A/N: This was something I wrote for wolfmusic218's birthday. :) Carter being dead and all that BS? Not happening here.

"Stalking on private property, huh?" Joss Carter slid into the passenger seat of the Cadillac before closing the door, missing the slight smile that slid across her companion's face. "Security doesn't play around here."

"I'm just a lost guy looking for a friend's house." John Reese lowered the monocular from his face momentarily and glanced in her direction before resuming his spying.

"By sitting here with binoculars." She nodded. "That's gonna go over well." Carter shifted in her seat, making herself more comfortable as her line of sight followed his to a third story window visible just above the shrubbery he had hidden his vehicle behind. She could just barely make out two stationary figures and wondered if they were sitting at a table, eating dinner like normal people at this time of day. It was just before six following a painfully long shift at the precinct, and yet here she was. Decompressing with the most tightly wound person she'd ever known. While he was working. Strangely enough, though, it worked for her. She could relax with him. She wanted to relax with him.

By now, it wasn't the first thing she thought of when she saw him. Enough time had passed to make it the second or third. Seven weeks to be exact. Quinn was still awaiting trial for a multitude of federal offenses. Simmons, too. John had somehow tracked him down and delivered him to her. She had her detective shield back, complete with beaucoup apologies and a hell of a lot of extended goodwill yet to be cashed in.

But she was unsettled. Still.

She turned to him. "So what's the case? Thomason still?"

John lowered his monocular again and shook his head. "New one. Sex, murder, and mayhem."

Joss nodded. "One of those."

"One of those." He turned to look at her. She was wearing delicate diamond stud earrings today. Last night they had been tiny T-shaped gold ones. For "Taylor" he was sure. He swept his eyes quickly over her curly mane of hair. That was something else that had changed about her in the last several weeks. Since that night. She stopped wearing the same hoop earrings and stopped straightening her hair. He'd been wanting to run his fingers through those pillowy soft-looking curls ever since.

"Oh, here." She reached into her suit jacket pocket and retrieved his wallet, holding it out to him. "I didn't look in it so you and Finch don't have to burn it."

He took it and smiled at her. "You can look in my wallet." She knew everything now but she still liked to hold his and Finch's withholding over their heads whenever she got the chance.

Joss ignored the obnoxious rush she felt when his fingers brushed hers as he took possession of his property. She watched as he opened it. Weeks ago she probably wouldn't have noticed. But she was aware of so much now. The way he looked at her, the way he smelled. The way his eyes would change color depending on the angle, the lighting, his mood. Every word out of his soft mouth. Every nerve ending she had became sensitive to everything around her when he was near.

"There was something I wanted to give you anyway." He thumbed through the contents in search of the folded up gift certificate to a nail salon in midtown. Finding it, he handed it to her.

"Thanks." She raised her left eyebrow. "How'd you end up with this?"

"Don't ask." He watched as he got the desired reaction out of her and a small laugh escaped her lips.

"Okay."

"I figured you could use it or knew someone who could. I don't need it."

"You sure about that?" She didn't know why she did it but she reached over and grabbed his right hand, making a show of scrutinizing his nails. He was right. He didn't. They were meticulous. She bet his fucking feet were, too. Accepting he was right and she had nothing left to say about the matter, she set his hand back in his lap and shrugged her shoulder, ignoring the knowing chuckle coming from his side of the car.

She could leave now. If she wanted. He had the wallet he didn't really need- belonging to an alias of his she was sure- back in his possession and he was working. But she stayed anyway. She would give it a few more minutes. Her time alone with him. She wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe a part of her was hoping the more time she spent with him, the greater her chances were of resolving whatever was unsettling her spirit.

They were silent as he resumed his spying. So it came.

She had been flattered, shocked when he told her. How much she meant to him. That she'd made him consider living instead of the alternative. That she'd changed him. And in that moment, just like that, their entire relationship changed.

She had never known. She remembered vividly how entranced she was, the lump in her throat, the feel of his palm against her cheek as her heartbeat thrummed vociferously in her ears. She remembered the bullet she'd unknowingly kept him from using on himself, the one he left with her in case he didn't come back. The bullet now occupying a space in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box along with her wedding band, purple heart, and Taylor's first lost tooth.

The way he told her he couldn't lose her. And how, just when she thought he'd closed that window to his soul, after his short stint in jail, he'd told her he wanted his last moments spent with her. Not with Harold. Not alone. With her. She'd swallowed that lump in her throat once more as she looked at him and tried not to be overwhelmed before he offered her a ride home. The weight of it all then and now was almost suffocating.

And he had kissed her.

They never spoke of it. Not a hint, not a thinly veiled reference, not a ghost of a knowing smile. She felt she owed him that much. After all, he'd never mentioned how desperately she'd clung to him when she thought he was going to die from the bomb he'd been strapped to. He'd never mentioned how she'd lost her damn mind wanting to save him when she had a child at home. Instead they went about their business just like they were going about their business now. But this time was different. This time their emotions weren't only in their eyes, subtly lacing their actions. This time they had attached themselves to words, to a kiss. To words and a kiss that were now following them wherever they went like the lingering scent from a rose on a rainy day.

"How was your day?"

Joss was jolted from her thoughts at his prompt. "Okay. Behind my desk all day."

"Any problems with Raymond last night?"

"Ask Fusco. I gave him to him."

Reese chuckled. "Bet that made his night."

She smiled. "If you say so. He didn't talk to me all day."

"He'll come around. I don't know anybody who can stay mad at you for long."

Her stomach fluttered slightly. It was beginning to get on her nerves. How everything he said took on several new dimensions. To distract herself, she changed the discourse. Nodding toward the building his eyes were glued to, she asked, "So who's the case?"

"Angela Devereaux. Personal, uh, companion. Married personal companion."

She followed his line of sight. "Oh, that's fun."

"Definitely interesting." John turned to her briefly as she chuckled to herself. "What?"

"Nothing. Just every time I hear that last name I think of Blanche from The Golden Girls."

He turned back to Devereaux who was still seated at the table. "Sophia was the best." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her whip her head back to him as he knew she would.

"You watched The Golden Girls?"

"Reruns come on all the time, Joss." There was a lilt to his voice. He was teasing her.

At that, she sat back in her seat, turning her entire body to face him, arms crossed with a twinkle in her eye and a curve to her lips. "Okay. Let's try this one: Julia, Suzanne, Charlene, or Mary Jo?" Her smile got wider as he answered without hesitation.

"Anthony."

She nodded as her face lit up. It was on now. "Max, Khadijah, Synclaire, or Regine?" She watched as his face contorted slightly. Like he was thinking when he really wasn't. She would be damned if he actually watched Living Single, too.

"Probably a tie between Max and Regine. But I have a soft spot for Kyle and Overton, too." At that, he lowered the monocular once again and smiled innocently at her slightly dropped jaw. "Surprised?" She was goddamned beautiful when she was speechless.

Drawing her chin back up, she had to admit he had surprised her. And she was suddenly finding herself wanting to go through an exhaustive list of classic TV shows just to see if he had watched any of them, and then relax on his couch and watch them with him. "I'm impressed." She was. He'd peeled back a couple of layers and she wanted to know more. His favorite movies, music, books, food. She wanted to know what made him laugh. She wanted to see him laugh. Not the usual chuckle she got out of him. A full-bellied, tear-inducing, stomach-cramping, knee-slapping guffaw. She wanted to see him relaxed and happy. Truly happy.

She wanted to know him.

He wanted to be with her.

Thinking back, he didn't know what compelled him to tell her how much she meant to him. He had had an ominous feeling he supposed. She had been determined to bring HR down on her own no matter how often he offered his help. She hadn't seemed to realize it wasn't an offer. He needed to help her. He needed to know she was going to be okay. He needed to know no one was going to hurt her. But she'd rejected it. She'd rejected him and gone off the grid after pitting two violent criminal organizations against one another.

Something snapped in him.

Before she reached out to him, he had emotionally snapped. He wouldn't show it but he had. He was helpless and worried and he wanted to throttle her and shield her when he found her. Fortunately, she'd eventually let him in but the feeling stayed with him.

That was it. Probably. Why he'd done what he did while they were cornered. Said what he'd said. She had terrified him like no one before her and the uncharted territory had sent him reeling. Talk about death and close calls in the morgue had turned him into an open book. The words came. Easily. So did the kiss. So did the resolve to sacrifice himself for her if it came to it. So did the goodbye in the bullet as a thank you. As something to remember him by. As a tangible representation of his heart that she held and that he'd leave with her. Forever. Letting go of it, the power it had held over him for so long, leaving it with her, had given him peace. He wouldn't kill himself over sorrow, without purpose. If he was going to go, it was going to have meaning. It was going to be to give her life. And he was going to be happy at the end. Because he'd shared the last of his life with her.

But he'd made it. They'd made it. And only the aftermath remained. There was no regret. In fact, it had lifted a weight from his shoulders. He loved her. Before that night he would have never labeled it a romantic love. He had had his reasons, his denials. But it was. It had been for awhile. He knew, deep down, she knew it, too.

He continued to smile softly while he stared at her. She was looking at him with a mix of wonderment, curiosity, and openness. He liked that look. He wanted to give her more. He wanted to share more of himself with her. It wasn't long, however, before her attention turned elsewhere. Straight ahead at the uniformed gentleman warily but steadily approaching.

"We got company."

John only thought about it for a second. He turned back to her. "Joss," he eased into her personal space. "Go with it."

She went rigid at first. From the surprise. Jesus. It wasn't tender this time. His kiss. But she melted into it, into him, anyway. He leaned across the center console, across her body, kissing her with a fake urgency that was meant for show. Plundering hands that were meant to convince. Teasing tongue meant to persuade. Her right hand went to the back of his neck, her left to the side of his face. She whimpered. She moaned. Her heart pounded so loudly her ears were ringing. All for show, all to convince and persuade.

Oh, the lies she could tell herself.

The tap on the driver's side window put an end to the performance. The look of irritation John plastered on his face as he relinquished his hold on Carter and turned to roll down the window was real.

"Private property. Take it somewhere else."

John's forced smile and nod were enough as the security guard ducked down lower to peer at Carter before stepping back from the vehicle. She mustered up the best embarrassed smile she could to continue the charade, trying her hardest to control the heaving of her chest and ignore the river gushing between her thighs. As she heard him start the engine and roll the window back up, she turned in her seat and faced forward, inhaling and exhaling measuredly while John steered the car back onto the residential street. The air was still charged. She still felt him all over her. And she knew it was over. The reprieve he'd given her. He hadn't just revoked it; he'd ripped it from her clutches, shredded it at her feet, and stomped on it for good measure. He could be a cruel son of a bitch when he wanted to be. She wasn't ready yet. She was not ready.

She was almost startled when he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Where'd you park?" He was going to have to come back on foot after he dropped her off.

She straightened up in her seat and cleared her own throat. "Bottom of the hill, turn right. I'm on the street."

He nodded once and adjusted himself in his seat, not caring if she noticed just how well he'd gotten into his role. He hadn't only been trying to convince the security guard they were a couple; he realized as soon as his lips touched hers for the second time that he had been trying to convince her, too.

Reaching the bottom of the hill, they waited silently for traffic to pass so they could make the right turn. Joss knew she wasn't going to make it out of the car unscathed. Not after what they'd just done. Not this time. So she tried to control the scathing. "I could have flashed my badge."

He looked to his left one final time before making the right and pulling into traffic. "Why didn't you?" He knew her answer before he asked. He knew he was just being contrary by asking. He knew he hadn't given her the opportunity to. He also knew that as soon as they started kissing, she became just as lost in it as he had. Of course they could have used her badge. Or the star and badge he had. Or claimed they were lost or pulling over to safely answer a phone call or any number of things. But that wasn't what this was really about. He spotted her car on the street and pulled up behind it, putting the vehicle in park.

She looked at him incredulously. "Did you give me the chance?"

"My fault you didn't move fast enough?" He smirked at her.

She squinted her eyes as she shook her head at him, smiling in spite of herself. He was the king of annoying the hell out of her. And damn could he kiss. She turned to look out the windshield, focusing on the back of her SUV. "Real cliche, too."

He shrugged his right shoulder. "Maybe." He studied her profile. "Or maybe I just wanted to kiss you again."

She whipped her head back to look at him. No, she wasn't leaving unscathed. That look of his. The depth in his eyes. She was back in the morgue all over again. He was as open as ever again. And she wasn't ready. She tried to make light of his statement and forced a laugh. "So you admit it. You just wanted to kiss me."

He spoke softly, not taking his eyes from her face. He wasn't laughing. "I admit it. Just wondering if you will."

She swallowed and her heart began beating wildly again. Fuck him. Seconds passed. Maybe even a full minute. She turned from him then, eyes staring through the windshield at nothing in particular. "It's…..It's messy, John. And I know life's messy, it's just..." Her voice trailed off. Vigilantism was his bread and butter. It wasn't very rational but she could accept befriending him. Helping him help others. Break the law she was sworn to uphold to save a life. But sleeping with him? Falling in love with him? The line tried to blur but she had fought all this time to keep it solid. It didn't matter that either way, if she got caught aiding and abetting him, she'd be going down. The truth that she had chosen to ignore for so long was that she had forged her fate with his the minute she heard the name Andrea Gutierrez.

A sigh escaped her. It was pointless now. "I admit it." She turned back to him. "But you see where I'm coming from, don't you?" She watched as he nodded, looking introspective as he watched the cars go by ahead of them. He got it. Of course he did. They both got it. Their damn hearts, though. They would never get it.

She reached for the door handle. "Anyway, you need to get back to work and I gotta get ready to pick my mom up in an hour. Her car's having issues again." She pulled on the door handle before turning back to look at him. His face was neutral. She was grateful for that. "We'll work it out. Probably," she added. She smiled to match the one that crept across his features and closed her eyes as he leaned over and gently cupped the back of her curly head with his right hand before placing a kiss to her forehead.

He pulled back from her slightly, eyes switching back and forth between hers. Those big, brown, beautiful eyes he always struggled not to get lost in. "Probably." When he noticed his eyes drifting to her mouth, he pulled back until he was no longer occupying both his seat and hers.

She had to go. It was time. "Goodnight." She opened her door and climbed out, not exhaling until the chilly winter air hit her face. She wanted to say something else. But she only managed that one word, and she barely heard the "Goodnight," he tossed after her before her door closed.

She crossed the front of his vehicle, feeling his eyes on her, before climbing into hers. There was no probably about it. They were going to figure it out a lot sooner than she thought.

Carter walked up the steps to her apartment the following week, arms laden with bags. She was returning from buying a few things at the grocery store. And a couple pairs of shoes. She shrugged to herself. She was an emotional shopper. It was expected. Because hers were all over the place.

She frowned when she noticed the package just outside her door. She couldn't recall ordering anything. It was probably Taylor's. Managing to unlock and open the door without dropping her bags, she dumped them and her purse on the couch before walking back to the door to retrieve the box. Jocelyn Carter. Hmm.

Carrying it into the kitchen, she wondered what the hell it was. It was medium-sized and a bit on the heavy side. From Amazon. Frowning again, she set the box on the counter and grabbed the scissors. Once it was open, she couldn't stop the grin that plastered itself on her face. "No he did not," she said to no one in particular. "That man." Still grinning, she shook her head and gathered up the groceries- and shoes- she'd left on the couch, bringing them to the kitchen as well. Pulling her phone out of her coat pocket, she dialed John's number.

"Carter?"

"You busy?"

Reese unconsciously drifted away from where Finch and Shaw stood at the desk in the library. "Not when you call."

Damn him. He had her grinning and blushing like a fool. It was not helping her tough-as-nails cop persona one bit. "I got a package today."

"That's nice."

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you. I had always meant to buy these." These being the complete series box sets of The Golden Girls and Designing Women. And the only season of Living Single released so far.

"You're welcome."

She leaned on the counter. "So, when we gonna do this?"

"Do what?" He was only slightly embarrassed by his first thought at her choice of words.

"Sit down and watch 'em?" She straightened up when she heard Taylor bounding down the stairs.

"You're inviting me over?" He was glad he wasn't facing his co-workers. The grin on his face was so wide he felt his lips crack.

"You bought me things. Of course." She watched as her son went through the bags and started putting the groceries away. He lifted the lid from her shoe boxes and side-eyed her.

"All it took, huh?"

"Yep." She unconsciously turned away from her son.

"Wonder what would happen if I fed you."

Damn him again. "Good things probably."

"I'll keep it in mind."

She turned back to her son, playfully slapping the shoe out of his hand as he gawked at it. "Anyway, thanks again. I won't keep you. I know you're busy."

"Anytime, Joss." Hanging up, he wiped the grin from his face before sauntering back over to the duo.

Shaw shook her head at him, the ever-present scowl on her face. "Why don't you just move in already?"

"What do you have?" Reese tapped his ear piece and waited for a response as he drove through traffic.

"This fool Nolan's got sixteen priors, John." Carter sat at her desk in the precinct, eyes glued to her computer screen as she scanned through the list of charges. "Petty theft, drunk and disorderly, a couple DUIs, criminal possession of a controlled substance…I mean, clearly, jail is his own special vacation spot."

"Nonviolent offenses, mostly." Reese frowned as he thought. Maybe he wasn't the one coming after their number.

"Well, he was arrested on a domestic charge." She quickly read through the incident report. "Said the girlfriend started it. She concurred, too. Cops took them both in."

"What's the girlfriend's name?"

"Wendy Tessler."

"She have a record?"

"Hold on." Carter grabbed the mouse and made several clicks.

"By the way, how'd it go yesterday?"

Carter held the phone between her shoulder and ear as she typed. She smiled. "He passed."

Reese chuckled. "We better warn the populace, Carter."

"Hey, quit talking about my baby. I'm nervous enough as it is."

"He'll be fine." John couldn't help but be proud. Taylor Carter was an officially licensed operator of a motor vehicle.

"I hope so. Okay, here we go…..Besides the DV thing, just a speeding ticket a year ago."

"Okay, thank you."

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you should grab your coat and meet me outside." He got out of the car, locked it, and stuck his hands in his coat pockets as he walked toward the precinct.

"What?"

"It's lunchtime. I'm here to feed you."

Joss Carter sat in the warmth of her idling SUV outside John Reese's apartment Saturday evening waiting for him to emerge. She almost couldn't believe it really. That he'd agreed to go with her. And work hadn't interfered with their plans. But, then again, if she kept it real with herself, she knew what was up. What he was doing. What they both were doing. All the casual, "spontaneous" lunches, rarer but equally "spontaneous" dinners he suggested. All the interest in Taylor's activities and well-being. All the questions about her life, family, and friends. All the time they were spending together in the past month and a half since the Devereaux stakeout where less and less was spent on the numbers Finch's machine gave them.

The man was wooing her. He was wooing her through her son, food, and classic television. All things she loved. The mint cookies 'n cream and red velvet cookies he had waiting for her in her apartment when she got home on Valentine's Day a couple weeks ago hadn't hurt either. The man was wooing her on the sly and trying to make her fat and she liked it.

And it was the reason she was sitting outside his apartment now after inviting him to the Paint By Numbers event at Pisces Too in Manhattan. She'd heard about it at work for the umpteenth time and was going to invite a girlfriend or two to go with her. It was going to be a casual event replete with drinks and paint and socializing where ticket proceeds would go to the Holy Apostles soup kitchen. It sounded like a fun, relaxing affair and went with her New Year's resolution to try new things. But before she could think of which of her friends to invite, John crossed her mind, like he was doing damn near all the time lately.

So she asked him.

She asked him in spite of not really being able to see him going to such an event of his own accord. She asked him knowing he wouldn't say no. She asked him because she wanted to enjoy him. Smiling, she watched as he opened the passenger side door and slid into his seat. He smelled as good as he looked. It tickled her pink every time she saw him out of his suit. It was dark jeans and a hunter green winter scarf and a dark brown leather jacket tonight and she liked every bit of it.

"Sorry I took so long." Shaw had taken her dear, sweet time coming to relieve him so he could get ready for his date with Carter. He had had precisely thirteen minutes to shower and shave and make himself presentable before she was due to arrive. He hadn't had a damn thing to eat since lunch either. He knew one thing for certain: Shaw had better sleep with one eye open.

Carter put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot before they started on their way. "I wasn't waiting long. Maybe five minutes."

He had only had a second to look at her while the car's interior light was on when he climbed in but it had been enough to know he was going to have trouble keeping his hands to himself. She wore some sparkly dangling earrings this time. And a headband or scarf of some sort to keep her curly hair off her face. She wore dark jeans, too, and a cobalt blue wool coat. He knew it was bad when he couldn't wait for her to get out of the car to see what adorned her feet. Boots, pumps, flats, he didn't care. But he wanted to know. "Where I'm from you don't keep beautiful women waiting."

She smiled and blushed at the compliment as she drove, streetlights and oncoming headlights casting streaks across her face. "You smell good. What is that?"

"Eros I think." He didn't just think. He knew. The god of love. It wasn't on purpose but he approved once it hit him.

She nodded, finding herself making a mental note that he liked vanilla and mint scents. With a hint of lemon. It worked well with his body chemistry. So well she wanted to crawl into his lap and envelope herself in it right now. Smell it on herself later. Lord have mercy. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused on driving.

"I am no good at this, Babe. Keeping it in the lines? Too much damn pressure." Michael, one of their unofficial tablemates, took his seat next to his girlfriend and laughed.

She nodded and laughed with him. "Picasso you are not, that's for sure."

"Why you gotta be like that, though?"

"You denying it?"

"No, but you don't have to be like that in front of people and shit." He indicated Carter, the joking smile plastered on his face.

Lauren turned to Carter. "Did he or did he not start talking shit about his own damn self when he sat down?" She laughed and bumped her man's shoulder.

Carter laughed at them both and took a sip of her drink, shaking her head. They were a ridiculously handsome couple, and hilarious on top of it. His long dreads pulled into a low, loose ponytail, perfectly white teeth, and honey skin complemented her perfectly coiffed afro and blemish-free mahogany complexion. She couldn't help but wonder if they were models. "I can't talk. I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon."

She turned to see how John was coming along with his painting. His section had been larger than hers, which was why he was still up there and she was off her feet. As he seemed to do with everything else, he was concentrating fiercely, like he was going to get graded for his efforts. It was adorable. She loved to watch him, the way he turned his head to get a better angle, the way he smiled and occasionally spoke to his neighbor painter as they accidentally bumped into each other. He was one of the taller people at the function and she watched as he helped an impossibly short woman reach one of her number's areas. Catching herself staring, she turned from him and looked at how the painting was coming along after three rounds of numbers. There was likely to be one more before it was finished. It was a simple nature scene, with a lake and a boat and a cabin, but it was surprisingly full of depth and had come together quite nicely. She looked around at the people milling about. There were drinks and finger food, music and conversations, laughter and camaraderie. People of all ages, including children, were there having a good time doing something for a good cause.

"So what do you do?"

Carter's attention was turned back to Lauren. "I'm a cop, actually. Homicide detective." It was always interesting the responses she would get from people, most of them obnoxious and cringe-worthy.

"Really. I've never actually met a cop before. How do you like it? It's probably not easy being a woman in that field."

Carter decided she really liked her new friend. She recalled what she'd spent last year doing and shrugged. "It's a lot better now. And, no, it's not easy. Everybody always tests you. Suspects and cops." She watched as Lauren nodded. "What about you two?" She asked quickly. She didn't want them inquiring about what John did.

Lauren pointed to herself. "Law school right now." She pointed to Michael. "Social worker. Between the two of us, broke as a damn joke, girl." She laughed.

"Tell me about it. It is hard out there." Joss took another sip of her drink, glancing to her left as John finally joined them. "I'm trying to scrape up enough to help my mom get her car fixed."

"The hell were you doing up there, bruh? Trying to finish the rest of it yourself?" Michael teased John as he sat down.

Joss turned to him. "You were up there a long time." She reached over to wipe at a smudge of paint on his cheekbone with her thumb. "I thought I was going to have to come help you out."

"Number 22 needed some help." He wanted to suck that thumb into his mouth.

She removed the paint from his face and picked up a napkin to wipe the remnants from her skin. "Uh huh. More like needed you to do the whole thing for her." There was only teasing in her voice.

John shrugged his shoulder and reached for his watered-down drink. "She had a lot of high ones."

Michael piped up. "See what we get when we try to be gentlemen?"

Reese chortled. "Sometimes I don't think we can win."

"We can't, okay? We absolutely cannot!" Michael laughed when Lauren playfully punched him in the shoulder.

Joss side-eyed John's innocent What? face as she rose. "I'll be back. Bathroom."

Five minutes later she returned to the table where they were all laughing over something or other. By the time she sat down, though, the conversation shifted. She froze in her seat for a second when she realized where it had shifted back to.

"So we got a detective. What do you do, man?"

Carter relaxed slightly as John answered without missing a beat. She was going to have to learn how to answer that question if they were going to be together. She froze again after she realized what she had just thought.

"I'm in security." John watched as Michael nodded, popping the last of his pretzels into his mouth.

"Network or personal?"

"Both. Can't do one without the other."

Michael nodded. "True. So what is that? Bodyguard services? Stuff like that?"

Joss cringed internally. People asked too many damn questions. This wouldn't work. They couldn't tell people the truth and there were too many lies to keep straight. What the hell would she tell her friends? Her mother? It was one thing to control the discourse in a contained environment like Rikers. In the real world, oftentimes a small world, one or two people running into another couple people could spell disaster for them. She wouldn't look at John as he continued to weave his tale.

Reese nodded. "Mostly. It's just a small company."

"Oh, do you own it?"

"With my partner."

Michael nodded. "Small business owners. That's what I want to get into someday, you know? So what kind of people hire you?"

Carter tried to keep the nonchalance in her body language. But this was killing her. What was with the 20 questions? New damn topic, please.

Reese smiled. "People with money."

Lauren and Michael nodded and laughed before new numbers were called for the final round. John and Joss watched as their companions rose to go to the painting. She looked at him, grateful for the save. He winked at her and she shook her head at him. He had been trained to lie and was quick on his feet. Of course he would have no problem with the questions. Of course he and Finch would protect themselves with a "small business partnered" dummy company. Just like they had with John Warren and Howard French. Hell, he probably had business cards in his wallet in case anyone asked for one. She wondered if she would ever be comfortable with it, though. The lies. Or who she would be if she ever did.

The foursome walked out of the building when the event was over, still casually chatting. The night was young; it was only about ten o'clock but the temperature had dropped considerably. The women stuck their hands in their coat pockets and bounced up and down as they wrapped up their conversation and prepared to say their goodbyes, their breath visible before disappearing into the night sky. The men laughed one final time before extending their hands to one another.

"Alright, man. It was good to meet you. Take care now." Michael shook John's hand before turning to shake Joss's. He then placed his hand at the small of Lauren's back. "Alright, sweetie, let's roll."

John was about to extend his hand toward Lauren before she suddenly became animated and he stopped short.

"Hey, we're about to go down to The Wolf's Den. They have a really good old school R&B band and the kitchen is open 'til midnight. You guys want to come?"

Reese stepped over to Carter and instinctively pulled her back against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her arms as she shivered in the cold.

She craned her head back and up in his general direction. She was tired. She just couldn't hang all night long like she used to, but she was hungry. "You want to?"

John's stomach rumbled against her back. "Up to you."

It was too cold for indecisiveness so she gave them an affirmative answer. "Let's go. It's cold out here." She felt John grab her shoulders and turn her around to face him. She continued to shiver against the cold wind as he removed his scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

"Is it far?" Reese asked. He would go get Carter's SUV while she waited inside the building they'd just exited.

Michael shook his head. "Nah, we can walk it." He pointed down the street. "Few blocks over on Baird."

Together, they hurried down the street to the restaurant and bar.

It was nearly one thirty in the morning by the time Carter and Reese pulled up in front of his loft. The music had been good, the food had been good, the company had been good. They had both had such a good time they forgot their earlier exhaustion and couldn't believe it when they realized how late it was.

They'd driven home mostly in silence, a comfortable one while their thoughts kept them occupied. She felt restless, almost giddy. She could blame it on the alcohol but she'd only had one drink. It was more of a high. A contact high from him. Seeing him smile and laugh so much. He had seemed genuinely relaxed. Happy. It was impossibly sexy coming from him.

It felt good. It felt good being in his company. It felt good being part of a "couple." It felt good being by his side, being in his arms as he tried to shield her from the cold. Having him go to the bar to order her drink and bring it to her. Having his arm on the back of her chair as she rocked in her seat to the music. Being told to stay inside while he walked those blocks in the cold to get her car and pick her up. It felt good being his for the night.

She was in so much damn trouble.

Putting her car in park, John turned to her when she spoke.

"So that wasn't too terrible, was it?"

He smiled to himself and shook his head before he responded. "I had a good time."

She nodded. "I could tell. I don't think I've ever seen you smile that much." She reached out and ran her left hand lightly on the right side of his face before turning his head to stroke the left side. "Your cheeks are sore, aren't they? You're about to go upstairs and take some Advil and go to sleep, aren't you?"

John stretched his neck and looked in the rear view mirror, stroking the lower half of his face as if checking to see if he needed a shave. "No, I think the alcohol dulled the pain."

"Oh, well, okay. They're gonna be sore in the morning then." She gave him a bright smile. "Thanks for coming with me, John. I had a good time, too. Best night I've had in awhile." It was so far from an understatement she almost hated to admit it to herself. It seriously meant trouble of the worst kind.

"It's always the best night, Joss, when I'm with you." He looked at her. Inside her. Through her. It wasn't hyperbole and he wanted her to know it.

She swallowed. The way he was looking at her, she felt the air jolt. She felt it in the tiny bones of her toes. Why in God's name was he doing this to her? She wanted all of him in the rawest way. It was starting to override her common sense. Her dominant rational side. Unsure of how long he held her in his metaphorical grip, her eyes lowered to his hand as he reached over to unbuckle her seat belt. She watched as he then undid his own and opened the door and climbed out. He had let her go but she was still feeling the effects when he rounded the car and opened her door. She willed her brain to function. Following the rules of logic, the next step was to get out. So she did. That accomplished, she got out of the way of the door closing and felt his hand at her lower back. Silently, he guided her back to the driver's side, opening the door wide for her.

But she was still feeling the effects.

She didn't climb in. Instead she reached up and pulled his head down so that she could suck his tongue into her mouth. It was cold as hell outside but she wanted nothing more than to feel him pull her bottom lip between his teeth before sucking the last of her after dinner mint into his mouth. She wanted nothing more than to feel the hair at the nape of his neck beneath her fingertips as he pulled her so tightly against him she was lifted from the ground. She got everything she wanted. This was the third time they had done this. And it got exponentially more passionate each time.

Cold oxygen hit their lungs when they had no choice but to let one another breathe. He lowered her to her feet but their eyes continued what their lips had started. He deciphered and understood that look of desperation clawing at her eyes and closed her door, taking her right hand in his left and dragging her across the quiet parking lot toward the lobby door of his building. He wondered if they would make it to his bed. He wondered why he didn't just pull her back inside the car so he could be inside her sooner.

Inside the still lobby, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, feel his heart pounding almost painfully in his chest. Nervous energy causing the hand that reached out for the elevator button to shake. He swallowed. He couldn't believe what was happening to him. He had lost control over his body, over himself. This never happened. He needed it to stop before he lost control of his actions and stripped her of her clothes and her composure inside this elevator car.

The door opened immediately and as they entered his stomach dropped; the phone in his back pocket was buzzing. Rage blinded him for a second before he closed his eyes and dropped Joss's hand. Only five people called him, and the only one he wanted to give his attention to was already here. Taking a calming breath, he pulled it out of his pocket, turning to face her as he answered. He saw it in her eyes already: understanding and disappointment. He probably looked absolutely devastated.

His voice was remarkably even as he spoke into the phone. "What is it, Shaw?"

"Get your tongue from down Carter's throat and meet me back up here. I need an assist."

Not dignifying that with a response, he sighed to himself and hung up. Shaw only asked for help if it was beyond absolutely necessary, so he knew he had to go. He looked at Joss and pressed the button to open the elevator doors. They had never pressed the button for his floor so they were still at ground level.

"Duty calls." It wasn't a question. She exited the elevator with him at his nod. Stunned. In a bit of a daze. Like her brain hadn't quite processed the rapid turn of events. She had to concentrate, focus. Put one foot in front of the other, walk through the door, and back to her car. Rational Jocelyn was coming back to the helm. Finally. That phone call had woken her ass back up. It was a sign. She was sure of it. One that signaled they needed to slow things down. She had left her damn purse in the car and didn't even lock the doors for God's sake.

Once they quickly reached her vehicle, he again opened the door for her and waited until she settled herself inside. Looking apologetic and mourning what was going to be a devastatingly perfect end to their evening, he asked her to send him a text when she made it home safely and quickly raced to his car. Shifting his focus to where it needed to be, he mentally went over the weapons he had stashed in his car that he would need to quickly stash on his person.

For them, for the evening they were going to have, he'd left his guns and knives and bulletproof shirt at home. So they could be like everyone else. So they could be normal. For just one night.