A/N: This takes place between Michael's phone call to Sam and the end of "Enemies Closer." It's not going to be complete smut, but yes, I am going to go there.

I'd love to hear what you think!

Oh and I don't own these characters, the awesome Matt Nix does. I'm just happy to borrow them for a little while.

************

"Sam, can you meet me at the loft? We're gonna celebrate your genius!"

His first phone call finished, Michael Westen stared at his phone. Speed Dial 1 would get him the next person he needed to talk to, but for some reason his finger hesitated over the key.

He would normally have called her first, but this was not a normal situation. She had walked away from him. Told him she "couldn't be with him right now." Said he should call Sam if he needed help with his meeting. She had been right, of course. But he had denied it until Sam had done the same, telling him to "call Fi" if he needed help.

So Michael needed the reassurance that his buddy Sam was still with him before he called Fiona. If she protested all he'd have to do is mention that Sam was on his way to the loft and she'd hop right in her car and rush over. Fiona Glenanne hated to be bested by anyone, and she certainly wasn't going to be bested by Sam Axe. Especially when it involved Michael.

Chiding himself for being silly, he pressed the 1 key and listened to the ring. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous about something not involving guns, explosives, and the chance that he might end up dead.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fiona sat at Carlito's, trying to relax and have some lunch. A Bloody Mary sat untouched in front of her as she poked at the salad on her plate. She should have known better than to come to Carlito's. It was a normal place for her to choose, but she hadn't thought about how often she was there with Michael.

Michael. She knew she had made the right choice but being apart from him made her feel unsettled. Whatever their relationship, since their reunion in Miami things just seemed to work better when they were on the same side. She'd never tell him that, of course.

Another part of the problem was that she was tired. She hadn't been sleeping well since she told Michael she couldn't be with him. She always slept better when she was next to Michael. She'd never admit it but being wrapped in his strong arms all night made her feel safe. Even if they didn't have sex, just laying next to him brought her comfort. That was one thing she had gotten used to—ever since her kidnapping he had wanted her close by whenever possible. As a result, they had spent almost every night together, alternating between her apartment and the loft. She desperately missed that.

Her phone trilled the ring tone that meant Michael was calling. She stared at the phone before hitting "Ignore." Right now if she talked to him he would know she wasn't herself. She'd listen to his voicemail and return the call later. She was surprised to hear the phone ring again almost immediately.

Taking a deep breath, Fiona pressed the green button and raised the phone to her ear.

"Fi?"

"Hello, Michael."

"Can you meet me at the loft?"

"Will Larry be there?"

"No, Fi, I'm done with him. But I can't tell you anything else right now. Will you please come to the loft?"

She sighed deeply. "Michael…"

"Please, Fi. Sam is on his way."

"I'll be right there."
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fiona arrived at the loft, using her key to let herself in. Sam and Michael sat facing each other, Michael's punching bag between them. Fiona took a seat on the bed, briefly catching Michael's eyes. She didn't know how to read them. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and watched Sam and Michael as they removed the money Larry had stolen from the punching bag, filling her in on recent events as they did so.

Michael's apology had caught Fiona somewhat off guard, but what he said next was REALLY unexpected.

"You let him crawl inside your head and make a nest," she said.

"There's a part… there's a part of me that's like him. But it's just a part. And it gets smaller the longer I'm with you," he said, looking straight in her eyes the whole time. With Sam sitting right there! Sam had also been watching her the whole time, a bit uncomfortable at being present for such an atypically emotional statement from his best friend.

Fiona needed to make sure Michael was done with Larry, and the relief she felt when he said, "I want him gone" was reflected in the huge smile on her face. The smile only grew larger when Michael asked her to help him make a "very special bomb."

Excited at the prospect of helping Michael again, Fiona quickly left the loft to gather some supplies. Sam took off shortly after Fiona, leaving Michael to finalize his plan and wait for Fiona to return. He stretched out on the bed for a quick nap as he waited. He also hadn't been sleeping well the past few days. Not being in touch with Fiona made him very uneasy. He just slept better when she was next to him. Even on the nights they just slept, her head on his chest, her breath lightly brushing his shoulder—it made things feel right.

Truth be told these days he felt uneasy whenever he didn't know where Fiona was. He almost felt like he needed to have her in his sight at all times, which of course wasn't possible. He would never tell her that, of course; he valued his life too much. But she came to Miami because of him, she stayed in Miami because of him, and now she couldn't go back to Ireland. So that made her his responsibility. And he took that very seriously.

Once upon a time Fiona Glenanne was an asset. Michael McBride had caused a lot of chaos and destruction with her. Even Michael Westen, Spy Extraordinaire who rarely slept in the same place for more than a month, had managed to keep the personal relationship in check. But Michael Westen, Burned Spy who was trapped in Miami, was not so good at avoiding the personal involvement. He had tried. Everyone who knew him knew he had tried. But she was his and there was no denying that now. He was just thankful that she had forgiven him and agreed to help him again. He had missed her.

The loft sprang to life as Fiona returned, her arms full of everything Michael asked her to get. He pushed himself off the bed and helped her get everything settled on the workbench, excited to be working on a project with her again. Interesting things happened between Michael and Fiona when they built, armed, or disarmed things. Even though this "bomb" would never actually explode, Michael was keenly aware of the possibilities that this project held for them.

"Are you sure you don't want a real bomb, Michael? It wouldn't be difficult, and I have enough supplies out in the trunk of my car," Fiona said, drawing a chuckle from Michael.

"Not this time, Fi," he replied, joining her in sorting all of the supplies. Every touch of her hand or body against his reminded him just how much he had missed her.

Fiona pulled her hair back in an elastic and got ready to work. As she got started, she felt Michael walk up behind the stool on which she was sitting. The heat emanating from his body made her shudder, but she remained focused on her work.

Michael stood behind her, watching her work. She was meticulous in everything she did. After a few minutes he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. He thought he felt her lean slightly into his touch but still she kept working. He began lightly massaging her shoulders, not surprised to feel the same tension he was sure he had in his own shoulders.

Fiona paused. This was certainly not the first time that one of their projects had taken this kind of turn. But she was usually the one to push it in this direction. Like so much else in their relationship these days, this was something completely new.

"Michael, I have to finish this," she said, returning to her work as she felt his breath on her neck.

"It can wait, Fi," he said, brushing his lips against her neck.

"What do you always tell me, Michael? Finish the job first."

"But Fi…" he said, kissing her shoulder and trying to reach under her tank top.

"No, Michael," she said as she grabbed his wrist, "I'm almost done." And she pushed him back.

He stood for a moment, pondering his next move. He decided to try another tactic, retreating to the refrigerator and retrieving a yogurt. He walked back over to her, standing across the workbench and scooping up a spoonful.

"Yogurt, Fi?" he asked as he placed the spoon in his own mouth. She kept working.

Michael moved to stand next to her, holding out a spoonful of yogurt. This time she obliged him, though she continued working. Michael remained next to her, eating the remainder of the yogurt, offering her spoonfuls from time to time. She politely declined.

After what seemed like an eternity the yogurt was long gone and Fiona finally declared her "bomb" finished. She tidied up a bit, brushed her hands together, and paused to admire her handiwork. She felt Michael move from her side.

He stood behind her, turning her so she faced him, still sitting on the stool. He took a step forward and leaned against the workbench, one arm on either side of her body, effectively trapping her. She looked up at him, amused.

"Thank you Fi," he said, taking another step forward so their legs touched.

"My pleasure, Michael," she replied, placing one of her hands on his arm.

They had barely touched but already their breathing was becoming deeper as their bodies began to heat up. This was what they had missed most—their closeness and the anticipation of what was surely to come.

Michael leaned his head towards hers, keeping his arms on either side of her. She watched him, tilting her chin up just slightly. He pressed a tiny kiss to her lips, just barely brushing them with his own as he whispered her name. She brought her free hand to his waist, gently stroking his side to affirm that he was forgiven and all was right with them again.

He placed his forehead against hers and inhaled her scent—the scent he had dearly missed the past few days. He hadn't realized how much until just that moment. He leaned in for another kiss, lingering longer against her mouth this time.

Fiona shifted on the stool, bringing one of her legs between Michael's thighs. He moaned against her mouth as she brushed against him. He moved one hand off of the workbench to the hem of her tank top. He gathered the material in his fingers, stroking the bare skin of her back. She sighed against his mouth as he continued kissing her.

Michael ran his hand up the back of her tank top, tracing circles on her back as he pulled her hair free of the elastic with his other hand. He placed the elastic on the workbench and ran his fingers through her hair. His tongue reached out to gently trace her lips.

She lightly rubbed her knee between his thighs as she ran her hand under his shirt. She reveled in the feel of his hardening erection as his tongue continued to caress her lips. She moved her hand from his arm, bringing it to rest on the waist of his jeans as she lightly scratched up and down his back with her other hand.

Fiona parted her teeth, allowing Michael's tongue to meet her own, sighing as she realized how much she had missed him. His hand traveled from her back to her breast, lightly cupping it as his thumb flicked over her hardening nipple. She shivered under his touch.

They were fast approaching the point of no return as Fiona began to caress Michael's hardening cock through his jeans, his hips involuntarily thrusting towards her with every stroke of her hand. His kisses deepened and became more urgent as he caressed her breasts with one hand, his other hand traveling down to reach under her skirt.

Fiona sighed as his fingers stroked the wetness between her legs, her own hands reaching inside his jeans and beginning to pump his cock. They moved in rhythm with each other, her knee still stroking his thighs as their tongues continued their erotic dance.

"Michael," Fiona whispered. Any further words were cut off as Michael slipped a finger inside her pussy and her breath caught in her throat.

"I missed you Fi," he whispered back, his own breath catching in his throat as her fingers traveled down to his balls.

Michael began to lift her tank top over her head as Fiona worked at the button on his jeans. Just then, Michael's phone rang.

"Ignore it," Fiona said, just about to get the button open.

"I can't, Fi," he said, "it's going to be Sam telling me everything is set. I have to go get rid of Larry once and for all." He caressed her breasts and stroked her pussy a few more times, kissing her gently on the lips as she refastened the button and ran her fingers along the outside of his jeans between his legs.

Michael answered the phone, and as he expected it was Sam telling him everything was ready. He hung up, placed his hands on Fi's neck and pressed a few more kisses to her lips. The desire and passion in her eyes almost made him forget about the job he had to do.

"Hurry back, Michael," she whispered into his final kisses, "I'll be here waiting for you."

He groaned as she stroked his cock one more time, then he gathered the bomb and his keys and headed out.

"Don't go anywhere Fi," he said before closing the door, "we have some unfinished business to take care of."