[Room 15, with Michael]

[notinthebook]

 She's got the brand-new bottle of Johnny Walker Blue in one hand when she knocks at the door of Room 15, feeling unaccountably nervous.  

It's not like this is weird, or anything.  It's not like she thinks he'll be unhappy to see her -- or the whiskey.  And she wants to know how the latest mission went, whether there were more crab-monsters involved, or...whatever might be out there.

(But they haven't talked, alone, since her stint as bartender and the fight they'd had, which, in retrospect...she doesn't even remember how it got started, or why.  That feeling of sinking unhappiness is pretty immediately recognizable, though.)

If asked, she might not even be able to say why she's here, aside from the simplest reason she can put in words: she wanted to see him.

I miss you, he'd written, once.

Well, the feeling's mutual.

Comments

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael eyes the folder a long moment and then shakes his head; "I can't do anything with that, Barry. I've barely got the FBI off my back and I'm not about to give them something that's going to make them start asking questions like how I got a hold of that information. You need to turn it in."

"Yeah..." Barry grimaces shaking his head; "I'd like to stay not-dead if at all possible and after your little party with the Cubans I'm not about to go sticking my neck out again. So, I brought a backup plan."

When Barry walks to the table and sets his bag down with a heavy thump not five inches from Emma's plate, Michael has a sinking feeling he knows where this is going.

"You're trying to catch someone who thinks he's a badass czar? Make him one." Barry grins wide and flips open the top flap of his messenger back to reveal a cache of small sealed bags of fine white powder.

"Please tell me you've taken up baking."

[notinthebook]

"Whoa!"

She pushes back from the bag, turning incredulous eyes on Barry as she does. "Are you insane? What the hell are you thinking?"

Maybe it's powdered sugar. It could be.

It better be.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael's eyes are still as he looks from the stash to Emma and then back up to Barry - he gets the plan without even asking, it's not a great plan... but theoretically it could take him down even harder when added to the original plan.

"Are you kidding? After an anonymous tip... compliments of someone who really wants to see this guy put away... when they pick him up for whatever the hell your plan is he's going to have a kilo of the stuff in his car. Believe me, that wasn't cheap - but it's worth it to make sure he doesn't get off light for what he did."

"Barry... that's really... really..."

"Oh come on, I know you can pop a lock and make sure the stuff is where it needs to be. It's not like it's going to add anything major to your plan." Barry lets out a nervous laugh and covers it back up.

Michael sighs and glances back at Emma with a hint of resignation - it's actually not a bad idea. He's worked with things a lot less solid, and going down for solicitation and whatever they can get on a tape might not stick... a kilo of coke packaged for resale is pretty damning evidence.

"Emma," Michael says softly, licking his lips; "he's got a point. It would bring this guy down harder if we can plant the drugs and get his prints on even one of the bags..."

[notinthebook]

She's got her arms folded across her chest, her jaw set, and it's not like she's ever exactly subtle with her expressions.

She doesn't like it. What's to like? And, yeah, these set-ups go down all the time, but it's not like this is a controlled law enforcement shakedown.

"Do what you want," she says, finally, picking up her water and sipping at it. "I'm all for putting this asshole away for as long as possible."

That doesn't mean she has to like it, and she reserves the right to be annoyed.

[luvs_yogurt]

It doesn't take an expert to know that she's angry, but he's already decided that he's going to do it - it wouldn't take much, getting the print would be the hardest part... and Michael could make that happen. He'd have to.

"Fine, fine..." he sighs and shakes his head. "Thank you for the help Barry, now if you don't mind I've got a very expensive dinner getting cold."

"Sure thing, Mike..." Barry grins, looking back to Emma with a knowing look that makes it clear he thinks she's the one calling the shots (because if he was hitting that... he'd let her). "I, uh... don't think I ever properly met your ladyfriend here..."

"And you're not going to now," Michael frowns even deeper taking Barry by the arm. "Barry, Emma - Emma, Bad Checks Barry... bye-bye, Barry..."

"Hey! Is that any way to treat a guy that just handed you a slam dunk for justice? Come on, have a little respect."

[notinthebook]

She lifts a hand, flicks her fingers in a sarcastic wave.

"See you around, Barry. Thanks for the illegal drugs."

At least he's not sticking around. And yeah, sure. It's a good plan, it'll bring the guy even further down than the original one, and it's not like she hasn't used tactics just as shady in the past.

It's just...

She can't helping thinking. What would Henry say? He'd be so disappointed in her.

[luvs_yogurt]

"We've got an early morning, and I'm sure you understand that we need to get our beauty sleep..."

Barry rolls his eyes and lets out a low sigh; "Fine fine... I can take a hint." He looks back at Michael with a broad smile before murmuring under his breath; "When you're tapping that ass later on... give her one for me..."

A dark flush colors his cheeks and he pulls the other man toward the door; "I don't think so, Barry. Don't call me, I'll call you when the job's done."

"And I want my bag back!" Barry added, pointing toward the messenger bag full of coke; "It's a Prada."

"No problem, I'll make sure it gets back to you." He pats Barry on the arm, escorting him to the door and nearly shoving him out it. When it locks with a satisfying click, he leans against the door frame and lets out a low sigh. "That was fun."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah," she says, lifting the bag off the table and shoving it towards the wall. "He's a real charmer."

Not that she can judge. Not that she can talk. And it's definitely not like she's never done anything illegal.

Her background is far from spotless, and she's no saint, so she just gives the bag another push and sits back up again, blonde curls falling over her shoulder, her smile there, but wry.

"At least he's gone."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael's eyes follow the bag and then look squarely at her; it's the drugs that she disagrees with - he thinks - not altering the plan.

"Yeah, well... he's harmless, for the most part."

Picking at his cold dinner for a long moment, it's still good even cold, he finally asks; "You're okay with this, right? I mean, you said it was fine but I need to know you're going to be able to do this still."

[notinthebook]

Her eyebrows lift, but she's looking down at her dinner, spinning pasta around a curling shrimp, expression neutral.

"It's not my call to be okay with it or not. I said I'd help, and I will. That doesn't mean I have to like the tactics."

Still considering her plate, her mouth twists, her shoulders, always slouched, lift in a shrug, thinking of talking to Tommy, how he'd figured she must be into the kind of crap Michael finds himself in all the time, like Cuban drug runners and cocaine deals are something she can just brush off.

"This stuff's way out of my league. The better question is whether I trust that you know what you're doing."

[luvs_yogurt]

He nods slowly, he can understand her reluctance. If she wanted to back out, he'd let her - he'd drive her back to the Carlito and find another way.

"It's a good question," he says calmly, watching her eyes; "do you?"

[notinthebook]

"Well."

It gets another shrug, shoulders bare, skin cool in the air-conditioned room, and now she looks up at him, under thick black lashes.

It's not so much flirtatious as it is laying down a line.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be here at all."

[luvs_yogurt]

There aren't many ways to deal with having that kind of trust levied on you - and Michael's always accepted it unconditionally. She says she trusts him, and that's good enough. But still, there's always the question of to what end and if she knows just how far he's willing to go.

"Then I think..." he leans closer, letting his fingers trace over the outside edge of her palm; "we should forget about business for the moment and stick to the plan tomorrow."

[notinthebook]

She huffs a little laugh, looking down at his fingers tracing along the soft curve of her palm, making her hand look small beneath his, tying a conflicted knot deep in her stomach, warning lights flashing somewhere far away.


She ignores them.

"Yeah, I think I like that idea better."

[luvs_yogurt]

She can do this, he knows she can - it's an easy job and yes, it requires bending the law but the payoff is worth it and in his mind the end usually justifies the means. If they can pull it off, nobody will get hurt and a very bad man will spend a long time behind bars.

Closing his hand over hers, he gives it a firm squeeze before he says; "I'm sorry we had to talk show today - I really did mean for it to be just us."

[notinthebook]

"Hey, don't sweat it."

Her lips press into a smile, hazel eyes warming. "You didn't call him over. And we've got more to work with, this way. But, uh..."

Her thumb smooths over the back of his hand, light, teasing, coaxing.

"I really might punch the next person who shows up. Fair warning."

[luvs_yogurt]

It's that touch that he craves - the tenderness and gentle tease that says they're going back to where they were in a very good way.

"No more visitors," he murmurs, leaning closer to her; "I'm turning the phone off."

He needs it, and he's pretty sure she does too. Just a little slice of time that they can use to luxuriate in the moment and find their place if only for that little bit of time.

"Just us."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah?"

Her smile widens.

It's nice. Feeling wanted, feeling trusted. Michael may be a bad idea, but he's always been straight with her, and that's not even the only thing to like about him.

Take, for example, the way he's smiling at her now, the way his voice drops low, the way his hand feels on hers, making her skin feel tight, making her pulse leap.

"Well, you are the reason I'm here. What girl can say no to a nice hotel room, all you can eat crab, and putting a loanshark behind bars?"

She's leaning back towards him, too, but it's hardly an unconscious decision. Can she really be blamed for wanting to find a little closeness? Just for a little while?

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael closes the distance between them boldly and replies; "Nobody I want to be here with."

It's enough, he thinks, being close to Emma - being her friend if they can be like this. As long as she doesn't run away again, he can handle being kept at arms length.

Maybe it's for the best.

Eyes half-lidded, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, his fingers closing down even harder before kissing her gently.

[notinthebook]

She watches his eyes close, making her heart thump, hard.

It's something about how blue they are, it must be, but whatever the reason, she finds herself a little fascinated by them.

And by the way he kisses her, too. It's sure as hell not the desperate, pushing, pressing kisses of before, and she can't help melting into this one, because, come on. It's Michael, and he's a freaking spy, but he's kissing her like he's just a guy who cares.

Who likes her. Her.

And the thing is, she likes him, too.

So her free hand comes up, threads into the short hair at the back of his head, and she stands up, slow, lingering over the kiss until she has to break away, looking down at him with a smile.

"I think I remember something being said about a bubble bath. And champagne. That was definitely in there, too. And..."

Leaning down, she kisses him again, hand drifting to his jaw. "More of the same."

[luvs_yogurt]

If life we fair, things would be different. He wouldn't have to think about things that are lingering in his mind - he wouldn't have to worry about making sure no matter what happens to him she has a way back home to her boy. He'd be allowed to think only of that silky perfect skin coated in fine bubbles as she sits in his lap while he feeds her strawberries.

In a fair world.

It takes a second before he can look up, a hollow groan closing his throat as a grin that feels wholly out of place lingers on his lips.

"I'll call for champagne, you start the bubbles..."

[notinthebook]

That little sound does something to her insides, makes them feel like an imploding balloon, makes shivers start at the back of her neck.

"Yeah."

Her hand slides along the angle of his jaw, settles at the side of his neck, and she leans in again, pressing a kiss to his lips that deepens, pulls a little wanting sound right out of her, too.

Her smile comes teasing against his lips.

"Or we could skip it and go straight back to bed."

[luvs_yogurt]

The grin spreads even wider, full and dopey and just like the sort of thing one of his characters might do that's even more unsettling when he knows it's all him... all her and what she does to him.

"I vote that one..." he replies with a low murmur of approval as he reaches out to her jeans and tugs hard at the button.

[notinthebook]

"I like your style."

And she likes that smile. It looks good on him, lightens him up.

Her hands slide to his shoulders, but her mouth goes straight back to his as she tugs at him to get up out of the chair.

There are better places to be right now.

[luvs_yogurt]

Later that night, when the noise of the pre-spring break party season outside the open window dies down, Michael untangles himself from the sleeping woman's arms and finds his binoculars and a bottle of water.

He might be torn between the warm nest of Emma's arms and the softest sheets he'd laid on in a really long time, but his mind's back where it always seems to want to be. Work. Something safe, something he can almost predict and roll with so much easier than the way he feels when he looks back at her as she rolls to grab for the warm pillow where he used to be.

Sitting on the window sill, he looks down at the house they're targeting and starts mapping out the security in his head.