Title: A Lady Never Tells
One-Shot
Pairing: E/C
Rating: T
Summary: "Does it matter what he's big on? It should have to do with what you like. What makes you feel good." What makes Calleigh feel good? Inquiring minds want to know.
Spoilers: Up to Born to Kill
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the show.
A/N: Mindless drabble at 4a.m. Shallow comments appreciated. Enjoy.
O-O-O-O-O
Her walk is very distinct, much like the rest of her. The clickity-clack of her heels is delicate but precise as she strides towards you in front of interrogation. Her arrival is shadowed by the subtle trace of her scent, which is the definition of summer in its lightness. Her hair is down today, a welcome change, for she frequently keeps it up in the August heat, tight little curls inching their way up her neck serving as a barometer for the relentless humidity.
Without looking at her you hand over the file, choosing to keep your attention on the scene unfolding before you. Natalia is conducting the questioning and is doing quite well. You both had been working together a lot lately, and it felt good to see her grow under your guidance. He now understood why Calleigh liked to watch Ryan interview suspects sometimes. It gave him an idea of what they could improve upon and what was being done well.
Feeling Calleigh shift beside you, you look over to see her scanning the file, deep in thought. Her hair obscured most of her face, but you could see her sharp green eyes moving rapidly across the page. It felt nice to work with Calleigh again. You hadn't done so in quite a few weeks due to various reasons. She'd taken a week off in early July, and you'd hardly worked with her since. Despite minor hang-ups in other non-work related areas, you both always fell into an easy rhythm that was nearly indestructible.
You realize that you've been staring and avert your gaze, but in the process you catch a glance at a patch of exposed skin low on her neck. It is dark pink from the blush of someone who knows they've been subject to another's appraisal. He made Calleigh blush. Fantastic.
The slight thrill in this knowledge is short-lived as she clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ear, an unconscious nervous habit. Your eyes catch the glitter from a ring on her hand. Before you begin to panic internally, you realize it isn't on her ring finger. But it is on her middle finger, which makes the ring finger guilty by association. Was it new? Was it a gift? Was he paranoid?
"Eric!" her voice was full of exasperation. "I can't finish this if you keep reading over my shoulder."
"I – I wan't reading over your shoulder. I was just… admiring your ring. Is it new?"
Smooth, real smooth.
Calleigh's lips quirked up at the corners and she looked up at him knowingly.
"Yes it is, as a matter of fact."
"Really? Didn't know Jake had it in him."
You sense more than see her eyes roll, a continuance of her exasperation.
"Oh honestly, Eric. It's a gift from my granny. Besides. Jake isn't big on jewelry."
"Does it matter what he's big on? It should have to do with what you like. What makes you feel good."
"Valid point."
A few moments pass and your mind churns, your concentration on the interrogation is completely shot. In a desperately casual voice, you continue.
"What uh, what are you big on?"
She looks up at you cryptically and you can see her debate with herself as to what her response should be. Giving you a coy smile, she closes the file and turns to face you, her back on the interrogation.
"A lady never tells such things."
"Aw c'mon. I'd tell you."
"But I don't want to know, and if I did, I would be much more discreet about it."
"Fine," you say, feeling scorned for your curiosity. She offers a small chuckle as she tucks the folder under your arm and walks away, her retreat a little more bouncy than the way she came. You shake your head and cross your arms, tapping the folder at your side as Natalia finishes with the suspect.
Hours later and the lab is quiet, save for the shuffling of a beleaguered lab tech. You've been pouring over skin tissue slides for the last 45 minutes and there is no end in sight. Consumed by your task, you neglect to notice that distinct walk you were contemplating earlier.
The skin on your neck prickles as you feel her warm breath against your cheek. You don't move, not even to breathe. Her hair tickles the back of your ear as she leans carefully against your stool.
"Black lace," it's barely a whisper, but the chills are sent down your spine, leaving you defenseless.
You swallow deeply and try to dispel the natural physical response that follows such a loaded utterance. Turning around slightly, you catch the back of her head as she passes by trace, her hair fluttering behind her.
You question your sanity as you wonder if that really just happened and it wasn't your subconscious playing tricks on you. But then you close your eyes and you feel her close to you once again, her soft whisper in your ear.
No. That was no imagination. That was 100 percent certified flirtation.
Hmmm. Black lace.I'm familiar with black lace.
Coincidence? I think not.