Disclaimer- Oh how we wish they belonged to us, but as much as we love Allan and Tim, they are selfish and won't give them to us. I mean honestly, we even tried begging.

Authors' Note- Thank you all for reviewing so promptly. Reviews in the inbox make the Goddess smile and garretelliot do the Snoppy dance (you know how little self control GE has).

Garret's POV

I scan the chess board, contemplating my next move. For once we're having a quiet day, a quiet three days actually. Three admits Tuesday, four yesterday and only two today. Even the night shift has been quiet; very few crimes that resulted in deaths have been committed in Boston in the past three days and only five accidental deaths that required the Coroner's office to become involved. So Jordan and I sit here marking time until the graveyard shift gets here, simply being a presence as the regs require. Everyone else had left around lunchtime with the understanding that they were on call until the next shift arrived.

For some reason, I suggested a game of chess. I don't normally play, but today I need a distraction when I'm around Jordan. Ever since yesterday I've been having the most bizarre thoughts about her. I suppose thinking about kissing a beautiful woman wouldn't be considered bizarre by most people, but Jo is my best friend, my buddy. I've never thought of her this way, but yesterday afternoon we were talking over a case and she ran her hand through her hair. Nothing strange about that, but my reaction was completely out of nowhere. I suddenly wondered what it would feel like to run my hands through her hair.

I was pretty amazed that the thought crossed my mind, but last night was even weirder. I dreamed about her, about making love to her. I woke up from a sound sleep, heart pounding. There's nothing more disconcerting than to wake up from a dream of making love to your best friend. Disconcerting, but a nice dream. Jordan felt very right, very good in my arms in that dream. Her skin glowing in the moonlight, her hair draped like strands of raw silk across my chest...

Okay Garret, snap out of it. This is Jordan, fool, not someone you sleep with. This is your best friend, the one who's always been there for you. The last thing she needs right now is to get the idea you're interested. This is just the dance Friday night and being alone too long. She's got enough on her plate, dealing with the aftereffects of Woody. This is not the time to have a psychotic break and start fantasizing about her. My friend, you seriously need to get laid soon, this is getting out of control.

Jordan stares at the clock and rolls her eyes, sighing as though she can't stand the wait. Finally I move my bishop and she leans over to make her move, nearly falling. I grab her as she starts to head for the floor, pulling her back against my chest. I love her, but she can be a complete klutz sometimes. She moves her rook and settles back against me in no hurry to move. Normally this wouldn't even faze me, but today I can't get her out of my mind.

As loudly as the rational side of my brain is yelling for me to sit her upright or get up to pour another drink as an excuse to dislodge her from my lap, I can't. Testosterone is screaming at me to hold on to her, grab her tighter and kiss her. Sweep the desk clean, lay her across it and... That's it, enough!

I force my body not to respond to the demands of eons of biological imperative and keep my touch light and casual, but I don't move my arm. No power in Heaven or Hell could make me move that arm away from her waist right now.

Jordan reaches for the glass on the table and takes a sip. I glare at her and tell her if she wants some, she could get up and pour it. I'm amazed that my voice sounds so normal, so completely like any other time I speak to her. To hear my voice you'd never believe that I'm feverishly pursuing the thought of Jordan and the desk, or maybe the couch we're sitting on.

What I believed to be random thoughts are rapidly becoming full blown fantasies about my friend. Maybe I should give Howard Stiles a call and talk this out. As I contemplate the ribbing I'll have to take from Howard should I make such a call and reach forward to put the glass down, Jordan shifts under my arm. I look down to see what's wrong and her lips are on mine, soft and questioning as though she's searching for something. I can't think; hell I can barely breathe.

She pulls back and for almost a minute we sit looking at each other. My brain is still trying to process the fact that Jordan Cavanaugh kissed me, when that old biological imperative kicks in and I pull her close and press my lips to hers. One hand cradling the back of her head, fingers tangled in the silky curls. My other hand holds her close against me as I trace the line of her lips with the tip of my tongue. I can feel my heart beating like a bass drum as she sighs and flexes her fingers, digging into the muscles of my back.

She tastes sweet and smoky, a mixture of spring rain and good scotch, as her lips part, offering her mouth completely. Just as I take the invitation, I hear the elevator doors open; night shift has arrived. We spring apart as though burned and sit on opposite ends of the couch, barely looking at each other.

A/N- Hooray for unexpected kisses. I just love Garret when he's being introspective in my mind and yeah, I think the idea of the desk sounds a little uncomfortable but very sexy.