In the end, neither Jo nor Zane chose to raise the subject of their disagreement after the impromptu truce that night. Jo woke the next morning, disoriented and surprised to find herself wrapped in Zane's arms, in his apartment, having dismissed her hazy memories of the night before as just a dream.
Once she'd finally managed to process her situation, her first instinct was to pull away and to shake him awake; to make her apology while he was still there and perhaps even amenable to conversation. But as she slid away from him in the bed, his grip around her waist tightened unconsciously and halted her in her tracks. She hesitated: turned around, facing him and the way his brow creased in unconscious dismay in response to her attempt at departure, and froze. He shifted closer, murmuring something unintelligible in his sleep, and she traced the familiar lines of his face with her eyes, soaking him in. She turned over again, steeling herself to leave the bed, when a firm tug at her waist brought her tumbling back down from where she'd had herself propped over the mattress with a soft thud.
"C'mere, crazy woman," he grumbled from behind her.
"Zane…" she protested half-heartedly, struggling reluctantly against his grasp, but he held surprisingly firm.
"Can't it wait?" He asked plaintively, and to her chagrin she found herself melting into his embrace. We can talk later, after all, she assured herself defensively, as she relaxed into his warmth and felt herself drifting off, we have plenty of time.
Jo woke up later that morning to find Zane's side of the bed empty, making her heart sink. She slid out of the warm bed and padded across the room and into the hallway. She paused, catching an unexpectedly sweet scent on the air with her lately hypersensitive nose. She stepped into the kitchen, only to discover her – boyfriend? lover? baby daddy? – wearing only his pajama bottoms and a sheepish smile in front of a furiously sizzling frying pan. He was humming tunelessly to himself, his back to her where she stood in the doorway, and her entrance was so quiet that he jumped in surprise at the sound of a chair scraping across the tile floor. Never one to accept being caught off guard, he regained his equilibrium in only seconds. By the time he turned to face her, less than a minute later, his customary defenses were firmly in place – but unspoken emotions still lingered in his eyes.
"Pancake?" He inquired, proffering the pan full of half-cooked batter. Jo flashed him a quick smile, almost shy in the light of the preceding week's events, and slid into the chair she'd just pulled out. She glanced up at him, her breath catching a little in her chest from the way he looked at her, and bit her lip nervously.
"Blueberry?" She asked hopefully. The corner of his mouth quirked into a lopsided smile.
"That can be arranged," he replied, and, reassured, Jo settled into a morning like any other.
Whatever Jo's intentions had been when she had woken up that morning, 'later' never really came. Two weeks passed, and the two of them began to slip back into the routine that had been developing between them before their quarrel in GD. But little things had begun to change between them. Jo was beginning to spend more nights at Zane's place, and he'd quietly purchased a second toothbrush which he'd placed in his bathroom without comment. Dinners with the rest of the time traveling five had become increasingly relaxed since Zane had reached his understanding with Carter. But there was one change which was becoming gradually evident to both Zane and Jo, though they never spoke about it. It was still subtle, but more and more pronounced with each week: the sleek, smooth expanse of skin resting just above Jo's pelvic bone was becoming softly rounded. She'd silently taken refuge in the softer, looser fabric of the dress pants she would typically only wear for work, and the purchase of a number of loose, flowing cardigans, leaving her with a more classically feminine look than Zane could recall ever having seen before. Unsurprisingly, this had resulted in talk around town about the Enforcer going soft over Zane, which she'd been prompt and very nearly vicious in squelching. Jo's aggression, coupled with a few 'mysterious' incidents in the perpetrators' labs and a meaningful look or two on Zane's part, had momentarily put paid to such talk, but they both recognized that they were working on borrowed time. Sooner or later, word would have to get out about the baby, and when that day came the odds were very good that they'd lose their last thread of control over the situation. So when Carter found them having lunch at Café Diem that Monday afternoon, his news was met with mingled alarm and relief.
Vincent had just dropped their lunches on the table in front of them when the café door swung open and Carter strode in. He paused at the counter to make his order, then turned and leaned his back against the counter, surveying the room. His eyes landed on the two of them and he stopped short.
"Jo! Zane!" He exclaimed, glancing back at Vincent before crossing the room and pulling up a chair. Zane cast him an irritated look as he slid into place in the gap between them at the table.
"Feel free to join us, of course, Carter," Zane muttered. "Don't hesitate to help yourself to my fries, too." Jo cast him a quelling look, and for the most part the scowl vanished from his face, though hints of it lingered around his eyes.
"Don't mind if I do," Carter responded easily, temporarily sidetracked from the news of the hour to snag a couple of Zane's fries. Zane clenched his jaw, though the motion seemed mostly reflexive and unconscious. Carter himself appeared oblivious to Zane's irritation, though Jo, at least, knew better. Carter was good at hiding his thoughts when it suited him – it was something of which most people in Eureka were unaware. They were prone to the belief that with Jack Carter the surface was all there was to get. Jo suspected even Allison fell prey to this misconception, from time to time. Not that she blamed her. It had taken Jo a while to warm up to the man – the circumstances of his arrival had been admittedly somewhat infuriating for her, after all – and even longer before she'd realized how much more there was to Jack Carter. After years of working with the man, it was easy to spot the underlying thought processes that didn't make it into public consumption. And while Jo had always known that, between the two of them, Carter was the better reader of people, there were certain things one picked up in the Special Forces.
Carter, as it so happened, had a tell. Over the years, Jo had realized that when he was holding something back, be it emotion or observation, his hand would stray to fiddle with a wedding ring that was long since gone. Once she'd pieced together his personal history, the compulsive habit had begun to make sense. She'd never mentioned it to him, suspecting that the knowledge would only serve to make him uncomfortable – she was reasonably certain he was oblivious to this habit – and in any case it was a valuable source of information when looking to get one-up on Carter.
As Jo had gotten to know the new Zane better, she'd been surprised and faintly incredulous that for all his supposed brilliance as a hacker and something of a con man, Zane had failed to pick up on this intriguing detail. She was, frankly, a little disappointed in him for being just one more GD scientist who failed to recognize that it took more than any ordinary citizen to make a successful Sheriff of Eureka. It was something that the Zane she'd once known had picked up on within days of his relocation to Eureka.
In the last couple of weeks, though, he'd begun to connect the dots – at this point it'd be hard not to, she supposed – but it was something of a work in progress, not without the occasional relapse. So she let him stew. Let Carter have his fun – Zane would suss this one out eventually, and if she was very, very lucky, she'd get to watch. She had better things to do today than watch Carter needle Zane, however, so she reached out and gave the older man a sharp tap as he snagged another fry, ignoring his cry of protest.
"You had news?" she asked pointedly.
Carter's gaze jerked over to her in response. He gave her a sheepish look, catching the edge to her tone.
"Er… right. Zoe's coming home soon, for her Thanksgiving break." He informed them, almost apologetically. The entire table was silent for a moment, as Jo and Zane processed the news. Zane was the first to break the silence.
"That's good, then. You said you wanted to tell Zoe first, in person, before the news got out, remember?" He prompted Jo. She remembered, all right. She swallowed hard at the sympathy written on Carter's face. He knew better than anyone what it took to regain Zoe's forgiveness, much less gain her trust. Jo forced herself to smile.
"It will be fine," she said firmly, and willed herself to believe it. Zane gave her an encouraging smile, but she glanced away.
"I should get back to work," she said, pushing back her chair just as Vincent arrived with Carter's meal. Zane scrambled out of his seat as well, blatant in both his concern for Jo and his desire to avoid spending any time further than what was strictly necessary with Jack Carter. Carter raised his hands in half-hearted protest.
"Aw, come on!" He complained, grumbling to himself when all he got was an amused look from Jo and an incredulous one from Zane. Fortunately for him, Allison was stepping into the café just as Jo walked out, trailed by Zane. Outside the café, Zane caught Jo's arm and pulled her into a searing kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead against hers after pulling away, their noses brushing.
"It really is going to be fine, you know that, right?" He murmured, running a hand down the length of her silky ponytail in a gesture meant to comfort. Jo sighed and slid her head to the side, her cheek brushing against his, his light stubble scratching at her soft skin.
"I'll see you tonight, Zane," she said, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw and pulling away. He frowned as he watched her walk to her car, his eyebrows knit in consternation, well aware that she'd dodged the question entirely. Eventually he saw her car start and turned away with resignation to head in the opposite direction, in order to reach the parking lot behind the café where his bike currently resided. As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with Vincent, who was deep in conversation with a truck driver at the delivery entrance. Zane dodged at the last minute, crashing instead into a number of precariously stacked crates, several of which hit the ground, their lids popping open. In short order, there were pumpkins rolling everywhere while Vincent watched in dismay. Zane stood up, rubbing his back where he'd landed on the pointy end of a wooden crate. Vincent rounded on the hitherto unidentified perpetrator, bent on giving him a tongue lashing he would never forget (or at least trying to), until he recognized Zane and stopped short. Zane, for his part, forewent his typical intimidation session.
"What on earth are you doing with all these pumpkins?" He asked instead, his tone slightly incredulous. Vincent gave him an odd look.
"Halloween is in less than a week," Vincent pointed out, a little confused. "I have to decorate – and my menu will be stocked full of pure pumpkin-y goodness!" He added rapturously, forgetting momentarily who he was talking to as he closed his eyes at the very thought of all the spiced pumpkin desserts he would make: missing, consequentially, the way Zane went suddenly quite still at his announcement, his face turning into a blank mask.
When Vincent opened his eyes again only seconds later, Zane was already in the middle of the parking lot, straddling his motorcycle. Vincent blinked with surprise.
"Hey, aren't you at least going to help me with these pumpkins?" He demanded as Zane put his key in the ignition.
"Afraid not," Zane said tersely. Vincent opened his mouth to protest but found himself drowned out as Zane revved the engine and drove off without another word. Vincent watched him go, shaking his head.
"Goodness knows what it is Jo sees in him," the stocky chef muttered to himself as he knelt on the pavement to begin gathering pumpkins. "No discernible manners, utterly inconsiderate to others…"
Zane reached his apartment in record time, no doubt breaking a speed limit or two along the way. He burst into his apartment, tossing his wallet on the first available surface, and tore into his home office like the hounds of hell were on his heels. He made a beeline for his desk, pushing papers and other assorted detritus aside in search of his calendar. When the calendar was finally revealed, Zane peered at it for a moment before rocking back on his heels, stunned.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Zane had forgotten Halloween entirely, and he'd be lying if he claimed that not for one moment did that give him pause. Zane had always had a near fetishistic love for the autumn, having grown up amongst classic New England autumns around the suburbs of Boston. He loved the crisp oranges and the rich reds of the leaves; the tart flavor of fresh apple cider; the hint of wood smoke in the air; even the way the leaves crunched under his feet. For him, Halloween had always represented the peak of the season. Thanksgiving stood in stark contrast to Halloween as a reminder of everything gone wrong in his family, the absence of his father from their dinner table plainly apparent.
Zane perched on the arm of his computer chair, contemplating. It was the first time, in the two months of exhilaration and uncertainty that had followed Jo's announcement, that Zane had really stopped to think about what it was to which he had actually agreed, and the reality of his situation was staggering. He sank from the arm onto the seat of the chair, staring blankly at his desk calendar as the enormity of what he'd done finally hit him. When he'd agreed to their little charade, he'd barely thought five minutes ahead, much less the whole nine months. In the last two months he'd spent all his time reacting to events, rather than analyzing them. But what Zane recognized now was that, in essence, what he'd done that day was pledge his life to Jo Lupo. He was the father of this child, for better or for worse, and that wasn't going to change when the baby was born. And while the status of his relationship with Jo wasn't exactly crystal clear, this much was certain: they were in a relationship of some kind. That ring around her neck had might as well be on her finger, the way things stood between them. If he was honest with himself, Zane wasn't sure he hated the thought.
He could have said no. He knew that. It wouldn't have been pretty and he wouldn't have been proud afterwards, but Zane knew it could have been done. Certainly it was what the Jo Lupo he remembered would have expected from him. He knew now that Jo – this Jo, at least – would never have held him accountable for a child he couldn't even remember conceiving, and he was confident she would have come up with some kind of plan in the end. But there was one thing Zane Donovan would never be, and that was a coward. Brave? Not precisely. Bravery was suggestive of noble deeds and courageous acts, liable to get you killed and best left to men like Jack Carter. Foolhardy, perhaps. Reckless? Always, and a bit of an adrenaline junkie, besides, (and wasn't that an excellent quality for a father-to-be, sneered a little voice in the back of his head that was strongly reminiscent of Dr. Isaac Parrish), but never a coward. In any case, he'd given his word now, and he wasn't the type to back out of a promise made in good faith.
So Zane would do this thing, even if it seemed to have tipped his world on its axis. He would eat lunch with Carter, face down Jo when the restrictions on her lifestyle sent her into a rage, and make his apologies to Zoe even though they'd never really dated to begin with. He would do all of this and more, and if it occasionally derailed him from things that had once seemed important – raising hell on Halloween, for instance – then so be it. Perhaps the most alarming thing of all was the way he no longer seemed to mind the prospect of missing out on Halloween. Lately, it seemed, there were better and brighter things to occupy his time – 'things' whose eyes lit up just a little when he entered the room – and in the end, there seemed to be no contest at all.
The following Sunday found Jo curled up in front of the television, a bowl of candy corn and a bag of licorice on the coffee table in front of her. Her eyes were fixed on the guilty pleasure television show in front of her when a firm knock sounded on her front door. Jo furrowed her brows, glancing at the window in the kitchen to confirm the time: not quite dusk. Unless things were, for whatever inexplicable reason, different in this Eureka, Jo had no reason to expect trick-or-treaters for at least another hour.
Casting a regretful glance at the television screen – the ominous music in the background was intensifying, portending the imminent occurrence of Something Bad onscreen – Jo pried herself off the sofa. She grabbed the bowl of candy stationed strategically along her path to the door, expecting, given the early hour, to find a particularly young child behind the door, a parent in tow.
She opened the door to find that the words were (roughly) what she'd expected, but the person to speak them was not.
"Trick or treat, Jo-Jo," Zane said, leaning against the railing of her front step with a faint smirk gracing his lips. She blinked, still somewhat surprised. She hadn't expected to see him at all tonight, had in fact assumed he'd be out terrorizing Carter - besides which, it wasn't even one of their usual nights. She glanced back to the television, hesitating. Zane took her silence for permission, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, and stepped inside, grabbing a handful of candy from her bowl as he did. Jo narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to protest, but he easily anticipated her words and cut her off.
"Price of my presence," he informed her cheerily as he stole her spot on the sofa. Jo prepared to make a retort with regards to her utter indifference about his presence or absence, but froze as he settled in on her sofa. She hadn't really been expecting any company tonight – certainly hadn't planned on Zane catching her with a favorite guilty pleasure. For a moment her mind raced as she contemplated the best way to distract him before he noticed… Jo's train of thought derailed abruptly as she noticed the little smirk building on Zane's face as his eyebrows rose slowly to his forehead, eyes fixed on the screen.
"This is some high quality viewing material you've got here," he said, tone indicating his skepticism. Jo flushed involuntarily and tilted her chin upwards with defiance.
"It is Halloween," she reminded him mutinously. Zane, unsurprisingly, failed to take the bait and merely smiled at her in that infuriatingly knowing way of his before turning his eyes back to the screen, where someone was dying an excessively gruesome death. After a brief moment of hesitation, Jo took the seat next to him on the couch. She quickly found herself drawn back into the story playing out on her screen, but eventually she could no longer avoid sneaking a glance at Zane. Jo smirked to herself when she saw him flinch in response to a blow taken on the screen, his body tense from the suspenseful moment.
But the drama on the screen in front of them only held Zane's attention for so long, predictable as he found it, and in short order Jo found herself jumping a little in surprise as his hand snaked its way into her lap and began drawing circles lazily on her inner thigh. At first Jo managed to ignore it, but in no time at all she found herself squirming from the effect his touch was eliciting from her. She shot him a dirty look, but he had his best poker face on, his eyes fixed on the screen before him. Jo gritted her teeth, glancing fretfully at the clock – it was almost sunset, surely there would be trick-or-treaters arriving at any minute? – and squirmed away. But at the first hint of motion, Zane's hand tightened over her thigh, leaving her effectively trapped. Now that he knew he had her full attention, Zane leaned over and lightly whispered in her ear.
"Where are you going, Jo-Jo?" His warm breath tickled the tiny hairs lining her inner ear, and Jo shivered reflexively.
"Zane – " she began hotly, intending to inform him in no uncertain terms why nothing he did was going to get him what it was he seemed to be aiming for, when the doorbell rang and cut her off midsentence. Jo let out a deep sigh and Zane groaned with his annoyance, leaning in to nip delicately at the lobe of her ear and making her twitch a little before he transferred his attentions to the nook where her shoulders met her neck.
"Stay here," he murmured, tempting her badly. "Stay here, forget the kids, forget the candy. We can have the candy and this whole couch to ourselves." He pressed a few hot kisses up her neck, making Jo inhale sharply and press herself against him reflexively. Zane was just beginning to think the battle was won for good when the doorbell rang again.
Jo disentangled herself from Zane's grasp with a smile which was not quite apologetic, and went to open the door. His eyes trailed her across the room. She swung open the front door to reveal a trio of children, a pair of identical twins and one younger child.
"Trick or treat!" They chorused, making Jo's slightly forced smile grow a bit more genuine as she recalled with amusement Zane's arrival on her doorstep only an hour before.
"We're a double helix!" Chirped one of the twins, which, Jo noted, did in fact appear to be linked together. A double helix, indeed. She glanced at the patient-looking woman standing just behind the group, no doubt the one responsible for putting together the costumes, then looked down at the younger child, whose head was wreathed with glowing tubing.
"And what are you?" Jo asked the younger boy lightly. He looked up and gave her a shy smile, revealing the gap of a missing tooth. A stray glowing tube dangled in front of his face.
"I'm Aequorea victoria!" He announced with pride, stumbling slightly over the Latin pronunciation. Jo's eyes softened, and, before she could think better of it, she knelt before the little boy and brushed his 'tentacle' away from his eyes. Zane felt his breath catch in his throat from where he watched on the couch, unable to resist imagining Jo – Jo, and a tousle-haired little boy of their own.
"You sure are," Jo affirmed for the little boy, smiling with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Now, how about I get the three of you some candy?" There was, naturally, a veritable thunder of approval from all three children. Jo's smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners with her pleasure. She turned to reach for the bowl of candy on the nearby table and froze when she caught Zane's intent gaze upon her. It was like looking straight into two bright blue searchlights, and she very nearly fumbled the bowl before she was able to offer it to the children before her.
Once the candy had been distributed and they'd said their goodbyes, Jo shut the door behind their departing backs, turning as she did to face Zane where he sat on her couch.
"What?" She asked defensively, in response to his steady gaze. Zane favored her with a small smile, tinged with contemplation. His eyes drifted to the carefully disguised curve of her stomach.
"Do you ever wonder what it will be like?" He asked quietly, his keen blue eyes still studying her. Jo gaped slightly in surprise then snapped her mouth shut, rendered temporarily speechless. She padded slowly, almost warily, back to the couch and sat down next to him.
"I – sometimes." She said hesitantly. "Most of the time I just wonder how we'll be able to pull it off – to fool the entire town." Zane grinned at her, his bright eyes lit with mischief.
"The way you keep throwing yourself at me in public, Jo-Jo, I don't think it should be so hard to believe." Jo felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment, remembering being caught by Vincent only a few days prior in the small parking lot behind Café Diem, pressed against her car and wrapped in an embrace with Zane which was so heated it verged on indecent. She gave Zane a half playful, half annoyed shove.
"Don't be an ass," she muttered. He wrapped an arm around her, his low chuckle rumbling through his chest, vibrating lightly where he was pressed against her shoulder. Jo rolled her eyes but leaned into him with reluctant pleasure. They were silent for a moment or two.
"That could be us in a year or two, you know." Zane said finally. "Trick-or-treating, carving pumpkins, making costumes." Jo closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, trying to imagine it. She could feel her heart speed up just a little at the thought. She took a deep breath, beating back her sudden anxiety, and focused on the image of a mini Zane wandering the streets of Eureka in search of candy. Her lips twitched with amusement at the thought – what a little terror he would be! – and she shot a quick glance at the man beside her, hiding a smirk.
"He'd have a Marine costume, of course," she suggested casually. Zane frowned, and a less charitable person might have called it a pout.
"I was thinking Einstein," He suggested, his tone attempting to be enticing. This time it was Jo's turn to smirk.
"You know, Fargo was Einstein for Founder's Day – you really want to give Fargo and your unborn child something in common?" Jo asked, looking up at Zane with eyebrows raised. Zane shuddered dramatically and looked down at her.
"Marine it is, then." Jo grinned. "I suppose you'll be wanting to carve the pumpkins too, what with your great prowess with the use of a knife." Zane guessed. Jo snorted indelicately.
"Please. There's a huge difference between carving people and carving pumpkins." She declared. Zane pursed his lips into a thoughtful moue before they quirked into a lopsided grin.
"You know, that was just as hot as it was disturbing." He informed her. Jo gave him a smug little smile and turned back to face the television, still secure in his arms.
"Yep." She agreed, popping the 'p' sound at the end with satisfaction. She paused, her smile turning wistful.
"When I was a kid, we used to have to get a bunch of pumpkins, because every year my Dad would insist on trying to carve a pumpkin, but he usually just ended up mutilating the thing. My mother always made up for it by carving a few good ones…" Jo trailed off, lost in thought, then glanced at Zane with a questioning light in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak before hesitating and snapping it back shut again. The motion didn't go unnoticed.
"What?" He asked. Jo gave him a considering look.
"I was going to ask what you used to do for Halloween." She admitted. Zane raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Shouldn't you know already? You seem to know it all – birthday, social security number, clothing sizes, boxers or briefs – okay, well maybe that one is my fault too – but really, it's enough to make a guy feel stalked…" He finished, smirking. Jo narrowed her eyes at him, twisting around to punch him in the shoulder with just enough force to make a point.
"Ow! Hey! What was that for?" Jo rolled her eyes.
"Don't be an ass!" She chided him.
"It was a legitimate question!" He protested. Jo gave him a meaningful look.
"Which… could have been phrased better." Zane conceded, rubbing his shoulder. Jo eyed the motion.
"Baby." She muttered.
"Sadist." He accused. She gave him a snide smile and he subsided, muttering to himself. After a moment or two had passed, Jo sighed.
"He – you – well, we never talked much about your childhood," she said uncertainly. "It seemed like a sensitive subject." Zane shrugged dismissively.
"Ancient history, really." He glanced at her, trying to gauge her response. "The typical story. Dad ran off when I was five, my Mom and my grandmother raised me. Until I left for MIT, that is," Zane added, as if conceding a point. Jo reflexively raised a hand to finger the chain around her neck. "The hero is the one that stays, after all," he said absently, as if speaking to himself.
A moment passed as the two of them sat there, quiet and deep in thought. Finally Zane turned to Jo, his face unusually solemn. When he spoke, his voice was low and full of intensity.
"I'll be there, Jo. I told you I would do this – all of this – and I meant every word of it. You can trust me." His eyes never left hers as he spoke.
"Thank you," Jo said faintly. She was about to speak again, though to say what she wasn't sure, when the doorbell rang, startling them both. With a sigh, Jo pushed herself off the couch and opened the door, greeting the group of trick-or-treaters and conversing with them briefly. As she offered them the bowl of candy, Zane slid off the couch behind her and crossed the room to stand next to her. The woman supervising the group of children at the door looked at him curiously. He was infamous in this town, after all, and no doubt she'd heard much of the latest gossip – and some of the old gossip as well, for that matter. He gave her a polite but disinterested smile, wrapping an arm around Jo's waist and waving as the little group walked off. Jo closed the door and twisted in his arms to face them.
"Alright," she said, laughter in her voice. "What's your angle?" Zane cocked his head, a little grin materializing on his face.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Josefina." He answered, deadpan. Jo declined to dignify that with a response, limiting herself instead to an incredulous look. Zane responded by pulling her flush against him, brushing her hair aside and whispering in her ear.
"Lose the candy, Jo-Jo," he murmured. "Leave it on the front step, leave the light on. The kids won't care." She pulled back, resisting with no little determination.
"That's such a cop-out, Zane," Jo protested. He kissed the delicate skin beneath her ear and she shuddered, closing her eyes involuntarily.
"Come on now, Jo-Jo," he teased. "This may very well be the last Halloween when you have time to engage in… adult recreation." Jo cracked open her eyes to give him a speculative look.
"You know, when you put it that way…" she began, sidling away from him to open the door once more and place the plastic bowl of candy on the well –lit front step. A brisk breeze ruffled his hair as Jo shut the door just a little too quickly, and Zane grinned.
"I knew you'd see reason," he proclaimed, and swept her into his arms in one swift motion. Jo groaned.
"Zane, for the love of God, I will tase you," she warned him, smacking the palm of her hand against his chest for emphasis. "Put me down!"
"Hmm, kinky tonight, are we?" Jo made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, though her glare was negated somewhat by the possessive way she was twining her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.
"Sometimes you are just too much for words, Zane Donovan," she murmured, almost to herself.
"Fortunately for you, nonverbal communication is a specialty of mine." Zane said, smirking. Jo laughed, the sound deep and throaty and making all the blood in Zane's body rush south. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard, before slipping out of his arms and moving to the bedroom door where she paused and glanced back. Zane's breath caught in his throat at the mischievous light in her eyes, knowing it was just for him.
In that moment, Zane recognized that nothing in his life had ever scared him quite the way that the mere possibility of disappointing Jo Lupo did. And he knew it was only a matter of time. Still – he took a deep breath, and stepped up.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Eureka. Nor do I own the not-named but kinda obvious tv show mentioned above. I think Jo would be a fan (and besides Erica Cerra was on it a week ago! Which is actually a total coincidence, but, you know, whatever.)
A/N: You cannot possibly be happier to read this chapter than I am to be done with it. Seriously. Please accept my sincerest apologies! And my congratulations to any of the Class of 2011 reading this, college or otherwise! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter - I have lost all perspective about how good/not good it is because I have read it so many times.
Also, for anyone wondering, Aequoria victoria is the jellyfish from which green fluorescent protein was isolated to do all kinds of awesome things for science. I'm going to go ahead and assume you know what a double helix is.