A/N: So here's another fluffy, fairly plot-less song fic for ya'll. I was so incredibly pleased with the response for my last one that I felt you guys deserved another one! I decided to scrap the idea of a collection of song fics, simply because with school and work, my updates would be incredibly sporadic. Once summer hits, I can probably start a longer, more involved mystery/romance that I have floating around in my head. I'm so ready to be done with school!
By the way, this is my 40th published story on this site! And I'm rather fond of this one. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, leave your comments, and I will try my darndest to get you a personal reply.
Disclaimer: After 40 stories, you get the idea. Lyrics are "Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5.
Sunday Morning
Sunday morning, rain is falling
Steal some covers, share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
Raindrops drummed a steady rhythm against the window pain, echoing through the tiny apartment. Outside, clouds descended on New York, draping the city in a thick, grey blanket.
A clap of thunder jolted Mac Taylor out of his deep sleep, and he opened both blue eyes to stare sleepily at the darkened sky. The rain was a welcome relief from the hot, sticky summer air. Rain made everything new and green. Rain cooled the asphalt roads and concrete buildings. Rain brought something good and wonderful to the earth.
The sheet that had covered the lower half of his body suddenly slid off as he felt someone shift beside him. Mac rolled onto his side and smiled softly at the sight of curly hair spread haphazardly over the pillow and the thin body resting in a supine position, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her nose wrinkled in her sleep, and part of him desperately wanted to lean over and kiss it. But he knew all hell would break loose if he decided to do that. Stella Bonasera was not a morning person by any means. Not until she had her coffee.
He shifted his weight again, his eyes never leaving her sleeping form. Mac loved these early morning hours when he could just watch her without worrying about getting caught by some overly observant lab tech. He could never deny that she was a beautiful woman, but her beauty revealed itself even more when she was asleep. Saying that she looked like an angel in the early morning light seemed to trite to him, but it was true.
His blue eyes traced her every feature as he wrapped an arm around her.
Her brown curls, wild and passionate like she was. Only she kept her passion hidden beneath a calm exterior until it exploded, and then it was almost too intense to handle.
Olive-toned skin, silky smooth except when he lightly ran his finger or his lips over it. Then it erupted in the goosebumps that gave him a thrill ten times greater than running after suspects or jumping across rooftops.
Brilliant green eyes, flashing with anger one minute and filled with gentle love the next. He loved the way they twinkled at him when she held his hand tightly or while they curled up together with a movie and a bowl of popcorn.
Long fingers, perfectly manicured, still scarred at the tips from her horrible ordeal three years ago.
Dancer's legs, long and lean, especially when wrapped around him.
That sweet scent that was uniquely hers, a combination of her vanilla shampoo and coconut bodywash.
Stella shifted again in her sleep and rolled over to face him, murmuring something about tetracycline and carboxylic acid. He grinned, happy she couldn't see him laughing at her sleeping habits. Somewhere, he remembered her telling him that she snored, and at first he didn't believe it. Until four months ago after their first night together. She wasn't as bad as she thought she was, but when he'd mentioned it to her in the morning, she had actually blushed. Mac just laughed and told her it was endearing.
There was so much about her that he found endearing. Like how she stole the covers every morning and wrapped them around her slim form, so much so that eventually he just gave up fighting for them. Like how she would snuggle into his side when she got cold, and a little smile would cross her face when he wrapped an arm around her to keep her secure. Like how she would snore softly into his ear, not enough to be annoying but just enough to let him know she was sleeping peacefully.
Her nose wrinkled in her sleep, and Mac couldn't take it any more. He softly put a hand on her hip, leaned forward, and planted a tender kiss on the tip of her nose. She wrinkled it again, but her eyes didn't open. Mac grinned and did it again, laughing quietly when she moaned. "Stella," he whispered, brushing a finger against her cheek.
Finally her eyes opened, and blue met green. She blinked at him sleepily, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. "Mmm," she hummed softly.
"Morning," he whispered.
She hummed again, then stretched her long legs lazily. "At least you didn't say it was good."
Mac laughed and reached over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "It's always a good morning when I wake up next to you."
"Hmm, nice try, Mac. You get props for creativity." She rubbed her eyes and yawned. Mac reached out and pulled her closer to his chest, wrapping an arm around her waist. "What time is it?"
He lifted his head to look at the LED clock on her side of the bed. "Almost seven."
Stella groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I don't wanna go to work."
His smile widened when he heard her muffled words, and he marveled at how much she sounded like a petulant child. "It's Sunday morning."
Her green eyes narrowed, and she blew out a breath. "Really?"
"Yep. Yesterday was Saturday. We closed the Hawthorne case."
"Oh, right." She pulled her head back to look at him, a perfect eyebrow cocked teasingly. "Sunday, huh?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Which means I don't have to go to work."
"Because you have the most amazing boss in the world."
Stella grinned. "I think last night speaks for itself on that question."
Mac blushed lightly and chuckled. "Well, a boss does what he can to keep his workers satisfied."
She frowned playfully at him. "I hope that doesn't apply to all of your coworkers."
Mac shook his head and let his fingers slide under her tank top, playing with the sensitive skin at the small of her back. "Just the ones I really, really like."
"Oh, well that makes me feel better." Her eyes fluttered shut as his fingers skimmed her rib cage, moving to her abdomen, and he grinned when he heard her breath catch. "You don't have to go in, do you?"
"I'm on call."
"Good."
Suddenly she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Taken aback, it took Mac about half a second to respond, and then he was kissing her just as ardently. Her hand slid up his chest, briefly touching the scar above his heart before wrapping around his neck. She whimpered softly when he pulled back, and then she moaned as he pressed languid kisses up her jaw to the erogenous spot in front of her ear, gasping softly as he tangled his hand in her curls.
Finally he pulled away, and when he opened his eyes, her green orbs were sparkling at him. In that moment, he thought about how fitting it was that her name was Stella.
"Hi," Stella murmured with a smile.
"Hi," he replied.
"I can't remember the last time we had a day off together."
"Mmm," Mac hummed in agreement. "We've never planned for this contingency."
She cocked an eyebrow at him playfully. "I thought Marines always planned for contingencies."
He shook his head. "Nope. Our motto is semper fi. Other people plan for contingencies and let us do all the work."
Stella grinned. "So, we're going for spontaneity here. You sure you're okay with that?"
"Hey, I can be spontaneous." She let out a bark of laughter, and Mac frowned, pretending to be hurt. "What? I've been spontaneous before."
Stella shook her head and covered her smirk. "Sorry, Mac, but you're not exactly known for being spontaneous. You're a planner. You plan things." At his thoughtful look, she grabbed his hand and gently stroked his broad palm with her thumb. "But that's okay. I like the things you plan."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she laughed. "Really?"
"Oh, most definitely."
Mac looked at her and nodded once, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He could live with that. "So what do you suggest then, Detective Bonasera?"
Stella tapped one slim finger against her lips, and Mac resisted the urge to grab it and kiss it. "It's raining, so that pretty much excludes anything outside."
He slipped his hand under her tank top again and smiled when he saw her swallow once. "I was kinda thinking we could stay inside anyway."
"I can do that," she said, sounding slightly breathless as he moved his hand lower to play with the waistband of her athletic shorts. "So that leaves us with a couple of options."
"Which are?"
"Movie?"
Mac shook his head, and his hand slid farther down. "That would require going outside, Stella."
"We could rent one."
"Again, that would require going outside." He inched closer to her, enjoying the spark that appeared in her eyes. "I'm comfortable."
"Oh-kay." She pursed her lips thoughtfully, and Mac once again resisted the urge to kiss them softly. "What about breakfast?"
"I don't have much of an appetite at the moment." He moved again until there was barely any space between them. She sighed softly as he gently kissed her chin. "But," his lips brushed against her cheek, "I can think of a way to work it up."
She moaned as his ministrations moved down the sinew of her neck to the hollow of her throat. Damn, the man knew what he was doing. Her hands threaded through his short dark hair when he gently nipped at her shoulder and then soothed the spot with his tongue. "If you leave a mark, Mac Taylor…" she warned playfully.
He picked up his head and looked at her, grinning at her hollow threat. "You'll do what?"
"I'll…" she started, but Stella quickly lost her train of thought as he rolled on top of her and his hand slid up her shirt to cup her breast. "Mac… I'm gonna…" She sighed in frustration, and he grinned against her cheek. "Oh, to hell with it," she said just before she kissed him hard, swallowing Mac's chuckle.
Fingers trace your every outline
Paint a picture with my hands
Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm
Change of weather, still together when it ends
Mac smiled happily to himself as he pulled a spoon out of Stella's dishwasher an hour later, using it to scramble the eggs into just the consistency she liked. In the background, he heard the water running in the bathroom and the muffled sound of her singing. He loved to hear her sing in the morning. She had a beautiful voice, and he'd tried on more than one occasion to get her to sing in his jazz club but it was to no avail.
He figured he'd get her there eventually. Mac Taylor could be a very persuasive man.
Exhibit A: This morning.
His grin widened as still shots of their hour together popped up in his head. Every outline, every curve was etched into his memory, and he suppressed a shiver at the thought. He'd slyly suggested that they continue their bedroom activities in the bathroom, but she'd made him go start breakfast, saying that if they did that they wouldn't be out of there until lunch. Not that Mac would've complained, but she was hungry. Nor had she had her morning coffee yet. He was lucky he'd gotten her to talk without her morning coffee.
As if it read his thoughts, the coffee maker dinged at him, and he poured the eggs into a skillet with olive oil before crossing the tiny kitchen to turn it off. The smell of the brew wafted through the tiny apartment, and he breathed deeply. It was yet another scent he'd come to associate with Stella. She made the best Irish Coffee he'd ever had.
It seemed almost funny to him that she broke nearly every rule she had when it came to him. After the ordeal with Frankie, Stella had mentioned that she never allowed men in her apartment, keeping it as a safe place in case something went wrong. But here he was, cooking breakfast in her kitchen, sleeping in her bed on nights that they didn't have to work. It showed the deep trust she had in him; she trusted him with her life and her heart. It was strange to have a woman trust him so much.
Their entire relationship was somewhat of an anomaly to him. Peyton had pursued him relentlessly until he finally gave in, and the only other serious relationship he'd been in before was with Claire. The fact that he and Stella were so close and the lousy track record he had with relationships had almost deterred him, but then there were days like this. Days that it felt right. Comfortable. She was the perfect balance to him, her passionate drive evening out his stoic caution. Stella brought out a side in him he thought he'd lost for forever. She was his savior, the one that had picked up the pieces of his shattered heart and put them back together again.
He just didn't know why it had taken him six years to figure that out. But he was going to make it work.
The eggs popped at him noisily, interrupting his nostalgic musings. Mac expertly turned them over, breaking them apart as they cooked slowly.
"Mmm," a familiar voice behind him said. He smiled as Stella came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. "That smells amazing."
"Cinnamon rolls are in the oven too. And your coffee is on the counter."
Stella softly kissed his cheek, smiling as he rattled off each of her favorite breakfast foods. "You're amazing."
"I know," he said with a cheeky grin, and she laughed.
"Want some?"
He nodded. "Sure, I'll take a cup."
As she poured the coffee into a pair of mugs, he made sure the eggs were a nice golden brown before sliding them out of the skillet onto a plate. Stella set the steaming mugs down on the table nearby before grabbing the plate of eggs off the counter and carrying them to the table as well. Mac opened the oven and pulled out the cinnamon rolls. Deciding to let them cool for a moment before he added the icing, he reached up into the cabinet and got down a couple of plates, turning with the full intention of handing them to Stella. But when he saw her, he just stopped.
Stella stared at him for a moment, a slight blush spreading over her Mediterranean features at his unabashed stare. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious. She glanced down at her attire. She'd put back on the tank top and shorts she'd discarded earlier, knowing it was far too hot for anything more, and her hair hung in damp curls on her bare shoulders.
Mac shook his head slowly and smiled. "Nothing," he said, handing her the plates, brushing his fingers against hers. "Just thinking about how beautiful you are."
Her blush intensified, and a beaming smile broke out over her face. He'd said it before, but hearing it again always made a girl feel good. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Within minutes, the icing was on the cinnamon rolls, two sugars were in Mac's coffee, and the two were seated at her table, their legs occasionally brushing against one another just because they could.
"Wow," Stella said, taking a bite out of one huge cinnamon roll. "Where'd you learn to cook like this?"
"Oh, it's been passed down in my family for years."
"Really?"
"Sure. See, I had this great-great-great uncle who was a chef, and he created this recipe."
"Huh. What was his name?"
With a solemn, completely straight face, Mac replied, "Uncle Pillsbury."
Stella stared at him for a moment until her face broke out in a wide smile. "Nice, Taylor." She chuckled and shook her head, smiling at the sound of his laughter. "You almost had me going there for a second."
"I just couldn't pass that one up."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Mac."
Suddenly the sound of his phone filled the air from the coffee table where it had been discarded the night before. With a groan and an apologetic glance in Stella's direction, Mac pushed his chair back from the table and crossed the room in three long strides. "Taylor," he said, trying to keep his voice level.
"Mac, it's Don."
"Flack," he mouthed at Stella, who nodded once. Turning back to the receiver, he said, "Yeah, what's up."
"Hey, we got a DB at Forty-fifth and Broadway. Danny's on his way."
"Uh," Mac rubbed his face and sighed, glancing at Stella.
She shook her head and gave him an understanding smile. "Go," she said quietly. He cocked an eyebrow at her as if to ask her if she was sure. She nodded, and her smile widened. "It's okay. Go."
"Mac, ya still with me?"
He gave her a grateful smile. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. I'll be there in thirty. Get Danny to start processing."
"Yeah, sure thing, Mac."
Mac hung up the phone and tossed it back on the couch. "I'm really sorry, Stel," he said, turning to face her again.
Stella smiled, pushed her chair back, crossed the room, and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers playing with his t-shirt. "It's okay, Mac. Duty calls."
"You sure?"
She smiled again and brushed a brief kiss against his lips. "I'd expect you to be just as forgiving if it were me."
The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, and he pressed his lips to hers again. "What in the world did I do to deserve such a wonderful woman?"
Stella grinned, her green eyes twinkling. "You're you."
He kissed her again, more passionately this time, breathing in her unique scent as she pressed against his chest. She captured his bottom lip between hers, the sound of his moan rumbled through her. When the need for oxygen became too much to bear, she pulled back, smiling again as he brushed a kiss against her forehead.
Mac pulled away and stared at her for a moment. Her brow furrowed curiously, and she cocked an eyebrow at him. "What?" she asked.
"Hang on just a sec." Without letting go of her waist, Mac reached for his phone and pressed a couple buttons. He held it against his ear, waiting for the other person to pick up.
"Messer."
"Danny, it's Mac."
"Yeah, 'sup?"
"Hey, I'm caught up in something out in Brooklyn, and I'm afraid I can't make it out to the scene." He grinned at Stella's surprised look.
"Ya want me to come pick ya up?"
"No, no. I think Hawkes is on duty today; see if he can come help you out."
"Yeah, sure. Everythin' okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine. I'll come into the lab later this afternoon and get caught up on everything."
"Okay, see ya then."
Mac hung up the phone and turned back toward Stella, who was shaking her head in amusement. "What?" he asked.
"I just never thought I'd see the day when Mac Taylor would lie about not going to a crime scene."
He shrugged. "There's a first time for everything. I wanted to enjoy my Sunday morning." Mac took her hand in his, entwining their fingers together. "How's that for spontaneity?"
She grinned again and softly kissed him, cupping his face with her free hand. "I'm impressed," she whispered as they broke apart.
"Back to breakfast?"
Stella nodded. "Back to breakfast."
Inside, they sat down at the table again, legs brushing together every once in a while as they chatted animatedly, simply enjoying their rainy Sunday morning.
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning, and I never want to leave