So, my usually extensive notes for each chapter in my books were in bulletpoint form for this chapter facepalm That's why it took so long to post this one. This is still what I wanted to happen, so I hope y'all like it :)

A/N: "Skato" is Greek for 'Little Sh!t' ;) Thanks to DPMB (and Melina) for pointing that one out for me heehee xx

Mac pushed the button for Stella's apartment, identifying himself when her voice came from the box on the wall. The door unlocked with a buzz, while Stella said "S'open."

Of all the things that Stella Bonasera was, predictable wasn't one of them. She was incredibly smart and breathtakingly beautiful, but there was absolutely no knowing what her next move was going to be. This was playing through Mac's mind as he neared her door.

Was she going to be calmly getting ready for their date, scouring the house for that earring she lost last week?

Or was she pacing the rooms muttering multi-lingual obscenities aimed at the chief and/or the system?

A step nearer to her door and the question was answered, when a smash sounded, followed by a "Skato!" in Stella's alto.

"Everything okay?" he called into the apartment, pushing the ajar door open and letting himself in.

"Oh, everything is fantastic, Mac! Best damn day of my life." She snarked from the kitchen, shovelling a broken glass into the trash. As hard as he tried to hide it, Mac couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the sight before him. She was still wearing the grey work pants from that afternoon, but it was now accompanied with a scoop-necked chocolate brown top, her hair primped and perfect and on top of her head. But her square jaw was set even more so than usual, and her eyes screamed homicide, or something to that effect.

"But, you know what, I've had 2 hours to stew on today's events, so you're best just telling me what happened after I left, because you've never seem me in the mood I'm feeling." She slammed the bin lid down and returned the dustpan to the cupboard under the sink.

"I've seen Rambo Stella before." Mac said, playing devil's advocate while watching her spin around to face him again.

"This is beyond 'Rambo Stella'. Rambo is a distant pleasant memory to this emotion. This emotion is imagining excuses of how 2 gallons of sulphuric acid just happened to spill on to Highbourne's precious beamer.

"This emotion is explaining away how two-month-old fish were found in the hubcaps to the same precious beamer.

"This emotion is letting four-year-olds run wild with metal scourers and lipstick in Highbourne's parking space." She was spitting out the words now, her mind deliriously enjoying the scenarios.

"Okay, I'm going to stop this emotion before it learns how to assemble a Semi-automatic from scratch in 6 seconds flat." He held her by the shoulders again and led her to a chair at the table.

"Give me a couple of minutes practice and I'll have that down too." Her promising eyes locked onto Mac's. How was he so calm? Why wasn't he as livid as she was? "He can't make me choose between my career and my relationship, can he? Am I fired?"

"Why would he fire you? It'd be easier to fire me, just not let me come back to work."

"Oh please, the golden child? The war hero? The famous Mac Taylor?" she asked, with a 'phft" sound.

"I'm anything but a hero, or famous for that matter. And Highbourne definitely doesn't think of me as the 'golden child' after what happened." Mac scratched behind his ear, feeling just the slightest bit embarrassed with how he reacted to his employer.

"Well, you have no fight-bite, so it couldn't have been that bad."

"Let's just say, the facts were laid out and truths were told…and you're back to work tomorrow."

"I am?" There had to be more to it. Stella stood up and paced a bit more. "Even though me and you are desecrating CSI protocols and, by his behaviour, you'd think all things holy?"

"Screw protocol," he shrugged.

"Mr Taylor! I've never heard such words!" She spun to him, a little shocked to hear Mac say something like 'screw' in that context. "Say them again," she winked.

"I would, but we're going to be late for dinner," he smirked, standing up and tucking his chair under the table.

"Screw dinner."

"Miss Bonasera! I've ne-" His mocking but flirtatious words were cut short by her mouth on his. It grew increasingly deeper, Stella wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers grasping at his hair.

Stella was more than willing to leave it at that level of intimacy for a while longer. The feeling of Mac's mouth moving with hers was still a novel pleasure that she couldn't get enough of. She felt his forearms brush at her sides, slowly but intentionally moving their way up her back, his hands playing across the fabric of her shirt.

Before she knew it, the clip holding her hair up rattled across the floor, her curls unleashed and flowing at her ears. Mac's finger's riffled through them, caressing at her scalp, following the length of the strands down her neck. His touch was burning at her skin, scratching at her flesh, and she couldn't believe it.

She didn't miss a beat, bringing her palms across his shoulders and down his sweater. She only had three places of skin at her disposal: face, neck and hands. By kissing his neck, she would destroy the searing dance his lips were playing on hers, and his hands were on a journey of discovery across her neck and back that she didn't want to distract them from.

When her fingers reached the hem of his sweater, she pulled it up, yanking his shirt from his trousers next. She waited for any sign of hesitation, that he wasn't ready for this step, but she felt nothing. Well, no, she felt everything. Every finger touching every muscle; every movement from his mouth and, oh my, tongue; every step backwards they made until reaching her bedroom.

Mac shut the door behind him, one hand firmly entwined through curls. Her hands snaked up under his shirt, playing at the fluff on his stomach and chest. She felt, with baited breath, as he swooped her shirt up and over her head, ripping her hands from their contact.

They fell on to her bed not long after.

Xx

Stella wasn't there when Mac woke. He turned in the bed, half covered by the duvet, to see the digital alarm clock blinking 8.00pm on her side. He stretched his arms, relieving the aching tension in his legs and lower back. It had been a while.

He sat up and flung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his boxer shorts and trousers on the floor.

Stella spun at the sound of the bedroom door opening, grinning at the sight before her. She lowered the phone from her ear, asking "You want spicy sausage on your pizza?"

Mac nodded and walked closer to her, loving the sight of her in his dress shirt and a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. She finished the call with a "Thanks Massimo," and dropped the phone to the table as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You okay?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," she nodded, unable to keep the grin at bay. "Are you okay?" she asked, hoping he caught the double meaning: Okay physically and okay with what happened.

"Yes to both." he smiled, kissing her again.