TITLE: Decompression
AUTHOR: Chauncey10 aka MSCSIFANGSR
PAIRING: Jim Brass and Rita Nettles
RATING: Mature
SUMMARY: Jim decompresses after a tough case.
DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with them. And no disrespect to Rod Stewart or Ron Wood, formerly of the group 'Faces'. The song is 'Stay with me'.
WARNING: Adult subject matter, but nothing overtly smutty.
SPOILERS: Post-episode for Hog Heaven 9x23. Heavy spoilers.
Jim Brass looked over his unimpressive CD collection, immediately opening the jewel case of one in particular and slipping it into his inexpensive CD player. With practiced hand, Jim selected track 5 and placed it on repeat. Rod Stewart's voice filled the room as he poured himself three fingers of 'Glenlivet'.
In the mornin' don't say you love me,
'Cause I'll only kick you out of the door.
I know your name is Rita 'cause your perfume's smellin' sweeter,
Since when I saw you down on the floor.
Won't need to much persuading',I don't mean to sound degradin',
But with a face like that you got nothin' to laugh about.
Red lips, hair and fingernails, I know you think I' a Jezebel,
Come on up and read my tarot cards.
He was still reeling from the scotch he'd had earlier with Catherine and stared at the brown liquid as he sat down on his couch. Brass hadn't been sure if he'd wanted to share his feelings about their latest 'tough case' with the new nightshift supervisor or on the subject of Rita Nettles.
Jim knew he'd been enticed into the conversation by the single malt and had given Catherine the basic facts of the affair. Brass smiled and briefly thought of the former nightshift supervisor and realized, sadly that he would have only told Grissom the same things he'd told Catherine.
Jim had met Rita at a friendly little neighborhood bar, that hadn't been in his neighborhood; she drinking a slow gin fizz and he, his usual scotch. The bar hadn't been busy and the two sort of gravitated toward the other and before he knew it, they'd exchanged first names only and were hastily making their exit together.
Stay with me, stay with me.
For tonight you're gonna stay with me.
Stay with me, stay with me.
For tonight you're gonna stay with me
And she had stayed the night. They had sex more times than he realized he was able. But when you're 56 years old and have a chance at a one night stand with a woman who was more than willing, that was an aphrodisiac in itself. She had climaxed at least 7 times and he had used at least 4 condoms.
So, in the mornin', please don't say you love me,
'Cause you know I'll only kick you out the door.
Yeah, I'll pay your cab fare home, you can even use my best cologne,
Just don't be here in the mornin' when I wake up.
Stay with me, stay with me.
For tonight you'd gonna stay with me.
Sit down, get up, get out.
And she was gone the next morning. And truthfully, Jim had thanked his lucky stars.
He'd never gone back to the bar and had never seen her again until five months later when she opened the door when he and Ecklie had arrived to inform her of her husband's death.
Rita had served as good fodder for masturbation, since she'd been the last woman with whom he'd had sex, but he didn't really have feelings for her, but when he watched her walking down the hall of the precinct, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, while cuffed and escorted by 2 uniforms, Jim uncharacteristically felt betrayed.
Rita hadn't betrayed him per se, but it left him with conflicting emotions of what ifs. What if it hadn't been more than a one night stand, what if she'd known he was a cop; what if he'd known she was married to a cop; what if she hadn't betrayed her husband to a group of hardened criminals; what if Rita and Jim had begun a life together and she possibly had done the same thing to him.
Damn, the what ifs, Jim thought as the song continued in the background as he sat on his comfortable couch.
His body was aching somewhat from when he'd had to use his service weapon on the biker leader, Scratch. The man had fearlessly gunned his bike toward the bank of police covering the northern entrance to the warehouse and as Brass had taken 2 quick shots at Scratch. Scratch fell to the ground and his chopper had collided with Brass' black Dodge Charger. The impact had jarred Jim's right hip and shoulder, but other than a couple of bruises, he was alright. And Scratch hadn't been killed, unfortunately.
The earlier scotch had done wonders for him because soon, he was snoring, still sitting upright with the unconsumed glass eighteen year old single malt still in his hand.
THE END
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