Author's note: I am so sorry it took me this long to post this next chapter. It's not even good. I've lost the bug for this story ever since the show moved ahead of my storyline (Right after "O" mouth). I have done everything to try to get it back. I even made a Mike/Paige picture slideshow (seriously, it's on youtube, you can find it). So finally I just banged out this pathetic chapter and I'm posting it. Luckily the last three chapters were basically already written beforehand, and I kind of love them. So those should be out soon.

Thanks: Thanks for all the words of encouragement, the PM's, the reviews, the favorites. Thanks to my beta. Thanks for your patience.

Skinny Double Dirty Chai

Chapter 13

Paige throws her hair back, laughing flirtatiously, and crossing her near naked legs so her skirt slides seductively up half an inch. The man whose lap she is occupying ogles her openly, obviously appreciating her party girl show. His hand rests on her knee, and he leans in so close, she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

Scott Grayter has to be the biggest tool she has ever met in her entire life. She's spent the entire night perched on his lap, laughing at his vapid trust fund stories, and pretending to be impressed by his big man on campus attitude. She realizes that even if she nails this guy, his daddy's overpaid lawyer will guarantee he never sees jail time, but at least it should ruin his plans to become president. Plus, he's the closest link she has to a new drug supplier that seems to have monopolized the local campus crowd.

She takes another sip from the same beer bottle she's been refilling with water all night. She has been flirting to postpone shooting up with heroin. She knows she can incriminate this guy tonight and close one of the biggest college drug rings in California, but she needs to "shoot up" to get it done, and she doesn't have her hemoglobin kit.

Her eyes covertly scan the room for Charlie, but widen when she sees who's standing in the doorway. Mike is staring straight at her, looking as out of place in his blazer and t-shirt as he did that first night she saw him at the bar. Her pulse quickens when she sees him. She wasn't prepared to face him yet. From this distance she can't interpret what the emotion is hiding behind his eyes, what he's doing here, or what kind of mood he's in.

She considers ignoring him, staying right where she is in Scott's lap. Mike would have to come over and talk to her then, and he'd have to be civil and keep his cover or else Scott and his friends would probably beat the crap out of him. As appealing as that idea seems, she excuses herself from Scott's lap and makes her way out of the room towards the bathroom. She doesn't have to look behind her to know Mike is following her. She walks into the bathroom, but leaves the door unlocked.

Mike follows her in, turning to lock the door and shut out the pounding noise from the party outside. He turns to face her and he looks pissed. She just glares at him. She refuses to speak first.

"So," Mike says sullenly, "You look like you're having fun."

"And you look out of place." She snaps at him. "What, did Bello decide you needed babysitting lessons so he sent you here?"

"Look, let's just make this quick. Then I'll leave so you can get back to your little 'frat bro'. His lap must be getting cold." Mike says coolly, leaning up against the counter.

"Fine by me. Let's just get this over with, while it's still early enough for you to meet up with Abby. Does she still have a bedtime?" She ignores his rude comment about Scott-the-tool, looking in the mirror and fixing her hair.

"You know it amazes me how even in a house of drunken teenagers, you still manage to be the most immature one here." He's doing that thing Mike does when he's pissed, where he sarcastically says his insult with so much pep, that you'd think he was complimenting you. He is really looking for a fight tonight.

"Whatever stalker. No one asked you to come." Paige rolls her eyes in the mirror, still not giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging his insults.

"Someone had to bring you your hemoglobin stash since you're too chicken shit to come back home and get it yourself. What? You can't even be in the same house as me now?" Mike turns and leans in on the counter aggressively in her direction, trying to get her to look at him. She doesn't turn but meets his glare in the mirror.

"I've been working hard recently. I haven't had that much time to be home." She says casually, putting on a fresh coat of lipstick.

"Oh, don't even pretend this is not about what happened the other night." Mike challenges, clearly not believing her.

"See that's your problem Mike. You read too much into things. Everything I do is not about you." Paige turns and lies straight to his face.

Why couldn't he just let things go? If they could just forget about the fight the other night, things would go back to normal, but it was five days later and they were still having the same fight. She didn't even know what they were fighting about anymore.

"Well maybe if you didn't run away from every damn feeling-"

"Maybe if you stopped letting your feelings get in the way of the job then-" She yells over top of him.

"You're right. We should just forget everything and go back to being nothing more than coworkers." Mike says with a huff of frustration.

"Great. We finally agree on something." Paige is pissed he would even threaten her with that. What is he saying? If she's not willing to marry him, they can't even be friends? She needs out of this bathroom now. "Now shut up and give me the hemoglobin so I can get out of here."

He pushes away from the counter and reaches into his pocket, clearly this conversation was not going the way he had rehearsed, and knowing Mike, he probably had rehearsed.

"Shit."

"What now?" Paige growls.

"I don't have it." Mike admits.

"Perfect. You have one job to do, Levi. When they ask me why I shot up with real heroin, instead of my dupe I'll just explain, Mike forgot my drugs."

She can't believe this. Paige is great at her job dammit. The fact that her personal life is now interfering with her work infuriates her.

"I didn't forget it. Johnny has it." Mike says defensively.

"Johnny has it? Why does Johnny have it? Where's Johnny?"

"He's here somewhere." Mike says, opening the door to the bathroom and walking out into the hallway with Paige following his lead. "Let's just find him, and get this over with."

"Why are you here then? It's not exactly a two person job. Are you seriously that needy?" Paige complains.

"Ok. That's it. We need to talk about this." Mike grabs Paige by the arm, and drags her into a back hallway away from the crowd, near the kitchen.

"Now? Seriously you want to talk about this on the job? I'm working here, Mike." Paige protests as Mike pulls her along.

"When else am I supposed to talk to you about it? You've been avoiding me for a week." Mike demands, turning to face her once they get to a private enough area.

"Well, maybe that fact alone should tell you I don't want to talk about it."

"Look, I'm sorry I even hinted that I might have feelings for you. Believe me, anything I thought I might be feeling is gone now. Are you happy? I now feel absolutely nothing towards you except aggravation." Mike growls quietly, both his hands on the wall next to her head, caging her in so she has no choice but to look at him.

Paige wonders if she could find any way to kick him in the balls and make it look like an accident. It's a small hallway they're standing in, and he's close. Dangerously close. As they both stare at each other, with anger flashing in their eyes, Paige is suddenly not sure if she wants to kick him or kiss him.

"What is that smell?" Mike asks, as a strong sweet scent pervades the hallway.

As a DEA agent Paige recognizes the smell instantly.

"Diethyl Ether."

"Wait, like the stuff they use in Meth?"

"Yes, but it shouldn't be that strong…" Paige says, suddenly in high alert agent mode.

"What does that mean?" Mike asks.

"Run."