Part V: A Slight Delay

They planned on going to the Met, but life sometimes interrupts in unexpected ways... though, not always bad ones.

Warnings: strong language, adult situation, OC

Associated episode: N/A

I pressed my lips to his once more before he stepped out of the shower, his skin steaming as he closed the shower door behind him. I glimpsed the fogged mirror, and him wrapping a towel around his waist before the shower door closed. I had to grin a little: he did have a perfectly lovely ass.

My skin was tingling, and I was beautifully relaxed as I stepped back under the shower head, letting the hot water pour over me. I was surprised there was any left - my fingers were pruning, we had to have been in for at least an hour and a half. A another big difference between Rafi's apartment and mine, in addition to square footage and general niceness: the size of the water-heater.

I heard tendrils of a tune from outside the shower. "Sing louder, babe," I called as I soaped my hair with his shampoo. I'd smell like him all day - and that wasn't a bad thing.

"I don't want the neighbor's dogs to start barking," he laughed.

Through the etched glass, I saw him start getting dressed. "I'll be out in a minute," I assured him.

"No, mi amor, stay, take your time. I want to finish that brief before we leave for the museum."

He was dressed in a tee and his jeans, towel around his neck as he passed the shower again, towards the door. I pushed the door open and poked my head out, "Hey." He backtracked, smiling, looking as comfortable and relaxed as me. "Have I told you lately that you're too good to me?"

He didn't respond, just pressed his grinning lips to mine.

I did as instructed, took my time, but showering wasn't nearly as much fun without him in there with me. I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my hair and another around my body, stepping up to the mirror. The circle he'd cleared had fogged again, so I wiped it off. My skin was flushed, bright white highlighted pink, and peppered with dark red marks on my neck, collarbone, and one just visible above the towel wrapped around me, left by Rafi's mouth. The one on my neck would be a problem to cover in my scrubs come Monday morning… but that was a problem for Monday, and it was blessedly Saturday.

As I was drying off and fantasizing about my remaining forty-five-plus hours away from work, a thought struck me: one of my work buddies, Sassy, told me earlier this week about the Italian heritage festival out in Little Italy. The Met wasn't going anywhere, and I knew Rafi's penchant for gnocchi. I pulled on the long tee-shirt I'd worn as pajamas last night and my underwear, padded out the bathroom door, into the bedroom, toweling my hair. "Hey baby, you know Sas, from work? She told me about a festival in Little Italy this weekend, and you know, the Met will keep-"

I hit the hallway and stopped so quickly I nearly skidded on the polished hardwood: Rafi was indeed where I'd expected him to be - in the living room, bent over his desk - but he was not alone. They both turned around, the woman - mid-forties, brunette, with a badge clipped to her belt - wearing a look I was sure was mirrored on my own face: slightly horrified surprise.

"Oh," I was saying, and so was she. Benson, the name clicked in my brain, and that day at the courthouse when I was dropping of Rafael's cell phone.

Rafi, for his part, took my appearance in stride, despite my relative dishabille, and proceeded with the re-introductions, as if we might've forgotten each other. There was no 'you remember my girlfriend' from him, but I doubted that was needed. I stood in my underwear, with approximately eight miles of leg poking out from my tee-shirt, my hair soaked, towel in hand. Rafi was equally, obviously just out of the shower. We might as well have been wearing matching 'We Just Fucked' tee-shirts. I felt my cheeks burning as I stuttered through a greeting.

"Good… Good to see you," she said, her voice a mixture of gravely and feminine, but there was no inflection of actual pleasure in her voice. It was only then that I noticed how close they stood to each other.

"Ah," I managed, my brain doing a little two-step of embarrassment and vague concern. "It's great to see you, Sergeant. You look well," I smiled before the pause got too long. I plastered a smile on my flaming face. My eyes flickered to Rafi, and while Ms Benson was waffling, eyes looking basically anywhere but at me, Rafi's eyes never left me, and his smile was relaxed; not as if he'd been caught doing something he should have been - either with me, or her. This made my smile a little more natural. "Well, I'll, ah… I'll go… put some pants on. Always important."

"It was nice to see you," Ms Benson called as I turned down the hall, awkwardly pulling the tee-shirt down in the back to better cover my thighs.

"You too!"

About ten minutes later, I'd blown my hair dry and pulled on a pair of yoga pants, just in case the Sergeant was still present when I walked out. But when I turned from the mirror, I found Rafi, propped in the doorway of the bathroom, hair fluffed up on the front, not it's usual slick, neat comb. There was a little smile on his lips, and I was more than a little familiar with the look in his eyes. "You are gorgeous, you know that?" He asked, and I couldn't help but snort.

"No," I answered honestly, my smile growing without my permission.

He wandered over to me, bare-footed, as I slid up to sit on the bathroom counter. He set a hand on either side of me, propping himself up on the marble. "Well I know it," he said, lingering well within kissing distance, but not moving in. His crystalline eyes sparkled in the bright light. "And the Italian Festival sounds perfect. But they're open late, right?"

"I s'pose," I grinned as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Why? That brief going to take longer than expected?"

"Brief?" He asked, brows falling. "Brief, brief… ah. No." The tip of his nose rubbed against mine; his voice no louder than a whisper; he consistently leaned just away enough to keep me from kissing him. "No," he said, his voice rough and low. "I have… more important things to… occupy me today."

"You aren't all, ah… occupied out?"

Finally, he moved in and pressed his lips to mine, capturing my lower lip between his, his tongue running across my lip. He stepped between my legs and I wrapped them around him as he deepened the kiss. After a while - long enough to put the burn back on my cheeks, the hammer back in my heartbeat, and the tingle back in my skin - he pulled away, peppering kisses up my jaw until his mouth was brushing my ear. "I've caught a second wind." His mouth found my neck, and I threaded my fingers through his hair.

"Bed?" I asked as his hands slipped up my tee-shirt.

"Why move?" He asked against my skin.

It was a good long while before we got to the Italian Festival, but that was perfectly okay.

Translations:

mi amor - my love

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reading, and to those of you who've commented, favorited, and PM'ed their feedback: you are darlings. Next chapter will hopefully be how they met, but it needs some punching up. Here's something for the wait! Hope you enjoy. - C