Written together with barsonaddict and inspired by the promo pictures and clips for the Season 19 premiere, 'Gone Fishing'. We intended to do a relatively short oneshot, but it kinda... eh... got out of hand XD So we've split it into two parts!

You can find the story on barsonaddict's Archieve Of Our Own account too.

We hope you enjoy this, we're looking forward to your feedback!


All Things Unexpected

Fin Tutuola stares at the bare concrete wall at the opposite side of the tiny interview room, wondering briefly why he's been so stupid. Normally he was the one putting the handcuffs on people, and now he's the one wearing them, chained to the table he was sitting at; arrested, in Cuba. Certainly a new experience, just not a very pleasing one.

The officers had gotten him out of his cell - well, he calls it hole - telling him that someone was there who wanted to speak to him, seated him in this room and left. Maybe they're trying to play tricks on his mind, raising his hopes that someone is coming for him just to crush them…

Fin almost jumps when the door is pushed open all of a sudden and surprise rushes through him as no other than Rita Calhoun marches into the interview room, not quite fitting into the atmosphere with her usual chic skirt suit and designer heels, hair perfectly curled. Before he can even open his mouth to say something, she is already glaring at him, her green eyes gleaming with anger as she exclaims: "The only reason I ever wanted to come to Cuba for was a vacation! Are you out of your mind?"
"Aren't you warm in those clothes?"
"I'm angry, Sergeant!"

Her annoyance with him is more than obvious and he is sure he's never seen her like this before, displaying so many strong emotions. Fin is sitting there trying to control himself, almost overwhelmed by the various feelings rushing through him as he realises she's really here.

'Dammit Tutuola, get yourself together! She's here to get you out of JAIL and all you can focus on is how gorgeous she is!'

"What the fuck did you do, Sergeant?" she asks when the officers who led her in left them alone in the interrogation room. Her green eyes are sparkling in fury and she makes a frustrated noise as she shrugs off her blazer, revealing a tightly fitting, long-sleeved blouse. It looks like she's been beamed out of a Manhattan courtroom to land here.

Fin licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

He really shouldn't be thinking about her this way, especially now, as she's obviously his lawyer. But still... he gets lost staring at her, watching her gesticulate and talk with passion, pacing in front of him.

"Well?" She says forcefully, her hands on her hips as she ends her monologue to stare at him.
Shit.
He has no idea what she said.

"Uh, it was an undercover op," he says dumbly, hoping that the sentence makes a bit of sense or she's really going to rip him a new one.

"Authorised by who?" she asks sharply, eyes narrowing further as she continues glaring at him. He feels like she knows he was staring at her, and even now his gaze briefly flickers down to her legs.
"Please, Tutuola, tell me the CIA sent you because otherwise I don't know how you want me to explain why you, an American police officer, kidnapped a person on Cuban soil."

Fin gulps, knowing that isn't the case. "Does it help that he's an American citizen?" he asks lamely.

Rita growls and leans forwards, supporting herself on the table - Fin gulps and tries to keep his focus on her face.
"Tutuola, stop joking around! This is serious!"

He sits back and moves to cross his arms over his chest, forgetting that his hands are chained to the table. He's in a foreign prison, and his only hope to get out is this woman in front of him.
"M'sorry," he mumbles. "I don't know what to tell you- we thought it would never come to this, obviously. I don't want to die in a Cuban prison, Counselor."

"I feel like you weren't thinking at all," Rita says with a sigh, her features softening slightly. "Don't worry. I'll get you out, even though I have no idea how yet."
She runs a hand through her light brown curls and sinks down onto her chair, sighing while she pulls out a notepad from her briefcase.

"You need to be prepared to tell me everything. Every single detail so that I can do this properly. Trust me to know what information is pertinent or not, okay? I'm going to see if I can get you out on bail- I don't trust that these rooms aren't being monitored," she explains quietly, pointing subtly at the camera on the wall behind her.

Fin gulps and nods, grateful that she's here - he knows she's very good, and he trusts her.
And so he tells her everything about how he'd planned this and found the people to execute the plan.

"I couldn't let him get away."

Rita shakes her head; sometimes doing the right thing gets you arrested. She glances at her watch. "Alright, I have to go, I have a meeting with the judge in an hour and I don't want to be late. Hopefully I will be back later with good news and you can get out of here while we wait for your trial. Otherwise, I'll be back first thing in the morning with a game plan," she elaborates confidently, though on the inside her stomach is in knots. She's feeling the pressure of the case and wishes she could call Barba to get his advice, but he made it clear that any contact between them would reflect badly upon Fin once they were back in the New York judicial system.

"Thank you, Calhoun. Really," Fin says softly, feeling like he's unable to express just how grateful he is that she traveled several hundred miles for him, and she gives him a tight smile.
"Don't thank me, Sergeant. I haven't achieved anything yet."
She stands up and slips her blazer back on before packing up her things. She has a bad feeling about leaving him here, but she has no choice.
An officer comes in and asks her something, and Rita answers in perfect Spanish, confirming that they are done talking.

Fin watches her leave, and just before she is out of sight she looks back, meeting his eyes and giving him what she hopes is an encouraging smile.

OoO

Her small smile stays with him for the next hours as he waits in his cell, lying on the small bunk bed and staring at the ceiling. He doesn't know how many hours pass until he hears the sound of heels on concrete coming closer and he sits up abruptly.
Rita looks extremely tired when she stops in front of his cell, but a grim expression of triumph is on her face as their gazes meet.
"The judge agreed to let you out, but I swear, if you do anything stupid I will kill you with my bare hands because I vouched for your good behaviour and was told not to let you out of my sight."

Fin breathes out a chuckle and feels like he could weep in gratitude and relief. "Thank you, Counselor, you have no idea..." he trails off and gets up to cross the few feet of space between the bunk and the door.
Rita looks around distastefully and barely holds in a shudder. "You're right, I don't. And since we're about to be roomies, I think you should start calling me Rita."

"Fin," he says with a grin while an officer unlocks the door of the cell and he hurries to grab his jacket and they're led out. Only a short time later Fin received his valuables back and they're sitting in a cab.
"The DA of Havana wanted your ass rotting in jail," Rita says casually, typing something on her phone. "But in the end he was easy to crack. Big ego, macho."

Fin smirks. "You're used to dealing with Barba, I'm sure it was a similar situation."
Rita chuckles, continuing to type as she answers. "You have no idea."
They sit in silence the rest of the ride to the hotel, Rita still sending what seems like endless messages, and Fin looking out the window feeling a bit lost. He doesn't know how he'll ever make it up to Rita, but he promises himself that he will.

When they arrive at the hotel he's a little shocked, even though he guesses he should have known that Rita Calhoun would get herself a room in the most luxurious hotel of Havana. He feels like a tramp next to her as they walk through the lobby towards the elevator, and he releases a breath he didn't know he was holding when Rita presses the button for the penthouse and the doors close.

Rita looks over at Fin, the relief rolling off of him in waves. She touches his elbow gently, giving him a small smile. "You'll feel better after a hot shower and something to eat."

"Thanks," he says quietly as they get off the elevator, entering the ridiculously huge penthouse. A big suitcase is standing in the entrance area, and Fin asks himself if she rested at all since flying here. It doesn't look like she was in the penthouse for longer than a few minutes.
"Your own hotel room and everything in it is seen as evidence so I called the manager and let them buy some clothes for you in the boutique downstairs so you have something to change into."

Again he is filled with a rush of gratitude, and if he weren't afraid of giving her a random disease he would probably pull her into a big hug.
"Rita... thank you doesn't seem like enough. But it's all I have right now. So, thank you," he says sincerely.
Rita's cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink and she almost replies with something about how she's just doing her job or that she would do this for any client, but that's not true. Especially sharing a suite with a client.

She clears her throat delicately. "You're welcome. Your room is just through there, the clothes should be in the closet already. Now go soak in the Jacuzzi- I'll order dinner to be delivered in about an hour."

Fin can't seem to find more words so he just gives her a smile and walks over to the door she pointed at. He would never be able to pay her back for what she is doing for him right now.
Rita feels a little tingly on the inside as she watches him leave and she almost stumbles over her own suitcase. Scolding herself to pull herself together she grabs the suitcase and walks off to her own room, deciding to change into something a little more comfortable before ordering dinner.

OoO

When Fin enters the living area of the penthouse a little while later he feels human again: clean and in regular (if not his own) clothes. He finds Rita sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, papers spread all over. She's got a Bluetooth headset on and is clearly discussing something important - though she's speaking so quickly in Spanish that Fin can't catch more than a random word here and there.

She changed her clothes too, now wearing a flowy cream skirt and a blue and white striped tshirt. Her hair is bound up in a messy ponytail and he briefly thinks that he wouldn't have recognised her on the street. When he comes closer, she notices him from the corner of her eye and stands up, walking over to a small kitchen area barefooted and coming back with a cup of coffee she hands him while still talking, then she says something slightly aggressive and ends the call, flinging the headset onto coffee table.

"Um, everything alright?" he asks quietly, eyeing the headset critically. Rita picks up her own cup of coffee and takes a big drink before answering.

"I'm trying to find a Cuban lawyer that I can trust to consult with me on your case. So that I can have someone on our side that knows the intricacies of the law here. Unfortunately, most of my Cuban lawyer pool consists of Rafael Barba."

"Oh," he makes lamely, not knowing what to say to help. It's his fault she's so stressed out; if he hadn't been so stupid she wouldn't have to deal with this now.

"I just tried to warm up some contacts from Harvard, people who know people." She stretches her back with a sigh and the sleeve of her shirt slips up a little, revealing some lines of ink on her skin.
Fin can't help but stare and blurt out, "Do you have a tattoo?"
Rita freezes for a moment, looking up at him briefly before turning back to her papers, obviously trying to appear casual. "I really don't think my tattoos should be our focus right now."

Tattoos? Plural? The formulation sticks around in his head and he can't help but wonder how they look like and where they are. Rita Calhoun is the last person he would expect to have one tattoo, let alone several, and he is truly curious. It distracts him from the situation at hand, takes some of the stress and worry away and he's glad to have something else to occupy his mind.
"Sorry... just... just never thought you would be the tattoo person."

Rita smirks to herself. "We all have our little secrets, Sergeant."

Somehow he feels very interested in hers, and he's horrified when he realises he said that out loud.

A few hours in prison and he is losing his mind.

Rita chuckles. "Well let's focus on the matter at hand first, then we'll celebrate with a round of truth or dare."

Fin can't help but smirk back and only the knock on the door keeps him from saying something dirty that would probably earn him a punch. What is wrong with him lately? He seems to have lost control over his thoughts and tongue around her.
"Dinner has arrived," Rita announces while a hotel employee wheels a big tray of food in.

Fin's stomach growls audibly at the smell; Rita politely ignores it and thanks the employee, handing him a generous tip.
"Now we're going to see if Lucia's cooking is really better than "the old country's"," Rita says mostly to herself and Fin feels a little jealous at the thought of Rita being at Lucia Barba's for dinner regularly, even though he knows that Barba and her have been friends since college.
They're sitting down at the dining table where the employee spread out the food and she places her napkin over her lap, adding: "I didn't know what you like so I ordered a bit more."
"I don't have much experience with Cuban cooking, to be honest," Fin admits as he takes his seat and copies her motions with his own napkin. "It smells delicious, though."

"It does," she replies with a small smile, pulling a platter of fish over to load some on her plate, together with some vegetables. She doesn't really want to cut the topic, but she feels rude for not having asked earlier. "How did they treat you?"

Fin shrugs, taking a rice dish and putting some on his plate, glancing up to meet her eyes briefly. "Fine. I mean, it was prison so it's never pleasant. But they knew I was American. They don't want any bad press."

Rita feels relief wash through her and she nods. "That's good. Well, for our case it would have come in handy if they'd treated you badly but for you... I mean I'm glad you're okay."
She hurries to cut a piece from her fish and puts it in her mouth to stop the embarrassing stuttering.

Fin smirks at her. "I know what you mean."

He adds some fish and vegetables to his plate as well and starts eating. The pink tinge on her cheeks is something he finds endearing, and he's surprised at his desire to make her blush again.

They eat in silence, neither of them willing to talk about the reason they're here while also not knowing a different topic. After having some baked bananas for dessert they settle on the couch and Rita grabs her phone to check her messages in the hope that one of her contacts got back to her with good news.

Fin meanwhile flips through the channels on the television, mostly for having something to do; his phone went missing at some point and he has absolutely no idea where or how to get it back. Even a replacement seems out of reach at this point. He feels so helpless and out of control of his own life.

Rita sighs in frustration and dials a number, getting up from the couch to pace the room while waiting for someone to pick up. She's exhausted from the flight and running around in Havana trying to get the best conditions for the case and for Fin, still she doesn't feel like she can rest.

Fin does his best not to eavesdrop on her conversation and finds himself paying attention to an episode of Friends (dubbed in Spanish of course) when Rita swears loudly and throws her phone onto the couch in frustration. "It's not even five o'clock in fucking Los Angeles, why aren't these assholes working?"

"You should rest. You've been working all day because of me," Fin says quietly, taking her phone and placing it on the coffee table.

Rita rubs her temples and takes a deep breath. "I don't mean to be a bitch but I'm trying to save your ass here. I intend to be flying back to American soil with you next to me. Unless you want to spend years in a Cuban lockup I've got to get something going. I don't have time to rest."

He feels truly worried and decides to give it another try. "I don't think it would help me much if my lawyer collapsed because she worked too much and didn't get any sleep."

Rita rolls her eyes but sees that he's truly concerned. "I've been working long hours for thirty years, Fin. I highly doubt this will be the case to break me," she protests stubbornly, but she sits down next to him and stares at the television. Her whole body aches as she slumps down at the couch but it's in relief and she hates to admit to herself that he's right.
"Maybe, but you never know when the breaking point might come. So please, Cal... Rita, just go to bed, get some hours of sleep and I'll never say anything about you working too much again."

She purses her lips and ultimately gives in. "Fine. But only if you go to bed too. And to be clear- you bossing me around? Not your best move," she says, but her slight smirk softens her words.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replies with a grin, feeling like she is a woman who likes to be in control. "Okay, deal. I'll go to bed now too."
"Good."
Rita stands up and takes her phone from the coffee table before moving towards the door to her room; Fin flicks the TV off and stands up as well, heading in the opposite direction to his bedroom. Just before he reaches the door he states quietly, "I really do appreciate everything you're doing for me, Rita. There's no one I'd rather have on my side."

She pauses in the doorframe and bites her bottom lip before turning, trying to look as casual as possible.
"I'm just doing my job," she answers, even though she knows that flying to Cuba already was more than what she would do for any normal client, and Fin knows too that's not completely true, but doesn't want to argue anymore. Instead he just gives her a small smile.

"Goodnight, Rita."

"Goodnight, Fin," Rita replies, returning his smile, then she softly closes the door behind herself.
Fin stares at the closed door for a long moment before getting into his room too. He undresses and climbs into the king sized bed; the fluffy pillows feel like heaven and he falls asleep within a few minutes, exhaustion knocking him out effectively.

Meanwhile, Rita can't seem to settle her mind, and even after taking a hot shower she just lays in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Her mind is too busy to grant her some rest, spinning around the question how she'll get Fin out of trouble.

In the middle of the night Fin wakes up from a bad dream, running his hand over his face while sitting up, trying to shake off the vague, dark. Sweat is covering his skin and his throat is dry, so he decides to get something to drink and use the time to calm down - his heart's still racing in his chest. He heads out to the living room at the promise of the mini fridge, frowning when he sees the light flooding underneath his bedroom door.

That light definitely wasn't on when he went to sleep.

He quietly opens the door and tiptoes out, having a suspicion on the cause of the light; his eyes need a moment to adjust to the light difference and then he spots Rita on the couch. She's wearing pyjama pants and a top, so she obviously was in bed but only waited until he was asleep to come back. Fin can't help but smirk at the sight of her asleep on her paperwork, curled up like a cat.

He steps closer, picking up a few stray papers that have fallen to the floor, and places them on the coffee table. Standing directly next to her now, he can't help but take a moment to simply look at her; Rita Calhoun is a beautiful woman.

Her face is relaxed in sleep, though she scrunches her nose when a stray strand of hair tickles her. Fin contemplates waking her when she shifts slightly and her hair glides off her shoulder, revealing her skin and the dark lines her shirt had hidden earlier.

Fin is transfixed by the sight of the ink on her skin, forming a beautiful rose pattern. He wonders what the story behind it is- and if he'll ever hear it.

Rita sighs before turning, one of the papers sticking to her cheek, and Fin decides he can't let her sleep on her paperwork the whole night. Gathering his courage, he steps closer and carefully peels the sheet off her cheek, trying to decide between waking her or trying to carry her to bed.

Ultimately he decides that he doesn't want to lose an arm (or worse) if she woke up while he was holding her in his arms so he kneels down next to the couch and gently touches her arm. "Rita," he croons softly, "wake up!"

She mumbles something unintelligible under her breath but continues sleeping, causing him to sigh heavily. He shakes her arm lightly this time as he says her name, hoping she will wake now. Again it appears as if she's trying to say something, but he can't make out what it is. Frustrated, he says her name louder and this time it works: in half a second her fiery green eyes are glaring at him. "What the hell, Tutuola?"

"Yeah, same. What the hell are you doing here? I thought we agreed to get some sleep!" he scolds her, leaning back a little while she sits up and hurries to wipe some drool from the corner of her mouth.

Rita runs her fingers through her curls then huffs, embarrassed and sleepy. "I tried. I took a hot shower, laid in bed for over an hour, I even tried counting sheep for awhile. I just couldn't switch my mind off. So I came back out here to be productive," she explains, crossing her arms under her breasts, just now realizing how chilly it's gotten in the room with the windows open.

Fin tries hard not to look down, concentrating on her face and masking his momentary distraction with a grin. "Obviously that put you to sleep. Maybe you should go to bed and try sleeping again. Or do I have to carry you there and use my handcuffs to keep you in bed?"

"Forcible confinement, Sergeant? That sounds awfully familiar," she teases, referencing his pending charges; Fin feels his cheeks get hot and backs up as she moves to stand up.

"You know that's my job sometimes, right?" he says, trying to act casual. "And outside the job I've only done that when I was begged to."
What the hell is wrong with him? Uncontrollable babbling normally never happens to him.

Rita chuckles, amused by his response. "I'm only teasing, Fin. But you're right, consent is necessary in those types of situations."

"Yeah, yeah it is, otherwise it... it wouldn't be fun."
He feels like he's sweating from the effort of keeping himself from imagining a certain situation... he really needs to get back into bed, his brain is playing tricks on him and her standing so close doesn't help it.

She can't help but breathe in his scent, and the thought pops into her mind that she wouldn't mind him crawling into bed with her just then. Where the hell did that come from, Calhoun? Get yourself together. He's your client. This isn't a vacation.

"Well, uhm... goodnight, then. For the second time," she says quietly but doesn't move, staring at him while the salty breeze from the ocean is blowing into the room.

Fin catches himself staring at her again and clears his throat. "Yeah. Um. 'Night," he says quietly, looking at her face. He makes his way back to his bedroom door before he says one last thing. "Nice tattoo, by the way. Suits you."

Rita, still standing in the same spot, turns to him and briefly looks down at her shoulder and the roses decorating her skin before meeting his eyes again. "Thanks. It was my second one."

She gives him a small, satisfied smile and heads back to her room, throwing over her shoulder, "Please don't move my papers- they're in a system."

Fin looks at the chaos on the coffee table and the couch and raises his eyebrow. "System. Yeah, sure," he grumbles before vanishing in his room, asking himself where that first tattoo she mentioned is. Not that he would ever find out…

Rita climbs back into bed with a smile on her face. Who knew middle of the night banter could be so relaxing? Enjoying the feel of the fresh breeze coming through the window she feels at peace for the first time since hearing about the whole predicament; while there's still a big hill to climb she knows she's up to the challenge.

She falls asleep easily this time, cuddled into the cushions, and dreams of a walk by the beach, with the sun shining down at her and someone holding her hand.

OoO

Fin wakes early the next morning, his worries waking him, and he decides that trying to sleep again would be in vain, so he gets dressed. Upon entering the living room he realises that Rita must still be asleep, as she's nowhere to be seen and it's very quiet - well, until her phone rings on the coffee table. He glances at her bedroom door, not really wanting to answer her phone. But he sees the area code on the display and recognizes it's from LA. Wasn't she complaining about not being able to get ahold of someone there?

Against his instincts he picks up.
"Hello, Rita Calhoun's phone."

There's silence at the other end of the line for a moment, then a smug voice slowly says: "Hello... who's there?"
"Fin Tutuola," he replies, slightly confused about the triumphant undertone of the woman. "What can I do for you?"
"This is Marilyn. I wanted to speak to my sister."

Fin thinks to himself that he really should have thought this through. "Um, she- she's not available just at the moment. Can I take a message?"
Marilyn snorts. "I know my sister is a workaholic but it's only 6am in Cuba. She can't be in a business meeting yet. And she told me she wasn't traveling with an assistant so I must ask, why are you answering her phone so early?"

He gulps and clears his throat. "She's still asleep," he admits and somehow feels the need to add something. "In her bed. And I slept in mine."
As if he hadn't made a fool of himself enough already.

Marilyn does her best to hold in another snort, but it's 3am and she's nearing the end of a 24 hour shift at the hospital so she's exhausted. "Right. Well, can you please wake her up? I wouldn't ask except I only have a few minutes to spare and she left me several colourful messages to call her immediately."

Fin feels like he would rather go back to the Cuban prison than to let Rita know that he touched her phone, but Marilyn's tone made it clear she won't accept a No.
"Well, uhm... okay," he replies and walks over to Rita's door slowly. He opens it quietly and steps inside, gulping as he sees her on the bed, limbs stretched into every direction, hair a curly mess and her pyjamas in disarray.

Clearing his throat lightly he reaches out to shake her shoulder gently. "Rita, your sister is on the phone," he says in what he hopes is a soothing voice.

On the other end of the line Marilyn is wishing she had a bowl of popcorn to more thoroughly enjoy this.

"What phone?" Rita grumbles into the pillows half asleep, shifting so her top slips up a little and Fin catches a glimpse of dark lines on her ribcage. She doesn't seem to understand anything of the situation, but a second later she sits up abruptly, wide awake as she stares at him and her phone in his hand.

He quickly thrusts the iPhone into her hand and exits the room without another word. He collapses into an armchair, wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to answer her phone in the first place. He also needs a minute to gather himself- he never pictured Rita sleeping before, but the reality was absolutely adorable.

Rita stares after him in confusion before holding the phone to her ear. "Calhoun?"
"You could have told me that you're going to Cuba to get a good shag. I'm your sister, Rita, I thought we agreed to share such information!"

Rita flops down onto the bed.

It's too early for this.

"Marilyn, I'm not on vacation. Like I told you before- I'm here on a case. Fin is a friend and colleague and he's my client. That's it. There's no shagging going on here."

"What a shame. He sounds attractive. Also, since when do your clients have access to your bedroom? I feel like there's more behind this, more than you want to admit to yourself," Marilyn says teasingly in her usual rush of words and Rita pinches the bridge of her nose.

"How can you sound attractive? You know what, never mind. I don't have to explain myself to you Marilyn. He's not like a regular client- I know him. He's staying in my two bedroom suite as an alternative to being in a Cuban prison, so please just drop it."

"You always had a thing for the bad boys," Marilyn states with an audible grin, of course not willing to drop the topic so easily.

Rita growls at that but can't really argue. "I swear to god Marilyn, if I didn't need your contacts I would hang up on you right now!"
Marilyn giggles. "I know, that's why it's so fun!"

Rita rolls her eyes - little sisters - and pushes some strands of hair out of her face. "Could you please tell me now if you reached your friend?"
"Only if you tell me what kind of interest you have in Mr Tutuola."

"I have a very deep interest in keeping him out of a foreign prison. That's all the interest I have right now, Marilyn! Now tell me!"

"Jameson is out of town but his partner gave me a phone number. Now, how close of a friend is he? Can you send me a picture?"

Rita breathes a sigh of relief- Jameson is highly respected and she trusts his colleagues. "No, I'm not sending you a picture, Marilyn."

"Why not? Please tell me you won't cockblock yourself."

"We're not talking about this right now, Marilyn. I promise I'll call you back after I get him off and you can pester me then. Now send me the information please," Rita says sternly, not realizing her poor choice of words.

Marilyn laughs triumphantly. "Have fun, Rita. Use protection."

Rita shakes her head at her baby sister and simply ignores her statement. "Love you, talk soon. Bye," she says then hangs up; sighing heavily, she wonders what today will bring.
24 hours ago she was in her own bed snuggling with her kitten. Now she's in Cuba, fighting to keep Fin out of prison, or at the very least have him extradited to the US.

A moment later her phone buzzes as Marilyn sends her the number she was given and she sighs, deciding that it's too early to call the lawyer.
However, she needs coffee first.
Forcing herself to get out of bed, she pads into the living room where Fin is trying to look casual and not scared that she will yell at him.

Rita strides over to the little kitchen and stares at the full coffee pot in surprise. "Thanks for making this," she mumbles, her annoyance with him lessening but still present.

"No problem," he replies quietly, shifting nervously. "I didn't mean to... it just kept ringing and it sounded like you were waiting for an important message from LA. Sorry, really. Won't happen again."

Rita snorts. "It was important, it just also happened to be my sister. Who, I'm sure you've realized, believes we're here on a sex vacation!"

Fin chokes on the sip of coffee he just took and stares at her with wide eyes while coughing; Rita looks at him over her shoulder, smirking even harder. "Oh, she only said that to me? Huh."

"Why... Why does she think stuff like that?" Fin gasps and Rita feels her mood lifting a lot at the sight of him stuttering and looking all embarrassed. Normally he always acts tough and is so calm.

Rita stirs milk into her coffee and shrugs. "She seems to think that because I'm single I have a new fling every week. She's been married almost fifteen years, has two kids, and hasn't really liked her husband in a while. She's living vicariously through me." Rita crosses the room to sit in the arm chair opposite Fin. "Oh, and the fact that we're sharing a hotel room and you answered my phone at 6 am," she adds cheekily.

"I told her we're not sleeping in the same bed," Fin grumbles, secretly intrigued by the personal information she's revealing.

She smirks into her cup, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ashamed to be in a fake relationship with me, Fin?"

He straightens his back, telling himself to pull himself together - she's enjoying this way too much for his taste. A smirk on his lips now too, he looks her straight into the eyes and replies: "Not at all. I got the feeling you like the thought, Calhoun. Still curious about the handcuffs?"

Thankful for her practised poker face, Rita cocks her head and purses her lips, pretending to think.

"I can't deny it's an interesting offer," she replies. "Can you elaborate?"
Did she really just say that?

Emboldened by her banter, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You, completely at my mercy, allowing me to bring you pleasure you can only imagine."

A shiver shoots down her spine and she licks her lips unconsciously, unable to deny that the intense way he looks at her is affecting her.

He sits back and takes a sip of his coffee, giving her a wink. "And I promise, none of that will be fake."

"That's quite an ambitious offer," she says after clearing her throat, trying to keep herself from shifting in her seat.

"Well, you're going to get me off, the least I can do is return the favour." Holy shit, did he really just say that? To Rita Calhoun?!

She has to congratulate herself for managing to keep herself from blushing at his words and she tries to hide how little she was prepared for his formulation by replying: "I hope your performance would be as good as you make it sound. I hate empty offers."
When did their conversation start to go down this particular road? She'll definitely give Marilyn hell for planting these thoughts in her mind.

Fin almost feels like this is a dream; he's never had this type of conversation with anyone and been sober.
"Baby, the only thing you'll be disappointed about is how long you waited to say yes."

Rita almost drops her coffee cup and she doesn't really know what to say - something she utterly hates. His intense dark eyes make her knees feel weak.

Fin is absolute mesmerized by her gaze; he loses track of how long they hold eye contact, leaning towards each other.