A/N: Short, but necessary. (: Enjoy.

Chapter 9: The Meal

Monday, Shay's apartment, 9:03PM

Knocking on the oak and steel door of Shay's apartment, Dawson looked at her watch and sighed. Unconsciously, she pushed a tendril her ombre hair behind her ear and then dropped her hand, angry at herself for trying to make herself presentable. Her plan was to sit there, only speak when spoken to, and have as many drinks as possible without impairing her ability to drive.

Shay answered the door, looking Dawson up and down, before moving to the side and allowing Dawson to enter.

"Listen," Shay started, "can we just make this as painless as possible? Laugh a few times, toast to happiness and friendship, eat and be done?"

Dawson glared at Shay and lifted the bottle of Belvedere vodka that she'd brought. "Believe me, I don't wanna be here anymore than you want me here."

Shay grabbed the bottle from Dawson's hand. "Thank god. 'Cause all Clarice bought was wine."

Once the pleasantries and greetings were said and done, Shay and Dawson were forced out of the kitchen whilst Clarice put the finishing touches on her exquisite meal. Bringing to shot glasses with them, the plopped onto the couch, one that Dawson hadn't remembered Shay having.

"New furniture?" Dawson asked.

"Huh?" Shay looked up from opening the vodka. "Oh. Yeah. New furniture."

"Your idea?" Dawson took the shot that Shay offered, sarcasm in her words. "Or Clarice's?"

"Are you saying I can't think for myself?"

"Your words not mine."

The two women knocked back the first of four shots before they were called to the table by Clarice.

With a little alcohol in her system, Dawson appeared calm and collected, evening engaging in conversation with Shay. Even without her full mental clarity, thanks to the vodka, Dawson could tell that something was off about Clarice. She liked to be heard but didn't like to listen and hearing her cut Shay off mid-sentence was beginning to get infuriating. Still, it was not her place and none of her business. If Shay wanted to be with this woman, Dawson was staying out of it.

That didn't stop her from starting a dialogue between she and Shay to let the blonde get a word in; a conversation that could potentially destroy the evening.

"Shay, you'll never guess who I ran into a couple of days ago." Dawson began.

"Oh yeah? Who?" Shay sipped from the pink moscato wine.

"Sparkle. Or, I guess I should say Lauren. Since she's not Sparkle anymore."

Shay paused. Sat her wine down. She looked at Clarice out of the corner of her eye, and cleared her throat.

"Really? How's she doing? How's the baby?" Shay questioned.

"Who's Lauren?" Clarice demanded, albeit sweetly.

"Just a girl that used to work at Nocturnal with Dawson and me."

"And I." Clarice corrected her.

"Yeah." Shay said. When she picked up her wine glass this time, she took more than a sip. By the time she sat the glass back down, it was nearly finished.

Dawson looked at Clarice and smiled, before putting another forkful of steak in her mouth.

It was Clarice's turn to clear her throat. She smoothed the hem of the white, cloth napkin in her lap and when she spoke again her voice held the same faux cheer that it always did. "Well, I'm just going to give you two some time to work out your differences."

Standing up, Clarice placed her napkin on her plate and walked off towards the living room. When she was out of earshot, Shay looked at Dawson, unamused.

"Real nice. Bringing up Lauren." Shay hissed, standing up as well. She stacked the plates that they'd used, excess food and all, and started into the kitchen. Dawson grabbed their wine glasses and followed her.

"How was I supposed to know that Lauren was an off-limits subject? Besides, I was only trying to make conversation. Every time you started to speak, she cut you off." Dawson explained.

Simultaneously, they placed the dishes on the counter and Shay began the task of scraping the leftover food into the small garbage bin. Even as they kept low voices, the emotion in their words was undeniable. Anger and agitation sputtered from their lips with every line of dialogue.

"Oh really? You didn't know my ex-sex partner was an off-limits subject? And she did not."

"Did too! And she corrects your grammar like you're six years old."

They were standing by the sink, face-to-face.

"Why do you even care?"

"Because it's not okay. You're not a baby, Leslie. She doesn't have to treat you like you're inferior to her just because she has some fancy college degree. I mean, why do you even put up with that crap?"

"Because I love her," replied Shay.

"Well, I guess what they say is true: love is blind." Dawson commented. She turned the water on, and placed the glasses underneath the steady stream.

"Are you saying I'm blind to Clarice's flaws?"

"Oh, honey, you are goddamn Helen Keller when it comes to Clarice's flaws."

"And you're just Saint Gabriela with all of your perfect charm?"

"No, but at least I know when I'm being treated poorly by someone."

"And, what, you beat them up and don't talk to them for a year and a half?" Shay snorted.

"No, I saved that especially for you."

Together, they started to arguing over one another, not really listening, only trying to get their own points across.

"...a real relationship if it bit you on the ass." Dawson hissed.

"...ever get laid again if you keep acting like a child!" Shay finished at the same time. They looked at each other for a heartbeat before Shay put her hand on the back of Dawson's head, pulling the brunette flush against herself. She pressed her lips against Dawson's.

It was only seconds before her their tongue were fighting for dominance. The softest, lightest moan escaped Dawson's lips before she came to her senses and pushed Shay away.

"What the hell, Shay?"

"Oh, god. That was... I didn't mean... I'm sorry, I-."

"I should go." Dawson said, her chest heaving and her lips tender.

"Yeah... uh, lemme, walk you out."

"That's okay. I know where the door is."

Walking out of the kitchen, Dawson braced herself to face Clarice, who was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

"I'm off, Clarice. Got an early start tomorrow morning. Thanks for dinner. It was lovely." She said, quickly.

"Oh, no problem. I'm glad you could make it." She stood up, embracing Dawson.

Not that you gave me a choice, Dawson thought, hugging Clarice awkwardly.

Dawson headed out, shutting the door behind her. She walked to her car, brusquely, chastising herself, the only thing on her mind was if it was too late to call out of work tomorrow morning.

Up Next: Severide guesses. Shay talks. Dawson avoids.