a piece of paper. "Yes, I have a team who can handle the job. Yes, sir. I'll keep you posted."

He leaned against the desk as he set the phone in its cradle. Maybe this was just what the doctor ordered, something that would once more set Goren at his ease with his partner. Perhaps they'd be able to reconnect with this assignment. They always seemed to like these undercover jobs.

He walked to the door and called to them. When they came into the office and Goren shut the door, he said, "Do you like camping?"

"Excuse me?" Eames asked.

"Camping. Do you like it?"

She looked at her partner, who shrugged. She turned back to Deakins. "Well...yes. Why?"

Deakins looked at Goren. "What about you, Bobby?"

He nodded. "I like camping."

"Good. Ever been to Lake George?"

Eames nodded. "A couple of times, when we were growing up."

When Deakins looked at him, Goren just nodded, offering nothing more. The captain tore a piece of paper from his pad and handed it to Eames. "The camping season just got off the ground, and they've had three attacks at a campground at Lake George. Two couples and a pair of brothers. No fatalities, but nothing much from the victims to go on. So I want you guys undercover to put a stop to this monkey. Lake George is a huge tourist destination and the governor wants this taken care of post haste. He called us because we have a reputation for handling difficult, high-profile cases quickly and efficiently. So get your gear and go be quick and efficient. Bring me back a pine cone or something...and a perp."

Goren swallowed hard as they left the office. Oh, God...camping...with Eames... How the hell was he going to handle that? He was barely able to handle working with her lately. He'd been so glad to have her back after her interminable maternity leave. But a few weeks ago, something changed drastically. He knew she'd worked hard getting back in shape after delivering her nephew, and he'd suddenly become very aware of exactly what that shape was. Now his body was constantly telling his mind that his partner was a woman, as though he'd never realized it before. And the contradiction between the two was driving him nuts.

Eames watched her partner settle at his desk, wondering at the tension that had not been there before. "Is there a problem, Goren?" she asked, suddenly annoyed at his emotional unpredictability.

"Uh, no. Why would you think that?" he muttered as he finished clearing his desk.

She watched him grab his portfolio and start toward the elevators, stopping halfway there when he sensed she wasn't behind him. He turned, a questioning look in his eyes. Standing beside her desk, she motioned him back. "Genius," she said quietly when he returned to her side. "We need to make reservations at the campground."

"Right now? We, uh, need to get camping gear..."

"We can borrow gear from my parents."

"I have some stuff..."

"So what do we need to get?"

"A tent, for one."

"You camp without a tent?"

"Sometimes, but the tent I have is, uh, small."

"One man?"

"Two actually."

She touched her chest and then his, counting. "One...two...Where's the problem?"

He stepped away from her in what he hoped was a casual manner and dropped back into his chair. She was going to be the death of him. Envisioning the dimensions of his tent, and remembering the last time he took a woman camping, he shook his head adamantly. "We need a bigger tent."

She laughed quietly as she sat down and picked up the phone. "Okay, Brody. We'll get a bigger tent."

He breathed a soft sigh of relief, but it was short lived. There was no way she was going to let him get one of those ten-man, three room cabin tents, so he was kind of in the same boat...an unspecified amount of time in a small tent—face it, his size made damn near everything small—with his partner. And the boat was sinking fast...

"So, exactly what equipment do you have?"

He faltered at the question, silently grateful she was busy examining the shelves of plates and cookware and didn't notice. "I, uh, I have two pots, a frying pan and a coffee pot. Um, two sets of plates and utensils..." He closed his eyes to imagine the contents of the three boxes in the basement storage cage. "Two sleeping bags, mats, blankets and pillows."

Silence. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him. "What?"

"Do much camping for two?"

"Not lately."

She gave him an odd look and headed for the next aisle. "What's wrong? Eames?"

"Nothing's wrong," she assured him as he caught up to her. She studied the shelves of flashlights and lanterns. "No lanterns?"

"Uh, no."

She shifted her gaze back to him, a sly, amused smile teasing her lips. "Why not?"

His tongue tried to moisten his lips but he suddenly found his mouth dry. "Look, Eames, let's just get what you want and get out of here."

She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his attention there with the movement. He forced his eyes away, hoping she didn't notice, and began examining the camping lanterns. She watched him, keeping her smile away from her face. "No, Bobby. I want to know how you manage camping with no light."

"There's usually a campfire...and a moon sometimes."

"And you take a campfire to bed?"

"Why would I have to do that? I don't need a light to undress."

"Tell me you, of all people, don't read at bedtime."

"Not usually when I'm camping, Eames."

No, when he went camping he usually had other distractions that kept his mind away from books. Her smile was fighting against her will. This was too much fun. "Why not?"

Now he was embarrassed. "Can we just get what we need and get going? We're going to need an early start if we want to make that one o'clock reservation you made for tomorrow."

"Then I'll let you drive."

He looked at her, surprised. "You hate my driving."

"I hate your avoidance more."

"I'm not avoiding anything. You know damn well what I'm talking about, and I don't want to discuss it in the middle of a crowded store."

"No, you just don't want to discuss it with me."

"Well, that, too. Look, if you want to swap war stories, fine. But you go first."

She gave him a wicked smile and started to move past him. Hesitating beside him, she laid a hand on his arm, leaned in and whispered, "My last boyfriend liked to do it in the bathtub. Get a lantern, Bobby."

He closed his eyes and leaned against the shelf. Was she really trying to kill him? It took a few minutes for him to recover, and even at that he cursed at his mind, which was now merrily jaunting down the lane after his damn body. I am in so much trouble...

He looked around, readjusted his pants and wished like hell he was wearing jeans. He grabbed two battery-powered lanterns and almost reluctantly went in search of his partner. Evil woman...

He found her looking at tents...small two-man dome tents. "Are you sure you don't want a bigger tent?"

She looked at him. "Why?"

"Face it, Eames. I'm not a small guy."

"And I'm not a large woman. We complement each other well. We don't need a big tent."

His mind scrambled for another argument. Springtime could be unpredictably wet, and while he liked sleeping outside without a tent, he preferred not to in the rain. "Are you a quiet sleeper?"

"Are you asking if I talk in my sleep?"

"No. I'm asking if you travel in your sleep. You know, are you restless?"

"How should I know? Are you?"

"Uh, only when I have nightmares." He was uncertain about divulging that was a nightly occurrance. "No one ever told you that you're a restless sleeper?"

"No. Do you expect me to be?"

"That's a prediction I can't make, Eames."

"You've seen me sleep."

"Not in a bed."

"We won't be in a bed now."

He sighed. Was she being this way intentionally? "Can we just get a bigger tent, please?"

"What size did you have in mind?"

That one over there, the one that's about the size of my apartment, would be nice... But he was certain she'd be offended by that choice. So he suggested a four-man dome tent, and she went along with it readily, to his great relief.

After another hour of discomfort for him and amusement for her, they finished in the sporting goods store and headed for his apartment.