With Each Passing Day

By Dimgwrthien

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

Mac groaned as he woke up, then slowly opened his eyes. Something didn't feel right. He took a quick survey of his surroundings, noticing the boxes around the room. Not the bedroom. It took him a moment to realize that this was his new living room.

Claire had an arm around his shoulder and one curled up around her face. She laid over him, covering his body with hers. Mac reached up to stroke her hair slowly, enjoying the feel of the rise and fall of her chest on his. His neck hurt like hell from a night on the couch, but it was worth it.

Since moving, nothing had seemed right. Right then, with the sun just low enough that Mac didn't need to squint through it and the clock set just far enough back that work didn't even cross his mind, he wanted to run back to Chicago, where life was settled and ordinary.

"Claire?" he whispered into her ear. She didn't move. "Darling?" Still nothing.

Mac gently moved her hand, taking it off his shoulder and folding it down by her other hand. He moved slowly and carefully, trying not to wake her as he got up off the couch. Claire remained asleep. Mac stretched out his arms and legs, doing his best to ignore the growing pain in his neck. He walked to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he noticed the boxes in there.

Working bit by bit, Mac unpacked another box, carefully putting the dishes away without making enough noise to disturb Claire. She turned a little in her sleep, something that Mac couldn't help but watch. Don't wake up yet. Not quite yet.

He eventually compromised by walked out and picking up Claire under her shoulders and knees. Mac had to thank himself for years in the Marines and marrying such a small woman. He kept his grip firm as he carried her into the bedroom. After stepping over items spilled around the room from their attempt as unpacking the night before, Mac put Claire on the bed, fixing her hair so that it didn't tug behind her neck, then planted a kiss on her forehead.

(With Each Passing Day)

The wave of an ocean washed over her like a blanket, shielding her from the warm air. She wanted to feel the sun's light kisses on her, experience the warm day. The winter had been to long and she felt like a lazy bear. Warmth. That was the perfect cure.

She stretched, feeling the grains of sand manipulate to fit her body like a well-worn blanket. Perfect comfort. Nice mattress. Better than a mattress. She could move again and again, feel the water over her in a perfect curve, see for miles down the edge of the shore. Birds swooped around the sky lazily, squawking before they plunged into the ocean.

The sun's flares seemed to intensify, bleeding fire onto the earth. She wanted to stand up, run away from it, but the water kept a comfortable grip on her that seemed to tighten as the fire grew too warm to tolerate.

Then an arm reached over her waist, holding her still. She looked up the arm to see him beside her, his green eyes closed as he kept her down. The fire seemed cooler, just a bare tickle on the ground around them.

"Keep still," he whispered to her with a piece of velvet for a voice.

Claire obeyed him, knowing that he was safe, something to trust. The world burned to ashes around them, but they were fine.

The flames fell over the sand, creating a haunting display of lights. When they got too close, Claire gasped and woke up.

Claire took a deep breath, sitting straight up in bed and looking around the room to find the clock. She finally found it and saw that it wasn't even six yet. Time to spare. She sat up, yawning, then stepped off the bed onto the cold floor. Pat, pat, pat. She smiled as she heard her feet on the ground and thought of a little kid walking down the hall at Christmas.

Christmas two years ago, she remembered. Chicago. Snow. Freezing temperature. Her niece and nephew visiting with her sister. Little Anna and Greg giggling as they tried to hide their presents behind the rest of them. Charlotte, who looked nothing like Claire, no matter how closely they were related, trying to pull them away. Mac giving Claire a silver necklace with a diamond snowflake.

Claire took a deep breath and tried to smell the eggnog. Somehow, she thought she could.

"I thought we had fallen asleep in the living room but I guess I was just dre- oh, Mac." She froze as she got into the living room, looking around with bleary eyes to see Mac holding a cup of orange juice in one hand and tugging at the glass door onto the balcony with the other. "What're you trying to do?"

"Surprise you," he answered, tugging at the door once more. "Guess it wasn't working, though."

She grinned and walked up to him, looking over the door until she found the problem. "Darling, you have to lift the bar before the open the door." Claire kneeled, tugging up at the security bar and pressing it back against the doorframe. "They slide closed easily. Now, what were you -"

Mac pulled open the door, letting Claire walk out first. Her footfalls muffled on the cement of the balcony as she looked at the table outside. It was the white one that they had bought right after moving, just for the balcony. Mac had out two plates with breakfast on them as well as a vase with a single lily in it.

Claire raised an eyebrow, failing to keep the smile off her face. "Did I have sex with you that I just forgot?"

Mac laughed and gave her a gentle push towards one of the seats. Claire sat down as Mac placed down the glass of orange juice. "Not quite."

"Then this is a thanks for the six good years I've supplied you," Claire answered, picking up her glass. Mac laughed again and clinked his glass against hers. "Cheers."

"Cheers," he echoed. "I think I deserve some credit in this toast, though."

"Of course." Claire hit her glass against his again, grinning widely, then drank. "I'd kiss you for this, but you caught me with my kryptonite."

"Pancakes, maple syrup, and orange juice." Mac smiled. "The reason I managed to get you to marry me."

"Extra maple syrup. Otherwise you would have gotten the pink slip after dating." Claire picked up her knife and fork. "And the balcony. That really helped."

"Always does." Mac lifted his glass in a toast again, still grinning.

Smiling at how happy he looked, Claire still couldn't help but feel confused. "Really, Mac. What's all this about?"

Mac kept a small smile on his face, then picked up his own knife and fork.

She could already tell that he wasn't going to answer, but he still did.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked quietly.

Claire smiled. "Was I supposed to doubt that? Maybe when I see another woman's underwear in our bed, I will, but I haven't yet."

"Then I've been hiding the evidence." Mac grinned and leaned forward. Claire has already mastered the art of catching Mac's kiss, and looked up in time to get the kiss on the lips.

"Love you," she whispered back.

"Good," Mac answered, the smile still not leaving his face. "I broke one of your plates this morning."

Claire raised her eyebrows. "Then that's the last time you're getting a declaration of love on a balcony, darling."