Notes: Mari and Sammy – Thank you for the outstanding feedback as always. You two are the best in more ways than I can name.
Readers and REAL McRollers – Thank you for your continued support. I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up with review responses, but please know every word is very much appreciated!
If you haven't already, please see Mari's fabulous story Rematch to read the impetus for the . . . unconventional cooking in the first scene. :-)
Hope you enjoy!
Button-Down (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)
Steve came in the front door Tuesday evening and knelt to greet Cammie who wagged her tail happily at his arrival. He scratched her ears and looked around.
"Cath?" he called out.
"In the kitchen," she answered.
He straightened and glanced at the large window above the sofa as he dropped his keys on the end table. "Why are the drapes closed?" he asked, turning to lock the door.
"I'm getting ready to cook."
He paused, still facing the door, a confused expression on his face. "Wh–"
"Pancakes."
His head whipped around at the suggestive tone, and he turned to see Catherine standing in the kitchen doorway wearing an apron and nothing else.
He licked his lips at his suddenly dry mouth, and a slow smile spread across his face.
"We doing this tonight?" he asked eagerly.
She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling. "I had a . . . craving."
He grinned and quickly turned to finish locking the door.
"Is that so?" he asked when he turned back and bent to remove his boots.
"And never let it be said I don't make good on my bets."
"What's with the apron?" he asked, raising his gaze and letting his eyes drift over her. "I don't recall that being part of my prize."
Her answering grin was saucy. "Just waiting for you, sailor."
She reached up slowly to untie the knot behind her neck.
He finished kicking off his boots and crossed the living room in a few long strides. "Oh, please . . . allow me."
Kissing her hungrily, he brushed her hair over her shoulders and ran his hands down the bare skin of her back. He reached the loose knot at the base of her spine and pulled the ends slowly, in contrast to the heated kiss.
She finished with the top knot, and he tossed the apron in the direction of the table behind her. His fingers splayed over her hips as his lips moved down her neck.
"Mmm," she moaned and started on the buttons of his shirt. "Now, as I recall . . . it wasn't just me who was supposed to be naked here . . ."
She lifted her hands to his collar to pull the shirt down over his shoulders, but stopped when her fingertips brushed over the seams at the arm.
"Hey . . ." she started.
"What?" he murmured against her collarbone.
"This seam is coming loose."
He raised his head to glance over his shoulder where she indicated.
"Huh," he grunted, unconcerned.
He released her only long enough to pull the shirt off and drop it behind him before sliding his hands back around her waist and dipping his head to kiss her again.
Leaving her lips, he pressed hot kisses to her neck and pulled her closer.
"That's the second one this month," she observed even as she tilted her chin up to give his lips more room and threaded her fingers through his hair.
He didn't reply, instead continuing to kiss her now flushed skin.
She gasped, but managed to add, "And another got torn taking down that robbery suspect before Halloween."
He straightened and shrugged, his breathing slightly uneven. "Yeah, I could probably use a few new ones." He quirked an eyebrow. "We really talking about my wardrobe right now?"
Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she smiled and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, pushing it up and off. "Not anymore."
He grinned, returning his hands to her waist and running them up and down her sides. "Good." His voice dropped an octave. "Now where were we . . .?"
"About to make pancakes," she said, undoing his belt.
He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
She chuckled and said, "Oh, we're making pancakes." She looked up at him with a gleam in her eyes. "I've got plans for the syrup."
He shucked his pants and boxer briefs in one motion and matched her expression.
"Then we better get cooking."
Later that night, Steve returned to the bedroom after taking Cammie out for the last time. Catherine, wearing his button-down shirt, was stretching a clean fitted sheet over their mattress.
"I threw the sheets in the wash," she said, glancing over at him. Her eyes twinkled. "They were a little . . . syrupy."
He grinned, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.
"That just might be my new favorite syrup," he said.
She grinned back. "Let's hope it comes off the sheets easier than chocolate."
As she straightened and turned toward him, a memory flashed into his mind of the first time he had seen her similarly clad.
Steve came out of the bathroom in the hotel room adjusting the waistband of his boxers and saw Catherine standing at the end of the bed in his button-down, finishing up the bottom buttons.
He stopped, taken by the sight.
She gestured to the shirt. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all." He leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, his eyes traveling down her bare legs and back up. "I think it looks better on you."
She shifted under his gaze, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows, and when she looked up, his eyes were still on her.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Looking at you," he said simply. He took a slow breath. "It's . . . new."
She smiled, her nose scrunching up. "You've looked at me before."
He shook his head. "Not like this. Not after . . ." His voice trailed off, and his eyes drifted to the unmade bed beside her.
She followed his eyes, then turned back and took a step toward him. "After . . ."
Meeting her heated gaze, he pushed off the doorframe and met her in the middle of the small room. She'd left the top three buttons of the shirt undone, and he raised a hand to lightly trace the skin there.
As his finger dipped between her breasts, her mouth opened in a slight gasp, and his eyes darted to her lips. Raising his eyes to hers, he asked, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking . . ." She licked her lips slowly and smiled. "I'm thinking I shouldn't have bothered putting this shirt on."
His mouth twitched in a smile. "Oh, I don't know," he said, slipping the next button on the shirt open. "Maybe not one of your more practical ideas . . ." He undid another button and slowly knelt in front of her. "But that doesn't mean . . ." He leaned in as he opened another button and pressed his lips to her stomach. "It wasn't a good one."
He finished the last button and pushed the two sides of the shirt apart. She gasped audibly when his hands moved around her hips and lower, and she ran her fingers through his hair, his name falling from her lips as he pressed heated kisses to her skin.
From his knees, he guided her back two steps and down onto the bed. She lay back, the sides of the shirt falling farther open, and her eyes drifted closed.
"Definitely a good one," she said, her voice a breathy whisper, and he hummed his complete agreement against the inside of her thigh.
Back in the present, Steve stepped toward Catherine, nodding at the shirt. "I remember the first time I saw you like this."
She smiled knowingly. "That was a night with a lot of firsts."
He nodded slowly, his eyes on her.
"They still look better on you," he said, stepping in front of her and tracing the skin visible between the open buttons at the top.
She cocked an eyebrow and ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders. "Oh, I don't know, Commander. You cut a pretty nice figure in a button-down."
"One big difference," he said, maneuvering her over to the wall.
"You wear pants with yours?"
He chuckled. "Okay, two big differences. I wear pants, and I also wear the shirts all day. While you . . ." He ran a hand up the back of her thigh as he hitched her leg over his hip and groaned when he confirmed she had nothing else on. "Don't wear anything underneath . . . and when you wear them . . ." He leaned closer. "They never stay on very long."
She grinned, and he caught her lips in a passionate kiss.
"I need to . . . mmm . . ." she tried to speak between kisses. "Finish making the . . . ooh . . . bed."
"Uh uh," he said and lifted her easily.
"No?" she asked, even as she wrapped her legs around him.
He started across the room. "Somethin' else needs your attention, Lieutenant."
"In the bathroom?"
"Uh huh. Specifically, in the shower." He groaned as she pressed herself tighter against him. "Or we might not make it that far."
"We already took a shower," she pointed out, fighting a grin.
"I don't think we were as . . . thorough as we should have been."
Pressing her against the wall in the bathroom, he began quickly plucking at the buttons on the shirt.
She smirked, watching him. "Be careful with those buttons, Commander. You don't want to have to sew them back on."
"I'm very dextrous," he said. He looked up at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "With a needle."
"Oh, I know exactly how dextrous you are. With or without a needle."
He grinned and pressed his lips to her jaw.
"But we don't want Cammie to find them," she said, combing her fingers through his hair.
He nodded against her, and his fingers slowed. He opened the final button and smiled at her, pushing the shirt off her shoulders.
"Still a good idea."
The next evening, Steve, Catherine, and Danny walked out to the parking lot at Iolani Palace after work.
"Say hi to Carrie for me," Steve said to Catherine as they neared her Corvette.
He put a hand on her lower back, and she turned to him and smiled.
"I will," she said. "Dinner and drinks, but we shouldn't be too late."
"Okay." His lip quirked in a half smile. "If you're hungry after maybe we could uh . . . make some pancakes."
Her eyes danced in amusement. "I'll try to save room."
They held each other's gazes, fighting full-blown grins.
Danny looked between them. "Do I want to know?"
"No," Steve and Catherine answered simultaneously, smiling at each other.
Danny held up his hands and chuckled. "Enough said."
"Have a good time," Steve said sincerely.
Catherine smiled. "Thanks."
He bent to kiss her briefly. "See you at home."
"Yep." She looked over at Danny and said, "Night, Danny."
"Night, Cath."
The two men watched her get in her Corvette and drive off with a wave.
"Okay," Steve said, stepping toward his truck. "I'll see you in the morning."
"What are you doing tonight?" Danny asked.
Steve stopped and glanced back at him, shrugging. "Got some errands."
"You want company?"
Steve paused for a beat. "Not really."
"You sure? I'm free."
Steve looked at him, confused. "What is this?"
Danny shrugged. "I don't know . . . the house in empty. Grace is with Rachel, Gabby's on the mainland for the week."
"So enjoy some time alone. It is possible."
"I know it's possible, I'm just making a suggestion." He folded his arms. "What? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"
Steve rolled his eyes. "Well, at least you're not wearing a sweater vest tonight."
Danny pointed. "That was a Halloween costume and you know it." He gestured toward their vehicles. "Come on, we can grab a beer after. Get some wings at Side Street."
Steve sighed. "Fine, fine," he said, heading for his truck. "Meet me at the mall."
"The mall?" Danny asked, surprised.
Receiving no response from his partner, Danny shook his head and headed for the Camaro.
After selecting a third button-down from the rack, Steve said, "This is good. Let's go."
"You're not gonna try 'em on first?" Danny asked, walking behind him in the narrow aisles of the men's section.
"I know what size I wear."
"What if they run slim?"
Steve looked back at him incredulously. "Run sl–" He stopped. "What are you . . . it's a shirt, Danny. It's fine. I'm not gonna try it on."
Danny held his hands up defensively. "I'm just trying to be helpful."
Steve rolled his eyes, walking again toward the center aisle of the store. "I don't need a second opinion on my wardrobe."
"If you had one, you'd own less cargoes."
"What's wrong with cargoes? They're practical."
Before Danny could retort, Steve paused, looking at a rack of button-downs. He reached over and pulled the sleeve out to get a better look.
Danny's brow knitted, glancing between Steve and the shirt. "Purple? I can't see you wearing a purple shirt."
Steve looked at him. "Why are you here again?"
"I'm just saying. I can't see you in purple."
Steve straightened, turning to face him more fully. "You think I'm not secure enough in my masculinity to wear a purple shirt?"
Danny waved a hand. "I don't want to talk about your masculinity, I'm just giving my opinion."
Steve paused, looking back at the rack with a small smirk on his face as he grabbed one of the purple shirts in his size.
"This one's not really for me."
Danny blinked.
"Oh, for crying out . . . Seriously?"
Steve just gave him a knowing smile and started toward the cash registers.
Danny laughed, falling in step beside him. "Well, if it's not really for wearing – at least for long – why not just buy a cheap one?"
"The buttons on those come off too easy," Steve stated simply.
Danny snorted. "And you know this from experience, of course."
Steve gave a little shrug in response.
They reached the checkout line, and Steve said, "Don't want Cammie to eat one."
Danny nodded in acknowledgment of the point.
"Besides," Steve continued, his lip twitching. "I've got better things to do than spend an evening with a needle in hand."
"You know most guys buy their girlfriends stuff to wear from Victoria's Secret."
Steve paused.
"I'm not most guys."
Danny chuckled. "No argument here."
Catherine returned that night as Steve and Cammie were coming back inside from the backyard.
"Hey," he said. "Good night?"
She smiled. "Great night."
Cammie bounded over to greet her, and she gave the excited dog an affectionate kiss on the head.
"Can I get one of those?" Steve asked, stepping closer.
Catherine grinned. "You can have one of these."
She cupped his cheeks and kissed him lingeringly.
"Mm, I'll take another," he said and kissed her again.
She smiled when they pulled apart. "What about you? Quiet night here?"
"Uh, no, actually. I just got back about fifteen minutes ago. Danny and I went to Side Street. He was . . . bored."
She chuckled. "Nice of you to entertain him."
"He may have gotten more than he bargained for." When she looked confused, he waved a hand. "Never mind."
She turned toward the stairs. "Okay, I'm gonna go change."
"All right."
He headed into the kitchen as she went upstairs.
In the bedroom, she put her badge and weapon in her night table, then pulled off her shirt and dropped it in the hamper.
Spotting the unfamiliar bag on the dresser, she stepped over and looked inside. Her brow knitted slightly, and she pulled out the purple button-down, looking at it in confusion.
A slow smile spread across her face, and she glanced at the bedroom door.
Grabbing the tag, she pulled it off and started undoing the buttons eagerly.
Steve was just walking back into the living room when he heard a sultry, "Commmmaannnderrrr . . ." drift down from upstairs.
He took the stairs three at a time, recognizing that tone instantly.
Reaching the landing, he stopped.
Long, bare legs greeted him as Catherine leaned against the doorway of their bedroom. His eyes moved up slowly to mid-thigh where the edges of the purple button-down began.
He swallowed, looking farther up to where she was tugging gently at the open collar.
"That one definitely looks better on you," he said, a smile appearing despite the roughened edge to his voice.
"Did a little shopping before dinner, huh?" she asked, clearly amused.
"I needed a few shirts," he said, slowly ascending the final stairs. He stepped in front of her, licking his lips. "And this one was a . . . what do you call it?" He smirked. "An impulse buy?"
Her smile widened, and she tugged him closer.
"Come here, sailor, I'll show you something about impulses."
His answering grin was captured by her hungry kiss.
He slid his hands up the back of the button-down.
"Mm," he murmured against her lips. "I don't think this one's staying on long either."
Hope you enjoyed!
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