Hey guys! So I'm temporarily blocked with "I Miss You, Too," and I was in the mood for some ridiculously, disgustingly, I-had-no-idea-I-had-this-amount-of-cheesy-little-'r'-romanticism-in-me fluffy stuff, so here it comes! Well, not this chapter, not really. A little, I mean, but not so much it's overwhelming. More fluffy stuff next chapter. (quick question: would you all hate me if I made this into a more mature 'T' than a 'K'?)
Read and review, it really makes my day. I love it! (Also, to you NOLA natives out there, how'd I do with the accent? I tried my best, even watched some youtube videos about it.)

P.S. Shugga's back and blacker than ever!

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. We are now approaching the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. It's currently two-fifteen a.m. and balmy 52 degrees. Hope you have your jackets! We're right on time, and we'll be landing in about three minutes. Please stay in your seats until we've turned off the seat belt sign. Thank you for flying North American Airlines, and I hope you enjoy your time in New Orleans." The captain clicked off, and Mac sighed in relief. Amanda had given up on him and was now bothering the man across the aisle. Mac shot him a sympathetic look as the plane touched the ground. He waited patiently while they circled down and landed, rolling his neck and stretching. Finally, they opened the door of the plane and one by one, the passengers deplaned.

The air was damp and cold, and a salty breeze played with his hair as he stepped out of the airport nearly a half an hour later. There was a cab sitting on the curb in front of him. He looked in the front seat. The cabbie looked up and grinned, rolling down the passenger side window.

"Hello, suh, can I take yeh somewheyuh?" he drawled, looking him over. Mac nodded.

"Where's a good place to stay for a day or so?" he asked curtly. The cabbie nodded.

"De best place aroun' heah is uh Lah Keen-tuh Eeyin. Its pretteh nahce, naht tuh esspensive. Haow does dat sound, suh?" the cabbie asked him.

"Sounds fine," Mac said with a tight smile. The cabbie smiled back.

"Can Ah help yuh with your bags?" The cabbie asked. Mac cleared his throat.

"Uh, no, no thanks, I've just got the one bag," Mac said. "just, uh, pop the trunk."

"Sho' thang." The cabbie hit a button, and the trunk opened. Mac lifted the small suitcase into it and shut the lid. Then he got into the back of the cab and the driver pulled away from the curb.

"Well, thayun, suh, dat's where we's a-gonna go. Ah'm Shuggah, bah da way," he offered.

"Uh, Mac," Mac returned.

"Weccome tuh da citaeh, Mac," Shuggah said to him. He looked around, taking in the city that Stella now served. It was nothing like his city. Where New York was tall and crammed, gray and dark, New Orleans was colorful and more open, similar to Chicago, but with fewer skyscrapers. The architecture varied from modern to late-forties to turn-of-the-century Victorian-era beauty. Mac couldn't help but admire the city. However, he was approaching thirty hours without sleep, and he knew he would have a better chance to see it during daylight hours. So he listened sleepily to Shuggah rattle off facts on the city for the five minute drive. Soon enough, the taxi was pulling up to a small, clean-looking hotel. Mac paid and tipped the cabbie, got his suitcase out of the trunk, and made his way into the hotel. After a short conversation with the receptionist, he had secured a room for the night. He received a key, went up to his room, and, yawning, changed into a pair of boxers and a sleeveless t-shirt and collapsed into the bed, too tired to think about the state of the sheets.

XXXXX

After a night's sleep, a shower, and some breakfast, Mac was ready to do what he came for. He got out his phone and dialed Stella's number again, this time hitting the green "call" button. She picked up on the fourth ring.

"Bonasera," she said briskly, sounding busy. Mac's voice caught up in his throat at the sound of her voice, and he couldn't speak for a moment.

"Hello?" she asked when he didn't respond.

"Stella," he finally managed. He heard her gasp.

"Mac?" she asked uncertainly. "Mac? Is—is that you?"

"Yeah," he said softly. He cleared his throat. "Hi."

"Hi," she said tenderly. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know," Mac said, closing his eyes. How long had he been dreaming of this moment? He didn't know. "Busy."

"Yeah, I bet," Stella said with a small chuckle. "How many days has it been since you slept in your own bed?"

Mac thought for a moment, and Stella chuckled again. "Yeah, that's what I thought," she said, and Mac could hear her smiling.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "you know me. So, uh, what you, what are you doing?" Was he stuttering? Mac Taylor didn't stutter. He needed to get a grip.

"Oh, you know, the usual. I just got off work," Stella said casually. Mac looked at his watch.

"It's nine a.m.," he said skeptically. "What are you doing just getting off work now?"

"It's only eight here," Stella said defensively. Then she paused. She must have looked at her watch, because she said, "No, it's nine. Wow. I must be more tired than I thought."

It was Mac's turn to chuckle. "Now who's the one staying up all night?"

"I had to," Stella retorted. "I was working on a—"

"—case?" Mac finished for her. "Yeah, I know the drill. How's it going?"

"Closed it, actually," Stella said. She sounded proud of herself. "I'm gonna take a day for myself. I've been working for a week straight. Haven't gotten more than an hour or two of sleep in the past few days, but it was worth it. We got him."

"Good for you, Stella," Mac said, truly glad. "So you gonna stay at your apartment for the day, then?"

"Yeah, maybe," Stella said. "I might do some shopping or something, but first, I'm going to get a few hours of sleep."

"Shopping?" Mac chuckled. "Get your rest, Stella. You need it if you're gonna be running a crime lab."

"Funny, you never seemed to need any," Stella said dryly. Mac laughed.

"Good point. Well, I'll let you get some sleep," Mac said. "I want to talk to you about something later. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay," Stella said with a yawn. "I'll talk to you then." Her voice had risen in pitch, but it was softer.

"All right," Mac said. "Good bye."

"Bye, Mac," Stella said tenderly. "It was really nice to hear your voice again. I missed it."

Mac smiled a grim smile. "Yeah. I—I missed yours, too."

"Mm-hmm," Stella sighed softly. "Bye."

"Bye," Mac breathed. He clicked off and ran his hand over his face. When had Stella had such an effect on him? There he was, sitting in a New Orleans hotel room, sighing over her like some lovesick schoolboy. What was wrong with him? He sighed and looked at his watch. He had a few hours to kill until Stella would be awake. He decided to spend them finding Stella. He'd gotten her address when she moved, but he had no idea where she was in relation to him. He logged on to the hotel's free Wifi and input her address into a search engine. Within minutes, he had a map. It was several miles from where he was—he'd have to take another cab. Oh, well. He sent the directions to his phone and then laid back on the hotel bed, letting his mind wander while he waited for Stella to wake up.