WHAT Did You Say?
Disclaimer – Don't own 'em...but wish to heck I did.
A/N – This story was inspired by NettieC's excellent (not to mention hilarious) JAG fic Once A Pun A Time JAG. This story will stand apart from any and all previous works, and, for purposes of continuity, Hawke and Caitlin are not together at the beginning of the story, which takes place sometime after the S3 episode "Half-Pint," to allow for the character of Le. The line "the only stupid question is the one you never ask" comes from an old pen pal of mine, when he was attending the US Naval Academy, and the new line "Do not operate mouth unless brain is engaged" comes from my father. Thanks, Dad.
She's my friend. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet, Stringfellow Hawke had been allowing his mind to go places it hadn't gone in a long time...and, String said to himself, places my mind shouldn't be going now. There was always the possibility of him buying it on a stunt, or a mission. Or, the possibility of Caitlin O'Shannessy packing her bags and heading back to Texas. The first two worries he could live with. The third, if he dwelt on it too much, would undoubtedly kill him. Or gimme a lifetime full of bills, as Dom once said. Just then, he heard another voice in his head—Right, String. She's just a friend. If you believe that, then I've got a piece of ocean front property in Arizona to sell you, and I'll throw in the Golden Gate Bridge for free. Suddenly, String had to laugh at the thought that had crossed his mind. Sounds like lyrics for a country music song, he said to himself as he tried to push the thoughts of Caitlin out of his head again.
Ever since he'd met Caitlin, Hawke had been fighting some very deep and quite unprofessional feelings for his young co-worker, and, he had to admit, best friend. And, he also had to admit how attractive she was. He'd seen the way men had looked at her, especially in those tight blue jeans she had taken to wearing recently, and he had reluctantly admitted to himself that he hadn't been very comfortable with the idea of another man staring at Caitlin that way—and that was when he'd allowed his mind and heart to go to the forbidden place—the place that involved Caitlin O'Shannessy standing in front of him wearing nothing but her million-dollar smile. Or, laying naked on her back in his bed, wearing nothing but her million-dollar smile. And, his mind had returned to that place many times in the past month and five days, much to his frustration. He knew he could never act on his thoughts, because of the curse he thought he had...the curse that anyone he loved, or might love, would die. But sometimes...
Shaking his head, Hawke tried to concentrate on the paperwork he was staring at, until the object of his thoughts came into the office looking for him. "Hey, Hawke. What's up?" Hawke heard Caitlin O'Shannessy's voice behind him.
Terrible choice of words, Caitlin. Hawke knew very well what was "up." The same thing that was "up" practically every time he heard her voice lately. There was something about that Texas drawl of hers that Hawke had discovered was irresistible, in more ways than one. "Nothing," he mumbled, concentrating again on the paperwork before him as he tried, once again, to force the vision of her, naked, in his bed back at the cabin, out of his mind. Which is where I'm going to be before long at this rate—completely out of my mind. Hawke knew the absolute last thing he wanted to happen was for Caitlin to figure out what was "up" with him. That would—well, I'd rather not think about that right now, Hawke said to himself as he noticed that Caitlin had perched herself on the corner of the desk and glanced suggestively at him.
"You're doing paperwork?" Caitlin asked, incredulously, as she gazed lovingly down at String. "I can't believe it. You must be going soft."
"Believe it, Cait," Hawke grumbled, sliding his chair away from her, as he silently thanked a God that he wasn't sure he believed in that the large desk was hiding the betrayal of his body. I had to do something to get those visions of you in the Airwolf flight suit, and visions of you demurely stepping out of the Airwolf flight suit, out of my head. Trouble is, it's not working. Especially with you sitting that close to me and wearing that scent. He'd never known Cait to wear perfume around him, but for some reason, she had today, and the fragrance, along with her general nearness to him, was making it even harder to concentrate. Along with making something else harder, Hawke mused to himself. Hawke winced at her "going soft" comment, knowing she meant it as a reference to his general dislike of paperwork, but also knowing that he hadn't "gone soft" in another way. And I won't be as long as you're sitting on the corner of the desk and wearing that intoxicating scent. In fact, Hawke figured that even if she moved away from him, he wouldn't be going soft any time soon.
"So?" Cait demanded, after realizing that Hawke was completely ignoring her, yet again.
"So—what?" Hawke answered her question with a question of his own. He'd gotten so involved with staring at the numbers on the papers in front of him that he'd completely ignored the fact that she was trying to talk to him. For more reasons than one. Then, he added, "Sorry, Caitlin. I'm just trying to get this done. What did you say?" He felt embarrassed at how his first question had sounded—to his ears, it came out sounding incredibly harsh.
"So I was saying, Hawke," she said as she leaned closer to him to try to block his view of the papers strewn about the desk, "that Dom's gone home for the day, so why don't we lock this place up and grab some dinner? My treat?" She knew her suggestion would probably be met with Hawke's usual stone-cold ignorance, but she remembered something her dad once told her—the only stupid question is the one you never ask. So, Cait figured she might as well at least ask. Heck, I might get lucky.
"WHAT did you say?" Hawke demanded, and Caitlin realized that she'd said "I figured I'd ask. Heck, I might get lucky" out loud. Oh, crap. I can't believe I said that out loud! Her fair skin turned a deep shade of red.
"S-Sorry, Hawke," Cait stammered, embarrassed. "I was just—just thinkin' out loud."
"Sure, Cait. Whatever you say," Hawke said, and smiled at her, all the while thinking I know exactly what she said. The question is, why in the heck did she say it? "Gimme—ten minutes to straighten this up, and we're outta here," he promised. Then he realized something. If I didn't know better, I'd swear Caitlin just asked me out for a date.
"Sure, String," Cait said as she moved off the desk to a chair a few feet away from him. Sitting down again, Caitlin demurely crossed her legs as she said, "You doing paperwork. I have to say, I'm impressed." She smiled lovingly at him, even as thoughts of a decidedly naughty nature went through her mind. Then she said to herself, I can't believe he said he'd go with me. Maybe—maybe things will start to change between us. I sure hope so.
"There's a lot of impressive things about me, Cait," Hawke said with a smile of his own, even as he tried to focus on the paperwork he was doing. Great. The longer she keeps distracting me, the longer it's gonna take to finish all this. And I was right. Even though she's moved away from me, I still haven't..."gone soft," he winced inwardly as he realized he probably wouldn't in the foreseeable future, either.
"I just bet there are," Caitlin said, and batted her eyes flirtatiously at him. Now he knew he'd need twenty minutes.
Twenty-five minutes later (the extra five minutes necessitated because Caitlin moved back onto the desk and distracted him again), they took one of the patriotically-painted Jeeps to a restaurant a few blocks away from the hangar. Since neither Hawke nor Cait had eaten lunch, they were both starving. Fortunately, it didn't take them long to be seated.
"What are you gonna get, String?" Cait asked.
"Oh, probably the fish platter," Hawke admitted. "How about you?"
"Geez, I'm starving," she said. "I'm probably gonna get the baby back ribs with fries, and—ooh—Death by Chocolate for dessert," she said.
Hawke's first thought, which he was fortunately able to keep to himself, was How the hell can you eat like that, and still have such an amazing body, Caitlin? Even the Airwolf flight suit looks—looks great on you. He forced himself not to imagine Caitlin in the tightly-tailored flight suit. Or, demurely stepping out of the tightly-tailored flight suit. Not wanting to say that, or much of anything for that matter, Hawke mumbled, "Sounds good."
While they waited for dinner, their conversation was easy...the goings-on at the hangar, Dom's love life, or lack thereof, and other "safe" topics. Hawke knew he wouldn't bring Airwolf up, especially in a public place like this, and at the same time he worried that Caitlin would start talking about seeing him as "more than just a friend" again, as she'd been doing more of lately. Dominic had told him how she had said, "I care about him too, you know. Probably more than you know," before she and Dom had set out to rescue Hawke from Horn a few weeks prior. That statement had set warning bells off in Hawke's head, and he began wondering if accepting Caitlin's invitation had been such a great idea. I could really end up regretting this, especially if Caitlin figures out why I've been wearing my shirts out lately.
Then, Hawke heard another voice in his head—a voice he'd been trying to silence permanently, but which had been bothering him a lot over the course of the past month and five days. String, you know she's good for you, the voice was saying. And...it could be the beginning of something wonderful, and beautiful.
Will you shut up? String quietly demanded of the voice in his head.
When the waiter brought their meals, Caitlin was genuinely shocked at the platter she received.
"Wow!" she exclaimed after the waiter departed. "Look at my rack! Have you ever seen a great-looking rack like this?"
Hawke choked on his water, but quickly recovered and said, "Um, no. I haven't." Even though he was looking at his plate, his mind was drifting again...and there was completely another "rack" on his mind. We have got to discuss your choice of words, Caitlin, Hawke grumbled to himself as he began eating.
Fortunately for Hawke, Caitlin's mouth and hands were quickly occupied by the food in front of her, sparing him any further embarrassment from saying something that would undoubtedly result in him getting a fat lip—or worse—from his co-worker.
Caitlin, you would kick my ass if you knew what I was thinking right now. And, Hawke knew she could kick his ass, because she'd done it once before, during his rescue from Horn, when Hawke had been brainwashed and Caitlin had come to find him. He had attacked her, but she had fought back and bested him, before injecting him with an experimental antidote serum. I had a bruise for two weeks after that from where she kicked me, Hawke mused.
Then, the voice he'd heard earlier began sounding in Hawke's head again, trying to tell him that since Caitlin could kick his ass (which he already knew she could), she was more than capable of defending herself. So maybe, the voice was saying, you could give her a chance? Just to shut the voice up, Hawke promised himself he would seriously think about what it was trying to tell him. And that is a very good point.
"So. Got any plans for the weekend?" Cait asked. Hawke had been so preoccupied with work and other things that he'd forgotten it was Friday.
"Oh, the usual. Some fishing, reading, playing my cello; and exercising Tet, of course. Nothing big. You?"
"After I get a few errands run, probably just a long one on one relationship with my bed," Caitlin replied, and her eyes sparkled for some reason.
Bed. Caitlin's bed. Caitlin in her bed in pyjamas, or a negligee—or nothing at all—and, STOP THAT! Hawke grumbled to himself as he finished his dinner, thankful for the large tablecloth that was preventing Caitlin from seeing his arousal.
"Hawke? You okay?" Cait asked, concerned.
"Nah. Yeah," Hawke said as he choked on his water again, not sure which he meant.
"Long as you're okay," Caitlin said and patted his arm. "You haven't been yourself lately, especially around me. And, I'm worried about you."
Hawke was relieved when the waiter returned with Caitlin's dessert, a mountainous concoction of anything chocolate, covered in more hot fudge and whipped cream than he'd ever seen in his life. That thought alone sent his mind wandering again, and he had to admit that the visions he experienced were by no means unpleasant, considering they involved very creative uses for the whipped cream and chocolate fudge in certain areas on Caitlin's naked—STOP THAT! Hawke grumbled silently again, and he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.
"String?" Caitlin asked him again, now becoming more than concerned.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Cait," Hawke mumbled, wishing he'd never accepted this invitation, "just zoned out again. I feel bad. Here you're being so nice to me, and I'm being lousy company." Mainly because of things that I've been thinking about you, he said to himself, then added, and the fact that you would probably kick my ass if you knew what I've been thinking.
But, String, the positive voice was back again. Maybe she wouldn't kick your ass, because maybe—just maybe—what you're thinking is exactly what Caitlin wants you to do. There's only one way you're gonna know, Hawke. That is, if you've got the guts. That thought really made Hawke angry, but at the same time, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that the voice just might be right. There would be only one way to find out.
"You haven't been yourself lately," Caitlin said, ignoring the fact that she was repeating herself, "and I'm worried about you, Hawke. So, I tell you what. Let me finish this—as much as I can—and then I'll take you back to my place and see if I can figure out what's bugging you. Okay?"
"Okay," he mumbled, knowing that being alone with Caitlin, in her apartment, was probably the worst thing that could happen. Just then, as he watched her raise another spoonful of the chocolate and cream concoction to her lips, she said, "Hey, you want some?"
YES! Hawke's mind screamed, but he knew he was thinking about something other than Caitlin's dessert. "Sure," he mumbled, and helped Caitlin finish off her dessert. Then another thought ran through Hawke's mind. Going to Cait's apartment is a very bad idea. But, he also knew that if he refused, Caitlin would no doubt begin pushing again, so he relented. As they left after paying the bill, Caitlin shivered in the cool night air. Hawke noticed this and began removing his bomber jacket, but Caitlin shook her head and said, "That's okay, Hawke," as she squeezed herself against him, "I'll just get closer to you." She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned into him.
"Better?" Hawke asked as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, even though now he was the uncomfortable one, even as he tried to stop thinking about how perfectly natural it felt to have his arm around Caitlin, and for her arm to be around him. He also couldn't help but notice how perfectly Caitlin fit against his body, and that thought alone made him more uncomfortable, both emotionally and physically.
"Yeah," Caitlin murmured, smiling. Fortunately, the walk back to the Jeep was a short one, and soon, they were on their way to Cait's apartment.
As they walked up the stairs, Hawke had decided to slip his jacket off anyway, and Caitlin, following him a few steps behind, decided to ask Hawke about something that had been bugging her lately.
"Hawke? Why are you wearing your shirts untucked lately?" Thirty-five days, to be exact, but Cait wasn't about to let Hawke know she'd been counting. Counting, and looking. Come to think of it, he started wearing his shirts untucked about the same time I started wearing these tighter jeans. But that's just a coincidence, isn't it?
"Oh, Le said something about it being a fashion statement," Hawke lied as they reached the top of the stairs and he allowed Caitlin to catch up to him. I suppose I could ask you why your jeans are fitting tighter these past thirty-five days, Cait. But I won't. Wouldn't want you to know I've been counting, and looking, Hawke mused as Caitlin caught up to him.
"Huh. Well, at least he's not interested in what's under there," Caitlin said, and sheepishly smiled as she thought of the denim covered butt that she loved, that was now more hidden from her eyes by the additional hanging material of Hawke's shirt. She was shocked at the intensity of her desire to see Hawke's butt, and more, up close, and once again didn't realize what she'd said until it was too late.
"What?" Hawke nearly shouted. Caitlin suddenly realized what she'd said. For his part, Hawke was reminded of something Dom had told him and Saint John when they were kids—"Do not operate mouth unless brain is engaged." And obviously, Hawke said to himself as they neared Caitlin's door, Cait's brain hasn't been engaged all day. Which means, she shouldn't be running her mouth the way she has been.
"Um, nothing," Cait stammered, knowing her face was bright red. They walked a few more steps and Caitlin opened the apartment door and turned the lights on.
"Make yourself comfortable, String. I'm gonna get us some water, and then maybe I'll see if I can figure out what's bugging you," she said, heading into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she came back with two glasses of ice water, handing one to Hawke, then sitting down next to Hawke. She frowned inwardly when Hawke moved away from her, leaving them at opposite ends of the couch.
Well. This is not what I intended at all. She tried to hide her disgust at sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, feeling like a teenager on her first date again. Finally, she turned to him and said, "Hawke? Have I done something to upset you? Not just tonight, but any time?"
"No, Cait," Hawke said, turning to look at her, and once again noticing, and admiring, the shape of her legs in her tight jeans, even though he knew it would only increase his physical discomfort. "I've...I've just had a lot on my mind, that's all." Most of it concerning you. If it wasn't for this damned curse...he stopped and considered the situation. Caitlin's life had already been threatened numerous times since she'd known Hawke, and she'd survived each one, mostly with Hawke's help. Could she have survived all of them—especially Sawyer, or the hijacking—without you? The voice was back again, and Hawke found himself, against his better judgment, again admitting that it did have a point. Especially with Sawyer. Cait would be dead now if we hadn't been there so that Airwolf could disarm that bomb. Not to mention when her plane got hijacked. Hawke tried to shut that memory out of his head, but the voice continued. If you hadn't hightailed it out of the hangar and gotten Airwolf, Caitlin, and the rest of the passengers and crew on that plane, would all be dead now. Once again, Hawke grudgingly acknowledged the accuracy of the thoughts running through his mind, and promised himself he'd at least think about what the voice was trying to tell him. But, it wouldn't shut up. And, think about this, Hawke, the voice continued. As worried as you are about Cait getting killed if she got involved with you, wouldn't it be worse if you lost her to another man? Wouldn't it hurt just as much, knowing that Cait was with somebody else, when she could be with you all the time?
Hawke had to admit that this time, the voice was exactly right. And, he knew Caitlin O'Shannessy was a beautiful, desirable woman. Hell, the evidence of that...Hawke had to stop himself before he thought, again, of the erection that was throbbing in his pants. He'd seen the way other men had looked at her, and even though he'd never admit it, except maybe to Dom, those looks made Hawke very uncomfortable. Even, he had to admit, to the point of being jealous. Well, Hawke, the voice came back. What are you gonna do? He sighed quietly and admitted to himself, I wish to hell I knew.
I wish I was what's on your mind, Hawke, like you've been on mine, Caitlin thought sadly. She'd only started wearing the tighter, darker, and softer blue jeans recently to try to get his attention, as she was desperate for him to make some kind—any kind—of move on her. Caitlin had decided long ago that Hawke was the only man she wanted to make a move on her, and the only man she'd let make a move on her after Sawyer. She just wasn't sure how much longer she wanted to wait for him. If he doesn't make a move soon, I may just have to take matters into my own hands, she said to herself. Caitlin finally realized the silence was more than she could take, and she said, "Okay, so I'm not ready to call it a night yet, since it's Friday and we don't have anything to do for the next two days. So maybe I'll find a video tape for us to watch." She stood up and walked over to the video tape cabinet and began glancing through the titles there, seductively swaying her hips from side to side as she did so, the lyrics of an Olivia Newton-John song she'd heard on the radio driving into work running through her head. Come on, baby! Make a move on me! I can only wish, Caitlin said to herself with a quiet sigh.
An adventure movie might be just the thing to occupy Hawke's mind, Caitlin thought, but if she wanted him to make some sort of move on her—which she did—it might not be a good idea. Romantic comedy was out—too obvious—and drama—with their second job, they had more than enough drama in their lives, so that was out, too. Finally, she said, "I can't think of anything to watch, String. You got any ideas?"
"Oh, I dunno," Hawke said, shaking his head when he realized he could perfectly see Caitlin's rear end, encased in those tight jeans she'd taken to wearing, and the slight side-to-side motion of her hips was driving him insane, even if Cait was completely unaware of it.
"I really shouldn't be so hard on you, String," Caitlin said, oblivious to the double entendre in what she'd just said. Hawke, however, was aware—painfully aware—of the double meaning of her words, and made every effort to conceal the betrayal of his body. Hard on. Yeah, Cait. That about describes it. Caitlin was saying something else, but Hawke was so absorbed in his own thoughts, he didn't hear anything until the very end of her sentence... "You can't keep it up, Hawke."
Good grief. How many bad puns can one woman make? Hawke asked himself, still trying to conceal the reason he was so uncomfortable, while at the same time thinking to himself, As long as you're standing in front of me, wearing those jeans and that perfume, and moving like that, Caitlin, keeping "it" up is not going to be a problem. Finally, he stood up, thinking maybe if he walked around a little bit, he could ease some of the discomfort he was feeling, not to mention getting Caitlin's sexy behind out of his vision. Caitlin, meanwhile, had picked up a copy of Brian's Song from her cabinet and was just turning around when she smacked into Hawke, which knocked him completely off-balance and sent them both crashing to the floor. Caitlin was able to cushion her impact, mostly with Hawke's body, but Hawke's head all but bounced off the hard floor, the carpeting providing little protection. "Oh, no!" Caitlin yelled. "Hawke? Hawke, talk to me! Are you okay?"
Due to the fact that his head was buzzing and he'd had the wind knocked out of him when Caitlin landed on him, Hawke couldn't respond for a moment. Finally, he muttered "Yeah," not wanting to move for more than one reason. "Yeah, Cait. I'm fine," he lied. Well, it's not exactly a lie, Hawke told himself. He was fine, except for—he decided he'd rather not think about that right now, especially with Caitlin laying across his upper half. If she moves about five inches, she'll realize why I've been wearing my shirt tails out lately. Hawke was horrified when he felt her body begin to move, and suddenly, the look on her face told him that she had inadvertently exposed (this time I'm the one making the bad choice of words, Hawke later admonished himself) his secret.
When Caitlin moved and felt Hawke's erection as it pressed into her, her face turned bright red—brighter than Hawke could ever recall seeing it. At the same time, she felt the area between her legs, where she'd felt Hawke against her, growing hot and wet. For his part, Hawke hoped his own embarrassment wasn't too obvious, but Caitlin simply smiled and said, "Hawke, it's okay. These things happen. Are you sure you're all right? I mean other than..." She didn't want to say anything else, for fear of embarrassing herself even more than she already had with him.
"Yeah," Hawke grumbled, wishing he could get up, but not wanting to disturb the situation.
"Well, I heard somewhere that things...like this," she stammered, not exactly sure what she was going to say, "can happen with spinal injuries. Maybe...maybe I better call..."
"No, Cait...I'm fine," Hawke said, and shook his head to demonstrate it, both to her and to himself, then wiggled his fingers. "See? No spinal injury. Everything still works. No harm done, except for a headache. So you can stop worrying," he smiled at her, not wanting to admit the other ache he felt, even though she already knew about it. He also knew that his present difficulty had started long before Caitlin dropped him on his ass just then.
But I like worrying about you, Hawke. Caitlin admitted to herself. "Well, come on," Caitlin said out loud, moving to get off him, but stopping when she felt him beneath her. "This floor's gotta be hard on—Oops. I did it again, didn't I?" She looked away from him, embarrassed.
"You coulda found another way to phrase it, Cait," Hawke said, grinning, hoping that his grin would hide the discomfort he suddenly felt when Caitlin's wet heat pressed against his hard bulge.
"Yeah, I guess so," she said, and grinned back at him. "Well, come on. Let me help you get off..." Oh, geez, she said to herself. I really stuck my foot in my mouth with that one.
Hawke grimaced, both at Caitlin's unintentional puns and the feelings he was experiencing. "Cait, we really need to talk about your choice of words," he said, and shook his head again. Caitlin climbed awkwardly off him and stood up, holding out her hand. Hawke took it and pulled himself up as she asked, "Now, are you sure you're all right?"
"I think—I think I bruised my coccyx," String said, remembering something that Saint John had told him Le had said as an excuse to try to get out of gym class last month. String then added with a grimace, "And my neck's getting stiff."
"Your neck's getting stiff, huh? Well, I think we'll just have to work on that," Caitlin said, leading him back over to the couch, "Why don't you sit down here, and I'll go get an ice pack for your coc—cyx," she said, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing, as she realized she'd made yet another bad choice of words, while at the same time thinking about Hawke's "six," which, in MY opinion, is a "10," Caitlin said to herself, then she realized what she'd just thought, along with what she'd said earlier. But, I was just echoing what Hawke said, she reminded herself, so he can't completely blame me for that one. But I'll bet he'll try to. She tried to fight down the feelings that she was suddenly experiencing, but could not ignore the moist warmth that emanated from her very core. God, I want you, Hawke, she said to herself desperately. And if what I felt a few minutes ago is any indication, I think you want me, too. Well, if you want me, String, I mean—really want me—then you can take me. All of me, she decided, then added to herself, like that song says—'Won't you spare me all the charms and just take me in your arms?' Well, she sighed quietly, I can always dream.
"I think I'm all right, Cait," Hawke answered her as he limped over to the couch and sat down, gingerly.
"Well," she said, at least let me get you a couple of aspirin, and some water," and she dashed back into the kitchen. In the short time she was gone, Hawke realized something—She's as attractive from the back as she is from the front. Her "six" is—STOP THAT! He forced himself to pull his mind back out of the gutter when, a few seconds later, Caitlin reappeared, glass of water and two aspirins in hand, but minus the light blue overshirt she'd worn most of the day, revealing a tight, pale blue tank top.
"Here ya go," Caitlin said as she sat down and handed the aspirins, along with the glass of water, to Hawke, even as she noticed his expression. "Sorry. Dripped some water on my shirt back there, so I figured I'd just take it off. You don't mind, do you?"
"Nah," Hawke said, trying to avert his eyes from Caitlin's chest, which was heaving under the tight blue fabric. "I—don't mind." Damn, Hawke said to himself. Her chest is just as beautiful as the rest of her—STOP THAT! He thought to himself as he took the water and aspirins from Cait. When he was finished, after swallowing the aspirins, he handed the glass back to Caitlin at the same time she moved towards him, which caused the glass to tip in her hands, and spill the remainder of the water over her breasts.
As he watched the damp patch spread across her chest, Hawke muttered, "Oh, fuck me."
Caitlin couldn't believe her ears. That had to have been the worst thing she'd ever heard Stringfellow Hawke say, but she couldn't deny the feelings it had provoked, as she felt the region between her legs grow hot and wet again. Hawke, for his part, was having a very difficult time averting his eyes from Caitlin's damp chest, but when he finally did, he found her studying him intently.
"What?" Hawke grumbled, wishing he could just get the hell out of there and go home, especially after he realized what he had just said. Oh, swell. I hope—well—maybe I don't. After all, I said it. Once he realized exactly what he'd said, Hawke could only imagine the thoughts running through Caitlin's head.
"Was—was that an invitation?" Caitlin stammered, her eyes jumping from his eyes to his lips, and then further south, even as she tried to calm both the voice in her mind and other feelings and desires she was feeling, some for the first time in a long time. Boy, now I'm glad I took that shirt off, because it is getting warm in here. Of course, she knew where the heat was coming from, and she prayed Hawke would understand how much she wanted him.
"Was what—oh—that,"Hawke said, his brain finally catching up with what his mouth had said. He hesitated at first, then decided. He smiled and slowly nodded. "I—guess it was—if you wanted it to be." He ignored the warning signals his brain was shouting at him. He had secretly wanted Caitlin—all of Caitlin—for a very long time, but had always been afraid because of the curse. But you know she could kick your ass, the voice started up again. Doesn't that mean anything to you? He had to admit, grudgingly, that it did. I have to admit something else, too. I love this woman. I have loved Cait for a long time. I've just been so wrapped up in my own self pity, or whatever you wanna call it, that I've been ignoring the obvious. He wondered what her opinion would be if he told her what he felt. Well...there's only one way to find out, Hawke, the voice was saying.
"Oh, I want it to be," Caitlin purred, running her hand along his thigh, "but—only if you're—up for it," she grinned, the double entendre in her words totally obvious to her this time, especially since she'd "wanted it to be," and wanted Hawke, for a long time. Now, it appeared she might finally be getting her wish. Hell, Hawke can take me right now, right here, if he decides that's what he wants to do. Although my bed would be more comfortable, Caitlin said to herself, trying to rein her emotions in, but encouraged by what she saw, and what she'd felt, a few moments ago. She just hoped that Hawke would understand how much she wanted him. And I just hope he wants me the same way.
"Oh, I'm definitely up for it," Hawke grinned as he realized just how fast he'd reacted to her. He hadn't responded to a member of the opposite sex that quickly in a long time, except for the past few weeks.
When he realized where the conversation was headed, Hawke suddenly felt the need to pull the handbrake, even if only temporarily. There was one detail Hawke needed to know. "Cait," he said, trying to slow the movement of her hands, "if this isn't what you want, you tell me. You tell me, right now. 'Cause once we do this, there's no going back."
"String," Caitlin responded, a sultry look coming into her eyes, "this is what I want. I want you. And," she whispered, knowing she had to say what was in her heart, "I love you, String."
I guess that answers my question, Hawke said to himself. Well, there's only one way I can answer her. "I—I love you, too, Caitlin," Hawke replied, and felt Caitlin's hands begin moving even faster.
When she lifted up Hawke's shirt and glanced underneath, Caitlin giggled. "Fashion statement, my ass," she said, laughing.
"Oh, now we're gonna talk about your ass, are we?" Hawke grinned back at her as he took her in his arms and pulled her body close to his. Funny, but my butt doesn't even hurt anymore, he said to himself, even as Caitlin's body pressed close to his, pushing him further back into the couch.
"Well," Caitlin said as she pulled herself up to reach Hawke's lips, "We can—talk about that later," she whispered, just before taking his lips with her own.
And they did talk about it "later." Much, much later.