A/N: I thought this was a one-shot, but apparently it's a whole story. Who knew?! This is for the reviewers that requested more.

Chapter TWO

Alex paused in the doorway of the dimly lit bar and let her eyes adjust. Trust Bobby to know a place in midtown Manhattan that was far enough from 1 Police Plaza and the courthouse to make it unlikely that any of their former colleagues would be there.

She checked her watch. 3:24. She was actually a bit early.

She didn't see Bobby, so she adjusted the chain strap of her purse on her shoulder and headed toward the bar, only to be stopped when a large, warm hand curled over her other shoulder. She stiffened, then relaxed when she smelled Bobby's cologne.

"Looking for me, Eames?" came the rumble of Bobby's voice, so close to her ear that she could feel his breath. Her toes curled and she turned to face her erstwhile partner.

"Yep," she answered simply. She swept her eyes up and down his form, completely aware that he was doing the same to her. He wore dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket, and, she thought, looked good enough to eat.

"Wow, Eam…Alex. You look…um…nice."

Alex thought she looked better than nice, in her snug black jeans, lipstick red, v-neck sweater, and black leather blazer, not to mention the open toed black heels with the corset-style laces on the vamp, but she let it go.

"So what's a girl gotta do to get a drink in this place, Bobby?"

He grinned down at her. "She's just gotta ask, Alex. Your usual?"

Once upon a time, a long time ago, Alex Eames had been an expert flirt. Her time in Vice meant that those skills were turned to a darker purpose, which had taken some of the fun out of them. Working Major Case, trying to keep the respect of the almost exclusively male hierarchy, made her put them aside most of the time.

But today, today was the day to remember everything she had ever known about attracting men. In that light, she made sure her arm brushed Bobby's as she wandered over to a booth while he went to the bar with her order.

When she sat down, she shrugged out of her blazer and turned to fiddle with her purse. As a result, her back was to Bobby when he came back with the drinks, and she heard his intake of breath when he saw the crisscross red strips of fabric that formed the top section of the back of her sweater. She turned to face him as he sat down in the booth, sliding her drink toward her.

"Margarita, on the rocks, extra salt," he said. His voice was a tad wobbly and she grinned to herself.

"Perfect, Bobby, thanks." She licked some of the salt with the tip of her tongue and almost giggled when he cleared his throat, twice, before he spoke.

"Okay, Eames, you distracted me on the phone when I asked, but seriously, why did you quit the force?"

She lost her appetite for both flirting and the drink for a moment, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face as she twirled the swizzle stick in the margarita in her fingers.

"Bobby, they really didn't leave me any option. As soon as that ass, Moran, told me what he wanted me to do, I knew I wouldn't take the Captain's chair permanently. But I also couldn't let them drag you up before a panel." She raised her head and looked across at him, knowing she had tears in her eyes. "I figured that it was going to hurt you, and it was better coming from me than the Brass."

His large hand covered one of hers, "But I still don't understand why you quit."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Really, Bobby? You really don't know?"

He shook his head. His thumb was making idle circles on the back of her hand that tingled, and she wondered if he was even aware of it.

"Bobby, you are…were my partner. In fact, we were the longest partnership in the history of Major Case. The Brass didn't like you because you didn't play the game, and because, let's be honest, you don't always follow the rules. They had me fire you for the simple reason that they could. They don't understand us, and they figured it was going to devastate you and possibly destroy our friendship. Those are not the kind of people I want to keep working for."

She knew her little speech sounded rehearsed, and that was because she had given it twice already today. First to her young union rep, who told her that it sounded to him like she had a case to call her exit an early retirement and to get all of her pension.

The second time was her frantic, pissed off father. Johnny Eames liked Bobby, once he got past the reputation that followed her partner around, and when he had heard her reasons for walking, he had understood. He told her that the Eames clan was behind them both, which she appreciated. Of course, he had also volunteered to wait in the parking garage for Moran with a tire iron, but that was less helpful.

And now, the third time she had given the speech, she had reduced her normally verbose partner to a silent, open mouthed stare. She took advantage of the moment to pull her hand out from under his, making sure to turn it upward and drag her nails lightly along his palm. He shivered.

Suddenly, his jaw snapped shut, and she watched as his "I have just figured something out" face appeared, followed by the look that meant someone was in trouble. She had a feeling she knew who.

"Alexandra Eames, have you been flirting with me?" he demanded.

She fluttered her eyelashes. "Me? Flirting? Bobby, what makes you think I even know how to flirt?"

"The brush against the arm, the margarita salt, even that sweater. It all adds up. So the move with the fingernails on the palm, did you pick that up in Vice?"

She sat up straighter, feeling indignant. "Thank you very much, Goren! Not everything I know comes from working girls."

He laughed at her, and she humphed in annoyance, crossing her arms on her chest.

Quick as a flash, he was sitting next to her in the booth, and she had to uncross her arms to slide backwards a bit as he loomed over her.

"Bobby, what the hell?"

He reached out with one finger and caught a piece of her hair, trailing it over the back of his hand, then leaned down to catch her eyes. His eyes were hooded, but they held hers firmly, refusing to let her look away simply with the fire in them.

"So, Eames, I guess the question now is why? Why are you flirting with me? Are you just trying to distract me from what's been happening?"

She shook her head mutely while he played with her hair, eyes still locked.

"What would you do if I said I wanted you, Bobby?" Alex found herself saying in a whisper.

Bobby's eyes opened wide, and a shit-eating grin spread across his face, before he dipped down to within a millimeter of her lips. "I think I'd have to do this, Alex," and he kissed her.

The kiss was gentle, tentative. She could tell that he was waiting for her to push him away, to refuse him. Instead she reached out and put her hands on his face, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

When they pulled apart, both panting, he leaned his forehead against hers.

"Jesus, Alex. How long?"

"Since Jo Gage. You?"

"Since the baby."

"Some detective I am. I had no idea."

"Me either."

They laughed.

"Now what?" Alex said.

"I have no idea."

They laughed again.

"This place is going to get crowded pretty soon when the offices close. How about we go somewhere we can talk?" Alex suggested.

Bobby smiled at her. "My place is closest. And…Alex?"

"Yes, Bobby?"

"If I make you a margarita, would you do that thing with your tongue again?"

She swatted him on the arm as they left the booth, and he captured her hand in his. They walked out of the bar into the sunlight hand in hand.

END

A/N: This time I think it's really over. Sigh.