Prompt: fire
Michelle had done something that no one had done since his wife. She'd started a fire within him, and he wasn't entirely sure that was metaphorical. His gut seemed to burn anytime she was around, he couldn't seem to form words the way he should and certain parts of his anatomy seemed to think he was 15 again.
He wasn't 15 and it had been so long since he'd had to do all this that he fumbled it quite a bit. He ended up arguing with her at every turn, unable to get words out right and just wanting to kiss her all the time.
Like now. It was nearly three in the morning after a long, hard case and nearly everyone had gone home and she just wouldn't leave. She was determined to finish her paperwork and it was driving him crazy.
"Michelle, I'm calling you a cab. Get your stuff and we'll go wait downstairs for it."
She didn't even look up at him.
"Michelle…Michelle this isn't a request."
She looked up now and glared at him, "I'm not going home, Mac. This needs to be finished."
He knows he should walk away. Hell, if she wants to stay, needs to stay then he should let her. Instead he walks over and grabs her arm, "Time to go, Dessler. You need sleep."
"I'm just fine. I don't need sleep and I don't need to leave." She pulls away and he remembers exactly how deep her training goes. He looks at her and wonders if he's going to end up on his ass.
He kisses her and decides it's worth the risk.