A/N: Oh god, I think I just sent myself into a diabetic coma from all the sugar in this chapter. I pity all who read it . . . keep your insulin handy. In other words...

Caution: there is absolutely no plot in this chapter. It's all fluff. You've been warned!

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"Alex?" Bobby said a few hours later as he lay stretched out on her bed.

She reluctantly took her head off his stomach - which she had declared sometime last week to be "my favorite pillow" - and squirmed up his body so she could see his face. "Hmm?"

"I forgot to tell you that you owe me at least a six-pack."

"Huh?"

He laid one arm across her lower back, holding her hips to his. "After all the effort I had to put in today to save your buddy's ass, you owe me more than just the one beer you promised."

"Uh, Bobby . . ." She put a hand on his chest and pushed herself up so she could see over his head to the clock on her nightstand, then lowered her eyes back to his. "I'm sorry, but I'm not taking you out to buy a six-pack at one o'clock in the morning, no matter how big a favor you did for me."

"Silly girl," he teased as he slid a hand into her hair and pulled her head down towards his. "I didn't mean now. Come to think of it, I don't even know where half my clothes ended up, so it wouldn't work out too well even if I had meant 'now'."

"Deakins would probably frown on two of his detectives getting collared for public indecency," she said with a grin before submitting willingly to the kiss he was pulling her in for.

When he released her a minute later, he said contemplatively, "I think your bra is hanging off one of the lamp shades in the living room."

"Is the lamp turned off?"

"Uh, I think so."

"Then we're fine. I was never big on burning my bras."

"I don't know," he said, moving his mouth to her neck. "I think I could get used to you walking around without one."

She shivered and twisted her head, trying halfheartedly to dislodge him. "Yeah, but would you want the rest of the world to get used to it, too?"

The name "Mike Logan" popped into his head and he shook his head vehemently. "You've got a point there."

"You know, speaking of Mike - what?" she broke off, catching the surprised look on his face. "You're not the only one around here who can read people. The expression you just had on your face is pretty much exclusively reserved for when you're doing the 'possessive boyfriend' thing, and I only know of one person who's triggered that response in you . . ."

He blinked. "I'm that obvious?"

"Don't worry, it's only obvious to someone who's spent eight or more hours a day alone with you for at least five years. But as I was about to say before you interrupted, did you find Logan and Barek's behavior toward each other as interesting as I did?"

"Umm . . ." She wanted him to psychoanalyze Logan and Barek while he was busy trying to figure out if she'd just referred to him as her 'boyfriend' or whether it had just been a handy cliche?

"Bobby?" She waved her hand over his face. "Earth to Goren."

He couldn't get past the 'boyfriend' comment. Moving quickly, he snatched her hand out of the air and kissed it, then laid it on his chest. "I think we need to talk."

Alex froze on top of him. "Talk . . . about what, exactly? What's wrong?" She'd thought they were just carrying on a casual conversation about their co-workers - what had she said to spark this reaction in him? When he didn't answer her question, she moved to slide off of him, but found herself stopped by his hands on her waist. "Bobby?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, scare you." He sighed. "It's not important. Forget I said anything."

"You already said it; you can't take it back now." She crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them, watching his face. "Tell me."

"It's noth-"

"Bobby!"

"I just got caught up in a figure of speech you used. It's nothing you need to worry about, really."

"A figure of speech?" She sorted through her short-term memory for whatever figures of speech that she'd used in the past few minutes. "Burning my bra?"

He shook his head. "We're not playing twenty questions, Alex. I promise you it's not something you need to dissect."

"You're lying and you're bad at it," she snapped. "Is whatever it is that terrible, that you can't tell me?"

"It's not terrible, just . . . childish."

"Being childish is part of your charm," she said, leaning down to give him a light kiss. "So spill it."

He rolled them over until he was on his side and she was on her back, looking up at him. Propping his head on one fist, he studied her face as he said, "You said I do a 'possessive boyfriend thing'."

She lowered her eyebrows, studying him in return. "Uh-huh. Which part of that are you objecting to? The possessiveness, or the boyfriendness?"

"I'm not objecting. I'm just . . . curious."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Well it's just . . ." He wrinkled his nose, displaying his embarrassment. "It's a stupid thing to ask, I know, but . . . am I your 'boyfriend'?"

She sighed and looked away from him, staring up at the ceiling. "Whatever that means. If you're asking if you're the only man I'm seeing, then you're stupid for not already knowing the answer. I don't bed-hop."

"I wasn't accusing you of bed-hopping," he said mildly. "I guess what I'm saying is . . . I, uh . . . don't know how to categorize what we have together."

"And it has to be categorized?"

He shrugged. "No, but it's more comfortable for me if it is."

"Give me an example of what a category would be. I'm not avoiding the question," she said, laying a hand on his cheek before he could interrupt, "but I'm not sure what kind of answer you're looking for."

He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not either."

That earned him an exasperated smile. "Well, then how am I supposed to know how to comfort you?"

"Do I need to be comforted?"

"Can you not answer my questions with more questions?" she said archly.

"Sorry. I guess I was hoping you had . . . a clearer idea of what this is than I've got. Because . . . I don't know, because you're a woman, I guess."

"Look," she said gently. "I'm not any better at this than you, but . . . if you need a word for it, I guess 'boyfriend' is as good as any. You're the only man I can lie in bed with and talk to like this. You're the only man I want tolie in bed with and talk to like this."

"Talk to like what?" he asked, relaxing slightly and raising his eyebrows in question.

She grinned and moved closer until she was pressed against his side. "Lying in bed with someone, naked, with our clothes scattered all over the apartment - that all I've done before. Lying in bed, having an awkward, serious conversation - done that. But lying in bed with you, naked, with our clothes scattered all over the apartment . . . and having a serious discussion without feeling uncomfortable - that's new."

"I make you feel comfortable?" he asked tentatively.

"You," she said, moving back to her original position on top of him and straddling his thighs, "make me feel . . . safe. Comfortable. Trusted, and trustworthy. Loved." Trailing her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, she kissed his chin and then his lips. "You make me feel happy."

He was quiet for a long moment before saying, "Alex?"

"Hmm?" she responded absently, trailing her lips along his jaw.

"I make you feel loved?"

"Mm-hmm." Her tongue flicked out, tasting the skin where his neck met his shoulder, while one of her hands began a journey downward from his collarbone.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "Alex?"

"What?" she mumbled peevishly into his skin, wondering why he kept interrupting her explorations.

"I love you."

She stilled on top of him, her forehead pressed against his chest, but didn't speak.

He waited for her to say something, anything, but her silence just continued. "Alex?" he tried again, pushing against her shoulders, trying to urge her to sit up so he could see her face.

"Yeah," she said quietly, resisting the pressure he was applying to her shoulders. "Uh, you caught me by surprise."

"Oh." He needed to see her eyes. He let his hands drop and, knowing she would have to move eventually, tried to wait patiently. "I'm sorry. It slipped out . . ."

She moved up his body until she could bury her face in the crook of his neck, which she did, still not looking up. "Don't apologize."

"Sor-"

She laid a finger over his lips. "I said, don't apologize."

"You're upset," he said tightly. "What am I supposed to do, if not apologize?"

"I'm not upset."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

She took a deep breath, then let it out against his neck, giving him goosebumps that he didn't bother to suppress. "Just . . . give me a minute."

"Look, I shouldn't have started this conversation tonight. We're both tired. Can we just . . . forget it?"

She began to lift her head slowly, as if she was expecting it to be pushed down again. Her hair tickled his cheek, but he was too busy concentrating on what he saw to register the sensation. Her face was carefully blank when it came into view, and he only just restrained himself from apologizing again.

When her face stayed neutral and her mouth stayed closed, he sighed. "Alex . . ."

Her detached expression melted into a weak smile. "I know you love me. It was just really weird to hear it out loud."

He stared at her, unsure what to say to that. "It was . . . weird?"

Her smile widened. "Yeah. Do you want me to say it back?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to say it back? It sounds so contrived," she said with a shrug. "Once one person says it, then the other person has to recite the same line and it sounds silly."

"You . . . uh, you don't have to say anything you don't want to," he said hesitantly, unsure of what she was trying to express.

"Oh, fine," she said with an indulgent grin. "I love you, too. See, doesn't that seem redundant?"

"No."

"Romantic," she accused teasingly, leaning down to kiss him. When he didn't respond to the touch of her lips, she pulled back and took a closer look at his strained face. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm . . . not sure what to think. I wasn't trying to coerce you when I . . ."

"Bobby." She leaned down again, holding his face in her hands. "I didn't feel coerced. You just surprised me, and I was trying to think of how to respond. I mean, think about it - how odd does it feel to say, 'I love you' if you stop to think before saying it?"

He shook his head and tried to shift her off of him. "I don't know. Can we just . . . go to sleep?"

"No, we can't! Look at me, Bobby," she ordered. She wasn't getting through to him. What could she say that he would understand? She searched her mind, managing after a few seconds to come up with an argument in his language: "Now, tell me what my biggest defense mechanism is when I'm emotional or unsure of myself."

He blinked. "Your what? Uh . . ."

"Come on, Goren, you had me pegged the second week we were partnered. This is a no-brainer!" She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Sarcasm."

"Exactly. Now replay the last five minutes of this conversation in your mind. I'll wait." True to her word, she removed her hands from his face, rested her elbows on his chest, and just watched him.

"Alex?" he said after a few seconds.

"What?"

"This has got to be one of the least romantic 'I love you' conversations ever."

She bit back a smile and shrugged. "We wouldn't be us if we actually followed the rules. So, do you believe me now?"

He reached up and curled a hand around the back of her neck, drawing her face down to his. "Yes," he whispered against her lips. "Now, what was it you were doing before I went and interrupted you with my revelation?"

"Hmm," she murmured, giving him a seductive smile before moving her mouth down to the center of his chest. "I think I was . . . right about here."