[[Author's Notes:
Wanting to work on this story was what dragged me out of bed today. I may be mental illness' bitch, but there's no apathy invented that can take my words from me. :D
Man, I love writing Juliet. (I forgot to mention in the first chapter – the title of this is an allusion to the line where Chief Vick was telling Juliet about having to handcuff her former alcoholic partner to a radiator. So there you go.)
A million thanks to fmapreshwab, aki, and torchil for your reviews. You guys are what keep me going. :D So thank you.
Read, review, and enjoy! Up next: the dinner party of doom (and love). Oh, and if anyone can guess who Gus is courting, I will not only write you a story but give you my soul in a sparkly glass jar. Okay, maybe just the story part, I think my sweetheart already owns my soul in a sparkly glass jar, but you get the picture.
H&K's,
Elske! ]]
It's over lunch the next day that Juliet takes the opportunity to put the first steps of her plan in motion. And what a golden opportunity it is, she thinks, seeing Carlton picking at some vague microwaveable mess of a lunch at his desk. There's nothing like bad food to make one jump at the chance of eating good food, is there? She picks up a file, then pauses at her partner's desk on the way to the file cabinet.
"Hey, Carlton. Enjoying your lunch?"
That's enough to make Carlton gaze a gaze of doom in the general direction of the pasta and vegetables, before stabbing savagely at a pea with a plastic fork. He looks up at her. "It could be worse. There could have been a body this morning, and then I'd be thinking about how this looks like entrails."
"I was wondering…" she pauses dramatically, "Would you be interested in coming over for dinner tomorrow? Homemade lasagna?"
"Hmm." He frowns at his lunch, then turns a quick look up at Juliet. "What's the catch?"
She thinks rapidly, touching first on the actual truth, then settling on another excuse that's just as true which makes it perfect. "Well, you're really tall."
"Mmm-hmm."
"And so are my ceilings. And my landlord is out of town. And one of the light bulbs in my kitchen is out and I can't reach it even on the ladder so I was wondering if maybe you could change it for me?" The words come out in an uneven unplanned rush, which is actually perfect, considering the circumstances. (And oh, how could she have been so stupid not to have considered he would have expected thereto be a catch in a simple invitation for dinner?)
Carlton actually cracks a half-smile. "Well, it's not as though I've anything else to do. Thanks, O'Hara."
"Anytime!" she says, a bit too cheerfully, and bounces her way over to the file cabinet. Everything is going to plan so far, and now…for Shawn.
[[* * * * * * *]]
It's close to the end of the day when she finally gets the opportunity to talk to Shawn – crime's been light for a few days, and so he's had little reason to be around the station, and Juliet's heart skips a beat when he finally arrives (because she'd been spending the last half hour trying to figure out what to do if Shawn didn't stop by the station and everything she'd come up with was either too forward or too flimsy.
She leaves her desk behind, practically dashes across the room, knowing she needs to ask Shawn far enough away from Carlton so the other man can't overhear. "Hey, Shawn!" she says, a little awkwardly.
He gives her a critical look. "Jules! Why so happy to see me?"
"Because I need a favor."
"Anything!" Shawn winks, and Juliet feels herself relaxing. Yes! This is going to work after all.
"I'm having a tiny dinner party tomorrow, and…I need one more person or else it won't work at all, and please say you'll come, around seven?"
Shawn actually laughs. "When you asked for a favor I thought it would be something difficult. Wait, what's the catch, are your parents going to be there? Or ninjas?"
"No parents, no ninjas, just a couple people from around the station." Another almost lie that's really a truth! Ohh, she is on a a roll. "Come by my place around seven? And…would you mind leaving Gus at home?" She bites her lower lip, looks at the floor.
"Mind?" Shawn laughs again. "Dude, Jules, it's perfect timing. Gus actually has a date Friday night with some mystery woman. He won't tell me who it is. I was half suspecting it was you, and I am so, so relieved."
"Relieved that it isn't me?" Her heart sinks again: she's never for a moment taken Shawn's flirting seriously, but if he really was interested in her, interested in her enough that he wouldn't want his best friend going out on a date with her…
"Relieved that I'll have something to do other than spy on them. Because I really want to spy on them, Jules, I really do and he's threatened to take his credit cards back if I screw up another one of his dates." He bounces on his heels, claps his hands. "You'll keep me out of trouble. Brilliant. Now, if the Chief would only have some work for us – " he looks over to where Gus is pacing around in the Chief's office, having seemingly had the idea that he might do better at persuading her alone.
"Go check with Gus." Juliet says with a grin, "and I'll see you tomorrow."
She makes it back to her desk, sits down, rummages through a stack of papers and tries to keep the self-satisfied grin off of her face. This is going to be brilliant. She is going to be the best matchmaker ever.
"O'Hara? You never said, what time should I be there for dinner?" Carlton pauses by her desk, shrugging back into his suitcoat.
"Oh! Six thirty would be great!" She tries so hard to dampen her exuberance, knowing – knowing! – that he's going to suspect something. And she's cringing, on the edge of her seat, waiting for the shoe to drop…but it doesn't.
"Good night, O'Hara," Carlton says, and he's walking towards the door, and ohmygoodness she's going to actually pull this off! As long as she can get through the day of work tomorrow without any slip-ups, anyway, she reminds herself.
She gets to her feet, pushes her chair back into place, and heads towards her car, reminding herself to stop at the grocery store on the way home – because there's lasagna to make, after all.