Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: New Orleans or its characters…
Author's Note: So this fandom is making me try all sorts of new things. Believe it or not, I had never previously done a holiday-themed fic before my obsession with Brody/LaSalle (I think Marjorie K Place suggested 'Cherri' and I think I like that ship name). And neither have I tried the '5 times' style fic before now. Inspired by BlackBear53's comment 'What happens when he does use the L word?' in response to Merri's feeling that she doesn't have to worry about that in my Give and Take fic.
THREE LITTLE WORDS 'or' FOUR TIMES LaSALLE TOLD BRODY 'I LOVE YOU' AND ONE TIME SHE SAID IT TO HIM
I. Sating The Ravenous Beast
Christopher LaSalle could feel that tightening in his abdomen, the beast that never seemed sated was creeping up on him. But he was in the middle of tracking the movements of an especially wily suspect and didn't want to stop until he'd pinned the bastard's location down. Okay, so after Robbie Arnold charged a motel room to the credit card stolen off his neighbor, Mrs. Waters, where did he head next? Theoretically, he seemed to be heading north. So if Chris cross-referenced the three dozen lists of charges on cards in Southern Louisiana that had been reported lost in the past week...
The beast clawed him right in the stomach, and then growled its discontent.
Damn.
Chris pushed back from the computer monitor which he'd been so obscenely close to that there may in fact be a smudge from the tip of his nose in the middle. Hastily, he pulled open the bottom right drawer of his desk... And found it lamentably empty. No bags of Doritos or pork rinds. No power bars. Or chocolate bars. No trail mix. No jerky. When had he depleted his reserves? He usually always made sure he had a stock of eats on hand. But-
His stomach growled angrily once more.
Ah, hell. He sighed, got to his feet and went to scrounge in the kitchen. Even before King had taken up residence in the building, the man had kept the fridge and pantry well stocked. Perhaps knowing his junior agent's perpetually unsatisfied stomach, and borderline hypoglycemia issues. But alas, Dwayne Pride had been in Washington the past few days, by special request of the director, serving on some review board reevaluating NCIS protocols and procedures.
All there was in the fridge were the remains of a brick of old cheese -currently entirely covered in mold- and all the various condiments and components Pride used to make his famous sauces. There was plenty of rice in the cupboards, but for how long that took to prepare, Chris might as well go out in search of food. The damned beast began to claw its way out of his stomach. At least, that's what it felt like. And if he was already at the point of hunger pangs, then he would likely very shortly become light-headed, or get the shakes.
Maybe Brody had a granola bar or something in her desk? That was an invasion of her privacy he rather not succumb to, riffling through her belongings when she wasn't there, but god, was he in a bad way... He'd try Pride's desk first, but the man didn't believe in 'junk food'. King was a slow food nut, but that didn't help a man who needed an immediate pickmeup.
Resigned, Chris plopped down in his chair once more, one hand on his grumbling, aching, empty stomach. He stared at Brody's vacant, neatly organized desk. She must keep something in there, just in case. She was always prepared. There was probably a first aid kit, water purifier, even whole MREs, for god's sake! But what if he came across personal, woman things? No. No, he wouldn't go scrounging through her things for something to sate his irately neglected stomach.
He'd just have to abandon his post, lock up the entire building, since he was the only one there at the moment, head to the nearest place he get food, just down the block, but they always had at least a 20 minute wait time to even place an order, let alone get your meal, even to go... Feeling a little dizzy, he placed his head in his hands and allowed himself to wallow in self-pity as he tried to prevent the world from beginning to spin around him.
There was a loud thunk and he opened his eyes to see an extremely greasy looking white paper bag sitting on the desktop before him. He glanced up at Meredith Brody's patiently smiling face. A wrinkle formed between her brows and at one corner of her mouth as she gave him a concerned little frown.
"What's this?" he asked, already unrolling the top of the paper sack and delving a hand inside, making the waxed paper crackle loudly. He wasn't sure that he actually cared what precisely it was. It could be charred gopher on a stick, for all his stomach cared. He pulled a foil wrapped tube out of the bottom.
"It's a burrito, from that new Mexican place," Brody said. Normally, Chris would harass the shit out of her for buying Mexican food in the heart of the Cajun culinary world, but again, charred gopher would satisfy him at the moment. He unwrapped one end, okay, unwrapped about half of the tortilla-encased concoction, and shoved as much of it as would fit into his mouth. He could barely move his jaw to chew.
"It is 3 O'Clock," she said. "About the time when you need to feed that black hole you call a stomach again."
He stopped chewing, staring at her for a moment. Well, it was pretty obvious that he stuffed his face with something or the other about this time every day. But the thoughtfulness of the gesture was rather pleasing. And so was the burrito. God, it was good. A little bit spicy. Not soggy but not too dry. Still hot. Greasy. It silenced the growling beast in his stomach.
"I think I love ya, Meredith Brody," he said, around a mouthful of half-masticated burrito. "You're a friggen lifesaver."
His mama had always tried, god love her, but she never did teach him not to talk with his mouth full. But the female agent didn't seem to mind, smiling at him, one eyebrow raised, giving him that look he'd come to know so well. It was one of a sort of aloof amusement. Not condescending, or anything. He didn't get the sense that she thought herself superior to him, just that they were different enough that he was a curiosity to her, as if he were a foreign creature that she found interesting, and really wanted to understand. And also, that she genuinely seemed to like him. At least, he hoped so. Because he liked her, found her just as intriguing as that look implied she found him.
And she'd brought him food.
He might just be in love.