A/N Here's the final chapter. And of course there's angst in it, but hopefully the fluff included compensates overall. Hope you enjoy. Wolfmusic scream when you see your shout out, girl. LOL Enjoy!

Disclaimer ~ I own nothing you see here.

Reese looked at Carter out of the corner of his eye. She was quiet on the seat beside him as he turned a corner. They'd be at his building in less than ten minutes. Somewhere she had never been. He felt nervous, a little anxious. Still he felt excitement coursing through his veins. He wanted to share yet another part of himself with her. What better way to do it than to take her back to the place where he lived? What better way to start their much needed do over?

He knew he'd fucked up by not putting an end to Zoe's territorial banter in front of Joss. The evening seemed to be getting back on track only to be derailed again right after she left. Despite the conclusions he knew Joss had drawn after the little scene, she'd softened towards him while they waited for the valet. He thought of the kiss he hadn't had a chance to take. When he asked her to come home with him, she could've said no. She could've demanded he take her home, but here she was sitting next to him. He reached out and took her hand, locking their fingers together. She turned her head as he kissed the back of her hand and then held it on his thigh. He didn't say anything, neither did she, but he didn't miss the smile on her lips or the touch of her thumb as she ran it over his.

Apartment 5A. Carter walked into the loft after Reese opened the front door and said 'Wow'. She stood rooted to the spot and looked around the large open space. A few things caught her eye. The staircase to her right ascended to what looked like an indoor tree house. A huge sprawling bed was to her left, perfectly made with sheets and a blanket folded on top. The far side of the loft was furnished with black leather furniture, a coffee table, and a mounted flat screen TV. Almost ceiling high windows and then a door that she assumed led to the kitchen - the place was most definitely a bachelor pad. And by the looks of it, these digs were pricey.

"Don't just stand there," John said. "Come in." He reached for her hand again, taking her around to show her his walk-in closet, the small dining area, and then onto the kitchen. It boasted all stainless steel appliances, a large stove and oven, and an island. The countertop was stocked with gadgets, canisters, and every kitchen accessory she could think of. She was impressed as he took her around, looking at her nervously like a young child showing off a new toy. She realized that he was in fact waiting for her opinion, her seal of approval. She smiled when they stood near one of the windows while he showed her the view of the park below them.

"It's beautiful, John." She looked around again, mentally dismissing the nagging question of whether or not Zoe Morgan had ever been there.

"Thanks. It's not quite the home that you and Taylor have, but…"

"It's perfect, and it's you," she said, looking at him. "It may not have started out that way, but…I think it's grown on you. Now, about this dress…"

"I have just the thing to fix it. But you'll need to change into something more…comfortable."

"If you're about to tell me you have women's clothes here, I don't think Zoe Morgan and I are the same size."

She couldn't help herself, and he laughed nervously. He raised his eyebrows while she looked at him straight faced.

"No, I don't believe you are." He looked at her from head to toe, letting his gaze linger for a while before his eyes met hers again. "Don't think you share the same tastes either - in clothes anyway."

"Hmph."

"I have something for you to put on." He walked away, heading to the closet and she followed. Standing in front of a row of pull-out drawers he opened the bottom one, pulling out the lavender shirt they'd talked about earlier. He handed it to her and she couldn't help smiling.

"You did promise to wear it," he said.

"Did I? Or did you just say that you thought this colour suited me?"

"I could've sworn you agreed to put it on." He looked at her with a sly grin on his face.

"You just want me out of this dress. Admit it."

The air was suddenly crackling between them. The push pull between them was so palpable she could feel it. She wanted to touch him; she wanted to feel the kiss that the valet interrupted. With him standing this close and only his folded shirt between them, nothing was stopping them now. She moved closer, slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him toward her. She captured his top lip softly between hers, sucked on it gently. She heard him inhale, a surprised breath, a relieved one. He opened his mouth above hers and she slowly slipped her tongue inside, teasing his quickly, tenderly. She felt his hand at the small of her back, his fingers just above her butt and he moved just an inch closer.

Not yet, she thought. Not quite yet. Not in this closet. Not even when his body so close to hers felt this good. She pried her lips from his, her breath momentarily taken away by that soft, yet passionate moment. She swallowed, feeling his thumb brush against her nape.

"Where's your bathroom?" she whispered.

It took him a while to respond. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she could feel the flutter of his eyelashes on her face. They were both tipsy off each other, not knowing it'd be this good. Before they got full on drunk, they both needed to sober up a bit.

"John, where's your bathroom?" she repeated.

"To your left," he answered hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "To your left."

He finally let her go, stepped away to give her some room and she nodded, turning to walk away.

"Wait," he said, and when she spun round he handed her an unopened pack of boxer briefs. "They're the only bottoms I have that might fit you."

She giggled at him before scampering towards the bathroom, her heels sounding on the wood floors.

He'd been right, Reese thought. The lavender did suit her skin tone better. She sauntered into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and the top buttons left undone on the shirt. She'd forgone the underwear he'd given her, but she insisted on keeping her heels on. He had no complaints however, and made an exaggerated show of staring at her legs, and the hint of her thighs that were slightly covered by the oversized shirt. She pointed her finger at him as he twisted to the side taking in the sight of her.

"Don't say a word," she warned as she walked up to him, and he wordlessly handed her a glass of white wine.

"My lips are sealed," he promised, watching her taste it.

"Hmm," she said, nodding her approval. "What are you fixing?"

She glanced over the pot of jumbo shrimp that he was rapidly bringing to a boil over high heat. She watched him drain them, run them under cold water and then cut them up in chunks. "Something light. Sandwiches. Shrimp salad sandwiches."

"Special recipe?"

"Special recipe for a special lady." He picked up a piece of shrimp, raised it to her lips and fed it to her.

"You really are laying it on thick."

"I thought about holding back, taking it slow. Didn't want to scare you off, but I changed my mind. Just let me know if things get a little too hot for you to handle."

"You know John, after all we've been through, I think I can pretty much take anything you can dish out."

She wasn't backing down, not even a little bit, and he liked it. Her teasing was subtle, playful, her voice... so sultry. His body was reacting to her so strongly he could barely contain it.

"Do you need some help with that?" she asked.

"I'm good, but you can go put some music on."

"Background music coming up."

He went about his business of chopping up celery, tomatoes, lettuce, and green onions. Afterwards he threw everything into a bowl including the shrimp. He combined them all together, added mayonnaise and chives, and salt and pepper to taste. He left the lettuce and tomato to dress the bread. He pulled a cob sandwich loaf from his bread keeper and had split it open when he realized he had yet to hear any music. He walked out of the kitchen and saw Carter leafing through his CD collection, a puzzled look on her face.

"What happened to the music?" he asked, and she turned her head.

"Everything's old, John. And it's Motown old."

"It's the best music out there," he said, walking toward her.

"New Edition? Jackson 5?"

He rolled his eyes, realizing that she was seriously challenging his opinion of her being the perfect woman. "You better make a choice or I will," he warned. It was her time to roll her eyes and she popped in a CD. The Jackson 5's ABC filled the room, and he headed back to the kitchen bobbing his head.

"Good choice," he yelled over the music and started stuffing the loaf. He cut it into four mini sandwiches and plated them before washing his hands.

"That sandwich better be good enough to make up for this music you're making me listen to. This do over is off to a rocky start," she said as he finally emerged from the kitchen, plate in one hand and the opened bottle of white wine in the other.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She downed the remnants of her glass and looked at him defiantly.

"Take it back," he said, advancing on her, and rested the plate and bottle on the coffee table. She backed away from him, grinning as he took her empty wine glass from her. "Take it back, Joss."

"Or what? What you gonna do, John?"

"Take it back," he said again.

Her tongue flicked out, gliding across her mouth. He was sure she hadn't intended it to be a seductive gesture, but that's exactly what it ended up being. She was in trouble and didn't even know it. More evenings, days, moments, spent like this, and he'd never let her go. She kept moving further and further away, grinning while she did, but his strides were long and soon she was in his arms, and he caught a whiff of her perfume.

Intoxicating, he thought as he gripped her and spun her round till her back was to his chest. The music was quick, upbeat, but he swayed slowly with her.

"You don't like my music?" he said, with his head bent close to her ear.

"Let's just say I expected something a little different." She turned her head to answer him, and her lips were so temptingly close to his. He twirled her around, linking their fingers, the two of them still moving to their own beat.

"Ah, I see. You didn't think I had any rhythm." He pulled her close, wrapping both their arms around his back.

"Well," she said a little breathlessly. He bent his head toward hers, giving her an Eskimo kiss. "You've definitely proven that you do have some moves of your own." He put her arms around his neck, just as 'I'll Be There' started to play, and slid his hands around her waist again.

"Still disappointed by the do over?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I think it's going just fine."

"Yes!" he said, pumping his fist in the air once. Her laughter filled his ears.

Carter stood at Reese's side in his laundry room in front of the washer and dryer. Her dress lay in a solution of various chemicals and water as their aroma filled the room. The smell was thick, pungent, but their odor seemed to have no effect on John at all. She eyed him skeptically, looking between him and the tray that the dress was immersed in.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

He nodded his head and simply said 'Trust me'.

She looked back at the tray, fully expecting the fabric to start to discolour before their eyes, but after a few seconds, it still hadn't.

"When did you get to be such an expert in chemistry?"

"There are things that I've done with chemicals that I'll never tell you."

His hands at his side twitched a little, and his mouth became a grim line. He grew suddenly pensive as if referencing a bad memory, but he banished it just as quickly, not wanting to ruin the evening. According to him, the dress needed to soak for about fifteen minutes more, and they went back to the living room. The remnants of their meal and the empty wine bottle greeted them.

He sat on the sofa, putting his arm on the back, his legs spread wide. She sat right next to him and he pulled her close. They'd been at his place for over an hour now, and she felt comfortable, at home. She sensed that he was starting to relax too. She leaned into his side and put a hand on his thigh. He reached for it, covering her hand with his, and she marveled that in such a short time they'd gone from tentative meals in her kitchen to wanting the familiar comfort of each other's touch. It was nice, it felt good, but it was also risky, scary. Possibly unwise.

"So you never did get to finish telling me how you expected the date to go."

"No, I didn't. Your wife came along, remember?"

He stiffened beside her, this being the second time for the night that she'd brought up Zoe Morgan. He'd ignored it before, but she felt that by now they both knew it wasn't a topic that could be swept aside any longer.

"Yeah. I do. Except she's not my wife. I think you know that."

"Do I? There's still so much I don't know about you. Who's to say that she wasn't telling the truth?"

"First of all, you know me. Better than anyone else, Joss. Secondly, she wasn't. And if I were married, I wouldn't be here with you tonight."

"Or breaking into my house whenever you felt like it?"

"Not…not whenever I felt like it. I'm not that bad."

She scoffed.

"Am I?"

She sighed, and shifted in his arms, turning so that she could look into his eyes. "Just why do you break in, John?"

She expected him to hedge at an answer, but he didn't. He didn't hesitate. "Because, when I'm in your home, when I'm with you, I feel at home." He didn't flinch, he didn't bat an eyelash, and his voice was steady and strong. "And I haven't felt that way…not since…"

"Since Jessica."

He trailed his finger over one of her eyebrows and nodded.

"And how does that go over with-"

"With Zoe?"

She nodded.

"Without me saying it, I think that Zoe knows how I feel about you. Probably before I did. Which would explain why she introduced herself as my wife the first time you two met. I've been able to compartmentalize what I have with you and keep it separate from what I had with her."

"Which is what?"

"A mutual understanding between two single adults."

John was a grown man. She knew he had needs. Needs that needed to be taken care of and she couldn't blame him for finding someone willing to do just that. He said that it'd been evident that he'd felt something for her. It'd been apparent enough for Zoe to feel threatened by it. Twice. Before she or John had even acknowledged it. Still the pang of jealousy she'd felt earlier reared its head, and she wondered if things were over between them.

"Well, you're still a single adult; you're free to make your own decisions."

"Yet, here I am."

He stroked her face and the gentle touch threatened to eat away at the doubts she was suddenly having. He was saying that he made his choice to be here, with her, not with any other woman, despite their not being committed to each other.

"I don't know what got into me…asking you out. This probably isn't a good idea."

"So many things could go wrong." He nodded his head in agreement, but the hand on her face still moved ever so softly.

"We definitely shouldn't do this."

"But we're going to." He looked sure of his statement. "We have to. Joss, you have way much more to lose than I do if we take this further. I know. And I feel guilty about the consequences of us sharing a life or even one day together. But even if I only have one more day left on this earth, I want to share that one day with you. And no one else."

She decided then that if he could be brave and open, so could she. Their lives, what they did, was dangerous, crazy. Death could come looking for them both at any minute. But she wanted him in her life and not just as her friend anymore. Wasn't that the reason she asked him out anyway?

"So…"

"So forget about Zoe," he said, pulling her onto his lap. She looked down at him, running her fingers over the gray at his temples, tracing her finger down the bridge of his nose. "It's just you and me, now."

"You know, the date was supposed to end with you planting a really good wet one on me."

"You beat me to it in the closet," he said, smiling.

"No. That was just a taste earlier," she said, tracing her finger over his mouth. Straddling his thighs, she felt his hands on her butt pulling her closer to him. His excitement was mounting, as was hers, and his shirt was a flimsy barrier between them. "I want to sample the real thing now."

"As you wish," he said, threading his fingers through her hair, and he tilted his head up to kiss her.

Despite her being on top, he was the one in control. He was in command, moving his hands over her back and across her thighs as his lips sucked at hers. They were soft, they were tender, and then they were so insistent she felt her stomach clench. His tongue moved over hers, sliding so nicely over it, darting in and out of her mouth in the most delicious way. It was impossible to feel so many things at once, she thought, and yet she was. The hardness between his legs, his hands on her back, fingers moving over her butt, and his mouth in a kiss that was so strong it curled her toes.

He tore his mouth away to kiss her neck, his mouth warm and moist at her throat. She moaned softly as his tongue slid over her décolletage, so dangerously close to her breasts. His hands moved underneath his shirt, and the soft sound of her name in his mouth coupled with his fingers on her skin was agony. Blissful agony. She fisted her hand in his shirt, an attempt to hold on, get a grip. She felt like she was losing herself, feeling so giddy and out of control. She was tempted, so tempted to let him take more. She wanted him, badly, but she knew it was too soon. So did he. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips once more, and looked into her eyes. She could see her own desire reflected in those cloudy blue depths. He was fighting for control as well.

"I want to make love to you, Joss. I want you so much. In my bed, on this couch, over and over again."

His voice was ragged, heavy with desire, and though she'd resolved that they couldn't, not just yet, it was almost enough to make her change her mind. He kissed her neck, and she ran her hands across his shoulders.

"It's too soon," he said quietly against her lips. "And I don't want either of us to have any regrets after I make love to you."

He took a deep breath, stilling his hands at her waist, and the look on his face made her heart turn over. He wanted to take things slow. He wanted things to be just right, and she appreciated that so much. Hadn't even known she'd needed him to do it. After his confession about his 'mutual understanding' with Zoe Morgan, it felt good to know that she wasn't just another way for him to slake his lust. He wanted more. She hugged him tightly, leaning into his chest.

"I want you too, John." He groaned as she trailed light kisses on his neck. She was sure it wasn't aiding his restraint in the least. But he'd just been so sweet in his declaration, she couldn't help it. "Thank you…for waiting."

"You're welcome," he said. "And if we're going to follow through with waiting, we need to get back to the first part of the date and get to know each other better."

And she needed to get off his lap. His heart was still beating fast against her palm on his chest. "I think that's a good idea."

"After I finish with your dress."

When Reese finally loaded Carter's dress into the dryer, stain free and smelling like normal, she was completely awestruck and couldn't hide her disbelief. Or her glee.

"I told you I'd take care of it. Didn't I tell you to trust me?"

"I'm glad I did. I was ready to write it off."

"It should be dry in another half hour or so. And good as new."

She nodded her head, suppressing a yawn. "It's late."

"Yeah it is," he said. It was past one in the morning. They were both tired, sleepy.

"I should get home."

"Where are you going dressed like that?" He knew she'd protest, but he wanted her to stay. The warmth he felt whenever he spent time with her at her house, she'd brought it here. He wanted to stay cocooned in that, for just a little bit longer. "You'll stay here."

"And now this do over...turns into a sleep over."

He nodded. It was as simple as that.

He switched off all the lights in the loft, and what was left was the soft light that came in from the city outside. He led her to the bed where she sat watching him as he undressed before her. She drew her legs underneath her as he unbuttoned his shirt, took off his pants and socks. When she unraveled the sheets and his blanket, he couldn't help thinking that he wished they could go to bed together like this every night. She looked just as comfortable in his space as he was in hers. He got in beside her under the covers and drew her close to his chest.

"We're still taking this slow, Joss. So try to keep your hands to yourself in the middle of the night, please." Her head lay right over his heart, and she felt so warm, cozy, and so damn soft in his arms with her leg thrown over him.

"I'll behave if you do," she said. Her soft chuckle was tinged with sleep. "Why don't you tell me a bedtime story?"

"You want something to put you to sleep?"

"Not that," she said, pinching him.

"Well let me tell you about an awkward gangly kid in high school who had terrible luck with the girls but excelled at basketball."

"No talk about any more of your exes. We've done enough of that for one night. One word and I'll tell you about my wedding night with Paul."

He grinned softly, running his hand along her arm. "Well before we talk about this kid, I have a little secret to tell you."

She raised her head, looking at him in the dark. "What secret?"

"If you hadn't asked me out, eventually I would have asked you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "I've wanted this - me and you I mean - for a while. I'm glad you found the courage."

"We both did, John. We both did."

Carter got up first. It was early, just before 7am, and she woke up wrapped in John's arms. They were spooning. How that happened she didn't know. She'd fallen asleep with her head on his chest, and she guessed sometime during the night they must have shifted. She looked at the strong arms covering hers, the contrast of his pale skin to her brown. She ran her hand over his arms lightly and he fidgeted behind her, moving just a little closer.

She opened her eyes wide for a second, the feel of morning wood at her back, and smiled. He'd been a true gentleman all night, not once taking advantage of her even though she'd probably have let him. He was good at keeping his promises, good at taking care of people. It was just who he was. He wasn't without his shortcomings or mistakes, but he was a good person, a good man. She wanted nothing more than to take care of him in return.

She slipped out of his embrace, sure that he would wake up, but he didn't move surprisingly. She rummaged through his bathroom and linen closet, searching for a towel to take a shower and an extra toothbrush. After freshening up in the bathroom, she padded over to the kitchen to make breakfast. She tried to make as little noise as possible, not wanting to disturb him. In his line of work she knew sleeping in for him was a luxury he probably didn't indulge in often. She wanted to give him that, this morning at least.

Reese woke up, stretching his arms out on the bed beside him and came up empty. Carter was gone, but as he sat upright in bed, he saw her poke her head out of the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said. She was fresh faced and smiling.

"Good morning," he replied. His day was already made, already perfect. She was still here, and last night wasn't a dream.

"Made you an omelette. A loaded one. And coffee."

She disappeared back into the kitchen, and he headed to the bathroom, to get rid of his morning wood and to wash up. She was plating his omelette and some toast, looking entirely too domestic. He couldn't help himself from boxing her in at the counter and kissing the back of her neck. She squealed.

"Scruff!" she said.

"Good morning," he said again, pulling her close. She turned around, slipping her arms about his waist and she stood on her toes, kissing him.

"Good morning," she said. He was falling again, hard. And he couldn't, didn't, want to help it. One look at her brown eyes in the light of day, and he knew he was gone. She'd taken a chance to ask him out, to initiate this exploration of what could happen between them. Maybe it was too soon, but he didn't care. He wanted to take a chance too.

"I want to do this again," he said.

"Find me in your kitchen making you breakfast?" she joked.

"Well that, too. But…I want to be with you, go to sleep with you, wake up with you next to me. I want to do all of this again."

She bent her head, just as he did when she first asked him out, and he wondered if now she would make fun of him. But she nodded her head, looking up at him and he was filled with hope.

"So do I John."

He released a sigh at her quiet declaration, lifted her up and spun her around. He kissed her hard, long, and passionately. She was out of breath soon, and pried her mouth from his, trying to find air. Her swollen lips begged to be taken again, but when he went to kiss her once more, she put a finger to his mouth.

"Slowly, John." She gazed at him with hooded eyelids.

He laughed and lowered her to the ground, and she stumbled toward him. "Slowly," he repeated, steadying her.

They walked to the dining table together and laughter rumbled in his chest. She poured him some coffee and orange juice and they started to eat.

"Slowly," he reminded himself again, smiling as he took a bite of his toast.

~ THE END