Welcome To The Harem

Tango De Las Personas En Amor by Angelus
Summary: Post-ep for Tango de los Pistoleros. Yves/Jimmy.

Title: Tango De Las Personas En Amor

Author: Angelus

E-mail: angelus1317@hotmail.com (Please put "Tango" on the subject line.)

Subject: The Lone Gunmen

Category: JYR

Rating: G

Summary: "Tango" post-ep. Pretty short.

Spoilers: Tango De Los Pistoleros

Archive: Anywhere, just ask me first.

Disclaimer: Langley, Byers, Frohike, Jimmy, Yves, etc. are all used here without permission. They are the property of John Shiban, Frank Spotnitz, Dave Gilligan, 1013 Productions, and the FOX network. They are used here without permission, so please don't sue.

Author's notes: I'm extremely proud of this, because I think that it's the best piece I've ever written. Let me know what you think.

Dedication: To Mari. I can't wait to see you in two weeks. Me, you, & Em *have* to go see Evolution once she gets ungrounded. It will be the second official outing of the Suburban Princesses. Calamity Jane and Dreaded Kevin Forever. I love you, Mari. Thanks for everything, and watch out for sinking grapes and Emily on a German chocolate high.

"You like me. You *really* like me!" - Jimmy to Yves, "Diagnosis: Jimmy"

Jimmy silently watched as Yves sat at a table all by herself, fighting the urge to cry. By now, the room was empty. The paramedics were long gone, and he had told the Gunmen to leave without him. The case was over for them, but not for Yves.

Summoning all his courage, Jimmy approached the raven-haired beauty sitting not even fifteen feet away.

When his shadow fell over her, she lifted her face to look at him. A slight smile played with the corners of her lips, but she didn't speak, and neither did he. Instead, he held out a hand. No words were needed to explain the meaning behind this gesture. She slipped her small hand into his larger one and he led her out onto the darkened, deserted dance floor.

Slowly, hesitantly, he began to dance with her; first pulling her into a lazy spin, then hugging her from behind and gently rocking back and forth to a rhythm all their own. His rough, calloused hands ran along the smooth, soft skin of her arms as she accepted the comfort that his warm embrace offered, and he silently thanked every deity he could think of for giving him a chance to hold this gorgeous creature in his arms as if she were his own.

They slow-danced like that for what seemed like an eternity, until Jimmy felt the tension drain from Yves' shoulders. He released her and turned her around, and their eyes met again. When he drew her to him this time, it was more like a yank. Their bodies collided roughly, eyes and lips mere centimeters apart. Jimmy grinned broadly. Again, a sad smile just barely passed over Yves' lovely features. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

By the end of the evening, Jimmy had Yves doubled over with laughter, giggling like a twelve-year-old at his feeble attempts at dancing.

He didn't think he'd ever heard her giggle before.

He liked it.

Leaving the dance hall (but only when they were shooed out by the centuries-old caretaker), they were restless. So they climbed into Jimmy's sleek black convertible and cruised through the maze of streets before them, all as equally uninhabited as the dance hall they had just left. Sometime while Jimmy's eyes had been on the road, Eve had taken out whatever had been holding her hair up, because when he looked back, it was billowing out behind her like a majestic black storm cloud.

He had never seen her look more beautiful.

They went everywhere that night - to the movies, where they sat in the front row of a lame horror flick and threw popcorn at the screen; out to dinner, where they stuffed themselves on fancy, expensive Greek food; and, because they were still hungry, to a fast food drive-through for ice cream. They parked nearby, and took a walk through a moonlit park while they ate.

When Jimmy finished his cone, he reached for Yves' hand, and she let him hold it. She even gave it a light squeeze before they had to let go to get back in the car. But after living in a big city like D.C. all his life, Jimmy had mastered the art of driving single-handedly. His left grasped the steering wheel while his right once again clutched that of the beautiful woman beside him.

By the time they reached Yves' apartment building, it was nearly five in the morning. Both she and Jimmy were happily exhausted. He insisted on walking her to her door. Hands still clasped, they faced one another in preparation for the goodbye that they both knew would eventually, inevitably come.

And instead of the words, they kissed. He didn't kiss her, and she didn't kiss him; it was simply a matter of two pairs of lips leaning in at just the right moment. No tongues were involved, nor were roaming hands. It was a simple kiss; a kiss shared with the promise of more to come.

When they parted, Yves smiled.

And Jimmy left feeling like the luckiest man alive.



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