Title: Rain Soaked Kisses
Characters: Michelle Dessler/Tony Almeida
Word Count: 2,710
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Michelle shows up on Tony's doorstep one night, wanting to talk.
Author's Notes: Post Day 2. I was told that I needed to stop hoarding fic, so I figured I'd hurry up and post this one.
"Michelle, hey. What're, what are you doing here?"
Dark eyes rose to meet his and the intensity he saw nearly knocked him on his ass. Of all the ways Michelle Dessler had looked at him in the eight months he'd known her, she'd only once looked at him that way: In the middle of a trying time, when her emotions had gotten the better of her. Once the stress went away, and the day was over, though, everything had gone back to normal. They were just co-workers, almost friends if they tried hard enough. Nothing more. It was for the best, really. Really.
"I got home from work a couple of hours ago and I had a message," she trailed off, dropping her eyes again and fidgeting with her sleeve. "It was, I just," she stopped again, looking up at him and hopefully seeing both his concern and his confusion and not just the confusion. Michelle was always the one he could count on to be articulate, whereas he was the foot-in-mouth type.
"I just needed to get out and take a walk. And I found myself here. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come."
Tony's hand shot out, grabbing her arm and pulling her back before she could get too far. His hand came away wet, and he remembered the angry line of storms he'd seen on the radar at the bottom of the baseball game. She'd been walking in that. Pulling her inside he took in her appearance; soaked jeans, sweatshirt that was probably not nearly as dark when it was dry, hair nearly matted to her skull. She looked like a drowned rat. There was no way he was letting her go back out there.
"Hey, hey, let me get you something dry to wear and then we can talk about what's got you so upset."
His hand slid down Michelle's arm to take her hand, squeezing her cold fingers tightly. She pressed back and allowed him to lead her, no tugging required, down the hall and into his bedroom. He felt water drip from her sleeve down onto his hand and brushed the top of her hand gently.
"Towel first," he commented, dropping her hand and leaving her dripping in the middle of his bedroom. He grabbed the first thing he could find, jogging back to her in case she was about to make a break for it. "Here ya go," he whispered, draping the towel across her shoulders.
"Thank you," she murmured, lowering her eyes and tugging the towel around herself even tighter. "By the time I realized where I was, it was already raining."
He shrugged one shoulder, silently reaching out and rubbing his hands along her arms. She was shivering just slightly, and he increased his rubbing.
"I've got more towels, don't worry."
She smiled faintly, shifting her footing, moving closer to him. Smiling back at her, he lifted his hand, brushing a wet chunk of her hair back behind her ear. Her cheek was chilly underneath his knuckles. His hand slid around to her ponytail, squeezing excess water out of her hair. Michelle stepped closer, lifting her chin and making eye contact with him again. Even that simple move was enough to make his heart thud. He licked his lips quickly, trying to ignore the way she mirrored the action. His head dipped slightly, falling closer to hers, so close he could feel her breath puffing against his cheek warmly.
"Listen, Michelle," he blurted, lowering his hands and taking a step back. "Why don't you jump in the shower, get warm? I'll grab some clothes for you and leave them on the counter. You uh, you can take all the time you need."
Michelle nodded. "Thanks," she murmured sheepishly, pulling away completely.
He shooed her to the bathroom while he dug in his drawers looking for something small enough for her to wear. Finally finding something, he carried it into the bathroom, calling out instructions on how to operate the shower.
"Anyway, clothes are on the sink out here. I'll close the door behind me."
Michelle sounded tired, resigned when she called back, "Thanks, Tony."
Lacking anything better to do while she showered, he decided to make coffee. It would warm her up, and keep him awake well enough to be able drive her home after they'd talked. Once it was on to brew, though, he found himself without a task again. He'd grabbed take out for dinner on his way home, so there were no dishes to do, and the cartons had already been disposed of, so there was nothing to clean up. The game had ended while he was in his room with Michelle, so the local news from Chicago was on instead. Tony flicked off the TV instead of trying to find something else to watch.
He was back in the kitchen, watching the coffee pot fill, when Michelle wandered in, clearing her throat lightly. He turned quickly, smothering a grin at how adorable she looked in his clothes. His shirt was hanging down almost to her knees, and his pants swallowed her whole. Her hair was wet and curling wildly behind her ears. Her cheeks were pink, probably from the hot water in the shower. Hopefully not from his quiet perusal.
"Hey," he greeted lamely. "I'm making coffee."
Michelle smiled quickly. "That sounds really good. Thanks for all this. I didn't mean to intrude on your-"
"You didn't intrude; I was just watching TV and trying not to fall asleep on the couch."
Michelle nodded, joining him at the edge of the counter while he grabbed two mugs and poured the hot coffee. She reached around him without asking, grabbing the creamer he'd set out and a packet of sugar. He had to lean back to avoid pressing his nose into her hair and smelling his own shampoo and soap on her skin. It was a bad idea to even think about it.
"Alright," he said finally, once they'd taken their coffee into the living room and she'd tucked herself under his one and only "throw" blankets (Cubs logo, of course) at the opposite end of the couch from him. "Tell me what happened to get you so worked up?"
Michelle glanced down at the mug in her hands, bringing it to her lips and closing her eyes. She opened them again and shook her head, putting her coffee mug down on the table beside her.
"My brother is a jerk."
Tony coughed, getting a smirk for his troubles. He'd heard the way Danny talked to her that night at CTU, heard him shouting that everything was all her fault. Not that he himself had been much nicer to her throughout the night, but he didn't get personal quite the way her brother did.
"He called me to tell me that he and Carrie are getting back together, trying to work it out, or something," Michelle continued before he had to ask what Danny had done. "It's absolute bullshit; she just started talking to him again to get back at me and I know that as soon as she's done with him he's going to fall apart like last time, and he's going to blame me all over again. I can't watch him do that again, Tony. Not to his kids, not to his, well now his ex-wife, not to himself. I won't pick up the pieces for him again."
"Did you tell him any of that?" he asked gently, scooting across the couch so that they were closer.
"I thought about it, I really did, but when I called him back, I heard her in the background and I just hung up." Michelle dropped her head, ashamed.
Tony touched her cheek, getting her to look at him. "Carrie's a bitch. Nothing she did to your brother was your fault. You didn't introduce them so that he could cheat on his wife with her, you didn't tell her to dump him, and you certainly didn't tell her to try and do it again. If he's too screwed up to see that, it's his fault, not yours."
His arm slid around her shoulder, drawing her head down toward his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I keep putting you in the middle of the Dessler Family Drama."
"Hey, some day I'll return the favor."
To his relief, she smiled. "Yeah?"
"If you really want to witness grown men crying like babies over baseball games and the ensuing arguments when their wives tell them to grow up, sure."
Michelle laughed, reaching out again for her coffee and shifting against him, testing for a comfortable position for them both. "I'd like that."
He wanted to show her, he admitted. Wanted her to get to witness firsthand what his oversized family was like at Easter, or Christmas or Thanksgiving. He wanted to have the same sort of chance with her family, too, even if it did have to mean sitting across a dinner table from the employee who'd tried to get them both fired and her obnoxious, shithead of a brother.
"Tony?"
"Hmm?" he asked absently, realizing his fingers were making gentle paths up and down her arm. He stopped the movement and instead lifted his coffee to his lips. Now really wasn't the best time to admit that he wanted her, now was it?
"I'm sorry about the day of the bomb. About going behind your back with Jack."
After a few moments, he found his voice. "Me too. I should've believed you from the start, instead of listening to Carrie's BS."
"She wasn't exactly subtle about it being a vendetta against me."
He snorted, still slightly confused how women could make things so personal when it wasn't about them to begin with. "I'm not sure that woman has a subtle bone in her body. Still, though, I shoulda seen it."
Instead of giving him the 'I Told You So' that he probably deserved, Michelle just shifted again, settling closer.
"Tony?" she asked again after about fifteen minutes of silence.
"Yeah?"
She pulled away slightly. "Is that why we never went out? Because of her? And because of me?"
He didn't really have an answer for that. To say yes would be somewhat true, but mostly untrue, and no wouldn't begin to actually cover it. He hadn't pushed the issue about them going out because she hadn't. He hadn't pushed the issue about them going out because it was easier just to avoid the subject all together, to see her at work every day and smile politely, and pretend that she'd never grabbed his face and kissed him with a desperation that made his toes curl inside his shoes. He hadn't pushed the issue because it was easier to avoid the nasty statements from people, and to avoid having to hide it from the higher ups. He'd never been that kind of guy, and the last time he'd taken that chance, she'd been a traitor. It wasn't exactly the track record he wanted people to remember.
"Kinda," he admitted. "But not because of what either of you did or didn't do. It just gets complicated when you start dating someone in the office."
"Oh."
He could tell she was upset with that answer by the way she stiffened and sat up. She moved away from his arm, leaning back into the couch arm for just a second before setting her mug down and pushing the blanket off her legs.
"I'm gonna change and head home. The rain's mostly stopped now I think."
He grabbed her arm before she could flee the room. Shaking his head, he put his drink aside and stood with her.
"Your clothes are still wet, you put them back on and you'll catch cold. Keep what you have on and I'll drive you."
Michelle shook her head rapidly, biting her lip and looking down and away. "You don't have to do that, I've already made enough of a pest of myself. I'll be fine walking home."
"The hell you will, it's after ten. I'm taking you home and that's final."
He saw her eyes narrow, but she didn't respond. So maybe ordering her wasn't the way to go, but he wasn't going to let her walk across town by herself at almost eleven on a weeknight.
"Fine. I'll go get my clothes."
She pulled her arm out of his grasp, not quite stomping back toward his bedroom. Heaving a sigh, Tony scrubbed a hand across his face and followed her.
"Look, Michelle," he called, treading softly as he entered his own room. She was seated on his bed, fighting to slide her feet into her sneakers. She didn't look up; instead tying the laces with fervor he'd never seen. He walked over to his dresser and grabbed his wallet and keys, pocketing them both before crossing to stand in front of her. Without a word he squatted, touching her hands and stopping her movement.
"Instead of taking you home for good, why don't you get a change of clothes and we can grab a late dinner somewhere?"
There, he'd done it. He'd asked her out. Probably not as delicately or romantically as he could have, but he'd asked her to share a meal with him outside of work. It was a step, right? A baby step, but still a step.
"Wouldn't that just complicate things too much?"
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "I can handle a few complications. Please have a late dinner-early midnight snack with me?"
Michelle lowered her head. "I don't know, Tony."
"You'll never get to see the Almeida Family Feud if you're not speakin' to me," he reminded teasingly, jiggling their joined hands.
Her eyes softened a little, and although it was a bit watery, it was still a smile that she gave him.
"Very true."
He shifted his footing, trying not to land on his butt in front of her. He failed, but since it made her laugh, he figured his ego would be fine.
"Okay."
She stood, holding out an arm to help him up, grunting with the effort it took to haul him to his feet. It also put them nearly toe to toe. Their joined hands rested against his chest, the back of her hand firmly over his heart. He felt her thumb caress his. Somehow his other hand had ended up on her shoulder, but she didn't stop it as it moved up to stroke her cheek. Her lips parted, like she was going to say something, but no sound came out. Moving closer, he kissed her before he could talk himself out of it.
Her kiss was sweet, coffee-flavored mostly, but he still tasted her the same way he had two months ago. Her lips were warm, soft against his, and she surprised him with the gentle tug on his upper lip, holding it in her mouth and lapping at it slowly with her tongue. When he tried to mimic the action on her, she murmured and squirmed closer.
His lungs burned before he pulled his mouth away. Sucking down a few deep breaths, he tilted her chin up and kissed her again; sliding his tongue past her lips and tracing the ridges on the back side of her teeth. He felt her lick him gently, and changed his angle, pressing his tongue across hers.
She whimpered when he broke the kiss, giving her bottom lip an experimental tug before retreating and resting his forehead on hers. Her breath was hot against his mouth, and he licked his lips quickly.
"I think the rain started again," she whispered finally. It took him a moment to remember what rain even was.
"Guess we've gotta stay in a little longer then," he answered, cupping the back of her head and kissing her again softly.
Her hand landed in his hair, nails lightly tapping his scalp. They bit just slightly when he hauled her closer.
"I wasn't that hungry anyway."
He nuzzled his nose against her neck, smelling his soap and shampoo on her skin. Rain fresh, or something, that's what he'd bought the last time. He chuckled, it was fitting. It was what brought them here. "Me neither."