Author's Note: Who am I to ignore my reviewer's requests? And, being the fan fic addict I am, I completely understand the giddy joy of seeing a story I've gotten into updated TWICE in one day. Third times the charm? Thanks, everyone, and keep 'em coming. - Erika

Bobby sat down. His large frame folded itself to fit into the chair Alex had tossed her jacket on. He didn't look at her, instead, he studied his nails. His nails held no interest to him whatsoever, but he knew that making eye contact or touching her "stuff" would probably be a stupid move. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"I ... don't mean to be like that. To you." Alex took a deep breath and looked up at him.

"What?" He was stunned, momentarily, and his head jerked up to meet her gaze.

"I trust you. I don't know why I shut you out. It's not rational. Or justified." She shrugged, and looked at the floor.

"Eames." His eyes searched her face, but she kept her eyes down. "You don't have to... apologize for not wanting to share things with me. I know I'm an open book, you don't have to be, as well. We have a ... dynamic, it isn't.. well, it isn't tit for tat."

Her eyes shot up at the reference.

"There's a .. a dynamic, like I said. We have a relationship. Relationships aren't exact measurements. They're complimentary balances." He leaned towards her, meeting her gaze. "I want to know you. But if you're not inviting me in, I'm not going to stick my foot in the door."

"Mm." She nodded slowly, giving herself a moment to digest this new development. "What about you?"

"What about me," He looked annoyed.

"Do you have old girlfriends leaving you voicemail?"

"Women don't seem to have the same lost puppy syndrome 25 year old boys do."

"Ouch."

"But to answer your question... no. My busy day job and the fact that I have an attractive female partner seem to be double whammies when it comes to my sex life." His voice was a bit louder.

"Don't get pissed at me, Goren, I haven't done anything wrong. And for that matter, neither have you." She tried to stare him down, but his eyes narrowed. Finally, she looked away. "I need a shower."

"Make it a cold one," He muttered.

"What?"

"I said I need a cold drink."

"Help yourself." She grabbed a towel and walked down the hall.

After spending a good hour locked in the bathroom, Alex finally emerged wrapped in a towel, her hair blown slightly damp. Bobby had taken her invitation to heart, and had helped himself to half a bottle of tequila she kept in her freezer. When she came out of her bedroom half an hour after that, he was well on his way from drunk to belligerent.

"Would you like some food to go with your liquor?" The voice came from behind him. He was reclined on her sofa, the bottle and the shot glass sitting on her coffee table.

Despite the alcohol, he could still smell her. That honey sweetness was probably her shampoo or a moisturizer, he didn't know and didn't particularly care. The rest of it... her unique scent. The scientist in him explained that her hormones mixed to create a scent that he, as a heterosexual male, would find attractive. Her body was sending out a signal to his, in the hopes of mating and further perpetuating the human species. The drunk in him told the scientist to shut the fuck up.

"I'm not hungry for food," He looked up as she came around the sofa. It was dark in the living room. He hadn't bothered with lights, and the only illumination came from the television set.

"What are you hungry for?" She raised an eyebrow, and sat on the arm of her arm chair.

"Have a drink with me."

"You left some?"

"Ha. Ha." He poured her a shot in the same glass he had been drinking from, and passed it to her.

She lifted the glass, and contemplated it a minute, then, in one shot, it was gone.

"Reminds me of a song." He said.

"What?"

"Nothing. Greek. Crap." He shook his head.

"It's all greek to me, Bobby." She took the bottle and poured herself another shot. She was going to have to catch up quick if she wanted to have any sort of conversation with him.

"Never mind." He leaned forward, and watched her do another shot. "Straight shot, no chaser?"

"Mm. Now that does remind me of a song.." She grinned and went over to her stereo. She popped a cd-r into the tray and hit play. Instantly, Thelonious Monk began to flow from her speakers.

"God damn." Goren shook his head. "We've been drinking the wrong liquor."

"I think tequila will suffice for tonight."

"Eames?" He looked over at her.

"What,"

"When did you become so..."

"So.. what?"

"So amazing?"

She stared blankly at him. "Rephrase that?"

He laughed. "Sorry, I mean, you listen to Monk?"

"How else do you think I manage to stay sane?"

"Well, that's debatable."

"Hey."

He shrugged, and reached for the bottle. She slid the shot glass towards him.

"This is going to get old pretty fast." He indicated the shot glass. "Maybe you should sit over here." He moved over a bit.

"Or get another shot glass." She sat next to him, anyway.

"Toooo late." He grabbed her around the middle and pulled her closer. She squeaked slightly in surprise, then laughed.

"I'd be careful if I were you." She wiggled her fingers.

"Ooh, I'm terrified." He replied, in monotone.

"You should be. I tickled you senseless earlier."

"That's interesting," He looked down at her, "Because I remember pinning you."

"My arms were tired." She shrugged.

"Uh huh. You're not as tough as you think,"

"Try me."

"Why should I? I've more than proved myself." He leaned back, one arm along the back of the sofa. He was completely open and vulnerable.

Eames took the bait. Her hands went for his sides, but he grabbed them. Holding her wrists, one in each hand, he pushed her back, so that he was above her. His face was humorless this time, and he studied her face. He gripped her wrists in one large hand. He held them over her head, and held himself above her with the other.

"Enough games." He leaned in and kissed her roughly.

You guys know the drill... a little R&R never hurt anyone.