A/N I had a lot of trouble naming this story. All feedback is welcome! . And just thank you for reading.

Disclaimer: Show and characters belong to Dick Wolf, not me, I'm just having a wee bit o' fun.

Fixing New Year's Eve

gorenrocks

It was a cold but clear mid-December evening. I was pleased, because it wouldn't be as hard to catch a cab to meet my dinner date.

Brian Richman and I had met through a mutual acquaintance who was a lawyer. Brian wasn't an attorney; he worked in corporate investments. At first I was a little nervous about that, remembering Jack Crawley and Tuxedo Hill, but Brian and I talked over coffee and I felt reassured and fairly confident he was legit. By the end of our third cup, I was totally wired and he'd talked me into dinner the next Friday night.

And that Friday night was tonight. I peered into the bathroom mirror at 1PP, checked my makeup, and brushed my hair. I felt satisfied, my confidence buoyed by the slinky red dress I'd changed into, because I knew it complimented my complexion and hid a multitude of sins. I just had to grab my coat and catch a cab. I still had plenty of time.

I'd just about reached my desk when I froze. There was Goren, peering at his computer screen, engrossed in God only knows what. My mouth went dry like it was full of ash. We'd already said good night to each other. He'd told me he was leaving! I hadn't told him I had a date and I had felt… oddly relieved that I got out of explaining it to him. And now here I stood, guilty as sin, although I'd be damned if I knew why.

Goron stopped squinting at the screen, and his brow un-furrowed. His sleepy gaze became unfocused. About ten seconds after that, his head snapped up and his eyes bored into me.

"Eames?" he rasped.

"Hi, Bobby," I replied, with practiced ease. I strolled over, as if for me, wearing a flirty little dress at work was the most normal behavior in the world.

Of one thing I am sure - I will never forget the look on his face as long as I lived on planet earth.

"Wha-what? I-I, that is, you," Bobby sputtered and squirmed, and looked away from me. Then he roughly pushed his chair back from his desk and stood. He came and stood in front of me, and then quite unabashedly, he gave me a thorough once-over. Then he did it again. "Wow, Eames. You look great."

I wondered exactly why it was I started having a total body hot flash. I covered my throat with my hand in case I suddenly broke out in heat rash.

"Thank you." I smiled sweetly.

"Is he taking you someplace nice?"

How could he know, I mean just know, with utter certainty, that I was going on a date. For Christ's sake. Of course he knew. He's Bobby.

"Yes, he is." I told Bobby the name of the restaurant.

Goren nodded.

He turned his back on me then, and I wondered, why didn't I just tell him earlier? Did I hurt his feelings? Did I plunge a dagger in his heart? I was beginning to panic: I had to think about something else. I looked down at my outrageous heels, thinking about the ridiculous amount of money I paid for shoes, and how already my feet hurt. Then I felt something, like a thousand little bursts of static electricity going off at once, combined with the scent of Bobby's cologne.

He stood just about an inch from me, holding my coat.

"Let me help you with this."

Bobby moved behind me and I slid back my arms. I could feel the entire length of his body, warm against mine, as he pulled the cloth over my shoulders. I felt his fingers brush my neck as he straightened my collar. I shivered from my breasts to my toes.

Still behind me, he squeezed my arms. His warm breath tickled my ear. "Are you warm enough, Eames? You didn't wear a scarf today. You can have mine."

Warm enough? I stood frozen and unable to move. He grabbed his own scarf and returned to stand directly in front of me. My coat was still unbuttoned, and he spread it open. He gently tucked in the scarf, around my neck, arranging it carefully, with the lightest touches and brushes on my body. Then starting at the bottom, he fastened all my coat buttons, save for the top two. By the time he was done, I was shivering so violently I had to clench my teeth to keep them from chattering.

"There," he said, almost whispering. "All set. Unless, you want," he gestured with his hand, "you want to go check for yourself in the mirror."

"No, no." I willed my voice to remain steady. "It's perfect. I can tell." Our eyes met, finally, and we just stared at each other for a moment.

"What time is he picking you up?"

I hesitated. "Well, um," I started.

"Or is he sending a car?"

"Bobby, don't be ridiculous. I'm meeting him there. I'm getting a cab."

He frowned. His large hand curled around the back of his neck, and he paced a few steps.

"Bobby! Stop it! I'm a cop - a major case detective! I'm not a helpless-"

"Of course you're not helpless. But you're not on duty. You're not working. This isn't a case." He held out his hand, beckoning me to come with him. "Come on. I'll get you a cab."

"Bobby!" I protested, but was already walking with him to the elevator. His hand rested at the small of my back.

"Eames." he answered. I glared up at him, and he smiled boyishly down at me. I looked away quickly so he couldn't see me grinning.

Our excellent meal was finished, and I laughed again, at another one of Brian's inane jokes. He had a steady repertoire of them, a non-ending stream, it seemed. I couldn't remember talking about much anything seriously. And we'd both had a lot to drink.

"Do you want another drink, Alex?" Brian motioned for the waiter, who appeared instantly.

"No, Brian. I think it's time for me to slow down. But I'll have a cup of coffee."

"Make it an Irish coffee?"

"I better not-"

"How about just one, have one with me?"

"Alright, but just one, and no more!"

Brian was forty-one, and had been divorced five years. He was a self-described workaholic who'd been too busy to remarry. He seemed to be in good shape, he was about five foot ten inches tall, with short blonde hair and dark brown eyes. I took a moment to study him a bit closer, while he spoke to the waiter. He was attractive enough in his charcoal gray suit, he looked younger than forty-one. He wasn't big on eye contact, which struck me a little odd. With all his jokes and all the drinks, I still didn't know very much about him. But I'd had some fun. I was really tired now, though. And after this coffee, I wanted to go home.

"So where would you like to go next, Alex? Dancing? A jazz bar? You name it."

"Ah, Brian." I sipped my coffee. "This was a great night, and I had a lot of fun. But after this, I'm going to have to go home. I'm very tired. It's been a long day."

"Oh no! Already?" I was a bit startled by his sudden intensity. I met his gaze as Brian stared at me, his expression one of disbelief. He grasped both my hands, his were cold. "I was hoping to spend more time with you tonight, Alex. I hate to end it so soon."

"Thank you, and it would be fun. But it's almost one AM. I'm sorry, but I honestly am exhausted. I hope you can understand."

Brian closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them and smiled. He released my hands and I surprised myself by how quickly I pulled them away to my lap.

"Of course I understand, Alex. I just hope that I can see you again, soon. Later this week?"

"That would be nice, Brian. Call me."

I was finally home, and it was nearly two AM. I checked for cell phone messages and had one from Goren. He told me that he hoped I had a good time, and if for any reason I wanted to talk, I could call him at any time, no matter how late. He'd probably be awake.

Pleased, and I smiled and hit the return call.

"Hey," he answered.

"Hey," I said.

So how was it?

"It was fine. Alright. I'm tired."

"Just alright?"

"Yeah. I don't know. I don't remember."

"Are you drunk?"

"Just a little."

"Are you okay, Alex?"

Oooooh! Alex! but I didn't tease him about it.

"Yes, I'm fine. I promise. Just a little woozy."

"Woozy, Eames?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that, Goren?"

I heard him laugh. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Maybe. Probably to rule him out."

"That bad?"

"Not bad, not exactly. He's just," not you.

Jesus Christ, I was going to have a stroke. Or sudden major heart failure. Did I just say that out loud? I almost just ended the called without saying goodbye, intending to deny everything in the morning. Just in time, Bobby calmly said, "Just what, Eames?"

Thank God! I must not have said it! Or I would have heard Bobby having seizure.

"He's just not Mr. Right."

I heard him laugh again.

"I'm glad to amuse you, Bobby. Is that why you wanted me to call?"

"I'm always happy when you call, Eames."

I paused, not quite sure what to say to that. It was all catching up with me, the alcohol, my exhaustion, the stimulation of the evening. I had to close my eyes, pray for sleep, block it all out for a while.

I settled for, "Well that was the right answer this time, Goren. You get extra credit points."

"Even so, I think I'm still in the red."

"Hmmm, I'll work it out on Monday."

"Alright. Good night, Eames. Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Bobby. And thank you."

"For what?"

I heard him say it but this time I did end the call. We both knew what I was thanking him for. I never thanked him enough.

Our conversation had relaxed me and made me feel warm. I knew I'd sleep well tonight, and if I were lucky, I'd dream sweet dreams, too.

TBC