Disclaimer - you know how it goes.
AN - thought we could do with a breather from the drama between them (evil giggle) Enjoy. ;p
More this time, for your kind reviews. Thank you so much!
Oh and a little D/L also.
Again mistakes not meant to be there are my fault.
Read and Review.
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Chapter Three
Is it wrong that I feel like I'm drowning.
Stella rhythmically waved a post-it in her hand, as she pondered the question, gazing into oblivion through glass and out across the New York skyline — from the comfort of Mac's office chair.
The paper made crinkling sounds as it flapped in her hand, sending small curls blowing gently as a result. Drowning, the question occupying her mind got stuck there once she she stepped foot in Mac's office twenty minutes ago, earlier she had got to work an hour and a half early, and not because she expected Mac to respond to her note so quick, this time it was a practical reason, she had worked a double shift a couple of days ago, ended up taking an earlier shift after her day off, then somehow got stuck on the early shift again. Nightshift must be really slacking.
So, somewhere between clocking in, noticing what few living people were around at that certain time, finding coffee (which was an mission all in itself) she wandered into her office, in search of– something, she completely forgot what it was she came in for in the first place when the post-it note on her computer wiped out everything out of her mind.
This was a Lab, so she knew; one, no one left post-its, because nearly everything needed to be told to someone ASAP. And, two, honestly no one could be bothered to write it down when you have Cell Phones and Pages. And unless it was Mac sticking one on his fridge so he remembered to throw out the milk and buy fresh milk, she knew that it was him, based on her overly thought deductions. Reluctant to pick it up she stared at it like it was a piece of evidence, when she realized she was just standing there like an idiot, she picked it up and read it.
Somehow ending up in Mac's office, sitting in Mac's chair, slowly waving the post-it in her hand as she sat in her trance of thoughts. Now, drowning is not exactly something Stella was feeling so much, since the obvious fact that there was a great lack of water around her, and its not like she was bleeding internally. Though Stella thought it was something like that, which is where the metaphor came to mind.
Drowning, in Mac. Drowning, in all this unbelievably stupid unnecessary crap,... no. Drowning, in hope. Maybe. Drowning, in pity... I don't think so.
But she did feel sorry for herself lately. Work-A-Holic, successful woman detective, in her prime, nearly forty something Greek orphan, with no family, no life, no friends out of the Lab, and a best friend who's off doing god knows what with some English tramp.
It's not that I'm jealous. I'm just pissed off.
You could say she was drowning in some form of self-pity. Not that she minded, it was just everyone else that was going to have to watch out, Stella was one pissed off and frustrated Greek woman today (with a tendency to drift off.) Tempted to throw something or run her finger over the handwriting on the note again, Stella spun the chair around when she caught glimpse of the clock, an hour. One whole hour she had been sitting there like that. With a sigh she slid the note into her jacket pocket as she heard footsteps near the doorway. Not caring, she leant her head back onto the chair.
"Taking over Mac's office now?" Danny smirked in amusement as he made his way in casually, before continuing. Not bothering to wait for response. "So, do I call you Boss? Or do you prefer I'm seriously pissed off Bonasera so don't fuck with me," he queried dropping into one of the two chairs in front of the desk.
A throaty laugh came from Stella. Was she that obviously pissed off. Sitting forward, Stella lifted her head up and gave Danny a look over. "You look like shit," Stella raised an eyebrow at his ragged appearance.
Danny stifled his sudden burst of laughter and copied her eyebrow raise at her out of character disregard for not mincing words. "Usually only Montana scares me, when she starts talking more than one sentence about another guy, but now, you acting like this has me wanting to run to the hills with my tail between my legs."
Stella made a mock evil laugh, "Run. Run away." They paused to share a laugh.
"Who got on the wrong side of Bonasera so early on in the day," Danny asked, then tilted his head, "though you are in Mac's office, it could be any number of people on Mac's speed-dial."
Feeling her blood rush cold and hot all in one motion she sighed, barely audible but enough for Danny to take a wild guess, apparently on Stella and Lindsay's shopping days out they did actually talk about more than just cases.
"Coffee. You need coffee." Danny threw a crooked smile at her, causing her to, as she passed by him; slap the back of his head.
"I get it, my Messer charm disgusts you," he grumbled following her out into the hall.
"Danny..."
"Yea'?"
"Don't make me slap you."
"Mmmhmm."
A smirk on her face as she shook her head at him, Danny quietly chuckling as they stepped into the Break Room.
"DANIEL CARMINE MESSER."
Stella paused midst her coffee pouring to turn around and watch the scene before her. Danny who was still at the doorway to the Break Room, stood still as his face managed to pale, drop to the floor and wince in a chain reaction to his name being called by one fuming Lindsay Monroe. (Maybe all the women in this lab are in a rotten mood today)
Danny made a mental note not the call his Ma' till tomorrow.
Stella stirred coffee as she overlooked Lindsay dragging Danny by his arm down the hall, Danny turned his head and sent a helpless look to Stella who gave a little wave in response – followed by a chuckle. Alone again with some thoughts bordering on dangerous (and not that kinda of dangerous.) Stella leant up against the counter wishing the day would end already so she could go home and soak in the bath till her skin went all wrinkled and the water cold. Laughter brought her back to her surroundings.
"Hey Stell," Flack pulled himself out of his conversation with Hawkes to greet her with a smile. Hawkes trying to catch his breath as it appeared.
"Hi— Sheldon, are you okay?"
Flack coughed then laughed shortly. Hawkes nodded his reply, while Flack then pointed his thumb over his shoulder, "We stepped out of the elevator to witness quite the 'incident' between Messer and Montana." Flack bit his lip to suppress his amusement as he made quote marks on the word incident - stetting Hawkes off again.
"I saw the beginning of the incident, I think my ears are still recovering," Stella smiled.
Flack and Hawkes looked at each other as they chorused, "Messer's in trouble."
"You too are beyond childish, don't you both have jobs to do?" Stella narrowed her eyes on the two, (whose giggling sounded very girly to Stella.)
"Going," Flack replied, racing over to grab Stella's coffee cup off the counter then fast pacing out the door with a smirk.
"Hey!" But her protest faded half way though, when she just collapsed onto the couch instead.
"You do make better coffee," Hawkes commented sending her a genuine smile before leaving himself.
Again alone, Stella dragged herself off the couch and went off to DNA, picked up a file for her ongoing cold case that had been reopened in connection to a recent murder. People filling the halls now, Stella maneuvered through them all and into the elevator. Too many floors down she was on the Lab's basement level. Which mainly was for the morgue, and the Lab's filing and evidence storage for anything past a two year case. Down a couple of halls she headed toward the filing room, opening the door with the key she signed her name on the sign-in sheet hanging on the wall before heading down the rows of filing cabinets. Just as she placed the file away she stopped and listed when she heard giggling.
"They are both dead," Stella muttered when she recognized the hushed voices.
"You two better get out of there, clothed and reasonably presentable in the next five seconds or I'll send Mac down here."
The door clicked open and a extremely sheepish Danny followed by Lindsay hiding behind him with her cheeks flushed red with either embarrassment – or something else. Stella would rather not think about it.
Lindsay stepped forward as both her and Danny held their hands behind their backs in a awaiting scolding gesture.
Stella raised her hands up and turned around, "I don't even want to know." Came over her shoulder before she closed the door behind her.
Lindsay let out a giggle when Danny just winked at her, then she pouted in mock annoyance and crossed her arms.
"If I get fired, it's your fault."
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Mac ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time in fifteen minutes, giving up he packed away the evidence, sealed it back up, wrote his initials then handed it to Hawkes to take to Trace. Heading to the Locker Room he opened his locker, closed it and decided to take a shower as his phone started to ring, pressing reject he put it back in his pocket and headed to the showers.
Turning the faucet onto as hot as he could, he stepped under the spray of the water, relishing the heat, he didn't sleep much the night before, and all morning his mind had been unable to concentrate on anything, leaning his head on the cool tiles he stayed like that as he enjoyed the contrast.
Listening to the echo of her heels on the floor Stella walked to the Locker Room, she pushed the door open and headed on autopilot to her locker. Opening it before dropping onto the wooden bench in front. Peeling off her jacket she threw it into the locker then slammed the mental door closed with her foot. She had got pass the point of frustration, she was just feeling nothing - absolutely nothing. She'd rather be pissed off.
Picking up the post-it pad she spotted in the bottom of her locker. Where the heck did all these post-it pads come from. She grabbed a pen, biting off its cap with her teeth she blew it out into the locker (again slamming it shut with her foot.) Then scribbled down one word.
Spinning around on the bench she got on her feet and slapped it onto the locker door labeled: TAYLOR. Just as she let out a fed up breath of air she saw someone in the corner of her eye.
Turning her head round she half froze, half wanted to yell at him and half wanted to jump him right there and then, girlfriend or no girlfriend. Which didn't make sense in any possible way since it added up to three half's, it would screw up either way, and she was out of her mind that second with self-pity, annoyance and frustration. Not to mention the man that caused her pissed off mood now stood (as still as she) shirtless, — not that, that one detail was enough for her to deal with in her state, but he had a towel wrapped around his waist, some stray droplets of water dripping from his hair and onto his still blatantly damp chest.
I gotta' get out of here.
And she did just that. Briefly closing her eyes so she could turn on her heels and out the Locker Room door she realized it could be sometime before that mental image went anywhere.
Mac, not sure what just happened willed himself to walk to his locker, as his hand stilled in opening it the post-it on the front got his attention - his full attention.
Dinner?
TBC