Author's Note:

This was a oneshot which I've reworked a little and slipped into this series, because it seems to fit better here.

CJ and Danny's Kitchen
Sunday, March 16th, 2008 5pm

It had been somewhat of a crazy weekend.

She'd worked all of Saturday and most of Sunday in preparation for an upcoming trip to Nairobi, and was looking forward to an evening at home.

CJ pulled the list from the fridge and wondered - as she always did when it was Danny's turn - what he'd pick. She walked around the kitchen, putting things away. Amusing herself with the thought that in two weeks, if he didn't pick that today, she'd bring up the time in the press room when they'd stared blatantly at each other's mouths while conversing. Until he'd reminded her that she was the one who needed to leave.

It wasn't something they'd outgrown. Sometimes, when she knew he wanted her, she stood just out of arm's length and engaged him in abstract conversation; watching him tune out their surroundings as she reeled him in inch by inch.

She was almost done emptying the dishwasher when she heard the key in the front door, and glanced at the clock.

Had his appointment with Barbara had been cancelled?

The moment he stepped into the kitchen she realized that not only was he back way too early, he was also upset. And even though she was secure in the knowledge that she couldn't possibly be responsible for whatever ailed him, she navigated the tension carefully.

"Hi," she said as she tried to figure out whether this was a beer or hard liquor situation.

"Hi."

His eyes weren't warm as he looked at her, and suddenly she was no longer so sure she wasn't responsible for whatever this was.

"How'd it go with Barbara?"

"It didn't. I took a drive up the coast."

His voice was completely flat, and her suspicion started to feel more like unease.

She cast her mind back over the past two days and came up blank. It couldn't be anything she'd done because she hadn't seen or spoken to him properly since getting ready for work on Friday mor-

And then it hit her.

She'd kissed him while getting dressed.

That, in itself, was not unusual – and there would have been no adverse reaction had it been an en passant kiss. It happened often enough. A quick peck on the mouth before they went about their day. Sometimes during the day, if he was in the vicinity of her office. Eyes open, knowing smiles; just enough to convey affection without creating physical tension.

But she'd had a lot on her mind that morning. Her parted lips had been an invitation his body wasn't used to turning down – and his reaction had been visceral. She should have known to stop there, but she hadn't. Instead she'd run a finger under his collar, stood too close to him, and lowered her voice to alto pitch.

With hindsight, she'd done it to throw him a bone because she'd needed to get out the door. And then she'd kissed him again absently before sweeping out of the bedroom.

"I'm sorry .." she said quietly.

When he didn't ask her why she was sorry, she realized that he'd been stuck in the steel trap of that 6.45am memory all weekend.

"Okay."

But she knew it wasn't, because he stopped making eye contact with her the moment he said it.

And that was more her style than his.

He ran a hand through his hair and stepped towards the fridge.

"Want me to make dinner?" he asked as he peered inside.

"Can we make it together?"

"Sure."

He didn't give her the silent treatment, but the conversation was desultory at best. And when it trailed off, neither one of them made the effort to pick it up again. She because she didn't know how to make it right without an argument, and he because he was nursing hurt.

Late afternoon slipped into evening, and then into night, without mention of the list.

Somewhere in the early hours of the morning she became aware that he was sitting up in bed; knees pulled in, elbows resting on them, fingers steepled.

She ran a hand across his back, resting her chin on his shoulder, and he shifted his head to look at her as breath tickled his ear.

"Feeling a little frisky there, Ms. Cregg?"

The words weren't said unkindly, but there was an element of disbelief in his voice that made them feel very much like a rebuke. He deliberated for a moment, and then pushed her gently back on the bed. But he didn't kiss her. Didn't give her any part of himself. Just slipped a hand between her thighs and started to take care of her.

"Not like this," she said as she placed a hand over his and stalled him.

They both stared up at the ceiling, engulfed by silence.

"I'm trying .." she said after a while.

"I know."

She wished he'd crack a joke about not being done training her yet, but he didn't.

He did take her hand, though.

"Things haven't fallen apart, CJ," he said as he pressed a kiss to it. "We've just hit a speed bump. It was bound to happen some time. It'll pass."

"Guess we can strike that memory off the list," she said sadly.

"Yeah."

"Danny .."

"I just need a bit of time to get over myself, CJ," he said quietly as he linked his fingers with hers. "It's not the way I thought we'd address this one."

"Okay."

Sleep was a long time coming but, as daylight filtered in, CJ opened her eyes to find him tucking her half of the duvet around her.

"Morning .." she said with a smile.

Stroking her thumb up and down his arm to gauge where things stood.

"Morning .."

She noted that there was light in his eyes again as he propped himself up on an elbow.

His eyebrows arched as her lips parted with the faintest of pops, and the soundless gibberish brought his eyes firmly to her mouth. He moved closer and, as she watched him watch her, she could tell she was effecting a rise in systolic pressure.

When he touched her, she entangled her legs with his.

Because while he might be mesmerized by her mouth, she knew that his true pleasure lay in hearing his name fall raggedly off her lips as they brushed his earlobe.