TITLE: Strangers

PAIRING: Lassiet

CHARACTERS: Carlton Lassiter, Juliet O'Hara, Chief Vick

GENRE: Romance, Angst

RATING: M

CHALLENGES: 025. "Strangers"

WORD COUNT: not a lot

WARNINGS: some sex

SPOILERS: none

DISCLAIMER: none

She was quickly dressing and he was still wrapped up to the waist in the pale, thread worn teal bed sheet, propping himself up on his elbows. He watched her for a moment, his breathing still laboured, though now it was partially from panic. He really had no clue what to say now, so he looked away and busied himself with a few files he had knocked off the nightstand in his earlier haste. Now he felt clumsy and awkward, like some fumbling teenager who had just had his first time.

Oh, god—did she think he was like some fumbling teenager who had just had his first time?!

He glanced back up at her—she was zipping up the back of her skirt—and he has no idea what to do. Along her scalpline were still small jewels of sweat and his heart raced slightly. He was the reason she looked flushed.

Her hair had come unpinned at some point, the loose curls making kisses down her shoulders and neck, spilling down her back. His hands had covered her skin and her hair had covered his hands. She'd felt so good in his arms and they way they'd worked together had been a testament to their partner intuition…

But now she was slipping on her pumps and leaving his bedroom without even saying the obvious—he knew she thought that it was a mistake—and he sighed.

Juliet tried to dress as quickly as she could, trying not to look at him as he stared at her. It was embarrassing enough to know that she'd broken one of her own personal rules, but that she'd now put her partnership in jeopardy. She glanced back at him as he leaned off the bed to pick some files off the floor; he looked so boyish and awkward and she knew what he was thinking.

'It was a mistake.'

His lower lip was a little pink and swollen, a single crease of dark red where the skin had split. She must have done it. She had always been a bit of a biter. But she quickly looked away from him, finishing the last of the buttons on her shirt. It appeared earlier in the afternoon he'd turned torn off one of the small pearly white buttons and while that had been devastatingly sexy at the time, it was now an inconvenience.

She left his apartment without a word.

He forced open the door to the new office he and O'Hara shared, feeling so nervous that his stomach was churning. It was the morning after yesterday afternoon, which simultaneously felt like it had happened both in a dream and only minutes ago. In his hands he clutched a bouquet of flowers he'd picked up at the farmers market after he'd had breakfast. The decision between light blue and light pink had cost him forty-five minutes because it ate up the leeway that usually helped him avoid the early morning rush.

He wasn't there to give some soppy declaration of love, romantic poetic trash, but an apology to let her know he knew it was his fault for involving her in yesterday's illicit, unprofessional affair.

He took a deep breath, holding the flowers stiffly. "I thought…I thought…perhaps."

O'Hara's eyes darted between him and the flowers, him and the flowers, him and the flowers—

'Oh. She doesn't like them.'

He didn't give her a chance to talk, simply blurted out,

"Never mind!"

and hurled the bouquet at the trashcan before he stormed out. He hated emotions, he hated attractive partners that understood him, he hated blue flowers that meant 'I'm sorry'—

She and Carlton had gained their own office, mainly so they could lock Shawn and Gus out when they needed to avoid irritating shenanigans. While it had originally been the minute sanctum devoted entirely to their intellect, she could now see it was going to be hell to work alone with him behind closed doors. No doubt the small room would be filled with awkward tension…

He had arrived late and she glanced up when he opened the door—she could always tell it was him because of the way his footfall sounded on the tile outside the office… He was holding a bouquet of soft blue flowers, the hand wrapped kind that could usually be found at the farmer's market.

Before she realised it, he was storming out of their office. Had he said something? Juliet stared at the empty doorway, somewhat stunned before kneeling slightly to retrieve the bouquet out of the bin, smiling fondly at the broken and damage flowers.

"Okay, so he doesn't think I'm a whore," she declared aloud when she finally found her voice.

"Who doesn't think you're a whore?"

She looked up to see Chief Vick standing there, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"No one," she lied quickly.

Vick seemed satisfied with the answer. "Was Carlton here? I thought I just saw him."

"I think he had to go take care of something."

They were sitting alone in his newly fixed cruiser on stake out and for the first time in all their work together, they were absolutely silent. Normally they would talk about something, anything, but right now, both were playing an uncomfortable waiting game. She knew whomever talked first would be conceding and there was no way that would be her partner.

"Those flowers you got me—" she started.

"It meant nothing."

She was patient with him, knowing his outbursts were coming from a place of fear. "I didn't have a vase, so, I…I took an early lunch break and took them home." When he didn't say anything more, she felt it safe to continue. "I had the prettiest blue vase and I put them in my bedroom. On my nightstand."

"You bedroom," he echoed.

"The sunlight from my window really makes the gerbera daisies stand out. Maybe you'd…like to see them? I had some floral wire and I fixed the broken stalks."

A hint of guilt crossed his face. "The flowers were damaged?"

"I got a little excited," she lied and he smirked.

She was shy in her approach as she made her repeated suggestion. "If you want, we could go see them now."

"We're on a stakeout, O'Hara," he said coolly, the man married to his work.

She smiled sheepishly. "I had Shawn make something up."

"You what?"

"Well, I wanted to get you alone so I could talk to you. I was worried that you didn't like me," she confessed, feeling like a conniving high school girl who ha a crush.

He looked at her over the top of his shades. "Didn't like you? What are you talking about?"

At this she found herself somewhat embarrassed. "When we finished…doing it—"

His nose wrinkled. "Doing it? What are you, a fourteen year old?"

"Okay, making love."

He flinched at the words and she let out a nervous giggle before continuing. "When we were done, you didn't, I thought…"

She couldn't make the words come out of her mouth and he gave an exasperated sigh. "Come on, O'Hara. I haven't got all day."

"Why wouldn't you cuddle with me?!" she blurted out. "Or, you know, just try to hold me close."

"I had no idea you'd…" he paused thoughtfully. "It's not something I do. I don't mind sleeping close, but honestly! What a waste of time, lying around doing nothing." He faltered when he saw her face fall. "Uh, though I suppose if you were staying over for the night, it couldn't hurt."

"And I suppose it couldn't hurt if I didn't need more than a couple of minutes," she suggested.

They were quiet again, looking at each other before he gave her something that looked like a sad smile. "I would have, had I known. I like being close to you."

"I like being close to you, too." Juliet looked back out the window, forgetting for a moment that they weren't really on a stakeout, but her hand found his and she held it tightly. "You don't have to be a stranger, Carlton. I'm your partner."