Title: Caffeine Fix
Summary: Stella looked up, the man still staring at her, his eyes twinkled with amusement and for some odd reason, she couldn't look away.
Author's Notes: This was inspired by my other Mac/Stella fic I wrote "History"
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Stella took one last gulp of her coffee, draining down the rest of the scolding liquid. Frowning she looked down at the now empty mug. It was only 9:30 am and she was (only) on her fourth cup of coffee.
She'd need more of it, if she was to survive the day.
Opening her locker, she sat her coffee mug on the small shelf and then carefully she began slipping her blazer off. Setting her blazer down on the bench behind her, Stella turned back to the task at hand. Lifting her tank top to reveal a long thin gauze patch taped low over her abdomen. Peeling the tape, then the gauze back slowly, she finally got a good look at her latest war wound. She winced.
The scar was going to be at least 4 inches long.
It only ran deep on the left side, requiring a total of 5 stitches (no where near a personal best) but still it hurt like hell.
Sighing softly, she pulled out fresh gauze from her locker and started changing the dressing.
That's when she felt it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was watching her.
She hadn't seen anyone walk in though or hear anyone. Stilling her breathing, she redressed the wound and started placing the tape and other gauze patches back in her locker.
A shiver crept up her spine, then she heard shuffling behind her.
Grabbing her coffee mug, Stella spun on her heels and with the flick of her wrist sent her coffee mug sailing towards the shuffling noise.
It hit with a dull thud.
And the noise (a dark haired man) fell against the row of lockers behind her, and then crumbled to the ground, looking completely dazed. His suit jacket opened wide at his waist, revealing a NYPD badge.
Stella blinked.
Her eyes then settling on the cut on the dark haired mans hair line, a line of blood flow steady down his forehead. He was probably going to need a few stitches himself.
"Shit," Stella muttered.
She'd just assaulted a police officer.
Grabbing a few spare pieces of her gauze she moved to his side, and squatted down next to him.
"Here," She said, handing him the gauze, "To stop the bleeding."
The strangers eyes met hers, fingers brushing softly as he took the gauze. His hands were warm. A corner of his lips curled up slightly.
"Thanks,"
He watched her, watch him. Then the other side of his lip curled up. He smiled shyly at her.
"You throw a mean coffee mug."
Ducking her head, blushing softly, she returned to the only thing she knew. Humor.
"It's all in the wrist action."
Stella looked up, the man still staring at her, his eyes twinkled with amusement and for some odd reason, she couldn't look away. There was just… something, about this man that was making her stomach do flips, and her fingers tingled from where his fingers had brushed hers.
She's not quite sure how long they sat there, on the floor of the locker room, but it wasn't until her knees started to protest that she thought about moving.
"You should probably get that looked at, might need a few stitches."
The man nodded but made no move to get up, and then suddenly he extended his free hand.
"Mac Taylor."
Stella smirked, reached out and grasped it.
"Stella Bonasera"
fin