"So…" She hates the way that her voice drifts up at the end like it's a question – she hates the way her fingers flinch back to play with the ends of her hair. She's not a little girl any more, she's got a daughter of her own, she's thir--- she hasn't been his intern for years.

"So," He replies, his thumb swiping the side and ball of his nose. She feels a faint tremor of fear at the familiar gesture – and a bit of amusement too.

"Did you watch The Sting a lot as a kid," She asks impulsively, enjoying the stunned look on his face that she put there. "Because you're doing it wrong, it's supposed to mean 'It's okay', not -- " She sputters to a stop as he snarls, swiping his nose again.

"Barbie, back on the subject."

Crap, do we have to? She wants to whine like a petulant teenager. She wants to pretend Jordan had never come to her, had never said anything about this ---

"I don't know what got into her head, honestly. You two have been so wonderful to Quinn and I, and I can't repay you – but what she – It's not normal! Not what she wants – not outside of really kinky novels and movies," She blushes, realizing how she must sound, something she's prided herself on improving, "Not that Jordan's a freak or anything ---"

She expects an angry rebuke, or a cold glare before he walks out of the room – either of which would be a normal occurrence in her family.

"You've known her for ten years; you're not supposed to be able to figure her out. I've been with her for over twenty--" He looks over his shoulder quickly, as if expecting Jordan to appear over his shoulder. " – years, and I still don't know what goes through her head."

"So what do we do?"

He looks as if he's suddenly aged another decade in the space of a blink – or maybe it's just the fact that the shroud of intense energy has been dropped, revealing the tired man underneath it.

"I don't know, Barbie, I just don't know," bright blue eyes lock with hers, flares of that intensity striking her. "Do you care about her?"

She opens her mouth to deny it, because she's not a lesbian – except for the way her stomach flutters whenever Jordan looks up at her with one eyebrow raised. Or the touch of Jordan's hand on her shoulder. Watching Jordan help Jenny braid Quinn's hair, even if it was off kilter and lopsided, the rare smile that Jordan had given her when she caught her eye –

Of course there is also the man before her, who once, long ago, socked Dr. Kelso for her before marching out the door to see his son. The man who bullied and pushed her, yet took her side against his prize student – who opened his home to her daughter and her, who helped find her new work –

She moves to sit beside him on the couch, and when his only response is to raise an eyebrow (What was with this family and frickin' eyebrows? Even Quinn was starting to pick it up) she leans into him.

Their lips brush and lock, her fingers reach up and twine in his hair, and she feels his rough palm resting gently on the back of her neck.

They mutually break from each other with a loud gasp, each careful not to make eye contact.

"I can't believe I touched red hair…" She whimpers under her breath, staring at her fingers in horror.

"Always knew you were a racist, Barbie," Perry grumbles.

"If I'm racist, you're sexist. Barbie my ass, I don't keep my kidneys in a handbag," She grumbles back.

He chuckles softly at that, an amused glint in his eye.

"If you make her happy, then I'm not going to stand in your way."

"Even if you're miserable?"

"Bar – Elliot, I'm always miserable, what's new?"

She has nothing to say to that, instead reaching out to place her hand on top of his.

"We'll make this work," She declares.

They do.