Standard disclaimers apply.

Vince, the Moderate Merry Man
By Alfonsina

"They aren't going to find us for hours," I said.

"They probably already know we're missing. Not a big deal."

"You aren't really building confidence right now, Vince," I said. I hate being locked in confined places.

"I'm your favorite, right?" he asked.

I don't know where the question came from or why, but we were together and we should talk about something, anything. Plus right now he was my favorite, because he's patient, kind and has killer dimples. Did I mention he has a really rosy complexion and an amazing smile?

"Of course you are my favorite young, blond, under thirty, Merry Man."

His lips turned up a fraction of an inch.

"Do you have a favorite over thirty, Merry Man?"

"Not tonight," I said. And tonight I didn't want to think about it or anything else.

We were supposed to be checking out the security cameras at an office building when someone, who shall remain nameless, accidentally flushed the keys down the toilet. What? Keys fall out of pockets and into toilets all the time, don't they? How did that happen? Don't ask.

It wouldn't have been so bad except that we were now stuck in the stairwell. We couldn't open the second or third floor doors, they locked automatically, and this stairwell didn't have roof access. Under the law the door at the ground floor wasn't supposed to lock and we should have been able to open that door and push our way back into the lobby or the great out of doors. Someone forgot to tell management because even though the door wasn't technically locked it was stuck and in a big way. If Vince couldn't shoulder it open there was no way I could.

At least I didn't have anything to drink and probably wouldn't need to potty again for a few hours. That was the good news, the bad news was that my cell phone was in the truck and Vince couldn't get signal with his. More on the bad news, Ranger and most of his core team were out of town and the control room was being handled by a rookie who didn't know my reputation. It was doubtful a search party would be formed or even considered until Junior took over in the morning and noticed a lack of status reports.

"We may as well get comfortable," I said.

"I wish I could get rid of some of my extra energy," he said.

"You mean like exercise?" I asked. Stupid question, he was a Rangeman, he ran ten miles per day. He wouldn't get rid of extra energy by sitting around, he'd probably want to do laps.

"Do you mind if I run the stairs?"

"Just let me get out of the way."

Fortunately there was a decent sized landing and I got the bird's eye view of Vince running the stairs for almost an hour. By the time he got done, his rosy complexion was rosier and his shirt was gone. Damn, that meant I was going to have to admire that nicely toned chest until either he got cold or embarrassed.

He finally came to rest on the second floor landing and sat next to me.

"Wanna talk?" he asked. The man wasn't even out of breath. I'd need an oxygen tank if I'd run stairs for more than two minutes; for sixty I'd probably need an ambulance.

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?"

"Anything, you start."

So we talked about work, people we knew and then food. At some point, he put his shirt back on; disappointing, but understandable. It was cold in the stairwell and getting colder as the night went on.

"What do you think the most perfect food in the world is?" he asked as he draped an arm over my shoulder. We'd been sitting next to each other and were both feeling a bit of a chill.

"Birthday cake," I said snuggling into his chest.

"Why?"

"Easy, it is a special cake once a year for somebody. Doesn't matter what flavor it is or the icing that is used, birthday cake is probably perfect. Besides, it has eggs and grain and depending on the icing some milk, so you get a lot of your food groups in every bite. See, perfect. You?"

"Hamburgers. You can't go wrong with hamburgers. They are the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast."

"You are kidding right? Doughnuts are the prefect breakfast food," I said with a yawn.

"Nope. It is the hamburger. You have your protein, your grain product," he said winking at me, "between the catsup, lettuce and the pickle you have the veggie portion covered. If you want extra dairy you add cheese. Plus it is easy to carry around and you don't get that pesky sugar high."

"I like the sugar high."

"What about the crash later?"

"Not so much loving the crash later."

"See."

"Ok, can we agree the prefect meal would be the hamburger followed by birthday cake?"

"Agreed."

"You should probably close your eyes for a bit, Steph, we'll be here for a while."

A/N: Vince has a reputation for being moderate in everything except for one; you'll find out soon enough.