Bobby POV

I don't know what I'm doing.

I wish I did.

Not that I've ever really been one to follow rules, but…in this case, I wish there were a rule book.

Or at the very least, a few guidelines because no matter how good at this I once was – and I was very good at it – now I'm a stranger in a strange land.

Because I'm not only dating, but dating my partner.

It started off simply enough.

We went to dinner, after the Harrington case.

And I don't know what made me finally ask her. There've been a number of times over the years when I felt a closeness with her, and I had the urge to ask her out, but I always held back because…well, because she's Eames. She's too good for me.

But after the party at Lady Harrington's, I couldn't stop myself.

Probably because she looked so pretty. I mean, I know she's pretty. I've known that since day one, but sometimes it hits me harder than others.

And that night it hit me hard.

Probably because it was capping off our first case together after my leave, and the entire month I was out of work, I was thinking about her. Not in any kind of perverted sense, but just in general. I'm so used to having her around that when I have a thought, I want her opinion on it, or when I see something questionable, I wait for her cynical observation.

I just like being with her.

Several times during my absence, I thought about asking her out. Not like a date date, but just to get a meal on the pretense of catching up.

But every time I called her, it just didn't feel like the right time.

And then one Friday night I drove to her place, thinking I'd do a casual pop-in.

Big mistake.

What I got was the sight of her, getting into some guy's car.

She was going on a date.

With someone other than me.

I immediately ran the guy's plates.

Todd Markham.

I considered following them, but even I could see the crazy in that thought, so instead I went home. And thought about Eames on her date.

How would it end?

Would she invite him into her home?

Into her bed?

I had absolutely no idea because I don't know that side of Eames. She says I keep things close, but so does she. Hell, she could be bordering on engaged to this Todd guy and I wouldn't have any idea until she shows up at work sporting a diamond ring.

Not even then, because I still wasn't at work.

The thought had me in a complete panic, and it took me a few hours to settle down and analyze my feelings.

And yeah, so I didn't start analyzing until after I did a complete background check on Todd Markham.

No arrests…two speeding tickets in the five-year history…ten years at the same employer, some investment firm on Broad.

A numbers guy….really, Eames? That's the kind of guy you like?

Anyway, once I amassed a dossier on Markham, I spent some time picking apart my emotional state until I was finally able to put a label on it: jealousy.

I don't want Eames dating this guy.

I want Eames dating me.

It's crazy, I know, because she can do so much better than me. Obviously. I mean, Todd Markham held open the car door for her. He touched her on the arm. He smiled at her. When's the last time I smiled at her? Or told her how much I appreciate everything she does for me?

No, I don't do any of that. I just take out my frustrations on her and leave her hanging with the boss and bite her head off when she tries to help.

So to say I had an epiphany during my time off would be fairly accurate.

And I wasn't sure if it would actually work. Asking her out, I mean. I don't know if Eames would ever be interested in me, on a personal level, but I made up my mind that I was going to have to try.

Otherwise, it'll be the biggest regret of my life.

So when I went back to work, I checked my attitude at the door. It's certainly not Eames' fault my mom is sick. It's not my fault either. It's just part of my life right now, and it doesn't have to override everything else.

And maybe I'm over-simplifying it, thinking that my mother's illness might be the only snag in my pursuit of Eames, but I hope not.

I hope I can be the kind of man who can make her happy.

Anyway, the Harrington case went smoothly, and we hit our stride again.

And after the arrest of Ernest Foley…well, like I said, she looked so pretty that I wanted to keep looking at her. Which is why I asked her out for dinner.

It hurt a little that she was surprised by the invitation. It's because I've done such a good job of shutting her out, I reminded myself.

Why, I have no idea because I actually like myself when I'm with her, so why wouldn't I want to spend all of my time with her?

Anyway, we had a nice meal, and then I pushed it further, asking her out on a real date, and she said yes.

That was a week ago, so maybe it's premature of me to say I'm dating my partner, but…that's what I'm going to call it.

It was last Saturday night. Our first date.

I was a little worried about getting a call-out, since we were between cases, but the whole thing went smoothly and neither of our phones rang.

"This is nice," I said to her as we finished off a bottle of wine. "I haven't been on a date in…well, it feels like forever."

And yeah, my comment was meant to provoke a response from her. I wanted to see if she'd admit to going out a couple of weeks ago.

"I know what you mean," she answered, and I felt a flash of disappointment over her dishonesty, and then I felt annoyance with myself because I shouldn't have been stalking her in the first place, and then she spoke again. "Although I did have a couple of dates not too long ago. While you were out on leave."

"Oh, really?" I asked innocently as relief and curiosity washed through me.

"Yeah, but it was…not what I expected."

"How so?"

"I was bored," she said after a moment's deliberation, and I'll admit it. I love that answer. Because I know I have my flaws – a lot of them – but I'm pretty sure I'm not boring.

"Thanks for the heads-up. I'll make sure to keep you entertained," I replied.

She looked at me curiously, like she's trying to figure me out, and then she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, clearly debating her next words.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm just…seeing another side of you."

"Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?"

She held my gaze for so long, her expression completely inscrutable, that for a second, I was afraid she was going to toss her napkin on the table and walk away.

"It's a good thing," she said at last.

I surreptitiously let out the breath I'd been holding, and then we shifted the topic of conversation, and the rest of the evening went really well.

So well in fact that I debated kissing her goodnight.

And I don't mean that I was deciding whether or not I wanted to.

I very much wanted to.

But I wasn't sure how receptive she'd be, and aside from that, it still felt a little strange, getting to know her on such a personal level after working together for so long.

And maybe that doesn't sound right.

I know Eames.

I know her favorite color and what music she likes to listen to and how she hates when the alarm goes off in the morning. I know her favorite food and how she takes her coffee and that she has a secret passion for angst-filled romance movies.

But I don't know how it feels to kiss her.

Well, I didn't then.

I do now.

And I can't help but smile just thinking about it.

It wasn't on that first date, but the next one, on the following night.

That's when I kissed her.

She'd invited me for dinner at her place, so we spent the evening eating a great meal and watching The Notebook, and then she walked me to the door.

"If you tell anyone I cried…" she began, and then she trailed off, leaving her threat implied. But she was smiling as she said it, so I had to tease her.

"Oh, I've already texted everyone in Major Case," I said with feigned innocence, holding out my cell phone and jiggling it in front of her.

She barked out a dubious laugh, but then went serious for a moment.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I was just thinking…what kind of trouble will we be in if someone finds out about us?"

And it's crazy, but as worried as I feel about that exact thing, I also love that she said us.

Like there is an us.

"No more than my usual trouble," I responded and she held my gaze as she nodded slowly.

"So we're really doing this?"

"I think so."

I was going to say more, but words escaped me as I looked at her, standing so close and looking so small and vulnerable and…well, pretty. Again.

So that's when I made my move.

I leaned down – very slowly in case she needed time to pull her gun – and then I pressed my lips against hers, experimentally at first but then as she made some kind of little sound of approval, I wrapped my arms around her and went at it with much more conviction.

Several long, glorious minutes passed before I finally pulled back.

"I'd better go," I said, using will power I didn't know I had.

Because I certainly didn't want to go.

But I'm not going to rush things with Eames. I can't afford to screw it up.

"Are you sure?" she asked, smiling a little as she ran a shaky hand through her hair. It gave my ego quite the boost to see her so effected by the kiss.

"Not really, no," I admitted, chuckling self-consciously as I reached for her hand. "But I don't want to rush it, and have us miss out on any important steps."

We kissed again and then I left on the promise of seeing her at work the next morning.

Then I thought about her all the way home.

It's funny how our dynamic has shifted so dramatically, so suddenly.

And so effortlessly, I thought.

All because I was brave enough to ask her to dinner. Does that mean she's just been waiting for me to say something? Or is she just going along for the ride?

No, Eames doesn't play games.

And kissing her felt so unbelievably natural, like we've kissed thousands of times before. There's no way it was that good without there being feelings involved.

I went to sleep that night thinking about her, and it wasn't until the next morning that I panicked a little, wondering how we'd be at work together after our display of affection the night before.

But we were great.

Of course, we were only doing paperwork since we hadn't been assigned another case yet, but still…we were really, really great all week long.

Friday night – last night – we went out again.

Our third date.

It was almost by unspoken agreement that we'd get together since the weekend had arrived. I think she was looking forward to it as much as me.

"Tonight?" I asked as the work day neared an end.

"Sure," she agreed quickly.

"You want to come over? I'll cook," I offered. "And I'll rent you one of those tear-fests."

"Ha ha," she retorted smartly.

"So that's a yes?"

"I'll bring the wine."

So we spent the evening on my sofa, and unlike last weekend, last night we barely watched any of the movie.

I'd planned to. Really. But as soon as we sat down on the couch – close, so that our legs were touching – I had the urge to kiss her, and just as the thought crossed my mind, she turned to look at me with those golden eyes and I could smell her – shampoo or lotion or something – and I couldn't stop myself.

She didn't seem to mind.

In fact, after a few minutes, she moved onto my lap, helping to negate our height difference while at the same time making my arousal shoot through the roof.

And I'll be honest. I had no idea that Eames was so…sexual.

For years, I never thought of her in that sense. She's just a great partner and a wonderful person and…my friend.

But since I started looking at her differently, I still never considered how much passion she was keeping locked up inside of her, but now I'm thinking about it because I seem to be the one holding the key.

Of course, I'm feeling more amorous than I have in years, too, so it seems like she holds a certain power over me, too. Which is fine.

If there's anyone I trust with my life, love and sanity, it's Eames.

So last night we made out like teenagers. There was a whole lot of touching going on, but all on the outside of the clothes, and as incredible as it felt, it made me wonder how much longer I'll be able to hold out.

Fortunately, I think she's right there with me.

"Maybe the next date, we won't worry about getting a movie," she said playfully as she got ready to leave.

"You want to go out somewhere instead?" I teased.

"No. I want to stay in."

There's no bullshitting with Eames.

"Tomorrow night?"

"It's a date."

But then this morning, we got a call for a new case. A judge was murdered while participating in a re-enactment, out on Governors Island, and Eames and I made an agreement that we should put off dates while we're in the middle of an active investigation.

At least for now. We'll have to play it by ear as to whether or not that's a good idea.

Anyway, we went out to the island and worked the scene. I found myself getting sucked into the thrill of the chase, and I didn't pick up on the fact that Eames was a little off until she said something about it.

"You think she could've been a little more obvious?"

"What? Who?" I asked distractedly as we headed back to the car.

"Your ballistics expert."

"My ballistics expert?" I repeated, and that's when it hit me that I'd missed something.

"I think if you'd given her a few more minutes, she would've told you how Oswald pulled off the shot from the sixth floor of the book depository."

I barked out a laugh, and then realized she was still looking at me with a blank expression.

"Are you serious? You think she was flirting with me?"

"I know she was."

"And you're…jealous?" I asked in surprise.

She held my gaze for another beat, and then sighed heavily.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"I wasn't thinking about anything but this case," I assured her.

"Okay."

"And Eames," I said as I leaned over, crowding myself into her personal space. "You have no reason whatsoever to be jealous."

But I like that she is. That has to mean something, right? It means that she cares about what happens with us, and she doesn't like the idea of someone else infringing upon her territory. Meaning me.

Yeah, I definitely like that.

"Sorry," she said apologetically as we hesitated outside the vehicle. "I shouldn't have let it bother me. We're working. And this case…it's going to be difficult enough, isn't it? The media is going to have a field day."

"Uh huh," I said with a nod. "So what do you think of Maureen Pagolis?"

"You mean do I think she has something to do with the judge's murder? No, definitely not."

Although I'm not so sure.

For the next few days, Eames and I butted heads a little over the case.

"How come Maureen stays married to Pagolis no matter how many times he cheats on her, or gets indicted," she said in irritation.

"Like my mother would say, you know, if she stays in it, she must be getting something out of it."

"Maybe Maureen's loyal to a fault."

That snippet stuck in my head because I kind of wondered if we were talking about the two of us.

Eames stays with me no matter how many times I treat her badly or get her into trouble…and maybe she's loyal to a fault.

But that would also mean that she thinks she's getting something out of our partnership, right?

I hope so.

And I hope that my attempt to turn over a new leaf is making her not depend so much on loyalty. Like maybe she's staying because she wants to.

Of course, maybe she really was only talking about Maureen, who knows?

Anyway, I like how we've been working the case, in the sense that we're still honest with each other, even if we disagree.

But I don't like it because we're working so much that there's no down-time for us to make sure we're still okay with each other.

And as new as this thing between us is, that's a little disconcerting.

So it was kind of nice when a turn in our investigation gave us an evening out.

"You've probably noticed that we have a tail on Mr. Pagolis," I told Dave O., the chauffeur. "It's only a matter of time."

"Fine then. Tell your guys to stick close. It's Wednesday night. Mr. Pagolis? He's a creature of habit."

He got in his car, so I turned to Eames and found her looking at me with the closest thing to a smile I've seen in days.

"You got plans for the night?" she asked.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking of what I'd like to be doing rather than tailing Pagolis, and then that thought caught me off guard. Since when do I think about my personal life before a case?

Since last weekend, I decided.

"Bobby?" she questioned.

"I was just thinking about what kind of plans I'd like to have for tonight," I admitted.

"Tailing a slime-ball player while he cheats on his wife doesn't float your boat?" she teased, but I also noticed that her smile got bigger.

"Maybe we reconsider our no-dating-during-a-case rule."

"Maybe," she agreed. "But tonight…"

"Yeah, I know."

We sat outside the restaurant where Pagolis and his lady friend were having dinner, and I'll admit it.

My mind was on Eames.

"You ready to go in? They're finishing up," she said, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yeah," I said, but when I didn't make any move to get out of the car, she turned back and looked at me, and I have no excuse for what I did next.

I kissed her.

"Sorry," I said unremorsefully when I pulled back after the brief yet intense display.

"No you're not," she said with a grin.

"You're right. I'm not."

"Are you ready now?" she asked in amusement.

"Yeah, let's go."

That was Wednesday night.

On Thursday, we had to interview Maureen again. I know it's upsetting to Eames, to see her role model going through such a difficult time, but we still have to go where the leads take us.

And the further we went, the more it seemed like Maureen wasn't as clueless as she claimed.

And I know Eames isn't mad at me about the way things are shaping up, but I still feel like we're not quite right, and I'd like to be able to comfort her, to show her that I understand her feelings.

But there just hasn't been time. Or at least, not for anything more than sympathetic looks.

She deserves more than that.

I want to give her more than that.

But first we brought in Pagolis for an interview, and that's when we learned that Maureen was bugging her husband.

Highly unethical and illegal, but getting her to admit it might be difficult.

"She probably won't own up to having them," Ross reasoned.

"Well, tell her if she doesn't, then we'll subpoena them and we'll leak it to the press."

"So Pagolis kills the judge out of jealousy and we persecute her for taping him?" Eames asked in annoyance.

"Something like that," Ross stated.

But it's not just the tapes. Why would Pagolis use his own phone to set up a hit, knowing it was being recorded?

I hated to even suggest it, but what if Maureen is involved in this even more than we thought?

Of course, when I hinted at it, Eames clammed up.

She probably knows I'm right to suggest it, but it doesn't make it any easier for her to take.

We decided to go back to the hotel restaurant, to talk to the coat-check girl, and Eames was quiet throughout the drive.

"You know this isn't how I want for this to go," I said softly.

"You've been looking at her from the beginning," she retorted.

"I've been looking at everyone," I clarified. "You were trying not to look at her."

"You think I let my judgment get clouded?"

"I'm not saying that."

"Then you're saying…what?"

"I'm saying sometimes it's tough to consider that someone you admire could be capable of bad things."

She didn't respond, and I didn't say anything more, but when we got into the hotel bar and found that we'd have some time to kill, I promptly ordered a Scotch.

Eames was on the phone with Ross, getting an update about the tapes, but I was ready to just be done with the case because I don't like this tension between us. I want to get back to how we were last Friday night – on my couch with her in my lap and my hands all over her.

"Vodka martini, double, easy on the vermouth," she told the bartender as soon as she hung up the phone.

She's definitely looking for a respite from the reality of the case, too.

"That was the captain," she said. "He threatened to go public and she caved on the tapes. You happy now?"

"I want Pagolis to go down, but not if he didn't do it."

"Either way she'll go down now. You know this'll leak out. Her career's ruined."

"Well then she shouldn't have bugged him. She should've left him."

She dropped her gaze, looking down at the bar, and I know she knows I'm right, but sometimes being right isn't enough.

"Are we alright?" I asked, and I love that it only took a second for her to meet my gaze as a slow smile spread across her face, and I know I keep saying it, but she's just so pretty.

"I hope so," she said with a nod.

I let out a relieved breath that I didn't know I'd been holding.

I hope so, too, I thought.

And I hope the coat-check girl never shows.

I could sit here and stare at her all night.

Or better yet, get us a room and go upstairs…

TBC…