The door swung shut behind Carla, who had left in the same tornado-like whirlwind she had brought with her upon entering the room.

Sam froze in place, his eyes on the door, hand rubbing the back of his neck like it was suddenly sore. The interruption had taken him out of the moment, and it took him another few seconds before he found himself capable of facing her. When he finally willed his heels to turn around, he found Diane standing a few steps behind him, her eyes cast to the floor.

"Listen, Dia.."

"You should go tend to the bar, Sam. It sounds like they need you. We should both get back out there." For the third time since he had followed her into the ladies' room, Diane tried to make it past Sam and, for the third time, Sam blocked her way out.

"No, wait. I'm… I'm gonna go out there, see what Woody needs, and I'll be back in five minutes. Tops." Before she could say whatever it was she seemed to be about to say - her mouth half open, her eyebrows arched in that what-the-hell way - Sam held his hand up. "Please? Five minutes".

Without waiting for Diane to agree or for her to start an argument that would have turned those five minutes into at least fifteen, Sam was out the door and back in the middle of the action.

The bar had packed up nicely since he'd last been in the main room, and he had to shoulder some customers to get behind the counter where Woody was still profusely apologizing to the customer who, according to Carla's story, must have been the one to get the not so well fashioned Old Fashioned.

"Woody, what happened?" Sam asked, gesturing to the customer that they would fix the issue in no time and letting him know that it would be on the house.

"Gee, I don't know, Sam. I think I must have been distracted by Mr. Dalton's story there and put in the wrong liquor. I was sure the bitters were to my left, but I musta grabbed the Cointreau instead and nearly made the guy spit fire. He looked like a real dragon for a minute there, Sam. His eyes went red."

Before Woody had finished telling him what had happened, Sam was already preparing a new cocktail, half listening to what was being said to him, half watching the hallway to the bathroom, and hoping to God Diane would not stubbornly leave before he could get back to her.

In hindsight, he should have probably suggested they move the conversation to his office, but did he really want to risk her wandering back into the bar and being roped in by Jack before he could get another word in? Jack, who was still sitting at his bar talking Norm and Cliff's ears off. No, silly as the whole thing might look, the ladies' room seemed his safest bet.

"That's alright, Woody. Here's another Old Fashioned and try not to get distracted again, okay? I'll be a few more minutes".

"Malone! Where's Diane?!" Jack yelled from across the bar as Sam was preparing to leave. "I'd like to take off within the hour."

Clenching his teeth, Sam went around the counter to where Jack was sitting and spoke in a low tone. "Ah man, Diane's having a little cold feet so I'm trying to convince her there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Cold feet?! I thought I had her. Let me go talk to her." Jack started to get up from his stool.

"No, no. Leave it to me, I have her practically convinced. A few more minutes and she'll be out and ready to fly like a little bird." Sam forced a laugh as he put his hands together and flapped his fingers as if they were wings. Over my dead body, he mumbled as he set out to head back to the ladies' room.

"Sam where the hell are you going now?" Carla grabbed his arm and Sam cursed under his breath. Every extra second he'd take getting there was an extra second he risked Diane walking out on him.

"Diane's afraid of flying and I'm just trying to talk her into going off with Crocodile Dundee over there." Sam nodded in Jack's direction and gave the man a thumbs up. Carla kept her hold on his forearm.

"What do you care what lady berry bottom does?" she was still wearing the suspicious expression she had had on previously, when she had walked in on him and Diane.

"Carla, I don't care. I just thought it might be nice to have a night off from Diane. I'm doing it for you. For all of us. Can you imagine if she doesn't go and spends the rest of the evening yapping about how she maybe should have?" Sam rolled his eyes and tried to use his most unconcerned tone of voice, hoping Carla would buy it on his first try.

"Sammy! You've finally seen the light!" Carla's smile was so big Sam thought it might tear through her cheeks as she hugged him mid torso. He had her.

"I have, I have. So hey, can you tell the ladies to use Melville's bathroom for a little while longer? This shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

The truth was Sam had no idea how long it would take, and the only thing he'd seen was red from the minute Jack Dalton had burst into his bar, but he found himself smiling as he heard Carla belt out the instructions to the entire bar. If anyone could get the message across in one sole cry, it was Carla.

Diane turned around to face him as Sam walked in. Thank God, she was still there and had not slipped away unnoticed while he hadn't been looking. He stopped inches from the now closed door and looked at her. "Is there… are we…" he motioned towards the cubicles with a nod.

Diane shook her head. "We're alone."

"Right." Sam's hand was back on his neck as he pondered how to get back to where they'd left off. "Right." He had almost bared it all a moment ago, surely he could find his courage again, though it sure seemed like it was taking a bit for it to resurface. He could sense the expectation in her silence, which was still unsettling.

"Diane." he started. Pause. "Actually…" his eyes darted quickly around the room in search of something and he was soon pushing the small makeshift vanity table by the door to a spot in front of it, blocking the access from the inside out and the outside in. When his eyes returned to her she looked slightly confused, and amused at the same time.

"Just… don't want to be interrupted again." His hands were shoved in his pockets as he tried to regain that nonchalant attitude that would keep her at bay until he could figure out what to say.

"Sam. Would you please tell me what this is all about? It's all beginning to sound like an Agatha Christie murder mystery, except the murderer cannot bring himself to do the deed in this one, which makes the plot utter nonsense. The again, you're the one at the writing helm..."

Sam ignored her jab and paced left and right before taking a deep breath, letting the words out without giving them another thought.

"I don't want you going off with this guy on his airplane."

Diane seemed to consider his words carefully, though Sam could have sworn he'd seen a slight smile form before her lips had parted.

"Why not, Sam?" her voice was soft, but intent. It no longer sounded exasperated, as it had earlier. Surely due to the last few seconds of their exchange, before Carla had interrupted, when she, the smartest cookie he knew and especially when it came to figuring him out, had picked up on at least some of what he had so far tried to disguise.

"Because."

"Because?"

Sam's hands, which had been on his hips as he'd conveyed his wish with attempted authority, dropped to his side as she took one step towards him. That slight smile he'd seen was now clearly across her lips, an inquiring expression in her eyes.

And his heart was suddenly doing that thing again. That thing it had been doing for the past three and a half years every time she'd come too close for comfort. Every time she knew what he was about to say before he'd even thought it. Every time she'd walk into any damned room.

"Because it could be dangerous, Diane. Airplanes…"

Diane's head rolled forward and her chin dropped to her chest. She let out a grunt and before Sam knew it she was by the table, trying to push it out of the way.

"Sam Malone, if you're going to talk about airplanes and engine failures and things that drop from the sky, you can stuff it."

"Alright, alright!" Sam offered, reaching for the table to keep it in place. Why was it that he was trying to deflect again when he had been so willing to give in earlier? When he knew she wouldn't fall for his antics anymore. "I'll tell you why."

Diane stood by the door, her eyebrow raised as if she were waiting for him to screw up again. He better do good by her this time.

"Because I'm…" he slowly stepped closer to her as he spoke, cornering her between him and the closed door, leading her to lean against it. He couldn't look her in the eye. "I don't want you with him."

"Why don't you want me with Jack, Sam?" His jaw clenched. Damn her and all her whys.

Sam could sense her eyes searching his, but he kept his gaze low, on the floor between their feet. His right hand splayed against the door by the top of her head, while his left one began to absentmindedly play with the fabric on the skirt of her dress. He sighed heavily.

"I hate that he called you his berry bottom baby." he mumbled the words, like a kid confessing a crime. "I hate that you were his berry bottom baby. I hate that he saw you, Diane." His hand had moved from her skirt on to the white laces that held her dress closed in the front. He could see her chest heaving under his watch, feel the pace of her breath picking up as it hit him below the chin.

"I hate that he saw you in a way I never have. I hate that he touched you." His gaze finally met hers and it was her turn to lower her eyes, to avoid looking back at him. She looked flustered. "I hate that he had you. Christ, Diane. I hate it so goddamn much."

"It wasn't… it didn't…" Diane's apparent trouble in forming sentences made it almost impossible for Sam not to smile. "... mean anything. Doesn't mean anything. I was… It was a convoluted time in my life. Jack was just… he could have been anyone."

Sam put his forehead against Diane's, finding the return of his bravado in the words she had just spoken.

"Did you really dance on tables?" His hand slowly pulled on the string it had been holding, beginning to undo the bow on her dress, taking the time to pop open the small button that held the two sides of fabric together at the top of it.

"I… How do you know about that?"

"I'd have liked to see that." Her question fell on deaf ears. The knot under the bow came undone next. "What else did you do in Europe?"

"What?" He detected a sudden haziness in her voice. He noticed her eyelids had shut, her lashes had dug into the skin above the slope of her cheeks. Diane's hand came to rest on Sam's arm for what he sensed was support, and not an attempt to stop him. Her fingers had closed around his sleeve and she followed his movements as he continued with the task he had set out to do.

"What else did I miss?" he spoke in almost a whisper, the tip of his nose now touching her cheek below her eye, as he stepped even closer.

"There was… a um… a bit of drunk karaoke, a wet shirt … contest in the south of …France? Yeah um. France." her struggle at getting the words out only told Sam to keep going, and he hooked his fingers in two rows of lace and pulled towards him, removing it from every eyelet on the dress. "The beach, uh, nakedness which…. you now know about and…"

Sam felt Diane's stomach contract as his hand slid inside the now open front of her dress. He pressed his full palm against it, his fingers finding the side of her waist, his thumb softly rubbing her warm skin.

"Sam?" she sounded out of breath.

"Mmm?"

"Is this… are you doing this because there's the threat of another man?"

Sam grinned. For all the things she was so sure she knew about him, for all her apparent security when she'd tell him she knew he was not over her, Diane Chambers could at times sound like a little girl, still afraid of the dark.

"No." Sam's arms went around her waist and he picked her up effortlessly, guiding her legs around him as he held her under her thighs. His mouth touched the skin on the side of her neck and he breathed in her scent, as he set her down on her feet atop of the table he had used to block the door. It wasn't a very tall table, but it gave him the edge he was looking for. Her now only half hidden stomach was at eye level. Now free, his hands moved to the already parted fabric of her dress, and he pushed it further out of the way. Taking hold of each side of her torso, Sam held her in place as he brought his face to mere inches from the exposed skin of her abdomen.

"I'm doing it because there's the threat of a thousand men. None of them me."

The sound of her sigh as he pressed a kiss into the soft flesh by her navel egged Sam on, and he proceeded to burn a trail across her stomach, involuntarily moaning at the smell and taste of her skin, at how much he had missed her. At how much she felt like coming home. Diane's hands were on his shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his sweater into her fists, and Sam felt her fingers tighten around it and pull harder every time he'd exhale against her. The barely audible sounds she was making were sending shockwaves through him.

His arms snaked around to her back and he spread his fingers open across her spine, pulling her midsection further towards him. His mouth was slowly making his way upwards toward her chest, his nose touching the lace on her bra, when a sound invaded his ears like a forgotten brewing storm that had finally come down on him.

"CHAAAMMMMBERSSSSSS! What's taking you so long!" The voice of his nemesis. How appropriate.

Sam groaned against Diane's skin and felt her fall forwards onto him in the same disappointment he was feeling. The real world was out there, and they were inside the Cheers bathroom. Was he really expecting everyone else to disappear while he took his time with her? No, but it didn't stop him from wishing he could make them go away all the same.

"I think I forgot where we were." he held onto her for a moment, feeling her shake with laughter against him as she seemed to try and catch her breath.

"We should really make our way out there before those marauders come in here with axes in tow. Knowing Jack, he might give them the idea and lead the raiding party." Diane pushed Sam's shoulders away and he looked up at her. She was a damn vision, undone and flushed, and Sam wanted to curse the world for having busted in on them. Again.

"Yeah. Yeah I suppose you're right." Sam pulled away, taking her hand with him as he stepped back to give her some room. "We're not done though, Miss Chambers." He kissed her knuckles and threw a mischievous smirk her way.

"I certainly hope not, Mr. Malone." the childlike expression on her face mixed with her words nearly drove him to forgo reality.

"C'mere". He picked her up again and helped her down, brushing his cheek past hers, and letting his gaze linger on her face before his hands reluctantly let go of her waist.

Once the table was back to its rightful place and the way out of the ladies' room unblocked, Sam was about to exit the bathroom when his eyes fell to his crotch, which he now noticed was feeling a little tighter than usual. "Uh, honey? You'll have to take the lead out, I'm going to need a couple minutes here."

Diane, busy crisscrossing the laces on her dress, let out a hearty chuckle at the sight of him.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up, will you?" his eyes darted to her as he tried to keep the expression on his face as serious as he could. The sight of her fumbling to put herself back together was not helping. "And could you please turn around while you do that? Please." He motioned with his finger for her to turn her back to him, which caused Diane to snicker once more. "Oh of course, how thoughtless of me. I'm sorry, Sam."

When she was ready, Sam opened the door for her. "Hey, Diane?" his hand caught her elbow on the way out and she took a step back in.

"You won't go with him?" he'd done his best work in there under the circumstances, yet still felt he needed the reassurance that she would not be gone by the time he could rejoin the bar.

"I won't go with him, Sam."