The Curse of the Rangeman Skivvies

By Christie

A/N: This is a challenge from another group. Take a scene from LMT and write a spin on it. At the end of LMT there was a scene with Steph having her underwear embroidered with Ranger's name on them. I just got a little creative with it.

Rating: Like everything I write, it's rated R! for language.

PS. Don't tattle on me. I needed a break. lol. I see you Stace rolling your eyes. Stop cracking my whip!

Disclaimer: The most wonderful and fantabulous JE owns everything. Very sad about her owning Ranger. I have plans for him.

Morelli took a look draw off his third beer. His eyes were firmly fixed on the game in front of him. The Ranger's scored and he didn't even move.

This wasn't good.

"I think this makes us even." I chugged half my beer and prayed for the liquid courage to kick in. I say, beer was the best thing ever invented by a man. Especially at times like these. "It's not like I asked for them."

Morelli drained the rest of his beer and reached across the coffee table to pull another beer from the case. His dark eyes narrowed even further. I didn't even know that was possible, but I wasn't about to question it either.

"How does this make us even, Stephanie? You think I go around Trenton buying other women underwear? For crissakes, I don't even buy you underwear." He twisted the bottle cap off the new beer and drained half of it in one gulp. "I can't fucking believe that I saw that. His name on your underwear. I bet you like wearing them too..." Before I could even defend myself, I heard the muttered, "Jesus, Steph!"

I sat my beer down so I wouldn't be tempted to bash Morelli over the head with it.

"It's not like he waltzed into Victoria's Secret and bought me a pair of underwear!" God, I hope not. Plain jane black cotton bikinis didn't seem like Ranger's style. He was more of a black lace and satin sheets... Hot flash. "It's a pair of underwear, Morelli. Get over it already."

"They've got his name all over them." I raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. "I don't give a shit if they only have his name on them once. I don't care how small it is either. It's his fucking name on your underwear. You know he did it to piss me off."

I gave Morelli a look that would melt dry ice.

"Listen. I mean really listen because I don't think letting this go in one ear and out the other really qualifies as listening. HE. DIDN'T. PUT. HIS. NAME. ON. MY. UNDERWEAR!!! How many times do I have to tell you? Ella did it with her new machine. Ranger didn't go down there and do it himself. Can you see Ranger skipping down to a machine and going, "Hm. I wonder what color I should use to embroider my name on Steph's underwear? What color would really piss off Morelli? Hot pink. Hm. Sounds like a winner to me?" I mean, fuck, Morelli. He's got better things to do than fuck around with a pair of underwear. You remind me a teenager with all your pouting."

"Why are you defending him?" Morelli said, sliding a look over at me. "I mean, really, Steph. You bounce back and forth between us. You know it drives me crazy. You know he's a crazy motherfucker. Yet you still hang out with him. I just don't get it. If you have to do this stupid job for your cousin, then do it. But stop hanging out with Ranger. He only gets you into more trouble."

I jumped up off the couch, "What? Are you my mother now? You telling me who I can and can't hang out with? As a matter of fact, Morelli, the last bit of trouble I was in was orchestrated by you! If you would've just told me that rat bastard Dickie was still alive I wouldn't have been out there trying to clear my name!"

"I was hoping that it would knock some sense into that hard head of yours."

I drained the rest of my beer. Liquid courage be damned. "My hard head? What about yours?! I've been trying to tell you for the past two hours that Ranger didn't put his name on my lousy cotton underwear! You'd think by the way you're carrying on that I had his name tattooed on my ass with a heart."

"Might as well."

"Excuse me?"

Morelli stood up, "You heard me."

"I see. So I can't work with a man for you getting jealous and macho about it. But you can go on a stakeout with Terry-fucking-Gilman with her in a goddamned silk nightgown and I'm just supposed to look the other fucking way!"

"It was for my job!"

"Well fuck your job and you too, Morelli. I'm outta here." I grabbed my purse and walked out the door, Morelli close on my heels.

"Don't expect me to call you and beg you to come back!"

"Don't expect me to roll over and beg for you to take me back either!"

I turned around and gave him the finger. "When you pull your head out of your ass, Morelli, don't expect me to come crawling back to you. I've had it with your shit."

"Grow up, Stephanie!"

"Up yours, Morelli!"

Morelli slammed the door and I looked around the street.

Damnit! I didn't have a fucking car!

Shit.

I heaved a frustrated sigh.

I had only one option.

I pulled out my cell phone and hit 1.

"It's me. Can you pick me up?"

His deep voice rumbled as he laughed. Bastard.

"I'm right around the corner."

"I'm not even going to ask why." I flipped the cell phone closed, and watched as he pulled around the corner and up to the curb. He rolled the window down.

"What did I tell you about fighting?"

I yanked open the door and climbed into the Cayenne. "It's good for blood circulation?"

He laughed and I shot him a look.

"Just drive, funny man."

Ranger took my hand in his and kissed the underside of my wrist, "Anything for you, babe."