Chapter Two: Sway

It starts slow, and it's really no surprise that it does. They've both been hurt before and both of them are a little awkward in romance, so it really is no great shock that they are wary when it comes to matters of the heart.

They go on one date, two dates. Steaks and shooting, what could be better?

Three dates, four dates. They have lunch together. Quiet conversation and smiles over toasted sandwiches and coffee (well, coffee for him, soda for her).

Date five, he takes her out for dinner again. He dresses nicely and brings her flowers (O'Hara assures him that he can't go wrong with roses). Elizabeth smiles and thanks him; the evening is spent pleasantly chatting about her family and his work, as well as nearly everything in between. It's about this time when he really starts to think of her as his girlfriend (the thought makes him grin like an idiot all the way home).

They take the physical part of the relationship slow as well. They kiss a lot and maybe make-out (just a little), but he never presses for more, and neither does she. They both know from experience that sex has a way of complicating relationships, and they want this one to be strong enough to overcome all obstacles when it does happen.

More dates. Elizabeth gets him to go to the movies with her, even though it really isn't his cup of tea. The best part of these dates is that afterward, they find a cafe and discuss the movie they've seen. (Conversation is usually best when the movie is bad, because then they can spend the whole time mocking it together).

After awhile, she starts inviting him over to her house. Nothing too special. Just take-out and movie marathons from her couch. He feels like a gawky teenager the first time he puts his arm around her shoulders, but she smiles in encouragement and leans her head against his chest.

He likes this very much.

It isn't long before he feels himself falling, slowly. Elizabeth makes him open and honest. She smooths the edges of his rough personality with reassuring words and soft kisses to his cheek. Oh, he's still gruff Carlton Lassiter – a damn good detective and a no-nonsense kind of guy, but he's...happy. Way happier than he's been in a really, really long time.

Three months of a steady relationship pass, a series of firsts and getting-to-know-you conversations that never feel forced.

O'Hara is over the moon about this. Carlton sees her beaming at him when she thinks he's not looking. She questions him every Monday morning, asks him what he did over the weekend. He knows she's fishing for details over his latest date. He is indebted to her for setting him up with Elizabeth, so he allows the questions and gives her answers to pretty much everything she wants to know.

However, if anyone besides O'Hara comments on his new, slightly more cheerful disposition, they get a swift reality check.

"You've sure been in a good mood lately, Detective Lassiter," comments Buzz one afternoon.

Carlton scowls at the lanky officer. "I'd be in a helluva lot better mood if you'd get me that suspect list. You know, the one I asked you for like, an hour ago. Dammit McNab, you're slacking!"

Carlton smirks as McNab jumps slightly and quickly shuffles away.

Not everything changes just because he has a girlfriend...

Another couple of months pass, and he finds himself at her home once again. It's really quite common by now. There's a nearly-empty pizza box on her coffee table, and his legs are stretched in front of him as he sits on her couch. He's flipping through television channels, and she's got her head resting on his lap as she reads a magazine. He finds it a little telling that even though they're not actually doing anything together, he'd still rather be here than anywhere else.

He stops surfing channels when he finds a baseball game. Rockies versus Padres.

This will work for now...

"Do you dance, Carlton?" asks Elizabeth suddenly, and she looks up at him from her place on his leg.

He would think the question was completely out of nowhere if he couldn't see what was on the pages of her magazine: an article about Dancing with the Stars.

Of course he doesn't dance. Why would she even think he might?

"I don't dance," he gruffs out, keeping his answer as short as possible. He really hopes she didn't expect him to take her out dancing. He'd just make a fool of himself. Carlton Lassiter doesn't dance.

Elizabeth sits up and looks over at him. "You don't dance...ever?"

"Ever." he assures her.

She crinkles her nose and narrows her eyes. "Not even in the privacy of my house?"

And before he can even answer, she stands up and goes over to her laptop. She clicks some things that he can't see from this vantage point.

"What are you -"

The sounds of music interrupt his sentence and thought processes. Oh no, he thinks. He can register nothing besides the soft melody of the slow song that now permeates his brain.

She practically bounces back over to him, grinning wickedly. She gently pries the remote from his grasp and turns the television off with it. Then she grabs him by the hand and pulls him to his feet.

She leads him over to the area behind her couch, where there is more room to move.

"Liz, I don't-"

"Come on, Carlton. Dancing is sexy," she teases, giving him a wink.

She grabs his arm and wraps it around herself so that his hand settles on the small of her back. She takes his left hand in her own and pulls herself closer to him, so that their bodies practically meld together. After that, all forms of protest die in his throat. He's suddenly enjoying this too much to care. Her right hand finds its way to his back. She clings to him and begins to lead. Small step to the left. Back. Small step to the right. Back.

He is a statue in her arms. "Carlton," she warns, with just the tiniest hint of irritation in her voice.

"I can't-"

"Follow my steps. It's just a slow song, nothing fancy." she reassures him.

He does what she says, a little awkwardly at first, but he finds the pattern and masters it. They rotate and sway together, and once she's sure that he's figured out what he's doing, she rests her head against his chest. He can smell her shampoo, the scent something fruity and entirely too intoxicating. Plus, he likes the way her body moves so easily with his, likes the feel of her in his arms.

"Okay," he admits, and she's honestly the only person in the world that could change his mind, "Maybe dancing isn't so bad."

She laughs into his shirt; he swears he can feel the vibrations of it in his heart. "God, I love you." she murmurs.

It takes a full three seconds for him to register the implications of this moment. This is the first time she's said those words to him. He honestly can't even remember the last time anyone said that to him, and especially not like that...

Those three words have always scared him senseless.

But he thinks about Elizabeth and how he would do anything for her. He thinks about the way she makes him laugh, makes him happy, makes him feel...complete.

And he's not scared anymore.

"I love you too," he says quietly. The words seem foreign in his mouth, but they feel so right and perfect and true that it doesn't matter. "I'm in love with you," he repeats, because he likes the way it sounds.

She sighs contentedly, looks up to meet his eyes. He tilts his head down to meet hers, captures her lips in a soft, sweet, perfect kiss. It deepens and lasts, electricity sparking between them and he sees stars and fireworks and every cliché thing in the book.

It comes as no great surprise to either of them when, for the first time ever, she invites him to stay for the night.

A/N: All I can say is that Lassie's a stud, and I love him. Reviews are golden and much appreciated.