Happy birthday to the awesome SylvanHeather, who gave me the prompt "CaptainCanary and drunken Twister." :) I decided to make it my Halloween story as well.

AU where Len didn't die at the Oculus and before the time-scattering thing.

This isn't noncon (I won't write that), but it does feature characters losing inhibitions because of the influence of...something. Just so you know.

"Do you really need to send them?"

Ray's voice was mournful as he waited with the others on the Waverider's bridge, where Rip was still studying plans for the latest mission, Stein and Jax were talking, and Mick was waiting to play his own role. The inventor, however, was still reading the invitation to the event in question and…well, moping.

"I mean, the rest of us might like to go to a Halloween party too," he continued. "I still have my outfit from Salvation. I could..."

Rip, however, had had enough at this point.

"Dr. Palmer," he said at his most world-weary, running a hand over his face, "although I might prefer you take on this mission, Mr. Snart's, ah, particular abilities make him the obvious choice. And," he cut off the other man as Ray opened his mouth again, "sending him with Ms. Lance will draw less attention than if he shows up to this event alone."

"Well, what about Mick?" Ray glanced at the bigger man, who was slumped in a jump seat watching the conversation with every evidence of amusement. "He…"

"Mr. Rory is infiltrating the security crew to remove the item as soon as possible if the others can't extricate themselves immediately," Rip explained with the air of a man who'd done so many times before.

Ray was not appeased. "What, so they even get to stay afterward? I..."

"Stop whining, Raymond. It makes you even more annoying than usual."

The Waverider crew turned, more or less as a whole, to look as Leonard Snart, who, fiddling with his cuffs, sauntered out of the corridor leading to the crew quarters and the fabrication room. Jax and Mick laughed out loud, Stein smiled in amusement and Rip rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Snart," he said with resignation, "I'm not altogether sure that truly counts as a costume."

The crook had eschewed his usual black shirt, jeans, and jacket for a coal-gray suit with a blood-red shirt underneath-and a set of scarlet satin devil's horns peeking out from his short hair. He raised his eyebrows and started to reply…only to be interrupted by a voice from behind him.

"Didn't you forget something?"

Mick's eyes widened and he whistled appreciatively. Turning, Leonard felt his own eyes widen before he regained his usual equilibrium –at least, on the outside.

He'd made a practice and a habit out of watching Sara Lance during his time on the Waverider. They'd flirted and fought through any number of times, both before and after Savage's defeat. But besides that one brief conversation about something more, just before his near-miss at the Oculus, they've simply remained…friends.

And that's fine. Just fine. He's had few enough of those over his years, and he's being honest enough with himself, these days, to acknowledge that he wants her in his life no matter what capacity it's in.

But moments like this make it even harder to remember he's fine—really, just fine-with "just friends."

Sara stood a few feet from the doorway, smirking at him. She wore a tight, short white dress with a golden circlet—a halo?-perched a bit cockeyed on her head and a pair of fluffy white angel's wings attached to her shoulders.

And in one hand, she held up a red satin devil's tail.

"I could pin it on you," she informed him as she held the tail up, eyes wide and mock-innocent as Snart smirked at her in return. "I mean, if there's even enough give in those pants..."

"And, OK, I've heard enough of the flirting," Jax interrupted as he shook his head and stood. "You two have fun. Don't get arrested."

"Ye of little faith," Leonard muttered, still watching Sara as the younger Legend, followed by Stein, exited. "Now, what the hell is this thing we're looking for again?"

"I thought I told you two to stay unobtrusive…oh, never mind." Rip sighed again as the crook and assassin looked at him. "It's a small statue. A very old one, that somehow found its way to an elderly teacher's home and then to her 'garage sale' and was purchased by one of those organizing this Halloween party, apparently for...'atmosphere.' The problem is, it's a little more than a statue."

"You said it was actually something...occult?" Ray asked tentatively, joining the others at the table. "Like, you know, demons and stuff?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. An… occasional consultant, shall we say, gave me a heads-up about it." Rip frowned at the image of the gargoyle statue he called up on the screen. "In the right...or wrong...circumstances, well, it could cause a lot of problems. So we need to get it out of there as soon as possible."

"I know a little about that sort of thing. By association, anyway." Sara studied the image too, looking intrigued. "Well, if they really don't know what it is, this shouldn't be too hard. It's a little big to sneak out easily, but..."

"Yes, that's where Mr. Rory comes in. Get it, hand it off to him so he can take it out the back, make your exit as soon as possible thereafter." Rip gave the pair a stern look. "No need to steal anything else."

"Now, what fun is that?" Snart drawled, leaning on the table and exchanging an amused glance with Sara.

"It's not a gumball," Ray told the thief sternly, leading to a bark of laughter from Mick, a questioning eyebrow from Sara, and another sigh from the captain.

"Yes, well, confection or not, please treat this with a little care," he said. "There shouldn't be any danger, for once, but we don't want anyone thinking this thing is any more than what it appears—a mere curio. If someone should decide to start using it in a ritual of any sort, even one in play…well. That could get bad."

"Gotcha, Rip." As usual, Snart made the name sound like a particularly amusing epithet. "We'll be good. Mostly." Smirking, he held out his hand for the tail, which Sara passed over, and offered her his arm, which she accepted. And with that, the dapper devil and the angel with the rakish halo proceeded out of the bridge, heading for the Waverider's hatch.

Mick snickered again, then, muttering something about heading for his own rendezvous with the security team, rose to follow them out. Rip and Ray watched them go before the captain, with another put-upon huff, turned aside to consult the maps and other information Gideon had helpfully displayed on the monitors.

Ray, however, watched a few moments longer before turning to look at him again.

"I could..."

"No, Dr. Palmer."

"I haven't been to a Halloween party in...oh, before the Gambit, anyway," Sara said quietly as the pair strolled up the sidewalk to the castle-like former armory in which the fundraiser/party was taking place. "I remember one at Tommy Merlyn's. I was...oh, I think it was a sexy pirate. Kinda funny now."

She laughed a little. "Laurel was something I thought was so prim...I think it was a princess of some sort...but I wanted to catch Ollie's eye." She sighed. "You know how that turned out."

Leonard glanced at her as her hand tightened on his arm, just a little. He couldn't quite remember when she'd started mentioning the Gambit around him—one of their many card games, back before the Vanishing Point, his near-death, and Savage's defeat—but his quiet acceptance of it (and, he thinks, lack of pity) had led her to continue. Eventually, he'd started meeting her confessions with ones of his own. Well, it'd seemed only fair.

Funny, she probably now knew more about him than anyone else in his life, except maybe Lisa. Even things he'd never told Mick.

How odd.

"I can't say I've ever been to one," he said casually in return. "Well. Maybe...way back in preschool or something?" His mouth twisted a little. "I remember being a cop one year, back when I was 3 or so. Wanted to be like my dad, back in those days. Before I actually did turn out to be like my dad, but not in the way I thought."

"You're nothing like your dad." Sara's voice was hard and definite and she squeezed his arm a little harder. "Don't say that crap."

He was still trying to decide how to respond when they arrive at the building, climbing the stone steps to meet the doorman and pay their fee for entry. (They'd both been pleased to hear the price actually went to the Nickel City Women's Shelter.) The man took the cash without so much as a flicker of curiosity, waving them inside to join the mob of costumed partygoers milling about the entry.

They were both cautious as they entered—too much experience as thief, assassin, or Legends to take things at face value—but the event seemed to be exactly what it appeared to be: a fundraiser in which they could trade cash for a cause for plentiful alcohol, mingling, and assorted shenanigans. A bar along the back wall seemed to be doing a hearty trade in booze, people in all manner of costumes were admiring others as they arrived, and games here and there were causing a good bit of laughter.

Leonard could feel the muscles in Sara's arm relax just a bit as she took it in, finally chuckling a little as she looked up at him.

"Always a good sort of event for a thief," he whispered in her ear. "No one really cares who's here as long as they pay the fee and don't throw up on the host."

"Good thing for us," she whispered back. "Do you see Mick?"

He stifled a crack about how she was too short to really see over the crowd and did as asked, scanning until he saw the other man stationed near a corridor he knew led to the back door. Mick was watching him too, and they exchanged a nod.

Sara'd been watching and nodded herself at the interaction, placing a hand on her ear and giving him an inquiring look. He rolled his eyes, but nodded in agreement, and they both turned the tech on in unison.

"It's about time." Rip's voice was just a bit snippy as the line crackled to life. "Are you in?"

"Yep," Sara told him under her breath. "No problems. No sign of it yet, but it's a big place. We're going to have to explore."

"Mingle a bit," Leonard drawled, unable to keep himself from tweaking the former Time Master a little. "Get a drink. Or two. Gotta fit in, you know."

They both heard Rip's sigh across the coms. "Just don't get in a brawl," the captain muttered. "I know that's a challenge for the three of you. But the quieter this is, the better."

"We'll do our best," Sara assured him breezily. "Turning off coms now. We'll update later." And with that, over another Rip protest, she tapped the com again, smiling as Leonard did the same.

"Drink?" he asked her smoothly. "I can chat up the bartender while you make a circuit."

Sara glanced over at the bar, noting the dark-haired woman who'd been eyeing them with interest, even through the crowd. "Certainly...unless she's watching me and not you."

"Trust me, it's me." He smirked as Sara poked him in the arm. "Meet me back here? Don't stab anyone."

"OK. Don't steal anything."

Sara watched him saunter in the direction of the bar—devil's tail twitching from the seat of his pants-noting with some amusement that, from her reaction, the bartender definitely had been watching him. Well, in all fairness, it's a damn fine view, from either side.

To her faint dismay, even though she knew Leonard was just playing a part like he always did so well, she couldn't help the faintest prickle of jealousy as the bartender leaned toward him, clearly interested, and he leaned back toward her, to all evidence just as intrigued. It's no different than the situation with Valentina Vostok, really, and yet...

Sara turned away with a sigh, painting a smile on her face and heading toward a knot of people in a corner who were apparently playing some sort of boisterous game, scanning the decorations as she went.

And yet, he'd never stolen that kiss, the one she'd challenged him to in the midst of everything that happened at the Vanishing Point. They're still close, even closer than they'd been before, really, but there'd been no more talk of "me and you," nothing more than the usual flirtation and friendship.

Maybe that's all it is.

She can handle that. Really. She can. They're friends. She needs that in her life, and it's good. Really.

Damn it.

People were actually playing "pin the tail on the devil"-using a picture stuck on the wall and a long ribbon tail- in that corner, and it made her smile, remembering their joking earlier. Leonard had snitched the appendage from her once they'd left the bridge, attaching it to a belt loop and making snide Snart comments as he'd done so. She'd fired back with more innuendo, making him grin.

There was no sign of a gargoyle statue anywhere in that corner of the room. She evaded the pleas of a few all-too-obviously single partygoers with a laugh, and turned back to meet Leonard, seeing as she neared that he was holding two drinks and watching her with a very intent gaze.

She accepted the glass of...mmm, a rather nice scotch...he held out to her and lifted a questioning eyebrow at his own drink, a mostly clear liquid with just the faintest cast of blue.

"Something from a local microdistillery," he returned, taking a sip. "Not bad. Our lovely bartender over there recommended it, and since she was just as helpful as can be with information, I decided to take her advice."

"Oh?" Sara eyed him a moment, then took the drink from his hand and sampled one sip, then a bigger one. "Oh, that is good. What information?"

He retrieved it easily. "Well, nothing specific, sadly. But she's a member of the 'service group' that runs this thing, and said they picked up bits and pieces from all over to decorate with. And she specifically mentioned 'this really cool gargoyle statue,' but she's not sure where it ended up."

"So we search. Split up or stick together?"

His eyes held hers as he sipped his drink again. "Stick together. Have you seen the way some of the other guests here are watching you?"

Sara raised her eyebrows at him. "Like I can't take care of myself?"

"Oh, of that I have no worries. But as Hunter said, we need to keep things quiet and..." He let his eyes run over her slowly in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. "...it'd be a real shame if you got someone's blood all over that gorgeous dress."

His voice was very nearly a purr, and although Leonard's never been shy about the way he watches her, there was something ...different...about it this time. Sara studied him in return, feeling a rising heat, then licked her lips and nodded.

"Follow me."

The building was a bit of a labyrinth, with many small rooms set off from the main one, and each of them were full of people drinking and talking, playing party games and otherwise mingling. The light level was low, too, and that made things a little more complicated as far as searching for a single dark statue.

Sara's costume definitely attracted some attention, and she was aware of many admiring eyes as she moved through the crowd. Leonard received the same sort of attention, but he'd been correct—people, seeing the two of them, were definitely coming to the conclusion that they were together.

Together together.

And Leonard was acting like it.

Oh, he wasn't stupid. The first time he settled a hand at her hip to help guide her through the crowd, he gave her a clear, inquiring look first. At her nod, though, those long, talented fingers curved quite firmly right at her hipbone, warm and—not really possessive, she wouldn't have stood for that, but...familiar. And not in a bad way.

Sara took a long, deep breath, and tried to get her head back in the game. Statue. Gargoyle. Mission.

Right.

There was no sign of the item downstairs, so Sara nodded toward the staircase, listening for Leonard's low hum of agreement. She caught Mick's eye as they moved back out into the main room, but the other man just looked bored—and faintly envious as Leonard got another drink from his friend at the bar.

The other woman frowned at Sara as Leonard returned to her side. Sara just smirked at her before taking another drink out of Leonard's glass—and feeling his hand settle at her hip again.

The rooms upstairs were smaller, more intimate, and, well, apparently popular with those looking for a little more privacy. Sara mentally shrugged and decided that if people didn't want to be seen, they shouldn't be doing...whatever... in public. Leonard broke off the contact, though, waiting outside as she strolled right into the first three rooms (getting ignored in the first, drawing a startled yelp in the second, and getting invited to join in in the third) to search, with no luck.

The fourth room was empty. Sara moved inside, scanning the windowsills and mantel, but the fake raven and tarnished candlesticks weren't even worth a second glance. With a sigh, she turned...only to run right into the crook who'd entered the room behind her.

Her hands splayed flat on his chest, his hands came up to cup her elbows, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.

"Another strike out?" Leonard asked finally, not letting go of her arms...well, to be fair, Sara wasn't moving her hands, either.

"Nothing interesting in here," she acknowledged, tilting her head back to get a better look at his expression.

"Well...I don't know that I'd say that..."

It was their usual flirtation, really, but there was something about his tone that made Sara draw in a breath, studying him. And as he moved closer, just a little, she was abruptly certain that he meant to finally steal that kiss...

"Maybe here...whoa! Looks like everyone up here has the same idea!"

The look Leonard shot the laughing group of 20-somethings was downright murderous, but Sara just grabbed his hand, snagged his mostly empty glass from the mantel, and dragged him out of the room, pausing in the hallway to take stock—and, regretfully, chose not to pursue that line of activity more at the moment.

"Back downstairs," she decided, taking another drink before handing it back. "There are more nooks and crannies down there and more people blocking the view. But if this thing is as neat looking as your bartender buddy thought, why would they hide it away?"

"No idea." He gestured for her to precede him down the stairs, and with a laugh, she did so, feeling his eyes on her as she went and putting just a little extra sway into her hips.

Somewhere, in the back of her head, a little voice reminded her that this really isn't the time or the place. And while she didn't quite ignore it, she did, well, tell it to go away for a while.

Downstairs, the spooky soundtrack of before had changed to a more danceable party mix. Sara hummed a bit to herself as she took in the scene, turning to Leonard as he joined her, draining his glass and sitting it on a nearby table.

"Any more thoughts?"

Leonard studied the room, then looked down at her. The interest was still there, strong and steady, stronger than the usual spark they didn't tend to acknowledge.

"Wanna dance, Sara?" he asked in a low tone, echoing her words from months ago in St. Roch.

Yes, but... "We should be looking for the statue."

"We can look from there." He nodded to the dance floor, which hadn't been in use as such before.

Well. She really hadn't gotten a good look at that corner yet. Sara looked up at him through her eyelashes, smirking just a little, and told the responsible little voice in her head to shove it.

"Why not?"

Len smirked back, then, grabbing her hand, led her over to the corner just as the music slowed down a little. Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her very close indeed.

And, yes, he's interested.

Oh, yes.

They'd both completely forgotten Mick.

The other man watched them, blinking in disbelief a few moments before looking suspiciously down at his drink—a beer he shouldn't technically have had due to his façade as security. Nothing seemed to be off about it. Not with it, and not with his eyes.

Except for the fact that he was seeing the Boss and Blondie still out there on the dance floor, acting like the only thing they were aware of in the world was each other. And so close there probably wasn't room for so much as a nickel between them.

Never mind that they were on a mission. They'd all thrown Rip's plans in the toilet before. But while he knew Sara loved to dance—and wasn't shy about getting a little physical-Snart was so circumspect about such matters as to seem as sexless as an icicle to someone who didn't know him.

Oh, Mick had seen lots of women-men too, and folks who he was pretty sure didn't identify with either gender-try to hook up with Snart over the years, and some of them had, he was pretty sure, succeeded. In private. Not right out in the moment, in front of dozens of appreciative eyes.

Man, he'd known Lenny had the hots for her, but…

After another moment, Mick shook his head and thoughtfully tapped the com he'd silenced not long after arriving at the party, when Rip's blathering had finally gotten on his nerves. (He was still surprised it'd taken so long.)

"…Rory? Mr. Snart? Miss Lance?" Rip's sigh echoed heavily over the earpiece. "Do I need to send assistance?" A pause. "Are you even still there, or is there a bar in need of police protection somewhere in Nickel City 2011?"

Mick was impressed. Ol' Rip was capable of quite the Snart-like level of sarcasm when pressed to it.

"Cool your jets, British," he muttered. "We're still here and OK. Um, I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Well, Snart's putting the moves on Blondie." Mick's voice contained a mixture of amusement and surprise. "Don' know how much they're payin' attention to anything else."

Back on the Waverider, Rip and Ray, still the only two on the bridge, stared at each other for a moment in shock. Then Rip, with a sigh even more put-upon than usual, sat down heavily and buried his head in his hands.

"Has Sara stabbed him yet?" he asked, voice muffled by his hands. "Gideon, can you prepare the medbay?"

The AI's affirmative, however, was drowned out by Mick's response.

"Oh hell no." He sounded even more pleased. "She's eggin' him on. They're...whoa."

"'Whoa?'" Rip squeaked.

"Trust me. I don' think you wanna know."

When the music sped back up again, Sara blinked, coming back to herself a little as Leonard's arms dropped away and he took a step back, putting a little space between them again.

As she looked up, though, his eyes were still warm with amusement and desire.

"Want another drink?" he asked her quietly.

"Um, no. I…" She shook her head, remembering where she was and why she was there. "We should go back to looking…"

"In a minute."

Sara, stepping into a clearer part of the room for a moment as he walked away, took a deep breath, then another, trying to clear her head. Watching, she saw Leonard stroll over to the bar, where his friendly bartender handed him another drink even before he asked.

And for the first time, she realized: Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Leonard Snart, child of an abusive alcoholic, was very, very careful about what, and how much, he consumed. Oh, he was fine with a beer or two at a dive bar, or sampling stolen scotch with her and Mick, but he was cautious. Always. She'd seen him truly buzzed all of twice, both times when it was just the two of them, safe in one of their rooms on the ship.

Not here, in public, accepting his third strong drink in an hour from a person he didn't even know.

The dark-haired woman came right out from behind the bar this time, putting her hand on Leonard's arm familiarly and speaking to him. He replied, but then turned away, clearly giving her the brush-off as he headed back toward Sara.

When their eyes met, he smiled at her…and she had to take another deep breath, reminding herself again that something was off.

As her head cleared a little more, Sara turned and looked at Mick, still at his post, and the large amount of concern (and amusement, oh crap, he'd seen everything) in his eyes was yet another sign. She was trying to decide whether it would be better to drag Leonard out of there and statue be damned, when a loud voice behind her announced the imminent start of a new round of party games…and Leonard, glancing past her, paused.

"Is that…?"

Sara, jarred from her thoughts, spun. It only took her a moment to focus in on the man making the announcement and what he was holding.

"The statue," she said with surprise. "They're using it as a trophy? For what?

"Is that…a Twister mat?"

After a moment, Leonard snorted in laughter. "Yep," he drawled, looking down at her. "Well. Might be kind of tough to steal that thing when it's right there with everyone looking at it. Guess we'll have to win it."

If Sara'd had any doubt that this was a Leonard Snart who'd had his inhibitions somehow chemically removed, she didn't now. "Or…I'll distract them, you steal it?"

"What fun is that?"

Sara glanced over at Mick, only to realize that he had his hands full with a guest even larger than him who was apparently trying to pick a fight. (Bad idea, buddy.)

But leaving a drugged, uninhibited Leonard unattended seemed like a worse idea all the time.

"I've got this," she told him sternly. "Let me win this thing and we'll get outta here. I'm flexible."

"Oh, I just bet you are." His eyes were gleaming. "That's why I'm in, too."

The organizer was making a final call for entries.

"Suit yourself."

Consciousness came, blessedly, slowly.

The first thing he was aware of was a faint, somehow distant, headache—nothing debilitating, just annoying. Leonard frowned to himself, moving his head just a little, feeling the familiar surface of a Waverider bed beneath him.

He…couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. Or why he was apparently—from the rustle of fabric as he moved-clothed in something other than his usual T-shirt and sweats.

The thought should have elicited a rush of panic, and it did…but distantly. Like the night before had been a dream, and…

The night before.

Leonard froze, then, without opening his eyes, tried to take further stock of the situation. A feeling of warmth beside him. And the sound of someone else breathing, steady and unalarmed, but not deep enough for slumber.

After a minute, he turned his head and opened his eyes.

Sara was lying next to him, close but not touching, head pillowed on an arm and eyes studying him. She'd changed from her dress into a T-shirt and sweatpants, and her hair was still tousled from sleep.

She looked gorgeous, just as gorgeous as she had the night before if in a different way, but that thought led him back around to…

The memories were surreal and tangled together, and he couldn't quite sort them out, but he could remember enough.

"Oh," he said faintly, "crap."

That led to a smile from Sara, just a small lift in the corners of her mouth without much humor to it. Her eyes were understanding and after a minute, she reached out with her free hand and rested it gently on his shoulder.

"Relax," she said quietly. "You didn't do anything too horrible."

"I..." He closed his eyes again, sorting through dream and reality, increasingly aware that what he'd thought was the former was really the latter. "Twister?"

Sara laughed a little, but not in a way to make him feel more foolish than he already did. Her hand tightened on his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes, her smile was warm and commiserating.

"Well," she said, "after I realized what was going on, I made sure I was the only one to touch you…and that you got knocked out right away." She nibbled her lip. "I'm sorry; I know that's not something you're big on normally, but…"

"It's OK." He meant it, and tried to make sure she heard that in his voice. "Thank you. Um…the statue?"

Sara looked smug. "Won it. Told you I was flexible."

His response to that from the night before chose that moment to resurface in his memories. "Ah." He was still deciding how to continue when Sara did first.

"I only had a few sips of your drinks, so I shook it off a lot quicker. You might have already figured out that it wasn't the alcohol or the liquor itself but something the bartender apparently added," she told him. "It not only made you…lose some inhibitions, but was pretty addictive. Rip has it in his head that she might actually be a practitioner—whatever that really means—and he, Ray and Mick are out right now, investigating whether she was just, ah, trying to get a handsome stranger under the influence or whether she had worse motives in mind." Anger flashed in her eyes. "Either way, she won't be doing it again."

He decided not to ask. "Good."

"Mick and I got you back here and into the medbay, and Gideon took a blood sample and worked up an antidote. She said you might have a slight headache, but you'd be fine once you slept it off. I stayed just to make sure you didn't get up and wander while still…out of it." Sara studied him. "How do you feel?"

"Slight headache. Fine." He gave her a thin smile, then glanced away. "Uncomfortable. Humiliated."

"Leonard." Sara put enough force in her tone that he looked back at her. "You'll never see those people again, OK? Except for me and Mick, and we get it." Her eyes were direct and angry, but he knew it wasn't at him. "And you really didn't do anything that bad, anything that anyone who didn't know you would think twice about. You didn't even act drunk. Just…"

Her voice trailed off and he closed his eyes again, remembering with increasing clarity his hand on her hip, the near-miss of a kiss, their bodies moving together on the dance floor, and tangled…

A breath left his lungs in a whoosh. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. But…you don't have to be."

Leonard opened his eyes and peered at her. Sara didn't look angry anymore, but she did look uncertain. And…determined?

"Gideon analyzed the mixture you—we-were drugged with," she said. "She said...that it wouldn't make us do anything we weren't inclined to do anyway. Although maybe not in front of a bunch of people. Just lowered inhibitions."

In other words, Sara knew perfectly well that the desire he'd shown last night had been real. Far more blatant than he'd ever managed to show before, but…real.

And she didn't seem upset at all. In fact, she'd had a few drinks too, and she'd been…

She'd been reacting the same way he had.

Leonard studied her for a long moment, and Sara studied him in return.

"And your feelings on that?" he said finally, rolling onto his side and facing her.

Sara smiled a little, and it was a real smile this time. "I guess I just wonder why you didn't act on it before that," she said. "I'd thought you'd changed your mind. About me and you." He started to speak, but she continued before he could manage to get the words out. "But the man I saw last night, he didn't have much doubt about what he wanted."

"I…don't."

"Then…?"

The kiss this time is relatively brief, a touch of lips, a flicker of tongues, but there's a hint of the fire they'd both let out last night in it, and they're both breathing a little heavily when they part.

Sara recovered first. "You know…" She gave him a mischievous look through her lashes. "You're actually a really good dancer. Should have taken me up on the offer all those months ago."

"Ah…well, don't expect it to happen again."

"Awww, no?"

"Well…," he conceded, leaning forward to kiss her again. "…maybe not in public."