A/N: This is for Jill88 who's had me on a serious Babyface binge all week and odalys-ortiz who cracked me up.

As always, enjoy x

Three weeks later, Saturday 4th October, 7.02pm, Joss' apartment

Once Joss knew she couldn't stop the falling, and fighting it just drained her, they lived in a wordless, title-less space and for the moment it was alright with her. Sometimes it felt like being suspended in air, just hanging there, with the blood rushing to her feet. Or her head. The head-spinning confusion and overpowering euphoria of falling in love with John. It was like learning a new language; the tones and inflections, the inside jokes and hidden meanings of an idiomatic love that didn't make sense any other way. And it was refreshing to talk to someone who understood things most people in the world couldn't understand. Well, except why he couldn't get her hair wet. So in the spirit of making headway, her first thought after finding some dusty Thai takeout menus under the couch was to invite him over.

She didn't know whether it was the soccer game his team lost in a penalty shootout that morning, or some other adolescent mood swing, but Taylor was less than enthused even though Pad Thai was involved.

"Dad said he wants to talk to you."

"I know." The truth was, she'd been ignoring his calls lately because she and John had been getting closer. She had no intention of cutting short John's story of how he went from a Catholic orphanage to a Group Home for Boys to the military in order to text Paul back. Whatever it was could wait. "How's the Backstage team?" She asked, sorting through their order.

"It's okay. It's just lighting, no big deal."

"It's just you've never shown interest in Performing Arts 'til now." He looked away. "And whoever she is, I hope she's worth all this time you've spent at rehearsal."

He thought he'd covered his tracks better than that. "How do you know that?"

"'Cause you've been acting mannish lately. Why else?" She halted his protest before it had begun. "I think they messed up our order; we got yellow panang instead of Thai green. Not that John'll care; he'd eat a horse if it came with steak sauce."

"Ma, I don't have to be here…on your date."

"It's not a date. It's dinner, for all of us. You're not the third wheel, I promise." He eyed the digital clock on the counter for a while. "What is it?"

"ResQ's playing at Terminal 5 tonight. I wanna go."

"Hell's Kitchen? They just had a shooting over there two days ago."

He hated how she always had a crime-related headline on standby. "Think of it as Hell's Kitchen Adjacent."

She laughed at his efforts. "And she'll be there? The viola player?"

He caught himself before he corrected her with the flute. "Maybe."

"Psssssssh."

"Okay, she's going with her cousin."

"What time does it start?"

"8.30."

"Fine. You can go. Later. She better be smart and pretty. Emphasis on smart."

He smiled, she must have inherited her fishing skills from his grandma and refined them on the job. "Dad still thinks John works for the government." She blinked, finally silent. "But I think that's ridiculous."

She cleared his throat. "What makes you say that?"

"I've seen him fight. And there's no way the government trains people like that."

"Sometimes I forget what you saw."

"I haven't."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No. But I guess it makes him okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah. And I think he's a Private Investigator. You want me to set the table?"

She was stunned by how close he was. "Sure."

8.54pm, Joss' apartment

"A P.I.?" John hadn't had many reasons to laugh all week but even in his absence, Taylor cracked him up.

"Yeah. I don't know whether to be scared or proud." She thought about it again. "I'm pretty proud."

He finished off another Cognac and coke. "You think that's how Finch got started?"

"I think Finch is a special case all around and you've got as good a chance of figuring him out as finding where I kept Elias last year."

"Don't remind me. So what does Joss usually do on a Saturday?"

"Well, when I'm not working, or caping with you, I usually hit the gym and the gun range, Janelle does my hair, -and then I catch up Barefoot Contessa or something."

"No girlfriends?"

"A couple sorors in D.C. Truth is, it's hard to be friends with someone and hide so much from them."

8.56pm, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York

Never one to be out of the loop, Finch was listening in on their conversation. As long as they didn't know, he could satiate his curiosity and live vicariously through the burgeoning relationship. Shaw was just there for the snacks. "So this is what counts for Saturday night, huh?" Fusco asked loudly, busting them.

"How'd you get in here?" Shaw asked, swinging round in her computer chair.

"Keys." He joked.

Shaw was outraged. "So you mean to tell me that Curly Fries has keys and I don't?"

"If needed I always assumed you'd just…pick the lock. You have surprising light feet, Detective."

Joss' laughter echoed from one of the many laptop screens. "Hey, creeps, what're you doing? Is that Carter?" Finch slammed the laptop shut, cutting off the sound. "Someone needs a new hobby."

"What can we do for you today, Detective?"

"First of all, give my partner some privacy. Second, tell me why Elias is back on the scene with his new goons and no-one told me."

For once, Shaw didn't have a snappy comeback. Instead she just chewed on a stick of beef jerky and waited expectantly for Finch to say something.

9.21pm, Joss' apartment

The Jerk was playing on TV because they agreed that Steve Martin was the best comedic actor of all time. Her Ipod was playing songs at random so Christie and Stevie of Fleetwood Mac were asking for sweet little lies. Another story, another Cognac and coke.

"…So you had sex in a broom closet at school?" She asked twice for confirmation.

"At that age, I wouldn't call it sex." She tried not to laugh which was hard to do, lying on a couch barely big enough for two. "So what convent did they send you to, Miss I-don't-go-past-second-base?"

"Funny. I went to a school on the base, that's all. Some of us don't need nuns to-" The doorbell interrupted her sentence. "You ordered something?"

"Just the singing telegram."

"Cornball."

Paul was at the door, looking worse for wear. She was not interested as to why, she just wanted him gone. "What're you doing here?"

He wrung his hands together and she knew it wasn't a good sign. "We need to talk."

"About Taylor?"

He could smell the liquor on her breath when she spoke and noticed her earring was missing. "Not exactly."

"Then we'll talk next week. Same spot?" It wasn't a question. It's always the same spot; Tom's Diner in the city.

"It's pretty urgent."

She looked him up and down; no engagement ring. "Paul, I'm busy. And you can't just show up like this. Call first."

He rubbed his mouth with his left hand; he wanted to have the conversation anyway. He could hear K-Ci wailing from her apartment. "Busy with John?"

"Mind your business."

"You can just say it, Joss, we're all adults."

Are we? "Good seeing you, Paul."

Before she could close the door, he asked, "Uhh, where's Taylor?"

John replied for her, "Terminal 5 with his friends."

Only when she looked down at the arm around her stomach did she notice he took his shirt off. Skin. And then she looked up at Paul's face, and saw all the things she used to see before they had a blowout argument; his eyes were slimmer and the vein in his neck was bulging. Just because he never hurt her physically, it didn't mean she never thought he would. But now he and John were eyeballing each other. And their eyes said a lot more than asshole and jackass.

She cleared her throat. "Goodnight Paul, see you on Wednesday."

He swallowed, not taking his eyes off John. "Wednesday."

"And call next time." John replied, before slamming the door shut.

Whether it was shock, adrenaline or just the hilarity of seeing Paul's face disappear like a magic trick, Joss burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles like a schoolgirl. "You shouldn't've done that."

"I know." He graced her forehead with a kiss. "You should've."

"John,"

"He's an asshole."

"Well, I picked him. And we have a son. So, no more door-slamming, I have neighbours. And they don't like noise."

"Really?" He tugged at her deep purple sweater dress.

She should've known. In her estimation, he'd never come across a rule he hadn't broken or bent out of shape. That was why despite her protests that they ate there, he lifted her onto the kitchen island anyway and smothered her neck in deep, biting kisses; walking a very fine line between pain and pleasure. It was the effect he had on her; to make her go with it past where she had been, past where she thought she could go.

"In so many ways I've rubbed off on you, and, you've been loving me long time, and I bet you always will…"

His hands slid her dress up to her waist. "Tell me to stop and I will,"

"Liar. I don't want you to stop."

"Pick a safe word."

"Hmmm…" She thought while Tweet crooned.

"You can't take away and you can't forget, that you been loving me long time…and I bet you always will…"

"Hummingbird." She replied, forcing down his jeans.