A/N: Well, unlike elfluvr and her brilliant portrayal of sexual tension in Sexual Kinetics and Chanel No. 5, I am not very good with it. Ah, well...Hope you guys enjoy it anyway...Not a whole lot of point to this chapter, just getting from A to B :-)

He pulled the chicken from the oven and set it on the stove top. She appeared in the doorway and he looked at her. "Is it safe?" she asked.

"As safe as it's going to get," he replied with a smile.

"You keep those cuffs in your pocket, Goren."

"What are you afraid of, Eames?"

"Afraid? I'm not afraid of anything. But cuffs chafe."

He raised his eyebrows. "Now how would you know that?"

"Ah...never mind."

"No...I want to know."

She just laughed and slipped past him to the sink. Opening the cabinet over the counter beside the sink, she took out two glasses. She stepped back...and ran right into him. With her back pressed against him, he leaned closer, bringing his mouth right up to her ear. "Come on, Eames. Tell me."

All she could think about was how his body felt against hers, frozen where she was for a long minute. As soon as she could get her body to obey, she stepped away and ducked past him, cursing her body and how it responded to his closeness. She set the glasses on the counter and opened the refrigerator, finally trusting herself to speak again. "Maybe later," she said.

"Aw, Eames..."

She looked at him. There were those warm, dark eyes...and that smoldering look again, drawing her into his gaze...she stuck her head back in the refrigerator, where it was cold...

Pulling out a bottle of wine, she stood up and shut the door. He was leaning back against the counter, watching her. She could feel his gaze...and she had to consciously stop herself from trembling. Ok, maybe this had been a bad idea.

He watched her, taking a deep breath to try to calm himself down. What the hell was happening? When she'd backed into him, he found it impossible to move away. He liked the way she felt against him, and he couldn't keep other images from popping into his head. How the hell did she know what cuffs were like...? He tried to steer his mind clear of those images, but it wasn't working. He was now wishing he was drunk, so there would be an excuse for the thoughts raging through his head. Dinner...ok, yeah, that would be a good diversion.

"Uh, if you're ready to eat..."

"Yes. Let's eat."

Great idea. Maybe food would take her mind away from...other thoughts. She reached up into the cabinet over the counter near the stove and pulled out two plates. He forced his eyes away from her, trying to focus on the chicken instead. If he was smart, which everyone thought he was, he would leave now. Maybe he wasn't as smart as people thought...

She set the plates on the counter and he dished the chicken onto it, followed by the broccoli and buttered noodles. She looked up at him, and he shifted his eyes to meet hers. "Is that enough?" he asked.

"Enough what?" Could he read her mind?

"Uh, food..."

"Oh," she glanced at her plate. "Sure. Plenty."

He wondered what else she thought he could have meant. Was she feeling the same...tension...he was? No, she couldn't be...she would have already told him to go home. She was the one with the sense, who kept him grounded. She would keep anything from happening...she was the sane one, after all...

She took the wine and two glasses, wondering if wine was a good idea as she carried it to the table. Maybe she just needed to relax. Maybe then, all this would go away and she'd feel normal again. She couldn't help wondering, though, if he was feeling the same way. No, he couldn't be. He would have been out the door already, making some excuse to ensure she didn't feel badly or blame herself for his departure... He would never allow anything to happen...and yet...he'd kissed her, or let her kiss him. She wasn't sure which. She almost dropped the glass.

He reached out as the glass started to slide from her hand, closing his hand around hers to stop the glass from sliding to the floor. There was that touch again, and damn it, he was too close... "Open the bottle, Bobby."

"Hm?"

"The wine?"

"Oh, yeah...ok."

He picked up the cold bottle, releasing her hand so he could open it. He focused his attention on opening the bottle, so that it wasn't on her, but he couldn't make his mind obey, dammit. Maybe it would be a good idea if he went home. They could talk at lunch tomorrow, some place public, where it was safe. Looking up, he met her eyes again, and any thought of leaving deserted him. The pop of the cork drew his attention away from her again. Pouring wine into the two glasses, he took his seat opposite her, heaving a sigh.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It was a long day."

She nodded silent agreement. It had been a long day. "Bobby, what happened last night?" There was nothing like taking the bull by the horns, and she always believed in being direct.

He looked like she'd just hit him. "Um...I...you wouldn't let me apologize."

"So you are sorry?"

"That I kissed you? Um, no. That I let it happen, well, yeah."

"You think it was all you?"

"Well...I...wasn't it?"

"Did I smack you?"

"No."

"Then it wasn't all you."

He gave that some thought. "So, uh, why did you let me..."

"I was thinking it was you who let me," she replied.

That scenario hadn't occurred to him. He could have blamed it on the beer...but he wasn't one to make excuses. It had happened, regardless of who had allowed it. He let his mind linger on that kiss, brief though it was, and how he'd felt...and the only thing he wanted to do at that moment was kiss her again. And he was sober...God, this was not a good thing...or was it?

She watched him as he wrestled with himself, and she considered that he had been the one who initiated and allowed that kiss. Neither of them had objected. But he had been the one to pull back. Reluctance...confusion...but no regret...at least, not of the kiss. "Bobby? Would you...let it happen again?"

"Would you?"

"Bobby..."

"That would be what I would base my answer on, whether you would let it happen again."

"So if I said no..."

"Then I wouldn't."

"Suppose I was uncertain?"

"Are you?"

"Dammit, if you don't stop answering my questions with a question, I swear I'm going to smack you."

He laughed. "If I thought you were uncertain, I suppose I might have to try to convince you..." What the hell was he saying? Had he lost his mind for real this time?

Convince her? She certainly wouldn't need much convincing...but he couldn't know that...

"Can we be serious about this?" she wondered out loud. "Have we totally lost it?"

"Maybe..."

But if this was what it was to lose it, damn, he never wanted to find whatever it was they had lost. Being close to her...having her body up against his...kissing her...it just felt...good...so damn good... and he needed to feel that...

Maybe? What did he mean by maybe? Did he really think they could get away with stepping into this, and not lose what they had together, not lose their ability to function as a team? Could they? Well, it would either draw them closer, and make them an even better team, or it would drive them apart, destroying them in its wake...and there was only one way to know which one it would be.

She pushed her empty plate away and sighed. He had already finished and was watching her, his chin perched on his folded hands. He was waiting for her to make the next move. He would base everything on what she did next. She wasn't happy about having that kind of pressure put on her. "What do you want to do?" she asked.

She really couldn't want him to answer that. He had an answer, but he had no idea if it was one she would be happy to hear. So he chose a safe answer. "I'll do whatever you want me to, Eames."

"That's a cop-out, Goren, and you know it. I want an answer. A real answer."

Well, he wasn't ready to give her that. He got up and took the plates from the table into the kitchen. She watched him stack the dishes by the sink. Damn him, he was going to wash the friggin' dishes. He was avoiding the question. Ok, fine! If he wanted to play hard ball, she wouldn't wait for a verbal answer.

Getting up, she went into the kitchen, behind him. She slipped under his arms to stand in front of him at the sink. "Here, let me help you."

Help him? Help him what? She leaned her body back into his. Aw, shit...

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked softly.

She tipped her head back, exposing the hollow of her throat to him. "Helping you with the dishes."

His eyes were riveted to that sensitive pulse point, watching it throb with the beat of her heart. "The hell you are."

She turned around so that she was facing him. "So tell me what you want, then."

He began to step back, but she was not going to let him get away with that. She slid her hand into the waistband of his pants and pulled him back toward her. He caught his breath. "Tell me," she growled huskily.

Oh, hell... He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her, hard. "Is that what you wanted?" he growled back at her.

Keeping her hand in his waistband, she pulled him back toward her, kissing him again, pressing her body against his.

"What was it you said about handcuffs?" he whispered against her lips. The dishes didn't get washed.