Written for xx_nieno's prompt and fanart, which you can find at the raydorflynn community on LJ.
If you don't wish to go to LJ, the prompt was: I thought how romantic it would be if Andy and Sharon would end up looking at the stars on their more-or-less first date. *more or less read: because Sharon didn't want to go out with Andy when he wanted to get some lunch. Then they had to go to a crime scene of course. And in the end Sharon was hungry and Andy arranged a midnight picnic in the park underneath the stars.
"Oh, Lieutenant!" Sharon Raydor balked in the doorway when she spotted him sitting at the table.
He took a swig of Coke, holding the bottle like he used to beer in the old days. "There's always gonna be the chance that one of us will be in here," he eventually drawled as she continued to hover.
"Oh... Yes." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket; her chin tilting determinedly as she finally entered the break room with a quick smile directed his way. "Hello... Andy."
She wasn't the best at casual, he decided. "Cap," he returned as a greeting just to annoy her. It worked, apparently. Her back stiffened and her insincere smile widened into a grimace, but she made no comment. He was still trying not to chuckle when she made to open the refrigerator.
"It's empty," he warned her.
She looked over her shoulder. "What?"
"The fridge. It's the last Friday of the month. It's empty."
"I..." She shook her head, confused. "My lunch-"
"Over there." He pointed to the jumble of containers balanced on top of the limited surface space of the counter. "Hurry up and eat it though. All the contents go in the trash when Sandy returns."
She blinked over her glasses at him. "Sandy?"
"The cleaner. You haven't met her?"
"Oh, yes. I just..." She folded her arms and glanced from him to the counter and back again. "Why are our lunches not in the fridge?"
He sighed dramatically. "Every last Friday of the month, Sandy cleans out the fridge. Containers are placed on the counter until around three. That's when Sandy returns and throws the contents away."
She frowned over at the haphazard mess of multicolored plastic lunch boxes. "But not the containers?"
"No. They get put in the dishwasher. They'll be ready to pick up when we head home."
She poked at one of the larger containers gingerly. "So, Friday's lunch needs to be something that isn't going to spoil without refrigeration."
Only Sharon Raydor would panic about her food rotting in an airconditioned office. "Not all Fridays; just the last one of the month," he reminded her with a smile.
She didn't return his smile or look convinced that Sandy's routine was a good one. "Where's the rest?" she asked.
"Rest of what?"
"Rest of what was in the fridge." She was stacking the containers into a neat pile, looking for hers, he assumed.
"Anything else left in the fridge? Old apples and stuff? That's all gone."
She turned and pinned him with a glare which made him nervous even though he hadn't committed any sort of crime. "Gone? Where?" she demanded.
"The trash can," he replied slowly, quite sure she was unaware she was not only scaring him but turning him on as well.
"My lunch was in a paper bag."
It was his turn to blink in confusion, until it dawned on him where her lunch must be. "Oh."
She toed the lever to the trashcan and peered inside, obviously coming to the same conclusion as he had as to her lunch's whereabouts.
"Oh," she repeated his previous expression.
The can's lid snapped shut with a bang when she removed her foot. Then, shoulders slumped, she sagged into the chair beside him.
"It's..." he started.
"Covered with someone's leftover spaghetti and sauce." She caught a glimpse of his blush. "Yours?" she guessed.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "I-"
"I suppose I'll know in future," she sighed. "Someone must have forgotten to explain about the last Friday of the month thing when I took the induction tour."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Her welcome had been less than... welcoming...
"I need a real coffee," he heard himself blurting out.
Her eyes darted to the coffee machine on the counter.
"Real coffee. Mario on the corner also does great rolls. Why don't you come with me? I'll pick up the check, considering the spaghetti and sauce."
"No," she refused quickly. She stood, her stance uncomfortable. "Thank you, but-"
He scraped his chair back and stood too. "Come on, Sharon," he said, liking the way her first name sounded special every time he used it. "Provenza will tell you I don't offer to pay that often."
She smiled at his weak attempt of a joke. "I couldn't-"
He gave her his most charming smile. "You need to take advantage of my Italian guilt..."
Her lips pressed together before her tongue flicked out to moisten them. His gaze followed every moment.
"I-"
The break room door burst open.
"We're rolling!" Provenza announced. "We've got at least five bodies in a house at Brentwood."
"A shooting-"
"No. Cause of death is unknown at this point. Forensics are on their way, but it looks like the bodies have probably been there a few years."
"Years? How-"
"Maintenance guy ripped up the floorboards and found 'em," Provenza explained. "No stench because they've been...embalmed somehow." He shrugged. "We're checking if there are any other bodies in the yard," he added grimly.
All thoughts of sharing lunch now disappeared.
.O.O.
Sharon stood in front of the whiteboard and slowly removed the victims' photos. Next, she unpinned Broderick Manning, their killer. Her hand shook a little when she took down the final photograph: Joan Manning, their killer's mother. Joan Manning had known her son was killing women for over fifteen years. What sort of woman continued to allow a person to do such a thing? Even her own son...
"Maternal love is strong," a voice said behind her, almost reading her mind.
She turned. Andy Flynn was slowly straightening his rolled-up sleeves.
"You thinking about Rusty?" he asked, surprising her.
"I..." She flicked through the photos and stared at Carly Jones, the first victim and Manning's prom date. "No. Just no."
"Come on. We can finish the paperwork in the morning." Andy took the photos out of her hand and threw them in a folder which he then tossed onto his desk. "The stars are out."
She blinked at his cryptic comment.
"And-" He checked his watch. "-It's after eleven and we need to get some food into you before you faint."
"I'm okay," she protested, but it was too late, her stomach had been reminded about its desperate state and it growled loudly at its lack of sustenance. "Oh!" she cried, automatically placing her hand over the noise continuing to emanate from her stomach.
He chuckled and gestured over his shoulder. "Come on," he repeated. "Grab your stuff. I'll drop you home after you eat."
Her stomach roiled and grumbled out loud again at the word 'eat'. "Thanks," she said, feeling too weak to refuse anything at this point.
She leaned her head back against the rest once they'd left the building and were driving along. Flynn was a capable driver, and she soon allowed herself to relax. Ten minutes later, she woke with a start when the car stopped and she heard the trunk pop open.
She peered out the window. This wasn't her apartment block.
"Andy..."
They were pulled over next to a children's playground. The swings rocked forlornly in the night's unexpected wind. A tree, which offered shade during the day, sang mournfully as its branches creaked together. The houses that bordered the park were quiet; the area's population of predominantly young families well and truly asleep. Secure patches of brightness from the streetlights reassuringly dotted their way along the street, but the park itself seemed dark and uninviting at this late hour.
Her door opened and Flynn's hand appeared in front of her face. In his other hand he seemed to be holding... a picnic basket?
"Andy?" she breathed.
"I called Mario earlier. I thought you could chow down on some of his best stuff between interviews, but as it turned out..."
Somehow she took his proffered hand and let him pull her out of the car even as she shook her head.
"Used to live around here a few years ago; before... There's a spot over here where the lights of the city are dulled and you can get a clear view. The stars are out," he repeated his earlier remark.
"Oh." She felt a little silly at her lack of eloquence. And her lack of resistance when he led her to a small grassed area well back from the road.
"Chicken or tuna fish?" he asked after he'd encouraged her to sit. He held up two rolls.
"Tuna, please," she murmured. Her mouth was watering so much that any good sense she should be displaying began to evaporate. She did hesitate briefly, however, before she removed the wrapping from the roll, but her stomach chose that moment to again hurry her along by audibly embarrassing her.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be. It was my spaghetti, remember."
She let herself smile and relax, the park's atmosphere no longer causing her any apprehension. She trusted Andy, she acknowledged as she took an appreciative first bite.
"Mmm... Good," she mumbled from her full mouth. Polite conversation be damned, she thought, as she ate greedily. The only thing distracting her between bites was Andy's sleeve occasionally brushing against hers. The tiny strip of grass was not meant to accommodate two adults sitting side by side.
She gulped, willing herself not to think how much more room they'd have if they lay down and...
"You don't seem the star gazing type," she noted, still chewing and hoping to stifle her wandering thoughts.
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," he said, producing a soda from the basket he'd sat near their feet.
She swallowed hard and glanced at his profile. "There's a lot I do know," she said softly.
He turned to face her. "Yeah."
She carefully placed the remainder of her roll back into the basket, her hunger abated for the moment. She sipped her soda, an idea forming of how she could satisfy the rest of her cravings...
"Thank you," she murmured, taking another sip of drink and doing her best to ignore thatinsane line of thought.
"Any time, Captain."
She raised an eyebrow in his direction at his formal way of addressing her before placing her hands by her sides on the grass and leaning back to stare up at the stars. The sky was indeed clear, despite the wind and its promise of some rare rain, and the stars were indeed brightly visible from this angle.
She froze when she felt his fingers skim against hers as he settled next to her, his position soon mirroring hers.
"Yep, the stars are out," he whispered.
She focused on the night sky, and forced herself to breathe calmly.
"The stars are out," she agreed. "Thank you, Andy," she repeated her earlier sentiment.
"Any time, Sharon," he replied.
The sounds from the seemingly distant city swirled around them as they sat, neither of them bothering to speak now, the day's events catching up on them both.
"Shooting star," he murmured a long while later, breaking their silence.
She nodded and crept closer as a large gust of wind suddenly elicited a shiver.
"Tell me when you're ready to go," he said.
"Not yet," she confessed. She again felt his fingers gently touch hers. This time she didn't freeze, or move her hand away at all. Instead, she curled her hand closer to his and hummed contentedly. "It seems a shame to waste the stars."
The End