It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year is on TEMPORARY hold while I try to figure out the next chapter. Meanwhile, this is up for anyone who's waiting for an update on that.

First try at first person. Let me know how it goes, okay?

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.

Now, I ain't a violent guy. Impatient, sure, and quick-tempered, definitely. But not violent. Not intentionally at least.

But seein' Lil walk in this mornin' with that heavy look in her eyes, that same look that came after Joseph and all the other bastards who'd left her high and dry, makes me want to hurt someone. Badly. I take one look at her and know that this latest experiment—Taylor? Tyler?—has gone just like all the others.

I get up quietly and follow her to the bullpen. She hears me comin' and shoots me that look of hers, that one that says 'leave me the hell alone' but I ain't one for listenin'. Never has been my strong point. So I just tail her into the bullpen, tryin' not too look too worried about her, but subtlety's never been my strong point either. She sees right through me.

"I'm fine, Scotty," she says, her back to me.

"Didn't say you weren't," I answer.

She snorts. "The question's written all over your face. You're wondering why I look like hell."

No, I ain't wonderin'. I know. But pretending to be clueless for her sake, I say, "Yeah, I am. So why do you look like hell?"

She tries for a smile and fails. I pretend not to notice. "Nothing," she says (lies). "Just tired, that's all."

"Okay," I agree, even though we both know she's lying. With Lil, it's always better to swallow her lies, so I do. I pour her some coffee, and she thanks me, and we go right on back to the bullpen, just like any other mornin'. Nothin' to it.

But she ain't okay. I see that right off the bat, the second she opens the case file. She misreads a phone number, and I wince when she gets yelled at over the phone for haulin' up some woman at seven in the mornin'. She mutters a quick apology and sets the phone back into the cradle, her cheeks heatin' in embarrassment. Now usually, I think she's the cutest thing when she blushes. Proves that she's a girl, just like any other—well, maybe not like any other, but a girl underneath it all. But now, it makes me clench my fist, knowin' her slip-up's a sign of how bad this last guy's affectin' her.

Is it an argument? I wonder. Nah, Lil would never be shaken up so bad by an argument. But what if the guy—Trevor, I remember—brought up somethin' she didn't wanna talk about? Like her childhood, for instance. I ain't even close to piecin' together what happened to her, but I've heard enough over the years to know Lil's probably got the crappiest childhood in existence. She always freezes up when it comes up, and I learned long ago not to press her. But maybe Trevor was an idiot and brought it up? Maybe he touched on somethin' she'd rather forget?

I shake my head, glancing at Lil over my desk. Whatever it is, I ain't happy 'bout it. If it makes Lil all stonewalled like this, I don't like it. But I can't do anythin' about it either; I ain't the guy Lil talks to about these types of things. I ain't sure Lil talks to anyone about these types of things, 'cept maybe her cats. Which doesn't count, really.

"Stop looking at me like that," she says suddenly, glaring at me.

I pretend to be looking over her shoulder at the clock. "Like what?"

"Trying to figure me out," she snaps. "Just focus on the case, will you? We got a killer to catch."

Ouch. I ain't really stung by her tone, but I know she only gets all bitchy like this when she's on edge—or teeterin' on some emotional cliff. Which gives me another clue that this Trevor character's gotten to her—gotten to her bad. And I ain't a violent guy, but I'm prepared to do some violence now after seein' Lil go Ice Queen. But I can't, so I just look back down at my file and try to focus on the words.

All day long, I see reasons she ain't okay. She bumps into another detective in the hallway, sendin' her files flyin', and spends the next five minutes tryin' to figure out which paper belongs to which file. She gets into the break room and distractedly scoops a heap of salt into her coffee instead of sugar, which sends her gaggin' over the sink. She doesn't look at the file like she usually does, with that razor-sharp eye of hers that catches details none of us ever even think about. Instead, her eyes are far away, and I have to reach over and snap in front of her face to get her to listen to me. Whenever she catches me watchin' her, she either shoots me the Ice Queen glare or that fake-ass smile that doesn't fool anyone—doesn't fool me, at least. And I think 'bout trackin' this Trevor guy down and givin' him a real piece of my mind.

The bullpen slowly empties as the sun dips toward the horizon. Lil doesn't show any sign of stoppin', though, so I sit across from her and pretend to be as busy as she is. She pores over the files without really readin' them—twice I catch her readin' papers upside down—and sometimes jots down notes halfheartedly. I get the feeling that she's just burnin' time here so she won't have to go home—home to him. Which fans my curiosity up to a whole new level. But I hold back the questions, barely.

Finally, when we're the only ones left, she looks up and seems almost surprised to see me. "What are you doing here?"

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I could ask you the same thing. It's ten."

She does a bad imitation of shock. "It is? I never noticed it got that late."

Bull, I think. Aloud, I say, "Trevor's gonna be waitin' for you, huh?"

Emotion flashes across her face—anger, hurt, annoyance—but only for a moment before she gets that Ice Queen mask up and runnin' again. "I don't think so," she says coolly. "I told him not to wait up for me."

Well, that definitely confirms it; she's havin' troubles with him. Just like every other guy that's cropped up in her life. It makes me kinda sad to see it, see another guy fail her when she deserves so much more. But I can't deny part of me is glad. Part of me—the same part that gets so goddamn jealous—is doin' cartwheels in joy. Which makes me pretty much a selfish bastard, if you ask me. But I can't help bein' jealous, not when it comes to Lil.

"Oh, okay," I say, and her eyes catch mine. I can see then that she knows—she knows I know the truth. And just like that the Ice Queen mask slips away, and she sighs, weariness spreadin' across her face.

"It isn't any use lying to you, is it?" she asks, the coldness in her voice melting.

I smile and lean back in my chair. "No, it ain't. I'm your partner, Lil, and I'm a detective. I like to think I know when you're lyin'."

She smiles weakly. "I'm just a little off today, okay? But I'm fine, really."

"Whatever you say, Lil," I tell her.

She sighs again. "You know I'm telling the truth, right? I'm fine."

"I know you're lyin'," I say, catching her eyes. When she starts to protest, I add, "It ain't me you're lyin' to, Lil; it's yourself."

She scowls, her brow furrowing. "I'm not lying," she says firmly.

But she is. Sometimes, like now, I can read Lil like a book, a book that's been highlighted, annotated, and all that. I can read her that well. And I can see she's lyin', more to herself than to me, and it's that that finally shows me just how hard this is hittin' Lil, just how hurt she is.

Damn, I think, clenching my fist. What the hell did this Trevor guy do to hurt her this bad, to hurt her so bad that she's lyin' even to herself over it?

She can see I don't believe her, I can tell. "I'm not lying," she repeats, just as unconvincingly as the first time. When I level a disbelieving look on her, she flushes.

"You can talk to me, you know," I say, which is completely uncharacteristic. Sure, I've wanted to get behind Lil's walls for about a century now, but the relationship between us? Strictly professional. I don't even think of being Lil's confidant or whatever. But for some reason, right now, I feel like she needs someone to talk to and that I'm the guy to listen. So I say, "I'm a good listener. I got ears and all."

That brings a smile to her face. "And here I was thinking you didn't have ears," she teases lightly, and I smile back. After a moment, though, her smile fades, and she says quietly, "I don't want to talk about it."

I raise my hands in surrender. "Hey, I know when to back off." My tone is deliberately light, but my eyes are serious as they lock onto hers. I'm here for you, I think to her silently. By the resigned look in her eyes, I think she gets my point.

"Anyway," I say, hopin' to lighten her up a bit, "wanna grab a drink?" Since she's avoidin' Trevor and all, I figure it ain't too much to ask.

She seems to reach the same conclusion. "Yeah, sure. Let me just close up these files."

She packs away the files she barely looked at all day and collects her coat. I slide on my coat too and wrap my scarf around my neck. Together, we collect our things from the lockers before taking the elevator down and leaving the building. In silent agreement, we walk to a bar near the precinct, leaving our cars in the parking lot. I figure the cold night air will give us some time to think.

We reach the bar and pretty soon, we're knockin' back our second beer. I'm startled when Lil calls for a third one. She ain't usually a big drinker, and I don't think I've ever seen her down more than two beers without callin' it quits. But she seems determined to get drunk tonight, somethin' I'm worried about.

She takes a long sip of her third beer, and I say quietly, nursin' my third one too, "Is it really that bad?"

She looks at me uncomprehendingly. "Is what that bad?"

She ain't pretendin' to be clueless this time. I sigh and say, "Whatever's goin' on with your boyfriend."

She flushes, and a furrow appears between her eyes. "Nothing."

I decide it's time to push her a little. She's got enough drink in her to keep me from gettin' punched right off the bat for pressing her, so I say, "You're a bad enough liar when you're sober, Lil. You think you can lie to me after four beers?"

She eyes me over her beer, the gears in her head turnin'. As I wait for her to answer, I watch her eyes. They're beautiful, really. I ain't ever seen a shade so blue, so pure. They always show what she's feelin', a myriad of emotions swirlin' there. Except when she has her Ice Queen mask on, of course, which she does now. I stifle a growl of frustration and take another sip of beer.

"Just to clear things up," she says suddenly, "I'd never say this to you—to anyone—if I was sober, okay?"

I glance at her, at her clear eyes, and say in confusion, "But you are sober."

"No, I'm not," she argues. "I'm drunk as hell, and we'll chalk it up to that, okay?"

Oh. Oh. To Lil, revealin' her issues is the same as revealin' her weaknesses, and if there's anythin' she hates, it's bein' weak. She wants to have somethin' to fall back on, so when someday someone might accuse her of bein' weak, she can say she was so dead drunk she didn't have any control over herself. I get it. It hurts that she doesn't trust me enough to just talk to me without an excuse, but it's okay. If she'll talk, I'll take it.

"Okay," I say, leaning my elbows on the table. "So talk."

She takes another mouthful of beer and swallows hard. "Trevor…broke up with me."

I swallow, fierce joy leapin' to the forefront. Damn it, I should be sad for her. I should be sorry for her. But I'm not. All I can feel is relief. Relief that she didn't work out with him after all, that she's available again. Not that I'll ever work up the courage to make her unavailable myself, of course. Like I'm doin' so often these days, I wonder why I'm such a coward.

She laughs, misinterpreting my silence. "It's that pathetic, huh? You don't even have a smartass comment."

I manage a weak smile. "It ain't that, Lil. I'm just…surprised. You two seemed good for each other." No, they hadn't. They'd been polar opposites from day one. But I want to make her feel better.

She smiles bitterly, and I know I've said the wrong thing. "Did we? Then it just goes to show that I can ruin even a fairy tale romance."

Damn it. She's pullin' all the blame for this one, like she always does.

I catch her eyes. "It ain't your fault, Lil."

She gives me a skeptical look. "How would you know?"

"'Cause you always do your best," I say. "You do your best, and whatever happens, happens. It ain't your fault."

She sighs heavily. "What if it was? He said…"

He said…? Trevor is actually blamin' her for the breakup? Lil isn't doin' the guilty thing by herself this time? I feel a rush of automatic anger on her behalf.

"He said what?" I ask tightly.

She looks down at her beer bottle and runs her finger around the rim. After another moment, she answers, "We had a date last night."

Last night. I look at her, puzzled. "We were interviewin' a suspect last night."

She nods. "Yeah, that's the point. I completely forgot about dinner. He sat at the restaurant for an hour, waiting for me. It's not the first time it's happened either. There was that Carson case, and the Ellison one before that. He just had enough, I guess. He said…" She hesitates for a moment before pressing on. "He said I wasn't committed enough to the relationship and that I'd never have anyone, 'cause a man has got to be just plain stupid to put up with my work hours."

Like I said, I ain't a violent guy. But I am definitely contemplatin' violence right there, lookin' across the table at Lil's sad eyes and her hands clenched around a half-empty beer bottle. Anyone who puts that expression on her face deserves to be shot to oblivion and have his bones gnawed on by a pack of dogs. I ain't even kiddin'.

"Now that's just plain stupid," I say vehemently. "He ain't worth it, Lil. If he can't respect what you gotta do, he ain't worth it."

"Who will respect what I do?" she asks. "Trevor's right; who will ever put up with the hours I put into the job?"

"I will," I say automatically. And then curse inwardly when I realize what I've just said.

She freezes across from me, and a fleetin' look of shock flashes across her face. I chicken out instantly. "I mean, as a friend," I backpedal hastily. "A friend, Lil."

She stares straight at me, like she knows I slipped up. I give her what I hope is a convincin' smile, tryin' not to seem too tense. Is she gonna run? Is she gonna call me out on what I said? Or will she just ignore it, lie to herself about it?

She returns the smile slowly. "Right, a friend. What else, Valens?"

I can't help the pang of disappointment at her tactic of pretendin' it's nothin'. 'Cause I know my feelings ain't nothin', not by a long shot. I've known it for a while now, and for a second there, I'd thought maybe she would call me on it, and everythin' would come to light at last. But of course, she's Lil. She ain't gonna make a move first.

So I just sigh. "So what's up with tryin' to work yourself to death today?"

She sighs too. "Trevor's getting his stuff to move out. I didn't want to run into him packing."

Of course. Makes sense. I offer her a half-smile and raise my beer. "Lil, if he ain't gonna appreciate you, then I say good riddance."

She smiles wryly. "There isn't a lot to appreciate, Scotty."

Hell yeah, there is. There's so much to appreciate it positively makes me dizzy, and a man's gotta be blind not to see all the good in her. Where else are you gonna find a gorgeous woman so smart and strong and fierce? Where else are you gonna find a woman like that spendin' her days and nights tirelessly huntin' down the worst scum there is and givin' peace to the families? There ain't a woman like Lil in the whole world, I'm sure of that.

I shrug and say, "Matter of perspective, Lil."

She doesn't quite look at me. "Well…what's your perspective, Scotty?"

What? What? I shoot her a startled look, wonderin' if Lil's actually askin' me for my thoughts on her, 'cause God knows once I get goin' on what's good about her, I don't think I'll ever stop.

She catches my surprise, and an adorable flush spreads across her cheeks. She ducks her head to hide it, but I see it anyway.

"As a friend," she says hastily. "What's your perspective on me, as a friend?"

"As a friend?" I repeat slowly, mullin' it over in my mind, wonderin' how to describe her without once usin' the word gorgeous. Finally, I say, "You're amazin', Lil. You got things no one else has. You're smart and the best at what you do and you really feel, you know? You connect with the victims, and you feel for 'em, in your own way. And that makes you an incredible person and an incredible detective."

She smiles. "Thanks, Scotty."

She's sittin' a little straighter, like I've actually given her somethin'. And now I'm feelin' a little braver, so I add thoughtlessly, "It also helps that you're beautiful." Teasingly, of course. At least, my tone is teasin'. Inside, I'm dead serious.

Her breath catches. Even over the chatter of the bar and the music, I can hear it. The flush on her pale cheeks darkens, and this time, I don't pretend not to notice. I let a slow smile spread across my face as I watch her blush, a smile that turns into a smirk.

"You blushin', Lil?" I tease, raisin' an eyebrow.

"No!" she barks, but she's positively red now. And I thought Lilly pale was beautiful; Lilly red-faced is simply breathtakin'. Not to imply that embarrassment suits her, of course, but there's just somethin' 'bout Lil blushin' that so adorable I have to clench my fists to keep from reachin' right across the table and kissin' her. I let out a deep breath slowly and try to calm my thoughts. Breathe, Valens, breathe. At the rate the night's goin', I'm gonna have to handcuff myself to the table leg to keep from doin' anythin' inappropriate to my partner.

I chuckle. "Okay, Lil, sure. We'll chalk it up to the drink."

She nods and, as if to prove it, takes a long swallow of her beer. Pretty soon, both our bottles are empty, and Lil's startin' to relax. She nods her head to the beat of the music, and I watch her, mesmerized by the way her eyes sparkle in the lights and the way that ponytail of hers jumps when she moves her head. There ain't a lot of women who can turn my head, but Lil sure is one of 'em. Hell, Lil's probably at the top of the list. I don't think I'd ever get tired of watchin' her. I'd like to sit across from her in the bullpen and just watch her everyday, but I'd be out of job pretty soon. And we got killers to catch.

She looks over to the dance floor, where a dozen couples are dancin' their hearts out. There's a look of longing on her face, and before I stop to think about what I'm doin', I'm up outta my seat and takin' her wrist.

"Scotty—" she protests as I pull her from the table. "What—?"

"Let's dance," I say, knowin' it's probably a bad idea, what with me not bein' able to keep my hands to myself and all. But I can't say I care. Chalk it up to the drink, I think wryly.

We reach the dance floor, and I pause. How close would it be professional to get? I wanna just pull her into my arms and crush her to me, like I used to dance with Elisa. I get the feelin' Lil's a more conservative dancer, though, and that I'll be walkin' outta the bar with a black eye if I try anythin' like that with her. So I just stop uncertainly, wonderin' if she'd be okay with me just puttin' my hands on her hips. Her hips. I swallow, my thoughts wanderin' lower before I can stop them. Oh God. I feel my fingers itchin' to just bury themselves in her hair as I drop her in a swoonin' kiss. Why the hell did I put myself in this situation again?

Before I can chicken out completely and bolt back to our table, Lil catches my wrist. "What? Not up to it, Valens?" she teases lightly, pullin' me further into the dance floor. "You got no rhythm or something?"

It must be the drink—it must be the drink—'cause I ain't carin' so much about not touchin' her anymore. I grin cockily and shoot back, "Show me what you got then, Lil."

And she does. Shockingly enough, she's actually a breathtakin' dancer. Swayin' her hips in the most mesmerizin' way, bouncin' up and down with the beat of the music, laughin' with the purest joy I've ever heard in her voice, she's the most beautiful thing I've seen since Elisa. I dance with her, keepin' up with her easily enough. I'm outta practice, but dance is like ridin' your bike; you never really forget. I remember all those days I spent dancin' with Elisa, to slow songs and fast, from her favorites to mine. It sends a pang of sadness through me, the thought of her. It's been a long time since I've really thought about her, and the pain ain't any less this time. Whoever said time heals all wounds was obviously high, or drunk, or both.

Then, before I can get too sucked into the memory of Elisa, the music abruptly slows. I slow too, breathin' hard, watchin' Lil. She's pantin' as hard as I am, but her eyes are sparklin' with a life I don't see there too often. I hesitate, wonderin' how we're supposed to slow-dance on our own, but Lil solves that quickly and efficiently. To my shock, she steps in and wraps her arms around my neck, her body pressed against mine. I freeze up, pretty sure I'm dreamin' or worse, drunk. 'Cause there is no way in hell Lilly Rush is so close to me I can smell the shampoo she uses, so close I can almost feel the breath panting out between her lips.

"Lil…" I start slowly, knowin' if we stay this close for more than twenty seconds, it's likely I'll be gettin' a black eye.

She looks at me, and I see that she knows—she knows what she does to me, what she's doin' to me. She knows suddenly how close I am to doin' somethin' completely, wholly unprofessional to her.

And she smiles. It's so beautiful I groan quietly and lean my head back, closin' my eyes. God…does she have any idea that I got pretty much a shred of self-control left at this point? Does she have any idea that I'm half a second away from crushin' my lips against hers?

"Hey, Scotty," she breathes, so close I have to lock my hands around her back to keep from touchin' her anywhere else.

"Yeah, Lil?" I say, hopin' I sound perfectly normal. It comes out kinda hoarse though, and her smile widens.

"Chalk it up to the drink," she whispers, grinnin'.

And I know. I know she's givin' me permission—or as close to permission as she can get. Chalk it up to the drink. An excuse. An excuse for us to forget that we're partners, to forget that there're rules against this sort of thing, to forget that there's anythin' standin' in our way. To forget that it ain't right that I'm fallin' heads over heels in love with my gorgeous partner.

I let out the breath I'm holdin' and dip down to catch her lips with mine. She reaches up to meet me, her lips soft and invitin', her eyes closed. It's like a dam has broken loose inside me; I can't stop myself anymore. My hands raise to tangle themselves in her hair, and I lean into her, tastin' the alcohol and slightly mint on her breath, feelin' my breath hitch as she winds her hands into my hair. God, she tastes good. Like mint and softness and a hint of vulnerability that has me groanin' against her lips.

I wonder breathlessly how far I can take this. How far does chalkin' it up to the drink get me? I get a brief flash of Lil lyin' under me in my bed, and another groan escapes my lips at the thought. Is it possible…?

"I think this is going somewhere," she whispers against my lips, her eyes still closed.

God, yes, I think giddily, drunk on the thought. "Is it?" I whisper back hoarsely, holdin' her, hardly darin' to hope.

She smiles. "I don't know. But we're both drunk as hell—" we both smile here, knowin' it's probably the biggest lie we've ever had in our history together "—so why not?"

Why not?

I've never heard such beautiful words. I don't care that this is me and Lil denyin' that we're partners. I don't care that this is me and Lil breakin' a hundred office regulations. All I care is that I'm kissin' her, and she's kissin' me back, so why the hell not?

She reaches up to kiss me again, and I'm lost in her. I breathe in her scent, wonderin' if I'm dreamin'. If I am, I hope I ain't ever gonna wake up, 'cause this is as close to paradise as I can imagine. I clench her tightly to me, holdin' her like I always wanted to, kissin' her like there ain't gonna be a tomorrow, knowin' that when there is a tomorrow, we're gonna keep goin' on like tonight never happened. Like we're just partners, nothin' more.

I break off the kiss, feelin' incredibly bold. "I think you're gorgeous," I whisper, catchin' her eyes. "You're just so gorgeous."

She looks startled for a split second, and somethin'—somethin'—surfaces in her eyes. It's there and gone before I can see it clearly, though, and she says, almost to herself, "Chalk it up to the drink." Our little (huge) lie of the night. Smilin' widely, she catches the same courage and answers, "Really? Well, I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Now it's my turn to look shocked. She really…she really thinks that about me? She thinks that I, screw-up partner, screw-up boyfriend, screw-up friend, is the best thing that's ever happened to her? I'm touched. I'm beyond touched. I can't stop myself from kissin' her again.

She breaks away with a laugh, her eyes shinin'. I say, "You're the best partner any cop can have. I wouldn't trust anyone else half as much as I trust you."

She smiles. "Right back at ya, partner." After a moment, she says, more quietly, "I knew about Alex, you know. I could tell."

I ain't shocked. I kinda knew Lil would find out; she ain't a detective for nothin'. I just hoped she wouldn't bring it up. Ever.

I wince. "Lil, I wasn't lyin' to you, not really…"

She shakes her head. "You were. But that's not the point. The point is that I'm pretty jealous over her."

I can't help the wide smile that spreads across my face, a smile so wide I wonder why it's not splittin' my face clear in two. "You were jealous?"

She looks at her shoes, but even then, I can see her blushin'. "I wasn't…I didn't mean…"

She's losin' the courage we got from our excuse and losin' it fast. I gotta say somethin' or I'll lose her, so I blurt quickly, "Me too. With Joseph and that Ray guy and Trevor, I mean. I was jealous."

She raises her head to meet my eyes again, and I can practically see the boldness returnin' to her. Her eyes are alight with some indescribable feelings, and she says, "I always wanted to kiss you, you know. Even when I thought you were just the cocky bastard who'd been assigned to be my partner."

I laugh, part from amusement, part from relief that our little game isn't over yet. "I wanted to kiss you even when I thought you were some stick-up-your-ass workaholic who was my punishment 'til I could prove myself and get the hell out of there."

She laughs too. "You still want to get out?"

I look down at her, at her gleaming blue eyes and her half-parted lips. "Hell no. They'd have to drag me away."

We both laugh almost giddily, laugh at the sheer stupidity of it all, laugh that for once, we're bein' free with each other, without defenses, without pretenses, without walls. We're bein' honest, truly honest, usin' the excuse of chalkin' it up to the drink to mask our truth with lies. Everythin' I've said has been totally, completely true, and I get the feeling that everythin' she said is too. It's like we're meetin' each other for the first time.

"I'm afraid of spiders," she says suddenly, grinnin' like the cat that ate the canary. She ain't done with this game yet, and I sure as hell ain't either.

"I love apple pie," I answer, smilin' back.

"My favorite color is blue."

"Mine is green."

"I like classical music."

"I like any music."

"I don't think the break room coffee is as bad as we make it out to be."

I stop and laugh. "I gotta disagree with you there. Break room coffee is absolutely awful."

She laughs too. "Well, I kinda like it."

I shake my head and shrug. "Whatever you say, Lil." I watch her with a wide smile, and before I know what I'm doin', I'm kissin' her again. She leans into it for a brief moment before pullin' away, laughin'.

"Stop that," she says, slappin' my arm. "Don't you ever do anything but kiss the girls you're with?"

I grin. "Chalk it up to the drink, Lil."

She grins too. "Want to go sit back down?"

"Want to get out of here?" I counter.

And she stops. A fleeting look of disappointment crossin' her face, she says quietly, "We can't…not out there…"

Not out of the bar. I swallow. She thinks that the instant we step outta the bar, our little charade is over. That once we step outta the bar, we'll be partners again, professionals.

I don't want it to end.

"It's okay, Lil," I say after a moment. "We can still be dead drunk outta the bar." I smile wryly. "In fact, we're so drunk it'd take us all night to get sober."

Holdin' my breath, I watch her as she thinks about it. I pray she'll agree so this moment, this magical moment, can go on for just a little longer. So we can be friends—more—for just a little longer.

Slowly, slowly, an answering smile spreads across her face. "Right," she says, eyes dancin' again. "I forgot about that."

Grinnin' quietly to ourselves, we grab up our coats from the table, slap down a few bills for the beers, and stumble out of the dimly lit bar into the equally dimly lit street.

"Your driving sucks," she says abruptly, laughing. "If you weren't a police officer, I'd arrest you."

I grin. "You drive like a snail," I counter. "If you weren't a police officer, I'd rear-end you."

She laughs, and the sheer joy in it makes me break out into a smile too. She's just so damn gorgeous, laughin' and leanin' against my arm, alive in a way I've never seen in her before. I wish the night would never end.

"I like your tie," she says, eyeing it.

I glance down. It's my red one, my favorite. "Glad to hear it," I answer. "I like it too." Then, lookin' at her, I add, "I like your shirt today." She's wearin' that blue blouse that makes her eyes pop, the ones that make my eyes pop too.

"I've noticed," she says in amusement. "You seem to like a lot of the stuff I wear."

"'Cause you look beautiful in all of 'em," I reply. And a shiver of excitement goes through me from head to toe, excitement that I can say this sort of stuff to her without gettin' punched in the face.

She flushes, but this time, she doesn't make an attempt to hide it. She just sighs contentedly and slips her hand into mine. I look down in surprise and then back up at her, the question in my eyes.

"Just felt like doing this," she says without lookin' at me. A small smile curves her lips. "Chalk it up to the drink."

Right. Chalk it up to the drink. The perfect excuse for the whole string of irrational things we've done all night long.

I check my watch and sigh. "It's gettin' late."

"How late?"

"Two in the mornin'."

She winces. "Ouch. We're gonna have a hell of a time getting up tomorrow for work."

I grin mischievously. "No, we're gonna have a hell of a hangover tomorrow."

After a moment, she grins too. "What, so we call in sick? Both of us? Boss will never fall for it."

"Then you wanna sit in the bullpen all mornin' starin' at files?" I ask wryly. "Feel free, Lil. I'm gonna be home sleepin' my hangover off."

She laughs. "Yeah, your hell of a hangover."

I laugh too. It's just so surreal to be talkin' to Lil this way, completely open and unafraid. I can say anythin' to her now; our little excuse has made sure of that. I can say anythin'.

I realize suddenly that I'll never get a better chance, and that if I let this moment slip away, I'll regret it forever.

"Lil," I say, "we're still chalkin' this up to the drink, ain't we?"

She nods, smilin'. "I'm definitely not sober."

"Okay then." I scuff the ground with my shoe before lookin' straight at her, straight into those clear blue eyes. "Hey, Lil?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

She freezes for an instant, just an instant. And in that single moment, we both know that what I've said is true and that it ain't 'cause of drink, it ain't 'cause of anythin'. It's 'cause I mean it. In that moment, we know we ain't drunk, not even close.

And the moment passes, and we're 'drunk' again. She laughs, even though it's painfully forced, and says, "I love you too, Scotty."

I offer her a little smile of relief, relief that we're takin' this as a joke. It's amazin' to be able to say those words to her, and it's more amazin' to hear her say 'em back to me. I pretend, like we've been pretendin' all night, that she means what she says.

We start to walk in companionable silence, and soon enough—too soon—we're back at the precinct. I try not to sigh in disappointment as we start for our separate cars. Some part of me hopes feverishly that she'll turn around and tell me that we can keep bein' drunk, that we can be so drunk we end up in bed together, that we can just chalk it up to the drink afterwards. But the majority of me knows better. Most of me knows that it's just stupid to carry our lie that far, knows that Lil is way too smart to let it get that far. I know that. I'm still disappointed though.

"Hey, Scotty?"

I stop, lookin' up to see Lil leanin' against her open door, a smile on her face. "Yeah?"

"Thanks," she says simply. "For tonight. For letting me be Lilly."

Just Lilly. Not the Detective, not the strong woman no one gets really close to. Just herself, raw and un-walled.

"Thanks for showin' me Lilly," I reply sincerely, smilin' back at her. Our eyes catch over our cars for a long moment, and I wonder if this night's changed anythin' between us at all, or if we're just gonna come to work tomorrow and act like nothin' happened.

She seems to read my mind. A sadness surfaces in those expressive eyes of hers, and I know then what road she's goin' down. She's gonna forget this happened, bury it, and tomorrow, we're gonna be partners again—just partners. It's gonna be like this night never happened.

It makes me sad too, knowin' that this is probably the last I'll see of Lil like this. It's the last time I'll be able to talk to her like this, too, and it tears at me. Swallowing hard, I cross over to her quickly and pull her up into my arms, kissin' the life out of her, kissin' her like there ain't gonna be a tomorrow—and there ain't. So I kiss her like the world's endin', like I've always wanted to, like I probably won't ever get to again. I kiss her long and hard, committin' her breath to memory, her taste. Desperately rememberin' this moment, the moment when I kissed Lilly Rush and she kissed me back.

And then she pushes me gently away, and it's over—for real, this time. We ain't drunk anymore, and we ain't ever gonna be this drunk again.

We look at each other, brown eyes on blue, sharin' the end of an exhilaratin' night, both disappointed in its ending. Slowly, Lil smiles, and I force one too.

"See you tomorrow, Scotty," she says.

"Yeah," I answer. "See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Partners again, nothin' more. Like this night, this one, magical night, never happened.

I knew this would happen. I knew it would all end. So why do I feel so disappointed, so lost?

Hey, I think wryly, shakin' my head as I slide into my car and watch Lil drive away. Chalk it up to the drink.

Leave a review if you have time! Do you want to see more of this or do you just want to leave it here? I can go either way. :)