Here we go again folks – the start of another story where I have no real idea of the outcome, nor the amount of chapters (not a disciplined writer me!) The idea just popped into my head, it amused me, so I started typing……PLEEEZZZ let me know how you feel about this one……

Note: Still don't Lie to Me or any part thereof….

The Mistake

Cal had just managed to manoeuvre himself out of the arms of the woman in his bed without waking her.

Now he stood by the doorway just staring at her curves and sensuous skin coiled in the bed sheets.

Her face was relaxed with just the slightest hint of a smile, it was rare, her features were normally tense with concentration, or anxiety, or both.

He kinda liked it, she looked younger and more vulnerable.

Mentally slapping himself in the face he slid through the doorway silently.

Sitting over a large mug of very strong black coffee, cal was still trying to work out how he could possibly get himself out of this bloody mess.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiotic, arse. He had seen this coming why hadn't he stopped it.

PLONKER!

He added a couple of painkillers to his breakfast.

Of course the alcohol hadn't helped – did it ever?

He had been fairly plastered – her more so, but by the time they had left the last bar and made their way back to his house, he had sobered up a little, more than enough to know what was progressing should have been stopped.

So why the hell hadn't he?

He had vague memories of the two arguments he had had earlier that day.

The first had been with Zoe, (Christ would that woman never stop pushing his buttons) whilst being used to them by now, it was enough to put him in the mood for another.

The next person that walked into his office had been Gillian.

Thanks to his skilful manipulation of the conversation he managed to engage her into yet another argument.

He spent the rest of the day stalking the corridors and labs biting off the heads of anyone that had come near him.

Loker and Torres had caught most of it. Loker, being more used to this scenario kept his head down and any retorts he might have come up with stayed in his head.

Torres however, being newer, and certainly more hot- headed, threw the occasional verbal missile back at him. He made sure she regretted each and every one.

Foster had had the good sense to stay in her office for the most part.

All this had inevitably led him out to the bars come close of business seeing as he did not have Emily with him that night.

At the second (or was it the third..) bar he entered he was quite shocked, and a little pissed to find her already there.

The verbal sparring from earlier in the day continued until they were both asked to leave.

Being thrown out of a bar made them both start howling with laughter. The fight was over as arm in arm they sought out their next watering hole.

By the time they mutually decided to call it a night, alcohol had already taken its toll. After flirting outrageously with each other she had somehow managed to convince him to dance with her.

It had resulted in a heel breaking off her shoe, which then resulted in another bout of hysterics.

The alcohol and the loss of a heel then substantially interfered with her balance resulting in him having to carry her to a waiting cab, and then virtually falling on top of her trying to get them both into the back seat.

After spitting out his address they both started frantically kissing, (although with further thought it was more like 'eating') each other.

Their hands were tearing at the obstacle their respective clothing created.

He remembered how silky her skin felt, how her tongue had felt so hot when it found his nipples, the low groan she made when he found hers.

There were few clothes left by the time they had dragged each other up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Dragging himself out of his memories and mentally slapping himself round the face a few times again, he made his way over to the kettle to set up his second coffee wondering how long he had before she woke and he would have to face her in the cold light of day.

What a prize prick – he again mentally insulted himself.

I could have stopped this, should have stopped this, but the bridge had been crossed and most definitely burnt.

THIS time he had absolutely stepped over a line!

Bloody Foster, she had to take at least some of the blame for this, if she hadn't…..

His silent tirade was interrupted by the sound of tentative steps coming down the stairs.

OH GOD!

Time to face the music, he grabbed another mug and started to pour coffee into the two. He also laid out more painkillers guessing that she was gonna need them as much as – if not more than, him.

Turning away from the counter her met the embarrassed/confused face that he had left less than half an hour ago.

Who would be the first to break the awkward silence…..?

"I see you managed to help yourself to one of my t shirts, morning by the way, heres your coffee, oh don't just stand there looking at me like that, sit down and drink your coffee"

"I errm, sorry 'bout the t shirt, an..thanx – for the coffee"

"I said stop hovering and SIT DOWN TORRES"……..