A/N: I'm loving this. That is all. :D I really appreciate those that have taken the time to leave a comment, it's really encouraging to me. (if you have any suggestions, those would be welcome as well)

Getting the sofa up to the apartment wasn't hard. The well oiled casters on the furniture dolly glided smoothly across the marble floor of the lobby, and the tacky green loveseat fit comfortably in the elevator, the shiny steel doors reflecting the upholstery back at Jack and Lucy. They didn't encounter a problem until they reached the door to Peter's apartment.

Either the door was smaller than average, or whoever designed the loveseat just wanted to make movers lives unnecessarily difficult. Jack and Lucy maneuvered the thing every which way trying fit through the entrance. Brute force seemed to be the only option left.

Jack squatted on the side of the sofa still sticking out in the hall, peeking up over the overstuffed arm to glance at Lucy's flushed face, an amused smile curling the corners of her mouth, the chuckle she'd just let escape still made his ears tingle. "Why don't you step back for a little bit? I'm gonna try an old trick."

She stepped back a little, giving him room to do whatever it was he had up his sleeve. He would know when it came to moving furniture, it was his business after all. She crossed her arms, and looked at him curiously. "What's the trick?"

He looked at her, absolutely serious, his clear eyes giving her a once over before one corner of his mouth hitched up into a smirk. "Push it really hard."

She snorted, involuntarily. Jack and levity were a good combination. She could definitely get used to the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way his whole face transformed when he was being silly. Her cheeks ached from trying to suppress a full blown grin. "Okay."

He disappeared once again, his head dipping below the arm of the loveseat as he braced his shoulder against it. She waited, expecting something, a sound of some sort at least, but nothing happened. "Okay, push."

Then she did hear it, a little puff of air blown out in frustration. "I did."

He stood back up, looking at her sheepishly, the smirk still playing at his lips. He shrugged, staring at the furniture in front of him, somewhat perplexed. And there it was again, the little giddy feeling in her chest, a slight fluttering that made her feel like she just had to say something, laugh, make some kind of noise to dissolve the butterflies. She smiled involuntarily, this time drawing her bottom lip between her teeth to control the expression somewhat. "Do you want me to help you… now?"

She'd learned to tread lightly with men like Joe Fusco, and the constant stream of machismo she encountered each day at the train station. Men's egos were so easily bruised, and she wasn't sure what kind of guy Jack was, but she had learned it was best to avoid those types altogether. She had her fingers crossed that Jack wasn't one of them.

He looked at her quizzically, as if wondering what took her so long to volunteer her assistance. Nodding already in answer to her question, he said, "Alright, a little help would be good."

Of course he would look at her with a soft expression on his face, the motion of his nodding head setting his sandy blond hair to bobbing. She wanted to run her fingers through it, drag her nails along his scalp as she pulled him toward her. She thought maybe he was the kind of man who would shiver slightly as she tugged along the hair along his nape, a shiver she could feel through his lips against her own.

She slammed on the breaks, dropping her gaze back to her crossed arms, feeling a warmth in the pit of her stomach that she hadn't felt in so long. It was like she'd been asleep for years, and was now being woken up in the most pleasant way possible, but it was all to no avail. Nothing could happen here. She swallowed resolutely. "Okay."

She wasn't sure if she was answering her own melancholic thoughts, or Jack's request for help. Either way, she leaned forward, grasping the arm of the seat, bracing herself for Jack's signal.

On three he pushed, and she pulled, and something snapped. The loveseat went sailing through the open door, Lucy flailing as she stumbled backwards into an unfortunately placed table. She winced as she heard the distinct sound of glass breaking, groaning as she saw the shattered vase, a strangely blue liquid pouring out onto Peter's pristine white carpet.

She felt Jack come up behind her, the heat at her back something she couldn't ignore. The warmth of his words skittering along her ear when he spoke. "I think the sofa should go right there."

The amusement in his voice triggered her own, the giddy feeling her chest once again making an appearance. A short giggle burst from her lips when she thought of the tacky piece of furniture inexplicably sitting in the middle of Peter's almost hideously modern apartment. "Sure."

She stepped forward and started picking up the glass, carefully collecting the biggest shards between the tips her fingers. She inhaled sharply as a fine edge slice along the pad of her index finger.

Jack was at her side before she could even say anything, taking the offending glass from her hands and depositing it in the bin before returning to her side. He cradled her hand gently in his own, focusing all his attention on the small little cut. Honestly she'd had papercuts that were worse, but her ability to speak had momentarily abandoned her, the breath catching in her chest completely. Jack pulled her over to the sink, running the water for a second before plunging her finger beneath the stream.

They were close, leaning together over the kitchen counter, breaths mingling. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her arm, his body heat seeping through the canvas coat he wore, the scent of his mellow cologne filling her head. It would be so easy to lean into him, tilt her head up slightly and finally figure out just what it would feel like to kiss Jack Callaghan.

Jack turned his head slightly and caught her staring. He stared back for a second, thoughts astonishingly similar to Luchy's echoing in his brain. He cleared his throat instead. "Should have used a dust pan, just swept the whole mess up."

She nodded, mind jumping around. She didn't even know where to find a dust pan here. Pulling her hand out from under the water, she shifted slightly away from Jack, feeling bereft at the absence of his touch. She focused her attention on her injury. "Look, it's not even bleeding any more. I think it'll be fine."

She held up her hand between them, consciously creating a barrier between their bodies, trying to get her own physical response to him under control. Her plan backfired almost immediately when Jack took her hand once again, this time under the pretence of examining her cut.

He liked her hands, delicate and soft, so often encased in gloves when he saw her, fending off the cold Chicago winter. He couldn't stop himself, he drew her hand to his lips, brushing a light kiss along her knuckles, allowing himself for a moment to get lost in the feel of her skin against his. When he withdrew, she was staring at him wide eyed. He swallowed. "Ma always used to do that, when we were kids. She'd say, 'No better medicine than a kiss.'"

He dropped her hand, feeling horribly embarrassed. He couldn't take the soft look she was giving him. Somehow it conveyed a million things and nothing all at once. He spun away from her, mumbling nonsense about falling off his bike when he was a kid. He quickly disappeared through the door to Peter's utility room, coming back with a broom and dust pan.

They quietly cleaned up the rest of the mess, Lucy taking a minute to hunt down the cat and feed it before they left. They rode the elevator in silence, things only a little awkward. It could have been worse. She could have pushed him away, appalled that he would take such liberties with her. But her non-reaction was almost as bad. It allowed Jack hope, the last thing he needed in regards to her.

Now, more than ever, he wanted Peter to wake up. He wouldn't feel nearly as bad competing for Lucy's affections if his brother were conscious. Here, with hope beating in his chest, he was afraid that was exactly what was going to happen.