Author's Note: Obviously, these are going to be shorts… but a daily update makes up for it, right?

Two Turtledoves

Oh, dear god. What the hell had happened?

Merri groaned as she rolled over, away from the window letting in all too much sunlight for anyone's sanity. Let alone her throbbing head's. She tried glancing at her alarm clock, but it was blocked by... birds?

The ridiculous sunshine was glinting off the gold foil of the -yes, they were- doves. Where the hell had they come from?

Why the hell did she feel like her head was going to explode?

But oh, wait. There was a large glass of water and a couple aspirin sitting beside the pair of chocolate lovebirds. The tricky part was convincing herself to drag her million-pound, throbbing head off the pillow and sit up.

Damn LaSalle.

Sometimes, she had problems saying 'no' to the man. It wasn't just his charming, entirely sincere smile, either. His eyes seemed to light up with excitement and anticipatory glee when he saw some good fun on the horizon. Whether it be teasing a friend or spending a night on the town. And immune she might be to that appealing, candid exuberance. But it was the way he took a rejection, a denial of his merriment that broke her resolve. If anyone had perfected the 'hang-dog' expression, it was Chris LaSalle. And damn, the guilt she felt over ever putting a sad half-pout on his face... Nope, she was a complete sucker. She caved like a bad souffle.

She could've -should've- sent him on his way after they'd finished that bottle of his Aunt Bernice's pear wine. But she'd been tipsy, having such a good time, laughing, swapping stories of Christmases Past, about the beautiful and brilliant girl that had been her sister... The time when they were six and they'd pulled candies off the gingerbread house, licking all of the glue-like icing off of them and sticking them back in place, until several days later it collapsed seemingly inexplicably. The time Cade and Chris were caught chopping down a tree in the neighbors backyard with a little hatchet because they knew their mama couldn't afford to buy one even though it was her favorite part of Christmas.

He was a good son, a good brother. A good friend. And the best company. She knew he had dark places in the recesses of his heart, but he had a way about him of lifting the burdens off everyone around him. And did it with a big old grin.

She'd definitely had a very bad case of the holiday blues. And her selfish desire not to be alone for the rest of the day that was undeniably focused on family, well, it had outweighed her guilt over taking Chris away from his.

After sitting propped against the headboard for a few minutes with her eyes closed, and finishing off the rest of the glass of water, Merri decided maybe she should check on her houseguest. The last she remembered was jerking awake a few times as her chin hit her chest, until she ended up leaning against her companion's shoulder instead, half-watching Jimmy Stewart's face in black and white for a couple seconds. And then... nothing. He must have carried her into her bedroom and tucked her in, but she apparently had slept through that.

The smell of coffee hit her in a blissful wave as she padded out of her bedroom towards the kitchen in bare feet. She just stood and stared for a moment at the unexpected scene of domesticity.

Chris LaSalle sitting at her kitchen table, dressed in the same clothes as he'd appeared at her door in (jeans and worn old tee), only sans jacket, a bit more rumpled and with bare feet. His short hair somehow was even mussed looking. There was an open newspaper -the sports section, of course, such a guy- obscuring his face, so she couldn't tell if he was as hung over as she felt.

"Leave me any coffee?" she asked, her voice embarrassingly hoarse.

The paper flopped down to the tabletop, revealing a boyish grin and blue eyes that -like the morning sun streaming into her bedroom windows- were just too damned bright.

"Yup," he said, getting up to pour her a cup. She plopped down into a chair, depositing the two gold-foil birds on top of the abandoned newspaper before she buried her face in her hands and groaned like she were undead. She only came back out of hiding when a steaming mug was placed on to the table before her.

"Two questions," she said when her friend and uninvited house guest resumed his seat across from her.

"Shoot," he said, still grinning. It was just unfair that he was so damned awake and lively. Thank god Christmas had been on a Friday, and she had all of Saturday and Sunday to nurse this dreadful hangover.

"Okay. Three questions," she amended, then proceeded to interrogate her stupid-cheerful partner. "One: Are you sure that was Pear Wine and not some sort of 'White Lightening?'"

LaSalle laughed, but otherwise didn't interrupt, obviously aware of her raw state and wary of pissing her off.

"Two: How are you not hung over?"

He took a long pull off his cooler cup of coffee, his eyes doing the laughing.

"And Three: What the hell are these?" She indicated the chocolate doves that she'd disgustingly arranged like they were kissing without even realizing she'd done so.

"Them's doves," he said. She gave him an arch look. No shit, Sherlock.

"Yes, but why?"

He shrugged. "My momma's idea. Thought you might like 'em."

Weird. And he'd been discussing her with his mother?

"And yes," he said. "I ken assure ya that Aunt Bernice's Pear Wine is fermented in a carboy an' not distilled from corn mash."

Merri frowned incredulously.

"The alcoholic content is unknown however." He took another sip of his coffee. "But when ya grow up with it, ya seem ta develop some sorta tolerance. Ha'n't been hung over off'n' it since I was 19."

"19, Chris?"

He grinned broadly, shrugging again. He was young enough that there was no way the legal drinking age had been anything under 21 when he was a teenager. He never talked about his late teens much, besides that being the time when he'd first run off to New Orleans and fell in love with the place. She didn't know how long, or in what circumstances he'd stayed, or how he'd been coaxed back home and into college. Only that the place must have imprinted on him something fierce for him to return and join the NOPD right out of college.

"Honestly, I think ya jus' had a li'l more wine than me," he said. And crap, maybe he was right. She'd let her lonely mood get to her, grateful to have the company of a friend on Christmas, nervous what he'd thought of her ridiculous wallowing. She blushed, still a little ashamed of needing his friendship so desperately the previous night.

"Hey," he said, doubtless noticing her embarrassment. "I made the same dang mistake prob'bly a thousan' times more'n ya."

"An' it was fun, wa'n't it?" He was leaning across the table, tilting his head to try to see her face which she'd buried in her hands once more.

It had been fun, hadn't it?

"I had no idea ya did such a good Daffy Duck impression."

She smacked his arm as he chuckled, blushing further but laughing along with her friend.

A/N: So obviously I fudged LaSalle's personal history a little, considering the canon crams quite a bit into the back story for a man in his early 30s.