A/N: I know, more post-break up angst and not fluffy, smutty happiness. I promise I'm getting to it. I'll even promise that my next piece will be part of the Tango series. Ya'll keep pesterin' about it.

Okay

"I'm not okay with this."

Grace blinked, holding her door jam harder as she regarded the man on the other side of it. She cocked her head at his angry expression.

"Not okay with what?"

Not waiting for an invitation, Rigsby simply stepped into her apartment, his eyes not leaving hers as his presence pushed her back into her entryway. He closed the door behind him without looking. Instead, he gestured to her.

"This." His hand moved up and down, indicating her clothes. "I'm not okay with it."

She huffed in annoyance as she looked down at herself. A grey suit. Black dress shirt. Knee-length skirt. Bare feet since it was late and she'd kicked her heels off once she'd gotten home. She looked back up at him and lifted her brows in overt confusion. "What is your problem, Rigsby? You don't like my suit? That's why you're here at 9:30 at night? To tell me that you don't-,"

"I hate it," he clarified with a rougher voice, moving towards her slowly.

She took an involuntary step back. She didn't get his game. She didn't get it and she didn't like it. Her glare grew colder at his vague, pissy attitude. "Then get out."

He flinched, his eyes going rounder at the idea of leaving, but only momentarily. Anger built up quickly and hot in his stare. "I've never seen it before. I have no idea where you got it. Or why. Or how much you paid for it. Or why you chose it over something else."

She groaned in frustration, lifting two fingers to rub her temples as she closed her eyes. "Wayne, please. Just leave. I don't know what you're playing at, but I-,"

He stepped directly into her space and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently. The fabric's weave was tight, but smooth. His fingers recorded its texture by rolling in circles. The contact seemed to pacify him considerably. His eyes softened as he whispered, "I didn't even know how good it feels against you." Suddenly his old, yearning expression appeared and Grace felt herself melt in its presence. "And I'm not okay with that," he reiterated.

Grace bit her lips and refused to back away from his closeness. She couldn't let him see how much it got to her by retreating. Instead, she retaliated. "I'm not okay with your aftershave."

His brow contracted. Now it was his turn to feel confused. "Why? It's the same I always wear."

Still biting her lip, she nodded. "Exactly. You smell like you used to. Like when you came home to me."

She saw the confusion leave him. Without a word, his spine went straighter. It pushed him more into her space. He didn't let her go as he spoke. "I'm not okay with your hair," he challenged softly. He reached up and caught a piece of it, looping it around his index finger. "You've cut it recently. Only about two inches. I didn't notice right away because you wore it up for five days straight."

Grace inhaled sharply at his perfect recall. He lowered slightly. Just a fraction. "I'm not okay with that."

She pushed her lower lip up, fighting the laugh and the cry that tried to escape together. "I'm not okay with the three personal days you took two weeks ago."

He didn't react. She snorted angrily and pushed at the few remaining inches between them, wanting him to feel her anger. "I had no idea where you went."

"I'm not okay with the fact that you leave at 5:00 exactly on Thursdays. It drives me fucking crazy. What the hell is so important that you have to leave right then?" His pitch was getting rougher. His grip was getting tighter.

Grace heard it. She felt it. It only pushed her buttons more. "I'm not okay with the fact that you're getting stronger. Your clothing hangs differently. Your body is changing, but I can't see how." A deep pull in her belly made half of her sentence a groan.

An aggressive spark flashed in his eyes. "I'm not okay with how men look at you in the office."

"I'm not okay with you letting them."

"I am not," he hissed low, "okay with you living your life without me."

Grace shoved his hands off her shoulders. "I am not okay with you coming in here and starting this shit all over again."

His rebuffed hands shot up and cupped her cheeks softly. His anger left him the moment he touched her skin. He could never, ever stay angry when he touched her. His eyes pleaded softly. "I'm not okay."

She waited for him to finish, only to realize that he had.

She sniffed and didn't push him away again. "I'm not okay." Her voice cracked as tears threatened.

He pulled her close, his hands running wild over her suit jacket. "When did you buy this?" he asked into her hair.

She sniffed again and choked on a laugh. "Last weekend. My others felt too warm in the humidity."

"You look beautiful," he murmured and kissed her hair. "I've wanted to tell you that all day."

She buried her face into his shirt and sighed shakily. "Thanks."