A/N – My first CSI fic ever… be kind:P Just a 600-some-odd word drabble. I don't normally do drabble, but I'm trying to become better at. Any comment would be welcome!
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When Stella Attacks…
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She stood in front of him, curly hair wild around her, shameless smirk on her perfect face and brandishing a pair of scissors. Gulp... They looked sharp. And in a lot of the cases they saw, they were actually considered a murder weapon.
If it had been anyone else, he'd have been absolutely terrified at the look she gave him. But he was who he was, and this was Stella… as it was, he was only slightly… concerned.
"What are you doing?" Was that his voice? It was slightly higher pitched that it normally was. He'd been a Marine, damn it. This slip of a woman should not be making him nervous.
"Oh, nothing. Absolutely nothing," she said smoothly. Mac swallowed again. Stella was in his personal space. She knew full well that it made him uncomfortable to have anyone in his personal space. But that never stopped her. He suspected, with good reason, that she enjoyed making him uncomfortable.
"Scissors, Stell… that's not nothing," he said. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, his voice was telling him to call out for Danny, or Aiden, or in the off chance that Detective Flack was somewhere around… but he didn't. He really couldn't help it if another part of him wanted to see what, exactly, she was up to. No matter what situation she was, undoubtedly, going to put him in. It wasn't often that the beautiful CSI marched into his office with such a determined look (and evil smirk, don't forget the smirk!) and wielding a sharp object.
"Pay no attention to the scissors in my hand," was all she had to say in reply. She stepped closer, the scissors coming right along with her.
"Right," he breathed, tensing up as they came a hair's breath away from his nose.
It made him wonder if he'd done something to piss her off and if those blades were going to end up embedded up his nose. Stella was a tough New York woman… she could have a temper on occasion.
There was a measuring look on her face; her bottom lip was between her teeth. Her eyes were locked somewhere at his neck. His jugular? Then, without warning, her slim hand reached out and gripped the knot of his tie. A steady hand whipped up and the scissors made a distinctive 'thwick' sound as it sliced through the silk at his neck. His eyes were probably popping out of his head.
"Everything's connected, right Mac?" she asked, smirk in place on her face and a glint in her eyes.
"Uh… yeah…" he staggered out. She plopped the material in his hand.
"Well, your tie isn't anymore," she said before turning and sauntering out of his office. She punctuated a few steps with a few scissor snaps. All he could do was watch… one part annoyance, one part admiration, and another part something else altogether.
"I have 20 bucks on you that you won't make it to noon," she sang back to him. His fingers came up to his neck. It felt naked. He already itched to have something around his shirt collar… even if the only thing at his disposal on such short notice was bright yellow crime scene tape.
"Stella, it's eleven already!" he called out to her departing back. She shot him a grin over her shoulder.
"I know," she said. "Lunch'll be on me…" As she walked down the hallway towards trace, she handed off the pair of scissors to an open-mouthed level one who was still staring into Mac's office.
And that was how Stella Bonasera became legend at the NYC Crime Lab. All Mac Taylor, the serious and formal CSI supervisor, could do was smile and think about what he wanted for lunch. That and how to steal a tie from someone in the lab. Stella would certainly want to help…
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Please let me know how you liked it. Maybe I'll venture into the world of CSI fic again… Actually, I know I will because I adore Mac/Stella… :) Rock on Gary and Melina! Anyway, thanks for stopping by and happy reading here on out!
