They'd only just pulled out of the driveway when Alex's cell phone rang. Forcing her heavy eyelids open, she glanced at Bobby, who had his eyes focused on the road as he tried to spot the turn he needed to take to get back to the highway.
"Don't look at me," he told her without turning his head. "I don't have any hands free to answer a phone."
She sighed and raised the phone so she could see the caller ID display. "It's Sean." Looking back at him in confusion, she asked, "Did I fall asleep? How long ago did we leave?"
"Oh, about thirty seconds," Bobby said with a chuckle. "Answer it, we probably forgot something we were supposed to take with us."
"Hmm." She unfolded the phone and put it to her ear. "Yeah, Sean?"
She could barely hear his greeting over the bedlam of voices in the background of the call. "Hold on!" he said after a second, a little louder than his first attempt. A few seconds later, the noise level dropped substantially and he spoke again. "Sorry. The mob's in free-for-all mode; I'm in the kitchen now. I just wanted to give you a heads-up."
That didn't sound good. "A heads-up on what, exactly?" she asked warily.
"Uh . . . you might be getting an angry call from Dad sometime soon."
She closed her eyes and groaned. "And why might I get that call, brother dear?"
"Rob kind of let something slip," he said evasively. "He - what, Jo? No! Tell them I'm - . . . Alex, hold on," he ordered again, his voice sounding farther away from the phone now. There were a few seconds of muffled conversation, during which Sean put his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone, before he returned his attention to his conversation with Alex.
"Sean?" Alex demanded impatiently, annoyed at being disturbed and then effectively put on hold. "What are you talking about?"
"Sorry. So yeah, uh, Rob kind of told everyone that you and Bobby have been sleeping together," he said tentatively, unsure of whether she'd take her anger out on him or hold it for Rob.
"He what?" Alex squawked into the phone.
"You heard me." His shrug was almost detectable even over the phone line. "Listen, he didn't give us any details, so I don't know if it's true, and frankly, I don't think I particularly care as long as you know what you're doing . . . but I figured it would be cruel and unusual to not warn you ahead of time that Mom and Dad aren't feeling quite as magnanimous."
She let her head fall forward defeatedly until it was resting against the dashboard, aware of the fact that Bobby would be staring down at her in concern as often as he could take his eyes off the road. "He just . . . that's what he said? 'Alex and Bobby have been sleeping together'?"
Bobby's strangled exclamation from the driver's seat drowned out Sean's answer. She waved a hand at him repressively and said, "Sean, say that again?"
"Well, uh, there was sort of a betting pool starting after you guys left, and -"
"What?"
"Hey, I'm just the messenger," he said placatingly. "You know how the family gets. They were betting over when you guys are going to go on a date, and Rob mentioned that he happened to have some inside information . . ."
"Such as that I've been sleeping with Bobby," she finished tiredly. "Figures, he'd spill it to win a bet. Remind me to do him serious injury next time I see him."
"Will do."
She sighed. "Thanks for the warning, even if I do think you just gave me an instant ulcer. But Sean, do me a favor?"
"Does it involve hitting Rob?"
"Not this time, although I'm not ruling it out for the future. No, I was going to ask if you could . . . you know, if it comes up again with people . . . explain to them that it's 'sleep' in the literal sense, not what their dirty minds are assuming. I have nightmares when he's not around. I'm sure Laura can explain the whole 'traumatic connection' thing to them. She's a shrink, let her do her thing."
"Uh, right. I'll mention it to her. Ok, so - Jo! Not ag-" He broke off to laugh, then directed his voice into the phone again. "Alex, Jo wants me to tell you that if it turns out Rob's wrong about you guys, she'll volunteer to take Bobby off your hands."
"I like 'em tall!" she could hear Jo shout in the background.
Alex snorted. "Tell her that I'll mention it to him, but first she's gotta get rid of you. Which leads me to advise you, as your older sister, to hang up this phone and go buy her some chocolates or something before she decides to take me up on the offer."
"Chocolates," Sean echoed thoughtfully. "Hey, Jo!" he yelled over his shoulder, causing Alex to pull the phone away from her ear with a wince. "What kind of chocolate do you like best?"
Alex rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, Sean."
"Huh? What? Oh, bye," he muttered. "Truffles? What the hell are-"
She shut the phone and shook her head. "I'm in deep shit," she informed Bobby as she set the phone down again.
Bobby nodded. "Sounds like we both are. Who did he tell?"
"Everyone. Including the kids. I'm going to kill him."
Bobby swallowed. "Everyone? As in, including your parents?"
"Unfortunately," she sighed. "You're welcome to join me in drawing and quartering him when I get him cornered."
"I told you you shouldn't have made me come," he muttered, stepping a little too hard on the gas to pass a slow right-lane driver.
"Are you kidding?" she said, astonished. "They love you. It's me that's going to get in trouble for this."
"Somehow I find myself doubting that," he told her. "Your family strikes me as the type that protects its own."
Alex yawned widely, then sighed. "I guess we'll have to batten down the hatches and wait and see." Glancing into the backseat, she pulled his topcoat between their seats until it was on her lap. "Ok if I use this as a pillow?"
"Take the cuffs out of the pocket first, but yeah." He chanced a look away from the road to quickly stroke his thumb over her cheek and examine her face closely. "You look exhausted. I'll wake you up when we get home."
She pulled out his handcuffs and tossed them into the back seat, then balled up the coat and slipped it under her head. "The handcuffs are for another day. Thanks for the pillow."
She was asleep before be could parse that statement and begin to feel shocked.
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She was still asleep when he parked in front of her building an hour later, and he just sat there for a few minutes after he turned off the ignition, watching her. Although her face bore few lines even when she was awake, her face as she slept seemed to have been smoothed out. Her features were completely relaxed, and as he watched, she burrowed her face deeper into his coat and murmured something unintelligible.
He wondered if the way she was clutching the coat had anything to do with his scent lingering in it, then told himself that was ridiculous. She was asleep; no one processed such subtle scents when they were unconscious. Still, he had a strong urge to lean over her, to maybe kiss her, just to see what happened.
But that would be bad. He'd been telling her for a week how bad it would be; if he went against his own advice and did it now, she'd either kill him or make fun of him mercilessly. No, he'd be much better off just waking her up and getting her upstairs so she could sleep in an actual bed.
"Alex," he whispered almost inaudibly, not really wanting to wake her even as he began trying to.
Her only response to the whisper was a slight wrinkling of her nose that could have just been caused by a stray fiber on the coat tickling her. He waited another second, just in case, then tried again, this time leaning closer so he could whisper it almost in her ear. "Alex?"
Her nose wrinkled again and she twisted her head so that it lay mostly under the coat, with her ears covered, instead of on top of it. He suppressed a grin; obviously she wasn't eager to be awakened. Hell, he could understand the feeling - he felt it every time he woke up in bed with her. All the same, he needed to get her upstairs, and if he resorted to carrying her up, it would have to be in a position sure to hurt her ribs. So she needed to open her eyes and . . . "Alex," he said a third time, picking up the corner of the sleeve that covered her ear and saying it a little louder almost directly into her ear.
"No," she said clearly, without opening her eyes. One hand came out from under her head to hit him weakly as though he were an alarm clock.
"Come on," he told her, trying not to laugh as he kept his mouth by her ear so she couldn't escape his voice. "I know you're awake, Alex. Might as well open your eyes long enough for me to get you into your apartment."
"No. Tired," she mumbled, even as she unintentionally began to obey and open her eyes. "I'm not . . ." Her eyes widened and she forgot whatever argument she had been about to make as she pulled her head out from under the coat and found his face only inches away from hers.
They stared at each other without moving for a moment, both wishing something would happen but afraid at the same time that it would. "Bobby?" Alex said softly, breaking the silence.
He blinked, gave his head a slight shake, and pulled back from her until he was sitting completely in his seat again. "Uh, sorry. I was trying to, uh . . . well, we're here, and . . .uh . . ."
"You want one of my Vicodins?"
That gave him pause. "Uh . . . no," he said cautiously. "Why?"
"Then stop stammering and wringing your hands like a nervous kid on his first date," she said with a teasing smile. "Yeah, you really were wringing them," she added when he looked down at his hands suspiciously. "Whatever it is that set you off, you need to chill. I assume you were trying to get me out of the car?"
"Yeah."
"Well, let's do it." She pulled the coat away from her head, a few strands of her hair following its static electricity. "Static," she grumbled, trying to get the hair to stay in place without really raising her arms.
He took the coat from her and donned it, then reached into the back seat and retrieved the abandoned handcuffs, slipping them into an inner pocket. "Dryer sheet," he said as he opened his door and stepped out of the car.
"What?" she asked when he opened the door on her side.
He didn't answer immediately, concentrating on keeping steady while she used him as a brace to stand up. "A dryer sheet will fix the static, at least temporarily," he finally explained as they entered the building with him supporting most of her weight.
They stepped into the elevator with her in front so she could lean back against him. "Where do you get this stuff?" she asked curiously, managing not to show a reaction when he surprised her by slipping his arms around her waist in a loose embrace.
He gave that a second's thought. "I don't know. I just . . . know it."
"Bobby Goren, domestic goddess extraordinaire."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing," she said with a shake of her head, laying her hands on top of his at her waist. "Just talking to hear my own voice."
Before he realized what he was doing, he automatically splayed his fingers so that her fingers slipped between his and they were holding hands. When he processed what he'd just done, he moved to pull away his hands away but found that she was holding them in place firmly. "I'm sorry, I . . ." he mumbled, trying again to pull away.
"Stop it," she ordered without loosening her grip. "This is comfortable."
"But we shouldn't . . ."
"Just tell yourself you're helping to hold up a tired woman," she said, cutting off his protest. "Nothing more than that."
He subsided, unwilling to start a real argument over it, and settled for watching the numbers above the door as they advanced slowly toward her floor. Come on, come on . . . move faster so I can get her away from my body before I embarrass myself!
"Uh, Bobby?" Alex said gently, giving his hand a shake. "Doors are open. Move 'em out."
He blinked, noting that the elevator had indeed stopped on her floor while he was busy silently berating it. "Sorry." Pushing her away from him with as little force as he could manage and still get some space between them, he put his arm around her shoulders and started toward her apartment.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, catching herself just before he sent her into a wall. "What the hell was that about? Fragile goods here, remember?" she added, pointing to herself.
"Alex, I'm sorry," he said with genuine remorse, mentally kicking himself for his cloddishness. "I wasn't thinking and I just -"
"It's fine," she cut him off. "Just . . . let's get inside, ok? I want to lie down."
"Of course." He removed his arm and stood by as she unlocked her door and pushed it open, then put it around her again when she began to walk into the apartment. "You want to go straight to bed?"
She nodded tiredly and pointed to the clock on the wall, which told them it was past ten. "It's almost bedtime, anyway. You going to stay up a while?"
He gave that serious consideration, then caught himself on a yawn. "Uh . . . guess not," he told her sheepishly.
She grinned as they began a three-legged walk to the bedroom. "My family can have that effect on people. You lasted longer than most."
He shook his head. "Yeah, well, I get the feeling that I'm not going to last much longer if your father gets his hands on me before you explain things to him. Quite possibly your mother, too."
She made a rude noise and shut the bedroom door behind them. "My dad's all bark and no bite. Stop worrying."
"Uh, Alex . . ." he said nervously as he sat to take off his shoes, "unless things used to be a lot different on the force, I don't think they make cops without 'bite'."
His sweatpants, which had lately been adorning her legs, hit him in the back of the head. "I said to stop worrying, Bobby! Nothing is going to happen - other than me killing Rob, that is."
It took him a second to realize that there was something very wrong with the pants currently being on his side of the bed. "Uh . . . Alex?"
"Hmm?" The bed dipped slightly as she sat down with her back to him to take off her watch and set it on the nightstand.
"Weren't you just wearing these?" he said guardedly, slinging the pants over his shoulder without daring to turn around.
"Yeah." She swung her legs up onto the bed and wiggled her way under the covers. "You can turn around now, if you were avoiding looking at me."
He did, and stared at her for a second before saying, "You took off . . ."
"It's more comfortable. And before you have a heart attack, I'm still wearing underwear and the shirt."
How could she possibly think that the mental image of her in her underwear would make him less likely to turn into a gibbering idiot? But she obviously saw nothing wrong with her current state of dress - was he just being absurdly uptight? He didn't know at this point. All he knew, he decided as he slid under the covers, was that he was going to be sleeping on his hands tonight to avoid accidentally learning any more about her underwear than he could stand.