TITLE: Seeing Red
AUTHOR: Cyclone
RATING: PG
KEYWORDS: Goren/Eames
SPOILERS: none
SUMMARY: Eames was going to have a cow, and it would probably come armed with a semi-automatic.
DISCLAIMER: I believe Dick Wolf and Co. retain ownership of everything L&Oish.
NOTES: It's been a while. Be gentle - or not.
XxX
In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest thing he had ever done. In fact, it was probably closer to being one of the dumbest. He really had no idea how it happened. One minute he had been doing his job; watching, memorising details, thinking two moves ahead, the next, an inexcusable lapse in judgement had caused it to all come crashing down around him. He winced as he surveyed the resulting damage of his actions. Eames was not going to be happy. Eames was going to, as her nephew was fond of saying, have a cow. A really big, angry cow. And he couldn't blame her.
She'd warned him. She'd told him that things could get dicey, and he'd listened and nodded and then gone ahead and ignored everything she'd said. Not deliberately, of course, because only a fool ignored Eames when she had something to say. But in his hurry to get things finished before she came back, to have all the loose ends tied up and cleaned up and wrapped up in a tidy little package that meant she could have a weekend off, he'd somehow overlooked the most important thing and messed up. Colossally. She was really going to have a cow, and it would probably come armed with a semi-automatic.
He'd just wanted to do something nice for her. She hadn't asked, or expected him to, but she'd understood that it was his way of balancing the ledgers. Their last case had brought out the worst in him, and he'd been an ass. To Ross, which was negligible, to the suspect, which was understandable, and to her, which was almost unforgivable. He'd been trying to make amends for his behaviour and even though she'd let it be known that yes, he had been an ass, she'd accepted his apology and told him that that was the end of it. It wasn't that easy for him though, and remorse saw him still wanting to cut her a break. So he'd ushered her out of the room and told her that he had everything under control, and fool that she was, she'd believed him.
Forty minutes later and it was apparent that he had nothing under control. He had screwed up, big time, and he didn't think he could fix it before Eames got back. Hell, he didn't think anyone would be able to fix it. She was going to take one look at situation, then a long, hard look at him, and she would see him for the fraud that he was. He'd messed up, screwed up, fucked up, and there would be consequences. He was up shit creek, without a paddle. With a cow gunning for him. There was no way out of it. He was just going to have to confess, apologise, and try to make it right.
XxX
It was another fifteen minutes before Eames came back. "Hey," she said, throwing a casual glance his way as she walked across the room. "They were all out of . . ." She stopped, turned to look at him again, and put the coffee down on the table. "What happened?"
He wordlessly led her to the other room - the scene of his monumental act of idiocy, and showed her what he'd done. "I'm sorry," he began. "I don't know. . . I should have. . . "
Eames surveyed the damage. He'd been right; she didn't look happy. She didn't look like she was going to drop a cow anytime soon, so that was a bonus, but she most definitely did not look happy. "Yes, you should have. I guess you got distracted."
That he did. It wasn't exactly his fault though. Maybe if he could just explain it to her, he could make her understand that. Unfortunately his mouth wasn't quite as caught up as his head, and it blurted out the obvious before he'd had a chance to formulate an excuse that she might have brought. "That wasn't entirely my fault."
Her head cocked to the side - an affliction that she'd began mocking him with whenever she felt that she had the upper hand. Which, actually, when he stopped to think about it, was happening quite a lot lately. "You're not blaming me, are you?"
"No, no," he retracted quickly. Then he thought about the circumstances that had led to his oversight, and he changed his mind. "Well, yes. I am."
"I can't see how this is my fault. You were the one who brought over that red lacy thing. You were the one who wanted me to wear it. And you were the one who decided to impress me with your questionable laundry skills."
True, all true. But she was the one who'd walked from the bedroom to the bathroom via the laundry room bare assed naked. What did she expect? Of course he was going to lose concentration. Especially after she'd nuzzled his neck and told him that watching a man doing housework was a greater aphrodisiac than all the oysters and chocolate in the city. She'd created the monster, so he didn't see how he could legally be held responsible for anything that was fruit of the poisonous tree. In fact, she should count her lucky stars that pink shirts were the worst she'd come home to.
He really felt the need to point that out. "And you were the one who -"
"Who what?" she asked, with a slight lilt that told him that he wasn't in nearly as much trouble as he thought he was, but if he kept going he'd be seeing that cow soon enough.
"Nothing. It was all my fault."
"That's what I thought."
He offered up an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Eames smiled back, and it suddenly was. "But you owe me some new shirts."
"Done," he laughed, and as she pulled his head down for a kiss he sighed in relief that he wouldn't be seeing the cow after all.
End.