The Steps

The lack of calories were finally kicking in. All week Jenny had been proud she had made it a whole week without food, but it seemed her come-uppance was a real kicker. This combined with her mother texting every half hour with place card questions, on top of not seeing Kevin all day had put her over the edge.

They should have eloped.

"Why are we doing this?"

"What?" His startled blue eyes put a hitch in her grumbling thoughts. She knew there were blue eyes, but what did you call really blue eyes?

"Honey?"

"This," Jenny swallowed and tightened her grip around his hand, wondering how long it would take him to get tired of holding his arm up and supporting hers.

"I thought you…" Kevin turned to look at her.

"Mr. Ryan, keep your focus over her left shoulder!"

He flinched guiltily under her and Jenny couldn't help a stutter of laughter at the small jump her fiancée gave at the barked reprimand. Was it pathetic that she loved he would jump at an old lady well into her sixties?

"We're taking these lessons for our wedding dance," he muttered. "Does she really think I'm going to be able to take my eyes off you?"

She could feel herself blushing, a little taken aback at the offhand way her fiancée said it: as if the whole world should already know the answer.

Her height left her at quite a disadvantage so she had to shake off his hand before she could take his chin in her hand and assure him the feeling was mutual. Unfortunately, it wasn't the surprise it would have been if she were taller and could have taken his mouth by force, but there was something equally satisfying about him looking down at her in puzzlement and then watching the happy realization and anticipation dawn in his eyes as she moved in on him again.

She barely had time to let herself sink into him and repossess his mouth after a day apart, her heeled dancing shoes lending her a delicious angle, before the moment ended.

"Ms. O'Malley!" this time she was the one that jumped.

"Not for long," she breathed, releasing her hold on Kevin's, now flushed, neck. Dancing wasn't so bad.

"You're going to have to stop that," he groaned and the squeeze in her stomach all day migrated south into a longing.

"What?" she teased.

"Breathing down my neck like that."
"I kind of like it," she giggled.

She wasn't sure if it was the lack of calories that had her lightheaded, or if he had just managed to put her over. She did not giggle sober without a heavy helping hand. Yet she was.

Three days. She could stand her mother that long. The angle of Kevin's jaw drew her eyes along it to his sensitive ears, up into his hair and lead her to his knitted eyebrows. He was trying so hard, even if he was useless at hiding things from her.

Three days. She could do three days if she got them out of here and got them a pizza. They were both going to need all the calories possible. Her wedding night was not going to be spent passed out from hunger.

He chose not to answer his fiancée's offer, instead carefully stepping forward to continue their slow waltz across the room.

Kevin Ryan had no idea what the music was, never really one for the older songs their teacher preferred. It was both relaxing and irritating at the same time; it was so smooth where he was decidedly not. Challenge accepted. Regardless of his fiancée's feelings on the matter he was going to floor everyone – on the floor. And not a drunken jig like last time either.

He entered the first turn, careful of his feet, puffing out a breath of air and snapping his head back up- he was really going to have to remember that. It was Esposito who had told him that looking at your feet was probably the most annoying thing to dance instructors.

Head up, head up.

Don't stand on her feet.

Don't freak there's only three days to get this right. Less than three days now actually. Sunday.

"Kevin?"

"Yeah, honey?" despite all the things he was worrying about, she made him smile, although it felt a little twisted on his face as he tried to multitask.

"Why do you smell like toothpaste?"

His lead faltered but they somehow managed to avoid a full trip when he paused too long with his leg between hers. "Because I brushed my teeth."

"I know, you tasted minty."

Was he blushing? Oh crap, he was so busted. What was she going to do when she found out? He couldn't sleep on the couch without waking up as crumpled as Rumplestiltskin.

"You know limes are very acidic," he floundered. "So drinking that juice all the time without brushing just didn't seem like a good idea," he offered, flustered. Oh man, he was so bad at this kind of thing.

Jenny just smiled and bumped her lips against his shoulder, "I love you."

It served to throw him further off his game and he was so obviously flustered he wanted to bench himself. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was a detective; he was so transparent. Jenny was still smiling like she already knew about his secret indiscretion.

"It's a well known fact that limes are acidic," he justified weakly. "Police don't have the best dental plans." Try not to blink. Act casual. Balance your eye-contact, don't stare her down but don't look away, that means you're guilty.

"If you say so," she agreed, amusement twinkling behind her eyes.

"Mr. Ryan," the old woman sighed in exasperation from off their shoulder.

"Ma'am," he sucked down air.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all," he shook his head a little too enthusiastically.

"Did Ms. O'Mally distract you with the quarter?"

"A quarter?" he twitched guiltily, images of steak and hamburgers going through his mind. Quarter-pounder…

"The quarter turn?" the instructor prompted patiently.

"Oh," he smiled nervously. "No, she's perfect."

"Delightful to hear, dearie. Now shall we try again? Hands…that's right. Now if the young lady could just…perfect. Now you don't need to be so close, we're not trying a tango and we wouldn't want you get anything on your lovely dress, would we?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Had a little accident at lunchtime today, did we?" a blunt finger scratched lightly at his shirt where he was horrified to see a fairly conspicuous stain of soy sauce. He must have done it when he was bolting down the food in the car. He tried to swallow and shot his attention between the stain and Jenny's face fast enough his stomach quivered in protest.

"Not to worry, love," their dance instructor continued kindly. "A good soak and that'll come right out."

Jenny just smiled back at her answering easily as his stomach continued to put vertigo through its paces, "I'll do my best to get it off for him."