Author's Note: Thanks again to those who have been reading, and who have been so patient with me in finishing this fic. I hope it's been as enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write. Comments are like gold.

It was nearly dusk again before she was able to go home, take a shower and change into her most comfortable lounge-around-the-house clothes: fleece top and shorts and her fuzzy socks. She and Carlton both had the next day off from work, and she planned on taking full advantage of the time off, starting with comfort food and alcohol. She found a frozen macaroni and cheese dinner buried in her freezer and ate it accompanied with two glasses of wine, trying to concentrate on the accomplishments of the day: Copeland in jail and highly unlikely to make bail again, Arianna safe, and maybe, hopefully, a new start in her relationship with Carlton. Not, perhaps, the new start she wanted, but at this point she would be grateful to just get their partnership – their friendship - back into working order.

She had caught him several times over the course of the day watching her, his expression soft with concern, and she knew he had to be worried over her erratic behavior on the roof. She wasn't worried herself, though; maybe her actions had seemed dramatic or out-of-character, but afterwards she had felt lighter, free of at least some of the fear that had plagued her since the clock tower.

She had just settled down with a Law & Order marathon when her doorbell rang.

She was genuinely surprised to see Carlton standing on her doorstep. "What are you doing here?"

"Facing MY fears," he said. "May I come in?"

She ushered him in, a tiny flicker of hope igniting in her chest.

He didn't say anything after she closed the door, and her initial impulse to offer him a drink or ask him to sit down died in her throat as she saw the way he was studying her. He was still wearing the suit he'd worn to work that day, minus the jacket and tie. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and his hair was mussed like he had been running his hand through it.

It was, she thought idly, kind of stupid how attractive that was, so she tried to picture him pacing agitatedly around his apartment before coming over, muttering to himself about what he was going to say to her, because she was certain that was exactly what had happened, to see if that somehow dampened his attractiveness, but it didn't.

The next words out of his mouth, however, almost did the trick.

"It would be insane," he said suddenly, like he couldn't hold it in anymore. "You're insane. You're suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress. Or you got to invested in pretending that we were married for our undercover assignment."

Juliet didn't know whether she should laugh or throw something at him. She settled for crossing her arms and glaring . "You came all this way on our night off to tell me that I'm insane?"

"Yes! I'm sure we can get you some kind of help. Therapy, or drugs..."

"You want to put me on drugs."

He nodded. "Whatever's best for delusions."

"We were undercover weeks ago for barely 24 hours and you think I might have gone all Donnie Brasco on you?" It was funny, she thought, how she was able to maintain such a rational, even tone when she could feel that flicker of hope turning into fury at his bullheadedness.

"I admit, PTSD seems the more likely culprit, but I can't rule out any possibilities."

She took a deep, calming breath. It didn't work, but it at least allowed her to keep her pleasant tone. "Carlton. I'm not delusional. I might be insane, but if I am, it's only because you've made me that way."

"I'm just trying to look out for your best interests, O'Hara," he said desperately. "There's obviously something wrong with you."

"Me?" she yelled incredulously, finally dropping her pretense of calm. "There's nothing wrong with me! You, on the other hand...you're paranoid and cranky and stubborn as hell and you have too many guns and your politics drive me crazy and your squirrel fixation is disturbing and what the hell did Olympia Dukakis ever do to you, huh? And worst of all, you would rather choke on your own pride than admit you're wrong about something!"

He nodded, his expression shuttering. "Good. Great. I'm glad you're back to normal." He started to reach for the door handle, but she stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"Wait. I'm not done."

"O'Hara, I'm fully capable of listing my faults even better than you can. If you don't mind, I'll save you the trouble and do it myself at my place with a bottle of Scotch."

She tightened her grip. "You're also loyal and dedicated and so goddamned brave that it scares me sometimes, and you're the best friend I've ever had, Carlton, and the last thing I want to do is lose you." She took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. "The thought of not having you as a partner at work anymore scares me, and I know that's the price we would have to pay for pursuing anything more. I don't want you to think that's something I take lightly. But…" she put her hand against his face, wishing that there was some way that she could convince him of her sincerity beyond just words. "I can't pretend that my feelings for you haven't grown beyond friendship. I love you, Carlton."

He reached over and brushed his thumb across her cheek, his expression one of stunned amazement. "You..Juliet, this is such a bad idea for so many reasons." But he was leaning towards her, and she reached up to slide her arms around his neck

"I know," she agreed, "and you can tell me all about those reasons tomorrow, if you want. But for tonight could you please just…"

He kissed her and she sighed against his mouth, more out of relief than anything else because he wasn't denying this anymore. She tugged his hand to pull him further into the apartment, leading him to the couch. "Do you want a drink or something? I have wine—"

He kissed her again and she forgot all about the wine, and the couch too, and started pulling him towards her bedroom instead.

He stopped kissing her, which was very disappointing. "Where are we going?" he asked cautiously.

She plucked at his shirt a little, pulling it out of the waistband of his slacks so that she could get her hands on warm, firm, skin. "Where do you think?"

He sucked in a breath at the sensation of her hands on him, but still he hesitated. "Are you sure, O'Hara?"

She liked, she really, really liked the way he felt under her hands, though she thought that she might like it even better if he lost the shirt altogether. "I am so very, very, sure," she told him, and gave up her exploration of his stomach and back—with a note to return to it later, obviously—to pull him into another kiss, slow and deep, trying to convince him without words that she was more certain about this than she had ever been about anything in her life.

When she slid her hands back under his shirt so that she could scrape her fingernails gently down on his chest, catching the peak of a hardened nipple as she did so, he moaned against her mouth, then pulled back far enough that she could see how glassy his eyes were. "Okay, you've talked me into it," he said, and she took his hand to lead him to her bed.

She was briefly overcome with a sudden attack of shyness when they reached the bedroom, but then he was kissing her again and she felt like she was going to melt, or combust, or something equally ridiculous if she didn't have him right now.

She fell back onto the bed, and for just a moment he stood over her, looking her over like he couldn't believe this was happening, and Juliet shuddered with pure want at the heat in his eyes.

"O'Hara," he said, and she was, no joke, going to punch him in the nose if he asked her again if she was sure about this, or suggested that this wasn't a good idea. But all he said was "Scoot back a little," and when she did, he was on the bed with her, kissing her again, and she felt her panic that he was going to back out of this subside, because he didn't seem the least bit interested in stopping.

His large, warm hands pushed the soft fleece of her shirt up, and she gasped as he palmed one of her breasts, the slightly calloused thumb rubbing across her nipple, making her arch eagerly into his touch. She pulled urgently at the buttons of his shirt, wanting to finally have the freedom to explore him without any impediment. While she divested him of his shirt, he sucked at the soft skin of her neck, biting gently and making her moan.

She ran her hands across the smooth, hard muscles of his back, a little thrill going through her as she took in his broad shoulders and well-formed arms. Maybe she should hide all of his shirts, so he would be forced to walk around without one all the time. She resolved to remember that idea later, when she could give it more thought, because it was growing increasingly difficult to think when he was kissing the soft skin of her belly, skipping past her shorts to plant light kisses along the exposed skin of her inner thigh. Her clit gave an interested throb as he edged a little higher, nosing along the hem of one leg of her shorts.

"Holy crap," she gasped, "Carlton..."

"Juliet," he said softly, "relax."

"I'm not sure I can when you're...down there," she admitted, which she knew was ridiculous since she had been the one pushing for this. But having him actually here, about to cross this huge barrier between them...it was overwhelming. A little bit terrifying, even.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" she said immediately, before he even had the sentence out.

He smiled at her then, a warm and intimate kind of smile that she didn't think she'd ever seen from him before. "Then let me make you feel good, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, and then he was tugging the shorts and underwear down and tossing them to the side, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. He paused then, swallowing hard and closing his eyes briefly.

"Everything okay, partner?" she asked apprehensively.

"Yeah," he said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously, "I just can't believe this is actually happening."

Somehow, his nerves made her feel more at ease. "Oh, it's happening. Or at least it will be if you get a move on," she teased.

"You think we're moving too slow?" he asked, pulling her knees apart and moving between her legs, and her capacity for coherent thought took a look at the situation and called it a night.

"I don't...I think...oh my god, CARLTON," she yelped as he bent his head and licked her right where she was wettest and hottest.

He took his time about it, and she felt like she was experiencing some kind of sensory overload—the feeling of his mouth, hot and greedy against her, the long, soft swipes of his tongue, the sensation of his hair brushing against the inside of her thighs, his hands stroking along her hips down to her calves—the orgasm hit her like a bolt of electricity traveling up her spine and shorting out her brain.

And he didn't stop. In fact, he seemed to redouble his efforts. It struck her that he was as confident here as he was at the shooting range or in the interrogation room. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to him, and when he finally slid a finger into her and she came for the second time, it was like feeling parts of herself sparking to life that had been numb for months; she could feel the euphoria all the way down to her toes.

When Carlton raised his head to look at her, he found her with her hands over her face and her shoulders shaking, and he felt sick with panic.

"Juliet! Are you all right? Did I do something..." he stopped as she lowered her hands so that he could see that she was...

"Are you laughing?" he asked in disbelief. "Was it so bad that it was funny?"

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, still giggling but trying to stop because he looked completely freaked out. "It's just...that was soooo..." she gave up trying to find words to describe how good she felt, how amazing that had been, because no words were adequate."Come here," she said instead, and reached for him to pull him into a kiss, tasting herself on his lips, still smiling as aftershocks continued to zing along her nerve endings. After a moment he relaxed into the kiss, apparently deciding that she wasn't laughing at him after all, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in closer, feeling him hard against her.

"I want to make you smile too," she said, not even caring how cheesy that sounded, as she reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stopped her before she could do more than unbutton them.

"Wait," he said hoarsely, "do you have...I need..."

"Oh god, I wasn't thinking. Medicine cabinet," she gasped, and started to sit up. "I'll get it."

"No, I'll do it," he said, and she flopped gratefully back down, because she wasn't certain her legs could hold her up right now anyway.

Lassiter was actually relieved for the opportunity to back off for a minute so that he could try to regain some semblance of control. He leaned against the sink, breathing hard, with the taste of her in his mouth, the fresh memory of how it felt to have her writhing with pleasure beneath him, moaning his name, and oh god, he was going to screw this up somehow. Sure, she had seemed to enjoy herself so far—the laughing threw him at first, but in the end it seemed like such a Juliet reaction—but that didn't mean that there wasn't still time for him to completely—

"Carlton! Stop thinking and get in here and do me!"

Right. His partner was waiting on him. He quickly opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the box of condoms he found there, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he did: flushed face and dilated eyes and a smile almost as wide as the one Juliet had been sporting a few minutes ago, because for all his nerves, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this happy.

Back in the bedroom, he found Juliet pulling off the sweatshirt that he had failed to remove from her before, and his brain shorted out at the sight of her perfect breasts and hard nipples and the pretty blush spreading across her creamy skin.

She smirked at him, raising an eyebrow at the box in his hand. "You brought the whole box? Good thinking."

"Don't get too excited," he warned her. "I'm not seventeen anymore."

"Good," she sighed, pulling him back onto the bed with her. "Seventeen year olds don't know what the hell they're doing."

"You do this with a lot of seventeen year olds?" he asked, running his hand down her side, loving how responsive she was to his touch.

She punched him in the arm. "Don't be gross. I wouldn't call it a lot."

"Ow! I don't know what you have in mind, O'Hara, but my safe word is 'vegetarian'."

She snorted with laughter and kissed him, her mouth urgent and greedy on his, and any uncertainty he might of felt faded in the face of her sureness. He kissed her chin, her throat, licked at the soft undersides of her breasts, and allowed himself a moment of smugness at the way she gasped when he took one of her nipples into his mouth.

This time he didn't stop her when she reached for his zipper, and it was his turn to gasp at the sensation of her warm hand wrapping around his cock, closing his eyes and willing himself to think of unsexy, cliche things like crime statistics and liberals (except Juliet probably considered herself a liberal, and she was the very definition of sexy to him, so his logic was tangled and confused and maybe this wasn't the best time to try and figure out an issue this complicated). Her hand moved achingly slow on him, her lips leaving a trail of soft, fluttery kisses down his chest, and this couldn't possibly be happening, Juliet O'Hara touching him intimately, her eyes glowing with lust. He slid a hand between her legs, finding her slick and hot, and she released him to reach for the box on the nightstand.

"I can't wait anymore," she whispered against his mouth, like it was the dirtiest secret she had ever shared, "I want you, Carlton."

Her hands were trembling so badly that she dropped the silver packet that she pulled out of the box onto the bed, and he picked it up only to find that he was shaking too. She smiled then, clasping his hand against her chest.

"We'll do it together," she said softly. "Isn't that how we work best?"

He nodded dumbly as she tore open the packet and handed him the condom, her hand following his down to smooth it onto him, and then she was wrapping her legs around him and welcoming him inside, arching up to meet him, and he could only look down at her in wonder.

"Wow," she gasped, "wow, Carlton,"

"Yeah," he agreed, rocking into her, because wow indeed. She stretched beneath him, her head tilting back on the pillow exposing the column of her throat, and he leaned down and sucked at the soft skin there. He could feel her legs tightening around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, then her hands moving to his face to bring him to her for a kiss, her tongue sliding along his in a way that had him seeing stars.

He wished he could stretch this moment out forever, but when her body clenched and shook around him he was a goner.

Afterwards—after he had rolled off of her so that he didn't crush her, after he had discarded the condom in the trashcan on the other side of her nightstand, after she had curled up against him—he wrapped his arms around her and sighed.

"So, what was it you called this before? A team-building exercise, right?"

She laughed and patted him on the chest. "I've never felt so in sync with you, partner. But," she said gravely, "I'm afraid we're going to have to do it again." She held up her foot so that he could see that she was still wearing her fuzzy socks. "You didn't even get me all the way naked this time."

He rolled over, pinning her to the bed. "What an embarrassing oversight," he agreed. "We'll just have to keep doing it until we get it right."

***

He woke up some time later to the sensation of Juliet's tongue dragging across one of his nipples. He gasped, and she smiled up at him.

"I hope you don't mind that I woke you up."

"Best wake-up call ever," he said sincerely, tangling his hands in her hair as he brought her up for a kiss. She sighed happily against his mouth, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest, before she pulled away and sat up, straddling his upper thighs and trying not to laugh at the way his gaze bounced between her face and her breasts.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," she admitted, scraping her fingernails lightly down his chest, feeling the tickle of crisp hair against her fingertips.

"I wouldn't have stopped you," he said breathlessly, and she smirked, her hands still stroking downward but deliberately avoiding his cock, which lay flushed and hard against his stomach. She tickled his ribs instead, making him squirm beneath her.

"Yes you would have. You would have said 'O'Hara, keep your hands to yourself!' and chastised me for being unprofessional."

"No I wouldn't...I...Juliet, please..." he trailed off into incoherence as she finally wrapped her hand around him. She bent forward, kissed his stomach and licked around his belly button, making him moan, before she sat up again.

"Speaking of professionalism," she said sternly, "there's something work-related that I've been meaning to discuss with you."

"And you want to talk about it now?" he gasped.

She nodded, leaning down again, close enough so that he could feel her warm breath on his erection.

"Yes." She rubbed her palm over the head of his cock.

"Juliet! Jesus, I can't..."

She raised her head to look at him, because god he was hot, moreso even than usual at the moment, before returning to the business at hand, so to speak.

"Carlton," she paused to run her tongue down and then back up the length of him, enjoying the way he arched and jerked, his hands tightening in her hair, "I think it's time we discussed the benefits of you letting me drive more often," she said, and finally took him into her mouth.

(Later, he would argue that under the circumstances, he would agree to anything she wanted, and that her methods were cheating. She would ask him if he wanted her to stop, and he would say that fair play was overrated and that he was perfectly fine with cheating.) (The next time they had to go to a crime scene, she drove.)

The next time he woke up he found the other side of the bed empty, and after pulling on his pants he followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee to her kitchen, where she sat with a mug in her hand and her head bent over a newspaper, a scene so domestic and comforting that it made him weak in the knees. She turned towards him, relaxed and content. "I didn't know what you would want for breakfast. I have cereal, and some bananas, and yogurt, and eggs, and bread for toast."

"Just coffee is good right now," he said, reaching into the cabinet where she kept the mugs.

She bit into her own piece of toast. "You should eat something," she said mildly. "You need to keep your strength up."

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Why? Am I going to be doing something strenuous today?"

She shrugged, struggling not to smile. "You never know."

He decided that she was right and helped himself to a bowl of cereal, stealing the front page of the newspaper away from her as he sat down.

"Hey!" she protested, snatching it back, "Mine!"

He sighed theatrically. "Is this what it's going to be like every morning, O'Hara? You hogging the paper and forcing me to make my own breakfast?"

She didn't bother to hold back her smile this time. "Every morning?"

He blushed and applied himself to eating his cereal. After a moment, he looked up to see that she was still smiling. In fact, if he were of a less practical bent, he might even think that she was glowing.

"Every morning," she said again. "I like the sound of that."

He did too, but all this sunny optimism went against his nature. "We'll have to talk to Vick tomorrow," he reminded her, and she sobered, nodding.

"I know. I'm not looking forward to it, but I know that it has to be done. But can we save that for tomorrow?" She reached over and caught his hand in hers. "Today, I'd like to just enjoy this. I thought we might…" she paused, not sure if she should say what she was thinking or not. She knew that he valued his private time, and that sometimes he needed to be alone to process events after they happened.

"Thought we might what?" he asked curiously.

She went to the sink to put her dishes away, endeavoring to sound casual. "I was planning to go to the Farmer's Market this morning and I was hoping you might come with me. And then I thought we could maybe go by your place so you pick up some clothes so that you could stay here another night," she said in a rush. "But you don't have to if you don't want to! It's up to you, really."

He paused, his spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth. "You want me to stay again tonight?"

"Only if you want to!" she stressed. "I understand if you already have plans for the day, or if you want some time to yourself."

He pushed the cereal away and stood up abruptly, going to where she stood. "Why would you think that I wouldn't want to stay again tonight?"

"I just want you to know that it's okay if you need space."

He considered her for a moment, then reached forward to run his hand through her hair, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly on the forehead. "Maybe I didn't make this clear last night," he said, "but I am crazy in love with you. I'll do whatever you want me to do, Juliet."

"Oh," she said breathlessly. "Okay, then. I think what I want you to do right now is kiss me."

He happily obliged, and when she capable of thought again she found that she was sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs wrapped loosely around him and no memory of how she had gotten there.

"Anything I want, huh?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I'll admit, so far it's been very easy to follow through on that."

"So if I want you to spend the weekend with me, you'll do it?"

He kissed her ear, nipping it lightly. "Yes."

"And if I ask you to go shopping with me to help me pick out a new comforter for my bed, you'll say yes?"

He traced a delicate path along her jaw with his lips, stopping only to nod and say "yes."

"And if I want you to come to the pound with me when I go to adopt a kitten—no, two kittens, so they can keep each other company while I'm at work—you'll do it?"

That one did make him pause, pulling back far enough to look her in the eye. "Seriously, O'Hara?"

"I miss having cats," she said. "You'll like them, Carlton. Cats are very self-sufficient and they don't take crap from anyone."

"Fine," he sighed. "Yes."

She threaded her fingers through his hair, liking the way he shivered a little at her touch. "And if, one day in the completely indeterminate future, I want to go on a real honeymoon with you, do you think you might do that?"

"O'Hara," he said, as he bent to kiss her again, "I'd be honored."

The End