This is my first shot at a Stitchers fic. Jamie and I were discussing possibilities on the show with how things are currently playing out and I told her I could see things going a certain way and then this happened.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stitchers or any of its affiliates.

Detective Quincy Fisher opened his door to reveal none other than Camille Engelson. He'd been expecting her for the training he'd recently started giving her since she wanted to learn to defend herself. What he hadn't been expecting, however, was the bag of food he spotted in her hand.

"I brought Thai," she said as she lifted the food and managed her way by him, coming oh so close to rubbing against his tank-top covered torso, and into his living room. The bag with her change of clothes caught on his door and slid off her shoulder. Rather than losing the still steaming food, she let it fall towards the ground but Fisher caught it as he turned to close the door that had done the damage. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem," he replied, sliding it back up her shoulder. The backs of his fingers brushed her skin as he did so, causing goosebumps to form, even with the heat outside. They were in the middle of a heatwave at the moment and it was a reprieve to be in the air-conditioned house after being outside. The walk from her car may not have been long but it felt like forever. She was already covered in sweat and she was partially dreading how much worse it was going to get in the next couple of hours. Hopefully, Fisher would let her use his shower before she left. It may seem pointless since she'd just be going back out into the heat and then home for possibly another shower, but she'd feel better knowing she was, for the most part, clean. They made eye contact, Camille not missing that his hand was still on her bag. She cleared her throat before stepping away.

"Uh, eat first or train?" Fisher asked. He had taken a few steps towards the kitchen, trying to get back in the right mindset.

"With that heat?" she motioned towards the door she'd just walked through. "I could go for a nice, cold beer." She sat the food on his small living room table and sloughed her bag off her shoulder before she collapsed into his recliner.

He chuckled in agreement as he headed to the refrigerator. "Two beers, coming up." He grabbed two bottles from the door and walked back to join Camille in his small living room. His place wasn't huge but it served its purpose. She reached for the ice cold bottle and leaned back into the chair she had commandeered.

The pair of them sat in relative silence, sipping their drinks and avoiding eye contact. Fisher wasn't much one for conversation and Camille was still feeling a little tingly from their earlier encounter only moments ago. When they'd both finished their beers, she was the first to speak.

"Well, Fishy, let's get to it," she said, placing her bottle on his table and standing. He'd stopped objecting to her nickname for him weeks ago since there was no sense in arguing with her. He just smirked and stood. She grabbed the fingerless gloves she'd purchased recently from her bag and strapped them on as Fisher walked to the other side of the bag.

A few minutes later, they had both worked up a quite a sweat with his punching bag. According to Fisher, her right hook had improved but her technique still needed some work. He made plenty of comments throughout their training.

"Keep your hands up!" She'd roll her eyes and punch harder. "Don't forget to torque, Engelson!" She'd only comply and put her weight into it. "Don't forget to watch your breathing!" "Go lower!" "Hands up!" That one earned him a punch to the bag that was rather close to his face. "Watch it, Engelson!" he muttered, hiding a smirk. "Torque!" At this point, he was mostly doing it to rile her up. He knew that the more he did, the harder she worked.

Before they knew it, an hour had passed and they were both drenched in sweat and breathing rather heavily. Fisher had given her a break halfway through to show her a few new moves. Next week, they would be moving on from the bag to actual self-defense moves. He'd already shown her a few basics but they hadn't really practiced them all that much.

"Not bad, Engelson; you're improving," he breathed.

"Improving, my ass," she replied, unstrapping her gloves. She pulled a bottle of water from her bag and chugged half of it before taking another breath. "I could kick your ass if I wanted to. I just need a shower and some food before doing so." Fisher had gone back to his small kitchen to grab a bottle of water for himself and was in the process of drinking it when he turned to see her ruffling through her duffle. He raised his eyebrows as to ask what she was doing. "Ya mind if I use your shower, Fishy?"

"Sure, go right ahead. Down the hall, first door on the left." He took another drink of his water.

"Thanks. I'll be out in a few." With that, she made her way down his short hall and kept a snide remark to herself about how there were only three doors inside. He was nice enough to let her use his shower, she didn't want to push it. Yeah, she was sarcastic but she wasn't rude. Ten minutes later, she was walking back to the living room with steam rolling out behind her through the door. She was toweling her hair dry when she stepped into the room to see Fisher in nothing but his lounge pants. She stopped in her tracks and almost dropped the towel in her hands.

"Oh, you're out," he said.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, again." She lifted the towel she was holding. "Where'd'ya want this?"

"You can just toss it on the couch, I gotta clean up later anyway. You still hungry?" he asked as she did just that. She nodded and combed her fingers through her hair as she sat back in the chair she had claimed earlier. "I'll heat this up and grab us a couple of beers."

"Thanks. You, uh, gonna put on some clothes, Fisher?" she pulled her hair over her shoulder as she leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah, about that. I was just as sweaty and gross as you, I just didn't have another shower to jump into," he chuckled. "I just used the sink and cleaned up as best I could before changing. I'll probably jump in the actual shower after you leave."

"Ah, gotcha. Sorry, I just didn't wanna be stuck in those sweaty clothes longer than I had to."

"Understandable." He finished divvying up the food onto two plates and handed her one.

"Thanks." She picked up the chopsticks on the table and handed him a pair.

"Uh, no thanks. I'll stick with my fork. I never really mastered those things."

"You don't know how to use chopsticks?" she mocked, clicking her pair together between her fingers.

"Eh, it never clicked for me. Like I said, I'll stick with my fork."

They ate and made small talk, mostly about her training and the Stitchers program. She'd been learning more about piloting from Cameron and he'd even let her do a few solo in the last couple of weeks. Fisher had opted to sit in the floor and Camille joined him shortly after. With reaching for more food, they'd slowly moved closer to one another.

Camille pulled her hair up into a messy bun as Fisher grabbed for the fortune cookies on the table. He handed her one and cracked the other open for himself.

"Turn your wounds into wisdom," Fisher read. "Ironic." He rubbed his hand over the scars from the night almost two months ago.

"Do one thing every day that scares you," Camille's read. Her thoughts flashed back to the moment a couple of hours ago when she'd first arrived. She glanced over Fisher's bare chest, stopping on his scars from saving Cameron in that restaurant. "Ya know, I don't think I ever thanked you for saving Cameron that night." She dropped her fortune onto her plate and ate the other half of her cookie.

"It was instinct, nothing really," he shrugged. "Part of being a cop."

"I mean it, Fisher," she placed her hand on his forearm. "Thank you. He means a lot to Kirsten and she's kinda grown on me."

Feeling slightly uncomfortable with her gratitude, mostly because he wasn't quite sure how he felt about what had happened, he nodded in acceptance. Sure, he liked Goodkin well enough, he just didn't want him to know that. He didn't disregard her hand on his skin, he just wasn't sure what to make of it. Sure, there was tension there. But there was also an age difference. They'd gotten closer since the shooting and he wasn't afraid to call her a friend.

Camille took a sip of her beer with her free hand, still not moving the one she had placed on his arm. He mimicked her actions, more out of habit than thirst. She took another sip, not breaking eye contact, and removed her hand. He didn't realize how much he liked it until he felt the absence of warmth, even with the heat outside.

She placed the hand she'd just removed onto the floor and leaned slightly. A piece of her hair fell from her bun and into her face. Mostly in reflex, Fisher pushed it back behind her ear. He left his hand suspended beside her for only a moment before placing it on her face and pulling her in for a kiss. It wasn't a sweet kiss but it wasn't rough either. It was a quick one, testing the waters. She pulled him back to her, returning the gesture. This one was more heated and less tentative.

Within seconds, she was on his lap and wrapping her legs around him. Before she knew it, he was kissing down her neck and his hands were on her waist. If he'd been wearing a shirt, she would have removed it by now. In a flash, hers was over her head and their lips were glued together once again. She slid her hands over his arms before moving them to his chiseled chest, running her fingers over his scars. Still a sensitive area, he couldn't help but flinch at her touch. She pulled away from his face with an apologetic look.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed with regret. "I didn't mean..."

"It's fine," he breathed against her skin, pulling her back to him. "Just surprised me is all."

"Seriously, Fisher, we can stop." She was worried now that she had hurt him or gone too far.

"It's fine, Camille." He almost never used her first name, especially when they were alone. She thought it was because he thought it would mean they were too close, that they were actually friends. "I promise." He stopped in his attempts to kiss her and looked her dead in the eye. He meant it. He wanted this, he thought she did. So why wasn't it happening?

"Really?" she whispered. He'd never seen her this vulnerable. She was such a strong woman, a strong person, and to be honest, he was kind of intimidated by her. And a little scary. What was the word she'd used last week? Fierce. That was her in a nutshell.

"Really," he agreed. "Now, can I get back to kissing you or what?" he asked, only half joking. If she wanted to stop, he wasn't going to force her. "I was kinda having a good time."

She wiggled against his lap. "Yeah, I can tell." They both laughed before he went for her lips again. Before either of them had a moment to process it, Fisher had turned them and Camille was on her back on the floor. A few seconds on the cold hardwood was more than enough for her to speak up. "Uh, how about we move this somewhere with a little more cushion?" she asked. When he looked at her, she motioned to the hard surface on which she was currently laying. "Not the most comfortable place for what I have planned."

"What you have planned?" he asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow in the process.

"Yep," was her reply. She kissed him in a way that got her point across.

"Alright, then. Let's take this to the bedroom." With that, he bent on his knees and she wrapped her legs back around his waist as he lifted her from the ground. She was surprised at the strength of a man that had semi-recently been shot. She kissed down his neck as he carried her and wove her hands into his hair. Moving towards his left ear and biting slightly, it took all Fisher had in him not to drop her. Enjoying the reaction that had gotten, she moved to the other side and did the same thing. This time, he let her slide to the floor. She let out a slight squeal when he pressed her up against the wall. He slid his hands down her arms and pinned them above her head, holding them there with one hand. "Now, do you plan on doing that again, Engelson?" He got a nod in reply. "Then there may be a few things I have planned for you." He moved his other hand up her side as slowly as humanly possible, making her squirm in the process. "Stay still, Engelson," he urged, "or it'll just get worse."

She looked up from under her lashes. "Promise?" she breathed, taunting him with biting her lip. It took all he had in him not to take her then and there, he held back a noise that he wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Absolutely." He kissed her lips, then made his way to her neck, from one side to the other. He even slipped in a few nibbles under her ears as payback. She pulled her body away from the wall and tried to move her arms to wrap them around his neck but his grip only tightened. He was not letting go until he was ready. "Stay still," he murmured against her skin.

"I don't wanna," she muttered, trying to get a reaction out of him.

He pulled away from her neck and looked her in the eye. "Excuse me?" he whispered, raising that same eyebrow.

"You heard me," she said.

In a flash, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, eliciting a shriek and a giggle from her as he smacked her ass. He walked her the short distance to his room and tossed her on his bed. She'd never been in here before and took a moment to take in Detective Quincy Fisher's lair. It was decently sized for the house he had, with a king-sized bed, a chair in the corner, and a medium-sized dresser against the wall that didn't have a window. Brought back to the situation at hand, she slid herself backwards toward the many pillows that rested at the headboard and he leaned over to crawl after her.

She pressed herself against the pillows and he hovered over her. Sliding her hands to his waist, she pulled him down so she could kiss him again. She moved her hands to his back and wrapped herself around him once again. He pulled himself away to ask a simple question.

"So, what did you have planned?" He reached behind her head to pull her hair loose from its tie.

She pushed him to the side and was soon straddling him. Reaching her hands around her back to unclasp her bra, she replied with a devilish gleam in her eye, "Oh, Fishy, you have no idea."

XX

Camille woke up with an arm draped over her back. She was on her stomach in someone else's bed, she knew that much. Opening her eyes, she was met with the face of a man she works with. A man. Hence the age difference. It hadn't been a big deal last night, not once. But, in the light of day, she could see a few wrinkles she'd never been close enough to notice, not in the daylight, that is.

Daylight. Crap! She'd slept over without meaning to! She tried to slide out from under his arm and succeeded. Thank God he was a heavy sleeper. She looked around the room for her clothes, finding everything except her shirt which she remembered was in the living room somewhere. Going as quietly as she could, she sneaked to the other room and found her shirt and then her phone. 6 missed calls, all from Kirsten. Those new emotions were something they were all learning to live with.

"Going somewhere?" she heard behind her. She stopped putting her things into her duffle and turned around to see Fisher leaning against the door frame in nothing but his boxers. She could see streaks of chocolate still smeared across his chest. Which time had that happened, again? Second? Third? She'd lost count after round four. For a guy who was still supposed to be on restricted duty, he had some stamina.

"Hi! Uh, morning," she stammered. "Yeah, I was just, uh, heading out. I've got a few missed calls from Kirsten, probably since I didn't make it home last night." She was still remembering the things they'd done for a few hours. It was a shock they'd gotten any sleep at all. Him being practically naked didn't help matters any. God, the things they'd done...

"You left this in bed," he walked towards her with her hair tie pinched between his fingers. "Figured you might need it with the heat out there." She took it, careful not to make any skin to skin contact.

"Yeah, thanks." She pulled her hair up, this time making sure she didn't miss any. She didn't want to give him any opening for a repeat of last night. Little did she know that her doing just that brought back memories for him. All kinds of positions and feelings. Not romantic ones, of course. They'd just had a great time.

"No problem. I guess I'll see you at work?" he asked, not moving away from her. He'd gotten rather close in the last thirty seconds and she'd barely noticed until now.

"Yeah, sure thing," she agreed. He was trying his best to resist taking her back to his bed and having a repeat of the best Tuesday night he'd had in a long time. God, he wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to see if it was a one time thing or if it was more. But not romantically, of course. He kept telling himself that. He had been since he'd kissed her last night. Yeah, there was tension and electricity, but that could be attributed to the damn heatwave. He wondered whether he should hug her or high five or shake her hand. He'd never slept with someone he worked with, much less someone he'd be seeing in a matter of hours. His concerns were answered when she stuck out her hand for a handshake. Yeah, it was awkward but probably the safest option. He smiled and took her hand, holding back a laugh. "Thanks for the workout, Fisher." Realizing what she said, her eyes practically fell out of her skull. "I mean, uh, I, uh..." she stammered.

"I know what'ya mean. Thanks for the food," he laughed, still shaking her hand. "It was the best I've had in a while." He couldn't have been talking about the reheated Thai food, could he? Had he lowered his voice when he said that or was it her imagination? And why was he still holding onto her hand?

Without hesitating, she pulled him closer and planted her lips on his. He moved his hands to her waist and pressed her body against his own. She slid her hands around his back and held him there. This went on longer than either of them were willing to admit and probably would have gone to the next level had Camille not come to her senses when she did.

Out of breath, she pulled away and placed her hands on his chest to push him a safe distance from her. "Wait, wait, wait. We can't do this again. I've gotta get home, Kirsten's probably worried sick since she hasn't heard from me." He nodded in agreement. "This can't happen, again, Fisher. I mean it."

He could see how serious she was. Nodding again, he distanced himself even further from him. "Agreed. It was a one time thing. Well, a one night thing," he said, remembering how many times of a thing it actually was. He cleared his throat. "It was fun while it lasted, though." All six hours of it, he thought to himself.

"True," she placated. It had been fun. But it was over now. Never to happen again. "But it can't happen again, got it?" she asked. If Linus found out about this... They weren't together at the moment but she still didn't want to hurt him. She cared about him.

"Got it, never gonna happen." He nodded in agreement. He suddenly realized how naked he was, and how exposed. "I, uh, I guess I'll see you at work."

"Yeah, see you at work." She gathered the rest of her stuff and slipped on her shoes before leaving.

Fisher made sure to wait until she left and closed the door before moving from where he'd been standing. He didn't want to risk another moment of weakness like a few minutes ago. It was all physical between them, nothing romantic. He sighed and finally moved to make breakfast and get ready today. It was going to be a long enough day with how awkward it was going to be at work and on only a few hours of sleep, he didn't want anything else to contribute and an empty stomach might do just that. Actually, forget breakfast. He needed a shower. Not only was the heat terrible, he had chocolate syrup in places he didn't know he could get chocolate syrup. Walking to the bathroom, he turned the water as hot as it would go to get the sticky mess off his skin. He'd definitely have to wash his sheets later today before they were ruined. Soaping up to remove the sticky sweetness, his mind wondered back to last night. It'd been a while since he'd had a night like it. A few minutes later, he found himself switching the water to cold.

Okay, so that wasn't exactly how I saw it going down but the story kind of got away from me. But, I did end up loving it! I've never written anything like this before because the characters I usually deal with aren't as passionate at these two. Either way, I hope you enjoyed! Also, this is not the end and chapter two will be up within the week!
MJ