A/N: A little interim fluff before we get back to the case...enjoy!
"So," Barek said that night, biting into a breadstick as she and Alex sat at her kitchen table, waiting for the men to return with their dinner, "you think this is going to work? I mean, for someone who lets her boyfriend walk all over her, Claire's a tough nut to crack."
"Yeah," Alex said with a shrug, "but if anyone can crack her, Melinda can. I don't remember the last time I came across someone that intense and determined who actually hadn't committed a crime!"
"Hmm." Barek slid the plate of breadsticks over to the other woman. "Eat some. And don't tell me you don't eat carbs, because I've seen how you devour pizza crust."
Alex grinned. "I wasn't going to say that, anyway. I'm always up for some good bread." She glanced down at her watch, then looked up and picked up a breadstick. "How much longer do you think they'll be?"
"Where'd we send them, again?"
"Calabrese's Pizza, Carolyn. Same as it was five minutes ago when you asked me the same question."
Barek smirked. "You getting a pizza all to yourself again?"
"Nah, that's only for special occasions or long nights." She paused for a second, looking crafty, then smiled. "You going to refuse to share your pizza with Logan again?"
"Now, what kind of partner would I be if I did that?"
Alex blinked. "Uh, you'd be the kind of partner you were two days ago. Come on, there's no way he can kiss enough ass to turn you around in 48 hours." She paused, smirking. "That is, unless he's got some hidden talents you want to tell me about before the boys come back."
"Huh? He . . . I . . ." Unable to think of something non-damaging to say, she grabbed another breadstick and concentrated on eating it.
Alex snickered. "You might as well spill it. You know my dirty secret; it's only fair that I know yours."
"No." She gnawed harder on the breadstick.
"Yes." Alex grabbed another breadstick for herself and stared Carolyn down while the two of them furiously stuffed breadsticks in their mouths. "If you don't tell me," she said through a mouthful of bread a minute later, "Bobby's going to get curious and find out for himself."
"No," Barek repeated, more firmly this time. The effect was ruined by the spray of half-chewed bread crumbs that flew out of her mouth along with the word, and by the time she'd managed to swallow enough to speak, Alex was draped over the back of her chair, laughing.
"Carolyn," Alex said a few seconds later, unable to hide her smirk as she tried to make her words sound semi-serious, "you've got a goddamn hickey on your neck. If it's not from Logan, then you have no excuse for hiding anything and I want to know who it is from!"
It was a neat trap, Barek realized. If it was from her partner - and they both knew it was - then her refusal to name him would be tantamount to naming him anyway. "Would you believe me if I tell you it's from some guy I picked up at a club?"
Alex snorted. "No. And even if I were tempted to believe that, need I remind you that you've spent the past couple nights with me, Bobby, and Logan, and not at some club?"
"Well, I -"
"But," Alex interrupted with a grin, holding up a hand to stop her speaking, "if that does turn out to be true, I want the name of that club!"
Barek gasped in mock-horror. "I'm telling Goren," she said, grinning as she imitated a tattling child's tone. "So there."
"I didn't say I wasn't going to bring Bobby with me."
"Bring me with you to where?" Bobby called from just inside the apartment.
"We leave you alone for half an hour and you're already far enough gone to talk about taking him on vacation or something?" Logan threw in. "Have you girls been drinking?"
"Nah." Alex mock-toasted him with the last breadstick, then broke it in half and gave half to Carolyn. "High on carbs, maybe, but not anything else."
"And she wasn't talking about vacation, anyway," Barek informed him.
"Oookay," Logan replied as he walked into the kitchen, then did an about-face to look at Bobby, who was still standing by the door. We're screwed, he mouthed to the other man, mimicking a gun against his head. Then, turning back toward the women, he gave them a pleasant smile. "Evening, ladies. I believe you ordered a few pizzas?"
Taking his cue, Bobby moved forward to lean against the door jamb and held out the pizza box he'd been carrying.
Barek took the box, then snorted. "That gun thing was completely lacking in subtlety, Mike. You're not supposed to do your complaining in front of the people you're complaining about."
"Hey," Logan snapped, roughly setting his pizza down on the counter, "do I look like I need your advice on this?"
Stung, she turned away from him, staring down at the fake wood-grain tabletop. A second later, a quarter of a breadstick slid into her field of vision and she looked up at Eames, who gave her a comforting smile and waved her hand, silently telling her to forget about his comment.
"Hey, Barek?" Alex said after the moment of tension had passed.
She swallowed the breadstick remnant. "What?"
"You got any beer? I think tonight's a night for drinking."
Carolyn just looked at her for a second, then blinked. "Uh, yeah, I think so. Check the fridge."
Alex did so, standing up and purposely pushing past Logan without an apology. "Looks like you've got a six-pack. That'll do. You want one?"
"Eh, what the hell," Barek sighed. "Sure, hand one over. I've got another six in the pantry, anyway." She held out a hand for the bottle and set it down on the table. "What about you, Goren?" she asked, turning to face him. "You want one?"
He shook his head with a resigned smile. "Not if Eames is drinking."
"Bobby, that was one night, years ago!" Alex protested. "And I think I can be forgiven for trying to drink my way out of the Christmas Party from Hell."
"The what?" the other two detectives chorused.
"Long story," Alex said, shaking her head.
"She's a sleepy drunk," Bobby supplied. "Not to mention the getting sick. You know I'm right," he persisted, turning to his partner. "If you get drunk, I'm going to have to carry you to the car and drive you home."
"Bite me," she said, defiantly taking a swig of her beer.
Barek, realizing their quasi-argument was over, took a sip of her own beer and reached for the pizza box that was sitting on the table. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving. Can we get down to the eating?"
"Works for me," Logan said as he leaned past her to grab a slice for himself.
"Me too," Alex said, swooping to get her share.
Bobby watched with amusement and then, when they were all busy eating, claimed his own slice.
Two hours later, Barek and Eames were sprawled on the floor, giggling at the horrible auditions being shown on American Idol and working on their fifth and fourth beers, respectively.
The two men, deciding that if the women wanted the floor, they weren't going to complain, were comfortably ensconced on the couch and the loveseat, watching their partners with bemusement. "How many can she have before she gets really wacky?" Logan asked Bobby, nodding toward Eames.
Goren sighed. "Four."
Nodding, Logan said, "The sounds about right for her. I have no idea what Barek's tolerance is, but I have a feeling I'm going to find out tonight."
"You," Barek announced, sitting up and pointing at him, "are not finding out anything about me tonight, thank you very much. There's been enough of that."
Alex was drunk, but not drunk enough to miss that remark. Obviously alcohol loosened the other woman's tongue; she wondered if she could get an answer now . . . "Hey Barek?"
"What?" she replied, turning away from Logan and back to Eames.
"You want to tell me where you got that hickey?"
":It's not a hickey!" Barek said indignantly. "It's just a bite mark!"
Complete silence enveloped the room for a few seconds until Goren coughed and said, "And . . . who bit you?"
Logan tried not to voice the string of curses that was running through his mind. She was going to give it up, he knew it. He was royally screwed.
Barek looked at Logan, then back at Bobby. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" Alex echoed incredulously. "What, people sneak into your bedroom at night and bite you?"
"No! It was . . . I mean, it's not . . ."
"I believe what she's trying to say," Logan spoke up, "is that there's no way in hell she's answering your question, no matter how you phrase it."
"Hmm." Eames looked over at her friend. "Carolyn? Is that what you were saying?"
Barek snorted. "He's so far from getting in my head that it's not even funny. He has no idea what he's talking about when it comes to his partner."
"You know what?" Logan snapped, sitting up. "Enough. You want to tell me why you suddenly hate me, or should I just leave?"
"Mike," Alex said, as seriously as she could manage in her inebriated state, as she clamped a hand on his knee to keep him from getting up. "Trust me, the 'Do what I want or I'm gonna storm out' thing . . . it never works. Nev-er."
"That's not what I'm doing," he shot back.
"Yeah, it is. You're being a brat, so sit your ass back down and play nice."
"You didn't tell me she's a mean drunk," he accused, looking at Goren.
"She's not," he said impassively. "And you're mean when you're sober, so maybe you're not the best person to complain."
"Ouch!" Alex laughed, high-fiving Barek, who looked slightly confused. "Nice, Bobby."
Bobby just shrugged and returned his eyes to her, where they had been most of the evening.
"Oh, that reminds me!" Alex exclaimed, watching his eyes travel down her body. "What was with the staring today in the conference room, both of you?"
"Staring at what?" Logan asked sharply.
"My boobs, you idiot!" Barek answered, barely restraining herself from throwing one of her empty beer bottles at him. "You know, those things on my chest that you watched for five minutes while Eames and I joked about you doing it?"
Logan, unable to think of a response to that outburst, just stared at her, open-mouthed.
"Ok, guys." Alex said, holding up her hands for silence. "You two have obviously done something that makes you both uneasy. Can I just point out that it really, really doesn't help to snipe at the one other person besides yourself who understands the problem? Namely, each other."
Barek gritted her teeth and told Alex, "Yeah,well, that's real easy for you to say. You've got someone who actually likes you."
"The hell . . .?" Logan blurted, leaning forward to get a better look at his partner's face. "I like you, Carolyn!"
"Hah."
"I do! Why would you think I don't?" her persisted.
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the issue. "Never mind. Forget it."
"Ohhh, no you don't." He abruptly slid off the couch and onto the floor, landing next to Barek. Crossing his arms and giving her a penetrating look, he repeated the question: "Why would you think I don't like you?"
"Because!" she burst out. "Just . . . because it's obvious."
Figuring Logan and Barek were too absorbed in their argument to notice if she moved, Alex scrambled to her feet, grabbed her drink, and went to sit next to Goren on the loveseat. "This is interesting," she whispered to him as she curled her legs under her and pulled his arm around her, then took a sip of her beer.
"You sure you want to finish that?" he attempted, reaching for the bottle.
"Down, boy. I'm still doing fine, and anyway, I don't think I could stand to watch them duke this out without alcohol in my system."
"Hmph." He wasn't in the mood to argue with her, and she did have a point: she didn't sound anywhere near drunk enough to set off any danger signals in his head. Sighing, he dropped the issue and returned his attention to the battle going on in front of them.
"Every single thing you said to me today," Barek was yelling, "that wasn't related to work - and some of the things that were - was some smartass comment about how you don't need me! How am I supposed to interpret that?"
"You could try not being so damn oversensitive," Logan shot back.
"Me?" she said on an incredulous laugh. "Me? I'm oversensitive? Believe me, Mike - if I were oversensitive, I would have ditched you the first time you slammed a pool cue into a guy's stomach. But no, I'm still here! I don't know why the hell why right about now, but -"
"Carolyn," he said pleadingly, "please. That's just how I am; my sense of humor is -"
"Your 'sense of humor'," she hissed, interrupting him, "apparently only applies to me. Because you sure as hell don't treat Eames that way!"
Alex, who had become absorbed in the show, stiffened and muttered to Goren, "Wait, why is she bringing me into this?"
"Oh yeah?" Logan yelled at his partner. "You know why that is? It's because I don't have to work with Eames every day and constantly try to pretend I haven't kissed her!"
Barek's mouth snapped shut and she gaped at him.
On the loveseat, Alex sent an elbow into her partner's stomach and whispered, "See? I told you he never -"
"Yeah," he said, quickly cutting her off. "I know you did."
"Well good. That makes twice today that I get to say 'I told you so,'" she informed him with a grin.
"You haven't . . . I . . . Eames . . . what?" Barek finally managed to stammer.
Logan raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Which part of that comes as a surprise to you? That I haven't kissed Eames, or that I have to make myself forget?"
"Well, but it was just . . . you didn't seem like . . ." She paused. "Does that mean you liked it?"
"That's our cue," Alex hissed, tugging on Bobby's sleeve. "Let's get out of here before we end up watching something we don't want to see."
She didn't have to tell him twice. Within seconds, they were up and tiptoeing out the front door.
Logan and Barek didn't even hear the door open and close behind their friends.